I love summer and sometimes I forget that.

It never stops amazing me when God works in themes.

I ate cereal for dinner.

Our cell group is awesome.

I love ridiculously long naps.

I’m hosting book club on Tuesday.

I’m cleaning my house on Monday.

I turned my air conditioning on today. I wanted to make it to June, but it was getting stupidly hot upstairs.

These are a few of my favorite things:
1) Deadliest Catch on the Discovery Channel
2) Rachael Ray’s magazine
3) Monkey bread
4) flip-flops
5) attempting to be brave (even if you fail)
6) Seagrove Beach, Florida
7) blogging (but you probably knew that)

Be well today.

Today was the last day of school.

This is my fourth year teaching and I don’t want to think that I’m becoming less sensitive, but I think after each year, it becomes easier to say goodbye. And now that I teach 4th grade, the kids are still in the same building next year, so that also makes it less sad. I was telling a friend of mine today that this part of the year isn’t that difficult- like I said a few blogs back, it’s about 2 weeks before school gets out AND the first 2 weeks of the fall- when I realize that my classroom is full of strangers and “my kids” are never coming back. That is when it is sad.

I guess it just fits in the category of “things that go along with the job”. You love these kids with your whole heart for 180 days, then you let them go. And all of the sudden they belong to someone else. Even if you are in the middle of a life story with them (i.e.- a father in the hospital), it’s the end of the story for you. And that has to be okay.

It’s funny- the kids that give you the hardest time end up being the ones that tug your heartstrings on the last day. There were multiple days when I left thinking about one student and saying to myself, “Great job, Downs. You lost your patience with him AGAIN.” And it broke my heart. I would pray for the Lord to forgive me and cover my sins and please display Himself more than I display my dumb self.

Today that student gave me one of his most precious possessions- his Build-A-Bear. For a child that can not afford to play rec football (or pay for lunch) that is a HUGE deal. It brought tears to my eyes. Then I read his card (this is exactly how he wrote it, excuse the spelling)-

“Dear Ms. Downs,
You were really sweet to me in your class. Your the best teacher in the hole wide world. You were really wonderful to me. Thank you for teaching me, and I am going to really miss you alot. And I hope you teach the next genoroshen [generation] just the same.”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why our public schools need Christian teachers. Because even when I lack patience and kindness, the brightness of Jesus in me affects these children and someday, when he hears the gospel message (if he hasn’t already), maybe he will say, “I remember I had a teacher once that sometimes reminded me of this. I bet she was a Christian. She loved me a lot. I bet God loves me.”

That’s what I pray. For every kid.

And the best part of this job? SUMMER!! Swimming. Sleeping late. Ceiling fans. Flowers. Lunch with friends. Flip-flops. Same pay check. Booyah.

On a completely not serious note, please tell me you watch “Best Week Ever” on VH1. I’m laughing outloud.

Here goes one of those blogs that don’t get a lot of pre-think time. That always goes one of two ways- 1) really well or 2) not so really well. Let’s all cross our fingers for #1. No money back guarantee here though, folks.

I love that NBC shows The Office reruns. That’s so right.

It’s been a long, sad week. A few months ago, I was going to write (or had at least written in my head) a blog about why I love Jackson County and the people there. I just can’t do it right now. But it will come. Wait for it.

And I’m sorry to all my friends who have feared I dropped off Earth for the last 5 days. I haven’t.

I’m SO glad I went up there for the visitation and the funeral- it meant a lot to the team and to me. And I owed it to Kyle- I skipped the senior game this year, thinking it wouldn’t be a big deal. It’s not a guilt thing. It’s a lesson learned. One mistake I won’t make twice. Thankfully, Kyle knew the Lord, so the only sadness is for those left here. My friend Joseph is the boys’ coach- I couldn’t be more proud to call someone my friend. He is making a Godly impact on those boys and for some reason, knowing another Christian is there makes me feel like I’m still a little bit there. That may not make sense. Sorry.

