So It's Raining

In the last 24 hours, I have realized something: be careful what you pray for! Last night, I ask God to continue to mold and challenge me. Today my prayer was answered.

I took Maria Rapha home at 4:00 as usual. We then folded some clothes and I tried to recover from a difficult day. Usually we would immediately sit down and practice her reading. Today, we went to pray at a fellow teacher's house instead. When we got back, Maria Rapha asked if she could watch a movie. I told her only after we practiced reading. She sat down in a huff. I tried to work with her (phonics) but she kept giving me this bad attitude. I then told her she that she needed to go to her room. She refused. Sensing the storm coming, I told her she could move or be grounded for rest of the weekend. She quickly retorted, "You can't ground me this weekend because I am moving back in with my grandma." I told her that this was not an option--she could go with her mom or stay with me and she chose to stay. With a very smug look on her face, she told me that her grandmother had told her that she could move back in with her if she wanted. I was speechless as this was news to me. When I regained my powers of speech, I told her that was her choice but as long as she was in my house, she would follow my rules. She then ran off into her room and began packing.

I am pleased to say that Maria's anger was soon replace with stubborness. She proceeded to pack every possession that she could fit into her backpacks, hell-bent on leaving tomorrow morning. She even asked me if she could or couldn't take certain items. My flesh wanted to tell her she couldn't take the mud off the carpet, but I let her take everything I had bought her or friends had sent to her. I did, however, put my foot down when she requested that I allow her to take the bedding off the bed.

At one point during the night, she asked me if I would miss her when I left and what I would do. I thought she was then going to change her mind, but she said nothing. I put to her bed as usual, even reading a chapter from our bedtime story and praying with her. She still cuddled with me in bed and kissed on the cheek as is her custom. But she still said she was leaving.

I called her grandmother and spoke briefly with her over the phone. Her grandmother was clearly frustrated with Maria Rapha and told me that she couldn't take her back and that she was "burnt-out" on kids. I took this opportunity to explain that I wanted to keep Maria and if she would simply tell her that she could not leave, we would be fine. She never gave me that assurance in stone, but she did say that if Maria Rapha left, she had to go with her mom. Since her mom lives in Nebraska, that would mean it would more than likely be several days if not weeks until she could come up and pick her.

So, I am again in limbo. I have no idea how long Maria Rapha will be staying with me or if this will all be over in the morning. But I am still trying to trust.

Love,
B

Bring the Rain

It is very late and I haven't planned what I am going to do tomorrow. Instead, I have been talking with some incredible ladies about faith and trials. Speaking with them has encouraged me so much. Here are some things that I am thinking right now.

Living with Maria Rapha has been very tough--much tougher than I imagined for completely different reasons then I imagined. I don't mind the cooking, having to work at home, etc. What I don't like is having to put someone else's needs before mine at all times. I don't like surrendering my independence. I don't like facing my flaws and having to deal with them on a daily basis. But then again, maybe I do.

The Lord is with me. I am not walking this path alone. 1 Peter 1:6 says "In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. 7These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed." James adds "Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything."

Do I want to be mature? Do I want to be complete? So badly. I want to grow in the Lord. I simply cannot do that if I do not face trials. What I am going through right now is going to, and is, making me a stronger person. And you know what? God promises that He will never give me beyond what I can endure. That means that the Lord knows that I can handle this through His strength. What I am experiencing right now are merely growing pains. But I choose to rejoice this. No matter what I feel like, I cling to the hope that is set before me in Jesus Christ. I rest in the hope found in Banny's favorite Bible verse: "He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion.

Dear Father, right now my flesh hates what I am going through. There is so much about this situation which I recoil against. But I am clinging to you. I believe with all of my heart that what I am going through has been sent by you for my benefit and the benefit of Maria Rapha and all the other people I come in contact with. I choose, right now, to trust in you. Dare the potter turn to the clay and question the work of His hands? No, I dare not. I will not. Instead, I will submit myself to be molded and formed to be more like you. I trust you. There is no safer place than in your hands. You are everything to me.

Love, your broken daughter.

