On life outside the fast lane

Pretty pictures...

Well, this was supposed to be the moon, but my camera isn't for that sort of thing. I thought the tree was pretty anyway.

My happy room. :-) It has the projects and the pictures.

The canyon going to the river.

My favorite front porch view.

Driving home.

The coldest point of winter... and still the grass is there.

And God's word outshines it!

I developed a really bad habit my first year of teaching, when I lived in Texico. I’d stay up ‘til 11 on Sunday nights, cleaning while I listened to Cowboy Corner with Red Steagal on the radio. Defined as a bad because of the Monday morning effect, but habitual because Sunday night was the only time I was caught up on both tasks and sleep - and cleaning was fun to me at that point.

I dropped the habit during my Albuquerque years. No Cowboy Corner, for one thing. And for another, there were no rested and caught up Sunday nights. I lived life in the fast lane. When school was done, there was an EW kid. If the kids were all home, there was bound to be something at church. If by some chance I was home, there were emails to answer, phone calls to make, paperwork to do.

I was accustomed to it, just as I was accustomed to the excessive amount of cars on the roads, the inconvenience of missing a turn, and the fact that very few people return a friendly greeting in the parking lot. God called me to live there and live I did, to the fullest.

But here it is, Sunday night. I don’t have Cowboy Corner, but I’m torn between cleaning and writing. I’m caught up on sleep and tasks, and this is fun. I’m away from excessive cars and back where everyone expects you to chat in the post office. God has brought me back to a slower world.

Most Friday afternoons, I go by to visit Rosa Lee. Rosa Lee is approximately 79 years old. She lives alone, for she never married, in a big rock house on Capitan Street. I met her at church, where she was the pianist until she had a stroke that impeded the use of her hands. Now she can barely walk, but she washes her laundry by hand and carries it to an outbuilding to use the dryer. She says she’s busy, in her slower world.

I love the family who are my landlords. Often when they are over to feed, they’ll come up or I’ll go down to chat. One day, she just needed pliers. I took them out, but we stood for 30 minutes after the job was done. Another day she was picking up the rent check. She could only stay a minute, but I hugged her good-bye three times an hour later. It’s a slower world.

It’s not that I’ve nothing to do. I have 21 little lives to love on and a plethora of ideas for improving their education; I’ve done more projects to that end than I have for my own home, and I have paperwork created by the greatest bureaucracy in the world. Bilingual and TESOL (teaching English to speakers of other languages) certification is required within three years of my hire in this district; I think I can finish my coursework this summer, but it hasn’t been easy. Online Spanish classes require about 4 hours of homework a week; I’m thrilled to have the education class ITV at the high school because there’s enough homework to cover all the time I spent driving last semester. And I actually think about what I’m learning. How often do you consider how you learned to read and write, or how that parallels your speech and listening? I don’t remember analyzing it, but I do now. I guess that’s a benefit of a slower world.

Considering small details is part of my survival as a teacher. At times I live my first year over again, but I’m encouraged by small signs of progress. As some of you know, I love to read aloud, and I love to dramatize the stories. The other day, as I was fighting the noise level and off-task behavior I moved to correct three students who were supposed to be reading silently, but I stopped for a moment to watch them. They were noisy, but I realized they were voicing the characters, acting out the story. Maybe I shouldn’t push so hard to cover the curriculum. Maybe they’re gleaning just as much from the simple pleasures... a slower world.

I love Sundays. I love (=like much) church, for one thing. I miss Trinity terribly, but I love the fact that God’s given me people to love (=agape) and who love me. I love the fact that when people here say, “Come by,” they expect you to do it, and when you tell them to come by, they might. I love the fact that as soon as teachers at school learn you are acquainted with the new student, they find you to question his absence. I love God’s Word and He’s allowing me to take a leader’s role in beginning a new Bible study with some of the church ladies. I love calling those ladies to let them know I care about their lives and encourage them that He does, too. I don’t have nearly as many facebook friends as I used to, and very few friends answer emails regularly, but God has given me face-to-face relationships in a whole new way. It’s a slower world.

