Not one head turned, faces beaming,
hands at their sides, bubbles in their mouths.
Yet these have an unknown destination,
traveling where no man can see,
converging just beyond our eyes’ reach.

Who taught them how to stand in such a straight line?
I know it couldn’t have been my students.
But maybe today we’ll have school outside, I think
they could learn something from these obedient clouds.
Then we’ll return inside, only to have
their creativity break free once again.

.

.

i try to grasp them, to bind them, to tie them

to a page, but they’re never the same

as when they first left my mouth.

i would run too, if i was a word.

who lets themself be taken captive?

at least put up a fight for your well-deserved liberty.

and anyway, it’s much better to be free,

to be left up to faint wisps of memories

and vague rememberences of interpretations.

i can see them now, scattering

just out of reach and tangled enough to drape

their true form from the eye

of the one whose mind follows them

around every winding corner.

so for now, i’ll just let them be,

ever-reaching lines never destined to be bound

and gagged by writing implements,

flowing absolutely and forever free.

I don’t enjoy a two-week change in a perfectly good schedule, miles of driving, and singing songs about an overweight grandpa that watches me ALL THE TIME.  I especially don’t enjoy songs* that sugar-coat the birth of our Rescuer into something clean, quiet, and calm.  Don’t get me wrong, I teach first grade, songs with talking animals and little boys playing instruments are great – but when fiction and fact are constantly mixed, its a little tiring to say the least.

But, through all of this, I’ll fight to be her friend.  Because it’s inevitable that we’ll meet face to face, year after year, whether or not I’m ready for her.

So Christmas, here’s to you.

Right now, you’re just two days away.  You’re the day we, as Christians, have set aside each year to remember and remind each other of the moment in history where the mystery was revealed to earth – where it met heaven, met the truth, met its Rescuer.  The one life that changes how all life views itself in the prescence of God.  Because now, by faith, we can have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.  Because now, each time we mess up and act in ways that are so incredibly offensive to God, when we deserve nothing but death, He exchanges life.  Real life.  Abundant life.  Real abundant life that is eternal – that begins exactly where we are now, on earth, but lasts forever.  Let us rejoice that He changes things – people, realtionships, situations – He doesn’t let them stay broken and dead.  Let us rejoice that our bridegroom was born.  He was born among the poor, the hurting, the dirty, into the roughest of situations – that He could redeem it all.  Every entrenched area was uprooted by his hands and words.  And it still is.  We have hope.  We have hope because our Rescuer came and did not rest until death was killed.  Hallelujah.

Let us remember our warrior-bridegroom.  Let us rejoice that He’s coming back very soon.

So thank you, Christmas, for existing.  Thank you for meeting me each year.  Thank you for setting aside this time.  Let’s be friends.  Real ones.

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* Now, here’s the thing, music deeply affects me.  Concepts that can’t be expressed any other way are able to make sense when people communicate them with strings and drums and various metals.  So, where I’m going with this may not strike you in the same way, and that’s fine.  This is my blog, not yours.  You don’t have to agree with what I say, and there’s beauty in that as well.

thank you so much for bringing three fuzzy caterpillars into my classroom without my knowledge, only to have them escape. i’m sure the one that ended up in the music room enjoyed your sweet singing, and the one in our class thoroughly enjoyed the drawing center…  but i just must feel bad for the poor creature that found a different fate in the hallway.  students swerving at the sight of his marred body; the red fuzzy figure pancaked atop the linoleum floor.

the event of the day for sure.
i will see you tomorrow,

miss ratterree

Now don’t misunderstand me, teaching does take up much time. It is hard work that takes patience, energy, diligence, love, patience, creativity, preparations, and much more patience. And usually in the past pattern of life – because of my brokenness – patience was a struggle. Oh, but how much grace He has shown me this year! Everyday I am utterly astounded with how much patience has been produced through His Spirit in me. Words elude me to better describe these graces. And because our God continually teaches me sweetly of his ways, I trust (and know) that He has brought me here not only for my good, but also for His glory – so disciples of Jesus can be formed from these 6 and 7 year-olds.

Joy gushes forth from my spirit each day when I see my student’s faces, behold their blithe spirits, and hear their hilariously innocent words. They make me laugh so hard. I thought it best to share some with you.

