In 1 Thessalonians 5: 17, Paul urges us to "pray continually". He doesn't say "pray a lot". He says pray continually. Unceasingly. Never stop praying.
Do you pray unceasingly? Be honest. If you think that you are praying enough, it's probably a good indication that you aren't. I'm not sure that we could ever pray 'enough'. So often I need to reacquaint my knees with the carpet.
Recently I had the pleasure of meeting Una. Una lives in Gatton and is in her 80's. Una is unwell and her frail body would have you believe that her strength is beginning to fail, however her passionate love for the Lord is ever strong. Mark and I visited Una one afternoon while we were in Gatton, and she taught us a lot about what it means to "pray continually". Una understands the desperate importance of Paul's words, and persists in prayer with unwavering joy and conviction.
Every morning, Una prays for Mark. Una had been praying for me as well, however up until our meeting she hadn't been able to give me a name. As we sat in Una's lounge room, we listened as Una told us about her love for Christ and the delight with which she prays. Often, as Una is praying or reading the Bible, she hears God's voice telling her to "sing it to Me". So, she sings to Him. In a soft yet tuneful voice, Una sang to us some of the songs that she sings to her Father. Some lyrics she had written, others were inspired by Psalms and verses. The melodies had stirred within her heart. "Sing it to Me". I wonder if many of us stop to listen to our Father asking His child to sing for Him.
Una then showed us the diary where she keeps written accounts of visions and dreams. In one of her dreams, she likened individual prayers to balloons. In this particular dream, the prayers that lacked meaning and conviction sat idly on the floor, like balloons that were unable to rise. However prayers that are given from the heart, through faith in Christ guided by the Holy Spirit, rise heavenward with the ease of a helium inflated balloon. Una laughed as she told us that every time she sees a balloon on the ground, she can't help but kick it into the air.
As we held hands and prayed together, I couldn't help but let a few rebellious tears slide down my cheeks. This woman taught me a lot in the short amount of time that we spent with her. She encouraged me to persist with prayer. The only time when Una is less consistent with prayer is when she is in hospital, but "He understands those times". She reaffirmed to me the importance of listening, and of responding. She demonstrated to me that a passionate spirit can defy the fatigue of the body. This woman is strong, because Christ is strong in her palpable weakness.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
"Closed for Cleaning"
Attention all students who frequent the JCU Western campus. This morning Townsville Education students were notified via email that one of the computer rooms on Western campus has been "closed for cleaning". Who would have thought that this magical day would ever come? Many years have passed since this room has been cleaned. Spider webs hang from the ceiling as proud trophies of neglect and dirty shoe prints line the floor, creating an intriguing pattern. The computer room has very little graffiti, however this could be attributed to the fact that most pens are unable to penetrate the thick layer of dust that covers, well, everything. Some may miss the unique, if not disgusting, qualities of this room. If this is you, do not despair. It will be 3 months before the room is once again in use, and almost certainly at least 3 years before it will be cleaned again. That is more than enough time for the mankiness of cockroaches, spiders, cobwebs, dirt, dust, wallabies and college students to reinhabit this space.
I must admit that I was speechless upon receiving the news that one of our rooms was being professionally cleaned. Perhaps the sparkling hand of cleanliness will one day be extended to the remainder of the rooms on Western Campus. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.
All that is left to say are but a few words from a grateful student: "JCU... I love it."
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
The times, they are a'changin...
Good ol' Bob Dylan, that phrase is always so relevant.
Today I began studying for final exams. My first exam will be for an ICT (information communication technologies) subject. I also spent a few hours at school today. It's that wonderful time of year when schools often do a stock take, and guess who volunteered for the job? Just as a word of advice, DON'T EVER volunteer to do a whole school stock take. The lady who I spoke with before beginning this arduous task referred to me as her victim five times, and called it "the crappiest job in the world" 3 times. She said that she would understand if I decided to bail.. but did I listen? No, of course not. The work is extremely tedious, however I'm finding ways to make it fun. I've been able to meet so many teachers and students around the school, which has been so lovely. I really enjoy meeting new people... although, I do seem to have my fair share of awkward conversations. Here's one that I had the other week:
Me: "Hello!"
Colleague: "Good thanks, how are you?"
Me: "Good thanks, how are you?"
Colleague: *pause*.... *awkward laugh*
Not to worry. I even enjoy the awkward conversations.
Anywho, as a victim of stock take, I need to sight all of the items in the school that cost over $100. It could be worse, I could have to count pencils or paper clips or something. As I was making my way around the school today, it was interesting to see all of the different forms of technology, and how quickly the definition of 'modern' technologies can change. In one classroom there will be prehistoric computers and OHPs, and in another there will be SmartBoards and PS2s. When I was in grade 4, I remember wheeling an OHP from one classroom to another on a rickety old trolley. I hit a crack in the cement and the OHP fell from the trolley onto the ground. I wanted to die. Seriously. I wanted God to strike me down where I stood so that I didn't have to face the inevitable disappointment of my teacher. Fortunately no damage was done, and I lived to tell the tale. However this may not have been the case if I had tipped over a SmartBoard.
Incidentally, I used a SmartBoard for the first time on Tuesday in my ICT tute. My fellow Ed Heads will understand how sad this is. This is only made worse by the fact that I've previously only ever seen a SmartBoard used to screen a DVD. Hardly educational. Anywho, using the SmartBoard didn't make me feel very smart. It did make me feel like a complete novice, which... really, was quite appropriate. It reminded me of the time that we tried to teach my grandma how to send an SMS. Keeping up with rapidly changing technologies is a bummer in most jobs and is certainly not exclusive to teaching. I haven't yet decided if it is irritating or a blessing to have students who know more about technology than I do. But such is life, that's the way the cookie crumbles, that's the way this wheel keeps workin', hakuna matata, rah rah rah.
Ok, now that I have written these disjointed ramblings, I will continue studying. Peace out!
Today I began studying for final exams. My first exam will be for an ICT (information communication technologies) subject. I also spent a few hours at school today. It's that wonderful time of year when schools often do a stock take, and guess who volunteered for the job? Just as a word of advice, DON'T EVER volunteer to do a whole school stock take. The lady who I spoke with before beginning this arduous task referred to me as her victim five times, and called it "the crappiest job in the world" 3 times. She said that she would understand if I decided to bail.. but did I listen? No, of course not. The work is extremely tedious, however I'm finding ways to make it fun. I've been able to meet so many teachers and students around the school, which has been so lovely. I really enjoy meeting new people... although, I do seem to have my fair share of awkward conversations. Here's one that I had the other week:
Me: "Hello!"
Colleague: "Good thanks, how are you?"
Me: "Good thanks, how are you?"
Colleague: *pause*.... *awkward laugh*
Not to worry. I even enjoy the awkward conversations.
Anywho, as a victim of stock take, I need to sight all of the items in the school that cost over $100. It could be worse, I could have to count pencils or paper clips or something. As I was making my way around the school today, it was interesting to see all of the different forms of technology, and how quickly the definition of 'modern' technologies can change. In one classroom there will be prehistoric computers and OHPs, and in another there will be SmartBoards and PS2s. When I was in grade 4, I remember wheeling an OHP from one classroom to another on a rickety old trolley. I hit a crack in the cement and the OHP fell from the trolley onto the ground. I wanted to die. Seriously. I wanted God to strike me down where I stood so that I didn't have to face the inevitable disappointment of my teacher. Fortunately no damage was done, and I lived to tell the tale. However this may not have been the case if I had tipped over a SmartBoard.
Incidentally, I used a SmartBoard for the first time on Tuesday in my ICT tute. My fellow Ed Heads will understand how sad this is. This is only made worse by the fact that I've previously only ever seen a SmartBoard used to screen a DVD. Hardly educational. Anywho, using the SmartBoard didn't make me feel very smart. It did make me feel like a complete novice, which... really, was quite appropriate. It reminded me of the time that we tried to teach my grandma how to send an SMS. Keeping up with rapidly changing technologies is a bummer in most jobs and is certainly not exclusive to teaching. I haven't yet decided if it is irritating or a blessing to have students who know more about technology than I do. But such is life, that's the way the cookie crumbles, that's the way this wheel keeps workin', hakuna matata, rah rah rah.
Ok, now that I have written these disjointed ramblings, I will continue studying. Peace out!
Thursday, October 22, 2009
I have a cold.
As the title so implicitly suggests, I have a cold.
Having a cold really is the pits. Yes, that phrase is from "Happy Days". I love "Happy Days". However, please do not be deceived. This will not be a happy post.
As someone who has had some form of ailment for most of this semester, I feel that I can speak with some authority on this topic. So, here is my "been there, done that, bought the t-shirt" list of things that I hate about colds:
1. Everyone has had a cold at some stage, therefore sympathy is hard to come by. A cold is not serious enough to legitimately complain about, however it is bad enough to make you feel doughy, miserable and useless.
2. It is difficult to sleep when you have a cold. When your nose is blocked, breathing through your mouth is your only option for survival. However, if you unknowingly attempt to breath through your nose you as begin to nod off to sleep, the ramifications can be quite severe. The lack of air to your lungs will serve as an abrupt reminder that breathing through your nose is not ideal in your current state. Training your body to breath through your mouth, and thus survive the night, may prove to be an arduous task.
3. Blowing your nose in public is an uncomfortable experience for all involved. People make strange noises when they blow their nose. Noises that otherwise would be deemed inappropriate in public settings. Whether you're a squeaker or a honker, you sound ridiculous. However, there is nothing worse than someone who noticeably has a cold yet refuses to blow their nose. This leads us to point number four.
4. Sniffing raucously in public. This can be quite nauseating, however admittedly unavoidable at times. The ridiculous noise that you make when you blow your nose really is preferable to the obscene sound of you intermittently snorting and blorting. For goodness sake, think of the poor unfortunate people who share your unpleasant company and find a tissue. If there are no tissues available, this leads us to point number five.
5. If, for whatever reason, you do not have access to tissues, walking around with a roll of toilet paper is nothing short of humiliating. Everyone likes to laugh at the girl with a roll of toilet paper by her side because she didn't have time to buy tissues and is acutely aware of how annoying point number four is.
6. Perhaps the most alarming point of all, is that no-one wants to hug you when you have a cold. As someone who relies on physical touch to feel like I am alive, this is certainly troubling.
7. Your voice changes when you have a cold. At the moment I sound like a nightmarish mixture of Barry White and The Nanny. If you are a guy, the deep and husky voice that a cold provokes may even be preferable to your normal voice. However if you are a girl... well... I could teach you a few basic words in Auslan?
8. When you have a cold, your once sharp, astute and capable brain that enabled you to possess a lucid understanding of life is but a distant memory. Instead, your brain has been replaced with dough, which is not conducive to, well, anything. You will find yourself saying "I don't know" at the end of most sentences, however due to point number two, it will sound more like "I dond ndow". When friends or relatives ask you a question, they should anticipate a substantial pause before you're able to elicit a response. And, even then, you will probably only utter the words "I dond ndow" in a deep, husky and barely discernable voice.
9. The cruel combination of all of these points makes you feel gross and unloved.
So, to my healthy readers, be kind to those of us who are of poor health. Do not ask us purposefully difficult questions, so that you may watch in awe as our brains threaten to explode under the pressure. Do not step away when we beckon for a hug. Instead, embrace us. Love us. We are people too.
P.S. This is my 50th post! Hurrah!
Having a cold really is the pits. Yes, that phrase is from "Happy Days". I love "Happy Days". However, please do not be deceived. This will not be a happy post.
As someone who has had some form of ailment for most of this semester, I feel that I can speak with some authority on this topic. So, here is my "been there, done that, bought the t-shirt" list of things that I hate about colds:
1. Everyone has had a cold at some stage, therefore sympathy is hard to come by. A cold is not serious enough to legitimately complain about, however it is bad enough to make you feel doughy, miserable and useless.
2. It is difficult to sleep when you have a cold. When your nose is blocked, breathing through your mouth is your only option for survival. However, if you unknowingly attempt to breath through your nose you as begin to nod off to sleep, the ramifications can be quite severe. The lack of air to your lungs will serve as an abrupt reminder that breathing through your nose is not ideal in your current state. Training your body to breath through your mouth, and thus survive the night, may prove to be an arduous task.
3. Blowing your nose in public is an uncomfortable experience for all involved. People make strange noises when they blow their nose. Noises that otherwise would be deemed inappropriate in public settings. Whether you're a squeaker or a honker, you sound ridiculous. However, there is nothing worse than someone who noticeably has a cold yet refuses to blow their nose. This leads us to point number four.
4. Sniffing raucously in public. This can be quite nauseating, however admittedly unavoidable at times. The ridiculous noise that you make when you blow your nose really is preferable to the obscene sound of you intermittently snorting and blorting. For goodness sake, think of the poor unfortunate people who share your unpleasant company and find a tissue. If there are no tissues available, this leads us to point number five.
5. If, for whatever reason, you do not have access to tissues, walking around with a roll of toilet paper is nothing short of humiliating. Everyone likes to laugh at the girl with a roll of toilet paper by her side because she didn't have time to buy tissues and is acutely aware of how annoying point number four is.
6. Perhaps the most alarming point of all, is that no-one wants to hug you when you have a cold. As someone who relies on physical touch to feel like I am alive, this is certainly troubling.
7. Your voice changes when you have a cold. At the moment I sound like a nightmarish mixture of Barry White and The Nanny. If you are a guy, the deep and husky voice that a cold provokes may even be preferable to your normal voice. However if you are a girl... well... I could teach you a few basic words in Auslan?
8. When you have a cold, your once sharp, astute and capable brain that enabled you to possess a lucid understanding of life is but a distant memory. Instead, your brain has been replaced with dough, which is not conducive to, well, anything. You will find yourself saying "I don't know" at the end of most sentences, however due to point number two, it will sound more like "I dond ndow". When friends or relatives ask you a question, they should anticipate a substantial pause before you're able to elicit a response. And, even then, you will probably only utter the words "I dond ndow" in a deep, husky and barely discernable voice.
9. The cruel combination of all of these points makes you feel gross and unloved.
So, to my healthy readers, be kind to those of us who are of poor health. Do not ask us purposefully difficult questions, so that you may watch in awe as our brains threaten to explode under the pressure. Do not step away when we beckon for a hug. Instead, embrace us. Love us. We are people too.
P.S. This is my 50th post! Hurrah!
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Dear FB Friends
To my wonderful facebook friends,
Please refrain from sending me invitations to join you in FarmVille, FarmTown, FarmLife, HappyFarm or any other imaginary farm-related facebook application.
I do not care if you have lost a lonely black, white, pink or psychedelic fluorescent multi-coloured polka-dotted sheep somewhere on your farm. I will not help you find it. As far as I am concerned, you are already a few sheep short of a paddock for wasting your time with such pish-posh.
I also do not care if a poor, ugly, socially-challenged duckling has run away from home and wandered onto your farm. I will not adopt the duckling. And no, sending me a picture of this glossy-eyed buck-toothed duckling will not evoke sympathy. It will probably evoke rage.