A few months ago, I spent the day with a couple I met through church. They spoke of how fast-paced the world had become and the damage they saw in our dependence on technology. They told me I shouldn’t work on Sunday. I knew that. I’ve always known that the sabbath was made for man, that even the French plan of one day off every ten days wasn’t enough, but I’ve lived in the fast lane for so long, I didn’t know how to stop. But the Spirit confirmed the rebuke. I’ve made more an effort. It means working hard every weekday evening, often even Fridays. It means working most of my day Saturday to finish homework, lesson plans, grading, sorting, preparing. But it’s worth it. Sunday is a glorious day, the day I really enjoy my slower world.

Today I took a nap when I came home from church. I prepared my Bible study, then I took a walk, a long walk through the grass with sandals on. I took pictures, even though I’m not much of a photographer. I sat on a rock and called a dear friend. I unpacked boxes and made bookmarks. I even saddened when I realized that one of the many obnoxious cats who love my porch had had his eye deeply cut (I don’t like cats, so it is truly a marvel that I am becoming attached to them). I wandered at what God has given me. Why I am here? For what is He preparing me? This I know not. I know I am “contenta,” happy, in a peaceful everyday kind of manner, yet I know it is not forever. I know that I am learning, learning that I am not the Savior. I cannot do the work. It is better to be still in His presence; as one children’s story says, to remember “the most important person is the one you are with, the most important moment this one, and the most important deed to be of service.” As I am learning in my classroom, it is more helpful to do much of little than to do little of much. For acknowledging that He is sovereign without my help allows me to live in a slower world.

On being first and being vulnerable

Today I had to stop at a state police checkpoint on the way home. At one point, the front car in oncoming traffic required some follow-up checking, but the second car was cleared. Impatient, he pulled out, around the cop cars parked on the shoulder, and into the bar ditch so he could get on his merry way. The policemen were apparently undisturbed, but it gave me material for contemplation while I waited, as I’d given up wishing for better radio reception.

Why is it that our agenda is always the most important? This driver couldn’t wait two more minutes. His business was his priority! And I’ve had the feeling. In fact, last Friday in Albuquerque, I was so, so frustrated because all those other cars felt the need to be on the road at the same time I was. Who are they hurting?

ME! because I am important.

It starts early on. Look at my class. Everybody wants to be first. Every day, every time we line up, I have to announce the order or there WILL be a push and shove fight over who was in front of who. Now, maybe I can understand this when we line up for lunch, or even library, but I’m not sure how it helps on the way to an assembly or to switch classes, since seating is assigned once you get there. I certainly don’t understand why they so badly want to be in front when they’re on the way to a... um, disciplinary moment. Who wants to suffer first?

ME! because I am important.

We experience the “me first” complex as adults, though it manifests in different ways. It took me many months to accept that in Colombia, people were allowed to cut in front of me in the supermarket if they had fewer items than I. We not only want our business done first (although we do eventually figure out that suffering first may not be a privilege), we want the first attention of others put on us. That’s why anarchy doesn’t work. Your way and my way aren’t compatible. We can’t both be the popular one, the one in charge, the best. We’re bound to push and shove, because who should win?

ME! because I am important.

Because I’m important, it’s hard to admit the following, but... Although I’m not a fight to the front of the line person, I do want to have everyone’s best opinion. I have a competitive nature, apparently, or it wouldn’t bother me that I think the other grade-level teacher is really a better teacher than I am. It wouldn’t bother me that I’m never really assigned extra responsibilities (like I need them!). It wouldn’t bother me when as life goes on, people eventually stop answering my emails; it certainly wouldn’t bother me to realize that no matter what job I do, it can be done by someone else. I am not indispensable to God.

WAIT. It’s not ME?! I’m not that important????

