Here's to Teachers Who See the Awesome!

I was an awkward teenager.  I didn’t know how to style my hair; I didn’t own any make-up, and I was completely clueless when it came to boys.  They simply weren’t on my radar screen.  It’s as if I have always been a “librarian in training.”  I wore sweaters to school, had glasses on my face, and I spent too many quiet evenings at home reading books.

I spent a lot of time in the library too.  I was a great student, but what motivated me above the thrill and joy of learning was shame.  I felt like a failure for having a physical disability. I hated my body.  I wanted to weave something to cover all of the awkwardness up, so I made a robe from my perfect academics, except they weren’t perfect; I only had a 3.9 G.P.A. in a line-up of several people with 4.0s.  

I remember not liking high school.  I remember wanting the whole experience to be over.  I remember wanting to be an adult.

I also remember that moment sitting in Mr. Olsen’s English class as a junior when he stood in front of us and said, “You all need to learn how to speak.  This class is very talented and I know there are many of you who will one day make some very important speeches.  I want you to be prepared.”

I squirmed in my seat; hopeful and disappointed at the same time.  I knew that I would never address my classmates at commencement, but somehow I knew he was talking to me.  Mr. Olsen was a unique kind of teacher—one who taught beyond the curriculum and considered the whole student.  He wanted to know my name as much as he wanted me to enjoy The Great Gatsby.  He saw me a whole person; he dared to see my talent in the midst of my awkwardness.

I remembered him throughout college as I pushed myself to do better.  When I stood before 7,000 people at St. Cloud State University on Mother’s Day 2006, delivering my valedictory speech, I smiled, not only because of my achievements and honors, but because Mr. Olsen was right—I was making that very important speech.

I always wanted to thank Mr. Olsen for believing in me, and this summer I got my chance.  I ran into him at Perkins one morning and thanked him.  He turned to me, smiled, and said, “I knew you had it in you kid.”
 
Did you have a teacher along the way who helped “reveal the awesome” potential in you?  This week is American Education Week.  What better time to e-mail your alma matter, hop on to Linked In, or look up your teacher on Facebook.  Tell them what an impact they have made; you will be glad you did.

Enjoy this video by Kid President.  (If you can't see the video below, visit this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RwlhUcSGqgs)

Finding the Courage to Be Myself: My reaction to being seen on WCCO

There are moments in my life when, because I have cerebral palsy, I don’t like being myself.  I feel inadequate, awkward, and tired.  I wonder how people perceive me and if they like what they see.  But, after this happened last week, I found the courage and confidence to like being myself.  I realized it was okay to let myself be seen, even though my butt sticks out when I stand, my arms get spastic when I'm excited, and my feet are covered with Reeboks because of the inserts and AFO that holds me up each day. Seeing myself on screen, helped me see, that even in the midst of all that awkwardness, I am beautiful.  I like what I see and so do other people.  For the first time, in a long time, I was happy about the place I am at in life, the work God is doing, and the people He has called me to.  I finally wanted to be me! 

Thank you for the tremendous outpouring of support over the past few days.  I am secure in my conviction that I am loved.

Please enjoy the letter and videos that follow.  I did receive permission to share this letter in its entirety from Aimee Libby. Aimee, this is one of the most beautiful letters I've ever read.  Thank you for taking the time to write it and for honoring me.

From: Aimee Libby
Subject: Excellent Educator nomination
Date: October 4, 2013 at 3:56:42 PM CDT
To: morning@wcco.com

Hello,

 My name is Aimee Libby and I have two kids who attend St. Michael Elementary (STME) in St. Michael, MN. My oldest child (Peyton) has special needs from an injury at birth, and is in 3rd grade at STME. Peyton struggles with Expressive & Receptive Language Disorder and Global Apraxia (both neurological planning/processing disorders). We have been at STME for three years, and while we have met and interacted with countless amazing staff members there both in the regular ed and SPED classrooms, there's one person in particular who has had a huge impact on our family – and who is making a HUGE impact on our entire community. Her name is Jenny Hill. She is the Media Specialist at STME, and she was born at 29 weeks gestation with Cerebral Palsy. The very first week our daughter, Peyton, was at STME, she came home raving about "Miss Hill". I had no idea who she was, so I looked her up on the school staff directory online. I remember thinking, "Weird, she's just the librarian". When my husband and I asked Peyton why she liked Miss Hill so much, her response was, "She's different. Like me." Little did we know that Ms. Hill was very actively teaching so much more than simply how to check out a book.

