My Spanish Journey
Originally published on 11/13/15
Clutching my heavy bilingual Bible and spiral notebook in my right arm, I slowly descend the steep hill to Real Life Christian Church. I open the door and my classroom is on the left. I peer in the small window to see if I am the first one to Bible Study. My teacher Keila is shuffling papers and welcomes me to class. Her beautiful smile accompanies a fashionista appearance complete with a colorful dress, short-sleeved cardigan and fancy earrings. Her 5 foot frame is ignored for the moment because I know what a firecracker she is. I patiently wait for others to show up so that I can soak up as much Spanish as possible as Keila speaks truth into our lives.
I can’t help but think back to the days that I started my Spanish journey. If I had known I was going to love Spanish, I would have started as a freshman year instead of sophomore year in high school. My first teacher was named Rita. Well, I named her Rita because Senorita was too formal. Every day, she wrapped her long, jet-black hair into a low bun. Every day we talked about the weather outside, the date, the day of the week, etc. We manufactured “flip-ups” to practice each week’s vocabulary. During class, I scoured the dictionary to look up the specific words that I wanted to learn how to say. This is like a secret code! Learning a new language still felt like school, but a little bit like navigating a new world all by myself.
With the goal of giving my little brother a nickname, I searched the dictionary for any obscure word that sounded affectionate but meant something completely different. I settled on Basura and brought the surprise home to my brother immediately. The word didn’t slide off my tongue like I imagined, but I knew it would stick if I was persistent. Sure enough, Basura became my little brother’s nickname and suited him just fine. It took him three months of feeling special before he learned the true meaning. (Basura=Trash). He wasn’t too happy that day when he came home and revealed his knowledge of the true definition. I laughed it away, and to this day I affectionately call him Basura.
Junior year Spanish flew by about the same way it goes for every high-schooler. As much as I learned in class, the downfall was certainly the lack of authenticity and latino accent. My teacher spoke Spanish like a white girl, and therefore I learned to speak Spanish like a white girl. I had no idea that my future would contain Spanish speakers from all over who spoke with gorgeous accents, stringing their words together like onesies on a clothesline! As far as the accent was concerned, I became quickly ill-prepared.
My church youth group planned a trip to the Dominican Republic and I signed up immediately, knowing their national language. We memorized dramatic performances and songs in Spanish. In my DR group t-shirt, I fumbled through a gospel presentation for several little kids, knelt down in a crowd. I nervously prayed for these kids as I spoke, touching their frail shoulders and attempting to release God’s love into their precious hearts. What a privilege that was!
As a senior, my third Spanish teacher was from Spain. Despite her scattered brained personality, she taught me all the difficult grammar in Spanish. I also waitressed that year with several kitchen staff from Mexico and practiced every week with my friends behind the counters. I may have slaughtered my sentences, but they stuck with me and taught me a lot. There is nothing like making a normally shy cook smile when he hears his mother tongue. Pablo was skeptical of me at first, but warmed up to me enough that I can say it hurt both of us when he returned to Mexico.
Unfortunately, the Spanish program in my college was terrible. I tested out of Spanish I and II with flying colors, and enrolled in another year of Spanish III and IV. The classes were on the computer, and the tests were ridiculously simple and did not compare to the real life Spanish that I had experienced and craved. I did enough to get by and pass the class, but wasn’t challenged. The craving continued after college, and I was always praying and looking for ways to practice and continue my Spanish.
Moving to Dallas was promising, and I eagerly searched for an opportunity to get involved. I found someone hidden in the background who ministered off campus in an apartment complex. I decided to give a week of VBS a try. The week was full of adorable kids, water games, Bible stories and rowdiness, but not Spanish. I was so disappointed. (I was also bummed because one of those nights, my car was towed. But that’s another story!) At the end of the week, as much as I loved hanging out with kids, it wasn’t the Spanish ministry I was hoping for.
As a nanny for a year, I loved spending time after school with Norma from Mexico. She had a sweet smile and we kept each other company. We talked about the families we worked for, and laughed at the kids playing soccer or rummaging around the playground. I held her hand after school one day when she confided in me. Through dreadful tears she told me about her sister’s husband in Mexico that was shot and killed with others in a shooting at the local market. Norma couldn’t be there to comfort her sister and help her deal with the financial stress of running a small business without her husband. The simple truth cut to my heart: Learning Spanish is not a way to get ahead in this life, it’s a way to reach the hurting. It’s a calling.
Dallas life comprised of a full-time financial job and more prayers for God’s leading. I volunteered in kid’s church and snuck a few words in with one of the 3rd grader’s father. His brown eyes widened when I said goodbye to Carlos in Spanish. From that day on, he always stopped to shake my head and encouraged me to keep practicing. That was all the motivation I needed to keep persevering, and I knew that my time was coming to break down the barriers and get to that next level. I stubbornly made up my mind to attain fluency, whatever it takes.
I remember standing behind Kevin at his computer when he looked at the website for Real Life Christian Academy after applying for a teaching position there. We snuck a look at the church website too, and I caught my breath when I saw Vida Real. Three smiling staff member’s photos struck me in the heart, and I knew this was a REAL possibility. (No pun intended). I tried to hold in my excitement because Kevin had applied for over 30 schools to teach in. Our next home could be California, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Ohio or Florida. What were the chances that we would actually land in Florida?
God provides. Real Life Christian Academy hired Kevin, and Vida Real got stuck with me! We showed up to the Sunday night service anxious with excitement. The service was beautiful, the music was upbeat and the people were welcoming. I got involved immediately, helping plan games for an upcoming event in the park. Kevin and I blew up balloons, played games with the kids, and spoke with the adults for hours. It was summer so the afternoon thunderstorm ripped over us, forcing us to stay under the pavilion longer. We had many encouraging conversations, and our involvement with Vida was confirmed. This was exactly what I had been waiting for.
A Place Called "Arcoverde, Brazil."
Originally published on 7/5/15
Kevin and I got married nearly five years ago. Ever since that day I can’t even tell you how many people have told us to travel. “You are so young! You don’t have any kids! Travel the world while you have a chance!” Each time I believed them. I heard the earnest plea in their voices and often they told me stories of regret soon after. Their sense of urgency and stress is surprising. It’s as if life has passed them by, and they need to live vicariously through young newlyweds.
As most of you know, we just moved from Dallas, Texas. We spent four years there, so that Kevin could attend Dallas Theological Seminary. However, the little bit of traveling we did was to major cities in Texas or home to each of our families. Again, I continued to hear pleas from everyone who found out that we didn’t have kids, yet. I knew it was nearly impossible for us to travel, because we were shelling out thousands of dollars in tuition, and I had a full time job with limited vacation days. It was…. heart-breaking. I didn’t understand God’s plan. I felt like we weren’t making good enough memories. I felt as if I were letting people down by not fulfilling the constant expectation that we should be off in Europe taking pictures by the Eiffel Tower.