And it wouldn't bother me that my EA distinctly prefers to help other teachers rather than be in my room. That's been an ongoing dilemma all year, as I've struggled to understand what I do to make her uncomfortable. We made some progress the other day, though. I had an incredibly embarrassing moment, from which she was a part of my rescue. All of a sudden, I was completely vulnerable in her hands. Now, it seems, she's opened up more to me.

Vulnerability. I feel vulnerable even writing this, which is why I have to do it. Vulnerability is completely the opposite of being first. It's being pushed out of line. It's letting others go first.... but vulnerability creates a moldable spirit. It doesn’t really sound like a good thing. Wouldn’t it be better to live by MY ideas, MY opinions, MY reactions than to be vulnerable to the world around me?

Maybe. Unless you take into account one other factor. The fact that there’s another option. I’m not the king of my world (so I don’t have to push and shove my way to the top), nor is the world the king of me (releasing me the slavery of being first in everyone’s opinion). The Creator is King. He is Redeemer King. True vulnerability works in the heart, creating readiness to live under this crown. Vulnerability to God’s standards creates virtue, the traits heralded throughout the centuries as strengths within a person. Taking responsibility for my own actions. Accepting correction. Doing what’s right without commendation. Patience. Diligence. Love, joy, goodness, gentleness... NONE of them are rooted in

ME! And how important I am.

Virtues are rooted in a wise King, who asks us to be vulnerable to His wisdom, to be vulnerable to the needs, NOT the opinions, of others.

I learn, again, from my students. I have several who have advanced beyond the class average. They work quickly and efficiently and are always done early. Most of them drive me crazy. “Miss Wells. Miss Wells. Miss Wells. What do I now? OK, I’m done. What do I do now? Miss Wells.” (Remember, it’s all about ME from infancy). I find mistakes and omissions in their work and run out of extra activities.

Then there’s "Bob."He’s vulnerable. He doesn’t really care about his scores, but when I asked him to make more effort because one score had dropped, he promptly brought it up, passing the base score. He really does not like it when I raise my voice to the class, often hiding his face. He cried for over an hour the one day I had to severely correct him.

But he’s such an easy student. Two grade levels ahead of most of the class in math and reading, he finishes his work in half the time and I rarely find mistakes. When he’s finished, he’s pretty content to pick up a book - except when he comes and asks, “Miss Wells, can I help people?” And he does help. He doesn’t giggle and chat and say “Write this answer.” He helps, doing his best to mimic what I do with the other kids. (Bless his heart, he is always seated between the behavior problems because he is the only one in class strong enough to withstand them, not being “bugged” or drawn in).

I use the word strong. How does that go with being vulnerable? Strength to deal with people and changing situations is based in vulnerability within the protection of an absolute. For "Bob," that absolute is his parents. For me, it must be God. Because being first and being vulnerable are not compatible. And He’s first, which only leaves me vulnerability.

Pictures of Christmas at Becca's

My sisters decorated - without any of my Christmas decorations from the past, which were apparently all left during the move. Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without! Thank you girls!

Dreams

Life. They say follow your dreams, but - what are they? I realized this week that I often move from absolute confidence in God’s plan to complete confusion in a matter of seconds...

Some might say it’s Christmas, but my “Christmas feelings” really are unrelated. I remember Christmas as a 5 year old, receiving a Cabbage Patch doll and wondering who turned the lights on under the tree. I remember Christmas at the age of 12, upset because we moved, but oh, so happy, to make... well, attempt to make, a gingerbread house with my best friend. 4 times. I remember the first Christmas with my siblings and football tackle hugs to say thank you. I remember Christmas during my first year of teaching, when all I did was sleep. And I remember Christmas in Colombia, where I ran the entire gamut of emotions, from tears to joy. I don’t think “it feels like Christmas” means much.

Maybe it’s just that I have OH, so much to think about in everyday life! Most days are so full that I process nothing and remember much. What are these thoughts that fill my mind and leave me wandering? (yes, I know you think that should be wondering, but really, in my mind, I’m wandering).

