Before I get too far in this post let me warn you that it may be a bit sappier than most. Maternal instincts are in full effect...approach with caution.
Tonight, for the first time I held a newborn baby. JW and AW were blessed with a son, we'll call him T, at exactly 5:54 this morning. As he reached the 12th hour of his life AVH and I took the opprotunity to meet him.
I will tell you now, that for the past few years I have had in my mind that kids weren't for me. If anything I'd rather be the aunt who can sugar them up and give them back at the end of the day. (Don't get me wrong, I still plan on doing that...you're welcome in advance Sister and Brother-in-law.) But as I held little T those feelings changed.
I'm not sure exactly what but those negative feelings about having kids of my own seemed to turn. I suddenly realized how amazing it can be to have kids. Maybe it was hearing stories about the support system JW and AW had in the delivery room. Maybe it was seeing the way his parents interacted with him. Maybe it's because I've been thinking a lot about my family and home lately. Or maybe it was just holding him, who knows really. Sometimes reasons are unnecessary.
All I know for sure is that someday I want to be a mom.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Clams
I'm a teacher.
Though a simple title, I've come to find that there are millions of pieces that help make up the puzzle of an educator.
One of those (at least of what I've experienced) includes being a counselor.
Growing up I was blessed to have parents who I could confide in. Parents who I could talk about anything and everything with. A gift from God that I never truly appreciated until I started teaching kids who don't have that.
This past week I met with one of my students and her mom. It was a make-up parent teacher conference. I took a copy of the student's report card out of her file and laid it infront of both of them. With pursed lips her mother scanned the report card, I could see the wheels begin to turn and her eyes narrowed behind her red framed glasses. There is a section on the report cards that has to do with character and attitude. Surprisingly I found that a lot of the parents care more about that section over the actual grades. This mother was no acception. In the box next to "respects authority" I had placed an "N" (meaning that the student needs improvement in that area). Her lips began to tighten and she shot a stare an her daughter, said something sternly in their native tongue, and began talking calmly with me.
Aparently this was something that had been going on the year prior as well. As we discussed I saw the rims of my student's eyes turn red and tears begin to well up.
Now, after years of working with kids (and I know I've said this before) crocodile tears don't phase me. But these were different. Yes perhaps she was upset because she got in trouble with her mom, but the look she gave me made my heart hurt. It was like she was terrified of what was going to happen. I tried to talk with my pupil but she sat frozen. Her mom openly (and almost proudly) told me that her daughter was afraid of her and probably wouldn't say much. Those words stung as they entered my ear canals. This student was comfortable telling me anything, but was clam-like when it came to saying anything around her mom. I had a similiar experience when I talked with another student and his dad.
Why is that I wonder, perhaps it's a cultural thing.
What I do know is that being a teacher holds a lot of responsibility, many of which is emotional. Not only of yourself but the students as well. I think what the best thing a teacher can do is to listen. No matter what the circumstance, just be an ear. Your patience and willingness to let the student speak may go farther than you imagine. Even when it can, at times, be difficult.
Matthew 19:14 states "Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.'"
As a teacher, let them come to you and let them speak.
Though a simple title, I've come to find that there are millions of pieces that help make up the puzzle of an educator.
One of those (at least of what I've experienced) includes being a counselor.
Growing up I was blessed to have parents who I could confide in. Parents who I could talk about anything and everything with. A gift from God that I never truly appreciated until I started teaching kids who don't have that.
This past week I met with one of my students and her mom. It was a make-up parent teacher conference. I took a copy of the student's report card out of her file and laid it infront of both of them. With pursed lips her mother scanned the report card, I could see the wheels begin to turn and her eyes narrowed behind her red framed glasses. There is a section on the report cards that has to do with character and attitude. Surprisingly I found that a lot of the parents care more about that section over the actual grades. This mother was no acception. In the box next to "respects authority" I had placed an "N" (meaning that the student needs improvement in that area). Her lips began to tighten and she shot a stare an her daughter, said something sternly in their native tongue, and began talking calmly with me.
Aparently this was something that had been going on the year prior as well. As we discussed I saw the rims of my student's eyes turn red and tears begin to well up.
