rethinking balance.

Libra - The Scales

There's a very small percentage of me that buys into astrology. However, in the spirit of my birthday being next week, I did a little research about my astrological sign. I'll be honest, I was also bored in class and had exhausted both Pinterest and my bookmarked blogs. What else is a girl to do besides research astrology? My research came up with less than promising results. Apparently, libras are outgoing and charming and the peacemakers of the zodiac, along with a whole host of other general characteristics. While I think these things are true of myself, I know a decent number of people who embody those characteristics but aren't libras, which is why I don't buy into astrology.

However, the symbol of being a Libra is the scales, representing a desire to live in harmony, balance, and symmetry. That, I think is true. I'll go with that. I think it's fitting, especially considering the words I've been praying over for this school year. One of the main words I've been desiring is balance. 


Through conversations with friends in the past month, I've started rethinking balance. It's easy for me, I'm realizing, to look at balance as everything being equal. I can get so zone-focused on dividing my time and my energy into equal parts. Young Life should get the same amount of time as school. Friends should get the same attention as family. Running should happen as often as I do homework. Prayer should be equal with how much time I spend on Facebook. I want everything to be equal all the time. Equal time for friendships. Equal time for school. Equal time for fun. Equal time for reading. Isn't that what being balanced is? According to a quick Google search, it's an even distribution of something. An even distribution of time and energy? If I divide my day evenly between tasks, is it successful? If I check everything off of my to-do list and somehow attend to all of the things that need to happen, it's balanced? Even if I've only given a portion of the time and energy that they deserve?

Here's what I'm realizing and working through: that's not right. Something is wrong with the way I've been thinking about balance. Lots of things, actually. I've fallen way off track with how I've been praying for balance and how it's been lived out in my life so far this school year. And this isn't how I intended it to be, nor how I want it to stay.

I want to seek out balance in my life, first through God. Everything I've been given is a gift from Him, and I want to live like it is. I do not want to live my story thinking it's about me. When I think about balance in the way that I have been, it makes the story about me: what do I need to do, where does my energy need to be, how can I efficiently plow through everything all the time. But the story is not about me at all. It's all about Him. It's all for His glory. I want to hold tight to that and remind myself of it daily (sometimes hourly). I want my prayers to center on this: that my time, my energy, and my talents be used to bring Him glory. I feel like that's going to be the best way for me to find balance. If I'm seeking first His Kingdom and His glory, I think the balance part will fall into place, right?

Instead of using my energy to cross things off a to-do list and stress myself out about making everything perfectly equal, I want to use my energy to seek His balance for my life. I want to seek Him for how to distribute my time and energy, glorifying Him in the process, and ultimately, finding the best balance: a balance that He's chosen. A balance that may not consist of equal parts everything, but is much more real and much more God-centered. That sounds much better than the way I have been living.

This is obviously a train of thought that's still in progress. My thinking is continuing to evolve, and I want you to be a part of the journey with me. Because I don't have all the answers.

What do you think about balance? How do you find balance in your life? Does being balanced mean that everything has to be equal for it to be right?

good morning.

It's possible that I've listened to this song thirty-seven times since downloading it yesterday .... but only maybe.

Words for today: free, delivered, & thank you, thank you, thank you. 

Happy Wednesday! 

How will you celebrate today?

thanks for the reminder.

This weekend, my amazing roommate Kelly ran in the Chicago Marathon. Here's a little taste of what our Sunday looked like.

Who looks that cute after running 26.2 miles? Apparently, Kelly does. How she's still smiling, I'm not sure. Finishing a marathon is a freaking accomplishment in and of itself, but what's even crazier to me is that this girl ran 15 miles with a dislocated hip. And she's still smiling after. At mile 11, her hip came out of its socket, and she pushed through 15 miles of pain to finish the race. Seriously?! Who does that?! Being a part of Kelly's marathon experience has reminded me of a profound truth that I often lose sight of.

Everything is a gift. 

I talked to Kelly after she finished the race on Sunday, and I was moved to tears by her gratitude. Believe it or not, Kelly was thankful for every single thing that happened during the race. Thankful for the first 11 miles pain-free and thankful for the last 15 with a dislocated hip. She viewed that injury as a gift from God; as an opportunity to slow down, soak up the fans cheering, and savor the experience.

I've been crying a lot lately. If you've spent any stretch of time with me in the past week, you've probably witnessed it. It's been driving me a little nuts, because I'm not usually that girl. I usually hold back tears until I'm alone or with a close friend. I don't typically let my tears make appearances in public. But lately, just about anything will turn me into a misty-eyed mess, and I can't do anything to stop it. I cried at Leadership on Friday, and again on Saturday morning about the same topic. I cried multiple times watching Kelly on Sunday, and again talking to her later that night. I've cried reading blogs the past few days, and I almost cried driving down Ridge yesterday. For the better part of the past week, I haven't been able to figure out why so many things have moved me to tears.

Talking with Kelly finally helped me put words on it. Kelly reminded me that everything is a gift. Everything. Is. A. Gift. EVERYTHING. Just saying that out loud makes me want to fall to my knees in thankfulness. Everything we have is a gift from God. My abilities? Gift. My personality? Gift. My family? Gift. My friends? Gift. Sunshine? Gift. Trees changing? Gift. Ability to run? Gift. Injuries? Gift. Pain? Gift. If you've spent any amount of time reading Libby Ryder's blog, you'll know that she views her cancer as a gift. 

