the spiral staircase.

One of my students is exceptionally good at identifying patterns. When we're working on patterns together, she gets so excited to tell me what comes next. Circle, square, circle, square, circle ... and Selma will yell "SQUARE!" Flower, butterfly, butterfly, flower, butterfly ... "BUTTERFLY, Claxton!!" Selma does an incredible job of predicting what comes next with patterns, and I can't help but feel like that's not unlike life. 

I think that each of us struggles with a specific set of issues and challenges that become patterns in our own lives. Certainly not every hard thing in life is a pattern. There are some things in life that come unexpectedly, harshly, and completely break us apart. Those are not the type of struggles I am addressing. However, I do believe there are struggles in our lives that are patterns. Maybe you continually struggle with the need to be in control, to plan. Or maybe you're at a constant battle with  needing the approval of others. We spend a large part of life, I think, circling around a central set of challenges. 

The spiral staircase. That's what Father Bob calls it, anyway. You don't know Father Bob? Don't worry, I don't know him personally either. I know of Father Bob through Heather. He was Heather's spiritual advisor last year, and of the many conversations I've had with Heather over the course of our friendship, the conversation about the spiral staircase is one I remember most. 

The spiral staircase is the idea that in all of life, we circle around a set of struggles that are central to our being. As we walk up the staircase, we circle around these challenges. We walk, we struggle, all the while moving upward. As we move up, our posture and reactions to life, pain, and experiences change. We struggle through something, walk awhile, and come around to the same issue again. Only, once we've walked, we're at a different place in our journey up the staircase. We approach the situation differently. If we're moving faithfully through life, the hope is that we walk up, becoming more like Jesus, more like who we were created to be. 

The top of the staircase, I think, is Heaven. We spend our whole lives walking up the staircase, circling around our brokenness. When we arrive at the top of the staircase, we've become like Jesus, complete. 

To be honest, we won't arrive in this life. We won't be complete here. The more I experience of life, the less I believe that I'll ever reach that end where I am complete, content, ready, perfect. I don't think I'll reach a day where I stop facing challenges and struggles. Challenges and struggles and difficulty are a part of life in this world. Maybe I'll never reach the day where the idol of approval and the struggles of inadequacy stop breathing down my neck. I can however walk upward, move forward. But I'll never reach perfection in this life, because perfection doesn't exist in this life. Perfection is a part of God, a part of heaven. All we can do is keep walking. Keep circling. Keep faithfully walking up the stairs. 

It's only when we've walked up the stairs that we can realize how far it is we've truly come. When we have walked up and around, we can look down and see that we've grown, become. We're closer to where we're going, but we're still not there yet. I think the best thing we can do is to identify the patterns in our lives and put on our comfortable shoes.

What are the patterns in your life? What are the central struggles you face? Which way are you moving on the staircase? 

"This season is ... "

Technically, it's still winter in Chicago. In reality, the past few days have felt like summer. Today I hit the beach after school, napping and reading in the sunshine. Certainly, an act that like is normally inconceivable in Chicago this time of year. Somewhere in the muddle of what is still winter but feels like summer is spring; sweet birds chirping, trees budding, reminders of life to come spring. I have been eagerly awaiting the day in room 104 when we can switch the "This season is ..." board to say "spring" instead of "winter." 


I am excited, yes. But with spring coming, I am a mix of bittersweet emotions. The season of life at Bethesda is dwindling. The days of college life will soon be long gone. The days of my sweet students in room 104 will soon come to an end. This chapter will close. This story will end. But with spring comes life; the hope that something is growing, something has been stirring all winter long. Something will bloom again. Something is coming. I will move into a new apartment. I will (hopefully) get a job. Life will change and move and something beautiful will spring up. 


As winter ends and spring approaches, I am both nostalgic for the past few years and hopeful for what's next. I am both scared and excited. I am a mix of emotions, feelings, and thoughts. I want to let spring work its way in me. I want to feel the season, in the least tree-hugger way possible. I want to let spring soak in, reflecting and remembering why it matters. I want to be aware and in tune with the hallmarks of spring; that life comes out of frozen ground, that there is something more to come. 

