Engagement

We live in a world that has mastered the art of being completely absorbed into whatever device of connectivity while walking without allowing the distraction to run us into a wall, or fire hydrant or more than likely, another pedestrian that has too mastered this disconnected multi-tasking. This world spends thousands of dollars each year on devices to supposedly keep us connected to each other, yet we neglect to schedule time for a family dinner or spend a couple of hundred dollars on a plane ticket or gas money to go visit a beloved friend or family member unless they are on their death beds.

We live in a world that walks through life with heads bowed, not because we are shamed, but because we want to get from Point A to Point B as quickly as possible with minimal distractions. We live in a world that has Caller ID, which is less to inform us as to who is calling and more to  prevent us from wasting our time with anyone whom isn't worthy. We live in a world where marriages are created online because we are too consumed with ourselves to take a couple hours and meet someone in person that may not pan out as our version of "The One". 

We live in a world that lacks engagement. I don't mean the engagement where a lovely young gentleman bends to one knee while bestowing an expensive diamond set in only the finest of golds for the one that he loves, I mean the engagement that spends that much thought and effort on living every day life intentionally with everyone they come in contact with-not merely the love of their lives. 

I have one student of mine that has begun to haunt my heart on a nightly basis. I can't go an afternoon without her face, her giggle or her lost eyes popping into my consciousness. She reminds me a lot of myself at her age-the tough, lonely age of seventh grade. I've been haunted as to what the difference is between the two of us: How have I ended up me, when at this rate, she is going to end up as far from me as she can. I've been hurt with thinking of God finding intentionally choosing a different path for myself while he simply looks the other way each morning as she drags herself to school. I simply couldn't let myself allow that to be the difference between the two of us because I know (and have discussed in previous blogs) that the ache in the depth of my heart for her is not even close her Father's who daily extends His hand to her only to have it pushed away or hid by so many things in her life.

I've concluded that the difference lies with engagement. Not the engagement held in God's hand because He extends the sparkling diamond set in gold to her on a daily basis just as He did to me even when I refused to acknowledge His offering and bent knee. The engagement held in the hands of everyone else. The engagements that prove to be false as they leave her alone at the very altar where someone held me in their arms. The engagements who bruise and steal her innocence where someone extended a hand to help me up. The engagements that leave her alone with the lies that seek to kill and destroy where the promise of hope and life was spoken to me. 

Engagement doesn't solely come from God, though He is the groom that we should seek to emulate. We each have the daily choice to intentionally engage others. We have the hourly opportunity to bow to one knee, holding the other person's needs above our own for just a minute to really listen, voicing the love and truth that we seen in their hearts and eyes, begging them to enter a bigger adventure alongside ourselves...hand in hand. The second we accepted the ring that Christ held out for us, we signed the license to sacrifice for others, to listen and to love...to live with a fierce and whimsical intentionally that joins multiple people not only for a life of better and worse, sickness and health, good and bad here on Earth, but lifetimes of healing and undistracted joy in Heaven.

We live in a world where it is socially acceptable and even encouraged to blockade ourselves from anyone who many require more than a few seconds of our time without offering us immediate rewards, yet look where that mindset, that lack of engagement has placed us. We live in a world where the heads bowed hide tears and pain; where the headphones blare lyrics to block out the screams, lies and bruises; where the fancy suits and shiny shoes simply hide the insecurities, fear and dreams. 

We live in a world that is begging for someone to bump into us, to tear away the headphones and to look past the flashy clothing. We live in a world begging for engagement.

Fiercly,
Danni

Pray it Never gets Easy.

Has your heart ever just completely sank for the world only to realize that if your human, fallible, incomplete heart hurts that much that you can not even begin to fathom how deep God, the Creator and Father's pain goes?

I am beginning my third week in the classroom and I never could have imagined how tough it would be to look into the eyes of some of my students each day-to know of the pain that is inflicted as the walk out into the world, or the depression that weighs on them within my walls. I have been a youth leader for several years now and have worked with students with eating disorders, depression, abuse aftermath, suicide attempts, self-inflicted scars-it never gets easier to see young people dealing with these things (or at least, it is my deepest prayer that it never gets easy)-but I expected my experience ease the impact a bit in the chance that I ever had to see any of these things within my students. False.