A couple of months ago I was at a breaking point. I had such a strong desire to go to Brazil and visit David and Sarah on the mission field, and Kevin and I were stuck in an awkward spot. We didn’t know where God was going to take us or when Kevin could leave campus, but I knew that I couldn’t stay where I was much longer. Sanity was slipping away, and I begged Kevin to let me plan a trip to Brazil. Even if it didn’t happen, I needed something to grasp. Two weeks later I found CHEAP plane tickets to Brazil. I booked them. I told my brother we were coming. Then I sat back and tried to comprehend the mystery of this sudden decision.
Why do I have to convince myself that I must do what others want for me? Why can’t I trust that God has His own plans, and I must believe Him above all others? They mean well, but God knows me. He placed us in seminary for four years, because that was His perfect plan. Not backpacking, climbing mountains, kayaking in crystal blue water, or anything else. Dallas from 2011-2015 was part of His plan.
The truth is, we boarded the plane to come to Brazil, knowing that this was a sheer blessing from God. Kevin and I were in unbelief that it was actually happening until we were in the Miami airport, surrounded by Spanish and Portuguese speakers. The overnight flight was pretty miserable in itself, but then I got sick right as we were landing. David’s face was a marvelous sight as we navigated the airport in Recife, Brazil. We made it!
I was laying down in the backseat for most of the 3 ½ hour drive to their town. We stopped for lunch and enjoyed fresh juice and a full buffet of meat, rice, and vegetables. Soccer played on the TV’s, and we enjoyed simple conversation with my brother who I hadn’t seen in a year and a half. We drove through the hills and after awhile, David said that Arcoverde was just around the corner. The sight was breath-taking, and the “town” turned out to be much bigger than I envisioned! Arcoverde is nestled in a valley of gorgeous, big hills. Palm trees are sprinkled throughout the neighborhoods. Though there were no tall buildings, it truly felt like a city of opportunity and productivity. I became anxious to learn more about it and explore what lay between the hills.
Hugging Sarah, Evie (5 years old), and Anna Claire (2 years old) was thrilling. It felt like a family reunion, and they soon joyfully showed us our room. Our bedroom had a patio with the landscape of hills in the background. The windows were open, blowing a light breeze through the room. We immediately felt welcomed and so very loved.
Though we were exhausted, we were invited to attend a dinner at a friend’s house for some homemade chicken noodle soup! Of course, we wanted to dive right in, so we said “Yes.” Claudia and Jaziel welcomed us into their home and immediately peppered us with questions in English. I thought when David said they spoke English, I would be able to understand them. But with the lack of sleep, their heavy Portuguese accent, and broken-English-sentences, I reeeeeeally struggled. We laughed with them and did our best to communicate in English and enjoy the evening. The soup was fabulous, and they even brought out Coca-Cola for us, too. (Coca-Cola is a big deal to them).
Kevin and I laughed when we woke up the next morning and discussed all the different noises we heard throughout the night and early morning. Goats, cows, sheep, Anna Claire…. “Did you hear the gun-shots??” Kevin asked me suddenly. “Uhhh, Kevin. I think those were fireworks.” The sun had come up at 5:30 am, so 6 or 7 am felt MUCH later. We were very disoriented but rested up enough.
The next few days were filled with “firsts.” We went to the outdoor market—where I avoided going down the alley where they sell chicken…. A little too raw and creepy for me. It was a lot of fun to watch David and Sarah interact with the vendors amidst the craziness of the market on a Saturday morning. David carried a big watermelon, passing it back and forth to Kevin when he had to pay for other fruits and vegetables.
In the afternoon we drove up a mountain to a place where Roman Catholics built a “Way of the Cross” trail. Scenic and fun for the kids, we hiked with two other families for an hour or so. Midway through, we found some hard almond-looking things on the side of the trail. David’s friend Chico cracked it open with a rock and showed me his hand. He was speaking Portuguese, so I looked to David. “Coconut—he wants you to try some.” I ate it, and it was delicious! I enjoyed the snack and the kind gesture. The kids and I tried to crack some open, too, but it turned out to be a lot harder then Chico made it look. We hurried to catch up with the others.
My absolute favorite part of our trip was getting to help with the football practices with David on Saturday and Sunday for three hours. We showed up, smiled, and did whatever David told us to. Kevin got to throw the ball to running backs and wide receivers before they got hit with a “defender”- a big black cushion. He also played defense one-on-one while the boys practiced routes. I stood next to the QB and kept track of the extra football so the plays could run quickly. (Hey- it IS a super important job! J) Kevin sweat in the Brazilian sun, and I could tell sprinting each time was wearing him out a little bit. He kept going, and the boys called him a “Kenyan- because he doesn’t get tired.” Kevin enjoyed practicing with them, but he did his best to give them a run for their money. One time the QB threw it, and Kevin knocked the ball straight down. The Brazilian looked at Kevin and in Portuguese said, “I thought we were friends!” All the boys laughed. I felt right at home with a bunch of sweaty boys playing football outside. I loved watching them scrimmage for the last hour. The Brazilian guys even sang a little Celine Dion as they played. A play would end, and someone would sing out, “All byyyyyy myself” in a high voice, completely catching me off guard. I smiled, realizing that Brazilians aren’t much different from Americans sometimes. Those guys knew how to enjoy themselves out there on the field. But they tackled without pads, so there wasn’t much mercy when it came down to scoring. They would whoop and holler when they scored a touchdown. The sun slowly crept below the horizon as I sat on the sidelines, casting bright colors off the clouds. With the rolling hills in the background, I felt like I was in Heaven.
Kevin and I loved playing with Evie and Anna Claire. We did a little soccer in the front yard, sandbox in the side yard, and fireplace moments in the backyard. Kevin found a frog and the girls watched it hop around in the sandbox. We named it Todd the toad, and wondered if he was a baby toad or a daddy toad. Kevin led the girls across the road to let it go home in the creek. We all said goodbye to our little friend.
Anna Claire played a game with Kevin in the kitchen quite a few times. She ran up to him so he could throw her in the air. Her scream of joy was priceless, and she even moved him to where she wanted him to stand so they could play more. She called him “Kebi” and me “Kimmy.” That made it difficult to distinguish who she was talking about, but adorable all the same. We read books and spun around and kicked balls together. Oh, and ate snacks. Lots of snacks. Evie and I colored together and acted like silly little girls. Her laugh was so genuine, and I cherished the moments we spent together.