• “Today my friend’s coming to sleepover.  Except she’s younger.  I’m six-and-a-quarter-and-a-half and she’s only six.”
• “Dear God thank you for this day.  Please help Satan not to turn us over to the evil side.  Amen.”
• “I wish I could live in a body… I mean, I wish I could live inside someone else’s body… like a giant.  I’ve never seen inside someone’s body before!”
• “You mean God loves us even more than all our other daddies?”
• [During Math] Me: “You have 4 pillows on your bed and your brother comes and takes 1 pillow away.  What do we do first?”  Student:  ”Ask him to give it back…?”
• “How do you spell TV?”
• “Miss Ratterree, this number right here is how old my mom is!”
• “Glue smells good… mmm…”

So, background: if you haven’t yet heard I’m moving to Temple, Texas.  Yes… Temple, Texas.  I’ll be teaching first graders at a school there called Central Texas Christian.  I’m elated to have my own classroom and teach under a Principal whom I respect greatly.  The Lord continues to place possibilities, plans, projects, and ideas in my mind for the class each day and it’s absolutely thrilling.  But in those moments I’m not thinking of ways to improve my future classroom, the weight of leaving people I love in the B/CS hits me like a corpulent man lolling on my chest.

Which brings me to yesterday.  I was driving back from bringing most of my material possessions to Temple and the Lord decided He would teach me – set things straight in my spirit once and for all.  Psalm 23 came upon my lips, bringing with it the sweet taste of His truth.

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“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.  He makes me lie down in green pastures.  He leads me beside still waters.  He restores my soul.  Even though I walk through the Valley of Deep Darkness, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.  You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.  Only goodness and steadfast love shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall return to dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

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This has been one of the most comforting* psalms to me ever since I memorized it last spring.  But this time – this car ride – something was different.  He started showing me how to recognize these truths in my life,  in situations that commonly seem as burdens or hindrances.  He taught me to start claiming these circumstances for good, for truth, for His glory.  To say, “This is the Lord making me lie down in green pastures,” or “This is the Lord leading me in a path of righteousness – for His name’s sake,” or “This is me walking in the Valley of Deep Darkness and the Lord walking with me, so I can fear no evil.”  He showed me that this new branch of life – moving and teaching in Temple – is good.  This is the Lord being my shepherd.  He moves me where He knows I need to be.  I shall not want; He provides all I need. Selah.

I can rest in this truth.  This time in this unknown city will be ferociously beneficial to my soul.  I will not have to choose, to be torn between decisions of how to spend my time.  He has moved me into a city where I don’t know a single person and chosen the decision for me.  In those clear moments when I see this reality, my soul rushes wildly in me, splashing refreshingly onto the breakers of my heart.

Or I should rather testify, “This is the Lord restoring my soul.”

I’m excited!

———————–

*and here I mean comfort as in the oldest sense of the word – to strengthen, support, and encourage

And as I was pondering this, He showed me how He speaks this into our lives now, as well – we have only to embrace the grace that comes through Jesus. Our God screams out, “You’re GOOD!” not only over our adopted spirits, but also into out shortcomings, mistakes, and sins. Now I’m not saying that He thinks those imperfections are good by definition, but rather that He makes all those things good. He makes all things good for Himself. He promises all things will work together for our well-being and ultimately for the praise of His glorious grace.  Our hope is great!  How holy and blessed and sovereign is our Father!

—-

*I purchased this a few months ago after reading Andrew Peterson’s review.  It’s veraciously fanciful and I enjoy every minute I read… and I’m not even a kid.

The Lord was doing some seriously crazy, completely divine, and seemingly tortuous stuff to and through Ezekiel – His prophet – (all the while Ezekiel being righteously obedient) and all so that the wholly contumacious Israelites and blindly oblivious surrounding nations would know that He is the Lord.  The whole book concludes with our God proclaiming that there will be a new city with a river flowing from the temple, bringing life to the nations.  And the name of this new city, the one that gives equal access to all of His people:  ”Yĕhovah shammah” – “The Lord Is There“.

Our God is good.  He always works everything for good – for His glory and the good of His people.   Let us intrepidly declare His praise together.