Overheard

Overheard outside my classroom today:

A seventh grader was wondering around and muttered:

"My locker was just here a minute ago…I don't know where it went!!"

Quick update

The first few days of school went well. The air conditioning unit is currently not working [missing a part], so my classroom has been over ninety degrees by the afternoon. That has proven miserable; however, despite the hear I must say that I still love my job. It's good to be back in the classroom. I think I'm going to have a good group of students as well.

We have our first softball games this week and round out the week with a tournament on Saturday. The first full week of school always feels much longer than it should, so I'm sure I'll be exhausted by that time.

Brent has been very patient and supportive, as always, as I get my feet underneath me again. He's also training for another half marathon…so…he's crazy.

I know it's always difficult to get back "in the swing of things" when school starts. What is it like for the rest of you [either teachers/ parents of school age kids]? What is the toughest part of returning to the routine of school?

number 21

If you don't count preschool, tomorrow will be my 21st first day of school.

Hard to believe.

In brief, here is what I remember from every year:

Kindergarten: Loved my teacher. "Best friend" was in class. Girl named Wendy threw up all the time. Faked falling asleep to get naptime stickers.

First grade: Got my name on the board. Wasn't my fault. Took a pretend trip to space. It was awesome.

Second grade: Teacher made us grits when we read a southern story that mentioned them. Have loved them ever since.

Third grade: Loved this year. Committed the worst crime I've ever done in school: passed a mean note about a sub. Still feel sorry about that.

Fourth grade: Heard horror stories about my teacher. LOVED.loved.LOVED my teacher. Had the biggest classroom in the school. Learned the difference between "bring" and "take"

Fifth grade: My homeroom teacher smelled like heaven. I learned cups, ounces, liters etc. Had a reading corner that I thoroughly enjoyed.

Sixth grade: Finished writing my first book, "Party On," that I had started in fourth grade. Had a boy ask to be my boyfriend for the first time. Told him no. Cleaned overhead projector for teacher all the time in math class.

Seventh grade: Started growing my bangs out. Excellent decision. Sang "My heart will go on" from Titanic everyday as a class to our civics teacher.

Eighth grade: Fell in love with basketball. Smelled formaldehyde for the first time in science.

Ninth grade: Took geometry and algebra. Hated that decision. Made varsity basketball.

Tenth grade: Fell in love with language arts. 9-11 happened during first hour Biology class.

Eleventh grade: Doubled up in Language Arts classes so I could fit in as many as I could before I graduated. Joined yearbook staff. Started to enjoy softball.

Twelfth grade: Took four English classes, and no math or science classes. Loved it. Loved sports. Yearbook editor. Student body president. Graduation.

Freshman in college: Cried for an entire semester. Made awesome friends. Figured out I HAD to study.

Sophomore year: Continued to study. Got mono. Figured out I HAD to sleep.

Junior year: Became an RA. Continued to study. Continued to get sleep. Continued to miss Brent. Took a Shakespeare class. Loved it. Got engaged.

Senior year: Took the hardest class ever: Linguistic Perspectives. Loved it. Student taught. Knew it was my calling. Graduated.

Year one teaching: Kentucky--Was a nervous wreck. Survived. Survived. Really started liking my job around November.

Year two teaching: Kentucky-- Best.year.ever. Awesome kids. Awesome colleagues. The year by which every year will be measured.

Year three teaching: Missouri-- Back to my alma mater. Remembered what small classes were like. Built a very strong community with my students very quickly. Coached softball and basketball. Was exhausted all year. Year went by in a blur.

Year four teaching: Begins tomorrow. Prayers please. Thanks.

Our Story: Part IX

To read this story from the beginning, click HERE and scroll to the bottom. Enjoy!

Part IX:

Change

I slowly release the doorknob and turn around. Brent is within four feet, looking fairly determined to have this conversation, but also looking slightly different than usual. Different, but safe to talk with, so I give in.

"We can go outside," he suggests. I throw on my coat and barrel out the door. The cold immediately seeps through my outer layer and a suck in a quick, startled breath. "Wow…here…" He opens up his car door for me and I tumble in. He slides into the other side and starts the ignition.

David Crowder Band pours out of the speakers, Lift my eyes to Your sky, rid my heart of all I hide…So sweet this surrender. He fumbles with the heater and I fumble with the bible in my hands. I search my mind for small talk, anything to postpone the inevitable, "Kels, we're just friends. That's all. Okay?" But nothing pops up. Nothing. He turns the music knob to the left a hair and then looks up at me. I give him a shy smile, then he grips the wheel as if we were driving and looks out the windshield.

The February wind is howling around us but all my hopes at the moment are right in this old, red VW Passat.

"Kels…"

I try not to move lest I look too eager, too scared, too needy.

"I've been wanting to talk to you for awhile now." He stopped.

"Okay. What's up?" I try to urge him forward to end my agony. My body is now unbelievably warm.

"Well, the thing is," he grips the steering will with both hands then sets them in his lap. He looks up at me, then back at his lap. "The thing is, I've liked you for about 3 years."

I don't know if I am supposed to respond yet, so I hold my breath, not wanting how I react in this moment to negate the past three years.

The car starts making a grating sound under the hood. "And," he continues, "I don't know what that sound is, and I don't know what all this means, and I don't know where it will lead, but I just thought you should know." He looks at me.

I want to be articulate in this moment because this moment is what I have prayed for, dreamt of, for 3 years. "Umm…okay…well…huh…I've liked you for about 3 years too." I let out a nervous giggle. And he laughs under his breath and smiles at his hands.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know and now I guess we'll see where the Lord leads us."

"Sounds awesome."

And with that he flips off the ignition. He looks over at me and I smile at him. A smile that no longer has to hide. I open the door, he says he'd email me tomorrow, and he runs back into the church as I make my way to my car. I sit inside, waiting for things to warm up, and his words echo inside, I guess we'll see where the Lord leads us. US. Us. Brent and Kelsey. An us?

I begin to replay the conversation over and over in my mind as I drive the twenty minutes home. The gravel crunches under my tires as I pull into my driveway, my cheeks nearly aching from the constant smile. I waltz into the kitchen and my dad catches a glimpse of me. I can see in his face he is wondering what is wrong with me.

"Brent said he LIKED me! ME!" I blurt out. Oh my goodness. I just told my PARENTS. Before anybody else.

"Well I could tell by that twitterpated look on your face and the little love birds floating around your head," Dad jests.

I walk upstairs and flop onto my bed. I smile up at the ceiling. Brent said he liked me. Me! Thank you, Jesus.

* * *

I roll over and hit the snooze. It's been a nearly a week since the conversation in the car, and I am still waiting for Brent to call and tell me it's a big joke. Today is Valentine's Day. I, like I always have in the past, have made plans to babysit so someone else can go out and enjoy the evening. I never thought I'd have had a conversation with a boy and been on the brink of something like a relationship.

I groggily get out of bed, pull on sweat pants and a hoody, and make my way downstairs. As I'm slowly waking up the phone rings and I grab it.

"Hey Kels, it's me."

Him. "Hey. What's up?"

"Uh, well, I know you have plans to babysit tonight, right?"

"Yeah. Avree and Rylie at about 5."

"Okay, well, what if I swing by around 4 after I get off work. It will just be for a minute but I want to bring you something."

"Oh. Okay. Yeah. That's fine. I'll be here."

"Sounds good then, I'll see you around four."

"K. Bye."

I hang up the phone, panic rising in my throat. I hadn't even thought about getting him something for Valentine's Day. Not even a card! And he wanted to drop something by? Oh great, I hope he didn't get me roses. Surely he knows me better than that!

* * *

I hear footsteps on the front porch and glance out the window. I see Brent…carrying his guitar? Opening the door I flash a smile and invite him in. This is the first time he's been to my house by himself and, though we have rarely ever been openly nervous around each other, the nerves are slightly evident to us both.

He sets his guitar down behind the couch then grabs a seat. "Are your parents here?"

"Not at the moment but they should be back any minute."

"Well, I want to be respectful of them and I didn't know if they would want me here if they weren't."

Seriously? This guy is too perfect. Although, he's probably still on just phase one of liking me whereas I'm on at least phase 53. "They normally don't, but I let them know and, like I said, they'll be back soon. And I have to be over at the house to babysit in about 40 minutes so…"

"Well, I just wanted to acknowledge that it was Valentine's Day so…" he hands me a cassette tape, "I recorded a few of the worship songs I sing on Sunday nights for you on here, since you'd mentioned something about that a while back."