I felt privileged to join in on David and Sarah’s ministries. We were able to help with their English conversation sessions, where people get together with them to practice speaking English for an hour. It was very interesting to hear what the Brazilians’ opinions were on topics anywhere from food to television and movies. David also led a seminar on conflict, so he asked Kevin and I to help him with the opening illustration. We sat in the back, and when he gave us “the look,” Kevin and I started fighting quietly. We got louder and louder, making ridiculous claims about each other that couldn’t be farther from the truth. After a minute, David said, “See, even in a different language, you can recognize conflict.” The people attending seemed to get a kick out of it.
It was also amazing to see the way that David and Sarah open up the home that God has given them. Sarah has organized a play date where she teaches a recipe to the women, and then as the food bakes, she or someone else shares for 20 minutes. Sarah let me give my testimony as she translated. It was a beautiful thing to hear the women respond afterwards. Sarah is opening up her home and her heart to minister to these Brazilian women, and they are willing to listen and take part readily. I believe that God is blessing Sarah’s servant attitude and will bring women to her doorstep that will have a chance to hear life-giving truth.
The day before we left, I went for a long walk in their neighborhood. The sun shone, music played as men built walls brick by brick. A man on a horse stopped me and asked me something, but I told him “Falo Ingles” which means “I speak English.” He left, and I turned to go up a short incline. I figured that I might have a pretty good view of the city if I were on higher ground. I walked up the trail and spotted a couple of horses and donkeys to my left. They were tied up and looked tired… but peaceful. I turned to face the city and took a deep breath. The view was spectacular. Arcoverde. A town that God sent David and Sarah to for a reason. For HIS kingdom. What an awesome calling, and what a huge responsibility. How many people in this town need Jesus? I prayed for them and for David and Sarah’s ministry here. In two weeks, I saw such great potential and multiple opportunities for them to minister. On my walk back I picked up scrap tile from the side of the road. It is striped tan, white, and brown and shaped like a house with a chimney on it. It is just a tiny reminder to me that God loves the people of Arcoverde, and He loves my brother, his wife and their special, beautiful family. He has great plans for them and for this city.
Kevin and I left Brazil with full hearts. We felt like the trip was perfect timing and gave us taste of what life would be like overseas. We agreed that it would be extremely difficult for us to live away from America and all its comforts. It was humbling to realize how spoiled we really are! The trip felt like a family vacation with a taste of missionary life. David’s family was so glad to have us, and we ministered more to them than anyone else. That in itself made the trip BEYOND worth it.
However, I still feel like Kevin and I may not be world travelers. I absolutely have nothing against anyone who is able to and has the desire to frequently travel. But honestly…. I got very sick multiple times on the trip there and back, including more than half of the overnight flight home. I understand that may be “normal” for traveling overseas, but for me it was about as miserable physically as I have ever been. The language barrier is difficult, and we get lost no matter where we are—even here in America! Traveling and “living the dream,” as people say, may be fantastic for someone else but not for us. It took me this long to finally “travel” the way I felt I was expected. And it has now taken me this long to realize that it is not necessary to take every suggestion as a command. I may always be a people-pleaser, but may this Brazil trip be a reminder to me forever. God knows best. I must trust Him.
Lessons come when you least expect them. May I ever be grateful for the chances God gives me to see the world. Whether it be at my doorstep or beyond.
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Just Do Today
Originally published on 1/17/16
Turns out I am a little bit of a control freak. I should have gotten the hint when I was a little girl and everybody told me I was bossy. I should have figured it out when my fellow employees looked at me strange when I told them how to format an email or process paperwork. Their eyes searched for a “Manager” pin on my shirt and never found it. I have a habit of leading without compassion and it took me awhile to figure out that valuable piece of information.
My job now consists of setting appointments with public school employees and speaking with them about retirement. I love my calendar. The second I confirm the date, time, and location, it goes in my Google calendar and I start preparing my notes for that person. I time my traveling perfectly so that I am always at least 5 minutes early. My stomach is usually in flutters as I walk toward the school with my navy blue business bag secured on my back and my Lake County badge around my neck. When I walk inside to speak with the secretary, my feet are already pointed in the direction of the meeting place. However, more often than not, the teacher is not ready for our meeting. Sometimes they aren't answering the secretary's call, or something came up on their schedule. Most commonly I see them come around and happily shake my hand while looking me in the eye. Then they say the flattering words, “Sorry, I completely forgot.”
Call me crazy, but this always surprises me. I am so bound to my schedule that I would be mortified if I stood anybody up or showed up several minutes late. Didn’t they receive my reminder email? Am I invisible? Of course, these teachers mean well and never intend to hurt my feelings. I always casually laugh off their apology and act like it is no big deal. Because it really is no big deal. Not everybody is a control freak and hovers over their schedule like me. I get it. They aren’t bound to the minute. It would do me well to learn from them.
My problem is that I am so focused on making plans that I struggle with embracing today. You have heard that before, I am sure. But when I think about the anxiety that I am causing myself; I have got to pause and make some changes before I lose my mind. I don’t like lying in bed at night going over my work numbers and wondering when my salary will get past minimum wage. I am in a business that takes about 1-2 years to solidify your client base and earn a decent wage. I am constantly building a future for myself, one brick at a time. So far, I haven’t gotten much compensation for the bricks I have laid. But I am so early in the game that this is completely normal. The cool thing is; I LOVE so many aspects of my job. The cooler thing is; Kevin is working too! So we can afford things like bread and milk and Chick-fil-A. And we are saving money for even better things like a house, kids and maybe even two cars. And the gap between now and achieving those lifelong goals is closing very quickly.
The future drives me. It pushes me today to work hard so that tomorrow Kevin and I can have a conversation about how much of a down payment we can do. My chest tightens when I lay in bed at night, because my toes are on the edge of a dock and the blue water invites me to jump in. But I can’t take the plunge just yet… I am not quite there. My hopes, wishes and “little-kid” dreams are fingertips away. I have never been this close! Aren’t I allowed to be a little anxious?
No, I am really not. I have bread and milk today and a home to call my own in the near future. But with a snap of the fingers, everything could be taken away from me. This life is not my own, these possessions are under my temporary ownership and my future is only a blessing waiting to be given to me. I don’t deserve anything; so why am I stressing myself out by the daily rush to attain, attain, attain? Who gets the contentment card and where was I when it got passed out? I don’t want to control my clients, my co-workers, my family or even my calendar. I must release my grip on the schedule and focus on one date on the calendar. Today.
I try essential oils to calm my thoughts when I lay down. I practice deep breathing as I fall asleep. I exercise to release my pent up energy. I take a million and one notes during the day so that I can leave my to-do list at work. I do Bible Studies on Matthew 6. I pray for strength, wisdom and patience constantly. I don’t want these future dates to come along where I “attain” beautiful things and think I did it all by myself. Or that I undeniably deserve that and more. Truth is, nobody owes me a thing. I will work hard. I will focus, and I will set and achieve my goals. But if I miss gaining graciousness and patience for others in the meantime, was it worth it?