Now, after years of working with kids (and I know I've said this before) crocodile tears don't phase me. But these were different. Yes perhaps she was upset because she got in trouble with her mom, but the look she gave me made my heart hurt. It was like she was terrified of what was going to happen. I tried to talk with my pupil but she sat frozen. Her mom openly (and almost proudly) told me that her daughter was afraid of her and probably wouldn't say much. Those words stung as they entered my ear canals. This student was comfortable telling me anything, but was clam-like when it came to saying anything around her mom. I had a similiar experience when I talked with another student and his dad.
Why is that I wonder, perhaps it's a cultural thing.
What I do know is that being a teacher holds a lot of responsibility, many of which is emotional. Not only of yourself but the students as well. I think what the best thing a teacher can do is to listen. No matter what the circumstance, just be an ear. Your patience and willingness to let the student speak may go farther than you imagine. Even when it can, at times, be difficult.
Matthew 19:14 states "Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.'"
As a teacher, let them come to you and let them speak.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
The Best Thing
We've all had situations that have upset us.
Something breaks.
Chronic illness attacks a family member
Relationships don't go as planned.
Anything really.
I was watching a vlog by a man named Matthew Hussey, I think he's a motivational speaker or something. I don't know. But in one of his vlogs he was talking about bad situations and how people tend to play the part of the victim.
I will admit I've done this, I'm sure we all have at one point or another.
But there was one specific thing he said as he jabbered on in his British accent. He said "Ask yourself, how is this the best thing that could happen?"
The best thing that could happen.
The best thing
that
could
happen.
Now that's just an attitude changer isn't it?
In the book of James (a personal favorite of mine) there is a passage that goes like this:
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." (James 1:2-4)
God is working on all of us, and will continue to mold and shape us until our time on Earth is through. I wonder what would happen if we took the advice of both Mr. Hussey and James.
Perhaps, instead of taking unfavorable circumstances as an attack, we could ask ourselves, how is this the best thing that God has done for me?
Something breaks.
Chronic illness attacks a family member
Relationships don't go as planned.
Anything really.
I was watching a vlog by a man named Matthew Hussey, I think he's a motivational speaker or something. I don't know. But in one of his vlogs he was talking about bad situations and how people tend to play the part of the victim.
I will admit I've done this, I'm sure we all have at one point or another.
But there was one specific thing he said as he jabbered on in his British accent. He said "Ask yourself, how is this the best thing that could happen?"
The best thing that could happen.
The best thing
that
could
happen.
Now that's just an attitude changer isn't it?
In the book of James (a personal favorite of mine) there is a passage that goes like this:
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." (James 1:2-4)
God is working on all of us, and will continue to mold and shape us until our time on Earth is through. I wonder what would happen if we took the advice of both Mr. Hussey and James.
Perhaps, instead of taking unfavorable circumstances as an attack, we could ask ourselves, how is this the best thing that God has done for me?
You've Got Scripture!
"Give justice to the poor and the orphan; uphold the rights of the oppressed and the destitute. Rescue the poor and the helpless; deliver them from evil people."-Psalm 82:3-4
This verse has been on my heart for the past month or so, I think God's trying to tell me something.
Now how do I do this....?
This verse has been on my heart for the past month or so, I think God's trying to tell me something.
Now how do I do this....?
Saturday, October 6, 2012
A Light in the Dark
So I really shouldn't be blogging right now. My sinuses are full with congestion, my eyes are drooping, and every part of me is screaming to go to sleep. Yet I couldn't help but be inspired to type out a few (hundred) words before I slowly slip off to dreamland.
Outside my apartment is a balcony. Said balcony leads to stairs, which leads to a parking lot. In the middle of said parking lot is a small grouping of trees. Tall they stand with branches drooping, swaying to and fro. Within said small grouping of trees live two birds. Not just any birds, no, said birds are doves. Pure, white doves. I caught sight of one as I walked up to my door. Through the night's darkness and the leaves there she was, almost glowing. She sat, perched up high, waiting for her mate to return. Each time I see her I can't help but smile.
A small sign of peace. Thanks God.
Outside my apartment is a balcony. Said balcony leads to stairs, which leads to a parking lot. In the middle of said parking lot is a small grouping of trees. Tall they stand with branches drooping, swaying to and fro. Within said small grouping of trees live two birds. Not just any birds, no, said birds are doves. Pure, white doves. I caught sight of one as I walked up to my door. Through the night's darkness and the leaves there she was, almost glowing. She sat, perched up high, waiting for her mate to return. Each time I see her I can't help but smile.
