three weeks.

I'm three weeks into student teaching - eek! I constantly find myself feeling clueless, overwhelmed, concerned, working, planning, writing, thinking, and trying to keep the feelings of stress at bay. It's not been an easy few weeks. I am sure at some point, I'll process through that and write about it.

For now, I am clinging to sweet moments with the people who 'get it'. I am holding tight to the silly moments of laughter and hilarious moments of encouragement. I am making room for food that comforts the soul. If you're student teaching, or stressed about life, or working hard, or human ... please, seek out laughter. Spend time with people who make you feel comfortable and loved and known. Spend time building one another up. Make room for encouragement. The energy that you spend feeling tired or stressed or complaining could be used seeking comfort, seeking laughter, seeking moments of sanity.

This week, I am finding comfort in Ryan Gosling, the sweet words of a good friend, and Pinterest.

"Maybe I know this job is for me not because it comes easily or without difficulties, but because I am willing to work through the hardships to become the best teacher I can be. Maybe there's nothing wrong with me ... maybe I am so exhausted because I am thinking and working and processing and trying to improve every moment of everyday and maybe, just maybe, that commitment, that drive that propels me to spend every moment thinking about becoming a better teacher, makes me exactly the kind of teacher this world needs." - Living Out of My Box

What does your semester look like? Or rather, what does your life look like? And how are you seeking out encouragement in the midst of stress? 

new questions, new prayers.

At the risk of sounding stupid, and annoying, and like a typical girl, and possibly desperate ... I've avoided writing this post for awhile. But lately, I've felt convicted of sharing. I talk on this blog about how everyone has a story. A story full of excitement and hope and laughter and hard and broken and exhausted. But a story that is worth being told. At the risk of sounding like a desperate girl I'm going to share my story, because if even one person reads this and gets something out of it, that's enough for me.

I want a boyfriend. There. I said it. Weight lifted. Sooooo, if you're single ... hit me up. I'm kidding, of course. Not about the wanting a boyfriend part. But about the single men of Chicago hitting me up on my blog part.

In case you were wondering (and even if you weren't), I'm 22 years old. I haven't dated a boy my entire college experience; partly by choice, partly by circumstance. And all of that is fine, I'm embracing it as a part of my story, but there's a part of me that wonders, questions, imagines. All around me, it seems like people my age are married, engaged, seriously dating. Certainly not everyone around me, but enough for me to take notice and eagerly ask, when's my turn? 

I'm certainly not ashamed at my yearning for a boyfriend. This week at church, we talked about creation, about the garden, about Adam and Eve. About how we were created for relationship, both with God and with the people in our lives. Men and women were created for relationship. Desiring and yearning for that companionship, I think, is normal (I'm sure there are entire books written on this topic, and I can't even begin to scratch the surface). But in my opinion, there's no shame in yearning for the companionship that we were created for.

There is, however, shame for the ways I have thought about, questioned, and prayed for this type of relationship in my life. As much as I try to fight against it, I find myself asking God lots of wrong questions about boys. I find myself asking things like ... When will this happen for me? How will it happen? You know that I want it to happen, right? Preferably yesterday would have been nice. Can you make sure he's at least 6'3? Can you just give me a sign? Can I at least meet him? What if it's that guy in Chiptole? What if it's that guy at church? What if it's someone in Hong Kong and I never meet him? Can you make sure he's really funny? How long will you make me wait? Can you just send me a boyfriend, or for that matter, a husband? And if possible, could you FedEx him? I hear they have a good overnight rate. 

Ok, some of those might have been slight over-exaggerations, but I think you got my point. As much as I hate to admit it, those are the types of questions I have been asking God about a boyfriend. My questions and my prayers are centered on the when, the how, the where, the what ifs, and the conditions. For so, so many reasons, I think these are the wrong questions. 

I want to stop asking the wrong questions, and start asking the right ones. And I think the right questions have less to do with other person and more to do with myself. 

I want to stop asking God when and how and what if, and start asking ... who am I becoming? Am I growing into the most authentic, most genuine Erin Claxton that I can possibly be? Am I growing into the woman You created me to be? Am I seeking Your heart and Your guidance as I make decisions that are forming the next chapter of my life? Am I allowing myself to grow in dependence - especially on Your timing? Am I allowing myself to grow in Christ's image? Will You transform me into the best girlfriend, best wife that I can possibly be? 