I flip the tape over in my hand, cherishing it already. "Thanks. That's awesome. I didn't get you anything though…sorry."

"I didn't want you to. Don't even worry about it. Oh, and one more thing," he says as if it's an afterthought. He stands and moves to grab his guitar case. He begins to unclasp the gold hinges and I simply sit, waiting, afraid to say too much. He grips the guitar in his hands now, strums the strings lightly, making a few adjustments to the toners. "I started working on this about a month ago, and then last week after I finally had the guts to talk to you I wanted to finish it." He passes me a piece of folded notebook paper.

Taking the paper into my hands, I look at him. He cues that I may open it. As I unfold it, I can see that the lines are heavily creased, as if it's been opened and closed many times. I see his handwriting and then my mind begins to organize the fact that it appears to be a poem? No… a song…

I look up at this realization and Brent places his fingers across the frets and begins strumming. A song I've never heard before. A song, I'm slowly realizing, that was born because he met me.

When I look into your eyes, the beauty captures me like the morning skies…

Born because of our friendship.

And when you smile it makes my day, and all my pain just melts away…

Born because of the past three years of longing for one another.

You laugh with no fear of the future, when you speak your words are wise. There's kindness when you give instruction...

Born because of a cold conversation in an old, worn out car.

I hear the laundry room door open and I glance that way just in time to see my parents walking into the house. Here I am with a a guy they barely know, sitting on the couch, listening to him sing me a song he wrote. They quickly gather what is happening and walk quickly towards their bedroom. Brent barely misses a beat and sings right through the intrusion. As he finishes I find I am speechless.

"I added that to the end of the cassette tape too, in case you like it."

He is so unassuming and endearing and I can't help but get butterflies all over and I'm smiling like a fool.

"Thank you. So much. Really. Thanks."

"You're welcome. And I know you need to babysit so I'm gonna take off. Glad you liked it."

And with that, he packs up his guitar and heads back out the door. No lingering. No hug. Just a song and good bye. I run upstairs and throw the cassette tape into my player in the bathroom. I slide onto the cool tile and cling onto the lyrics in my hand. I fast forward and find the song, my song, and has his voice fills up the room I lay my head against the cabinet and let a single tear slide down my cheek.

The possibilities with this amazing guy leave me speechless.

* * *

Alaska

No, I haven't been in Alaska since the last time I posted but I am finally going to post some pictures from this awesome trip. I have kept plenty busy since being back doing things like beginning softball practice, working in my classroom to get ready for kids next week! [more on this later], waiting in anticipation as Kali delivered my newest niece, Ellie Kate [see pics here], and soaking in the last little bit of summer I have. But those will all get posts of their own someday soon I'm sure. For now, here are some pics from the trip in no particular order.

Micah and I at Captain's reception

We left from Seattle

Night shot of Victoria, Canada. Gorgeous.

If you look closely you'll see a whale.

Our room.

Beautiful glacier from our window.

It was very cold.

Leaving Seattle

Icy water near glacier.

Water was gorgeous aqua color.

This was in Sitka.

The group "Voices of Lee" were entertainment on the ship. They are an accapella group from Lee University in Cleveland, Tennessee. You may have seen them on "The Sing Off" on NBC two years ago? They made it to the final three. They are awesome. They were also the youngest people on the cruise by about 60 years besides us…so we hung out some.

Cool, Russion cemetery in Sitka.

Our ship.

And here is a shot of why my stomach lurched frequently while "at sea".

It was a once in a lifetime trip and it was wonderful to share it with Micah. I highly recommend Alaska if you love gorgeous scenery with mountains. We went Kayaking one day and saw seals and tons of bald eagles. It was surreal. Wonderful trip. Wonderful time. Given the opportunity to go on another cruise, I think I would rather fly somewhere and stay a week. The rocking of the ship and the on and off were eventually enough for me! :) But I'm so glad I did and so thankful for the opportunity.