I have never been described as a laid-back person. I know those people, and sometimes I think they are boring. Okay, I am kidding… I married one. Everybody knows I needed a little bit of laid-backness in my life. And I am better for it because he teaches me to chill out a little bit. I obsess over planning every second of the day and then wonder why I am so high-strung. Anybody who helps me calm down and go with the flow is an angel from Heaven.
Anxiety is a real struggle. Again, it took me years to figure out this little curse that I have. But it’s my struggle and I own it. I will wrestle with it for the rest of my life, but by the end I hope it is something that pushes me to be a better person. I have a good feeling that it will.
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15 Things that I love
Originally published on 10/2/15
When a song comes on the radio that is part of the soundtrack of your favorite movie and the exact scene of the movie dances in your mind.
Sitting in a church service when a little girl is seated in front of you with her parents. Mostly she colors, fidgets and snacks on goldfish… but there is usually a moment when she clutches the pew and peeks her head up. Her baby blue eyes look so innocent and I can’t help but smile at her.
When Fall is around the corner and everyone rages about Pumpkin Spice Lattes. I myself could care less about the flavor, but it’s fun to bask in everyone else’s sheer happiness that Fall is finally here.
Singing with Kevin in the car. It doesn’t happen very often, but there is this ONE song that we both nail the high note together. America’s got Talent, coming right up.
I love that my bunny Rusty doesn’t like to eat hat from his hanging food tray. He does “One hop this time” and plops his little self in the tray. And then rummages in the corner for his few beloved bits of hay.
Driving in Florida with the many lakes that surround us. The sun hits the top of the water and the light is brilliant. It hurts my eyes to look but I want to soak up the beauty.
Hearing the National Anthem. Whether it’s on TV or in real life, the pride swells as we clap together at the “hooome of the braaaaave”. It brings immediate, sweet unity to the people in attendance.
Meeting someone from another country. Asking them if they like America, and what their favorite food is. Laughing when they say French Fries…. (Me too!!!)
Finding an old picture that you forgot even existed. The bangs, goofy clothes, the smiles, the memories jump off the glossy finish and touch your heart.
Watching people’s reaction when I disclose the information that I have six brothers. They applaud me like I survived a war; when in reality I am just one of the luckiest girls in the world.
The NFL theme song. There is something about that music that instantly makes me feel right at home.
Playing pick-up Ultimate Frisbee or Football and the teams are perfectly matched. The score bounces back and forth, each team scoring consistently. No matter who wins or loses, everyone goes home sweaty and happy to have fought their hardest.
When I walk into Spanish church and everybody I greet kisses my cheek. I feel like a Hollywood star or a Latino, but I am neither.
When someone you love gives you the perfect gift. The surprise of opening it and realizing that they know you so well.
Saturday mornings. Kevin tries so hard to sleep in because it’s his day off, and he gets jealous that I can fall back asleep even with the sun shining through our window. What can I say? It’s a skill.
Happy Weekend!!
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Only Enough Light for the Step in Front of Me
Originally published 5/25/16
I just wanted to be a mom. That’s all I wanted to be when I grew up. Get married, raise my little human beings that look alike and run wild, and minister through the local church. Nothing flashy, no money-making involved, and most importantly- the best dress code ever. The instinct deep inside me to be a mother has always been a loud one. Unlike at one point when I wanted to be a maid. My brothers tried to get me to train early by cleaning up after them. “Kim, I thought you said you wanted to be a maid?” I had no career plans. No big dreams. I didn’t want to grow up to be a professional singer, athlete or doctor. My goal books from school stated plainly, “I want to be a mom.” I played house in my little room, pretending to mother and care for my baby dolls. I had a life-size doll that was seriously half of my size and weighed a decent chunk too. I dressed the babies, combed their hair, named them and wrapped them in giant-holed knitted blankets and long pink nighties. I had Barbies too, even though I was embarrassed because of my house full of boys. My pink bedroom bed and dresser set had frilly bed skirts made by my Grandma, and I loved setting up. I grouped together my blonde haired family, my brown haired family and the black Barbie I had with gorgeous curly hair and a matching dog. I named them all multiple times and kept lists of my favorite names. Adelaide, Molly, Seporah (my spelling from the story of Moses), and even Sirabi (from Lion King). I figured the Barbies wouldn’t care if I named them after lions. I knew I would have my own family someday, and playing with these families was my way of dreaming.
I saved up money during High School to go to Bible College as soon as possible. I couldn’t wait to flee Michigan to the deep south of Tennessee. Sunshine, warmth and new opportunities were mine to grasp. My future was wide open and I was thrilled to learn more about the Bible at Tennessee Temple University. I toyed with the idea of only staying two years, knowing that I had no big career to study for. I decided on a Bible major and was proud of it. I was hungry for Bible classes, theology and ministry training. The professors were mind-blowing. I remember sitting in Old Testament Survey and Dr. Kemp announced that God didn't have a body. Jesus Christ does of course, and the Holy Spirit is (duh) a spirit. But God the Father has no body. I sat in my seat shuddering on the inside with this strange and disappointing new truth. I had a lot to learn.
My calling to ministry came from a young age too, but a deeper commitment came when I was 19 years old. I was on a month-long traveling ministry team and I felt God's gentle tug to commit to a life surrendered to Him in the ministry. I sat on the third floor porch of a beautiful suite in Hilton Head, South Carolina. The beach waves rushed in and out to my far right, and the palm trees swayed reverently while I sat and thought seriously about my future. I was enjoying my summer before sophomore year knowing that I was headed back to school in the fall as an RA. A leadership position that paid well, but came with heavy responsibility. Responsibility that would chew me up and spit me out, turning me into an adult overnight. Not knowing what was coming, I gave God a head nod and solemnly surrendered to whatever He had for me.
After two long years as an RA, I had my fill of ministry. I poured myself out daily and nightly for the girls on my floor and my superiors. My health suffered because I didn’t let my grades suffer. My relationship with Kevin suffered because I was told he wasn’t my priority right now. My hunger for God turned into a hunger for rest and anger with God. “Ministry” was kicking my butt and I bit my tongue in surrender until I finished the job. Then I got married and ran away again, this time to Dallas, Texas.
I guess it made sense for Kevin to go straight to Seminary, but it wasn't really something I thought through. I had checked off the biggest, most important box on my to-do list, get married. But that was it. I was so drained from four years of college that I literally had no plan. I wasn’t ready to have kids immediately, we were only 22 and newly married. I started looking for a job, knowing that Kevin needed me to keep the budget alive so that he could go to school full-time. I met the Ross family and fell in the love with their two boys and baby girl, and had a fabulous job for a year. Taking care of kiddos, running around in the sun, and watching a precious little girl grow up before my eyes. I loved it.
