"My grace is sufficient"

I can't tear myself away from the coverage of what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary. It hits home in all areas of my life: professionally and personally. The little faces of the students that were killed remind me so much of Harrison and Henry. I can't imagine what those parents are going through. The stories that come out about each little kid and the pictures that they post makes me so sad. And then I think about all of the times that I sat through a drill as a classroom teacher to prepare for a situation like the teachers experience d las t Friday. One time at my school, t eachers weren't warned ahead of time that there would be an intruder drill. It occurred to me that our school could be under some sort of an attack. I prepared like I was trained to do, but debated how to react if someone entered my classroom. I am a mom. I have two little boys. But there were so many other little kids whose parents who trust me to protect their students and keep them safe. Would ...

It's in the sweet memory of my Grandpap's smell of leather and shampoo; the way he would twiddle his thumbs while he drove. It's in the dust of the pews, the statue of the crucifix, and the stained glass windows of St. Patrick's church; where I first remember His whispers. When I look over the ocean and feel the briny smell of the air as the sun kisses my skin. I watch the waves crash and melt back into the sea. There's a depth there that I can't place. The silent magic at Christmas. The decorations, the pine, the lights, the tinsel. A universal understanding that there's something more; it implores our soul to believe in the unseen. The plump softness of a baby's fat leg. The peace that comes when those hands touch my face, or when he falls asleep on my chest. Weekend trips with friends. Playing "Casper" and praying with my baby brother.  The warm smell of pumpkin pie at Grandma's and the sound of my aunts and cousins laughing. A l...

It was fall semester 2002 at Mira Costa when I first noticed Jon. I was in "elementary math", a pre-requisite for elementary school teachers. The first day of school, I tried to get his attention. I was paired up with an older man to introduce one another to the class. I did my best to be funny and get Jon to laugh. The rest of the class did, but he made no notice. This was out of character for me. I usually was not the type to try and scope out my classmates. I liked making friends at school, but I was not really ever wanting to date anyone. I remember later, sitting in a group with all of the younger girls in our class; each one gorgeous. I got an answer from each, that every one already had a boyfriend. "That one's mine." I said. He would walk past me every day after class, and not even look at me. He seemed like a pretentious jock. But there was something different about him. I had to find a way to get him to take me on a date. I felt a sense of urgency; he ...

I have been putting off this blog topic for a while, but for some reason, it has never escaped me from wanting to write about it. Lately, God has been tugging at my heart to finally publish it. So, embarrassing, private, and vulnerable as I feel to write about it for others to see, I feel led and compelled to tell my story. I would say that I was always aware of my appearance. I really wanted to be thinner; and that desire went back to elementary school. I remember walking into kindergarten feeling fat, and sucking in my stomach. I was definitely insecure for the majority of going to school. When I was going through middle school, my parents were going through a divorce. Coupled with new step parents, new homes, and family troubles, I certainly struggled (as many middle school students do) to gain an understanding of what confidence was. My mom is someone who likes to be sure to fix problems. I think she saw that my sister and I were struggling with lack of confidence, and she ...

I think I am a control freak because I am human. I want things my way. I have my own perception of how my day should look, and I get easily frustrated if it doesn't go how I want it to. I have an idea of how I should look, what I should say, who I am, and who the people around me are; if that makes sense. And I have built these images up in my head because of my life experiences. Perception is quite the interesting thing, isn't it? We all perceive things to be a certain way. And I believe that this is a God given gift to man. Without it, would we get much done? I don't believe that we would. We are made in His image, and I think that all of us want things to be good in our lives. When they aren't, we get uncomfortable. Circumstance often drives me. If my day was easy, I can rest easy. But what is easy for me, might not be easy for you and vise versa. It's our own image of how we think our lives should go. Years ago, someone gave me a picture of a cross. It was r...

God's love is infinite. He sent His son for me, to die in my place. So that I could have eternal life. This is unquestionable, yet unfathomable . I can't fully wrap my head around God's love for me. It is probably the hardest part about faith. I can understand the logistics of Noah's arc, and I know about Moses' law. I get that Paul was imprisoned for his faith, and that John the baptist ate locusts and honey. I get the facts. But there are so many times that I get stumped when I try to consider God's love for me. Paul writes that He knew me before I was born. He died for me. The fact that the same Person who made the Milky Way and the depths of the ocean, and the sky, and the Plumeria plant, loves me. I can't wrap my head around it. I know how not worthy I am. I feel like such a disaster. I know that I don't do enough for God's kingdom. I know that I am such a sinner. But  He doesn't care. He chases me. He loves me. Last weekend, I painted...

Am I the only one who thinks of myself as innocent? My automatic reaction to most things said against me is to become defensive. I almost always immediately think I am right. When I consider the actions that I take, I don't naturally think of them as wrong. I know my motives, and generally think of myself as good. When I make a mistake, I feel badly. Like I need to make up for it. It's almost like I am shocked that I am capable of such things. Because I am a good person. I don't mean to ever be prideful, or judgemental, or decrepit. I just need to vent about others, and I have good reason to disparage others. And other people are corrupt. They make me say bad things. Or they are stupid. They don't make good choices in life. Most certainly, they don't have the same good motives as me. When someone does something against me, I want to react. It would be ludicrous to consider what might be the rationale behind their actions. There is a part of me that understands t...