I’m working on praying. In cell group, we talked about prayer and the discipline of it. And how it is a learning thing. You have to learn to pray. I think I forget that sometimes. I believe fully in doing something right or not doing it at all. If I can’t get it right, I usually either don’t do it or research it fully until I know how to do it correctly. Apparently God doesn’t want us to work that way. I wish I didn’t. So I’m asking Him to explain these verses to me to help me work on it.

Matthew 7:7-11
“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened. Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!”

I figure if He wrote it, He should be able to explain it to me. I think it allows for mistakes- it doesn’t say “ask the RIGHT question”, it just says “ask”. Also, I have such a deep love for my Earthly parents that I want to get how God is even more loving and faithful that the ones I can see. These verses are read a lot and talked about a lot but I am no longer okay with just saying, “Yeah, I get it” but then not knowing what this scripture LOOKS like in my life. I hate that feeling- the one that says “I can quote a scripture to you but please don’t ask me how I know it is true in my own life”.

So, please don’t ask me that.

Yet.

I used to coach soccer at Jackson County High School. One of my favorite people on the Earth is a kid named Kyle who played on the boys team. He is about six feet tall, light brown hair and beautiful brown eyes. He has a lot of friends, he studies hard, and he works at his family’s restaurant as a bus boy. Kyle is the goalie for the high school varsity soccer team. He is an excellent goalie. He can stop a ball from almost any angle. He is able to block penalty kicks and direct kicks with such precision that it looks as if the player intentionally kicked to Kyle. At practice, he is usually the first one ready to warm up and always stays to help collect soccer balls and put away the practice jerseys. He is respected by the other players and coaches and looked up to as a leader on his team.

This seems like the average bio of a good student athlete; like the speeches you hear at a sports banquet, right?

There is one thing I failed to mention to you about Kyle. He is deaf. That changes things, doesn’t it? Kyle is 100% deaf. I believe he was born deaf and has never had hearing aids of any kind. Can you imagine playing a sport, starting in one of the most critical positions, but not being able to hear the referee blow the whistle when the game starts? That is Kyle’s life. The local news once did a profile of him and started it by showing a clip of a soccer game without any audio. The broadcaster went on to explain that this is how Kyle experiences every game. The news segment was amazing and the comments that Kyle’s coach and teammates said were kind and complimentary. Kyle didn’t hear any of them.

Kyle and I had a blast becoming friends. At the beginning of the season, he taught me (and one of my players, Kelli) a new word in sign language every day, like “sea turtle” or “tree”. He would give me pop quizzes on the bus rides to games. I usually failed. But none the less, he, Kelli, and I would always manage to sit together going and coming to away games.

I finally purchased, at a yard sale, a kids book on sign language and read it daily to rehearse. He would laugh at me because when I got to practice I would run up to him, fan my hands in his face to get his undivided attention, and then do a simple sign, like “boat”. He would say, “Good, Coach. A boat.” Like I was a first grader or something. It was hilarious.

Kyle was killed in a car accident last night. 1 week from graduation. I am heartbroken.

Because it’s stupid to be sad about a TV show ending, I’m not going to post a big fat blog about Gilmore Girls ending tonight. Instead, I’ll quote an article I wrote about 18 months ago that talks about GG. My own homage, if you will.

Every Tuesday night a group of us get together around 7:30pm. We mingle, we talk, we laugh, and we usually eat something listed on the top triangle of the food pyramid that is delicious and covered in chocolate. We have coffee, talk about our days, the highs and the lows. We are a collection of girlfriends who love being together. As soon as a clock, any clock, hits 7:55pm, we head up the carpeted stairs to the playroom where we pile up onto futons, couches, and big fluffy pillows on the floor. And we watch Gilmore Girls. Phones are silenced. Lights are off. No husband, son, friend, or foe is more important than Lorelai, Luke, and Rory. We sing the theme song with reckless abandon- “If you’re out on the road, feeling lonely and so cold…” But then, we are as silent as church mice while our “friends” in Stars Hollow, Connecticut live their lives for our viewing pleasure.