A small sign of peace. Thanks God.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Trouble in Paradise
There is a lot more that goes on between the worlds of heaven and hell than we might be aware of, or want to admit to. This week I had the disturbing pleasure of coming in contact with that of the latter.
I have a student (well technically I have 23) in my class. She is 20% servant hearted, 40% attitude, with another 40% full of drama. There are days where I just don't know what to do with her, but nothing could be comparable to that of this week.
Wednesday, morning recess, I come to gather my children to go inside for their next lesson. Two of my girls come running up to me. "Ms. Jameson, Student A scratched Student C!" I checked Student C's arm. Student A hadn't scratched Student C, no...she had pinched her so hard that the other student began to bleed. I will say this flat out, Student A lies, a lot. So I had to gather my witnesses and hear the full story. I had a talking to with Student A and things were fine momentarily.
Wednesday, afternoon recess, I come to, once again, gather my students to go inside for their next lesson. Once again two girls come running up to me. "Ms. Jameson, Student A scratched Student H!" My lips pursed and I could feel the heat of frustration build inside of me. After all, we had just discussed the same situation hours prior. Student H's arm had the same mark as Student C's. I took her aside, took a deep breath and showed her the arms of the two students. "What is going on with you? Do you see this? You have physically hurt two of my students. Why would you do this?" Answer: big I-got-caught-so-I'm-going-to-look-sad eyes and a shrug.
Something was off, she had been mean before, but nothing like this. We made our way to Principal's office. I explained both situations and he rewarded her with a very suitable punishment.
Thursday, 8:00am, all of my ducklings and I travel in a line to Music. Once we stopped in front of the music room and lined-up, Student K comes running up to me with tears streaming down his face and his right wrist craddled in his left arm. "Miss Jameson!" I must admit, some of his pleas have fallen on deaf ears. Not because I don't care, but because he is an avid tattle tale. This time was different, he looked in pain and truly scared. "Miss Jameson, Student A twisted my wrist really hard!" I gave her a piercing stare, called her over and brought them into the classroom.
Me: "Why is he crying?"
Student A: *shrug* "I don't know"
Student K: "Yes you do, you twisted my arm really hard for no reason!"
Me: "Why do you keep hurting my students?"
Student A: *shrug* "I don't know"
Me: "That's not good enough, I want a reason."
Student A: *shrug*
All three of us made our way to Principal's office once again. Student K gave his side and I had him return to Music. We closed the door and the intervention began. One thing that I've come to respect Principal for is that he can be calm and stern at the same time. He talked with Student A about what she had been doing and why she had been doing it. He also asked me if there was something else she had a problem with. I told him that she had told me the day before that she was afraid of something at home. Not someone, but something. She explained that she would see curtains shake but there would be nothing behind them and her cousin would just all of the sudden start shaking for no reason. She also told us about how her cousins would tell her terrible things to scare her. As her explaination continued she cried, hard and her breaths became shorter. With each word her sobs would become more and more extreme, causing her to have to gasp for air multiple times, it was scary. I have never seen someone cry like that before and hope to never see it again.
All I could think about was Satan and his demons working in her house and her family. He's alive and will do all he can to be a terror. Principal and I said the best way to make this stop is to ask God to help her and save her. He is the great protector. We told her how much we care about her and love her and that we would be praying for her. She took a deep breath and walked out of the office. Principal and I sat for a second.
Principal: "There is a lot of that on the Island you know."
Me: "Spiritual warfare?"
Principal: "Yeah, it's real and it's everywhere."
I've asked this before, but I'll ask it again, please pray for the island and its people...it needs it so much more than you could know.
I have a student (well technically I have 23) in my class. She is 20% servant hearted, 40% attitude, with another 40% full of drama. There are days where I just don't know what to do with her, but nothing could be comparable to that of this week.
Wednesday, morning recess, I come to gather my children to go inside for their next lesson. Two of my girls come running up to me. "Ms. Jameson, Student A scratched Student C!" I checked Student C's arm. Student A hadn't scratched Student C, no...she had pinched her so hard that the other student began to bleed. I will say this flat out, Student A lies, a lot. So I had to gather my witnesses and hear the full story. I had a talking to with Student A and things were fine momentarily.