B

But Then She Prayed

In the middle of the night (or perhaps the early morning), Maria Rapha crawled into my bed. Rather than endure the punching-fest that always ensues when she sleeps beside me, I drug myself out of bed and went to the couch. This was a smart move because it wasn't until 7:30 that she woke me up this morning. Yeah for sleeping in.

We both got ready for church in the morning as I struggled to make sure that my attitude today was better than yesterday. I admit that I wasn't off to a very good start. I wasn't doing too bad until her chocolate bar that I was holding for her melted in my jacket pocket. By the time I noticed, I smeared the warm treat all over the inside of my pants. I didn't have my truck so I couldn't drive home and just change them. Mortifying.

We got back from church and I fought against more feelings of irritation. Part of my frustrations stem from the fact that I felt very trapped this weekend. I temporarily have no truck (long story) so can drive nowhere. My best friends here are 45 minutes away without a vehicle and several hours away in Wyoming with her husband. I can't just pick up the phone and call someone since my cell phone battery is dead and my only charger in my truck, which I don't have...(sigh).

Things culminated before dinner when Maria Rapha told me that loved 50 Cent (a rapper). She also defiantly told me that she now liked Hannah Montana and didn't care what she did with her boyfriend. At that point, I excused myself to go take a shower (aka pray in private).

My prayer was not that God would change Maria's heart, but mine. I have been so selfish these last couple of days. I can feel the battle waging around me, but it is hard to fight. Thankfully, my faithful blog readers have been lifting me up in prayer. Tonight, I felt the breakthrough.

It started just before bed. I climbed in next to her and read from the "Tale Of Desperaux" as we always do. I then read to her from the Bible, which is always our custom. But tonight, she asked me to read more to her. As she snuggled closer to me and I read to her from John, I could start to see clearly again. My heart of stone was again transformed into a hard of flesh. By the time we began our prayers, I was ready for what God had in store.



I have not had the honor of hearing many eight-year-olds pray. It is difficult to describe. Maria's prayers tonight sent chills down my spine. I could sense the presence of God in such a cool way. She prayed for the children of northern Uganda and that God would change the hearts of those who were kidnapping children and forcing them to be child soldiers. She prayed for those teenagers who were involved in gangs--that were "trying to follow Jesus but were making bad choices." And my eyes welled up with tears as she thanked God for sparing my little sister's life in India, while still remembering to pray for those who died on the train she should have been on. I was frustrated with Maria Rapha today, but then she prayed... and I was humbled by her sincerity and thankful to God for allowing me to be a part of this young girl's life.

He is so amazing,

B

Sin

Today has not been a good day. It really started last night. Maria Rapha has a habit of waking me up when I am sleeping--she does it in the early mornings, if I doze off on the couch, or even in the middle of the night. I don't let her sleep in my bed, but in the mornings I let her come in when she wakes up. However, lately she has not been coming in to sleep beside me but to wake me up. So what is the big deal? Well, I am exhausted, pure and simple. I am just so tired and I need every second of sleep I can get so that I can be effective in the classroom. I also am more irritable when I don't get enough sleep.

Last night, I feel asleep on the couch while doing my work. She jumped on top of me and woke me up. Today she woke me up at 6:00 am. It's Saturday. I was very close to being upset. I told her that if she wanted breakfast, she knew where to find it, and tried to go back to bed. She repeatedly came in. I finally dragged myself out of bed, truly irritated.

For most of this day, I have been irritated with her. When she popped the lenses out of my glasses today, I got upset. She was clearly unrepentant and told me that it was an easy problem to fix (actually not the case). In an irritated voice, I told her that she breaks everything she touches, which is not the case. She actually just breaks most of what she touches. Anyway, she went to her room and hasn't come out. She is now sleeping and I don't want to know what kind of mood she will be in when she wakes up.

I am mad at myself. I am very, very mad at myself. She needs unconditional love and I kept pushing her away today because I was annoyed with her. When she was leaning/pushing me on the couch this morning, I made her leave because she was making me fall over. I should have hugged her and told her I love her. What is wrong with me?