The children. The little boy who used to not even try to read, laboring, laboring to take his reading test and ending in tears because it timed out on him. This same little boy bringing me a broken necklace with an angel locket. It wasn’t new, it wasn’t wrapped, but he wanted to give me a gift and it’s all he had. I’m wearing it now. The little girl who walked in the day after the Christmas program, explaining that she couldn’t have her agenda signed because her mom was in jail for drunk driving the night before. The other student who wrote to her daddy in her journal, begging him to come and visit. Or the little boy who asked for a bucket of popcorn in his letter to Santa. I’m so discouraged because I can do so little for them.

Not that my job isn’t a good place to be. How pleasant to sing Christmas carols at the Christmas program! How pleasant to be told thank you by most of the class for even such a small gift as a book! How pleasant to watch the gift exchange. It was supposed to be toys worth $5 or less, but most brought elaborate packages. One little boy brought a little gift, proportional, I know, to the family’s budget. I watched the boys pass their packages, dreading the inevitable moans and groans from the student who opened that one small car while the others explored their gifts. I forgot about the value of friendship. As Providence would have it, the boy who received the car was so excited about opening a gift from his friend that size and worth meant nothing. That’s reason to smile.

The value of friendship. Truly, sometimes I’m lonely. I miss my fellow-workers and former students. I miss my roommates. Mostly I miss my church, God’s precious family to me for 6 years. Yet, for everything there is a season; I know that this season is changing. In moving me to Santa Rosa, God’s given me a dream for which I’ve begged since in high school. Never has a community been so welcoming - loads of Christmas cards, invitations everywhere. Not since leaving my parents have I lived outside of town. In fact, I don’t want to leave my happy little home this week, not even for a short trip to the grocery store. I like to look out the windows and see nothing but grass on one side, a barn and corrals on the other. I like my rock walls and empty space. I like being the queen of my castle... with someone to call if something goes wrong. For what more could I ask?

This then, is God’s dream for me, now. How long will it last? My prayer is only that He refines me, that I come forth as gold, leaving my regrets for His dreams... And I’m so thankful that He has done the work to fit me to His plan: This is the covenant that I will make with them after those days, saith the Lord, I will put my laws into their hearts, and in their minds will I write them; And their sins and iniquities will I remember no more. (Heb. 10:16-17).

Somewhere between my heart and my hands/ Somewhere between my faith and my plans... Somewhere between contented peace and always wanting more/ Somewhere in the middle You’ll find me... With eyes wide open to the difference, the God we want and the God who is /But will we trade our dreams for His or are we caught in the middle? (Casting Crowns - Somewhere in the Middle)

to live is Christ, to die

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song...
(If I Die Young - The Band Perry)

I am NOT a morbid person. I am not fascinated by death in and of itself. I don’t wear black constantly and I’m not depressed - but I have thought about death. I’ve thought especially about what it would be like to die, now, as a young person. Would it be some mystical experience to try to understand such a death, as portrayed by L.M. Montgomery in her novels? Would it be death “draped in lace” as one person commented? Where is the sweetness in the bitterness?

It’s a reality. It could happen, even though none of us really expect it. I don’t really write lesson plans far enough in advance that a long-term sub could just pick up and cover for me, because I expect to be here. I’ve never finished the “last will and testament” given to me by a legal services agency several years ago, because truly I don’t expect anyone to be fighting over my (not so plenteous) belongings. I know what I wish my funeral would be, but I’ve never told anyone; they may go before I.

No one really knows what the song means... “If I Die Young.” Well, what if I die young? What would be my legacy? That’s the verse that gets me because I wonder if it’s true.

A penny for my thoughts/oh, no, I’ll sell ‘em for a dollar.
They’re worth so much more after I’m a gonner.
And maybe then you’ll hear/ the words that I’ve been singin’.
Funny when you’re dead how people start listenin’.