“In my own life, as winters turn into spring, I find it not only hard to cope with mud but also hard to credit the small harbingers of larger life to come, hard to hope until the outcome is secure. Spring teaches me to look more carefully for the green stems of possibility; for the intuitive hunch that may turn into a larger insight, for the glance or touch that may thaw a frozen relationship, for the stranger's act of kindness that makes the world seem hospitable again.”  - Parker Palmer






How will you let spring work its way in you? What do you learn from spring? What are you reflecting on, as you move from winter into spring? Is it hard to hope, or easy to hope in what's to come?

we just wanna be loved.

Wow. So, go figure that I wrote this post a few weeks ago about writing everyday. Hmmph. I am staying consistently inconsistent with the posts that I am writing on here, but I can say that the past few weeks have brought about more intentional quiet time, more reading, more processing, more prayer ... which, in my opinion, is the heart of Lent. Returning. Resting. Remembering. 

Lately, I've been listening to Ben Rector. A lot. Have you hopped on the Ben Rector bandwagon? If not, then we probably can't be friends.

This song has been on repeat the past few days (let's be honest, so has this song). I love these lyrics from Ben Rector's song: 

And every move

Leads right back to

Our need for acceptance

Our fear of rejection

Oh, a little love

Yeah, that's what we want

So true. Insecurity is manifested differently in each person; from arrogance to shyness and everything in between. But we each have moves that lead right back to our need for acceptance, fear of hurt, and desire to be loved. As human beings, we have a deep desire to be known and loved, heard and valued. All of us. Every. Single. Person. No one is exempt from the desire for love, community, relationship. We're wired to know and be known, to love and be loved. It's the human condition. How will you choose to engage in that?

Are you honest with yourself? About your actions? About the ways you seek to be known and loved, heard and valued? Are you engaging in relationships that allow you to know and be known? Love and be loved? Are there people in your life who walk with you through insecurity and brokenness of spirit?

my hope is found.

This weekend was good. So, so good. It was good for my heart and for my soul; filled with rest and hope and sitting in uncertainty with an overwhelming feeling of peace about it all. It was a weekend full of conversation, both serious and silly. It was a weekend of fullness, exploration, and confrontation in my heart. It was a weekend both of feeling the heavy weight of living in the unknown and the joy of living in it, too. It was a weekend brimming with hope and promise and peace about what's to come. 

"Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful." - Hebrews 10:23

keep breathing.

I have very few words this week. The only two words that come to mind consistently these days are pray and breathe. And keep going. And maybe just keep swimming.

Where has your heart been this week? 

satisfy.

I feel the need to be honest with you. The past day and a half have been full of fear, a lot of worry, questions, and attacking anxiety over the unknown and the next chapter of my life.

I want to be honest and clear on this blog that I believe life to a beautiful mess. I don't know how often or how well I convey that to you. Sometimes I think what I write is too Pollyanna; neatly wrapped into presents and sprinkled with positivity. Being completely honest, there are so many moments in this season where it's hard to grip positivity. Some days, it's much easier to hold onto fear, worry, and anxiety.

Anxiety about a growing to-do list and decreasing time to actually do (I'm sure you can all relate to that). Worry about how I can possibly combine all of my passions in the next season. How will my passion for Young Life intertwine with my passions to teach special education and serve students in urban settings? Is there a way to make all three work together? Fear is crippling my mind into thinking that I won't get a job, doors won't open, and I'll somehow end up in a place that prevents me from becoming and moving and growing. Some days, it's so disheartening to have no clue how the next stretch of time will unfold. I can sit here tonight and envision a myriad of different scenarios with no idea where and how and when to approach which one. When will doors start opening? When will way make? When will I feel like I am making progress, moving forward?

Last night, I was thinking through all of these things; feeding fear and anxiety and worry. This song came on my iPod while I was at the gym. The prayer coming out of this song is so simple, yet poignant. Satisfy. Satisfy me Lord.

I looked up the definition of the word satisfy. A quick Google search tells me that satisfy means to meet expectations, needs, or desires. Yes, satisfy me Lord. Wherever the next chunk goes, satisfy me Lord. Wherever I end up, satisfy me Lord. Wherever this path goes, satisfy me Lord. May I - you, we - find satisfaction in His plan which is so much greater than ours. May we find satisfaction in His timing, which rarely aligns with our timing. May we be satisfied by His promises that there is something great to come. May we be satisfied in His faithfulness through all of our days.

Amen? Amen. This teacher is off to bed!