As I reflect on this day, I see clearly that my sins can have a very negative influence on Maria Rapha's life. It is sobering and heartbreaking. Why didn't God pick some other person to take care of her? Ideally, that person would have far fewer faults that I do.

We could really use your prayers right now.

B

Would Mr. Right Please Step/Run Forward...Or Not

Have you ever experienced the peer pressure of an eight-year old child? It is very powerful. Perhaps it is because kids call it like you see it, but when they talk, I listen. That is why my children's near constant obsession with my romantic life (or lack their of), has got me reflecting.

Here is a brief synopsis of my history with romantic relationships...none. Now I did have a rather romantic proposal in Uganda--a Muslim man wanted me to be his fourth wife in exchange for some cows. (I considered it but just couldn't reconcile myself to the thought of the frequent Ugandan dust storms.) So I find myself at 23 having never dated anyone. I've lobbied in Washington D.C., known the deaf to receive their hearing, roasted frogs in a rice paddy in Thailand and had tea with the leader of a rebel army, but I have zero experience when in comes to matters of the heart. So what's the problem? Absolutely nothing.

According to the standards of the world, I should be concerned--very concerned. Many of my friends are now married or in a very serious relationship. Several even have children. But as for me, I live in place where the only single men with whom I regularly interact with between the ages of 19 and 50 is a gay man and an individual who could shame Casanova. In fairness, I have seen some youngish looking men from time to time--kinda like Bigfoot sightings--but have never gotten pass an awkward stare of awe at their existence.

So what is a girl to do? The answer: trust. Though there is a part of me that wants to apply for Extreme Makeover: Brittany Addition, I know that this is not the solution or even the problem. My singleness has truly been a gift. Because I have never been in a relationship, I have been free to wholly devote myself to whatever God has put before me. I truly cannot fathom what it would have been like to have come to this place with an attachment. I would be torn between my classroom and him. I would constantly feel like I was failing one or both parties. The same is true of Uganda, Thailand, Brasil, Botswana, etc. I mean, when is the last time you met a man who was willing/honored to sleep on a dirt floor in a refugee camp? Because I am single, I can come running when God calls. It truly is pretty special.

Someone once told me that I would walk a very lonely road. I feel like that from time to time. I feel as if I am walking along a very long and difficult road, very much alone. However, along the way, I meet incredible people who encourage me, but I still remain on the journey alone. It can get lonely, but then I remember that I am not walking alone. Jesus is always beside me, leading me where He wants me to go. You see, I would rather live my entire life as a single woman than to abandon the path God has set me upon. I am headed somewhere--straight to the Father's heart.

B

What Could Have Been

All of you must read my baby sister's latest blog entry. I still feel sick just thinking about the possibility of what could have happened. However, my even stronger emotion is gratitude to God.

Check it out:

http://www.breanabrendsel.blogspot.com/

B

Post-Brawl

Today was an awkward day for me. I was so exhausted from last night's ordeal that I almost fell asleep teaching. It's a good thing I love my kids.

Life after school has been interesting. I told Maria Rapha that she was grounded until March 1. This means that she is not allowed to have any desserts, any friends over, watch movies, play on the computer, or play with toys. She is basically allowed to read, do math, do her chores, eat and sleep. Her room is still empty save for the bed. I told I would return stuff to her at the end of each today. Tonight, I am giving her her clothes back. Tomorrow, I'll probably return wall hangings. She also must write a letter of apology to my parents for destroying a game they sent her and thank-you notes to all of you who have sent her such wonderful presents (many of which I am with-holding until she is un-grounded).

In other news, I was distracted when cooking dinner. I added too much meat to the Hamburger Helper so the majority of it was unflavored. What was flavored tasting disgusting. I tried to add spaghetti sauce to make it taste better, but to little avail. I suppose I did add a little spice when I set it on fire. I accidentally started a grease fire when my nasty-food overflowed into the coil burner. I was a bit shocked when 2 and a half foot flames went into the air as my stove doesn't even have burners. I had the presence of mind to back away from the fire, taking my flaming nasty-food with me. Meanwhile, Maria Rapha ran from the kitchen screaming "FIRE! FIRE!" I still tried to serve the food. It was disgusting. I ate all mine, but didn't make Maria Rapha endure that torture. I ended up throwing it away. What a waste.