There are things I’ve wanted to say, things I’ve said, for years that it seems no one has heard. I’ve loved and I’ve cried and I’ve prayed and people walk on in their sin. I read the Apostle Paul’s words in Romans - that he would give up his own salvation to see the salvation of Israel. I can’t say I’m quite that unselfish, but I would gladly rejoice in my own death if people would hear the words of LIFE in the gospel as a result.

Actually, rejoicing in death wouldn’t be a problem for me. Lately the Lord pulls more and more on my heart.... For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain (Phil. 1:21). Maybe it’s because I don’t know where home is anymore. I know where my family home is, and I know where the home where I sleep is, but I don’t know where I belong, except in the kingdom. In the words of another song,

They say heaven’s pretty/ and livin’ here is too
But if they said that I would have/ to choose between the two
I’d go home, going home, where I belong...

While I’m here, I’ll serve Him gladly,
Sing Him all my songs.
I’m here, but not for long
And when I’m feeling lonely,
And when I’m feeling blue,
It’s such a joy to know that
I am only passing through.
I’m headed home, going home, where I belong.
(Home Where I Belong - B.J. Thomas)

Every day I am blessed, and I have a life to live. I want to spend time with my nephews. I want to watch my siblings and “my kids” as adults. I want my students to learn. I want to write all my friends letters. I want to visit Colombia again. I want to return to missions as a job. I want to be a mom. But if none of it comes, if all of it comes, if some of it comes - it’s OK. I want to be with Jesus - and I want Jesus to be in the hearts of anyone, of everyone, who loves me.

The ballad of a dove/ go with peace and love.
Gather up your tears/ keep ‘em in your pocket.
Save ‘em for a time when you’re really gonna need ‘em.

Do they know the Holy Spirit, Jesus the Peace who has broken down every wall? Do they know I’ll be in heaven where all tears are wiped away?

The shock knife of a short life.
Well I’ve had just enough time.

If I’ve had time enough, then - they know.

Summer in Reverse Order

Well, this one's really small. I don't know why, but it was taken on a short visit to Waco, with church friends, Eagles' Wings friends, old friends, young friends...You never know, you might see a familiar face! And we went to a church that didn't mention Jesus. It was odd.

My summer was mostly Eagles' Wings. Does that make 10 years for which that is a true statement? But I was so blessed to be there, not only loving kids, but loving staff. God's ideas are always better than ours!

OK, maybe trying to keep everybody under control?

Staff girls... Gotta say, the sister thing is special! I have two in this picture (one's just my soul twin! :-)

Saying "See ya" to lots of folks... thankfully Santa Rosa isn't as far away as Bogota, but it's still going to change my life! No longer will my evenings be spent with these (above and below) - "my kids." They're kind of grown up now, anyway.

Bible study twice a week for 2 months with this one and his family, and they are major Eagles' Wings blessings. Pray for Josh S. and his mom, that someone can be Jesus to them.

Happy Travels!!! I'll end with the beginning of summer, the restful and fun trip to a wedding in Ohio - of friends I met in Colombia.

Summer, then, in short - a reminder of all the ways God has blessed me in all the opportunities to which He's called me.... In length, read below!

Dear Friends,

Would anyone like to volunteer to act as the adult to tell me to go to bed right now? Actually, don't bother; I might respond like my almost 3 year old nephew and tell you "Me happy." I am happy. I just had a shower, a visit to the chiropractor, food of my choice, and I'm sitting in a rocking chair, in my own house, with internet. At this point, I desire little more, for the whirlwind of life has worn me to a sense of appreciating quiet.

The whirlwind of life, of change. That, I think is what makes it a whirlwind. When I was 12, my parents decided to move. Now, we didn't move far - only about 10 miles across the grass of our rural community. I didn't change schools, social life, or even addresses, yet I cried over leaving our very small, very old house. I don't deal well with change. That, then, is one aspect where the Lord is exemplifying 2 Corinthians, for in my weakness He is made strong. Change has come, full force.

