I don't write much any more...

 

Don't write much these days.

I hardly have time to breathe.

Elle me manque beaucoup.

I truly do think with my fingers, processing life as I write about what is happening, what I'm mulling over in my mind. 

So much has happened since I last visited this space :

• One has changed jobs, at least twice.
• One has traveled to South Korea, learned to speak the language, and then come back home to us.
• Two have graduated from university... another from high school.
• One has gotten engaged and will be married in a few months.
• One has taken a pause from post secondary studies to work full time.
• One has chosen on-line school to move more rapidly through the program and plans a year of Bible school.
• Two have new drivers' permits.
• One has started her driver's training classes and another should be before too long.
• One has started post-secondary studies and is nailing it.
• Two are coaching basketball.
• One is playing volleyball.
• Two are playing basketball.
• One is now a basketball ref.
• One has given up coloring her hair. Six others are game to try all sorts of interesting colors.
• Two will soon be gaining another "son"-in-love. We need more male hormones around this place.
• Ten (+ one more too), love being together and treasure those times more than ever because they are fewer and farther between than we'd like.
• One has almost forgotten how to type English on an English keyboard because she is so used to typing English on a French keyboard.

• Two have celebrated 28 years together and have been gifted eight amazing kids who are seeking to love God and love people in the best ways they know how and even if it isn't what I imagined it would look like.

No, I didn't even try to do a Twelvish Days of Christmas thing. That would have required too much thinking. 

We are living in our new home. I'm still pinching myself to make sure it isn't a dream. 

After over 30 moves in 28 years, the idea of not moving again is nothing less than lusciously delightful. It actually prompted me to pull out my diplomas and certificates and actually hang them on the wall in my office at school. If you follow me on Facebook or Instagram, you know how breathtakingly lovely our new-to-us space is. The kids have all been betting on when I will stop posting pictures. I hope I never do because this house, this space, is a gift from a gracious God whose good gifts, ones we could never merit, abound. We want to share this gift with others. I like to say, "The door's always open, except when it's not!" so if you are heading our way, let us know and we'll make sure you have the code!

Professionally... in ministry... the past few years have been hard. The pandemic. Forced distance from family. Becoming a principal. Deteriorating "societal" mental health. Multitudes choosing anger and self over civility, kindness and others. Me, myself and I forgetting frequently what it means to choose gentle and grateful, always and regardless of circumstances.

I wasn't looking to become a principal. It wasn't even on my top 100 list of maybe someday I might be interested in possibly trying this. It was nowhere close to even being on the radar. 

I know how to be a special educator and figure out tricks to help kids learn both academic and social skills. 

I know how to be a mom, partnering with my husband to lead a family. 

I've learned (got the scars to prove the learning curve) how to be a missionary, surviving and sometimes thriving in a foreign culture and language and trying to point people towards Jesus while accepting the cost of that choice... for me as well as for those I love. 

Being a principal? I am...

Clueless. Yet intelligent answers are expected.

Confused. Yet that I've figured out the babble in my second language while living in my fifth majorly different culture is automatically assumed.

A casualty of chaos. Never time to stop running. A closed door is simply an invitation to interrupt with a frantic knock. Yet mountains of paperwork must be completed on time. Well-thought, carefully crafted strategy and future plans are required. 

Cuffed, regularly, by capriciousness. Sometimes I think I am appreciated. Occasionally, I even feel welcomed. Yet what others seem mostly to want is a listening followed by doing what they ask without offering my opinion or questioning. Then, when the criticism starts flying, my smiling grateful acceptance is due.

Compromised. In an atmosphere where it only counts as listening when I do what the other wants, yes, respecting my conscience is continuously challenged.

Cross, way too often. Repeated failure and the inability to meet expectations takes an immense toll on this perfectionist pleaser. Yet calm must always be projected. 

I can't say I love what I do. Many days, I can't honestly say I even like what I do.

I don't know how to do this job. I think the current "vogue" term is "imposter's syndrome." 

I am the blind person being told to lead others who are confident of their impeccable 20-20 vision.

I hope, and pray that God is creating something that will honor his name and point to his glory because I am currently, confidently convinced that I cannot.

Maybe, that isn't such a bad place to be.

Pray without ceasing

Inhale, exhale, breathe.

Mon Dieu me soutient.