B

Love is...Hard

I am writing a sequel to my previous post as I believe I have grown as a person in just a few short hours.

Maria Rapha returned from seeing her mom today around 11:00. She brought her older sister with her. On Saturday, her mother drove up from Nebraska and she had dinner with Maria Rapha, her brother and her older sister. She then left than night, taking the boy with her as the other two girls decided to stay--one with me and the other with her grandmother.

The minute Maria Rapha returned, I could sense something was off. The first thing she did was show me the two new pairs of shoes her mother bought her at $50 a piece. She also proceeded to state, rather defiantly, that her mother had spent over $200 on her sister and herself. Throughout the day, she continued to refer to her mom's money and how much she spends on her, etc. I admit that I was a bit annoyed by her behavior, but I didn't say anything.

Things went south at dinner. I made spaghetti and didn't pour the sauce for the children as not everyone likes sauce. When Maria Rapha poured hers, she wasn't paying attention and poured the entire bottle on her plate. I sharply, but not angrily said, "Maria Rapha-you dumped the whole jar." I then tried to divvy up the sauce between the three plates and said nothing more on the matter. Maria Rapha, however, proceeded to put her head on the table and not touch her food. She has already had three tantrums before today, so I ignored the behavior and chatted with her sister as if nothing had happened.

Towards the end of dinner, she ran into her room and slammed the door. She began to sob, very loudly. She declared over and over again that she wanted her mother and that she didn't like me. I ignored her, as I had heard all this before. After about thirty minutes, she came out and started watching the movie with her sister. I told her that she needed to go back to her room. She again slammed the door. I walked in and told her that if she slammed her door again, I would take it off the hinges. Soon after, I began to hear her throwing things. I walked in and found that she had began to destroy a game of Monopoly. The money was scattered around the floor, most of it crumpled, some torn in pieces. At that point, I removed the door and put it into my room. I told her that she needed to pick up the mess or I would remove her stuff from her room. When she didn't move, I began to remove her possessions. At this point, she was so angry, she was shaking. She began to throw things around the room and at me. When I removed the radio, she told me she was going to smash it during the night. When she reached out to throw a glass picture frame, I really began to fear for her and my safety. I grabbed her wrists to keep her from throwing the picture frame against the wall. I then scooped her up and placed her on the bed, continuing to empty the room. When I began to move stuff her mother had given her that day, she snapped. She charged like an angry bull into my room and began grasping for her items. I again picked her up to return her to the bed. Unfortunately, she had a shoe. With one hand, she scraped my arms and pinched me. With the other, she used a shoe to repeatedly strike my face. I again placed her on the bed and removed the shoes from her fingers. Then, I sat in the doorway of her room and just looked at her. She began to scream that she was going to call her mom to have her beat me up and the she was going to kill me. She, of course, also said she was leaving in the room.

At this point, I began to sing "In Christ Alone" over and over again. I just sat in the doorway as Maria Rapha shook with rage and sorrow and worshiped God. It's crazy, but I felt such peace. Maria was still trying to find things to destroy. She threw hangers at me, snapped pencils and tried to break the bed frame in half. Then, I started praying for her. I asked God to give her peace and show her how much He loved her and that I loved her. I prayed that over and over again. I also prayed that Satan would be kicked out as only believers reside in this house. Then, I looked at her and said, "Maria Rapha, you are not called to serve Satan but the Lord. You are to be a light in darkness, a healer to the nations. God has a plan for your life." At that point, her head fell into her hands and she just cried out, "I know." It was then, I felt the victory in the Spirit. I scooped up that little girl, held her in my lap and just cried with her. As our tears mixed, she said, "I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry. My heart is just so full of sorrow. I miss my mom and my and my brother." She just sobbed and I could feel the anger leaving her as she struggled to deal with the pain that was torturing her soul. I told her over and over again that I love her. I also told her that I would fight for her and love her unconditionally. Very soon after, she dried her tears and took her shower. I put the sheets back on her bed, read her a bedtime story, prayed with her and kissed her goodnight and that was the end.