Nor will I celebrate with you when you "move up in the world of FarmVille". This probably means that you have been demoted in the real world, where we value face-to-face interactions and frown upon people who spend excessive amounts of time in imaginary worlds. There is quality medical care readily available to people with such troubling concerns.
Thank-you for understanding my request.
Kind regards, Carly.
Please refrain from sending me invitations to join you in FarmVille, FarmTown, FarmLife, HappyFarm or any other imaginary farm-related facebook application.
I do not care if you have lost a lonely black, white, pink or psychedelic fluorescent multi-coloured polka-dotted sheep somewhere on your farm. I will not help you find it. As far as I am concerned, you are already a few sheep short of a paddock for wasting your time with such pish-posh.
I also do not care if a poor, ugly, socially-challenged duckling has run away from home and wandered onto your farm. I will not adopt the duckling. And no, sending me a picture of this glossy-eyed buck-toothed duckling will not evoke sympathy. It will probably evoke rage.
Nor will I celebrate with you when you "move up in the world of FarmVille". This probably means that you have been demoted in the real world, where we value face-to-face interactions and frown upon people who spend excessive amounts of time in imaginary worlds. There is quality medical care readily available to people with such troubling concerns.
Thank-you for understanding my request.
Kind regards, Carly.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
The Cost of Fear
This is my second blog in one night. Excessive blogging is quite normal for someone like Nathan, however I rarely blog so frequently.
The reason that I am posting again is because of a news story that I recently stumbled across. The title of the news report is "Addict" has 15 abortions in 17 years.
There are lots of selfish people in this world, however this story really does take the proverbial cake. It appears to me that Irene Vilar, the protagonist in this horrible tale, has seriously misunderstood the profound value of life if she is able to knowingly kill 15 of her own children. I understand that, as in all situations, there were some confounding factors that fueled her abortion addiction. In her memoir, Irene attributes blame to a difficult marriage and an older, overly controlling husband. However, this line in her interview really did upset me:
"But (Irene) believes the availability of abortion saved her life as she would have found a way to end her pregnancies, legal or not."
I cannot fathom why the 'happy ending' to this story would be that through killing 15 precious lives, she was able to save her own. Yes, it is wonderful that Irene is alive and able to share her reflections from this lived-nightmare, yet it came at such a great cost. Abortion, by its very nature, does not save lives. It's primary function is to take lives. 15 children, each uniquely and wonderfully made. That is nearly the size of my grade one class at Vincent.
The question I would like to ask Irene is this: At what point did you realise that you could no longer allow fear and selfishness to murder your children?
For people who are considering abortion, I would firstly urge you to read Gianna. This is an incredible story about a little girl who survived abortion. She suffered many physical and emotional scars, yet she truly understands why life is so precious. Please read it. I own it, and I will happily give it to you.
The reason that I am posting again is because of a news story that I recently stumbled across. The title of the news report is "Addict" has 15 abortions in 17 years.
There are lots of selfish people in this world, however this story really does take the proverbial cake. It appears to me that Irene Vilar, the protagonist in this horrible tale, has seriously misunderstood the profound value of life if she is able to knowingly kill 15 of her own children. I understand that, as in all situations, there were some confounding factors that fueled her abortion addiction. In her memoir, Irene attributes blame to a difficult marriage and an older, overly controlling husband. However, this line in her interview really did upset me:
"But (Irene) believes the availability of abortion saved her life as she would have found a way to end her pregnancies, legal or not."
I cannot fathom why the 'happy ending' to this story would be that through killing 15 precious lives, she was able to save her own. Yes, it is wonderful that Irene is alive and able to share her reflections from this lived-nightmare, yet it came at such a great cost. Abortion, by its very nature, does not save lives. It's primary function is to take lives. 15 children, each uniquely and wonderfully made. That is nearly the size of my grade one class at Vincent.
The question I would like to ask Irene is this: At what point did you realise that you could no longer allow fear and selfishness to murder your children?
For people who are considering abortion, I would firstly urge you to read Gianna. This is an incredible story about a little girl who survived abortion. She suffered many physical and emotional scars, yet she truly understands why life is so precious. Please read it. I own it, and I will happily give it to you.
Letters From The Heart
There is something so wonderful about receiving a letter. I'm not just talking about the excitement of finding something other than a computer generated message from some local government twit in your mail box. What is captured in a letter lasts. When our memories fail, the words will remain.
Receiving a letter from a child is so beautiful. On the last day of my placement at Buddina State School, I was given 20 letters from my kids. Each letter is so precious and serves as a wonderful reminder of each unique child that was in my class. They are also highly amusing, so I thought that I would share some of them here. Bear in mind that these letters are written by 6 year olds, so they are riddled with spelling mistakes. However interpreting the errors is all part of the fun. I asked the kids to read their letters to me, so if you're unsure of what any of them say please feel free to ask.
Enjoy! :)
"Dear Miss Laird. I hop yoo hav a god tim bak at indglen (England, LOL!). I wil mis yoo and yoo wil mis me and yoo are the besde tesa I love yoo and yoo love me." - Jake.
"Dear Mis Laird. I am going to mis you. Mis Laird did you hev fun with us and you wor the bist teacher. We had the besd fun with you." - Shyla.
"To Miss Laird. I will miss you forever. Wiy are you going. I hope you have fun down ther. You will miss us wot you. It will be freezing there." - Abby B.
"Dear Miss Laird. To Criey (Carly! She knew my first name, cheeky little thing...). I love you. And I hope you had a good time here. And on youre bday I hope you get lots of game presins and fun. You are the best tisher. With lots of love." - Johanna.
"Der Mis Led. I hop yow hafa lafle rip (I hope you have a safe trip). I lik yoy sow mach Mis Led. I wil mis yow Mis Led. I luv yoy sow maeh." - Drew.
"Yo. ar. a. god. tech. I. kat. blev. theat. yo. ar. leven. I. wil. mis. yo. I. hoop. yo. well. kam. bak." - Asia.
'Dear Miss Laird. Miss Laird thac you for being my best teecha and I hop you hav a luvle chrip and I love you I hop you biy sumthing." - Paris.
"Miss Laird. I hope I see you again. You have been a nice techer." - Meaghan.
"Dear Miss Laird. You are the best tehca ever. I will miss you forever. You are the best one Miss Laird." - Abby D.
"Dear Miss Laird. I am going to mis you. You are a really, really, realle nice teacher." - Hunter.
And my favourite letter...
"Dear Miss Laird. I am going to mss you a llott and a llott and so much. I wich you cood come bak to scooll and you are the bessd tishuua. Plls I wot you to come back plleiss Miss Laird. And wyi kant you come back here. I want you for evu Miss Laird." - Zarian.
I hope those letters made you smile as much as they continue to make me smile. It is so precious to have a child write that they are going to miss you "a lot and a lot and so much". I'm learning more and more that teaching can be an incredibly hard job, yet these sorts of memories never fail to remind me why I love it so much.
Receiving a letter from a child is so beautiful. On the last day of my placement at Buddina State School, I was given 20 letters from my kids. Each letter is so precious and serves as a wonderful reminder of each unique child that was in my class. They are also highly amusing, so I thought that I would share some of them here. Bear in mind that these letters are written by 6 year olds, so they are riddled with spelling mistakes. However interpreting the errors is all part of the fun. I asked the kids to read their letters to me, so if you're unsure of what any of them say please feel free to ask.
Enjoy! :)
"Dear Miss Laird. I hop yoo hav a god tim bak at indglen (England, LOL!). I wil mis yoo and yoo wil mis me and yoo are the besde tesa I love yoo and yoo love me." - Jake.
"Dear Mis Laird. I am going to mis you. Mis Laird did you hev fun with us and you wor the bist teacher. We had the besd fun with you." - Shyla.
"To Miss Laird. I will miss you forever. Wiy are you going. I hope you have fun down ther. You will miss us wot you. It will be freezing there." - Abby B.
"Dear Miss Laird. To Criey (Carly! She knew my first name, cheeky little thing...). I love you. And I hope you had a good time here. And on youre bday I hope you get lots of game presins and fun. You are the best tisher. With lots of love." - Johanna.
"Der Mis Led. I hop yow hafa lafle rip (I hope you have a safe trip). I lik yoy sow mach Mis Led. I wil mis yow Mis Led. I luv yoy sow maeh." - Drew.
"Yo. ar. a. god. tech. I. kat. blev. theat. yo. ar. leven. I. wil. mis. yo. I. hoop. yo. well. kam. bak." - Asia.
'Dear Miss Laird. Miss Laird thac you for being my best teecha and I hop you hav a luvle chrip and I love you I hop you biy sumthing." - Paris.
"Miss Laird. I hope I see you again. You have been a nice techer." - Meaghan.
"Dear Miss Laird. You are the best tehca ever. I will miss you forever. You are the best one Miss Laird." - Abby D.
"Dear Miss Laird. I am going to mis you. You are a really, really, realle nice teacher." - Hunter.
And my favourite letter...
"Dear Miss Laird. I am going to mss you a llott and a llott and so much. I wich you cood come bak to scooll and you are the bessd tishuua. Plls I wot you to come back plleiss Miss Laird. And wyi kant you come back here. I want you for evu Miss Laird." - Zarian.
I hope those letters made you smile as much as they continue to make me smile. It is so precious to have a child write that they are going to miss you "a lot and a lot and so much". I'm learning more and more that teaching can be an incredibly hard job, yet these sorts of memories never fail to remind me why I love it so much.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Theology of Disability
I found this thought provoking link on one of Nathan's posts. Read it. Now. GO!
The writer deals with the issue of baptising people with mental disabilities in the Baptist Church. I think that he draws an extremely apt conclusion. Many of the comments that follow give way to a discussion on the inclusion of special needs people in churches more generally.
Before I go any further, I appreciate that as a special needs teacher aide, I am admittedly biased here. However, I feel that as a church, we frequently leave the issue of 'disability' in the "too hard" basket. In some ways that is understandable. Reconciling the existence of disability, and then acknowledging the implications that this has for a congregation is certainly not an easy task.
I suppose that I find it extremely disappointing when people with disabilities (particularly intellectual disabilities) are forgotten in the church. We often think that it is 'good enough' that someone brought them along to the service and sat them in the back row. At least they're there, right? Wrong. We wouldn't be satisfied with such minimal involvement and interaction with anyone else in the church; why do we think it's enough for people with disabilities? Please don't read this incorrectly, I'm certainly not suggesting that we should encourage a woman with high functioning autism to lead the pre-prep Sunday School class. It just breaks my heart to see congregations that are content to view people with disabilities as a disengaged presence. This issue isn't necessarily going to be addressed during the service, or even in opportunities that exist for people to serve within the church, but rather in how we love our fellow brothers and sisters. There are a number of adults and children with special needs in our church. I often wonder how many people know their names, or even acknowledge their presence. That said, there are also so many wonderful loving people in our congregation who actively love our brothers and sisters with disabilities... yet it shouldn't stop with them.
I realise that some may believe that their efforts to show love to people with disabilities are of little effect, and therefore not worth the time... but this really is a myth. The ability of many people with intellectual disabilities to understand and therefore show love is incredible. You need only spend one day in my job to understand this. When I am working in the grade one class at Vincent, my role is to shepherd the children in the class with special needs. One of the little boys I look after is functioning at the mental age of approximately 2 and a half years old. When this little boy blows me a kiss and signs "I love you" with the most basic of Auslan signs, it truly makes my heart melt. Some would say that he is simply mimicking modelled behaviours, however I think that the smile on his face and the glimmer in his eyes would beg to differ.
I realise that this post hasn't actually discussed a theology of disability. This is partly because I am still figuring it out in my own head, and partly because I have a history test in two hours and have rambled on for long enough. I suppose that the take home message would be that we need to be more proactive in showing love to people with disabilities in our congregations. Have another read of 1 Corinthians 13 if you're unsure of what this should look like. This passage isn't just applicable to wedding ceremonies.
I'd love to hear your thoughts or outbursts on this issue :)
The writer deals with the issue of baptising people with mental disabilities in the Baptist Church. I think that he draws an extremely apt conclusion. Many of the comments that follow give way to a discussion on the inclusion of special needs people in churches more generally.
Before I go any further, I appreciate that as a special needs teacher aide, I am admittedly biased here. However, I feel that as a church, we frequently leave the issue of 'disability' in the "too hard" basket. In some ways that is understandable. Reconciling the existence of disability, and then acknowledging the implications that this has for a congregation is certainly not an easy task.
I suppose that I find it extremely disappointing when people with disabilities (particularly intellectual disabilities) are forgotten in the church. We often think that it is 'good enough' that someone brought them along to the service and sat them in the back row. At least they're there, right? Wrong. We wouldn't be satisfied with such minimal involvement and interaction with anyone else in the church; why do we think it's enough for people with disabilities? Please don't read this incorrectly, I'm certainly not suggesting that we should encourage a woman with high functioning autism to lead the pre-prep Sunday School class. It just breaks my heart to see congregations that are content to view people with disabilities as a disengaged presence. This issue isn't necessarily going to be addressed during the service, or even in opportunities that exist for people to serve within the church, but rather in how we love our fellow brothers and sisters. There are a number of adults and children with special needs in our church. I often wonder how many people know their names, or even acknowledge their presence. That said, there are also so many wonderful loving people in our congregation who actively love our brothers and sisters with disabilities... yet it shouldn't stop with them.
I realise that some may believe that their efforts to show love to people with disabilities are of little effect, and therefore not worth the time... but this really is a myth. The ability of many people with intellectual disabilities to understand and therefore show love is incredible. You need only spend one day in my job to understand this. When I am working in the grade one class at Vincent, my role is to shepherd the children in the class with special needs. One of the little boys I look after is functioning at the mental age of approximately 2 and a half years old. When this little boy blows me a kiss and signs "I love you" with the most basic of Auslan signs, it truly makes my heart melt. Some would say that he is simply mimicking modelled behaviours, however I think that the smile on his face and the glimmer in his eyes would beg to differ.
I realise that this post hasn't actually discussed a theology of disability. This is partly because I am still figuring it out in my own head, and partly because I have a history test in two hours and have rambled on for long enough. I suppose that the take home message would be that we need to be more proactive in showing love to people with disabilities in our congregations. Have another read of 1 Corinthians 13 if you're unsure of what this should look like. This passage isn't just applicable to wedding ceremonies.
I'd love to hear your thoughts or outbursts on this issue :)
Monday, September 28, 2009
The "L" Word (and I'm not talking about love....)
Yes, another blog post. Can you tell that I am avoiding my assignments? This post was originally going to be a response to a note that Alex posted on facebook, however apparently what I wanted to say was beyond the scope of the comments box, so I decided to write it here instead.