 Over the past few years, we've gotten to know Miss Hill and have been amazed at what a great asset she is to STME and to our community. She's very open with the kids about her disability. In talking with her, we have been so encouraged to hear her mission as an educator - to make sure every student knows they are loved, appreciated, and respected. I once asked her how she's able to so freely discuss her disability after having such a difficult time growing up, feeling as though she was alone and without any friends. I know for myself, it's often difficult to talk about or explain my daughter's disability to others, but Jenny does it with grace and ease. Her response blew me away, she said, "I have seen that sharing my story has the power to provide hope, inspiration, and encouragement to others who are struggling". Wow.

About a year and a half ago I helped start a Special Olympics team here in St. Michael-Albertville…and Jenny has been one of our biggest fans! She invited my daughter and I to be a part of the daily "morning news" at STME during "Acceptance Week" last April to help inform the kids what Special Olympics is all about, she has helped promote fundraisers for our team, she has also been doing an amazing job encouraging kids to look beyond people's disability (whether physical or cognitive). Through sharing her story and being transparent to both students and staff at her building, she's trailblazing a beautiful path for all current and future students with special needs/disabilities to walk down – one that is filled with cheerleaders along the way and even friends walking ON that path with them, hand-in-hand. Jenny is promoting acceptance, but more importantly, she is working so very hard to teach each student she comes in contact with that "different" is good. Because deep down, we're all "different" in one way or another.

 We can't say enough good things about Miss Hill! And we'd love for her to be recognized for all that she's doing (much of which she probably doesn't even realize) simply by being herself and being open with everyone regarding her disability. She is truly one in a million and we're so lucky to have her at STME!

Thanks for your time and consideration!
 Sincerely,
Aimee Libby

On Thursday morning, Edward Moody from WCCO showed up in the middle of my first class to hand me an award and name me their Excellent Educator of the Week.
If you cannot see the video embedded below, visit this link: http://minnesota.cbslocal.com/video/9505775-excellent-educator-jenny-hill-at-st-michael-elementary/




I also want to express my gratitude for Steve Wiens in how he honored me this weekend at Church of the Open Door.  If have time, please watch this message in its entirety.  It is very good.  Steve tells my story around the 20 minute mark.  Here is the link: http://vimeo.com/79120409

Jesus Wept

The fellowship of suffering….I experienced it last week when I opened up about the pain of being stared at in public.  Many of you who responded were people who have experienced this pain yourself.  Your reaction was not one of pity or encouragement, but rather expressions of understanding, “Well said.” “Thank you.”  “I’ve had similar experiences.”  This is the fellowship of suffering—when what we read points to our pain with such pressure we can feel it, and at the same time brings relief because the words have brought friendship to our grief.

This, however, leads to a good question.

How do we react when we haven’t had similar experiences?  What do we do when our friends and family are facing the unbearable?  What do we say when all of our words and information seem cheap and wrong and the best option it would seem, is to say nothing, yet it is these situations which cry the loudest for our concern?

This is not the time to try to fix things.

It’s not the time to offer friendly advice or a story.

Please don’t send a message to “think on the bright side.”

I think these are the times when we must learn to sit with one another in the midst of pain and weep.

This is not an easy thing to learn.

Let’s face it; many of us are reserved native Minnesotans, myself included.  I also have Norwegian roots.  I’m not a crier.  It’s like Tom Hanks  has been two inches away from my ear my whole life screaming, “There’s no crying!!”

But, as I continue to interact with people who are suffering, I am slowly learning how to weep.  It’s like I hold it all inside until it’s pressing down on my chest.  When I sit down alone to pray, it all comes out with so much force I can hardly breathe.  I’ve learned to thank God for these moments, to ask Him for tears and to thank Him when they come because a hard cry seems to be the only release and the only authentic expression I can offer.

Jesus did this.

In John 35:11, upon hearing of Lazarus’ death, we read the famous line, “Jesus wept.”  Jesus, who had just boldly proclaimed to Martha that He was “The Resurrection and the Life,” the only One who could really fix the situation, was reduced to tears when he saw other people’s pain.  He wept with them.  He joined with them in their suffering.  It was this act that caused the crowd to cry, “See how he loved him!”

Want to read more?  Tanya Marlow is a minister, blogger, and a person who lives with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.  Read what she has to say in an article written for Relevant Magazine.