It’s more than just watching a show. It’s who I watch it with and how I love them. I will miss that more than I miss Lorelia, Sookie, Rory, and Luke.

For you girls, I present the following picture. Kurt deserves nothing less.If you’re out on the road, feeling lonely and so cold, all you have to do

Let me just give you dream scenario- great spring Saturday, boiled peanuts, Diet Dr. Pepper, the North Georgia mountains, and the Relevant Magazine podcasts featuring Donald Miller (author of Blue Like Jazz). You may call that a dream; I call it last Saturday. And it ruled.

Donald Miller is an interesting character. I dig him. Big time. I like hearing someone that is a solid writer talk about social justice and American culture. He talked about how our culture is addicted to money and what money can buy us. Did you know the average American sees 3000 commercial images a day? That’s nuts. He said this-

“For a follower of Christ in our culture….. if I’m not in withdrawal pretty often, then something is wrong.”

And then he talks about tithing and understanding how to enter into withdrawal- living with less so that our lives can’t become about money. But it’s not just about the first 10%, it’s about our whole lives being lived in a way that denies our human flesh desires. (Can someone please give me a less churchy word that “flesh”! I’m sure there is one out there, but I can’t think of it!)

I think Don Miller is right, and I struggle with this. But I’ll tell you what, since listening to this, more than once a day I have said to myself, “It is okay to feel unsatisfied. It is okay to ignore your flesh do the opposite of what it craves. In fact, it’s GOOD.”

Call me crazy, but I want to live like that. I think I have this belief system ingrained in my sweet little American heart that if there is a way to be more comfortable, then gosh darn it- find it!! And if there is a way to be happier or more relaxed, satisfied, sedated- then get it.

Don’t get me wrong- God wants us to enjoy His blessings and provision, but that doesn’t mean I get everything I want when I want it. I’m an adult-an adult Christian- I don’t need a pacifier. I just need Jesus. Know what I’m saying? So I guess withdrawal and saying no to my screaming flesh are one in the same to me. Because saying NO to my natural tendencies is saying YES to God in me. Exercise when you don’t want to. Talk to someone at Kroger that you’d rather avoid. Read the Bible EVERY morning. Be disciplined. Be real. Be whatever it takes to live in withdrawal, so that the Holy Spirit rules you- not your flesh. I’m working on it- and when I get it right (rare), it feels good- like your lungs feel “good” right after you’ve run up a hill. Not really relaxed or comfortable, but STRONG.

Continue to pray for my trip to Scotland. I still need about $800 and a fresh word for God for these students. A super amazing friend of mine encouraged me a LOT today about God planting something in me for these students- it’s set my heart on a determined path to find that word. So PLEASE pray. I depend on it.

FYI- God has given me the best today. I’m living all in it. Just so you know.

“….although I have scattered them among the countries, yet will I be to them as a little sanctuary….”

I heard this verse in a play at the Theare on the Square Thursday night. (Sidenote- if you live in Marietta, get yourself to the TOTS and see the new play about the Sanders family. Hilarious, touching, deeply spiritual, and did I mention HILARIOUS?!?)

When I think of a sanctuary, I think of Notre Dame in Paris, France. I don’t know if you have been there, but it is probably my favorite sanctuary in the world. It’s dark and cold. Every step you take is heard by every other person in the building, so that there is a constant swooshing sound as people slide their feet across the tile. Candlelight flickers from small votives lit around the room and some sunlight streams through the stain-glassed windows, but there is no overhead lighting (that I remember, at least). And maybe, if you are lucky, there is a priest reading scripture in Latin or French, in a deep melodic voice that reverberates through the room. And THAT is a sanctuary. That place is holy. Set apart. Safe. It makes my soul settle down in me just thinking about it.