My students have been working on writing their autobiography: they were asked to think of any combination of three events or people that have impacted their very being, shaping their personality. After much thought and deliberation by many students, I was constantly bombarded with questions like:
            "Miss B., are we going to be presenting these?"
           "Miss Blackburn, who all is going to be reading these papers?"
           "Can we write about whatever we want, Miss B.?"
           "Mrs. Blackburn (no matter how many times I tell them I'm not married,it still happens)-
            is anyone other than you going to look at these papers?"

After plenty of reassuring them that I am the only person going to be looking at these papers unless I feel the need to get someone else involved, and urging them to not confess to any crimes in their autobiographies, the students have begun pouring out their hearts and fears on their papers (some more legible than others). I spend most of class time walking around pointing the talkers back on track or pushing the chair-tippers forwards, but when I get the chance to stop and read over someone's shoulder, I am frequently left speechless. I pray that it never gets easy.

The first week of school, I remember telling a friend that I preferred a school that had more "issues" and less "perfect children" than my corporation appeared. One would think that with my own coming from a school full of suicides and drug overdoses, cutting and hidden sexual harassment, I would have been more open-minded to the truth that no school is full of "perfect children"-no matter what its demographics.  Golly, how much more wrong could I have been.  

As I look over their shoulders, I am witness to an outpouring of stories centered around incarceration, death, cuts and scars, suicide attempts, depression, domestic violence and abandonment.  As I look around the room, into their giggles, smiles and incessant chatter, I can't believe the lives they have lived before entering my room. My heart returns home heavy after another day of learning more of the truth behind the attitudes and defiance. I pray it never gets easy.

I am saddened for this coming generation: one that few will not be exposed to violence and depression, one who body is often displayed for all to see, one who watches their celebrity idols die, be sent to rehab and dance like nobody should at the VMAs (but that is a different topic ;)) Today was different though-for the first time my mind wandered to the Creator of this generation and the pain He must endure each day as He watches us be slumped with reality. I can not even fathom the amount of love He holds in His heart for each of us, how great the desire to hold these hurting children in His arms and how hard it is for Him to let us be. I am grateful that He is there to comfort each of my students in their time of desperation and am left speechless at His desire to use me. 

Tonight, I will say a prayer, Thanking the Father of the Fatherless for His part, Begging Him to wrap my seventh graders in His arms, and lastly, I will Pray that it never gets easy to see their stories and to hear their grief.  

Summer of Provision

God's provision has never been more evident to be than it was this summer. I think God knew just how much I needed Him to make himself visible this summer and to steer me through all of the obstacles because, man, I was in over my head. Let's just take a look:

1.) R.I.P Silver Stallion: My best friend from Colorado was in Ohio because of family for a few months. Since we don't get to see each other too often, we try to jump on every opportunity we have.  I was planning on driving to see her two days before she was officially leaving: It was going to be a quick trip and since it was summer, weather wasn't an issue. I packed up and left, only to have my car lock up about twenty minutes outside of Huntington. My parents thought it was the power steering and that I just needed fluid so I used my muscles to get the rest of the way to Huntington. The further I drove, the more my car slowed and the harder it was to drive-I would pull over and let it rest and it would go for a bit and then stop again. I managed to turn into AutoZone (right next to the University so I was on familiar territory). Turns out it wasn't the power steering....the engine just literally died on me. 

Wondering how my car dying, thus preventing me from seeing my best friend before she moved across the country proves God's presence? Well, I was blessed with great friends that lent me their vehicles when I needed a car. As God would have it, after much prayer and budgeting-not to mention the work of my father calling every car ad around-my uncle's car dealership happened to get in a car that they usually wouldn't buy. It was in great condition with minimal miles and the dealership hoped to make a lot off of it after buying it cheap. He cut us a deal and soon I had a car. God Provides. 

2.) There's more than Corn in Indiana:It was June and after applying for any available job in the surrounding towns for the summer, I had absolutely no leads. (Granted, this did come in handy when my car died because I had no way to get to work) I finally broke down my pride and posted online that I needed help. I needed money to get a car and a car to get a job and I desperately needed money. A flood of friends began offering their cars to me if I needed them and even more unexpected was the person who offered me a job. We had gone to pre-school, middle school and high school together as well as different 4-H events, yet I could have probably counted on one hand the number of unnecessary interactions that we had had in all of those years. She popped up on my Facebook saying that she needed help at the Indiana Beach Campgrounds with activities this summer and that she could get me a job if I applied (I hadn't even gotten my application completed before she was informing me as to when training started). 