But my timeline didn’t really make sense. Kevin had several years of school left, and I thought I would be popping out kids in the near-but-not-quite-next-month future. So I was convicted to get a big girl job. I looked and applied and looked some more and found a cubicle. IRA’s. Retirement plans. Desk work and client calls. I was efficient and more than capable, but had no idea that this was the beginning of something strange and beautiful that God was cooking up. To me, it was just my "temporary" to get Kevin graduated. Funny joke, Kim. If only I would have known what kind of train was coming around the bend to pick me up on my next adventure.
Thank goodness Kevin started a job and brought home some bacon. But I wasn't just about to move to gorgeous Florida so that I could sit around the house and rot. And still no kiddos cooking in the oven that I knew of. So again the job search picked right back up, and my little fingers scoured the internet for job openings that I would actually LIKE. No real luck. On a random night, a woman approached me and started asking questions. "What do you do? You just moved here? What is your experience in?" After our brief conversation, I felt comfortable with the little opportunity that had climbed up into my lap. I said "Sure!" because that's what you do when your only other tangible option is working retail.
Job Title: Retirement Counselor in Lake County public schools. My boss provided licensing for me and trained me in the way which I should go. And she did a fantastic job. My day job quickly turned into a career, and then recently morphed itself into an exotic animal called a BUSINESS. What is this business? I dress up and visit schools, meet with clients and talk to them about pension and retirement details. I help them make sense of something they don’t have time for. I surprise myself with the words coming out of my mouth and that I know what I'm talking about. And I love it. I am now self-employed, filing for my own Tax ID and furnishing a home office in our (was) guest bedroom.
What part of this did I sign up for? When did God decide I was supposed to be a business woman, and why didn’t he notify me a tad bit earlier? Last year I got sucked into the business reality show called Shark Tank. I had no idea that all the jargon spewing out of Mark Cuban's big mouth would actually apply to me. I think about Kim Patton as a business-owner, and something doesn't add up. I have health issues, anxiety issues and blonde moments. How can I run a business?
The secret was that God’s will all along was always just to trust Him for the next step in front of me. I surrendered every day. I trusted Him when He led me to work for the IRA Custodian in Dallas. I trusted Him when at volleyball on a Monday night, Nancy found me and hired me on immediately. I trusted Him when after being mentored for 8 months, she encouraged me to go out on my own. I trusted Him when Kevin’s face was pale, confused and his questions I couldn’t answer. His lips stretched to the side and his eyes squinted like he always does when something doesn't add up. I pleaded, “I know this is the right thing to do. It doesn’t make sense to me either. But everything has led up to this point. I don't know where the start-up money will come from. But I have to do it.” He finally said, “I’m in.”
I don’t know why God thinks I can do this. I never wanted a career, and surely not my own business. But there is something greater that I can’t draw up with my own colorful pens. Something bigger He wants ME to do. God took my willingness and has held my hand, slowly prodding me along the way He has paved for me. All I was given was faith for that next step.
I still want to be a mom. Challenges are on their way. Life will continue to go on, and changes will continue to bound up in front of me without my permission. But the God who has gotten me this far won't leave me and I "am confident of this, that He who began a good work in (me) will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." Philippians 1:4
I saved up money during High School to go to Bible College as soon as possible. I couldn’t wait to flee Michigan to the deep south of Tennessee. Sunshine, warmth and new opportunities were mine to grasp. My future was wide open and I was thrilled to learn more about the Bible at Tennessee Temple University. I toyed with the idea of only staying two years, knowing that I had no big career to study for. I decided on a Bible major and was proud of it. I was hungry for Bible classes, theology and ministry training. The professors were mind-blowing. I remember sitting in Old Testament Survey and Dr. Kemp announced that God didn't have a body. Jesus Christ does of course, and the Holy Spirit is (duh) a spirit. But God the Father has no body. I sat in my seat shuddering on the inside with this strange and disappointing new truth. I had a lot to learn.
My calling to ministry came from a young age too, but a deeper commitment came when I was 19 years old. I was on a month-long traveling ministry team and I felt God's gentle tug to commit to a life surrendered to Him in the ministry. I sat on the third floor porch of a beautiful suite in Hilton Head, South Carolina. The beach waves rushed in and out to my far right, and the palm trees swayed reverently while I sat and thought seriously about my future. I was enjoying my summer before sophomore year knowing that I was headed back to school in the fall as an RA. A leadership position that paid well, but came with heavy responsibility. Responsibility that would chew me up and spit me out, turning me into an adult overnight. Not knowing what was coming, I gave God a head nod and solemnly surrendered to whatever He had for me.
After two long years as an RA, I had my fill of ministry. I poured myself out daily and nightly for the girls on my floor and my superiors. My health suffered because I didn’t let my grades suffer. My relationship with Kevin suffered because I was told he wasn’t my priority right now. My hunger for God turned into a hunger for rest and anger with God. “Ministry” was kicking my butt and I bit my tongue in surrender until I finished the job. Then I got married and ran away again, this time to Dallas, Texas.
I guess it made sense for Kevin to go straight to Seminary, but it wasn't really something I thought through. I had checked off the biggest, most important box on my to-do list, get married. But that was it. I was so drained from four years of college that I literally had no plan. I wasn’t ready to have kids immediately, we were only 22 and newly married. I started looking for a job, knowing that Kevin needed me to keep the budget alive so that he could go to school full-time. I met the Ross family and fell in the love with their two boys and baby girl, and had a fabulous job for a year. Taking care of kiddos, running around in the sun, and watching a precious little girl grow up before my eyes. I loved it.
But my timeline didn’t really make sense. Kevin had several years of school left, and I thought I would be popping out kids in the near-but-not-quite-next-month future. So I was convicted to get a big girl job. I looked and applied and looked some more and found a cubicle. IRA’s. Retirement plans. Desk work and client calls. I was efficient and more than capable, but had no idea that this was the beginning of something strange and beautiful that God was cooking up. To me, it was just my "temporary" to get Kevin graduated. Funny joke, Kim. If only I would have known what kind of train was coming around the bend to pick me up on my next adventure.
Thank goodness Kevin started a job and brought home some bacon. But I wasn't just about to move to gorgeous Florida so that I could sit around the house and rot. And still no kiddos cooking in the oven that I knew of. So again the job search picked right back up, and my little fingers scoured the internet for job openings that I would actually LIKE. No real luck. On a random night, a woman approached me and started asking questions. "What do you do? You just moved here? What is your experience in?" After our brief conversation, I felt comfortable with the little opportunity that had climbed up into my lap. I said "Sure!" because that's what you do when your only other tangible option is working retail.
Job Title: Retirement Counselor in Lake County public schools. My boss provided licensing for me and trained me in the way which I should go. And she did a fantastic job. My day job quickly turned into a career, and then recently morphed itself into an exotic animal called a BUSINESS. What is this business? I dress up and visit schools, meet with clients and talk to them about pension and retirement details. I help them make sense of something they don’t have time for. I surprise myself with the words coming out of my mouth and that I know what I'm talking about. And I love it. I am now self-employed, filing for my own Tax ID and furnishing a home office in our (was) guest bedroom.