I always think of God when I’m there. I love imagery in scripture, in life. I guess it’s my lack of smarts, but it really helps if someone gives me a picture of what they are talking about. So I think, as much as a sinner can grasp it, I kinda get this idea of God as a sanctuary. Because how often do you wish life would slow down and you could just take a deep breath and sit for a minute? I think it all the time. And what I’m really saying, I think, maybe screaming like the gypsy in Hunchback of Notre Dame, “SANCTUARY!” or “Something! Anything! Just be safe and quiet and still for my heart! Protect me!”

I think God reminded me this week that HE is that place. He is my safe place. He is my sanctuary. A place of rest, a place a quiet, a place of reverent hope.

The entire train of thought, my brain trip to Paris, the idea of sanctuary, also brings back to my mind a favorite old praise song that we used to sing in France. The Americans would sing it in English and the Frenchies would echo in French. What I would give if there was YouTube in 1996.

You are my hiding place
You always fill my heart with songs of deliverance
Whenever I am afraid
I will trust in You
I will trust in You
Let the weak say “I am strong
in the strength of my Lord”
I will trust in You

I pray you find sanctuary in God today.

If that is even what my life would be considered. Probably most of you would disagree because you have to live and work and play on the outskirts of my insanity. And for that, I apologize or congratulate, not sure.

The auction was fun. I’ll expound when it’s a little more of a memory.

In the shoe aisle of Target late one night last week, my heart got a breather. A respite from all that’s been going on. I’ll tell you one thing about living by yourself- there is an unfortunate amount of self-reflection and self-torture with no one to interrupt. Thank you, Jennifer Battles, for interrupting. Just to talk over what’s been going on with someone besides myself, and those closest to the situations, is good. Real good. Especially when you also get to try on sparkly flip-flops.

Ready for a less than profound thought that you have probably already learned?

TRUE FREEDOM IS IN SELF-CONTROL.

Freedom doesn’t come from doing whatever you want as much as you want; freedom is the ABILITY to do whatever you want as much as you want but CHOOSING not to. I’m relearning this everyday.

A parent asked me yesterday if I was going to cry on the last day of school. FYI- teachers are SO busy the last 3 days with the kids, that we aren’t sad then. We’re sad now, watching our kids everyday, do the everyday things, and knowing that the minutes are slowly ticking away.

I bought a blender. I make smoothies for breakfast.

I forget how much I enjoy the music of the Foo Fighters until I see a clip of them from SNL on this awesome recap show on NBC right now.

I think I may be tired of being blond. So don’t be shocked if you see some sort of mousy brown haired girl coming toward you and then realizing it’s me.

Sometimes it is just as healing and spiritual to be in a home where you are loved as it is to be at church. Banana quesadillas. “Night at the Museum”. I experienced God there on Carmain Lane tonight. Thank y’all.

A few of us are taking a travel writing class. Check Ryan’s blog for a true summary. It’s really nice to have a reason to write. I’m hoping and praying that this class was be a real return to writing for me.

Pray for Brad and Amanda’s boy, Nathan. They invested A LOT of time and love in us as students at FUMC Marietta in the 90s- now we can attempt to repay them in prayer.

This picture just makes me happy. I hope it does the same for you. The flowers look kind, if that’s a word you can use to describe photos.

By the way, this is my 100th post on this blog. I have no witty comment for that. It’s just a fact, people. Take it or leave it.

Goodnight. Ping-pong brain signing off.

is the Missions Dinner and Auction at RiverStone.
Over 300 items!!
26 theme baskets!!
Food from Italian Kitchen!!

I sleep, eat, and think AUCTION constantly.

If you’re in town, come to RiverStone tonight at 6:30pm. You can totally buy a ticket at the door. For no extra cost, you get to watch me, Haley, and Molly run around like chickens with our heads cut off. All for a good cause. All to see our mission teams for 2007 fully funded! (Pray that with us!)

I’ll be normal soon.