I went to training and concluded this was going to be the perfect job. There was a lot of down time that I could spend reading, applying for jobs and preparing for the school year and the rest of the time was spent doing activities with campers. I was basically a well-paid camp counselor (only I rarely actually did work) It was perfect! God Provides!

About a month later, Kroger called me saying that I could have my old summer job at the gas station back and after talking with the manager, I signed on to work the late night shift as a cashier. They knew that I was only going to be working about a  month and yet, they hired me! God provides in abundance!

3.) Driving Miss Danni: As I said, I was blessed with amazing friends who offered up their vehicles when I needed to drive, and a mother who works at home, thus rarely needed her van. This was great and I don't want to undercut my appreciation for all of these people; however, I was still hoping to be getting a big-girl job in a month or two and needed a car, yet still had barely any money (the product of working a volunteer job for 3-years while in college). My dad was searching every add and looking at any number of cars every night after work in order to find something, yet we were still having no luck. He stopped in at my uncles car dealership one night just to see if by any chance they had something within my price range (which was a big gamble because they would rarely have something within my range). To his surprise, they had just gotten in a vehicle that they only bought because they figured they could make a large profit off of. Uncle Rick worked it out so that they were barely making anything off of it and expedited the buying process. Dad and I dropped by to take it on a test drive for a weekend and I loved it. We went it the next business day and the car was mine! God provides!

4.) Becoming Miss B.:  This was probably the most frustrating part of the entire process. Before the school year had even ended, I began applying for teaching jobs everywhere in Indiana (I had no preference where I ended up as long as it was close enough to still be a Big Sister and was teaching middle school) I eventually broadened my area to include Ohio and Kentucky and parts of Michigan. I was thrilled with right off the bat, I received an interview and even more bummed to learn that they had to fill the position before I was able to make a trip down there (literally like 2 days later). Nearly 50 applications later (not an exaggeration) and beginning of July, I hadn't heard anything from anyone else...not even an interview. It seemed as though everyone that I had graduated with was being called for all sorts of interviews and being offered multiple jobs, when I still had nothing. I was breaking down, praying for God's direction and provision. 

I happened to be home one day when I got a call from a number I didn't recognize. I, of course, let it go to voicemail, and then was elated when it was the Principal of Indian Springs Middle School in Columbia City (about 20 minutes from HU where the majority of my friends still resided). I called right back and set up an interview on my next day off. Mom ironed my suit and I prepared all of my materials, making sure I was leaving in order to be there about a half hour early just in case I got lost.  Not even ten minutes from my house, my NEW CAR made a popping sound and abruptly decided it didn't want to move anymore. I managed to get it off to the side of the road as gas fumes quickly overtook the car. I flashed back to gas station training and old Oprah episodes about cars exploding because of cell phone waves and how you shouldn't get out of the car unless fire happens so that I wouldn't let a spark off of my body ignite the car. Panicked, I called my mom and begged her to find someone quick to watch the babysitting kids while she brought me the van. I then called the school corporation in tears saying that my new car broke down and despite the fact that I was running early, I would probably be late when the sweetest lady on the other side said to breathe, calm down and not to worry just to get there when I could. Mom came with one of the babysitting kids' dads who just happened to be a mechanic: He concluded that my gas line popped off and that I was lucky because the car could have certainly exploded. I jumped in the van and through my sobbing, began the drive yet again to Columbia City following the GPS. Conviently, the GPS led me to the middle of a corn field, leaving me to enter a local bank where only Ft. Wayne residents worked who were kind enough to find a woman who gave me directions to the school.

FINALLY, I pulled in, straightened my suit, still flustered by the mornings events and met the Principal (with being late, the assistant principal was unable to be there, I thought this would be an automatic no hire situation).  The interview went smoothly and about two weeks later, I accepted the position that I was sure I wouldn't get-a 7th Grade Writing position despite all of the hassle with the interview! God Provides Gracefully!