The goal of Alex's note was to discuss the importance of male leadership, and the detriment of lust to such leadership. The note was aimed at men, and I'm sure that it would have been very helpful. Recently our church has been doing a series on sexual discipleship. A lot of good things have come from these sermons, and it's been so encouraging to see people begin to deal with issues that eat away at the core of their being. I have to admit, it has been emotionally exhausting, particularly as a woman. Far too many people that I love have suffered from sexual abuse or misuse, and I believe that this kind of abuse is unique in the damage that it wrecks on someone's life. But I digress. I was keen to comment on Alex's remarks about lust from a female point of view.
Within much of the teaching that Christians receive on lust, the common theme is that men are wired to be visually stimulated, and women are wired to be emotionally stimulated. Before I go on, please understand that I completely agree with this. Calvin Roy, who spoke on Sunday night, made a comparison between pornography and Twilight (or, more explicitly, Mills and Boon), which I think was a helpful example. I know many Christian women who love the Twilight series because it is a well-written and engaging piece of literature, which is great. However, in conversations that I have had with non-Christian women who have devoured the series, the emotional thrill of the novel is a powerful turn-on. One friend once exclaimed to me "Oh! It's just SO sexy!". The way that God has wired women is a good and beautiful thing, if it is kept within the covenant of marriage and is used to serve the purpose for which it was created. Yet this is frequently abused. In failing to control our hearts, women fail to "take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ" (2 Corinthians 10:5).
Whilst I agree with this teaching (that men are predominant visually stimulated and women emotionally stimulated), I think that it comes at the risk of neglecting the reality that women are also visually stimulated. It's important to understand that this operates very differently in women, yet it shouldn't be ignored. The main way that we are turned on or captivated is through our thoughts and emotions - therefore it is easier for women to shift our visually stimulated feelings back into 2nd gear, and in the same motion shift our emotions straight into 5th. Yet God has created women to be emotionally stirred by what she sees, even if it's to a lesser degree than men. You need only spend 10 minutes with a group of non-Christian women* in a public setting to realise that women can be vulgar. They tarnish their integrity and feminine beauty by looking upon men in a way that satisfies their visual lust. They forget that these men are somebody's son, not a boy-toy (I really hate that phrase, but I think it's applicable here). Many women feel justified in commenting about men in a lustful way because they frequently are subjected to inappropriate comments by men. I know acutely how horrible this is, but it's part of the pain that we experience as women in a fallen world. This kind of treatment certainly does not provoke me to look upon my brothers inappropriately. It is so wonderful to know that it is certainly by no strength of our own that we are able to control sinful desires.
In Alex's note, he mentioned Matthew 5:29-30: "If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your body to go into hell".
Girls, this certainly isn't just applicable to men. This passage really speaks to how imperative it is to separate ourselves from sin. Visual lust is certainly an issue for women, even though it manifests itself more powerfully in men. God has called His daughters to be women of unfading beauty. To possess a beauty that lasts. We don't need to captivate the lusts of our brothers, nor do we need to desire emotional or visual satisfaction from our brothers. Rather it is the beauty of a "gentle and quiet spirit which is of great worth in God's sight". 1 Peter 3: 5 says "For this is the way that holy women of the past who put their hope in God used to make themselves beautiful". How wonderful that our Father is captivated by our sight. How wonderful that we can place our hope in the strong and loving hands of our Father. Why would we crave to be in the sight of anyone else?
*Just a little disclaimer.. this obviously isn't applicable to all non-Christian women, it was merely an example from experiences that I have had.
The goal of Alex's note was to discuss the importance of male leadership, and the detriment of lust to such leadership. The note was aimed at men, and I'm sure that it would have been very helpful. Recently our church has been doing a series on sexual discipleship. A lot of good things have come from these sermons, and it's been so encouraging to see people begin to deal with issues that eat away at the core of their being. I have to admit, it has been emotionally exhausting, particularly as a woman. Far too many people that I love have suffered from sexual abuse or misuse, and I believe that this kind of abuse is unique in the damage that it wrecks on someone's life. But I digress. I was keen to comment on Alex's remarks about lust from a female point of view.
Within much of the teaching that Christians receive on lust, the common theme is that men are wired to be visually stimulated, and women are wired to be emotionally stimulated. Before I go on, please understand that I completely agree with this. Calvin Roy, who spoke on Sunday night, made a comparison between pornography and Twilight (or, more explicitly, Mills and Boon), which I think was a helpful example. I know many Christian women who love the Twilight series because it is a well-written and engaging piece of literature, which is great. However, in conversations that I have had with non-Christian women who have devoured the series, the emotional thrill of the novel is a powerful turn-on. One friend once exclaimed to me "Oh! It's just SO sexy!". The way that God has wired women is a good and beautiful thing, if it is kept within the covenant of marriage and is used to serve the purpose for which it was created. Yet this is frequently abused. In failing to control our hearts, women fail to "take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ" (2 Corinthians 10:5).
Whilst I agree with this teaching (that men are predominant visually stimulated and women emotionally stimulated), I think that it comes at the risk of neglecting the reality that women are also visually stimulated. It's important to understand that this operates very differently in women, yet it shouldn't be ignored. The main way that we are turned on or captivated is through our thoughts and emotions - therefore it is easier for women to shift our visually stimulated feelings back into 2nd gear, and in the same motion shift our emotions straight into 5th. Yet God has created women to be emotionally stirred by what she sees, even if it's to a lesser degree than men. You need only spend 10 minutes with a group of non-Christian women* in a public setting to realise that women can be vulgar. They tarnish their integrity and feminine beauty by looking upon men in a way that satisfies their visual lust. They forget that these men are somebody's son, not a boy-toy (I really hate that phrase, but I think it's applicable here). Many women feel justified in commenting about men in a lustful way because they frequently are subjected to inappropriate comments by men. I know acutely how horrible this is, but it's part of the pain that we experience as women in a fallen world. This kind of treatment certainly does not provoke me to look upon my brothers inappropriately. It is so wonderful to know that it is certainly by no strength of our own that we are able to control sinful desires.
In Alex's note, he mentioned Matthew 5:29-30: "If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your body to go into hell".
Girls, this certainly isn't just applicable to men. This passage really speaks to how imperative it is to separate ourselves from sin. Visual lust is certainly an issue for women, even though it manifests itself more powerfully in men. God has called His daughters to be women of unfading beauty. To possess a beauty that lasts. We don't need to captivate the lusts of our brothers, nor do we need to desire emotional or visual satisfaction from our brothers. Rather it is the beauty of a "gentle and quiet spirit which is of great worth in God's sight". 1 Peter 3: 5 says "For this is the way that holy women of the past who put their hope in God used to make themselves beautiful". How wonderful that our Father is captivated by our sight. How wonderful that we can place our hope in the strong and loving hands of our Father. Why would we crave to be in the sight of anyone else?
*Just a little disclaimer.. this obviously isn't applicable to all non-Christian women, it was merely an example from experiences that I have had.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
The complicated wonder that is female.....
In many ways, I am your typical female.
I have no sense of direction whatsoever. It took me 45 minutes to find the Pye's house in West End and I often find myself lost in riverside gardens. I cannot read a map unless it is upside down, or at least facing in the direction of the the imaginary road in my head. I am terrible at parking. I can be overly-emotional, overly-clingy, and overly-dramatic. I will spend 10 minutes talking about a grasshopper, a cute little girl and a pencil and expect Mark to understand that I am explaining the content of my SOSE lecture, without actually mentioning the words SOSE or lecture. My thought processes are often convoluted, to say the least. I like flowers. I love coffee and chocolate. I feel cranky if I go for long periods of time without coffee or chocolate. I can't help but go all mushy when I see a beautiful baby. I frequently lack logic and rationality.
In a lot of ways, I fit the stereotype. However, there are many ways that I don't. One of my non-stereotypically female attributes was brought to my attention today. I don't particularly enjoy clothes shopping. Obviously this is partly to do with my Uni student budget, however I really don't derive intense pleasure, fulfillment and excitement from buying clothes. Today, I needed to buy a dress. Mark's graduation is at the end of the year, and the only formal dress that I own is a bridesmaids dress that I have already worn on two occasions (other than the wedding). Because this is a special occasion, I thought that it would be nice to buy something new. Plus, with Uni becoming increasingly busy, today presented a convenient opening for a spot of shopping. So, armed with a coffee, I headed to Stockies and entered the first dress shop that I came across. I had a quick squiz and noticed two dresses that were quite nice. I tried on the first dress: didn't like it. I tried on the second dress: quite liked it. I opened the dressing room curtain and said to the shop keeper "Do you think this looks ok?". She replied "Yes dear, that looks lovely!". That was good enough for me. I got changed, bought the dress (which was a great price, hurrah!) and left the shop in less than 10 minutes. I hadn't even finished my coffee. That, dear reader, is what you call efficient shopping.
Now, this isn't to say that I simply took the lazy option rather than looking for a dress that I really liked. This dress is very lovely. It's made up of beautiful colours and is a style that I quite like (long and kind of hippy-like apparently). When it comes to clothes shopping, you need to know what you are looking for and what you like, otherwise you will waste hours and come away poor and exhausted. There are about 1000 different kinds of dresses that I wouldn't even consider because they are either inappropriate, gaudy or strange; so I don't waste my time looking at them. Even as I write this, I'm aware of how 'male' this is sounding (i.e. logical).
If you are one of those women who enjoy shopping; more power to you. Lots of women enjoy the social bonding phenomenon that is window shopping. I'd much rather spend time outdoors. However I'm so glad that we've all been made so differently. God knew what he was doing when He only created one of me. All of that said... to my female readers; I would encourage you to try efficient shopping sometime. It may prove to dramatically decrease frustration levels and free up more time for coffee, chocolate, figuring out how to get your car out of the car park, and allowing for the inevitability of getting lost on the way home.
I have no sense of direction whatsoever. It took me 45 minutes to find the Pye's house in West End and I often find myself lost in riverside gardens. I cannot read a map unless it is upside down, or at least facing in the direction of the the imaginary road in my head. I am terrible at parking. I can be overly-emotional, overly-clingy, and overly-dramatic. I will spend 10 minutes talking about a grasshopper, a cute little girl and a pencil and expect Mark to understand that I am explaining the content of my SOSE lecture, without actually mentioning the words SOSE or lecture. My thought processes are often convoluted, to say the least. I like flowers. I love coffee and chocolate. I feel cranky if I go for long periods of time without coffee or chocolate. I can't help but go all mushy when I see a beautiful baby. I frequently lack logic and rationality.
In a lot of ways, I fit the stereotype. However, there are many ways that I don't. One of my non-stereotypically female attributes was brought to my attention today. I don't particularly enjoy clothes shopping. Obviously this is partly to do with my Uni student budget, however I really don't derive intense pleasure, fulfillment and excitement from buying clothes. Today, I needed to buy a dress. Mark's graduation is at the end of the year, and the only formal dress that I own is a bridesmaids dress that I have already worn on two occasions (other than the wedding). Because this is a special occasion, I thought that it would be nice to buy something new. Plus, with Uni becoming increasingly busy, today presented a convenient opening for a spot of shopping. So, armed with a coffee, I headed to Stockies and entered the first dress shop that I came across. I had a quick squiz and noticed two dresses that were quite nice. I tried on the first dress: didn't like it. I tried on the second dress: quite liked it. I opened the dressing room curtain and said to the shop keeper "Do you think this looks ok?". She replied "Yes dear, that looks lovely!". That was good enough for me. I got changed, bought the dress (which was a great price, hurrah!) and left the shop in less than 10 minutes. I hadn't even finished my coffee. That, dear reader, is what you call efficient shopping.
Now, this isn't to say that I simply took the lazy option rather than looking for a dress that I really liked. This dress is very lovely. It's made up of beautiful colours and is a style that I quite like (long and kind of hippy-like apparently). When it comes to clothes shopping, you need to know what you are looking for and what you like, otherwise you will waste hours and come away poor and exhausted. There are about 1000 different kinds of dresses that I wouldn't even consider because they are either inappropriate, gaudy or strange; so I don't waste my time looking at them. Even as I write this, I'm aware of how 'male' this is sounding (i.e. logical).
If you are one of those women who enjoy shopping; more power to you. Lots of women enjoy the social bonding phenomenon that is window shopping. I'd much rather spend time outdoors. However I'm so glad that we've all been made so differently. God knew what he was doing when He only created one of me. All of that said... to my female readers; I would encourage you to try efficient shopping sometime. It may prove to dramatically decrease frustration levels and free up more time for coffee, chocolate, figuring out how to get your car out of the car park, and allowing for the inevitability of getting lost on the way home.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Warning: Cynicism ahead....
Those of you who frequent Joel's blog will have noticed his disappointing lack of cynicism of late. In his most recent post, he even went so far as to describe his current state of being as "bouncing around in a world full of sunshine, lollypops and rainbows". Very disappointing. Those of you who know me will realise that I am an eternal optimist. Even when I am sad, I am usually happy as well. I once had two yellowy-orange pieces of fruit that I was convinced were oranges. They certainly couldn't have been lemons; they were clearly the shape of oranges and had a slight orangey tinge to their skin. However, upon eating the first "orange", I realised that it was the single most sour piece of fruit that I had ever eaten. But not to worry, I still had one more "orange", which I hadn't yet lost faith in, and proceeded to eat. They were both lemons. No doubt about it.
That somewhat convoluted orange/lemon story was just one example of how I tend to hope for the best in most situations. You know what they say; if life hands you lemons, hope that they are oranges. However, I also value consistency, and Joel's unprecedented lack of cynicism has thrown my understanding of life, the universe and everything into turmoil. Despite my naturally optimistic nature, I can't help but find this sudden change deeply disturbing.
SO. In an attempt to even things out a little, I thought that I would devote this post entirely to my own brand of cynicism. Uni has recently shifted into fifth gear and I don't see much opportunity for a reprieve over the next two months, so it shouldn't be difficult to think of some things that annoy me. Here is a list of things that have recently infuriated me for your misguided enjoyment:
That somewhat convoluted orange/lemon story was just one example of how I tend to hope for the best in most situations. You know what they say; if life hands you lemons, hope that they are oranges. However, I also value consistency, and Joel's unprecedented lack of cynicism has thrown my understanding of life, the universe and everything into turmoil. Despite my naturally optimistic nature, I can't help but find this sudden change deeply disturbing.
SO. In an attempt to even things out a little, I thought that I would devote this post entirely to my own brand of cynicism. Uni has recently shifted into fifth gear and I don't see much opportunity for a reprieve over the next two months, so it shouldn't be difficult to think of some things that annoy me. Here is a list of things that have recently infuriated me for your misguided enjoyment:
- It annoys me that for 3 years now, without fail, my lecturers gleefully inflict a mountain of assignments on me that are due directly after lecture recess, and have the audacity to ask "Did you enjoy your relaxing break?".
- My SOSE lecturer says "SOZE".
- My history lecturer says "histowy" (although, granted, he has a speech impediment).
- The American cohort of students in my history class know more about Australian history than I do, and they certainly appear more interested.