What part of this did I sign up for? When did God decide I was supposed to be a business woman, and why didn’t he notify me a tad bit earlier? Last year I got sucked into the business reality show called Shark Tank. I had no idea that all the jargon spewing out of Mark Cuban's big mouth would actually apply to me. I think about Kim Patton as a business-owner, and something doesn't add up. I have health issues, anxiety issues and blonde moments. How can I run a business?
The secret was that God’s will all along was always just to trust Him for the next step in front of me. I surrendered every day. I trusted Him when He led me to work for the IRA Custodian in Dallas. I trusted Him when at volleyball on a Monday night, Nancy found me and hired me on immediately. I trusted Him when after being mentored for 8 months, she encouraged me to go out on my own. I trusted Him when Kevin’s face was pale, confused and his questions I couldn’t answer. His lips stretched to the side and his eyes squinted like he always does when something doesn't add up. I pleaded, “I know this is the right thing to do. It doesn’t make sense to me either. But everything has led up to this point. I don't know where the start-up money will come from. But I have to do it.” He finally said, “I’m in.”
I don’t know why God thinks I can do this. I never wanted a career, and surely not my own business. But there is something greater that I can’t draw up with my own colorful pens. Something bigger He wants ME to do. God took my willingness and has held my hand, slowly prodding me along the way He has paved for me. All I was given was faith for that next step.
I still want to be a mom. Challenges are on their way. Life will continue to go on, and changes will continue to bound up in front of me without my permission. But the God who has gotten me this far won't leave me and I "am confident of this, that He who began a good work in (me) will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." Philippians 1:4
----------------------
Fascinating Books: My Top Five
Originally published on 5/17/16
In my hunt for wisdom on how to become a better writer, I hear everyone say, "Read a lot, write a lot." I begged my sister-in-law for a reading list. I scoured through Goodreads online. I googled "Best books of all time." I felt an intense hunger for well-written novels, memoirs and autobiographies. My reading eyes have barely skimmed the surface, but here is a short list of stellar literature that I have read lately. My hope is that this list continues to grow as I discover more great stories.
1. Book Thief by Marcus Zusak- The story launched me backwards into a world I have only been a far witness to. Nazi Germany. The main character's actions are riveting and curious at the same time. She is a sneaky little girl with a soft heart, and I so desperately wanted to meet her. She navigates through a war torn country with adopted parents and keen intelligence. Descriptions by the author were something I have never before read- phrases like a "red scream." How unusual but perfectly descriptive. The point of view was creative and special, and the ending tied the whole book together in a messy, war-like but special little bow.
Click this link to see the book on Amazon
2. Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls- I shadowed the author as she revisited her impoverished childhood scene by scene. I watched the love of daughter to father grow with each chapter, even though his behavior should have caused her to hate him. He had a way of conning his little girl back into good graces with him by promising beautiful things. She didn't give up hope in her dad, even though the rest of the family did. Experiencing her life was both heartbreaking and mesmerizing, because she made it out okay.
Click this link to see the book on Amazon
3. Jesus Land by Julia Scheeres- Never before have I been so angry with a family who called themselves Christians. The author's tales of abuse and heresy within the walls of "Rejoice Radio" listening, constantly praying, missionary giving parents made me sick. The horror I read opened my eyes- everything is not what it seems to be. The author grew up with an adopted brother from Africa and stood by his side most of the time. Until it became too much trouble. She wears guilt but becomes apathetic, and I can't blame her. Over the years, the adorable bond between the siblings marks my heart and the book bleeds love, devotion and familial pride from its pages.
Click this link to see the book on Amazon
4. Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini- Once again I found myself in a strange country- Afghanistan. (I pictured Sayid from the TV show LOST to help as a visual for the main characters). Kite flying, Sultan-feeling, innocent Afghan boys in a troubled nation. The character struggles through the relationship of he and his servant, and I could feel the tension in his thoughts. My journey through the book forced me to recognize and remember cultural descriptions and foreign language. The challenge was different, but worth it as I fell in love with the conflict and mystery of it all. The author did a magnificent job surprising me with plot twists, and throughout the whole book- I felt like I was reading an autobiography. It was so real.
Click this link to see the book on Amazon
5. One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp- A woman's devotional journal and creative non-fiction work of magic! I could feel the depths of the author's soul cry out to me as I dove into her farm life that day. Mama life, wife burdens and nature-ridden adventures and even hum-drum. Her spiritual journey consisted of thanking God for the little things. I gasped at the beautiful descriptions written with such meticulous care and detail, like the minute details on a single snowflake or flower petal. She broke grammar and word rules, and I loved every second.
Click this link to see the book on Amazon
Please share your thoughts on these books! I would also love to hear any amazing novels that you have experienced that you would recommend. Happy reading!
OOPS!
originally published 8/23/15
As a 17-year-old waitress at a family restaurant, I felt like a newbie and my co-worker Lynelle was a seasoned professional. She was always offering me random waitressing tips, and I would welcome her help. “Don’t leave too many straws in your apron. They get nasty.” Or, “Old people who give you coupons leave terrible tips. Offer them dessert.” She had bleached blonde hair, perfect teeth and she loved me. She called me Kimmy and we were best of friends from the start. She was the hilarious, sneaky kind of friend that could get me in a trouble if I wasn’t careful. (We once climbed the banisters after hours to steal a few seconds of dancing).
I remember one busy Saturday that I got a split- booths and party tables. Even though it was the piano section, I still hoped for the opportunity to host a party and make some money. Everybody hated the piano section, no matter who the piano player was. Sometimes you got a friendly piano player that played upbeat, Disney songs… but occasionally you got a drama queen pianist that stared at the keys 5 inches away from her face as she played. She was as intense as her black eye-liner. And loud. Customers were always complaining about the loud piano.
The day was busy as always; loads of families came through the doors. I loved looking at the kids’ drawings that they would leave on the table; Dinosaurs, sun-shiny days at the park, and colorful stick-figures.
I welcomed a new family in the piano section, chatting with the dad sitting closest to me while taking their order. As I whisked into the back to work on the computer, Lynelle popped up at my side, touching my hair and looking at the pictures in my order book. “Ooo that picture is so adorable!” She always made me smile. Looking at my order, she offered me another tip. She said to wait to type the meal order into the computer until after I deliver soups and salads to the table. This wasn’t normal. When asked why; she said, “The food won’t sit under the warmer too long, and the customers are busy eating their salads. They won’t notice.” I shrugged and decided to give it a try. She was a pro and I trusted her.