After a week in the position, and after attending my Huntington church yet again, as I sit on campus using the wifi that I no longer pay 32, 000 dollars for, I am confident in God's provision through each step getting me here this summer. God amazes me each day and I will forever remember the summer of my 22 year when everything seemed like it was going wrong-just when God turned everything around! 

Carried.

I drive to student teaching each morning, each morning I'm far too tired to pay a whole lot of attention to the world around me, but each morning I see this father carry his son down the stairs of their front porch to place him in a wheel chair already at the sidewalk. Some nights, when I am driving back to school at the right time, I see the same father pick his child up out of the wheel chair to carry him up the steps to the house. It touches my heart every time I witness this daily routine. 

I am sure the family would love a ramp, because this child is at least a middle school student, so he's not the lightest of fellows to be carried each day. The current living situation is clearly not the best. 

Today, as I was driving, it was sprinkling rain and cold and the father was moving the wheelchair out onto the sidewalk so he could go to the house to fetch his boy. As I was driving, a message became vivid to me. God simply said, "I am the father and you are the child, I carry you each day". I began to tear up as this reality hit me. I am not in the ideal situation, God would love me to be with Him right now in the perfect world that He created, but I can't be. So instead, He lovingly carries me through the inconvenience of a sinful world each day. It doesn't matter if it is sunny or if He needs an umbrella to shield me from the rain. 

He carries me. He carries you. Each day.  

Fed up with the Church.

I am a follower of Christ; I have been a leader in Christian organizations for many years.  However, I will be the first to admit that I am fed up with the Western Church. I feel as though the western church is too busy making everyone feel accepted and wanted that they are straying from the message and the standard that we are supposed to spread. The church is too concerned with being politically correct and not causing offense towards any sin, person or sect of people...and it appalls me.

You could argue that we are called to love everyone, but I think people miss the rest of the verse. We are called to love others as Christ loved us. So let's examine different ways that Christ loved people. 

In Matthew 21, Jesus approached the temple only to see that people had created a market of the temple. When seeing this, Jesus threw tables and reprimanded the people for making the temple a hangout for thieves. Now I don't see Jesus saying this in a calm, normal preaching voice; I hear him with a raised voice, a voice that shows that he is frustrated. The kind of voice that you hear from your parents when they are correcting you. In these moments, you know your parents mean business, but you still now they love you.

In John 4, Jesus went to the well and met a Samaritan woman. This woman had been living what we would call a questionable lifestyle. Jesus didn't just wrap her in his arms and invite her home, he told her how her ways love life weren't up to the standard of God. He used a loving voice and didn't call her a tramp or anything like that that the rest of the world was calling her....He corrected her with love.

In John 9, Jesus heals a man that was born blind. He doesn't just wipe his hand over this mans eyes, he make him walk down to wash in the nearby pond. Jesus could have catered to his needs right then to give him what he wanted, however, Jesus told the man to move in order to heal himself. The blind man still had to work for it.

In Matthew 26, during the Last Supper, Jesus tells Peter that he is going to deny his belief in God three times. Jesus doesn't seem to scorn his friend for this, he simply accepts reality. He is simply pointing out what Peter is going to do and telling him that regardless, he is going to love him. Still on Peter, during the feet washing, Peter tries to refuse to have his feet washed and Jesus points out his need for his feet to be washed.

The church is overly concerned with making people feel loved and tip toeing around a world filled with sin-thus creating a world of sinners who are unaware of their sin or need for salvation. We think we are doing a service to our brothers and sisters, but in reality, we are hiding salvation and heaven from them. We are hiding the grace and love of a God that loves despite our mistakes. We are hiding a community of broken yet redeemed people from them. 

The church is so worried about not causing a ruckus or offending people, when in all reality, Jesus did that exact thing. He turned over tables in the temple, he lived in such a way that was against the norm, he took the death punishment, he hung out with the dirty and diseased. He caused a ruckus everywhere he went! He wasn't worried about making people feel comfortable, He mastered the art of tough love...of showing love through correction and pointing out flaws. He accepted and loved the sinner while denouncing the sinful lifestyle. 

The church needs to stop living in fear of the people of this world and accept the standards of living that Jesus lived by. Yes, we are called to love, but loving doesn't mean letting our brothers and sisters wander around without knowing their sin. We are called to live how Jesus loved us. 