As I was typing that out just now, I thought about how self-centered it might seem. And then I thought I needed to explain myself. Quick. I am not trying to say that in order to get a boyfriend, you need to do a bunch of self-centered, self-help related things. But the way I've come to think of it is this: instead of asking and wondering and wasting time thinking about what if and when and how will it happen, I want to use this meantime to become the most authentic, most genuine, mostly truthful and deep person I can become.

When I stop asking the wrong questions and start asking the right ones, I am freed up to earnestly and thoughtfully and genuinely pray about a relationship. I can stop asking God to send me the right man, and I can pray that He will make me the right woman. That way, when a man finally comes knockin' down my door ... I'll be ready.


What questions are you asking about dating? Do you think they are the right questions?

breakfast, patience, & owning your gifts.

I had this post - about patience and gifts - all ready to write. I had been planning it in my head all week long. It was a real stick-it-to-the-man post. I was ready for the world to have a little talking to about patience, teaching special education, and annoying people at the grocery store.

And then I had breakfast with Sam. My dear, sweet, wonderful friend Sam. Have you started reading her blog yet? I talk about Sam almost as much as I talk about Shauna Niequist, and let's be honest, by now you should be fond of both. The real reason I bring her up so much and want you to love her as much as I do is because whenever we hang out, I do a lot of thinking. The good, soulful kind of thinking. Do you have someone like that in your life? Someone who makes you think and question and wonder and explore? Sam is one of those people for me, and I hope that you're fighting for friendship like that in your life.

This morning, over stuffed french toast and scones, we ended up talking a bit about my student teaching experience. I don't feel comfortable writing too many details on here - just for the safety and privacy and respect of my students (not to mention, that's probably illegal). But, you should know that the students in my classroom are considered to have more moderate cognitive disabilities and multiple disabilities. We spend a lot of our days working on functional skills or life skills - washing hands, social skills, school skills, morning greetings, name and letter recognition, cooking, weather, counting, knowing the months, etc. When I told Sam about my days, about how I spend time helping students recognize their name or learn how to say hello or how to open their milk carton, she responded with a gaping jaw and gasp and some comment to the effect of, "Wow! The patience that must take ... "

This is not the first time I've gotten a comment like that. It's not uncommon that when I tell people I'm studying special education I get told about how much patience I must have. "Oh, you must be so patient, I could never do that." Or, "Oh, you must be a saint." What about, "Good, we need patient people going into education." Or my personal favorite, "You must be like Mother Theresa or something." Sorry to report, but I am not Mother Theresa. Are you disappointed? Yeah, me too.

After Sam's comment about patience and the fact that this post was stewing in my head anyway, I almost lost it. I began telling her that no, no, no ... I am not a patient person. Have you ever been next to me in line at the grocery store? No patience. Have you ever been late to meet me somewhere? No patience. Are you constantly running on the ten-minutes-behind time clock of Heather Gibbs? No patience. Although I love my parents and credit them for many of the good qualities I possess, I detest the fact that somewhere along the line ... I didn't get a good lesson in how to be patient with the vast majority of the world, at least as it relates to planning, being on time, and waiting. I would actually be the first person to tell you I am quite impatient. Not to mention, just because I have patience for people with disabilities doesn't mean a thing. There are lots of people who have the ability to be patient all the time. And lots of people who are good at other things that I could never do. I could never be an engineer. And I could never work in a hospital. And what the heck makes my job so special anyway? And most importantly, I'M ACTUALLY NOT PATIENT.

I was about to get there in my rant when Sam stopped me mid-sentence and said, "No, that's your gift, Erin. You need to own it." I stopped for a moment and thought about it, and she's right. I may be, and quite possibly am, an impatient person. At least with most of the world. I do, however, have a specific ability and a specific type of patience that works for a certain population. I have a gift that not many other people have. I have the ability to, day in and day out, open milk cartons and spoons and teach my students how to use them. I have the patience to give hand-over-hand assistance to help my students use a glue stick or write their name. I have the patience to ask and re-ask and redirect and remind students all day long to keep their hands to themselves. I have the patience to teach. And gosh, do I love teaching. 

This is not, by any means, a post meant to toot my own horn or boast about how awesomely patient I am. Because I'm not. I'm just a normal person trying to use my gifts to infuse the world with a little bit more sunshine. I have a gift, a very precious and sweet gift of patience for people with disabilities. Put me in a special education classroom and that patience will flourish. Put me in line at the grocery store or in the same room as Heather when we're running late, and not so much.