Wednesday, afternoon recess, I come to, once again, gather my students to go inside for their next lesson. Once again two girls come running up to me. "Ms. Jameson, Student A scratched Student H!" My lips pursed and I could feel the heat of frustration build inside of me. After all, we had just discussed the same situation hours prior. Student H's arm had the same mark as Student C's. I took her aside, took a deep breath and showed her the arms of the two students. "What is going on with you? Do you see this? You have physically hurt two of my students. Why would you do this?" Answer: big I-got-caught-so-I'm-going-to-look-sad eyes and a shrug.
Something was off, she had been mean before, but nothing like this. We made our way to Principal's office. I explained both situations and he rewarded her with a very suitable punishment.
Thursday, 8:00am, all of my ducklings and I travel in a line to Music. Once we stopped in front of the music room and lined-up, Student K comes running up to me with tears streaming down his face and his right wrist craddled in his left arm. "Miss Jameson!" I must admit, some of his pleas have fallen on deaf ears. Not because I don't care, but because he is an avid tattle tale. This time was different, he looked in pain and truly scared. "Miss Jameson, Student A twisted my wrist really hard!" I gave her a piercing stare, called her over and brought them into the classroom.
Me: "Why is he crying?"
Student A: *shrug* "I don't know"
Student K: "Yes you do, you twisted my arm really hard for no reason!"
Me: "Why do you keep hurting my students?"
Student A: *shrug* "I don't know"
Me: "That's not good enough, I want a reason."
Student A: *shrug*
All three of us made our way to Principal's office once again. Student K gave his side and I had him return to Music. We closed the door and the intervention began. One thing that I've come to respect Principal for is that he can be calm and stern at the same time. He talked with Student A about what she had been doing and why she had been doing it. He also asked me if there was something else she had a problem with. I told him that she had told me the day before that she was afraid of something at home. Not someone, but something. She explained that she would see curtains shake but there would be nothing behind them and her cousin would just all of the sudden start shaking for no reason. She also told us about how her cousins would tell her terrible things to scare her. As her explaination continued she cried, hard and her breaths became shorter. With each word her sobs would become more and more extreme, causing her to have to gasp for air multiple times, it was scary. I have never seen someone cry like that before and hope to never see it again.
All I could think about was Satan and his demons working in her house and her family. He's alive and will do all he can to be a terror. Principal and I said the best way to make this stop is to ask God to help her and save her. He is the great protector. We told her how much we care about her and love her and that we would be praying for her. She took a deep breath and walked out of the office. Principal and I sat for a second.
Principal: "There is a lot of that on the Island you know."
Me: "Spiritual warfare?"
Principal: "Yeah, it's real and it's everywhere."
I've asked this before, but I'll ask it again, please pray for the island and its people...it needs it so much more than you could know.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Island Mist
It rained this evening. Actually, it's been raining almost every evening since I got here, but I can do anything but complain.
I love rain. I think I've grown to love it even more since I've been living here. Do I get tired of it? Yes, but who doesn't get tired of the same type of weather over and over again?
Island rain is different.
As I was sitting on my couch I heard a shower of water droplets begin to dance on the top of my apartment's tin roof. Outside I rushed. A much welcomed breeze kissed my clamy face as I felt the mist of the evening rain. Down it came, a wall of precipitation. I stood on my balcony and watched. Rain has always given me a feeling of comfort. I'm not sure why, but it always makes me happy. Harder it poured and I stretched out my arms. Water beaded up and cooled my skin as it entered every pore on my forearm. I took a deep breath and a familiar smell of freshness filled my senses.
Like home.
I love rain. I think I've grown to love it even more since I've been living here. Do I get tired of it? Yes, but who doesn't get tired of the same type of weather over and over again?
Island rain is different.
As I was sitting on my couch I heard a shower of water droplets begin to dance on the top of my apartment's tin roof. Outside I rushed. A much welcomed breeze kissed my clamy face as I felt the mist of the evening rain. Down it came, a wall of precipitation. I stood on my balcony and watched. Rain has always given me a feeling of comfort. I'm not sure why, but it always makes me happy. Harder it poured and I stretched out my arms. Water beaded up and cooled my skin as it entered every pore on my forearm. I took a deep breath and a familiar smell of freshness filled my senses.
Like home.
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