- American accents.
- Unit plans.
- The current trend for ECE lecturers to transfer our subjects to external mode.
- Unit plans.
- Dust storms.
- Having asthma in a dust storm.
- Having asthma and a cold in a dust storm.
- Having asthma and a cold and going for a run in a dust storm.
- Lacking common sense.
- People who visit coffee shops in groups and pretend to enjoy each others company whilst spending the entire time facebooking each other on their iphones. Lame.
- Instant coffee.
- Computers.
- Webquests/wikis/bubblus/imagination/delicious clouds/any other form of ICT tool with a stupid name that I am supposed to be able to utilise in an educational context.
- Unit plans.
- Education Queensland's relaxed stance on prompt employee payments.
- People who think that "group work" is an optional componet of group assignments.
- Lecturers who think that group assignments are actually beneficial to anyone.
- Discovering that you have a hole in the clothes that you are wearing when you are already out.
- Discovering that you have toothpaste on your shirt when you are already out.
- Having to make jokes about the holes in your clothes or toothpaste on your shirt to alleviate the awkwardness. Nothing like making an awkward situation less awkward by firstly making it more awkward.
- Forgetting to wear shoes to church on Sunday night at Calvary.
- Having people look at you as if you require additional intercessory prayer simply because you forgot to wear shoes to church.
- Having to wear shoes.
- Drinking a cup of tea whilst writing a blog and spilling it on the keyboard... rage...
- Coffee shop waiters who try to pretend that saying "Thanks a-latte!" isn't hilarious.
- Demonstrating to a friend in a coffee shop how patronising it is to click your fingers at the staff, and accidently summoning a waiter in the process.
- Having to apologise for accidentally being a jerk.
- Unit plans.
- People who insist on telling me stories about people who have died or been knifed in the face whilst in PNG. Really don't want to know.
- The unwritten social rule that says you are less of a woman if your hair is messy.
- People who say "Teacher's have an easy job - just look at all of the holidays they get!!".
- Australians who ask me where my accent is from (???)... perhaps I also have a speech problem...
- People who print pretty pictures on tissues. Why would you put a cute little puppy dog on a piece of tissue that serves no other purpose than to.. well.. I don't need to explain that one...
- Unit plans
Friday, August 28, 2009
What are you really hungry for?
Oprah really is a cultural phenomenon of our time. I mean really... her patterns of weight loss and weight gain alone are followed by millions worldwide. During high school Emma Pye and I would leave school during our lunch break, grab some drive-through KFC, and watch Oprah. Sometimes these KFC/Oprah sessions would spill over into our math lessons, but that's ok. These were wonderful times of bonding for us. Criticising Oprah and the myriad of guests who appeared on her show provided us with a common ground. Anyway... these days, being the mature adult that I am, I have a much lower tolerance for Oprah. Yesterday at 1pm I relented and turned Oprah on. I watched the episode for about 10 minutes and nearly burst my foofoo valve from annoyance. Let me explain.
Yesterday the feature of Oprah's program was over-weight teenagers. Not just a bunch of kids who had eaten one too many Oreos, but clinically obese children. The interviews with some of these kids were really heart breaking. The teenage years are a difficult time; this is just compounded if you are noticeably different. Oprah called in some of her trusted counselors and the team of enthusiastic Americans endeavored to get to the bottom of what these kids were REALLY hungry for. Because, as many of us know, food addiction is rarely just the result of an unbalanced love of food. I'm sure that sometimes it is, but often food is just a convenient outlet, or area of control, or source of pleasure, or whatever. The kids screamed and cried and shared their pain, their struggles and their anger. After a number of intense documented sessions, Oprah gathered the group of teens in her studio and asked them each individually what they were REALLY hungry for. With smiling glowing facing, each child gave Oprah an answer. "I'm really hungry for a strong constant male figure in my life". "I'm really hungry for acceptance". "I'm really hungry to be seen for who I am inside, not what I look like". Oprah's conclusion was that all of these children are looking for the same thing. They are looking to find who they are, and they want to be seen for who they are. They want to be known. Deeply known. Through Oprah's carefully orchestrated counseling sessions, these children were able to identify the holes that exist in their lives (e.g. constant male figure), and effectively attribute blame to explain and rationalise the emptiness that they experience every day. From here, they can begin to discover who they are, apart from the circumstances that seem to have left gaping holes in their hearts.
Now. I understand that the teenage years are a tumultuous time of confusion and self discovery. I understand how detrimental a lot of difficult circumstances, such as inadequate parent figures, bullying, etc, can be on young lives. I understand that every kid wants to be known for who they are and what is written on their heart, not for how much weight they carry. I understand all of this. However I can't help but wonder how much longer we as a society are going to keep telling our children that the emptiness in their lives can be filled by happy circumstances and by being actively validated by somebody else. Sure, every one loves happy circumstances and being accepted, but these aren't the core issues. These aren't the cause of the deep and penetrating emptiness that they feel inside. Being "known" by somebody else isn't going to take away that pain. Being able to tell the world who you are won't solve your problems. Sorry Oprah, but it won't.
Our Bible study at the moment is reading through 1 Corinthians. This week I spent the whole session lying down on the couch with my eyes closed because I was exhausted (re: viral meningitis), however I was still able to listen to what was being said. 1 Corinthians 8:3 says that "the man who loves God is known by God". Just let that sink in for a moment. Not only are we created by God and loved by our Father, but we are known by God. We are deeply, intricately, eternally, passionately and profoundly KNOWN by God. Healing doesn't come from the world knowing who we are, but from the realisation that we are already known. We are known and loved, even as we are sinners. There are plenty of teenagers with perfect bodies and wonderful fathers who experience the same emptiness that the over-weight girl on Oprah's show described. They are known by lots of people. But this isn't enough. I can't help but disagree with Oprah's plight for young people to "be known" by others and therefore "experience healing". We are already known. If only she knew how wonderful it is to be known by our God!
Yesterday the feature of Oprah's program was over-weight teenagers. Not just a bunch of kids who had eaten one too many Oreos, but clinically obese children. The interviews with some of these kids were really heart breaking. The teenage years are a difficult time; this is just compounded if you are noticeably different. Oprah called in some of her trusted counselors and the team of enthusiastic Americans endeavored to get to the bottom of what these kids were REALLY hungry for. Because, as many of us know, food addiction is rarely just the result of an unbalanced love of food. I'm sure that sometimes it is, but often food is just a convenient outlet, or area of control, or source of pleasure, or whatever. The kids screamed and cried and shared their pain, their struggles and their anger. After a number of intense documented sessions, Oprah gathered the group of teens in her studio and asked them each individually what they were REALLY hungry for. With smiling glowing facing, each child gave Oprah an answer. "I'm really hungry for a strong constant male figure in my life". "I'm really hungry for acceptance". "I'm really hungry to be seen for who I am inside, not what I look like". Oprah's conclusion was that all of these children are looking for the same thing. They are looking to find who they are, and they want to be seen for who they are. They want to be known. Deeply known. Through Oprah's carefully orchestrated counseling sessions, these children were able to identify the holes that exist in their lives (e.g. constant male figure), and effectively attribute blame to explain and rationalise the emptiness that they experience every day. From here, they can begin to discover who they are, apart from the circumstances that seem to have left gaping holes in their hearts.
Now. I understand that the teenage years are a tumultuous time of confusion and self discovery. I understand how detrimental a lot of difficult circumstances, such as inadequate parent figures, bullying, etc, can be on young lives. I understand that every kid wants to be known for who they are and what is written on their heart, not for how much weight they carry. I understand all of this. However I can't help but wonder how much longer we as a society are going to keep telling our children that the emptiness in their lives can be filled by happy circumstances and by being actively validated by somebody else. Sure, every one loves happy circumstances and being accepted, but these aren't the core issues. These aren't the cause of the deep and penetrating emptiness that they feel inside. Being "known" by somebody else isn't going to take away that pain. Being able to tell the world who you are won't solve your problems. Sorry Oprah, but it won't.
Our Bible study at the moment is reading through 1 Corinthians. This week I spent the whole session lying down on the couch with my eyes closed because I was exhausted (re: viral meningitis), however I was still able to listen to what was being said. 1 Corinthians 8:3 says that "the man who loves God is known by God". Just let that sink in for a moment. Not only are we created by God and loved by our Father, but we are known by God. We are deeply, intricately, eternally, passionately and profoundly KNOWN by God. Healing doesn't come from the world knowing who we are, but from the realisation that we are already known. We are known and loved, even as we are sinners. There are plenty of teenagers with perfect bodies and wonderful fathers who experience the same emptiness that the over-weight girl on Oprah's show described. They are known by lots of people. But this isn't enough. I can't help but disagree with Oprah's plight for young people to "be known" by others and therefore "experience healing". We are already known. If only she knew how wonderful it is to be known by our God!
Monday, August 24, 2009
Under the weather....
One of the worst things that you could ever do to me is drain all of my energy, lock me in a house, and tell me that I can't do anything except watch TV, movies and sleep for days on end. I know that for some people this is probably the closest that they will ever get to experiencing heaven on earth, but I hate it. There is nothing worse than sitting on the couch listening to an old and expressionless ABC weather man suggest that society should invoke a fifth season called Sprummer to accommodate the warmer half of spring, when you could be out doing something useful. There is only so long that I can maintain the already loose grip that I have on my sanity under these conditions. Surely a mental break down of sorts is forthcoming... although I don't think that I have the energy for a mental break down...
Just to back-track a little, I've been unwell for the past 5 or so days. I am in desperate need of human interaction. Whenever I am visited by family or friends I have so little energy that the most significant form of communication I have is falling asleep on top of them. I'm sure that they know I appreciate their presence. However in a dramatic turn of events, today I've been up and about for nearly 2 and a half hours now, so I thought that I would celebrate by blogging.
I've realised recently that there are lots of amusing things about being sick. I've found the number of illnesses/diseases that I have been diagnosed with over the past 5 days very amusing. They have ranged from a cold, the flu, swine flu (of course), a financial investments seminar-induced headache (my initial self-diagnosis prior to ending up in the ED. No seminar is that bad), to meningococcal (my Grandma tends to panic a little) and viral meningitis. The range of 'suggested' treatments have included wet washers, hot water bottles, funny shaped pillows for my neck and a pharmacy worth of various drugs. I'd really just like a good cup of coffee. I think that my sister provided me with the most helpful treatment yesterday when she brought me some chocolate during her lunch break. You learn very quickly to sift through the legitimate suggestions and graciously ignore the rest. However, all of this has made me realise how cared for I am. I love that a ridiculous diagnosis here and there is a wonderful indication of genuine love and concern. God has blessed me with a wonderful family and friends, and I have so much to be thankful for!
Anywho.. energy is waning, so I will wrap it up here. Feel free to leave a comment, if for no other reason than indulge me with some form of human interaction :)
Just to back-track a little, I've been unwell for the past 5 or so days. I am in desperate need of human interaction. Whenever I am visited by family or friends I have so little energy that the most significant form of communication I have is falling asleep on top of them. I'm sure that they know I appreciate their presence. However in a dramatic turn of events, today I've been up and about for nearly 2 and a half hours now, so I thought that I would celebrate by blogging.
I've realised recently that there are lots of amusing things about being sick. I've found the number of illnesses/diseases that I have been diagnosed with over the past 5 days very amusing. They have ranged from a cold, the flu, swine flu (of course), a financial investments seminar-induced headache (my initial self-diagnosis prior to ending up in the ED. No seminar is that bad), to meningococcal (my Grandma tends to panic a little) and viral meningitis. The range of 'suggested' treatments have included wet washers, hot water bottles, funny shaped pillows for my neck and a pharmacy worth of various drugs. I'd really just like a good cup of coffee. I think that my sister provided me with the most helpful treatment yesterday when she brought me some chocolate during her lunch break. You learn very quickly to sift through the legitimate suggestions and graciously ignore the rest. However, all of this has made me realise how cared for I am. I love that a ridiculous diagnosis here and there is a wonderful indication of genuine love and concern. God has blessed me with a wonderful family and friends, and I have so much to be thankful for!
Anywho.. energy is waning, so I will wrap it up here. Feel free to leave a comment, if for no other reason than indulge me with some form of human interaction :)
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
No butts about it...
I have a sad story to share with you all. Before I continue, I might just add a disclaimer: This blog will serve no purpose other than to indulge my self pity.
Right. That's out of the way. Back to my sad story...
I have a broken butt.
Well.. not technically. Or at least not that I know of. I haven't been to see a doctor. Apparently "broken butt" isn't the correct medical terminology anyway. According to the PG version of a medical print out that Mark gave me, pain in the coccyx is called Coccydynia. I think that broken butt is a much more direct diagnosis, so I'm going to stick with that. If you have been following this blog, you will remember that I mentioned falling down the stairs on the yacht during our sailing trip. That was six weeks ago, and my butt is still holding a grudge against my lack of coordination. When I sit on a chair I need a pillow, otherwise I can't stay seated for long stretches of time. When I sit down to study or go to Uni I need to take pain killers first. The only reason that I haven't gone to a doctor is because, from what I can gather, the only treatment is carrying around a donut cushion. Mark suggested that I stitch a donut cushion into my clothing for convenience. I suggested that he was a terrible boyfriend.
Anywho.. the pain isn't unbearable, so hopefully this means that my butt (coccyx, whatever) isn't actually broken. I think it's just angry at me and spiteful and wanting to take revenge for making it fall down stairs. Please learn from my mistakes. Don't fall down stairs. Really. Nobody wants to be the girl with a donut cushion sewn into her jeans.
Right. That's out of the way. Back to my sad story...
I have a broken butt.
Well.. not technically. Or at least not that I know of. I haven't been to see a doctor. Apparently "broken butt" isn't the correct medical terminology anyway. According to the PG version of a medical print out that Mark gave me, pain in the coccyx is called Coccydynia. I think that broken butt is a much more direct diagnosis, so I'm going to stick with that. If you have been following this blog, you will remember that I mentioned falling down the stairs on the yacht during our sailing trip. That was six weeks ago, and my butt is still holding a grudge against my lack of coordination. When I sit on a chair I need a pillow, otherwise I can't stay seated for long stretches of time. When I sit down to study or go to Uni I need to take pain killers first. The only reason that I haven't gone to a doctor is because, from what I can gather, the only treatment is carrying around a donut cushion. Mark suggested that I stitch a donut cushion into my clothing for convenience. I suggested that he was a terrible boyfriend.
Anywho.. the pain isn't unbearable, so hopefully this means that my butt (coccyx, whatever) isn't actually broken. I think it's just angry at me and spiteful and wanting to take revenge for making it fall down stairs. Please learn from my mistakes. Don't fall down stairs. Really. Nobody wants to be the girl with a donut cushion sewn into her jeans.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Student mode....