My point of this long ramble is this: I have a gift that is unique to me, and so do you. I may have a gift and an ability to teach special education, but you, my dear friend and loyal reader, have an entirely different gift. Maybe you love engineering. I don't even know what engineers do. Maybe you're passionate about philosophy, which I slept through my freshmen year of college. Maybe you're studying to be a doctor or a nurse or a pharmacist. Thanks for not being scared of needles or death, because I am. Maybe you work in business or finance. I'm glad you know how the economy works, because that information goes right over my head. Do you get my point? You may be floored by my supposed patience because I work in special education, but I am blown away by your gifts and your talents, too.

We all have different gifts, unique to us. How amazing is that? How boring would the world be if we were all good at the same thing? Thankfully, we're not. There are as many interests and jobs and career paths and gifts and aptitudes and talents as there are people in the world, and for that I am so thankful. Please, own your gift. Own it with confidence and sparkle and healthy pride. Recognize the ways that you are gifted and talented, and see the gifts and talents of others. And please, please, please do everything in your power to use that gift to make the world a little bit brighter. Because the world needs a little sunshine these days. 

come alive.

Earlier this week, I began student teaching. This is the last and final portion of my teacher preparation program before I can graduate in May. I have only been at my placement for three days, but come home everyday with the feeling that this is it. This is it, in the best possible way. This is what I was created to do, part of who I was created to be, where my skills and gifts are meant to be used. I am, however, only three days in to a fifteen week experience. I am trying not to get ahead of myself. I do love teaching, but I am trying to see that my buoyancy and anticipation will quickly be met with hard work, long hours, and achingly repetitive days. And inevitably, doubt and frustration.

Teaching, like anything in life, is a both/and experience. It is both fun and hard. It is both exciting and mundane. It is both life-giving and draining. I want to be clear that the whole picture of teaching is what makes me come alive. The good, the bad, the excellent, and the ugly. That's the whole picture. And the whole picture, I think, is the essence of what it means to be alive. 

What makes you come alive? How are you pursuing being alive in your life? Your career? Your relationships?

As the days and weeks pass and I become more invested in my students and teaching this semester, I do not know what this blog will look like - the frequency of my posts will most likely decrease. I am, however, looking forward to pouring into the 10 first and second grade students in my class. I want to be fully present with them, being the best teacher I can be. I am excited to see them develop, grow and learn ... and I am grateful to be a part of that process! 

shalom.

The past few days have looked a lot like this .... 

some ah-mazing ladies. 

chicago natives are strong and sassy.

most of our weekend? stu and the ladies. 

remake of a picture from this post.

so. much. air.

The past few days have been filled with good food, lots of laughter, ample dancing, adventuring, remembering, and spending quality time with some of the most amazing people I know - the second seshhh Castaway summer staff family. The only word I can use to describe our reunion together is shalom.

"There is a way of living, a way of harmonizing and hitting a balance point, a converging of a thousand balance points and voices, layering together, twisting together, and there are moments when it all clicks into place just for a split second - God and marriage and forgiveness and something deep inside that feels like peace - and that's the place I'm trying to get to. 


I have glimpses every once in a while of this achingly beautiful way of living that comes when the plates stop spinning and the masks fall off and the apologies come from the deepest places and so do the prayers, and I am fighting, elbowing to make more of my life that life. I want that spirit or force of happiness that is so much deeper than happy - peace that comes from your toes, that makes you want to live forever, that makes you gulp back sobs because you remember so many moments of so much un-peace. I search for those moments the way I search for beach glass, bits of glitter along a desolate expanse of sand, and I want those moments to stretch into hours, into days.


The word I use for it is shalom. It is the physical, sense-oriented, relational, communal, personal, ideological posture that arches God-ward. That's the best way I can describe it. It's equilibrium and free-fall, balance and shake. It's a new dance, a new taste, the feeling of falling in love, the knowledge of being set free. It's that split-second cross between a fact and a feeling, something you would swear on in a court of law but couldn't find words for if you tried." - Shauna Niequist, Cold Tangerines




Thank you Regan. Thank you Molly. Thank you Amy. Thank you Emily. Thank you Grace. Thank you Heather. Thank you Stu. Thank you Peter. Thank you Dan. Thank you Mike. Thank you Kelli. Thank you everyone who was with us in spirit. Thank you for this weekend. Thank you for laughter and dance parties and adventures. Thank you for spontaneous togetherness. Thank you for honest conversation that points upward. Thank you for building up. Thank you for the sweet, sweet glimpse of shalom - for the minutes and hours and days of peace and celebration and life together, pulling one other up toward something bigger.