I happily brought the soups and salads out to my family by the piano. The little boy was coloring and the dad still had his jacket on, like he had someplace to go. He asked how long the food would be, and I told him the wait shouldn’t be too bad. “Enjoy your salad!” I stepped back inside to put in the order quickly. I was worried that I may have picked the wrong day to try out Lynelle’s tip. And the wrong table. But I kept my mouth shut and hoped the food order would be up quickly.
It wasn’t. The family demolished the soups and salads in two minutes flat. The same dad who was friendly with me at first, was now asking AGAIN about the timing of the food. I assured him I would go check on it right now. I rushed in and felt my heart race and my hands get sweaty. I spoke in Spanish to the cooks and glanced up at the food order board. The green words covering the screen told me that all my fellow servers had hungry customers too. Some were blinking red, meaning that food orders were running a little late. Dang it. I might have just blown it. I headed out with the intention of apologizing to the family. Just then, the dad brushed past me with his son in his grasp. They had come back from the bathroom and he was seething. I approached the table and saw why. The little boy’s stomach was not hungry, it was sick. The carpet had begun to soak up the vomit, but the orange and beige grossness stared at me like it was my penalty. The entire family rushed out of the restaurant, cruel words on their lips, and money still in their wallets. My mouth dropped open. And as I turned around, my manager Mark was staring at me. “What... just…happened… Kim?” Yeah, it was the piano table, and the kid was sick, and the dad was stressed. But this was on me, and I knew it. I apologized.
I caught up with Lynelle later and told her exactly what happened. She couldn’t help but laugh when she found out the kid threw up on the carpet. I guess I kind of laughed too, glad that it was over and I didn’t get fired. Or cry.
I never waited to put in an order ever again.
----
Happy Wedding Day Crystal Snow
Originally published 10/10/15
1. Book Thief by Marcus Zusak- The story launched me backwards into a world I have only been a far witness to. Nazi Germany. The main character's actions are riveting and curious at the same time. She is a sneaky little girl with a soft heart, and I so desperately wanted to meet her. She navigates through a war torn country with adopted parents and keen intelligence. Descriptions by the author were something I have never before read- phrases like a "red scream." How unusual but perfectly descriptive. The point of view was creative and special, and the ending tied the whole book together in a messy, war-like but special little bow.
Click this link to see the book on Amazon
2. Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls- I shadowed the author as she revisited her impoverished childhood scene by scene. I watched the love of daughter to father grow with each chapter, even though his behavior should have caused her to hate him. He had a way of conning his little girl back into good graces with him by promising beautiful things. She didn't give up hope in her dad, even though the rest of the family did. Experiencing her life was both heartbreaking and mesmerizing, because she made it out okay.
Click this link to see the book on Amazon
3. Jesus Land by Julia Scheeres- Never before have I been so angry with a family who called themselves Christians. The author's tales of abuse and heresy within the walls of "Rejoice Radio" listening, constantly praying, missionary giving parents made me sick. The horror I read opened my eyes- everything is not what it seems to be. The author grew up with an adopted brother from Africa and stood by his side most of the time. Until it became too much trouble. She wears guilt but becomes apathetic, and I can't blame her. Over the years, the adorable bond between the siblings marks my heart and the book bleeds love, devotion and familial pride from its pages.
Click this link to see the book on Amazon
4. Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini- Once again I found myself in a strange country- Afghanistan. (I pictured Sayid from the TV show LOST to help as a visual for the main characters). Kite flying, Sultan-feeling, innocent Afghan boys in a troubled nation. The character struggles through the relationship of he and his servant, and I could feel the tension in his thoughts. My journey through the book forced me to recognize and remember cultural descriptions and foreign language. The challenge was different, but worth it as I fell in love with the conflict and mystery of it all. The author did a magnificent job surprising me with plot twists, and throughout the whole book- I felt like I was reading an autobiography. It was so real.
Click this link to see the book on Amazon
5. One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp- A woman's devotional journal and creative non-fiction work of magic! I could feel the depths of the author's soul cry out to me as I dove into her farm life that day. Mama life, wife burdens and nature-ridden adventures and even hum-drum. Her spiritual journey consisted of thanking God for the little things. I gasped at the beautiful descriptions written with such meticulous care and detail, like the minute details on a single snowflake or flower petal. She broke grammar and word rules, and I loved every second.
Click this link to see the book on Amazon
Please share your thoughts on these books! I would also love to hear any amazing novels that you have experienced that you would recommend. Happy reading!
OOPS!
originally published 8/23/15
As a 17-year-old waitress at a family restaurant, I felt like a newbie and my co-worker Lynelle was a seasoned professional. She was always offering me random waitressing tips, and I would welcome her help. “Don’t leave too many straws in your apron. They get nasty.” Or, “Old people who give you coupons leave terrible tips. Offer them dessert.” She had bleached blonde hair, perfect teeth and she loved me. She called me Kimmy and we were best of friends from the start. She was the hilarious, sneaky kind of friend that could get me in a trouble if I wasn’t careful. (We once climbed the banisters after hours to steal a few seconds of dancing).
I remember one busy Saturday that I got a split- booths and party tables. Even though it was the piano section, I still hoped for the opportunity to host a party and make some money. Everybody hated the piano section, no matter who the piano player was. Sometimes you got a friendly piano player that played upbeat, Disney songs… but occasionally you got a drama queen pianist that stared at the keys 5 inches away from her face as she played. She was as intense as her black eye-liner. And loud. Customers were always complaining about the loud piano.
The day was busy as always; loads of families came through the doors. I loved looking at the kids’ drawings that they would leave on the table; Dinosaurs, sun-shiny days at the park, and colorful stick-figures.
I welcomed a new family in the piano section, chatting with the dad sitting closest to me while taking their order. As I whisked into the back to work on the computer, Lynelle popped up at my side, touching my hair and looking at the pictures in my order book. “Ooo that picture is so adorable!” She always made me smile. Looking at my order, she offered me another tip. She said to wait to type the meal order into the computer until after I deliver soups and salads to the table. This wasn’t normal. When asked why; she said, “The food won’t sit under the warmer too long, and the customers are busy eating their salads. They won’t notice.” I shrugged and decided to give it a try. She was a pro and I trusted her.
I happily brought the soups and salads out to my family by the piano. The little boy was coloring and the dad still had his jacket on, like he had someplace to go. He asked how long the food would be, and I told him the wait shouldn’t be too bad. “Enjoy your salad!” I stepped back inside to put in the order quickly. I was worried that I may have picked the wrong day to try out Lynelle’s tip. And the wrong table. But I kept my mouth shut and hoped the food order would be up quickly.