Today is the first day of semester two. I'm finding that I'm still very much in teacher mode, and therefore making the transition back into student mode is a little difficult. That said, love my kids as I do, it is a nice change to not have to watch 27 six year olds simultaneously. It really is very exhausting. Anywho, like many things in life, some of which I have previously written about in this blog, I am realising that I also have a routine that I follow on the first day of Uni.
Typically, I spend the morning of the first day finding the room codes that my classes will be held in and locating the rooms on a map of JCU. I really struggle with the JCU interactive map because you can't turn it upside down; and as every woman knows, this is the only way that a map can be read. Ideally I would have done this task on the weekend, however it often is left until Monday morning as the weekend is spent recovering from placement. After this I drive to my first class. I'm usually late, but only a little bit late, and it's the stupid interactive map's fault anyway. I walk into the room and take a seat towards the front, because I am far too easily distracted to sit at the back. I then turn to the person seated next to me and ask the same question that I ask at the beginning of every semester; "What class is this?". It takes every ounce of my organisational ability to sit myself down in the right room at roughly the right time... remembering the name of the class is asking too much. I then sit for 50 minutes, focusing all of my energy on listening to what is being said, before performing this sequence of events all over again in the next lecture.
While I was enduring today's SOSE lecture, I stumbled across a new breed of annoying student. I was probably already feeling a little bit annoyed and over-critical because my SOSE lecturer says soze instead of sose. For some reason that bothers me. ANYWAY. We're all familiar with out-spoken mature age students who insist on adding their two cents whenever the lecturer so much as pauses to take a breath. In primary/early childhood circles, these students are usually women. However. Today I discovered the male outspoken mature age student. There is a distinct difference between male and female mature age students in primary/early childhood classes. The female mature age students are usually Mums, and therefore at least have a basic understanding of how young children are wired. Male mature age students, on the other hand, do not. During today's SOSE lecture we were discussing various issues that arise from social and environmental studies that might interest young children. Our friend, the male mature age student in the front row (who by this stage had already spent his two cents as far as I was concerned), raised his hand and said "Six year olds are too busy trying to think about tying their shoes to think about anything else". Now, perhaps I am overly sensitive about comments like this after spending three weeks teaching grade one, however I happily joined the chorus of "tsk tsk tsk's" that erupted from the Mums in the front row. I'm not really sure how you could make it through two and a half years of primary or early childhood education and still have such a poor understanding of children. Now, before you call me a bra-burning tofu-inhaling feminist, I'm sure that not all men have such a naive understanding of children. I have many male friends who seem to understand children quite well. I'm sure that I still have a lot to learn about how children work. But really, at this stage in our degree, we should at least know that kids love to actively explore and question their environment.
End rant. I'm off to another lecture.
Typically, I spend the morning of the first day finding the room codes that my classes will be held in and locating the rooms on a map of JCU. I really struggle with the JCU interactive map because you can't turn it upside down; and as every woman knows, this is the only way that a map can be read. Ideally I would have done this task on the weekend, however it often is left until Monday morning as the weekend is spent recovering from placement. After this I drive to my first class. I'm usually late, but only a little bit late, and it's the stupid interactive map's fault anyway. I walk into the room and take a seat towards the front, because I am far too easily distracted to sit at the back. I then turn to the person seated next to me and ask the same question that I ask at the beginning of every semester; "What class is this?". It takes every ounce of my organisational ability to sit myself down in the right room at roughly the right time... remembering the name of the class is asking too much. I then sit for 50 minutes, focusing all of my energy on listening to what is being said, before performing this sequence of events all over again in the next lecture.
While I was enduring today's SOSE lecture, I stumbled across a new breed of annoying student. I was probably already feeling a little bit annoyed and over-critical because my SOSE lecturer says soze instead of sose. For some reason that bothers me. ANYWAY. We're all familiar with out-spoken mature age students who insist on adding their two cents whenever the lecturer so much as pauses to take a breath. In primary/early childhood circles, these students are usually women. However. Today I discovered the male outspoken mature age student. There is a distinct difference between male and female mature age students in primary/early childhood classes. The female mature age students are usually Mums, and therefore at least have a basic understanding of how young children are wired. Male mature age students, on the other hand, do not. During today's SOSE lecture we were discussing various issues that arise from social and environmental studies that might interest young children. Our friend, the male mature age student in the front row (who by this stage had already spent his two cents as far as I was concerned), raised his hand and said "Six year olds are too busy trying to think about tying their shoes to think about anything else". Now, perhaps I am overly sensitive about comments like this after spending three weeks teaching grade one, however I happily joined the chorus of "tsk tsk tsk's" that erupted from the Mums in the front row. I'm not really sure how you could make it through two and a half years of primary or early childhood education and still have such a poor understanding of children. Now, before you call me a bra-burning tofu-inhaling feminist, I'm sure that not all men have such a naive understanding of children. I have many male friends who seem to understand children quite well. I'm sure that I still have a lot to learn about how children work. But really, at this stage in our degree, we should at least know that kids love to actively explore and question their environment.
End rant. I'm off to another lecture.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
The Fire Drill
I have a new-found joy in life. It's called the fire drill.
Whilst I understand the importance of employing safety precautions such as fire drills, I am convinced that its main purpose is to give teachers a laugh.
I thoroughly enjoyed today's fire drill. It was my second highlight of the day. My first highlight was when one of my little ones turned to me and said "You're my best teacher Miss Laird". It really did make my heart melt. Anywho... today's fire drill had been scheduled for 1pm. The teachers had been forewarned, however the children remained oblivious. At exactly 1pm, a man with a hand-held siren and ear muffs hurried through the school, alerting the staff and students of the impending 'fire'. This man was enjoying his role far too much; the huge smile on his face hindered the seriousness of the event a little. However his evident amusement seemed to bypass my grade ones and the majority began to panic. Not able to help myself, I put on my serious voice, told my grade ones that what they were hearing was the fire alarm, and instructed them to drop what they were doing and line up outside immediately. Never before have I seen my kids move so quickly. The girls grabbed each others hands and the boys charged to the front of the line. I grabbed the roll and marched my class to the oval. We had barely left the classroom when Ollie yelled "I smell smoke!!" while pointing at a particularly dark and ominous looking cloud. Half of my kids walked the length of the oval pinching their noses and breathing through their mouths, to protect themselves from the 'smoke'. When we arrived at the centre of the oval, the kid's imaginations ran riot....
"There really is a fire, I really can smell smoke!!"
"This is really serious, someone might die you know."
"All of our parents might die!"
"Who will look after us if our parents die??"
"Who will drive us to school if our parents die??"
"We can drive ourselves to school and go CRAZY all over the place!"
"Nnoooo we can all walk to school...."
"I saw a man with a gun! There's a man walking around with a gun!" - (It was a cap gun to get the school's attention on the oval. Serious stuff for a 6 year old...)
By this point some of the girls were getting a little bit frantic and clinging to each other as if the end of the world was near. Thankfully the Principle quickly reassured the school that it was only a drill, and that they could return to class. Walking back to class, Ollie was still pointing at the dark looking cloud and trying to convince me that he could smell smoke. I couldn't keep the smile from my lips.
I'm sure that some teachers would argue that fire drills are highly disruptive, however I think that the disruption is worth it. Who doesn't love a bit of drama now and then? My kids settled back to work incredibly quickly after the fire drill; feeling safe and happy with the mundane routine of class work, so I wasn't worried.
I'd best get back to planning for tomorrow. I only have two more days of placement. I am so excited by how much I have learnt over the past 3 weeks, and I will really miss my kids once I return home. Although I really am looking forward to being back. :)
Whilst I understand the importance of employing safety precautions such as fire drills, I am convinced that its main purpose is to give teachers a laugh.
I thoroughly enjoyed today's fire drill. It was my second highlight of the day. My first highlight was when one of my little ones turned to me and said "You're my best teacher Miss Laird". It really did make my heart melt. Anywho... today's fire drill had been scheduled for 1pm. The teachers had been forewarned, however the children remained oblivious. At exactly 1pm, a man with a hand-held siren and ear muffs hurried through the school, alerting the staff and students of the impending 'fire'. This man was enjoying his role far too much; the huge smile on his face hindered the seriousness of the event a little. However his evident amusement seemed to bypass my grade ones and the majority began to panic. Not able to help myself, I put on my serious voice, told my grade ones that what they were hearing was the fire alarm, and instructed them to drop what they were doing and line up outside immediately. Never before have I seen my kids move so quickly. The girls grabbed each others hands and the boys charged to the front of the line. I grabbed the roll and marched my class to the oval. We had barely left the classroom when Ollie yelled "I smell smoke!!" while pointing at a particularly dark and ominous looking cloud. Half of my kids walked the length of the oval pinching their noses and breathing through their mouths, to protect themselves from the 'smoke'. When we arrived at the centre of the oval, the kid's imaginations ran riot....
"There really is a fire, I really can smell smoke!!"
"This is really serious, someone might die you know."
"All of our parents might die!"
"Who will look after us if our parents die??"
"Who will drive us to school if our parents die??"
"We can drive ourselves to school and go CRAZY all over the place!"
"Nnoooo we can all walk to school...."
"I saw a man with a gun! There's a man walking around with a gun!" - (It was a cap gun to get the school's attention on the oval. Serious stuff for a 6 year old...)
By this point some of the girls were getting a little bit frantic and clinging to each other as if the end of the world was near. Thankfully the Principle quickly reassured the school that it was only a drill, and that they could return to class. Walking back to class, Ollie was still pointing at the dark looking cloud and trying to convince me that he could smell smoke. I couldn't keep the smile from my lips.
I'm sure that some teachers would argue that fire drills are highly disruptive, however I think that the disruption is worth it. Who doesn't love a bit of drama now and then? My kids settled back to work incredibly quickly after the fire drill; feeling safe and happy with the mundane routine of class work, so I wasn't worried.
I'd best get back to planning for tomorrow. I only have two more days of placement. I am so excited by how much I have learnt over the past 3 weeks, and I will really miss my kids once I return home. Although I really am looking forward to being back. :)
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Shane
This is a story about Shane.
Shane is 6. He has huge green eyes, dark red hair and freckles on his nose. Shane is a good natured child and generally isn't overly disruptive. Shane is also the most pessimistic child that I have ever met. He lacks confidence in his ability to do just about anything; be it handwriting, addition turn arounds, or remembering the name of one of his classmates.
"Miss Laird, I can't do it."
"I don't know what to do Miss Laird."
"Miss Laird I JUST CAN'T DO IT."
Shane will often give up before he even knows what is required of him. Shane is frequently reluctant to 'have a go' because the fear of failure and inadequacy is so great.
Shane also craves the affirmation of others. If another child is given a compliment, he longs to be complimented in the same way.
"Am I working hard Miss Laird?"
"Do you like MY colouring Miss Laird?"
"Is MY hair neat for the school photo Miss Laird?"
It's really hard to work with a 6 year old who has such a defeated attitude. He is a bright child, however his lack of confidence is causing him to fall behind.
This week I was thinking about Shane and how I can encourage him. It's very easy to feel sorry for children like this. I'm often tempted to go straight to my default response of giving them a hug, but this isn't always helpful. Sometimes Shane just needs to be told to stop frowning and get on with his work.
This week will be my first week of teaching a full time load, which means that I am supposed to do all of the teaching for the whole week. Rather than resuming the foetal position, I am keen to have a go. Don't get me wrong, I am terrified... but I think that I have realised this week how easy it would be for me to think a little like Shane. I never want to approach work with the attitude of "I can't do this", because I know that God is strong when I am weak. I know that I am going to make loads of mistakes this week. There will probably be times when I feel like I have completely lost control of my class. This may be because I have in fact lost control of my class and they have tied me to a chair or something. But that's ok. It's what learning is about. Sometimes we fly, sometimes we fall. All the while we trust God and know that our fears can never consume us.
Anywho... that's what I have been thinking about today. I was hoping to keep this a little more updated but I really have been swamped. I hope that you have all survived without my rambling blogs. Peace out :)
Shane is 6. He has huge green eyes, dark red hair and freckles on his nose. Shane is a good natured child and generally isn't overly disruptive. Shane is also the most pessimistic child that I have ever met. He lacks confidence in his ability to do just about anything; be it handwriting, addition turn arounds, or remembering the name of one of his classmates.
"Miss Laird, I can't do it."
"I don't know what to do Miss Laird."
"Miss Laird I JUST CAN'T DO IT."
Shane will often give up before he even knows what is required of him. Shane is frequently reluctant to 'have a go' because the fear of failure and inadequacy is so great.
Shane also craves the affirmation of others. If another child is given a compliment, he longs to be complimented in the same way.
"Am I working hard Miss Laird?"
"Do you like MY colouring Miss Laird?"
"Is MY hair neat for the school photo Miss Laird?"
It's really hard to work with a 6 year old who has such a defeated attitude. He is a bright child, however his lack of confidence is causing him to fall behind.
This week I was thinking about Shane and how I can encourage him. It's very easy to feel sorry for children like this. I'm often tempted to go straight to my default response of giving them a hug, but this isn't always helpful. Sometimes Shane just needs to be told to stop frowning and get on with his work.
This week will be my first week of teaching a full time load, which means that I am supposed to do all of the teaching for the whole week. Rather than resuming the foetal position, I am keen to have a go. Don't get me wrong, I am terrified... but I think that I have realised this week how easy it would be for me to think a little like Shane. I never want to approach work with the attitude of "I can't do this", because I know that God is strong when I am weak. I know that I am going to make loads of mistakes this week. There will probably be times when I feel like I have completely lost control of my class. This may be because I have in fact lost control of my class and they have tied me to a chair or something. But that's ok. It's what learning is about. Sometimes we fly, sometimes we fall. All the while we trust God and know that our fears can never consume us.
Anywho... that's what I have been thinking about today. I was hoping to keep this a little more updated but I really have been swamped. I hope that you have all survived without my rambling blogs. Peace out :)
Monday, July 13, 2009
Prac Blogging - Second Installment....
Hello my wonderful readers!
I write to you from the Sunshine Coast, which will be my home for the next three weeks as I complete my third year placement. Those of you who may have read my previous prac blogging installments will be pleased to know that my "Learning Manager" badge is once again in use, and once again I have no idea what this title is supposed to entail. Even more concerning is that some of the teachers managed to call me Carla today, despite the clearly printed "Carly" written on my badge. They're probably the same teachers who still believe that the "3 R's" actually begin with the letter R.
Today was my first day of prac, and even though I am feeling bruised and weary, all in all it was a good day. Why bruised, I hear you ask? Belle, Cam, Lyle, Leah, Mr & Mrs Yates, Mark and I hired a sailing boat on the weekend (the rest of the crew will be sailing until Saturday, I had to return early for prac), and I managed to fall down the stairs on the first night. I'm not sure that my derriere has ever been this sore in my life. It certainly made todays four hour staff meeting more painful than it already was.