Though the entire seen spanned over about an hour, I felt peace through the entire episode. The only time that I was close to anger was when I saw that she had destroyed my childhood game of Monopoly. But even then I knew that there were deeper issues that I was fighting against. And as she struck my face over and over again with that shoe, all I could think about was how much pain she must be dealing with. When it was all over, I just cried. I cried for Maria Rapha and all those who are like her--bearing ugly scars at such a young age. I cried for Maria's mom, a woman who is I feel such compassion for. And then, I admit, I cried for me because I had no one to hold me and tell me that things would be better in the morning.

But now, I praise God. I praise Him because I know without a shadow of doubt that I did the right thing in taking Maria Rapha. I praise Him because I never am really alone. I praise Him because even in the eye of the storm, He is very present. I praise Him because He is just beginning to work in me and in Maria Rapha. I praise Him because He loves me even when it is hard.

Love is....

LOVE IS...My parents

The sent me a package which only people who intimately knew could construct so perfectly. My mamma had picked out some clothes for me and a movie she new I would like. She also through in an apple coated in caramel and nerds--a delicious combination! They had also included items for Maria, gifts which made her feel special and loved.

But my parents are Love because they give when in it hurts, they love when it is a choice and they support when others tear-town. They are my unconditional fan base and the role models which I turn to for parenting advice. They are Love.

LOVE IS...My sisters

D is a modern-day Paul, preaching the Word of God with boldness. She loves others enough to confront them when they are wrong and help empower them to change. She extends a hand to others when I would likely extend a fist instead. She is Love.

B is my little-big sister. She takes cares of me when I should be taking care of her and forgives me when I hurt her. Children, the best judges of character, don't have to hear her say she loves them--they can feel it. She is Love.

LOVE IS...My Best Friends

Whittle, Ric and Kate loved me when I did not love myself. They were my first true friends. They know my flaws so intimately, yet still believe in me. They are Love.

Amy loved me when I was the hardest to love. She watched me grow and supported me through the most challenging and rewarding times of my life. When I was in agony from an earache in Thailand, she sat-up with me through the night. When I was bitter and angry about the injustices I had seen in Uganda, she was patient with me. And when my dreams didn't make sense, she silenced all the "dream-killers" around me. She is my sister. She is Love.

Rebekah understands me better than anyone, for she is the five-year better version of myself. She alone understands why I would rather be in the slums of Brasil or the refugee camps of the Congo than the sunny beaches of Hawaii. She alone knows the ugliness that is within me, but still somehow sees beauty. She is Love.

Abby is my soul sister. Though no two individuals could me more unalike in temperament we are bonded together in our mutual love for Christ and His children. She loves me enough to tell me the truth, even when I don't want to hear it. She loves when she doesn't feel like it, something that I covet and deeply respect about her. She is Love.

LOVE IS...The Guardians of Room 170

Whether it is the auntie, mom or grandma of a best friend, the 4-wheeling buddies of my dad, or my sister's best friends, these are the people that keep my classroom running and me going. They knit mittens, send books, shoot me emails, ask what is needed, pray without ceasing and believe that God can use a person and imperfect as myself. They are the silent readers of this blog, many of whom I have never met in person yet still have managed to touch my classroom in ways only eternity can talk about. They are Love.

LOVE IS...My Students

The way they throw their arms around my waist and squeeze real tight or the way their eyes light up when they see me in the mornings, tell me I am loved. Even though it is I who should be caring for them, they care for me in so many ways. Though I am irritable some days and absent-minded nearly every day, they forgive me and love me as only children do. They are Love.

LOVE IS...Maria Rapha

When I wake up in the mornings, the first thing I feel are her arms around my neck and her slobbery kisses on my cheek. At the times I least expect it, she will lift my arm up, wrap it around her neck and just squeeze me. She tells me every day that I will be a wonderful mother and that my cooking is delicious--proof that love is blind. She is Love.

LOVE IS...My Savior

There are no words to express how thankful I am that you love me. You alone know the depths of my weakness and how much I need a Savior. You are my life, my breath, my everything. You alone give the aforementioned people the ability to love as they do, for you are the author of love. You are Love.

Amazing

My memory is very photographic. What I remember I can vividly see. Today, I was thinking back to my time in Alaska January of last year. I was visiting one of my most precious friends whom I went to Uganda with. She was finishing up college at the time so some days I was alone for a a few hours while she was in school. This also a few days after the time that I found out that I had been accepted into TFA. I remember one morning falling to my knees and praying so hard for the children that I did not yet know but already love. I remember praying that they would learn, yes. But more importantly, I remember praying that they would come to know the love of God.

When I think back to that time and look at my life now, I am just in awe. I am 23 years-old. I didn't study education but my children have grown 1.5 years in reading in four months. I have never kissed a guy, but I am raising a child. And I not a missionary, in the strictest sense, but my little girl now knows the Lord. Coincidance, I think not. My life is living proof that God chooses the foolish of the world to shame the wise, the weak, to shame the strong. There really have been some hard times, but God has really seen me through them all. I am simply amazed by Him.

B

Maria Rapha

Today, Crazy M became a believer.

I can’t tell you when the journey began for her. I am certain that God was planting seeds in her life at a very young age. I was merely present today to witness the beautiful harvest.

We were making Valentine’s Day cards for her classmates and mine. I felt very reflective during the activity as it seemed like a very mom-like thing to do. We started talking about Rihanna (a very popular recording artist) and which of her songs I did and didn’t appreciate. I honestly don’t have a clue how our conversation cut to Romans. At some point, I mentioned that to become a believer, all you had to do was pray to Jesus, tell him that you were sorry for the things you had done wrong and ask Him to be your God. Then you have to follow Him the rest of your life. To be honest, I must have been very distracted when I was telling her this because I only vaguely recalled it. I only snapped back to reality when I heard her say, “Can I pray that prayer tonight?” My jaw nearly dropped to the table and the over-glittered V-Day card that I held in my hand was ignored. I fought the urge to get her on her knees right then, knowing that it would be better to wait until I could have her full attention. It was a good choice because she immediately returned to scrawling her name on her Valentines, as if she had just remarked about the weather.

As usual, we went through our bedtime ritual of her bathing and me tucking her in. I pulled back the covers and scooted in beside her. I patiently read to her from The Tale of Desperaux, the book we have been reading together. Next, I reached for my Bible, as is also the tradition. Today, I read to her from John 3, taking the time to explain to her what Jesus and Nicodemus were talking about. At some point, I referred to hell. It was clear she didn’t know what I was talking about. I was reluctant to speak to her about hell as she already is prone to bouts of fear. But in my heart, I thought it wrong to water-down the Gospel. I told her that there were two types of people in the world—those who had accepted Jesus’ forgiveness and those who had not. And then, as gently as I could, I told her about the reality of hell. She immediately starting crying, fearing not for herself, but her mother, her father and her siblings. But then I reminded her of God’s beautiful news—that one need only ask Jesus to forgive them and decide to follow him, and they would get to spend forever with Him. She was still very concerned about her family so I took her to 1 John 5 and showed her that if we pray for anything that God desires, we can be sure that it will happen! God desires her mother to be saved so all we have to do is be faithful in prayer. She immediately closed her eyes and began to pray for her mother, her father and finally, herself. She asked the Lord to forgive them and to forgive her. I then asked her if she wanted to follow Jesus the rest of her life, she said she did. I spent the next several minutes trying to explain to her the magnitude of what just happened. I told her how Jesus was with her and how she now had the power within her (from Jesus) to heal the sick, cast out evil spirits and raise the dead. I told her about Jericho and Daniel and the Lions Den. I even told her about how my dad’s ribs were healed. She surprised me by recalling the story of how my dad’s back had been miraculously healed. I told her I had seen the deaf hear and the blind see. I told her that now, wherever she went, Jesus was walking right beside her, offering her help and love. Finally, we prayed again. I nearly wept when she prayed for her dad. She prayed that she when she grew up to be a teenager, that she would get to know him. I then prayed for her family and that her father would realize what an incredible daughter he had.