It wasn’t. The family demolished the soups and salads in two minutes flat. The same dad who was friendly with me at first, was now asking AGAIN about the timing of the food. I assured him I would go check on it right now. I rushed in and felt my heart race and my hands get sweaty. I spoke in Spanish to the cooks and glanced up at the food order board. The green words covering the screen told me that all my fellow servers had hungry customers too. Some were blinking red, meaning that food orders were running a little late. Dang it. I might have just blown it. I headed out with the intention of apologizing to the family. Just then, the dad brushed past me with his son in his grasp. They had come back from the bathroom and he was seething. I approached the table and saw why. The little boy’s stomach was not hungry, it was sick. The carpet had begun to soak up the vomit, but the orange and beige grossness stared at me like it was my penalty. The entire family rushed out of the restaurant, cruel words on their lips, and money still in their wallets. My mouth dropped open. And as I turned around, my manager Mark was staring at me. “What... just…happened… Kim?” Yeah, it was the piano table, and the kid was sick, and the dad was stressed. But this was on me, and I knew it. I apologized.
I caught up with Lynelle later and told her exactly what happened. She couldn’t help but laugh when she found out the kid threw up on the carpet. I guess I kind of laughed too, glad that it was over and I didn’t get fired. Or cry.
I never waited to put in an order ever again.
----
Happy Wedding Day Crystal Snow
Originally published 10/10/15
They call him Mr. Patton. They spend every day in his classroom, watching his skinny frame turn his back to them and write on the board. “Mr. Patton believes the Bible is true.” He has to tell them that so they don’t question his motives when he pushes them to think outside of Sunday School answers; looking for the deeper truth and logic of God’s word. They laugh at his quirks but still count down the minutes until they can roam the hallway free, or better yet spend the two whole days away from school. They are his High School students.
The sun beat down on me as I ran errands after work. By running errands, I mean I stopped at Hobby Lobby to browse the craft section to prepare for the weekend at home. The last few weekends have been a little too boring for my taste, so I was planning to get in front of it. By the time I got home, I was debating going for a run before our usual dinner of pizza and French fries. If you have enough time to debate about going for a run, you better get dressed and start walking to the gym before you discover a measly excuse to stay home. Kevin mentioned yesterday that he wanted to stop by the Homecoming dance at school. He spent the afternoon hanging up balloons and decorations in the Loft to help prepare for it. He wasn’t an official chaperone, but he wanted to stop by and make an appearance.
“One of my seniors said you should come too. I don’t think she has any real say in it, but we could sneak you in.” Kevin casually looked towards me as I sat on the ground petting the bunny. My eyes darted sideways to see how serious he was. “Sneak me in? Are you sure? That sounds shady.” He shrugged and reassured me that it was no big deal and no one would mind. He did tell me that he didn’t want me to spend an hour on my makeup though, just in case we didn’t stay long.
An hour later, my workout was complete and I was showered and debating what to wear. With each dress I picked out, I wondered how awkward this “appearance” was going to be. Kevin picked out a black pinstripe suit, bold blue shirt and a white tie. He was looking dapper and already dancing around the house like Michael Jackson. I settled on a black v-neck dress with a simple sash around the waist. We took a quick picture and stepped out into the evening. The light shone on his white tie and he discovered a stain. “What is this? Where did this come from?” We took a closer look at his tie and laughed when we found three spots on his dingy white tie. We turned around so he could switch his tie, and picked out a black one that looked ten times better.
Once at the school, we kinda snuck in through the gym and took the stairs up to the back door of the Loft. He opened the door for me, but I shoved him through first to be the face they saw before mine. Shrieks of joy began from the girl who suggested that we both come to the dance. Oh, did I mention that I have never been to a high school dance before? I didn’t go to any of mine in high school and I only partly regret it. I had my reasons then and I am sure even if I went back in time to the girl I was then, I probably still wouldn’t have gone. But now I am married to a high school teacher and ironically the first dance I go to is one meant for his students.
Kevin makes his rounds and we are not asked to leave by any of the legitimate adults. It’s silly to think that we could have been kicked out, but I really had no idea why I would be there. The dancing was soon to begin anyway, so we had something else to focus on.
The students smiled when they saw their Bible teacher in a suit attending their student event. The taller ones put their elbow on his shoulder and talked some sense into him. I love the look of joy on his face as he laughs with his students. The kids took pictures in the corner of the room, and the music slowly raised its volume and speed to encourage dancing. Small groups of girls took the floor, and the boys joined in with their jumping and waving arms. It didn’t take long for Kevin’s juniors and seniors to crowd around him and prompt him to show them what he’s got. Kevin wiggled his knees and flipped his jacket open and shut like he owned the place. The kids roared in laughter and clapped for his performance. There’s really nothing like watching your teacher break it down on the dance floor.
The next two hours consisted of the Whip-nae-nae, cha-cha slide, Taylor Swift, Justin Bieber, cupid shuffle, Michael Jackson, and plenty of songs with a solid techno beat. I danced but also stood on the outskirts of the action sometimes to soak up the load of fun everyone was having. I took my shoes off when Cotton-eyed Joe came on, but I got lost in the dance and had to simply observe. I didn’t want to stay on the dance floor kicking my feet like a hick when there is actual choreography to the kicking, and I don’t know it.
Suddenly I heard slow piano music and squinted my eyes at Kevin because I thought I might know the song. Sure enough, it was one of my favorites. It took a few second for Kevin to meet my eyes again, but when Ed Sheeran started up “Photograph”, I ran up to Kevin and he spun me around. The couples were blurry as I flew around, but I heard a lot of Aww’s and “So sweet!!” from the ladies as they danced with their dates. We stopped on cue and then broke into a tango at the beat. It was short-lived of course, because we really don’t know how to do the tango. But the song was filled with Ed Sheeran’s marvelous voice and our spins and steps. Kevin of course told me at some point that I was off-key, but that’s obvious. He held me tight and smiled, dancing around with his wife in front of everyone.
It was that point that I realized how lucky I am. He treats me well. He takes care of me. He wanted me at this dance tonight, by his side. He shows me off to his students and he is proud to hold my back and guide us around the dance floor. Knowing his personality and his usual thoughts towards social events, this is HUGE for him. I don’t know that the dance could have gone any better than it did. It was spontaneous and exactly what I needed to fill my heart with assurance that Kevin and I are meant to be. Forever. I didn’t have to say goodbye to my best friend after a fun night of dancing. We got to walk home together and lay on the couch with aching feet. I am so lucky.
Crystal Snow is getting married today. In two hours, she will say her vows in front of her beloved father and friends and then she will be Crystal Shell. I am so unbelievably proud of her and can’t wait to see how God continues to use her for His glory. She is truly a shining star in a dark, dark world and we need more people in this world to point people to the truth.
God designed marriage. Whether it’s only been a few hours in Crystal’s case, five years in my case, or 35 years in most of our parents’ case…. We are in the relationship that He has called us to. Struggles beat us all up, but may we not forget the people in our lives that God has called us to love and serve everyday.
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