Today was a pupil free day, so most of my time was spent in meetings and planning for the week. I'm feeling very excited, because I am sharing my placement with a student from New York who is in Australia completing her final year placement. I'm really thankful that I will be able to partner teach alongside another student rather than having to handle 27 grade ones on my own. It was also very interesting to chat to Katie about how the American education system differs from the Australian system. Comparatively, we really have it quite good over here. However I was reminded today that Australians really do make a big song and dance about Americans when they are in town. As I was walking home from school this afternoon, I noticed that the large notice board out the front of the school read "Welcome to our student teachers from New York!". I'm sorry, but I don't remember reading "Welcome to our student teacher from Townsville!" when I first came to the school in April. Maybe I just missed it. Seems unlikely. Either way, I had a great time today chatting to lots of the teaching/cleaning/admin staff at school; everyone is so lovely and friendly which is so important, particularly being away from home.
Stay tuned for more prac related blogs... I hope to keep you all fairly updated.
Peace out :)
I write to you from the Sunshine Coast, which will be my home for the next three weeks as I complete my third year placement. Those of you who may have read my previous prac blogging installments will be pleased to know that my "Learning Manager" badge is once again in use, and once again I have no idea what this title is supposed to entail. Even more concerning is that some of the teachers managed to call me Carla today, despite the clearly printed "Carly" written on my badge. They're probably the same teachers who still believe that the "3 R's" actually begin with the letter R.
Today was my first day of prac, and even though I am feeling bruised and weary, all in all it was a good day. Why bruised, I hear you ask? Belle, Cam, Lyle, Leah, Mr & Mrs Yates, Mark and I hired a sailing boat on the weekend (the rest of the crew will be sailing until Saturday, I had to return early for prac), and I managed to fall down the stairs on the first night. I'm not sure that my derriere has ever been this sore in my life. It certainly made todays four hour staff meeting more painful than it already was.
Today was a pupil free day, so most of my time was spent in meetings and planning for the week. I'm feeling very excited, because I am sharing my placement with a student from New York who is in Australia completing her final year placement. I'm really thankful that I will be able to partner teach alongside another student rather than having to handle 27 grade ones on my own. It was also very interesting to chat to Katie about how the American education system differs from the Australian system. Comparatively, we really have it quite good over here. However I was reminded today that Australians really do make a big song and dance about Americans when they are in town. As I was walking home from school this afternoon, I noticed that the large notice board out the front of the school read "Welcome to our student teachers from New York!". I'm sorry, but I don't remember reading "Welcome to our student teacher from Townsville!" when I first came to the school in April. Maybe I just missed it. Seems unlikely. Either way, I had a great time today chatting to lots of the teaching/cleaning/admin staff at school; everyone is so lovely and friendly which is so important, particularly being away from home.
Stay tuned for more prac related blogs... I hope to keep you all fairly updated.
Peace out :)
Monday, June 29, 2009
Just for show...
On Saturday night I went to the Townsville show. It has been a few years since I have been to the show, however I always get irrationally excited. It doesn't matter that I am being blatantly scammed by bogan carnies with loud voices, lame catch phrases and over priced unsafe rides; as far as I am concerned it is still cause for excitement.
I have realised that there are certain traditions that I uphold when I go to the show. Buying a show bag is NOT one of them. Don't get me wrong, show bags are super exciting. Mark and I were chatting to a couple of little girls after watching the fireworks who were positively bubbling over with excitement at the prospect of riffling through their Hannah Montana show bags. However they really are a waste of money. I've only ever bought a handful of show bags as a kid. The last time that I voluntarily burnt cash on a show bag was when I was in lower high school. The show bag was titled... wait for it... "The Original Idiot's Show Bag". How appropriate. In my defence, the show bag came with a complimentary pogo stick, which is what initially caught my attention. I never did master the pogo stick. Quite a difficult endeavour. Anywho.. it also contained a variety of practical jokes which proved to be quite a bit of fun.
One of the traditions that I always honour when I go to the show is standing beneath The Zipper with my head pointed towards the sky, shivering with fear as I watch tiny people being thrashed about in those horrible little cages like rag dolls. Sadistic rag dolls. Maybe one day I will be brave enough to go on The Zipper. It didn't happen this year.
I also really love watching the fireworks. I was very impressed with this year's display, it really was quite spectacular. Fireworks are probably a bit indulgent, however I figure that if someone is willing to blow up thousands of dollars I may as well enjoy watching them do it.
The show is certainly a hoot. However the subtle transition from a sensible budgeting observer to a raving money-burning ride addict is easily made. Don't listen to the carnies. You may have to be in it to win it, but the minuscule feeling of satisfaction that you receive from putting a tiny ball into a clown's mouth and watching as it rolls into the correct slot in order to take home a giant stuffed yellow chicken is hardly a win. It certainly isn't worth the $30 that you gave away to have the privilege of feeding a ball to a clown. Bear in mind that I say this as someone who still loves the cliche idea of a boy winning a girl a giant stuffed toy after playing the hammer game. So boys, if you want to win your girl an over sized stuffed animal, make sure that it's from one of the more impressive side shows.
I have realised that there are certain traditions that I uphold when I go to the show. Buying a show bag is NOT one of them. Don't get me wrong, show bags are super exciting. Mark and I were chatting to a couple of little girls after watching the fireworks who were positively bubbling over with excitement at the prospect of riffling through their Hannah Montana show bags. However they really are a waste of money. I've only ever bought a handful of show bags as a kid. The last time that I voluntarily burnt cash on a show bag was when I was in lower high school. The show bag was titled... wait for it... "The Original Idiot's Show Bag". How appropriate. In my defence, the show bag came with a complimentary pogo stick, which is what initially caught my attention. I never did master the pogo stick. Quite a difficult endeavour. Anywho.. it also contained a variety of practical jokes which proved to be quite a bit of fun.
One of the traditions that I always honour when I go to the show is standing beneath The Zipper with my head pointed towards the sky, shivering with fear as I watch tiny people being thrashed about in those horrible little cages like rag dolls. Sadistic rag dolls. Maybe one day I will be brave enough to go on The Zipper. It didn't happen this year.
I also really love watching the fireworks. I was very impressed with this year's display, it really was quite spectacular. Fireworks are probably a bit indulgent, however I figure that if someone is willing to blow up thousands of dollars I may as well enjoy watching them do it.
The show is certainly a hoot. However the subtle transition from a sensible budgeting observer to a raving money-burning ride addict is easily made. Don't listen to the carnies. You may have to be in it to win it, but the minuscule feeling of satisfaction that you receive from putting a tiny ball into a clown's mouth and watching as it rolls into the correct slot in order to take home a giant stuffed yellow chicken is hardly a win. It certainly isn't worth the $30 that you gave away to have the privilege of feeding a ball to a clown. Bear in mind that I say this as someone who still loves the cliche idea of a boy winning a girl a giant stuffed toy after playing the hammer game. So boys, if you want to win your girl an over sized stuffed animal, make sure that it's from one of the more impressive side shows.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
"And so I'm sailing through the sea..."
As some of you may know, last weekend I road tripped to Proserpine to visit Mark, who is there for 8 weeks completing his rural prac. During his time in Proserpine, Mark has made friends with a lovely dentist named Basil. Basil has a sailing boat, and was kind enough to take us sailing around the Whitsundays for the weekend. For those of you who haven't yet sailed through the Whitsundays, get up offa that thang and add this to your bucket list, because it is just incredible! Deserted beaches, intricate coral, clear waters, blue skies, ocean breeze... I could go on; there is so much untamed beauty! We really had a wonderful weekend, and there is so much that I could write about here. However, for the sake of time, I thought that I would write a list of things that I have learnt from the weekend:
- If you begin to feel sea sick, DO NOT go below deck; this will only increase the wooziness.
- If you want to steer the boat, make sure that you have an acceptable degree of strength in your arms (or a willing boyfriend), otherwise your arms will quickly tire out and it will be difficult to remain on course.
- If you have long hair and are prone to day dreaming in the shower, do not attempt to wash your hair in the piddly shower on board the boat. This may lead to accidentally flooding the bathroom and having to endure the awkward process of emerging from the bathroom wrapped in a towel to ask Basil to please drain the excess water. Washing long hair in the ocean is a much better option.
- There are no words to describe the beauty of watching the sun set over the ocean.
- Some beaches consist entirely of white coral rather than sand. When the ocean hits the shore it sounds a lot like glass. It may also feel like glass to walk on. Still incredibly beautiful.
- Summoning Basil with a whistle to pick you up in the dingy from the shore is fun for lots of reasons.
- "Dang dingy dang di-dang di-dang dingy dingy" is a fun song to sing while climbing aboard the dingy.
- There are lots of fun songs to sing about sailing, however most of them have little to do with boats.
- A guitar is a vital component to a sailing trip.
- Deserted caves on deserted beaches have huge scary spiders and bats that make strange high pitched noises.
- Walking through 10 metres of sharp rocks is generally a good indication that there are more sharp rocks to come.
- If your keen-bean boyfriend suggests climbing around the rugged circumference of an island (consisting of said sharp rocks), you should probably ponder your response before excitedly exclaiming "Yes!"
- Three hours of walking on sharp rocks doesn't tickle.
- Having to turn back and re-trace your steps after conquering three quarters of the island only to realise that there is a significant crevice that you can not cross may be a little disappointing, although still a worth while adventure.
- Sand is reminiscent of satin after having walked on sharp rocks for three hours.
- Coral can be a strange and marvelous thing. Poking squishy slimy brain-like coral never gets old.
- Black forest cheesecake is an enjoyable way to make friends.
- Listening to Basil tell stories of all the wonderful places that he has sailed to around the world is a perfect way to pass time.
- There are so many beautiful shells on beaches that you can take home to serve as little reminders of the gorgeous places that you have visited. This will only be dampened if your boyfriend thinks that you should have a shell quota to limit the number of shells that you take from each beach.
- People should be allowed to take more than three shells per beach.
- You can find a loop-hole in the shell quota by taking three shells and one gigantor piece of coral.
- Generosity shown by people who you have only just met is deeply encouraging.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Culture Shock
This will come as a shock to most of you, I'm sure.. but the truth is; I am not classy in the slightest. Yes, I know, who is this strange blog hijacker and what have I done with the real Carly. I will give you a moment to recover before I continue....
Sarcasm aside, classiness has never been a priority to me. My footwear reflects this quite well. I prefer to wear pluggers most places, and if I am not wearing pluggers I am probably wearing my beloved Connies with the abundance of holes. However, in a dramatic turn of events, today I bought a pair of shoes for the first time in about a year. They are colourful hippy slipper shoes that cost me all of $7.50. They are soft and I like them, although I don't think that the pluggers and sneakers will retire just yet.
Yesterday I was given another friendly little reminder of my distinct lack of class. Last Christmas I was given a gift voucher for a shop called Cue. At the time I had no idea what Cue was (you could say that I didn't have a cue....- get it? Cue.. clue... ok lame, sorry, moving on) and have since discovered why Cue isn't a shop that I frequent. For those of you who may share my previous ignorance, Cue is an upper class clothing store that stocks business wear for women. I don't really spend much time shopping during the semester, so now that I am on holidays, I thought I'd go and have a squiz. The person who gave me this very generous gift voucher was probably trying to subtly hint at the fact that a little class wouldn't go astray, which is ok... as previous mentioned it is certainly something that I lack. But I have never before been into a shop that is less 'me'. All of the clothes were so... dull. I counted four items of clothing that weren't either black, white or grey. How depressing. Even more depressing was the realisation that only one pair of slacks in the whole store was under $150 (which was the amount of the gift voucher and therefore all I was willing to spend). With the help of the stereotypical friendly rosy-cheeked Pommy shop assistant, we carefully took the pants from the rack (team effort) and I proceeded to try them on (no team effort). They were well made I suppose, although not at all appropriate for a school setting, which is the only place I would wear them. Actually, I'm not really sure that the tight-fitting tailoring was particularly appropriate for any public setting, so I didn't end up buying them. I left the shop assistant to put the pants back on the coat hangers, so as to not get any more of my grubby fingerprints all over them, or something equally horrifying, and left the shop feeling like a happy peasant.
Why a happy peasant? As potentially demoralising as these experiences can be, I always feel encouraged afterwards. Experiences like these remind me that my priorities don't align with the priorities of the world, and that this is actually a reason to rejoice. Our church and Bible study are beginning a series on 1 Corinthians and I was having a read of chapter 1 today. In this chapter, Paul talks about the wisdom of the world, and the Wisdom of God. Chapter 1:20 reads:
"Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?"
Worldly wisdom tells us many things. It tells us that prestige is a valuable goal that must be pursued at all costs (literally). It measures success through the lens of financial gain. It tells us that our classy exterior is intrinsically linked to our worth as capable members of society, and our ability to positively contribute. It tells us to boast in our achievements and flaunt our victories. Yet this does not align with the Wisdom that Paul writes about in Corinthians. Chapter 1:26-29 reads:
"Brothers, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things - and the things that are not - to nullify the things that are, so that no-one may boast before Him."
As many of you have probably experienced, I often encounter people who look down on the way that I live because wealth, class and worldly influence are not goals that I hold in high esteem. Many a time I have been told that I am foolish for not investing my money in things that will directly and often solely lead to personal gain; be that expensive clothing, holidays, technology, or whatever is the flavour of the month. I'm so glad that the Wisdom from God far out-weighs all of these things. So what is Wisdom from God? Verse 30 clearly tells us that Wisdom from God is Christ Jesus, who is therefore our righteousness, holiness and redemption. Paul writes in Chapter 2:1-2:
"When I came to you, brothers, I did not come with eloquence or superior wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God. For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you expect Jesus Christ and Him crucified."
I am so thankful that we have a greater goal than the priorities of this world. I am so glad that Christ has paved the way for us, and provided us with a hope, a focus and a direction. It's so easy to get lost in the values of this world. I'm as guilty of this as anyone. However I am so encouraged that even when I stray, Christ's love remains.
Sarcasm aside, classiness has never been a priority to me. My footwear reflects this quite well. I prefer to wear pluggers most places, and if I am not wearing pluggers I am probably wearing my beloved Connies with the abundance of holes. However, in a dramatic turn of events, today I bought a pair of shoes for the first time in about a year. They are colourful hippy slipper shoes that cost me all of $7.50. They are soft and I like them, although I don't think that the pluggers and sneakers will retire just yet.
