Christian One-Liners

Don't let your worries get the best of you; Remember, Moses started out as a basket case.

Some people are kind, polite, and sweet-spirited Until you try to sit in their pews.

Many folks want to serve God, But only as advisers.

It is easier to preach ten sermons Than it is to live one.

The good Lord didn't create anything without a purpose, But mosquitoes come close.

When you get to your wit's end, You'll find God lives there.

People are funny; they want the front of the bus, Middle of the road, And back of the church.

Opportunity may knock once, But temptation bangs on the front door forever.

Quit griping about your church; If it was perfect, you couldn't belong.

If a church wants a better pastor, It only needs to pray for the one it has.

We're called to be witnesses, not lawyers or Judges.

God Himself doesn't propose to judge a man until he is dead. So why should you?

Some minds are like concrete Thoroughly mixed up and permanently set.

Peace starts with a smile.

I don't know why some people change churches; What difference does it make which one you stay home from?

A lot of church members singing 'Standing on the Promises' Are just sitting on the premises.

Be ye fishers of men. You catch 'em - He'll clean 'em.

"Stop, Drop, and Roll" won't work in Hell.

Coincidence is when God chooses to remain anonymous.

Don't put a question mark where God put a period..

Don't wait for 6 strong men to take you to church..

Forbidden fruits create many jams.

God doesn't call the qualified, He qualifies the called.

God grades on the cross, not the curve.

God loves everyone, But probably prefers 'fruits of the spirit' over 'religious nuts!'

God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage.

He who angers you, controls you!

If God is your Co-pilot, swap seats!

Prayer: Don't give God instructions, just report for duty!

The task ahead of us is never as great as the Power behind us.

The Will of God never takes you to where the Grace of God will not protect you.

We don't change the message, The message changes us.

You can tell how big a person is By what it takes to discourage him.

The best mathematical equation I have ever seen: 1 cross + 3 nails = 4 given.

my thoughts get in my way

I am up late, seems like most nights, but for sure on one recent evening. My mind went racing, racing, racing down the rabbit hole. Along the way, I thought of ten really good blogs to write about. Thoughts that consume me in the wee hours of the night, over and over again. These are the things I must keep locked up inside, and really I just hope that I can remember them long enough to get them down on my "electronic paper" so that they may be put to rest in my soul. Ask me know what they were about though, and well, they are gone! Even in my mind, I can write them in my animated fashion, a woven story that I tell myself, or perhaps that someone may read along with me. I don't actually know who reads my blog, but I really just write it for myself anyway. I love to write. It is a passion that I turned away from years ago when I decided that a degree in Business would take me further than trying to attend Northwestern and majoring in Journalism.

But here I sit, trying to remember...

~ Time to Drop the Boxing Gloves
~ A New Movie, A New Home?
~ Watching the Budget
~ Remembering the Things I Used to Love
~ Learning to Trust, Even When I Don't Like the Answer

Hollyhood

My students are funny... DSM just brought in his cell phone (another productive day in Advanced Marketing) to show me a picture of Hollyhood from MTV. He said, holy cow Ms. Tango, she looks just like you!

Should I be worried? I don't have a lot of MTV time these days! I figure based on her name, and her facials in the picture, I am one ghetto fabulous look-alike! LOL

I so rarely write erraneous things, but it is Friday, so I figured I might just wanna give it a try!

~Cause when you're teachin' in the hood it's do or die! JK

Feeling sheepish

I really thought that teaching would just go my way... I would get to be at the school I wanted, when I wanted, positions would be available, and I would make it work around my life. Last night, I was at a basketball game. I was there ALL day, and saw several administrators come and go. I had the opportunity to talk to the assistant principal first, he remembered his LONG commutes in the early days too. I heard of his different experiences in different districts, and how he weaved his way to where he was today.

I heard the same stories from the principal, and from teachers who I trust. People who are my friends, whom I hope to work with. We all had common grounds, the quiet time we come to appreciate while decompressing from the long journey between school and home.

My eyes are wide open now. As I turned the car around and headed back to school. Wondering how bad it was going to be. One of my poms had run away. Gone from school, gone from my supervision, out on the street. When you hear the fear in a father's voice, you take it personally. When I carefully, head down, walked in to tell the principal, I didn't quite expect the response I would receive. I thought I would lose my job, right there, on the spot. I thought of the million things that could happen to my athlete. What did I see?

My principal looked at me, and said, "So? Tell the dad if she is still gone on Monday to set up a meeting with me, and go home to your family." I did my part anyway, I went and told the officer, I talked to her dad, I called my girls, and then I stayed up until 1:30 in the morning, when I received a text saying she was home. The principal, the security guard at school, and the school resource officer were all correct, she did make her own choices, choices that had nothing to do with me. I did eat a Big Mac and some fries, followed by some popcorn. More food than I have consumed in days. I knew that without money, transportation or a cell phone, she would come home eventually.

Life is about choices. I chose to follow the serenity prayer.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.

The newest chapter... They call me "miss"

I can hear their little voices now. They are sitting in my classroom, talking about work, friends, school. Everywhere I look, I see beautiful brown faces. This place is like nothing I have even imagined. I am the kind of teacher that I want to be here.

It is hard to believe that 45 minutes away from everything I have ever known exists a parallel universe. These students have real issues, not the kind that the suburbia child I have come to know so well, but the kind where they come to school so they have the opportunity to eat a meal for the day. It is not uncommon to have a student actual use words like "fuck", "shit" or "douche" in sentences when they are speaking directly to me. Words that I feel naughty for even typing, but words that I can show little to no emotion over when I hear them ringing through my ears.