400

Yesterday I realized I had reached 400 posts on this here blog of mine. Although I wish I had more time to write, I am thankful that I started this my senior year of college. Now don't worry, I'm not going to bore you with a list of 400 things about me or anything, but I thought I would share a list of 4 reasons why I write here: [Hint, if you click on the links that are different colors they will take you to a something I wrote about that topic]:

1. Just like under my heading, I write to "feel the wind on my face." So often in life we experience something that makes us question and wonder, or we experience something that makes us grieve or laugh… but we let that moment pass by. One of the main reasons I write is because I want to be able to really immerse myself in the things that happen to me, not just have a beautiful spring breeze wash over me and then forget about it. I want to capture what it feels like to miss a place, or the pain of caffeine addiction, or even the power of smell. I don't want a smell or feeling to pass by; I want to be reflective of what is happening around me, and in me. So, I write to feel the wind on my face.

2. I also write here to "remember the moments." I love remembering. I love to get lost in the patchwork of my past. To curl up with a mug of coffee and recall the things that have made me. Whether it is trying to picture my Grandma in English class, or the loss of someone I loved deeply [and here], or reminiscing about family vacations [and here], places that have made me- ME, or moments in teaching that have defined me and made me cry and laugh, I write to remember those moments.

3. I write to "feel the breath of God."It's pretty incredible how much life has been lived between 400 blog posts. It's pretty incredible how much I've had to grow and change and accept so many responsibilities since I first started typing in my dorm room my senior year. It's pretty incredible that all the while God has been right here with me, writing my story long before I ever touch a finger to the keyboard. For that reason I'm not linking up past stories I've written on this one because they way I look at it, they all are very full of the things of God. One of my favorite hymns says, "O the deep, deep love of Jesus, love of every love the best! 'Tis an ocean vast of blessing, 'tis a haven sweet of rest. O the deep, deep love of Jesus, 'tis a heav'n of heav'ns to me; And it lifts me up to glory, for it lifts me up to Thee." What sweet assurance that no matter where life leads, no matter what the next 400 blog posts may read, I have a Savior to follow; a Savior who is leading me-- and that is also worth writing about.

4. And last but not least, I write because of community. I once had a mentor tell me that if you don't have a group of people with whom you're living messy with, then you're not really living. Here is where I like to live messy. Where I can share how much I'm resisting change, or my fears, or about leaving things I love. I can write about growing up. This is a place where I can live messy with those of you who dare to read. So thank you for being on this journey with me, whether you leave comments or not [leave comments!], just knowing someone is reading this writing helps me keep writing for all of these reasons.

**And I will be gone for a bit…leaving on an Alaskan cruise tomorrow with my dear friend, Micah. I am greatly looking forward to it and will write all about it when I return!**

Our Story: pictures

The first mission trip to Branson. Here is the original "quad." Brent and I were 15!

Top left to right: Brent and Brandon

And that is Micah next to me.

Summer camp-- 2003

Brent's hair was ridiculously long this summer. Derek is next to me. Can you tell this is when I lifted weights for basketball? Check out my quads! :-)

Here we are on the Colorado mission trip, summer of '03 also. This was on our hiking day in Estes.

We were just little boys and girls, but I knew what I was feeling… and boy oh boy did I like that kid with the mop of hair!

Our Story: Part VIII

To read this story from the beginning, click HERE and scroll to the bottom. Enjoy!

Part VIII:

Fear

I walk into the church and slide in next to Heather, Jon's girlfriend. It's been two weeks since the backseat conversation and I still find myself checking to make sure I'm breathing. I have managed for three years to contain, hide, and run away from my feelings for Brent, and in one moment jeopardized being exposed. I especially didn't want him to find out and feel obligated to talk to me about our feelings- yuck!

Heather glances up at me as I slide my purse under the pew. That's when I see it: a smile pulling just slightly at the corners of her lips. Unbelievable! I request one vow of secrecy and he can't even… She grabs my forearm and squeezes it, letting her smile fully blossom. "What?" I ask, trying to unclench my teeth.

"Nothing. It's nothing. I mean…" she's rambling, so clearly he's told her everything, "It's, well, it's just, it's just SO perfect!" The way she enunciates her T at the end of the word makes me want to crawl under the pew--no-- crawl inside my purse, under the pew.

But instead, chalking it up to the thing that killed the cat, I turn my head ever so slightly to the left and, feigning disinterest, ask,"Perfect?"