In so many different capacities over the past week, I've been reminded that everything is a gift. I think that's where the tears are coming from. This truth makes me want to fall to my knees in gratitude; humbled and full of thankfulness and praise for our God. Tugging at my heart strings, however, is this question. How will you use those gifts, Erin? What are you going to do with that information? I know that everything is a gift, but I don't want to just stop there. Everything is a gift, and the way we use those gifts should glorify God. The story I am living is not my own. It's not about me, and I don't want to live like it is. I want to live in the truth that everything I have - the good, the bad, and the ugly - is a gift from God, but I also want to recognize that those gifts should be used for His glory, not mine. 

Thanks for the reminder, Kelly. 

the red tree.

This post is entirely inspired by this book. I read it for the first time a year ago, and I'm in the middle of round two right now. I'm sort of always reading Cold Tangerines; going over my favorite passages like they're bedtime stories. If you haven't read it, you seriously should consider it.

In lieu of the fall weather settling in, I read through a chapter this week titled "The Red Tree." It's possible that there's a series of posts coming up about the significance of trees - about how their changing is so symbolic of life. About how that has affected my story and increased my affection toward the 'bers.

albion avenue - fall 2011

All I want to do today is share some of "The Red Tree." I have a strong affinity for the 'bers, and with that comes a deep desire to experience the depth and bredth of this season. "The Red Tree" helped me connect back to that this week.

The author opens the narrative discussing how, in the midst of this particular fall, she was busy and stressed. Long to-do lists, events to plan, and talks to write. She is caught off guard one morning heading out to the store.


"I stomped out the door, back into the car, still in my pajamas, and as I opened the garage door again, I stopped in my tracks. In the park across the street, one of the tallest trees, twice as high as a two-story house, was the brightest, most insane, lit-from-within red I have ever seen. And it took my breath away, for two reasons. 


First, because it was so beyond beautiful, and second, because I had not noticed one step of its turning. I had been in and out of my driveway a zillion times in the last two weeks and could not have told you if the tree was even still standing or not. As I stood there in the driveway, I realized that I had stopped seeing the most important things to see. 


I wasn't seeing the people or the celebrations. I wasn't seeing anything beyond the chaos of my life and my home and my calendar. We were hosting a baby shower, and I saw the shopping list and the favor ideas and the bookcases to be dusted, but underneath all those things, waiting for me like the red tree, was the real sight to behold. Waiting under the things to do was a story to be told."

She continues a little later in the chapter:

"It looked like a full calendar, a whirl of events and to-do lists and grocery lists. But underneath it all, the month was a greatest hits album, a collection of stories, one after another, of the rich and gorgeous was that God tells His stories through our lives. What looked like a shower or a dinner or one more night to clean up after [or one more project or one more coffee date or one more early-morning wake up] was actually one of God's best gifts, worth celebrating, worth seeing. What looks like a plain old city street is just that until you lift up your eyes and see the red tree, and then you realize that this is no plain city street. This is a masterpiece just here for the week, our very own wonder of the world, and I just about missed it." 

I don't know where your heart is, but this passage struck me this week. I don't want to be so caught up in the myriad of things to do or the busyness of life as a college student that I miss the gifts God's given me right now in this week and this day. I don't want to wake up one day and realized I've missed this season because I was too zone-focused on checking things off my to-do list. I don't want to miss the story that God's telling through the people and experiences around me. I want to see and experience and explore the masterpiece of the present. Be it people or places or little moments of everyday life - I don't want to miss any of this season.

 apple picking 2011 

What about you? What's your red tree? What have you been looking at, but not really seeing? What have you been missing in this season? 

these days.

I have a running list of things I'd like to blog about in the coming weeks, including my excitement about the trees changing and why I want to celebrate every single day in the month of October and why I'm rethinking balance. I haven't been able to write anything, because these days, I have a heavy heart. 


My heart has been weighed down by the grave reality of what it means to teach in urban schools. With each passing day at my school site, I am smacked in the face with the reality of my students. They live in the reality of poverty and gang-crossfire. They live in survival mode with empty stomachs.

Going into this experience, I knew there was a high percentage of students living in poverty, but until I heard students complain of having nothing to eat, I didn't get it. I knew about gang violence at my school, but until I saw a gang fight and realized that my students' lives are in danger, I didn't get it. I knew there was an issue with drugs, but until I saw a drug deal during passing period, I didn't get it. I knew ACT scores were well below the CPS average, but until I worked with a student who has a fourth grade reading level, I didn't get it. 


There's one question I continually come back to. I keep asking myself 'why?' Why? Just why? Why did I get born into an affluent, supportive family? Why didn't my students? Why do they face horrible life situations? Why do I get to go home after school and they don't? Why is this their reality? Why do they have to be faced with gang violence daily? Why don't they have supportive families? Why does the world have to be a certain way? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why? Why? Just why?

My heart is heavy these days. I'm weighed down with sadness for my students' circumstances. Life has handed them more heartache and hardship than I'll probably ever experience. It's disheartening to be in urban schools, and I fully understand why the burnout rate is so high. It's not for everyone. And I can't, for the life of me, figure out why it's for me.

It's a constant paradox that I'm living in. It makes no sense for me to work in urban schools, considering my past and my education and my personality. But yet, when I'm there on Tuesdays and Thursdays, it feels right. I feel like I'm doing something right; I'm putting my skills and abilities to use in an environment where they are needed.

I had a student run to my class today. He came in out of breath, excited to be there. I had another student find me after school and ask if I would be back to teach on Thursday, because he really liked my lesson today. I had another student raise his hand every single time I asked a question, eager to learn and proud of his work. Even though there are a lot of difficult and discouraging things about working in urban schools, there are glimpses when I can see my students' benefitting from quality teaching. I want to be one of those teachers.

So these days, my heart is heavy. I don't have a neatly tied bow for the end of this post. I'm not sure if I'm in a good place or a bad place, and I know that I most certainly don't have all the answers. I am just continuing to put one foot in front of the other, taking life and teaching one step at a time.