Some of you already know the story for the most drastic part of this. My school in Albuquerque was forced to make some major budget cuts, my position was eliminated, and I was left searching for jobs throughout the month of July. One day in a discussion with Ms. Dianne (my Eagles' Wings director, mentor, and friend), I concluded that God would wait until the Friday before school started to give me a job, because He was proving that HE is Jehovah-Jireh, the Provider. The week before school started, I was tempted to question Him, to worry, to be angry, but I had to conclude I could not. If I trusted Him and believed He was sovereign, then I had to believe some door would open, that perhaps I needed to work somewhere else, to do something else. That Friday, the call came. On Monday I interviewed for a job for which I'd never applied (I'd left my number with the district after being told there were no openings). I was hired and started trainings on Thursday. God provided.

I am now teaching 2d grade at Santa Rosa Elementary. I have 22 little seven and eight year olds; most of the time, I am absolutely bewildered as to what they can or cannot do, and what I'm supposed to do with them. Going back into the NM public school system after 8 years out, I'm overwhelmed by the paperwork. I've said for years that the stress level of the average public school teacher is much higher than mine was in private school, and I was right! God knew that to do my volunteering with Eagles' Wings I needed to be at Temple, and God knows now that I'm free to devote myself to the outer fields. Excuse that side note! I mostly wanted to say that I feel frail, like a brand new teacher, yet not hopeless, because I know God gave me this job, so He will work His work as I am there.

He's proved it, too. Today, Day 8, was the best day we've had all year. I think they might have learned something. I laughed... I haven't had time to laugh much before this point, but I couldn't help it when one of the boys pointed to my backpack, sitting behind my desk with papers sticking out, and asked, "Miss Wells, is that your backpack?"

"Yes."

"Are you going fishing?"

I'm truly excited about being in Santa Rosa. It's a tight-knit, old school Hispanic community. I was told today I needed to buy a purple shirt because we wear purple on Fridays and at all school events, including the Homecoming Parade. They've been incredibly friendly and helpful. The elementary school has a dedicated team of teachers; I have a mentor, my principal is in and out of my room constantly, we had 280 kids in the gym for an assembly and you could have heard a whisper. The district is bilingual, which means every child gets Spanish instruction by a bilingual certified teacher. Right now, we trade second grade classes in the afternoon so my students can be taught by the endorsed teacher, but I have officially begun graduate classes for a bilingual endorsement. I'll be able to add Highlands to my list of schools, as Las Vegas, NM, is only a little over an hour from Santa Rosa. The second graders from the other class asked me if I spoke Spanish today. When I told them yes, they decided to test me. Their teacher requires them to ask to go to the restroom in Spanish, so a little boy walked straight up to me with a plan. "Mrs. Padilla, me puedo ir al baño?" I answered calmly, "No soy Mrs. Padilla" (I'm not Mrs. Padilla). That apparently satisfied the entire class, since they hadn't thought about using my name.

On the God-story aspect of this change... Remember, we are talking about a small town. Santa Rosa survives because of I-40 and the prison, although it is helped by the many lakes (I've yet to visit the Blue Hole, but it is a pretty area). Renting in such a place is tricky, especially at the last minute. God, however, thought of this as well. My parents have acquaintances, Christians, who they called for ideas. It "just happens" that these folks have a rental that will be available in October on a ranch about 13 miles out. In the meantime, a friend of my grandparents had a friend (!) who had an extra house; she did NOT want to rent it out, but was willing to let me stay there for a while. Problems solved: I have housing, I do not have to move in the midst of all my other adjustment, I currently live 3 blocks from the school, and I'm becoming acquainted with the community. Last week, I stayed so late at school that I got locked in and had to call the secretary to come let me out (climbing a chain link fence in a skirt with 2 backpacks did not seem wise). That worked out nicely, though, as she is a precious Christian lady and we finally got to chat.