There is another word, I hear it almost every time a student opens their mouth. They call me "miss", not Mrs. Tanguma, Ms. T, Tango... nope, just miss. They call all the women teachers in the building this name. It is their way of not allowing them to feel a connection to you. If they act like they don't know you, then they don't take it to seriously when they ditch your class, or dissapoint you. They think it gives them the right to be lazy or uncomitted. I can see that it is a part of their world, so engrained in who they are, they say it without realization at all.

I told them how it makes me feel. I have even answered their questions and called them student. They tell me I am different than their other teachers. They ask me why I am always so happy to see them. They ask me why I say hello to them in the hall. I have been with them 3 days, 3 days, and yet, I feel like I have meant more to them than most people. It isn't a dream though... I really do care about them. I see their overwhelming potential. It is as though God himself has given me a tiny little window into thier heart's desires. I can feel their struggles, I can see their fear.
They see that I am serious, my classroom will be a safe haven, a place where they can take risks, answer questions, talk openly (well to an extent). They laugh when I shoot them a mom look.

I have to tell you the truth... They actually call me Mrs. Tanguma now. I guess it doesn't take long to earn their respect, when you treat them like they are humans. When they call me "Miss", I also understand that it is part of their culture, one I need to learn to embrace the same way. Sometimes, when the mood is light, I call them on it, and sometimes, I just answer the question and move on.

I can see the lessons and values I will be learning. I can see how they will disappoint me. I can see how easy it is to love someone else's child, worry for someone else's child, and be angry with someone else's child. Having my own classroom is a journey... And so the story will continue.

Reflection

Things were bad at church, it is hard to watch and grow through those kinds of things. I can see that God has His mighty hand in the situation, and the pain and loss of trust I feel will be healed in time. I have maintained my composure through it all, even making sure that the computers are in perfect working order, stuff is transferred over, blah, blah, blah. But truth be told, what choice did I have? Mari is attached to the building and the people in it. I expect to see a huge tranformation from the Holy spirit for those individuals who hurt me so deeply.

I would love to change churches, to go back to the Catholic church again. Maybe try out some different places. I know that when I was sitting at a funeral, in the very church Ernesto and I met, I looked around at those walls, the stained glass windows, the reverence and beauty. More than anything, it reminded me of a time when I felt so much love. God moved mountains, He opened doors and He created life once again in this old heart. That church holds something sacred for me. Was it my sign to return to the Catholic church? Or was it my reminder that church is about the relationship we carry with our Lord and not the flaws of the individuals who try and run it.

Time will tell, wounds will heal... Plus, my what mighty doors He has lovingly opened for me.

Just pondering...

It is official, this week, I am back at church, staring at a monitor, trying to get my mind around the last 16 weeks. I miss my students so much, and then again, waking up with my girls in the morning certainly has its own set of perks. I feel like Iliana has grown and changed so very much. I wonder if it was right to miss her fiorst 18 months of life, and yet, I still know and love her all the same.

I cannot believe the love and support of my husband through all of this. He has had to be Mr. Mom on so many levels, helping around the house with the chores, editing all of my papers, listening to my endless stories and thoughts as an "expert educator". I can see why the ladies love him, thank God, he only has eyes for me! :0)

On my last night of class, we all went out for a celebratory dinner. It was so much fun to wrap things up, and again, it had a bittersweet feeling. I never would have imagined meeting such a unique group of classmates. Shiloh, Erin, Rich, Rob, Maria all people with whom I will remain friends with for a lifetime. We really couldn't come from a more diverse walk of life, and yet, LOVE THEM ALL!

It was really the ride home though, that took on a different life form than I was prepared for. Cheri called to inform me that one of my students had killed herself. She was in my 4th period class, and I had spent COUNTLESS hours tutoring her, meeting with her before and after class, during advisement, on and on... I felt my heart shatter in a thousand tiny pieces. It isn't about me, or my personal loss, it is about the relationship that I formed with my students, and how quickly they can enter and exit our lives.

Her funeral was not a place of healing for me. It was a place and time when the Lord was speaking to me about a generation of individuals who don't see the relevance. I listened to her friends line up and say how much they loved her because she was so random. Random, random, random... the word played out over and over in my mind. Why don't they understand that random is chaos and disorder. It causes fear and confusion. Random is a feeling, perhps a desire, or a trait that is a worldy view. Random causes destruction, and there is only one who wishes to destroy.

I tried to blame it on their body piercings, their multi-colored hair, their dark clothes, dark make-up and lost eyes... But, I was quickly reminded of my two little friends in advisement. I did learn a lot about the world of peircings and blue hair dye from them. I watched their fights, their boyfriends, I encouraged them to become friends again, get their grades up, stop lying to their parents. On the day I left school, I received a letter from one of the girls. She told me about the impact I had on her life, how it was my words that encouraged her to stay in school and try harder, how lost she would have been without my smile each and every day. Nope, it has nothing to do with how a student looks on the outside.

I will pray each day that the Lord reveal only enough to me about the hearts and minds of my students to keep me encouraged, and feverent in prayer for their truth and wisdom. Sitting here at church, working, answering phones... it is certianly one form of serving His almighty kingdom. Getting my hands dirty in the trenches, and using only my example of His love... yep, that is another form of servitude. Which one is better? I guess they are just two different kinds of love!