Photo Credit

What it feels like to be stared at in public

I’ve been stared at by men and women alike in public.  It’s an odd thing, catching the eye of someone observing the way I walk.  When it’s a woman, she’s usually elderly and experiencing some kind of mobility issue herself.  There’s this weird moment of one-upmanship where she glances at me from head to toe, giving a nod that says, Yes, we’re both struggling to move, but at least I didn’t look like you in my 20s!  I’m winning!

The occasions where men have stared at me have been a different experience.

It happened once in college at a party when a man looked at me and demanded, “Are you limping!?” and continued to stare until I gave him an answer.  I wanted to throw my milk in his face.

It happened when I took my first doctoral course at Bethel University.  I stepped off an elevator to witness a man watch me walk down the hall.  I turned and caught him in the act.  He gulped and turned red. 

It happened last April while walking into a coffee shop.  I thought the man going in the door was checking me out as I walked toward him.  I could feel his eyes on me.    As I got nearer, I realized he was gawking at the way I walk---then I watched him frown.  What he saw was disappointing.

In that moment, I wanted to say all kinds of angry things, but, I said nothing. I let him open the door for me, and watched him find a table, where he proceeded to pull out his big bible and concordance.

Being stared at is like being stared through.  Only the shell of your being is seen; your soul goes unnoticed.  It hurts.  It cuts in a way that leaves a mark.  It makes you want to stay inside, stay home, and stay single!  It challenges you to believe that what you have to offer the world is unwelcome.

Even though you know you’re valuable, you feel you’ve just been appraised and found lacking.  Even though you are loved by many people in your life, you go home and ask dark questions, “Does everyone look at me this way; are some just better at hiding it than others?”  “Am I always going to be disappointing?”  “What is it about me that needs to change?”

All of these painful experiences of being stared at in public have taught me this:

How we see each other matters. 

Looks can pierce. They can also heal.
 
You and I get to decide what role we’re going to play.

Perhaps one of the most powerful gifts we can ever give away is to love someone with our eyes—to make eye contact and smile.  Being seen in a way that acknowledges the soul can change a person.  Some of the pain of the past can melt.  When a person sees eyes staring back at them, reflecting love, not disappointment, they realize they are safe to be themselves, even when all of their flaws are on display.  It gives them courage to believe that what they have to offer the world is not only welcome, but a much richer place because of it.

Let’s love each other well.  Let’s do it with our eyes.

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To Love Another Person Is To See the Face of God!

My earliest memories of listening to Les Miserables are sitting in the back of Dad’s truck, leaning towards the cassette player as a copy of the Original London Cast rang out from the speakers.  What was this beautiful sound that delighted my ears and stirred my soul?  Who were these intriguing people singing with such passion and desire?  As their names and stories tangled and wove within my mind, I was even more drawn to the music.

I would turn the pages of the Star Tribune on Sunday afternoons while lying on the living room floor.  When I would see an ad with Cosette’s hair waving in the wind, I would spring up and beg, “Can we please go see the show?”

The answer was always, “When you’re older.”

So, as I grew, I learned the story of Les Mis: Jean Valjean’s crime, Javert’s pursuit, Fantine’s sickness, Cosette’s misery, Eponine’s heartbreak, Marius’ love.  I remember pouring over Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations in seventh grade at the public library.  I was composing an art project that I wanted to conclude with a rich quote from Victor Hugo.  It was here that I came across this little gem, “The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we all are loved.”  It’s still one of my favorites.

On a hot August evening in 2002, I finally saw the show.  From the opening act to the curtain call, my heart was gripped as I watched the stage turning through the years; all the scenes I had imagined as a little girl were finally coming to life.  I heard the people sing!  I wanted to join in their crusade!  The end of the show is so passionate and real; it still brings tears to my eyes and turns my heart towards justice.

The show concludes with this famous line, “Remember, the truth that once was spoken; to love another person is to see the face of God!”

This is a line that has lingered in my mind since the early days of sitting in Dad’s truck, drinking in the words with wonder.  What does this mean?  It’s a truth I’ve pondered while driving to work, drinking my morning coffee, or lying in bed at night.

Of course, I think it means that when we stare into the eyes of another we have the chance to behold God’s crowning beauty.  We are created in the image of God and when we truly stop to peer into another’s soul, we learn more about what God looks like.

I also believe that love can change our perspective.  (See 1 Peter 4:8).  When we look through the lens of love, we see beyond pain to behold the promise of redemption.  We remember the blood of Jesus covers us and offers forgiveness.  This is true and available not only for our friends and our enemies, but also for us.  God looks at us not with anger, but with compassion.  Holding this perspective helps us look at others the same way.

Lately, I’ve come to realize this:  When we love another person, they have the opportunity to see the face of God.  God’s lavish qualities are so vast, they are sometimes hard to grasp.  It is these qualities that are often best understood when they are first reflected in another person.

I know God loves me, but I feel it most vividly when I’m wrapped in a hug.

I know God hears me, I but I see it most l clearly when people show up in my life meeting needs and desires I have never vocalized outside of prayer. 

I know God redeems, but I saw it first when Prisoner 24601 became Jean Valjean.

What does “To love another person is to see the face of God!” mean to you?

Here is the finale.  The famous line happens in the last minute.

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Facebook is where I friended envy. She is the green-eyed monster.

 There came a point last spring where I had to take a break from Facebook.  One morning I woke up and realized that I was looking at other people’s lives every day as if they were flash cards, hard-wiring my brain to continually focus on all that I didn’t have: a husband, kids, an active social life, vacations, money….


I would sit in front of my laptop and see other people’s lives take off, their careers advance, their contributions noticed.  Instead of becoming thankful for all the work God was doing in the lives of the people I knew, I became angry.  I wished God was blessing my life in the same ways.

Facebook is where I friended Envy.  She is the green-eyed monster.

I tried to keep this monster at bay, told myself it’s just part of human nature, but when I couldn’t handle it anymore, I closed my laptop, cried about it before God, and I told my girlfriends. 

They did something about it.

The next week one of them showed up with this fabulous blog post and podcast, Smiting the Green-Eyed Monster.  If you have 15 minutes or are struggling with envy yourself, I highly recommend it.

When we were done listening, we took out paper and markers, and my girlfriends wrote out all the things they were thankful for in their lives.  I took a different route.  On one page I wrote out a confession, detailing someone I was envious of and why.  One the second page I wrote out a prayer, asking God to bless this person, thanking God for all the ways He has blessed their life.  We went around the circle and shared our creations.

It was powerful.

Envy hasn’t totally un-friended me after one evening, but here’s what I’m learning about her:

1.  Sometimes we need to take a break from social media.  Not only because these tools can breed envy, but also because we need silence.  Somewhere within the mixture of jealousy, covetousness, and envy, may lay honest desires.  All of this needs to be unpacked and opened before God and maybe even a few good friends.

2.  We can fight envy with thankfulness.  When we see God at work in someone’s life, we have a tremendous opportunity to join Him in the work He is already doing by thanking Him and asking for His continual blessing.  The diversity within the Body of Christ is breathtaking and sublime, but She is the most stunning when we are all playing our own unique role, not when we’re chasing after and trying to steal someone else’s part.

3.  Finally, God really is enough.  Not only for the people you see who are being blessed but also for you.  I don’t think we always believe this is true because of the picture we carry. Sometimes the “enough” of God looks like cheap plastic wrap covering a bowl.  It’s stretching and tearing, barely making a fit.

When in fact, I believe, the “enough” of God is like being covered in a big green priestly robe.  You hold out your arms to discover that not only are the sleeves long enough, but the whole thing is made of generous amounts of fabric, rich and deep, covering us so we are ready to serve Him.

Has Facebook made you envious?  How are you fighting it?

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Why Keep Going? Musings on continuing a doctorate

I'm guest blogging today at The Well.  It's a "gathering place for women in graduate school and beyond."  I wrote about a topic I don't discuss very often...the pursuit of my doctorate.  Enjoy!

“Why are you getting your doctorate?” 

“You’re nuts!”

“I’d never do that.”

I’m two years into the process of pursuing my doctorate and when I hear comments like these, they make me pause and consider:

• My dwindling bank account, rising tuition costs, and unsubsidized loans.
• The crippling fatigue I feel when the week is over. I’ve just worked 40+ hours, completed coursework in the evening, and tried to juggle relationships.
• The nakedness of my ring finger.
• My house that looks like a neglected child: dishes in the sink, piles of laundry, and a continually barren refrigerator.  My bathroom looks like a crime scene.

I try to “read for fun,” but my brain is too over-stimulated to take in more information.  Read more: http://thewell.intervarsity.org/blog/why-keep-going-musings-continuing-doctorate