idontbelieveingrammar

Sometimes I get this urge to do something a little drastic. And I’m mostly too old for piercings and tattoos (ok that hasn't really stopped me yet, but at least not during the school year), so last night I had to settle for a bottle of hair dye. And I’m not really sure what it is, but somehow the 8.99$ spent on whatever dye I choose always seems to renew me. At least a little. I know this is a little teenagerish of me to think that new hair will make me a new girl. But it always seems to help. Last weekend, I ran a race and at one point we were trudging through the mud and the people in front of us stopped in their tracks. Quick sand. They warned. And they tugged and pulled and retrieved lost shoes from the mud. The trick was just to keep moving. Not to stop. Because each time I paused, to catch my breathe, I would sink a little bit lower. And further. Making it only harder to move at all. This week has felt a little bit like quicksand. And it is probably because I am barely keepin...

Lately I have been busy. School started three weeks ago. And I’m already about three weeks behind in grading papers and lesson plans. I’m training for a race in a few weeks that I’m so not ready for. Soccer season has started. And there are appointments, open houses, practices and already sick kids. And today I noticed something I hadn’t noticed in about a month. A man living in his van. Literally down by the river (or technically a lake). I had just parked at the dam and was about to try and ride my bike across the 8 mile stretch . This slightly dirty long haired guy in a old beat up van started to pull all kinds of things out of the back. Usually this is where I feel my heart being pulled and I can’t not do something. Say something. Give something. At least try. In some awkward way to help. At least, look the guy in the eye and say hello. Instead, I wasn’t sure. I talked myself out of it. Maybe he wasn't really homeless and I'd just insult him by offering to help. Because wh...

Recently I read Radical by David Platt. I’ll talk more about that later. Maybe. I kind of had a mixed response ……but the last chapter I am especially a fan of. It asks you to commit to reading the entire bible and praying for the entire year (and a few other things) over the course of the next year. And I decided I was in. That was a few weeks ago. And I’m not so good about every single day. But I am doing it. The praying for the world part is especially challenging because I’m pretty sure I am the world’s worst prayer. Atleast the focused, remember to pray for your friends, and quiet listening type of prayer. And big general things like world peace and countries I have never heard of. Forget it. The “please help” and occasional “thanks” prayers I have down pat. But there is a great website ( http://www.operationworld.org/ ) that walks you through specific countries and needs to pray for each day. And so today. I was good. I had some time before my 1st block class and I we...

As teachers, every year we sit through convocation. It is essentially a grown up pep rally. We all wearing matching shirts and sit with our schools. Elementary teachers sometimes do “cheers” and get out their clappers. High school teachers grumble under their breathe, text on their cell phones and some skip out entirely. Often the speakers ask us say silly things to our neighbor, or worse. Dance. The speakers are usually good. Have written best selling books and tout a lot about building relationships, positive attitudes, raising test scores. Blah.blah.blah. And this year, we had another well known speaker. I dreaded it, even though I had bought his book not too many years ago. Because I don’t like being packed tightly in a gym when I have so many things to do in my room. I don’t want another person to tell me how positive I need to be. Or that I can make a difference. And I certainly didn’t want to dance. I came prepared. With my cell phone, sour attitude and matching shirt. I wondere...

Camp day 3. (feel free to catch up here and here ) The kids are comfortable. A little too comfortable. We are all hot and tired and kind of getting a little short with each other. Names are easy to remember. I know my way around. I don't feel lost anymore. There is more than enough food at lunch today and it is good. There are even brownies. I try not to notice that some of the kids are wearing the same clothes they wore yesterday. It is pretty obvious that some of the camp summer work staff (not ours) is less than thrilled to have us here. I’m sure they are nearing the end of their summer, and let’s face it. They are used to rich white church camp kids. Not kids with tattoos and nipple rings and foul mouths. The staff is a little low on patience and understanding. The counselor I am working with wins major props with me for telling off a life guard for basically being a jerk to our kids. Because by now. On day three, they are very much our kids. Also, maybe bb guns ( loaded bb gu...