"I'm sorry. Jonathan told me." She hangs her head in mock shame for a second, then grabs my forearm with that joker-faced grin again.

I look at her grip on my arm, wondering why I've never understood the female need for physical touch in moments such as this. I look at her teeth staring at me in their pearly whiteness. "And what? I'm not gonna do anything…it was a mistake saying anything to Jon."

"No, it's not a mistake! He can drop some hints, see what's going on on the other side. Oh my gosh! We could double date!" she is squeaking now. Between the touch and the squeaking I'm really not sure I was supposed to be born with a uterus. "Kels, this is perfect! Why didn't you say something earlier?"

I glance over at Brent, merely 20 yards away. "Because I didn't want to make a scene."

But it was apparently too late.

* * *

Sunday evenings have meant bible study for me for nearly as long as I can remember, but I don't remember feeling the compulsion to put on perfume and lip gloss before. However, like I have so many times before, I decide to throw my hair in yet another pony tail, and leave on the jeans and tshirt I'm currently wearing. I don't want to appear to be trying to get attention, especially since at least two others know.

I jam my red Escort into park and tumble out into the parking lot. I throw my red parka over my shoulders and jog towards the door. January has just given way to February and in Missouri that means it is still frigid. Blasting cold air in with me, I walk through the basement door into the church. Several others are already there playing ping pong or sitting on the ratty couch talking. I throw my coat in the corner, continually averting my eyes from the guy in the back corner. I can't believe I used to think he was a jerk. I almost wish I could remember what it felt like to not know him, to not constantly think about him, to not shake with excitement every day when I received an email from him. Almost.

Kali couldn't believe he was still emailing me everyday. "He totally is into you. Guys don't just do that," she had told me a few months ago. But I had responded that he was just a great friend; he wouldn't want anything to get in the way of that.

"Hey, Kels." I turn to find that overly sized smile again. Heather just wasn't going to let this go. "Anything new?"

"No," I say, half statement, half question. "Why?"

"Well, I probably shouldn't tell you this but," she's touching my arm again, "Jon told me the other night that Brent came over to his house. And Brent said, 'Jon, if you were me and I knew what you know, would you want to know?' Confusing, right? But basically I think he figured out that Jon knows something. So anyway, Jon said, 'Yeah.' And then Brent said, 'Okay.'"

My stomach is in my throat, "And then what?"

"Well, and then Brent turned around and went right back home."

"What?"

"Yeah. So I think he likes you."

I will never understand how girls interpret things.

At that moment Lee, our leader, hollers at us to grab a seat at the table. My mind is complete mush as I make my way to the metal chair closest to me.

"Hey, when we're done tonight I want to talk to you real quick before you leave. Okay?" I look up into his brown eyes, and my heart is beating faster than the little drummer boy.

"Okay. Yeah."

"Okay." He grabs his guitar and walks to the head of the table.

I crumble into my chair. I don't hear a single word that is sung or spoken. All I hear is Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why did you let anyone know?! He hates you now. Now he thinks you're like all the other girls that can't think of anything else but what boys they like. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I foggily hear the last "Amen," and make a beeline for Heather. I pin her against the wall in a far corner and relay the "conversation" that I'd had with Brent.

"Okay, did he say he wanted to talk with you, or that he wanted to talk with you? Or did he want to TALK with you?"

"I don't know! I don't know!" I've never been a nail biter but in this moment wish that I had a bad, nervous habit I could rely on to distract me. "Heather, he know! He knows. And it's all because Jon knows. I'm so stupid!"

"Kels, calm down. He's probably gonna tell you he feels the same way."

"Yeah. Right. Because that's how my life works. No! He's going to say, 'Well Kels, it's been real fun, but I found out you like me or whatever, and I just don't feel that way, and so that makes our friendship really awkward now. We probably shouldn't hang out or talk anymore.' THAT is what he's going to say!"

Heather grabs my shoulders, and in her calmest voice says, "Probably not."

Probably!? I want more than probably right now, lady! "Maybe he forgot?" I suggest. "I think I'm just gonna head out. If it's that important we can talk some other time."

"Whatever. You'd be fine talking to him, but go ahead."

I give her one last look, attempting to come across confident, but look more like a kitten that's been scared up a tree. I wave at a few other people and then, grabbing my coat, walk briskly for the door. I'm inches from my escape, my hand is on the chilly doorknob…

"Kels, you really need to get going or can we have that talk?"

freedom!