Yesterday I was given another friendly little reminder of my distinct lack of class. Last Christmas I was given a gift voucher for a shop called Cue. At the time I had no idea what Cue was (you could say that I didn't have a cue....- get it? Cue.. clue... ok lame, sorry, moving on) and have since discovered why Cue isn't a shop that I frequent. For those of you who may share my previous ignorance, Cue is an upper class clothing store that stocks business wear for women. I don't really spend much time shopping during the semester, so now that I am on holidays, I thought I'd go and have a squiz. The person who gave me this very generous gift voucher was probably trying to subtly hint at the fact that a little class wouldn't go astray, which is ok... as previous mentioned it is certainly something that I lack. But I have never before been into a shop that is less 'me'. All of the clothes were so... dull. I counted four items of clothing that weren't either black, white or grey. How depressing. Even more depressing was the realisation that only one pair of slacks in the whole store was under $150 (which was the amount of the gift voucher and therefore all I was willing to spend). With the help of the stereotypical friendly rosy-cheeked Pommy shop assistant, we carefully took the pants from the rack (team effort) and I proceeded to try them on (no team effort). They were well made I suppose, although not at all appropriate for a school setting, which is the only place I would wear them. Actually, I'm not really sure that the tight-fitting tailoring was particularly appropriate for any public setting, so I didn't end up buying them. I left the shop assistant to put the pants back on the coat hangers, so as to not get any more of my grubby fingerprints all over them, or something equally horrifying, and left the shop feeling like a happy peasant.
Why a happy peasant? As potentially demoralising as these experiences can be, I always feel encouraged afterwards. Experiences like these remind me that my priorities don't align with the priorities of the world, and that this is actually a reason to rejoice. Our church and Bible study are beginning a series on 1 Corinthians and I was having a read of chapter 1 today. In this chapter, Paul talks about the wisdom of the world, and the Wisdom of God. Chapter 1:20 reads:
"Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?"
Worldly wisdom tells us many things. It tells us that prestige is a valuable goal that must be pursued at all costs (literally). It measures success through the lens of financial gain. It tells us that our classy exterior is intrinsically linked to our worth as capable members of society, and our ability to positively contribute. It tells us to boast in our achievements and flaunt our victories. Yet this does not align with the Wisdom that Paul writes about in Corinthians. Chapter 1:26-29 reads:
"Brothers, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things - and the things that are not - to nullify the things that are, so that no-one may boast before Him."
As many of you have probably experienced, I often encounter people who look down on the way that I live because wealth, class and worldly influence are not goals that I hold in high esteem. Many a time I have been told that I am foolish for not investing my money in things that will directly and often solely lead to personal gain; be that expensive clothing, holidays, technology, or whatever is the flavour of the month. I'm so glad that the Wisdom from God far out-weighs all of these things. So what is Wisdom from God? Verse 30 clearly tells us that Wisdom from God is Christ Jesus, who is therefore our righteousness, holiness and redemption. Paul writes in Chapter 2:1-2:
"When I came to you, brothers, I did not come with eloquence or superior wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God. For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you expect Jesus Christ and Him crucified."
I am so thankful that we have a greater goal than the priorities of this world. I am so glad that Christ has paved the way for us, and provided us with a hope, a focus and a direction. It's so easy to get lost in the values of this world. I'm as guilty of this as anyone. However I am so encouraged that even when I stray, Christ's love remains.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Churchisms
Some of the most humourous and enjoyable memories that you will ever experience often happen in church. Seriously. There have been many Sundays where I've found myself doubled over in laughter whilst sitting in church. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to be disrespectful. Churches consist of people; and the truth is that most people frequently do or say funny things. Church dwellers certainly follow this pattern of humanity. Communion is a wonderful example of a very serious and important practice found within churches that can often give way to the ridiculous.
A few months ago I was sitting beside Sara Fraser. Need I say more? Those of you who know Sara are probably already picturing her huge smile and beautifully genuine laugh. It was communion time, and the little bowl full of tiny bread pieces was making it's way along the aisle. As the bowl neared where Sara was sitting, she quickly turned in her chair and knocked the bowl straight out of the hand of the poor person she was sitting next to. Pieces of bread went EVERYWHERE! As a few of us got onto our hands and knees and starting picking up the bread, Sara passed the comment "At least we're not Catholic", to which I gave the obligatory overly loud snort-laugh response. She had a very good, if not hilarious, point.
A few years ago, my sister, Mum and I used to attend a church that preferred to give traditional church routines an alternative twist. On this particular Sunday, the elders had erected a large wooden cross in the middle of the stage and tied a large bread roll to the centre of the cross with a bit of rope. The church members were to file past the cross and tear off a piece of bread from the roll. It seemed a little bit random to me, but I suppose that's ok, at the very least the big lump of bread was quite clearly symbolic of the body of Christ. Anywho, as Mum went to retrieve her piece of bread from the cross, she pulled with a little bit too much gusto, and the bread roll dislodged itself from the cross and proceeded to roll down the aisle for the length of the church. Gold. Mum was so embarrassed, hehe.. I think the elders had to discreetly tie the bread back to the cross so that the rest of the congregation could continue on with communion. Guess who was once again laughing the loudest?
My Uncle tells a great story about when he and a friend were playing in the church music team back in the day. This was in a very proper old-school Uniting church where the people were very particular about things being done a certain way. Once again it was communion time, and the members of the music team were being served the bread and juice. Communion at this church required the congregation to tear an appropriately sized piece of bread from a large bread roll. My uncle's friend was served first. He gave the bread roll a tug, and only a tiny crumb-sized piece of bread came loose. My uncle had a bit of a chuckle at how ridiculously small his friend's piece of bread was, and then proceeded to tear off a piece of bread for himself. As my uncle pulled at the bread, he managed to grab an outer piece that was attached to the soft inner bread. When my uncle removed his hand, he realised that he had retrieved a long coiled piece of bread that was completely inappropriate for one man to devour for communion. As the server moved on to the next member of the band, my uncle looked at his friend's miniscule bread crumb, and then looked at his long snake-like coil of bread, and it was almost more than he could bare. As many of you would have guessed, laughing out loud at an old school Uniting church is certainly frowned upon. In fact even the smallest distraction or change in routine would be cause for concern. Although my uncle needed to laugh, badly. The church stage had petitions that the music team stood behind that lined the stage all the way to the room out the back. So my uncle swung his guitar onto his back, discreetly lay down on his belly, and army crawled along the floor behind the petitions (so as to not be seen) and went out the back room door, laughed until he could hardly breathe, and then crawled back onto the stage. From what he could tell, no-one seemed to notice his absense, and the communition routine could continue as usual.
I'm always encouraged when ridiculous things happen at church. I'm so thankful that many of my fellow brothers and sisters seem to have an abundance of crazy...and not just because it makes me feel a little more normal. Enjoying these moments is yet another way that we can show love to our family under Christ.
Feel free to share any stories that you may have here.. I'd love to read them :)
A few months ago I was sitting beside Sara Fraser. Need I say more? Those of you who know Sara are probably already picturing her huge smile and beautifully genuine laugh. It was communion time, and the little bowl full of tiny bread pieces was making it's way along the aisle. As the bowl neared where Sara was sitting, she quickly turned in her chair and knocked the bowl straight out of the hand of the poor person she was sitting next to. Pieces of bread went EVERYWHERE! As a few of us got onto our hands and knees and starting picking up the bread, Sara passed the comment "At least we're not Catholic", to which I gave the obligatory overly loud snort-laugh response. She had a very good, if not hilarious, point.
A few years ago, my sister, Mum and I used to attend a church that preferred to give traditional church routines an alternative twist. On this particular Sunday, the elders had erected a large wooden cross in the middle of the stage and tied a large bread roll to the centre of the cross with a bit of rope. The church members were to file past the cross and tear off a piece of bread from the roll. It seemed a little bit random to me, but I suppose that's ok, at the very least the big lump of bread was quite clearly symbolic of the body of Christ. Anywho, as Mum went to retrieve her piece of bread from the cross, she pulled with a little bit too much gusto, and the bread roll dislodged itself from the cross and proceeded to roll down the aisle for the length of the church. Gold. Mum was so embarrassed, hehe.. I think the elders had to discreetly tie the bread back to the cross so that the rest of the congregation could continue on with communion. Guess who was once again laughing the loudest?
My Uncle tells a great story about when he and a friend were playing in the church music team back in the day. This was in a very proper old-school Uniting church where the people were very particular about things being done a certain way. Once again it was communion time, and the members of the music team were being served the bread and juice. Communion at this church required the congregation to tear an appropriately sized piece of bread from a large bread roll. My uncle's friend was served first. He gave the bread roll a tug, and only a tiny crumb-sized piece of bread came loose. My uncle had a bit of a chuckle at how ridiculously small his friend's piece of bread was, and then proceeded to tear off a piece of bread for himself. As my uncle pulled at the bread, he managed to grab an outer piece that was attached to the soft inner bread. When my uncle removed his hand, he realised that he had retrieved a long coiled piece of bread that was completely inappropriate for one man to devour for communion. As the server moved on to the next member of the band, my uncle looked at his friend's miniscule bread crumb, and then looked at his long snake-like coil of bread, and it was almost more than he could bare. As many of you would have guessed, laughing out loud at an old school Uniting church is certainly frowned upon. In fact even the smallest distraction or change in routine would be cause for concern. Although my uncle needed to laugh, badly. The church stage had petitions that the music team stood behind that lined the stage all the way to the room out the back. So my uncle swung his guitar onto his back, discreetly lay down on his belly, and army crawled along the floor behind the petitions (so as to not be seen) and went out the back room door, laughed until he could hardly breathe, and then crawled back onto the stage. From what he could tell, no-one seemed to notice his absense, and the communition routine could continue as usual.
I'm always encouraged when ridiculous things happen at church. I'm so thankful that many of my fellow brothers and sisters seem to have an abundance of crazy...and not just because it makes me feel a little more normal. Enjoying these moments is yet another way that we can show love to our family under Christ.
Feel free to share any stories that you may have here.. I'd love to read them :)
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Be Still and Know....
There's nothing quite like stopping and being still in amongst busy-ness. Purposefully resting while all else around you continues to move at a rapid pace. Behind my house, along the river, there is a beautiful big tree with a humble wooden bench sitting beneath it's branches. I love this bench. Hundreds of people walk past this bench every day. They're usually in a hurry; with somewhere to go, someone to see or excess fat to burn. When things are particularly busy, I will often walk to the river and lie down on this bench for a little while. People stare at me like I'm mad. Seriously, they walk past with their heads turned, wondering if they should throw me a $5 note or perform CPR or something. The temptation to stare back at them with my eyes crossed and my tongue hanging from my mouth is very great, yet so far I have resisted. There are far too many negative connotations tied to people who lie on benches. During exams about a year ago I walked down to the river to lie on this very bench. An elderly man, probably nearing his seventies, was walking past on the pathway and stopped in his tracks once he caught sight of me. Still standing on the pathway, not daring to come any closer, he called out to me "What are you doing?". I had been enjoying a lovely daydreaming sess and was a little startled by the sudden interruption. I sat up quickly and explained that I hadn't heard what he had said. Still refusing to venture from the path of safety, he called out again "What are you lying down for? Are you knocked-up or something?". Ouch. I explained that I was taking a study break and felt a little tired, and he turned on his heel and marched off, muttering angrily under his breath about how ridiculous it was for a young person to be lying down during the day.
This wasn't a particularly encouraging encounter, but I still love that bench. It is hard and lacks pillows, so there is no risk of me falling asleep, yet it is still incredibly peaceful. Sometimes I feel so overjoyed by all of the wonderful things that God has blessed me with, that the most appropriate response to this seems to be to stop and rest in the knowledge that I am His child. Just to be still and know that He is God. For people who do not share this same joy, that is an odd thing to do. Why would you stop when there is so much to do? So many people to see? So many things to achieve? Yet there is so much value in just stopping, and being still, and praising God that He is good even when life is overwhelmingly busy. For those of us who are students, things are particularly busy at the moment. I suppose the purpose of this blog is to encourage whoever is reading this to take the time to be still. Just stop. Rest. Find peace in the knowledge that we are loved unconditionally. That God is in control. Please know that I say this knowing that I myself do it very poorly. Scheduling in rest feels like an odd thing to do when there is so much work looming over my head. But it is essential. There is nothing more energising than acknowledging that we are living for something far greater than the busy-ness of this world.
On that note.. I'm off to do some last minute revision for today's exam. All the best for those who are drowning in the dark and murky Uni waters at the moment. Remember that it is Christ who sustains us, and whatever we do is for His glory.
Peace out, rock on, yada yada yada... :)
This wasn't a particularly encouraging encounter, but I still love that bench. It is hard and lacks pillows, so there is no risk of me falling asleep, yet it is still incredibly peaceful. Sometimes I feel so overjoyed by all of the wonderful things that God has blessed me with, that the most appropriate response to this seems to be to stop and rest in the knowledge that I am His child. Just to be still and know that He is God. For people who do not share this same joy, that is an odd thing to do. Why would you stop when there is so much to do? So many people to see? So many things to achieve? Yet there is so much value in just stopping, and being still, and praising God that He is good even when life is overwhelmingly busy. For those of us who are students, things are particularly busy at the moment. I suppose the purpose of this blog is to encourage whoever is reading this to take the time to be still. Just stop. Rest. Find peace in the knowledge that we are loved unconditionally. That God is in control. Please know that I say this knowing that I myself do it very poorly. Scheduling in rest feels like an odd thing to do when there is so much work looming over my head. But it is essential. There is nothing more energising than acknowledging that we are living for something far greater than the busy-ness of this world.
On that note.. I'm off to do some last minute revision for today's exam. All the best for those who are drowning in the dark and murky Uni waters at the moment. Remember that it is Christ who sustains us, and whatever we do is for His glory.
Peace out, rock on, yada yada yada... :)
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Free Indeed...
Recently a group of CUers have been participating in Alt-R. What is Alt-R, you may ask? Actually, I wonder what happens if you press Alt-R on the computer keyboard.... hmm, just tried it.. apparently it does nothing. I was half expecting my computer to explode or spontaneously break into song or something. ANYWAY.. tangent... Alt-R is a Christian Union initiative which involves a crew of us heading to the Cleveland Detention Centre for a couple of hours every fortnight to play sport with some of the lads. Last week was my first week of Alt-R, and it was a really great experience. My touch footy skills could use a little polishing, but it is such a fun sport. It was so encouraging to see that the boys seemed to enjoy spending time with us as much as we did with them. Even if that was only because our presence provided a break in the monotony, I still think that is a plus. Showing these boys love through our interactions and our willingness to spend time with them was a really positive experience. It was also an awesome reminder that it's God who saves His people, not our ability to clearly articulate the truth or to love unconditionally. How wonderful that God uses us for His purposes! Claire Ferguson had a long chat with one of the guards about some of his beliefs, which was really encouraging and reminded me that even though we are focusing a lot of our time on the lads, our interactions with the staff are also hugely important. I spent about an hour playing soccer with a few of the lads, and really enjoyed being able to talk with them about their lives. I was particularly struck by how willing they were to share their experiences and their hopes and plans for the future with me. They even asked me a few questions about my life, which was really great and I enjoyed sharing with them as well. I came away thinking "They were SUCH good kids!". And in the context of the time I spent with them, they were. They were respectful and polite and responded well to my questions. However, as I was reminded by my very wise boyfriend, many of these boys aren't necessarily 'good kids', and particularly as females entering the centre we shouldn't be naive about this. A few of the boys I was talking with only had a couple of weeks left of remaining in the centre. It was really good to hear about how they plan to spend their time once they've been 'released'. Some of the boys are going to continue with school. One of the boys is going to travel to Mt Isa where his big brother will teach him how to work on a cattle property. But one boy's response in particular has really stuck with me. When I asked him what he planned to do once he left the centre, he threw his head back and exclaimed "Just enjoy being FREE!".