And so, Crazy M is no longer Crazy M. She has become part of my family, of your family. She has a new name, a new identiy. From this point on, I will call her Maria Rapha, Maria the Healer for God is going to use her to bind the wounds of generations of brokenness in her family.

Praise be to the Ever-Living God!

B.

P.S. “Grandpa”—Maria Rapha said more than once that she misses you. She asked if she could hang the paper-towel-note you made us in her room. Thanks so much for coming. It blessed us so much. “Grandma”—your turn will come. Thanks for loving her so much already. I love you so much, too.

Crazy M

The journey has begun. Maria and I have now lived together for ten days. There have been many ups and downs during those times, but definitely more ups than downs. Through this experience, I am really learning a lot. There is no doubt in my mind that I will be a better person as a result of this time with my girl. Here are a few ways in which I have improved as a person in just a short while:

1) I now make my bed every day as I excpect this of Crazy M.
2) I now wash the dishes immediately after each meal.
3) Speaking of meals...I now cook. Yes, truly a miracle.
4) I mop my floor at least every other day.
5) I am in bed by 10:30 every night.
6) I leave school by 4:15 every day.
7) I read my Bible and pray every night with Crazy M.
8) Every morning I do devotions with my girl.

Even before Crazy M moved in, I was very aware of the eyes of so many students, watching me. They look to me to set an example. Because of that, I have gone to great lengths to be an indivual worthy of their admiration. In other words, I am trying to be more like Jesus. Having one of my students live with me has only made the process of refinement even more intense.

I thought I would leave you with some photos of Crazy M.

Sorrow

 I just got done putting Maria to bed. It is one of my favorite parts of the day. I also love brushing our teeth together and how she always thinks it is hilarious to make a moustache out of toothpaste foam.  I nearly die from laughter when she sings her own made-up song as she mops the floor—complete with kung-fu punches and lunges.  God sent me her at a perfect time in my life. She reminds me of the simple joys life brings.

 

I cannot describe the range of emotions I have experienced this last week.  But today was probably the most difficult day I have had since I began teaching five months ago.

Today, tears just streamed down my face as my most challenging class lined up to exit the classroom.  I just told them that I was so sorry their lives were so difficult.  Not very professional, but true.  My heart grieves for them everyday, but today I simply couldn't hold back the pain anymore.

 

An email can't really convey the depth of sorrows my kids shared with me today but I will tell you that I had a 10 year-old write on a peace of paper that he hates his life.  He illustrated his point by drawing a graphic picture of him slitting his own throat and blood pouring out. Next to him, his dead grandfather, who was wheelchair bound cries out "Jesse." The scene takes place next to an Exit door. Another one of my kids was left to the care of a 'strange man' while in Rapid. She is now displaying symptoms consistent with a molestation victim.  I had over half of one class confess to me in writing that they were occupied with some very painful experiences at home. One boy, whose grandfather is dying, simply said, "I am so angry. I am not ready to let him go."  What eight-year-old says that?  The school day ended with Maria's new teacher complaining about her not working and Maria crying very loudly for 40 minutes because I wouldn't "give her teacher-a-talking-to" as her real mom would have. Perfect.

 

I look into the eyes of these children and I see so much pain I can barely look.  It makes my Social Studies content seem nearly irrelevant.  Who gives a care about a thesis sentence and a stupid British accent when Death and Sorrow are their intimate companions? 

 

I think I realized today that if I was ever going to quit, it would be after a day like this.  But you know, today only strengthened my resolve. For the remainder of the time that God has me here, I will give everything I have and that which I didn't know that I had to letting my children know that they are loved and that a better life is possible.

 

Well, there is just a snapshot of what I have been thinking about since the bell rang today.

Letter From a Student

Dear Ms. Brendsel

 

I love you for a teacher because you are nice and not strict.  You have a good sense of humor and you teach us good stuff like vocab words and other stuff.  And you find fun ways for us to do it.  You figure out problems that need to be solved. You are a one of a kind treacher and I love you very much.  Once again, you are a fabulous, great, wonderful, nice and sweetly loved.

 

Love,

 

Your One and Only

Wasu