My first year of teaching I had a student named Jeff. Jeff was a character and there are many, MANY, stories I could share [including him having to stand up in the back of my classroom because he kept falling asleep at his desk…eventually I looked up and sure enough, he's still standing, but he's completely asleep]. Well, I had Jeff the last period of the day. And everyday the bell would ring, they would stare at me like dogs waiting for chew toys, all anxious and whiney, and I would wave my wrist toward the door, signaling they could exit. Without fail, everyday, Jeff would stand up, pump both fists in the air, and channeling William Wallace would yell, "FREEDOM!!" [Yeah, didn't do a lot for my self esteem].

Well, yesterday I had a moment in which I thought of Jeff. I wanted to throw my head back, slap on my best Braveheart face paint, and yell "FREEDOM!!"

Because yesterday we decided to pay off the rest of Brent's student loans. And then, because we were feeling crazy, we decided to pay off the rest of one of my student loans. MEANING, we only have one of my loans left to pay off. FREEDOM! Even though it was a big chunk of change, we are thankful for the ways that God provides, and humbled that He entrusts us with His money.

However, I still feel like THIS about the remaining loan :-).

psalms

This morning I went to the school and "coached" my softball girls through weightlifting. On my way home I decided to stop at Joan's house. Joan is a sweet lady from the church I grew up in. I wrestled with myself, thinking it was too early and that I hadn't called ahead, but then I just pulled in the drive and knocked on the door. Two and half hours and a cup of coffee later I was so thankful I had. It reminded me of a piece I wrote back in college about these sweet moments of fellowship that pepper our life. Thanks for the wonderful morning, Joanie! Here is the story [I wrote a collection of stories about this group of friends but haven't shared many of them here since they are MY friends and you probably don't care ;)]:

I was reading in the Psalms today while I ate my lunch, the obsessive November wind licking at the window. I was eating my noodles and the words and letting them happen to me, the way puberty happens to a person.

I put down my fork and read Open up your mouth and He will fill it, and I took a sip of water and read again Open up your mouth and He will fill it. In the margin I think I should write beautiful so I will come back to this page and read it again and see beautiful written beside it and think beautiful again. But I don't. I stop my pen and I don't write because I want to stumble across this psalm again, and I want to feel the beauty instead of thinking it.

Open up your mouth and He will fill it and I wonder what this means and I pray it wil become a part of my marrow. And then, in my mind, I am there in the simple living room with all of them: Brent is at my right side, Derek at my left on the rose colored couch, and in the blue Lazy-Boy is Jon, kicked back. Cody lies on the floor in the center of the room, stomach down and Brandon, on the cream couch, sits opposite me, a throw pillow behind his neck.

I come back to this moment with Open your mouth and He will fill it knowledge and I hear our conversation anew. Derek tells us he will definitely be going overseas in the near future and shares a few stories from his last trip to Africa. Jon then enters the conversation and says he will marry the girl he is now dating. Brandon asks if she has a sister, and then asks Brent what they're going to do for his bachelor party. Brent says he just wants them to take one last road trip together. I ask if I can come along and only get facial responses. We all think Cody is asleep, but he lifts his head and says he is hungry-- and that he's pretty sure the girl he could marry is mad at him because he didn't call or write for four months.

Open your mouth and He will fill it in those moments in the living room when your conversation is not meant to be prayer.

I look back and I realize those moments of nothing were so full of God. We sometimes tried to be intentional about having conversations concerning theology or the Holy Spirit. We never realized these things of God were happening to us when we stopped thinking about them long enough to let them.

These memories are sweet on my tongue like the juice from freshly squeezed apples. I now realize the beauty of moments with friends and how, when you let them happen to you, it's like letting a psalm happen to you. This happening fills your mouth and becomes prayer-- a deep kind of prayer-- a prayer that happens with every memory of a living room conversation.

Open your mouth and He will fill it and things that are not prayer become prayer, and moments that are ordinary pierce us and fill us and we become holier because of them.

I thank God for these friends of mine, but I know I thank Him more when I send Derek a card or give Cody a call.

I know I thank Him more when I let Him fill my mouth.