 

Pretty People Phobia

This could be taken as a huge insult to the people who I consider my good friends, but please don't take it like that...just understand that my thought processes are beautifully flawed.

Ever since I can remember, I have been afraid of pretty people. (I know, bring on the comments) I guess I just don't mean pretty as in attractive people, but also preppy...you know those popular girls who seem to have it all together-the Prom Queen and Homecoming Queen and you know, the girls who win EVERYTHING. These girls have the fashionable clothes, they don't seem to know what a pimple is and have talents out the wazoo. On top of all of this, they have smarts. These are the pretty girls I am talking about. (yes, some of my friends do have all of these qualities, but that doesn't mean I don't fear them)

This sounds like something you would grow out of once you exited the halls of high school right? False. I am currently student teaching in 8th grade and this still comes into effect in my daily interactions with students. If the girls who meet the above criteria are talking quietly, my mind automatically jumps to them talking about me. (I don't take into consideration that they could be talking about anything, especially things that they want to keep quiet from me since I am the teacher.) I try to dress to their standards and am so worried about something being in my teeth after lunch or about my make-up wearing off by the end of the day. I still have a desperate desire to be liked and accepted by these pretty girls....even though they are 8 years younger than myself.

Why am I like this? Why do I care about what a group of 8th grade girls think of me? The need for acceptance and value runs so deep in my blood that I work myself up over middle school students. I was never considered one of the popular kids or probably even one of the absolute pretty kids and that identification is scarred into my thoughts. I have never been nominated for any form of royalty or award by my peers (short of "most likely to become a nun" by the Senior class) I have always just been.

Living on a floor of 26 beautiful women, especially in a leadership role, is a challenge. I strive for their approval. I sometimes even limit my plans in order to not step on the "pretty girls'" toes. I get nervous when I see certain girls walking towards me in the hallway even though I have known some of them for four years. Do I smile at them? Do I just look at the floor and keep walking? What if I say something stupid? I want to be "cool".

I give tours to prospective families and host students. I am totally comfortable in this role 99.9% of the time...until I get a "pretty family". I stumble over my words, I forget facts about the campus, I sit on my bed afraid to make a fool out of myself. I desire the acceptance of even complete strangers. 

You probably think that I had some kind of terrible experience with the "pretty people" of school, right? False. I was never up to the standards of popular, but nearly everyone knew me. I was never bullied by "pretty people". I never had any kind of tramatazing experience...I just simply desire acceptance. 

I will admit, I have probably lost out on friendships because of this fear. I have missed out on clubs and other opportunities. The "pretty people" never secluded me...but I secluded myself from different things because of my drive for acceptance. (isn't that like some kind of oxymoron?!) 

Worth and acceptance are two things that drive society. Why? Why do we care so much about what other people think of us? Why do we panic so much about being cool, that we end up acting even dumber?  

I don't have all of the answers. I really don't even think I have any of the answers, but I know this problem runs through my veins and that is the first step, right? 
 

Regeneration.

I love to write. I used to dream about one day becoming a published author, and quite frankly still do. Writing is my catharsis: It helps me put my thoughts in place and balance my emotions. All of that being said, why is writing often the last thing on my list of things to do? Why I have recently began to avoid writing at all cost? 

I am graduating college in less than two months. This is one of the most stressful times of my life in which I could greatly use some catharsis, yet I deliberately choose against it. Could it be that in this time, I don't want to figure myself out? Would I honestly rather wallow in the uncertainty and chaos that is currently my life...yes, yes I would. 

Why is this? Why would I rather be living in frantic chaos instead of taking steps to figure out my life? I am refusing to accept that this part of my life is over. I am refusing to accept that I need to pay more attention to certain areas of my health. I am refusing to accept. Writing causes me to process. Writing causes me to usually come to some form of understanding and other times, it leaves me in a state of confusion. I would rather remain trapped in this stage because it is comfortable than move to an area of better understanding. 

This is the way that I have been living, in short. I am refusing to remain in my pity puddle and to begin to crawl my way out. I love blogging...I love the community and the accountability that it creates. I am going to attempt to keep this up once a week. To chart the understanding and journey as a soon to be graduate with so many possibilities in front of her.

Challenge Accepted.