When I was ten I fell on a piece of glass and sliced open my left hand. The scar is thick and a little lumpy because I waited too long to get stitches. On my other hand is larger white scrappy scar from a bike injury. The involved me trying to beat the boys. My knees are thick with scars. More bikes, tennis courts and plain old clumsy. My son has a few already and he gladly shows them off. They are a testament to his toughness. The one on his back shows that he did in fact survive jumping (and falling off the bed). There is one on his chin that the ER doctors glued shut – we no longer practice diving in the bathtub. And a little one on his hairline that received a few staples. But I have a favorite scar. It is about 6 inches across and marks a thin pink raised line across my lower abdomen. My son’s delivery ended in an emergency c-section. After all the pushing and blood I really didn’t care how he got here. Even if it involved slicing across my belly and eventually 19 staples. Every n...

Recently I met an old friend for lunch. He was actually my senior high prom date. He wasn’t just my prom date, but had been my friend for a good part of high school. And our group has mostly stayed in touch through the years. But not him. Even though we live in the same big metroplex, I hadn’t seen him in almost 15 years. At prom, He even won some kind of senior superlative, Mr. BHS or something like that. In other words, he was well-liked, nice, funny and smart. And it helped that he drove a Camero. We didn’t break up or have a falling out. He kind of just disappeared. And not just from me, but from everyone. And I had looked for him. At class reunions. On myspace. And eventually, only about a year ago, he finally showed up on facebook. When he did, I suggested we get together for dinner or something. And he responded with a really awkward email. Explaining that he was gay. Warning me. Trying to let me out of my dinner invitation if I wanted. And I already knew this. Possibly I had ev...

Tonight I went running with a friend ten years my junior. I asked her how far she was running and when she said only about 1.5 or 2 miles, I teased her that I could go at least twice that far. And to just let me know when she needed to stop. I have been running pretty regularly for the last few weeks. It isn’t long but keep increasing my time and distance. I’ve stopped getting blisters. I don’t suck wind after five minutes anymore and I was feeling pretty good about myself. Thinking I might even be able to out run this girl who was so much younger and obviously in more shape than me. As we started to jog I told her that I run pretty slow. Like my husband used to walk beside me while I ran, slow. And she slowed her gait a little bit for me but it was still faster than I usually go. I was a little embarrassed and was not going to ask her to slow down again. So I just ran at her pace. I stayed close. And was fading fast. A little over a mile in I was ready to quit. Again, pride, which isn...

Altar calls always make me cringe. Which then makes me feel guilty. Which makes me wonder if I should be mouthing along. Just in case. It is a vicious cycle. This week our Sunday School class finished up a video study we are doing. The study was good. The story powerful and the speaker polished. Even if her bright orange overcoat matched the exact shade of her hair and she was occasionally a little too kitschy for me. She made a lot of good points. Had an amazing story and had made me think and occasionally cry over the last few weeks. But her altar call made my eyes glaze over. I tried to tune her out and not get irritated. She said the usual verses, leading in of course with John 3:16. She even threw out the classic, “If you died tonight, do you know where you would spend eternity” card. And very eloquently laid it all out and asked the audience and viewers to follow along. And I couldn’t help but think, isn’t there more than that. More than escaping hell. More than some perfectly cr...

I hand him his ice cold drink and smile and look him in the eye. Even though I don’t even know his name. He tells me that I’m doing a good thing. He has seen me down here most days this week. Dragging my blue cooler along behind me full of water and juice and sodas. Handing them out freely to the men and women melting into the sidewalks down on East Lancaster Street. Some are napping. Some are talking in groups. Some are smoking and some are doing things I don’t even want to know about. It usually only takes me minutes to empty my cooler. I’m not really sure how to respond to my new friend. Because I want to do something good I suppose. I want to at least do something. Even though 95% of the time I am content sitting on the couch. Reading. Blogging. Checking facebook. So I just kind of stand there staring into his face for a minute. And he repeats it. “You are doing a good thing here. You are a good person.” And I tell him, “No, I’m really not.” No one really is. As a matter of fact I’...