So much of me wanted to take that boy and sit him down and explain to him in no uncertain terms what true freedom is. His excitement about the thought of being free was palpable. Yet the pure joy that accompanies true freedom is so much greater. I'm sure that this particular boy's definition of freedom would differ quite significantly from mine. Worldly freedom differs quite significantly from the freedom that we as Christians live in. Romans 6:18 says
"You have been set free from sin and have become slaves to righteousness".
The passage goes on to say in verse 22 "But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves to God, the benefit you reap leads to holiness, and the result is eternal life".
Worldly freedom tells us that we are free to live as we please. Free to live for ourselves. Free to follow our desires and our passions. Free to become our own god, and to direct the paths that our lives follow. Yes, it is wonderful to live in a free country where we don't have to answer to the powers that be and can live as we chose without fear of severe reprimand. Yet this is merely a shadow of the freedom that we experience as children of God. We have been SET FREE from our sin. We have been SET FREE to live under God, our Creator and our Father. We have been SET FREE to become more like His Son and to live eternally by His side. We have been released from the deathy grasp of sin and SET FREE to live in righteousness. Note that Paul doesn't say that we "decided to SET OURSELVES FREE because living under the rule of sin was a right bore". Paul says in verse 19 that we are weak in our natural selves. I don't know about you, but so often I am acutely aware of my inability to live in righteousness by my own strength. So often I stray, so often I stumble. Yet even as we were dead in our sin, we were loved by our Father, and made alive by His Son.
Verse 14 says "For sin shall not be your master, because you are not under law, but under grace".
Wow. That blows me away. How right it is that we praise our Father!
For those who pray, please pray that we will be able to share this freedom with the boys at Cleveland. This may show through our actions initially, but hopefully opportunities will arise where it is appropriate to speak to the boys about the love and grace that gives our lives purpose, meaning and hope. In the words of a beautiful song that I recently heard, "We're free indeed, we have been set free, Son has set us free".
So much of me wanted to take that boy and sit him down and explain to him in no uncertain terms what true freedom is. His excitement about the thought of being free was palpable. Yet the pure joy that accompanies true freedom is so much greater. I'm sure that this particular boy's definition of freedom would differ quite significantly from mine. Worldly freedom differs quite significantly from the freedom that we as Christians live in. Romans 6:18 says
"You have been set free from sin and have become slaves to righteousness".
The passage goes on to say in verse 22 "But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves to God, the benefit you reap leads to holiness, and the result is eternal life".
Worldly freedom tells us that we are free to live as we please. Free to live for ourselves. Free to follow our desires and our passions. Free to become our own god, and to direct the paths that our lives follow. Yes, it is wonderful to live in a free country where we don't have to answer to the powers that be and can live as we chose without fear of severe reprimand. Yet this is merely a shadow of the freedom that we experience as children of God. We have been SET FREE from our sin. We have been SET FREE to live under God, our Creator and our Father. We have been SET FREE to become more like His Son and to live eternally by His side. We have been released from the deathy grasp of sin and SET FREE to live in righteousness. Note that Paul doesn't say that we "decided to SET OURSELVES FREE because living under the rule of sin was a right bore". Paul says in verse 19 that we are weak in our natural selves. I don't know about you, but so often I am acutely aware of my inability to live in righteousness by my own strength. So often I stray, so often I stumble. Yet even as we were dead in our sin, we were loved by our Father, and made alive by His Son.
Verse 14 says "For sin shall not be your master, because you are not under law, but under grace".
Wow. That blows me away. How right it is that we praise our Father!
For those who pray, please pray that we will be able to share this freedom with the boys at Cleveland. This may show through our actions initially, but hopefully opportunities will arise where it is appropriate to speak to the boys about the love and grace that gives our lives purpose, meaning and hope. In the words of a beautiful song that I recently heard, "We're free indeed, we have been set free, Son has set us free".
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Who am I?
Who am I? Well.. that depends on who you ask. If you ask any of my peers at Uni, they will tell you that I am a student. If you ask my lecturers, they will insist that I am a pre-service teacher. If you ask my SBTE (School Based Teacher Educator) she will tell you that I am a student teacher. If you ask the ladies I work with at VECDP, they will tell you that I am a teacher aide. If you read the snazzy Buddina State Primary School name badge that I was given today, it will tell you that I am a learning manager. That's right, I am Carly Laird - Learning Manager. I'm sorry.. but what exactly is a learning manager supposed to be?? I always thought that it was somewhat amusing that JCU pushes the term 'pre-service teacher'. Apparently 'student teacher' has negative connotations that may crush the precious self esteem of teachers in training. However learning manager just seems a bit much. I'm not really sure whose learning I'm supposed to be managing. Probably my own, seeing as I'm still a student myself. That hardly seems worthy of a name badge title though. Oh well.. it's nice to feel a part of the staff, even if it is a little bit pretentious.
Today I had my first day of prac! I have a wonderful SBTE who seems to maintain a nice balance between being helpful and directed as well as chilled out and flexible, which works really well for me. As a whole my kids are pretty well-behaved, which is just lovely! Obviously there are a few boys in particular who can be a little rowdy, although by the end of the day they were fighting to sit at my feet and asking to hold my hand, so I'm not overly worried. Unfortunately this blog will be quite short because I have a fair bit of planning to do before tomorrow. Thanks to everyone who has sent me messages and emails while I've been away. It's so nice to feel cared for and missed even when I'm only away for a week! Peace out :)
Today I had my first day of prac! I have a wonderful SBTE who seems to maintain a nice balance between being helpful and directed as well as chilled out and flexible, which works really well for me. As a whole my kids are pretty well-behaved, which is just lovely! Obviously there are a few boys in particular who can be a little rowdy, although by the end of the day they were fighting to sit at my feet and asking to hold my hand, so I'm not overly worried. Unfortunately this blog will be quite short because I have a fair bit of planning to do before tomorrow. Thanks to everyone who has sent me messages and emails while I've been away. It's so nice to feel cared for and missed even when I'm only away for a week! Peace out :)
Monday, April 13, 2009
Prac Blogging!
It really has been quite some time since I have posted here! This was brought to my attention by the not-so-subtle pesterings of a few dear friends (I'm talking to you here Cam, Joel, Tim and Amanda). I have also noticed that both Joel and Phoebe have found the time to update their blogs. Therefore I am without excuse. Although in my defence, I feel that Uni is slowly killing the joy of blogging for me. I have never in my life had to write as many long and waffling reflections as I have this semester. Don't get me wrong, I definitely see the value in reflecting, however it can become a little tedious. But anyway, that's not particularly important, and it's certainly not the focus of this post.
I am writing to you from Buddina Beach on the Sunshine Coast. The weather is quite cool, although I am told that the only reason I feel cool is because I am a soft Townsville girl. Probably true. I am staying here with my family and I'm realising just how much I miss seeing them. I'm also realising how much I miss the sound of the ocean. It always makes me feel sleepy and relaxed. For those who may be wondering, no I am not just taking a holiday. I am actually here for a one week placement at Buddina State Primary school. I will try to keep this blog updated on all things prac, however don't be surprised if I haven't updated by the end of the week. I think that this prac will be quite full on, although I am feeling a little excited. I drove past my school today and I am looking forward to meeting my class of grade ones!
Today I spent a fair bit of time in the Brisbane airport, and I realised that I quite like airports. A minister once told me that he often goes to airports and just spends time watching people (he's not as creepy as he may sound) because he felt that this was a good way for him to keep in touch with his compassion for people. I can't say that I've ever done this, but I can understand his point. Airports can be emotional places. John Mayer sums it up well in his song "Wheel"...
"And airports
See it all the time
Where someone's last goodbye
Blends in with someone's sigh
Cause someone's coming home
In hand a single rose"
Goodbyes can be really hard. I am terrible at goodbyes, I really do struggle. It's nice to know that I am not the only one though. Airports are an interesting place to observe how different people handle goodbyes. Some try to make them short and brief and as emotionless as possible. Some cling to the person they are saying goodbye to and desperately try to memorise their eyes, their smell and their touch. Some cry unashamedly. Some awkwardly pat each other on the shoulder and stumble through rehearsed phrases such as "have a good one".
It's always fun to watch how children react in airports. They can be so insatiably excitable! "Look! The Jetstar is coming!!" It's so amusing when little ones run ahead of their bedraggled parents yelling "Quick we'll miss the plane quick quick qqquuuiiiccckkk!". I love the way that excitement in children is almost always accompanied by an overflow of questions; "Are we flying in the silver plane? Why aren't we flying in the red plane? Why is our plane silver? What are clouds made of? Why can we fly through clouds? Are clouds wet? What happens if the plane crashes? Will it be on fire? Why do planes crash? Do planes float?".
For some reason I also find the voice-overs in airports highly amusing. Today in the Brisbane airport there was a wide variety of accents; Irish, British, Aussie, some form of Asian, etc. I sometimes wonder if it is the same guy just putting on different accents for kicks. As I was waiting in the Brisbane airport today, a Qantus voice-over was reading out the surnames of the people who were late for their flight. There were about a dozen names to read out, and unfortunately for the voice-over lady, they were all foreign. There was a long and drawn out pause after each name, followed by stuttering and frustrated sighs. As if that wasn't bad enough, she then had to read the names a second time. The most enjoyable part about this little performance was that each name sounded completely different to the names given in the first reading. It was hilarious!
Flying is also fun, although I'm sure that the novelty would wear off quite quickly if I had to fly every weekend. Flight attendants can be quite amusing. I think that most of us have been on flights where there have been particularly charismatic and friendly flight attendants. They really do make the flight a much nicer experience. Unfortunately most of us would also have experienced flights where the cabin crew were less than friendly. I couldn't get any of the flight attendants to smile today. Very disappointing. Although one of them had a ridiculous hairstyle that essentially looked like someone had stuck a yellow donut to the back of her head, so I'm not sure that I would be smiling either. Prior to landing today, the captain advised the guests that the cabin lighting would be dimmed for our 'comfort'. Although within five seconds of this sentence leaving his mouth, the wailing twangy noise that goes by the name of Kasey Chambers filled the aircraft. If the staff had any concern for our comfort at all, they wouldn't have subjected us to Kasey. Other than that, it was a very pleasant flight.
Yes, I do realise that my first installment of prac blogging doesn't really have anything to do with prac, but that is ok. Tomorrow I will visit my school and meet the office staff, and I will meet my class on Tuesday. I am really hoping to not get sick. So far I have managed to get sick within a few days of beginning every prac that I have ever done to date. It's time to break the pattern!! I hope that you are all well... thanks for all of the comments, they are always really lovely to read! :)
I am writing to you from Buddina Beach on the Sunshine Coast. The weather is quite cool, although I am told that the only reason I feel cool is because I am a soft Townsville girl. Probably true. I am staying here with my family and I'm realising just how much I miss seeing them. I'm also realising how much I miss the sound of the ocean. It always makes me feel sleepy and relaxed. For those who may be wondering, no I am not just taking a holiday. I am actually here for a one week placement at Buddina State Primary school. I will try to keep this blog updated on all things prac, however don't be surprised if I haven't updated by the end of the week. I think that this prac will be quite full on, although I am feeling a little excited. I drove past my school today and I am looking forward to meeting my class of grade ones!
Today I spent a fair bit of time in the Brisbane airport, and I realised that I quite like airports. A minister once told me that he often goes to airports and just spends time watching people (he's not as creepy as he may sound) because he felt that this was a good way for him to keep in touch with his compassion for people. I can't say that I've ever done this, but I can understand his point. Airports can be emotional places. John Mayer sums it up well in his song "Wheel"...
"And airports
See it all the time
Where someone's last goodbye
Blends in with someone's sigh
Cause someone's coming home
In hand a single rose"
Goodbyes can be really hard. I am terrible at goodbyes, I really do struggle. It's nice to know that I am not the only one though. Airports are an interesting place to observe how different people handle goodbyes. Some try to make them short and brief and as emotionless as possible. Some cling to the person they are saying goodbye to and desperately try to memorise their eyes, their smell and their touch. Some cry unashamedly. Some awkwardly pat each other on the shoulder and stumble through rehearsed phrases such as "have a good one".
It's always fun to watch how children react in airports. They can be so insatiably excitable! "Look! The Jetstar is coming!!" It's so amusing when little ones run ahead of their bedraggled parents yelling "Quick we'll miss the plane quick quick qqquuuiiiccckkk!". I love the way that excitement in children is almost always accompanied by an overflow of questions; "Are we flying in the silver plane? Why aren't we flying in the red plane? Why is our plane silver? What are clouds made of? Why can we fly through clouds? Are clouds wet? What happens if the plane crashes? Will it be on fire? Why do planes crash? Do planes float?".
For some reason I also find the voice-overs in airports highly amusing. Today in the Brisbane airport there was a wide variety of accents; Irish, British, Aussie, some form of Asian, etc. I sometimes wonder if it is the same guy just putting on different accents for kicks. As I was waiting in the Brisbane airport today, a Qantus voice-over was reading out the surnames of the people who were late for their flight. There were about a dozen names to read out, and unfortunately for the voice-over lady, they were all foreign. There was a long and drawn out pause after each name, followed by stuttering and frustrated sighs. As if that wasn't bad enough, she then had to read the names a second time. The most enjoyable part about this little performance was that each name sounded completely different to the names given in the first reading. It was hilarious!
Flying is also fun, although I'm sure that the novelty would wear off quite quickly if I had to fly every weekend. Flight attendants can be quite amusing. I think that most of us have been on flights where there have been particularly charismatic and friendly flight attendants. They really do make the flight a much nicer experience. Unfortunately most of us would also have experienced flights where the cabin crew were less than friendly. I couldn't get any of the flight attendants to smile today. Very disappointing. Although one of them had a ridiculous hairstyle that essentially looked like someone had stuck a yellow donut to the back of her head, so I'm not sure that I would be smiling either. Prior to landing today, the captain advised the guests that the cabin lighting would be dimmed for our 'comfort'. Although within five seconds of this sentence leaving his mouth, the wailing twangy noise that goes by the name of Kasey Chambers filled the aircraft. If the staff had any concern for our comfort at all, they wouldn't have subjected us to Kasey. Other than that, it was a very pleasant flight.
Yes, I do realise that my first installment of prac blogging doesn't really have anything to do with prac, but that is ok. Tomorrow I will visit my school and meet the office staff, and I will meet my class on Tuesday. I am really hoping to not get sick. So far I have managed to get sick within a few days of beginning every prac that I have ever done to date. It's time to break the pattern!! I hope that you are all well... thanks for all of the comments, they are always really lovely to read! :)
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