Change is good. Of course, Ecclesiastes says there's nothing new under the sun, so all that is change to me is really part of life here and God's plan for many years! As for nothing new under the sun, that might describe my summer. I had ideas for new things. A trip to Morocco, a visit in Colombia, playing with my nephews in Wyoming... oh wait, that isn't new. Anyway! God changed those plans as well. Please pray for hearts to be softened in the Moroccan government; they closed a well-established Christian orphanage suddenly and without grounds, leaving many children with little care. This then, closed my opportunity for travel there. Yet, true to the principle of nothing new, God opened a door for me to serve again at Eagles' Wings Youth Ranch this summer. The directors were in Albuquerque all summer, unavailable for camp because he had cancer, and there were a lot of holes to be filled. I don't really know what my job was. I urged and encouraged staff. I oversaw games, transitions, and kitchen clean-up. When the kids were troubled, they spent "negative time with Miss Rebecca." I had one little girl that threatened to "kung-fu" everybody and one little boy who refused to function without an extra half of a hot dog. I was just - there - and in the best situation possible to drive me to build my relationship with the Lord, as I had time for that structured into my day. I talked one young lady through understanding salvation - and saw a major turn around in another. E. was one of the blessings of the summer for me; she'd had a bad experience with police and she hated all authority, even her young and fun staffers. Within an hour of arriving at camp, she was refusing to participate. It was a long week and we had lots of negative time together, but on the last night, she came to me crying. She allowed me to hug her. She told me that she missed her mom. Maybe, just maybe, her eyes are open now to how a just God is also a loving God. True to Psalms, prayer came early and late all summer... and it was a wonderful summer, although one of the hardest for me in saying good-bye.

I've had a lot of sentimental moments this summer, be that bad or good. I did get to attend a wedding of friends I met in Colombia... and received a message that a precious child from my 4 year old class in Colombia had asked about me over a year after I left. My heart is still very drawn to serving those who need to see the "upside-down kingdom" of the Lord Jesus and His salvation. Oh, on the note of the wedding trip. I was caught driving in the midst of a tornado warning. Very unsure of what to do, I kept driving until I reached the motel, where I asked about the sirens. Yes, they said, those were sirens and if the tornado came, I'd need to go in the bathroom. How would I know it was coming? I would see it. Oh my.

Back on a serious note, I've released most of mentor kids into the adult (or semi-adult world). All spring, I did Bible study twice a week with one family. We saw the oldest boy in that family pray to ask the Lord in his heart this summer, yet I haven't even seen them in almost a month. The mom had also claimed the Lord, but the chains of alcohol and lifestyle are strong; I was so often blown away by the differences in our life experiences. She was only a year older than I am, yet she'd lived on the streets since she was 13, she has 4 kids and a prison record - really, she's come a long way to have a home and her kids and some degree of sanity. Again, Jesus is the Lord of the harvest and He will have to grow the seeds planted.

As for the rest of my summer... I made a visit to Waco to visit one of my girls from church, took another young lady from church and an EW staffer with me, and met up with 2 friends that I met at EW when I was in college! It was a mini-vacation. I spent a few weekends with my family. My siblings are all leaving home now, such a strange phenomena for me to watch. I never made it to Wyoming, but I did find a few long-lost friends on facebook. :-) I shall end on that note, as I'm beginning to see the flip sides of technology. Please know that if you don't hear personally from me in the next few months, there could be many causes. I have very limited internet access during the week... I may go through electronic withdrawals, but that will be a good thing! You can call though. For the first time since the Bovina years, my phone is in its home area!

There, you've had a moment in my whirlwind. I pray a few blessings rain down on you through it. Please stay in touch.

Love,

Rebecca

Good-Bye Temple

Friendships...

The Civil War

Was it the Merrimac or the Monitor?

Umm... a mixing of centuries?

Pretty girls, pretty hearts.

History up the hill in Santa Fe

Field trip to the capitol

If you behave you get to soak the teacher.

Mrs. Adams who served as my "mom" at school!

For everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven....