Letting Go of Good Things

Here's a rambling of my ideas, as of late.

It's been hard for me to write this fall, since starting at Timothy. You may notice that, over the past two years, it's been harder for me to write consistently. I think it has *something* to do with the juggling act of adulthood that hit me all at once when I got married, moved to the suburbs, and switched jobs to have my own classroom. All at once. 

I got bogged down with things like laundry and grocery shopping and cleaning and lesson planning and summer jobbing and it all just took over my day-to-day. 

Teddy and me. 

I have this habit in the morning that I've fallen into over the past few years. While I'm blow-drying my hair, instead of focusing on the styling thereof, I sit and scroll through interesting articles on social media and various news outlets. I get updated on the world and the world of my friends, both of the real and Facebook varieties. 

Well, this morning on my daily catch-up, I came across a post from Elizabeth Gilbert that was really great. Here's part of it: 

"Long ago, when I was struggling to become a writer, a wise older woman once said to me, "What are you willing to give up, in order to have the life you keep saying you want?"

I said, "You're right — I really need to start learning how to say no to things I don't want to do."

She corrected me: "No, it's much harder than that. You need to learn how start saying no to things you DO want to do, with the recognition that you have only one life, and you don't have time and energy for everything."

So she continued on with a statement she posed to many good, but needing-to-be-cut things in her life. This is what she said to them: I love you, but I'm letting you go. 

This just resonated with me so much. This fall has been one big blur without the catharsis of writing in my life. It was the beginning of the year rush and then the October slump and now we're entering the holiday hustle and oh my goodness I have hardly processed what's been going on. My life has been ruled a little too strongly by media of all kinds. From news to Facebook to Instagram to Netflix to Hulu to Huffington to blogs to Vine when I'm feeling ridiculous and everything in between. If I look back, this media monster has probably eaten hours and hours of my life this fall. In some ways, media is great. It connects me to the world and all that nonsense, but it really kind of disconnects me in the end. I've been consuming so much that I've been losing my ability to create. The only thing I've written in the last little while that I've been any ounce of proud about was my little tribute to my Grandpa Gesch. My uncle Curt dubbed it to be "perfect," and that is just about the best validation I could've asked for, coming from such a fantastic writer. 

So I've decided to take a note from Liz Gilbert, such an incredible writer herself, and say to my overkill on media: I love you, but I'm letting you go. I thought about it long and hard, and I figured out that the things that make me feel creative and alive and myself are the two simplest: reading and writing. And I'm not going to confuse reading with scrolling. I just started the book we'll be reading for book club when we meet over Thanksgiving weekend. And so as a part of all of this I'm back here, feeling good about writing, checking in on my life, and archiving where I'm at right now. 

So what have I been up to? 

One small struggle is that I am missing a lot from year to year. I miss last year. I really, really miss Calvin Christian School. I miss the city life. I miss living with roommates with whom I could share clothes. I miss my Teach For America hustle and realness and colleagues. I miss attending grad school (I know, nerd alert.) I miss living with my best college friends. I miss a lot. And I've only been at this adulating thing for three and a half years. 

Brian has been a huge catalyst for me becoming who I am going to be this year. He is here, he is supportive, and he is so, so dependable. I'm not even here, supportive, or dependable for myself! He gets the teacher thing, and I love building our friendship right along with our marriage. Sometimes I roll my eyes in annoyance at his quirks, and then sometimes I sigh with relief as he endures all of mine. Sometimes we watch dumb TV shows together (Hello, Bob's Burgers) and completely get each other. Sometimes we are in the day to day and that's all it feels like: a regular old routine day where our paths don't do too much crossing. Sometimes I can't even believe how much I love him. It's all of the above. 

One huge effort in my life is that I've been looking for and grasping at community out here in the Western suburbs. We've joined a small group in Oak Park, I've been attending a Writer's Group with my mother-in-law (actually super cool), joined a Thursday night volleyball league, I'm joining/starting a book club with my friend Reese, and I started a more intense Bible study with my mentor and another girl from church. When I see all of that in one list, I feel pretty proud. I'm starting to feel a little more grounded in all of life. I know and can surely feel that the grind of the fourth year of teaching in the third consecutive school is getting to me too, with all the upheaval that goes along with that. But these little groups, little connections that God has allowed me to receive, have made me feel oh so much more connected. To other people, to myself, to Him.

So thanks, Liz Gilbert, for the advice. I miss a lot of things. I'm learning to let some of those go to make way for the new. 

My 26 Before 27

It's time! I love lists and I love setting goals. Partly, of course, to break the rules and feel rebellious while I ignore them, but also to set a purpose for the next leg of the path. Yesterday I checked in on my goals from last year and I made some pretty cool progress! I'm starting out this new phase of 26-year-old-hood, and here is what I'm going to try to do during it:

1. Run in 2 events. Something about paying 30 bucks for a t-shirt and bib number makes me actually train and prepare for an event. I'd like to bring back at least two events into my schedule, as this year didn't have any.

2. Make someone a meal for a baby/life change/just because. I've watched my mom bless so many people throughout the course of my life through cooking meals. I honestly think she's packing up a meal for another family every time I call home. I remember my Grandma Gesch's letters in college always included an anecdote about how wonderful my mom is for cooking for them. It's not a bad thing to be known for feeding other people. Time for me to get on it.

3. Consider a permanent living sitch. Not that we can predict the future, but I know we would like to get into a house one day. This will be the year where research, saving, and planning takes on a more prominent and serious place in our daily discussion. I'm already addicted to RedFin, so oops. This would potentially be a HUGE step for us, and the idea of it already overwhelms me and makes me ridiculously giddy and exhausts me all at once.

4. Make risotto. Dang. We had risotto at the wedding last weekend and it was so good that it really went beyond description. Plus, being able to say that I can make risotto sounds super fancy, and you all know how #imsofancy

5. Stay updated on international news. One of the few great things about an extra long commute last year was the time spent listening to the radio. I was ridiculously up-to-date about all the things. I want to continue on in my news-junkie-dom.

6. Read all of the Psalms. When I think of times when the rubber hits the road, my heart is usually led to the Psalms. My dad sings the Psalms to old ladies in the nursing homes, and I dare you to find me an OCS graduate who can't recite Psalm 8 complete with the actions. I think it's a good place for this fickle-Bible-reader to start her 26th year.

7. Exercise in ways besides running. I screwed up my ankle big time this past spring in a pickup game of volleyball. When I was talking to my Physical Therapist and explained that I usually only run and don't do much else in terms of cross training or variety, she responded with a big DUH ANNA speech, saying that I needed to do other things too. So there you go. Personal trainer friends, I'm open to suggestions!

8. Have a sleepover. So I miss college and wanna watch movies with my friends, okay?

9. Take a class to learn a new skill. Calligraphy? Knitting? Ventriloquism? Time will tell.

10. Floss every day. I try, you guys. I really try. The latest trip to the dentist sent me off with a new resolve to make this happen. (I asked, "Is 3 times a week impressive?" And the lady was like "Mmmmm. Sorry honey.")

11. Make a math group project for my kids. Okay, this is a stupid teacher goal that non-teachers might not appreciate, but I hear and see all of these cool things that veteran teachers do with group projects. Meanwhile, I'm differentiating my little tail off so that every kid gets his or her individual needs met. That's all fine and good, but kids just really love the chance to create stuff together. I'm going to try to do this somehow in Math this year. Teacher friends, I'm open to suggestions!

12. Girls road trip. Brian will be gone for a week in January and a week in March for trips with his high school students. Therefore, I've resolved to get in the car and head out on the open road as well. This summer's trip with Karley and Liz only reinforced my desire to do this more often.

13. Get a library card. HAVING FUN ISN'T HARD...WHEN YOU'VE GOT A LIBRARY CARD! Plus I spend way too much on books. Oops. 

14. Read a new YA fiction series. Harry Potter really made my soul so happy this year, and I want to keep that YA joy flowing. I realize that nothing will ever measure up, but there's something about a series that's so addicting in the best possible way. Nerd friends, I'm open to suggestions!

15. Stay in bed until noon. SO. For the past two years, I've made it a goal to get up early to see the sunrise. And failed. Miserably. So I decided to take it in another direction. I haven't done the noon thing since college, and goodness knows that drifting in and out of sleep on a Saturday morning can be pretty freaking fantastic. It's like a goal to be lazy! I can't wait!

16. Watch every Seinfeld episode in order of its chronological release. All 180 epodes. Giddy-up.

17. Keep a plant alive under my supervision. Meanwhile, everyone I know is pregnant.

18. Try a cleaning schedule. Okay, before you write this one off as definitely not going to happen, I think if I chunk up the cleaning jobs, I won't let it build up because it's too much at once. Here's what I'm thinking: Monday is laundry day, Tuesday is floor day, Wednesday is kitchen day, Thursday is bathroom day, and Friday is for clutter. Saturday and Sunday will no longer be spent with shame and guilt-ridden hours of looking around at the mess and being too overwhelmed to chip away at any of it.

19. Visit The Wizarding World of Harry Potter. WHO'S WITH ME?!

20. Do something for this refugee crisis. You've all read Ann Voskamp's suggestions at how we can be a small help in this world full of brokenness, right? I want to stop reading headlines and start writing checks. Compared to most people on this planet, I am ridiculously wealthy. God is extravagantly generous with me - why can't I give a refugee kid a new backpack? There are so many little things we can do. Let's start doing them.

21. Attend a festival. Complete with a flower garland in my hairzzzz.

22. Watch the long Pride and Prejudice. Who would like to set aside a Saturday and do this with me? Oh hello, Colin Firth circa 1995. Hello there. 

23. Attend a theater or dance performance in Chicago. I am always so intrigued by the ballet ads I see downtown. And I have yet to meet a broadway show I didn't love. Time to get classy.

24. Paint a piece of furniture. True confession: I have two cans of aqua spray paint I'm not sure what to do with, so I figured I may as well make it a goal. That's just me being #Dutch and #cheap

25. Find a mission where I can volunteer or support or visit. Once again, see #20.

26. See live jazz music. This one is partly for Brian and partly for me. Before getting married, I really had no tolerance for jazz music. I get impatient and like my songs to run their full course within 2 minutes and 35 seconds. Brian, on the other hand, can throw in a little Wayne Shorter and be completely happy with a song over 7 minutes long. It's been growing on me and I'd love to experience some live jazz music together. Plus, we Chicagoans live in a cultural center of the genre! Excited to make this into a date night.

So there it is. 26 little things that help me make this life I lead my own. Got any ideas to add?

My Kids

Brian and I don't have kids. We don't plan to for a while at least. That conversation is a funny one to have when you're not ready to have kids yet (Well, when are you ever truly ready? Do you ever become ready? YOU GUYS I FEEL LIKE I WILL NEVER BE READY.). I'm all like "Uh, no kids on the horizon, right?" And Brian's all like, "Uh, yep. Let me know if and when you change your mind and I'll do the same." And I'm all like, "Great. Same page! Wanna go out to eat without having to book a babysitter?" **High five!!**

I went through a phase earlier this school year where I was so tired, so worn down, that I proclaimed to Brian every day on my return home from school that HOW COULD WE EVER HAVE KIDS? I HAVE 23 KIDS ALL DAY LONG AND I NEED A BREAK. WE ARE NEVER HAVING KIDS. He, being equally tired, was all good with my proclamation. We aren't so militantly against children now (hey the doldrums of January really get to a teacher's brain) but we really are toast by the end of the work day. How do you people do it? How do you manage the feelings, spiritual growth, academic goals, and social development of two dozen small humans all day and then have an ounce of patience left in you by the time you get home? How?

As long as my brain is wandering in this direction, what if we never did have kids? My mind freaks out: would my parents or Brian's parents be devastated? Would people judge me? Ack! All the silly insecurities that come with adulthood decisions seem to pile up if you let them. I've had random pangs of that guilt or the potential of letting people down and decided to ignore them. A perk of adulthood is that you get to make those decisions based on what works best for you, not on the obligations projected upon you by society. So I suppose that's the game plan for Brian and me at the moment. We don't have a timeline, or really even a set plan. We just know that the next best thing for us is to not have kids right now.

I was thinking of that next best thing, and having a time without having kids yet, because it allows me the energy, creativity, and opportunity to call my students "my kids." I love my kids. My kids are all different shades of skin, all different types of brains, and from all different types of families and churches. My kids love each other, mess up together, love to learn, and crack me up on the daily. If Brian and I one day decide to have kids, I hope they turn out to be true individuals, just like my kids now. I hope they like singing, dancing, clapping, and selfies just as much as my kids. I hope they love reading, building, and writing letters just like my kids. I hope they love Jesus, live kindly, and show a care and concern that says when you are hurting I am hurting too, just like my kids.

Sometimes I come home from school exhausted from helping to raise other people's children, but then I remember that they're partly mine too. As a teacher, you're constantly helping little people navigate the social transition between their home environment and a school environment and how to do that. It can be hard to help children translate what it means to share, encourage, compete, and grow together when they all come from different places themselves.

But you know what? The differences? And the rich diversity that happens when all 24 of us step into our classroom each day? That's what I love about my kids. I'm so glad God gave them to me.

 

Ankle Rankle

I found out through extensive online research that "rankle" is an archaic term from Middle English that is used to describe when something is painful in a nagging way. How can you not just love the Oxford English Dictionary?! It is perfect for this blog post! On to the topic of the day:

Check out this beast.

Now THAT is a cankle. 

As per usual, I was my graceful self and disaster ensued. I fell down sideways on my foot after I went up for a block during a game of pickup volleyball with some coworkers last night and this is the result. It is a really silly feeling to miss work because of a sprained ankle, but driving nearly an hour with my left foot down a 4-lane highway isn't the best choice, and so I'm thankful for a principal who gently suggested that we find a sub and that I forego the journey.

So today involved explaining to strangers over and over why I'm hopping to my car (No, creepy dude, I don't want your help, but I appreciate the gesture) or into my apartment on one foot until my crutches arrive (they are coming tomorrow thanks to my superhero friend Mel). Plus I had my purse around my shoulder, so that's bouncing around up and down as I hop, and as Karley commented while I explained this whole ordeal to her over the phone: There is just no graceful way to hop on one foot. Truer words have never been spoken. Once I hopped to my car I had the diabolical challenge of pushing the gas pedal. My left-foot driving was nothing short of ridiculous, as I nervously cruised around 10 miles per hour under the speed limit. I watched the actual shock of other drivers who passed me, expecting to see an elderly woman and found me instead.

When I finally reached the (second floor - woof) doctor's office I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. A very long tunnel in the shape of a hallway. Exhausted from all the one foot hopping, I slowly hobbled my way down the hall a few steps at a time, pausing to get my balance every few steps. In the midst of one of these pauses a man and a woman walked down the hall in the opposite direction, noticing my struggle. I said, "Hi!" The guy said, "Woah! Your ankle is huge!" I said, "Yeah, I am definitely aware of that, so thanks!" and we continued on our separate ways. I finally got to the front desk, they immediately sat me down in a wheel chair, and pushed me to the exam room. It made me feel like a total hypochondriac to be pushed in a wheelchair as a fully functional 25-year-old, but I was so stinking thankful for a break from all the hopping. The doctor finally saw me, was a super cool guy, and deemed it a severe sprain, in need of crutches for about a week and a month of physical therapy. My mind was all INSURANCE! HMO! WHAT'S PHYSICAL THERAPY?! But I kept a cool appearance on the exterior.

I thanked him for the air cast, hobbled my way back home, and left-foot-drove through Chik-Fil-A for lunch, adding a milkshake onto my order. Because you know about how dairy is a part of the food pyramid and everything.

In one big spree of feeling sorry for myself, I spent as much time on the social medias as I wanted (consider yourselves STALKED), watched a lot of Kimmy Schmidt on The Netflix, and didn't consider the idea of showering until 3:15 in the afternoon. I'm getting to that step now. All in all, my life isn't bad if the worst thing that's happened in weeks is a day to watch funny TV shows, drink milkshakes, and text nasty pictures of my pregnant ankle to my friends and family.

Happy weekend, friends!

Spiritual Amnesia

I've known many people who suffer from amnesia, dementia, Alzheimer's, or something of the sort throughout my life. The affliction of forgetfulness in the most cruel and confusing ways. It's affected my family and friends; how terrible for them, we all say, that this has happened. But I've come to believe over the past couple of years that I suffer from it too, in my own way. I have Spiritual Amnesia of the worst kind.

Let me begin by telling you some things I know to be true, deep down to the insides of my bones: God takes care of me. God helps me through the challenges of my life. God has never and will never let me down. These are the facts.

God proves these facts to me time and time again. He has put friends, people, circumstances, opportunities, blessings, and too-good-to-be-true-coincidences directly in my path time and time and time again.

 I was feeling lost and directionless during my senior year of college, wanting to do meaningful work but not knowing where to start. He put Teach for America on my radar and I sailed through the three-month application and interview process, disbelieving that I kept getting promoted to the next round time after time.

I was feeling lonely and weird when I lived in a new city in a new apartment. He put friends, roommates, an amazing church, and family right in my way to surround me with intelligent, talented, kind people. 

I was feeling sick of the dating game and so over the ups and downs of heartbreak after heartbreak. He put Brian Edward Whartnaby in my life, completely out of the blue, for the last first date of my life.

I felt defeated and burned out from teaching at a charter school in CPS. He put connections and last-minute Skype interviews right in my path to bring me to a fantastic community and the amazing group of 24 kids that are in my class at Calvin Christian School. 

All of this has happened to me in the last few years! And that's only the big stuff! What about the little stuff?

What about finding my thoughtful, wise, and caring mentor at church? What about generous donors who funded a technology project I started for my classroom? What about the joy I find in cooking for the first time in my life? What about the new brothers and parents and relatives I gained when I joined Brian's family, and the love and support I feel from them? What about awesome trips I've gotten to take? What about the love and friendship of friends that continues to grow through the different stages of life? What about the encouraging phone calls from my dad that come at just the right time? What about the proud sight of a second grade Reader's Theater performance? What about my newfound ability to wake up at 5:00 a.m. on a consistent basis? What about finally having a school day that goes exactly as you planned it? What about the simple joy of seeing Brian working at the kitchen table when I come home from work each day? What about a sunny day with blue skies making for a crisp and perfect October day? 

What about all those things? They didn't just happen. They weren't coincidence. They were carefully orchestrated, put in my path to prove to me, yet again, that I am not alone or without help.

And yet, in spite of all of those things, I forget. I forget God.

I get bogged down in my work at school. At the fact that I am on my third year in a row of teaching a new grade-level, a new curriculum, and a new school. At the fact that I'm tired and weary down to my toes at the end of every day. At the fact that I feel guilty for being a walking zombie when I'm supposed to be a supportive, attentive spouse. At the piles of ignored laundry and dishes. At the fact that I haven't had energy to go on a run since the school year started. I get bogged down in it all. Even in my silly first world problems and superficial insecurities, I get bogged deeply down in the midst of it all and I forget. I forget all of those things that happened and more. I look up and ask God: Why don't you ever help me? Why don't you look out for me? Why am I always fending for myself? Why am I alone in this? I forget that God has always helped me; God has always come through.

And then it hits me. I have a lucid moment of awakened understanding in the middle of my complaining, exhaustion, and piles of papers: I am with you. I love you. I always take care of you. Don't you remember, Anna? Have you already forgotten?

This weekend I was with my mom's side of the family for a wonderful and rambunctious reunion. One of the best things about this side of the family is the life and memory of my cousin Nikki. She passed away 5 years ago from brain cancer, but was a big influence on all of our lives in lots of different ways. Her motto, which I was reminded of this weekend, was this: Trust in God. He will help you. Our family loves those words and remember them when we think of her.

Those words are simple to say, but hard to live. Nikki was someone who didn't forget things, especially not any one of her cousin's birthdays or what they got for Christmas last year. She had her own struggles to face, but she definitely didn't have the forgetful problem I have. Her words are hope for sufferers of Spiritual Amnesia like myself. Trust in God, Anna. He will help you!

He always has. He always will.

And don't you forget it. 

Weekend Relief

My weekend was pretty full, although technically I had no obligations Friday and Saturday night. I love documenting weekends. Teachers, you'll feel me here: documenting weekends helps you remember that they exist, that they really happen, and that you do in fact get a break from the weekly never-ending-stream of work that will never be done. During the week at school I am constantly finishing work and leaving school, not when everything I would like to finish is completed, but when I think I've done enough to survive the next day.  True confessions from second grade.

This weekend I hung out with coworkers on Friday, went to a baby shower, hung out at the mall and went to pizza with Brian, went to church this morning, and left on an apple picking excursion with Reese and Danny this afternoon. With events like that packing up most of the weekend, it makes it less depressing to say that I spent 5 hours on Saturday night planning and prepping for the coming week of school. I'm starting to, slowly, picture my life in a sustainable way, in a way that I can not only tread water, but stay afloat in a regular rhythm of the week. I'm definitely not there yet, as I already am thinking it's past my bedtime at 9:45, but I'm starting to see how it could, maybe, someday, work as a lifestyle that I can maintain without driving myself and Brian (what a good sport) crazy. Until then, I'll still be loving my weekend relief.