Laments

I've always loved singing. Mom tells me that I used to sing about what I could see from the backseat of the car. My lyrics talked about the road that was by the ditch that was by the fence that was by the corn. (Our landscape is stunning in Iowa!)

Most of the singing I've done since I graduated from high school has been in a church context. Over the years I've reached the conclusion that we tend to get our theology more from the songs we sing than from the sermons we hear. As a result, the two most important questions to ask when determining what to include in a church's repertoire are: 1) Are the lyrics theologically sound? and 2) Can this be sung no matter how hard or good life may be? After that comes other considerations such as singability and musical tastes. I'm a part of Redeemer Church in Cedar Falls. We sing theologically robust songs with lots of words and almost every week we sing at least one song that can be called a lament. We always end on a joyful note as we revel in the gospel that is good news in every circumstance.

Currently my church is experiencing great sorrow because Micah, the 8 year old son of one of our families, died as a result of an accident on Tuesday. Wednesday evening much of the church gathered to pray and sing together in our grief. Others from the community also joined us. The mood was somber as I walked into a very quiet space. No music was playing. Micah's picture was on the screen. Children sat quietly. The only talking was done in whispers. The only sound that could be heard more than a few feet away came from the little ones who can't yet talk. Shortly after Micah's parents came in and sat flanked by close friends the elders began our time together. We prayed and read scriptures that speak of our hope in Jesus, death losing it's sting, the resurrection, and God being the God of comfort and the one who wipes the tears from our eyes.

Dirk then took his guitar and after a long pause to gather himself, he explained that at Redeemer we see singing as a primary way we fight for joy when we are together. God commands us to joyfully obey but we can't make ourselves be joyful. There is no switch we can flip. We must have God's help if we are to sing, and sing loudly.  As we sang, Dirk needed to pause at times between verses and songs so he could continue to lead us. Some could not sing because they were overcome with emotion but their lifted hands showed that they were in agreement with the words being sung around them. Micah's parents were too tired to stand but they sang through their tears.

In my first draft of this post, I quoted significant portions of the songs we sang. But as I've reflected on it more, those words don't mean as much when read on a page. The music and singing them with others adds to their power. Some of the snippets that have come back to my mind include:

Lord, we believe. But help our unbelief.

Lord, we believe. But help our hearts to sing,

That you are good, all of the time

All of the time you are good.

O God, you never leave my side

Your love stands firm through all my life...

Height nor depth nor anything else can pull us apart.

We are joined as one by your blood.

Hope will rise as we become more than conquerors 

Through the one who loved the world. 

So when I'm drowning out at sea
and all your breakers and your waves crash down on me,
I recall your safety scheme.
You're the one who made the waves
And your Son went out to suffer in my place
And to show me that I'm safe.

Though tonight I'm crying out,
"Let this cup pass from me now,"
You're still all that I need.
You're enough for me. 

I was deeply moved as we sang, Lord I need you, Oh, I need you. Every hour I need you... It was sung at the top of our voices in beautiful harmony. The death of a fun-loving boy reminded us that we are weak and helpless creatures who control nothing and are utterly dependent on our creator for everything. Maybe that is why Solomon says it is better to be in a house of mourning than a house of feasting. Mourning resets our perspective and draws us back to dependence on God. 

Dirk wanted to end with a song that would get Micah dancing so we proclaimed: 

All our sickness, all our sorrows

Jesus carried up the hill.

He has walked this path before us,

He is walking with us still.

Turning tragedy to triumph,

turning agony to praise.

There is blessing in the battle,

so take heart and stand amazed.

Rejoice!

When you cry to him he hears your voice.

He will wipe away your tears. Rejoice!

In the midst of suffering He will help you sing.

Rejoice!

When I was growing up, a quote from Martin Luther hung in our living room near the piano. 

Next to the Word of God, 

the noble art of music is the greatest treasure in the world. 

We experienced that reality on Wednesday evening. The truth we sang had been read and prayed but it touched a deeper cord when it was combined with music which allowed us to proclaim it loudly together. I'm sure that I'm not the only one who has been singing some of those words throughout the day. No wonder Paul tells us to sing to each other (Eph 5:19).

The mood was still somber when we finished. Many tears were shed and hugs were given but there was also a sense that the long road of healing and comfort had begun.  I left with a sense of gratitude for those who have written laments and church leaders who make sure we sing one almost every week. As a result, when we desperately needed them, we knew them and, with God's help, were able to sing them loudly with all of our hearts. 

Kindergarten

Every week I get to spend some time with kindergartners in their classroom. Five and six year olds are full of life and energy and love to tell stories -- that have nothing to do with the current topic. One of the reasons it is so fun to work with them is because progress is readily seen. You can tell a lot about how ready a child is to start writing by how he colors and draws. I'll give you an example of one boy. At the beginning of the year he held a crayon or pencil with his fist and scribbled away. When asked what he had drawn he had an explanation. "That's me and Mom and Dad at the zoo and that's the lion!" He had difficulty tracing a straight line or drawing a circle and without being able to do those basic shapes, it is hard to write letters. So at the beginning we used lots of hand-over-hand as we worked on the letters of his name. Using small bits of chalk or broken crayons got him to hold his pencil correctly. Writing on a chalk board or in boxes gave him some boundaries and extra feedback and in time he was consistently writing his first name.

Two weeks ago I watched him as he drew a picture and knew improvement was being made when the first thing on the paper was a circle and a couple of lines in an attempt to draw a stick figure. By the time he had finished it was covered with scribbles but I had seen signs of progress. This week when he opened his writing folder I didn't have to ask him what he had drawn. It was clearly a snowman: three circles, one on top of the other with a hat on top. There were only a few scribbles on the page. He told me he wanted to draw something about the movie Zootopia and began with a small circle and two lines on top, and a couple of lines going down. It wasn't a recognizable rabbit and his fox was about the same but he was using controlled and small movements. His building had no sharp corners but he was trying to make a rectangle. I am rejoicing to see this boy increase his skills.

The next day I visited a classroom which was rather chaotic at times at the beginning of the year. There is a runner in that classroom so there is a gate at each door and the kids needed multiple reminders to go from one center to another or back to their desk and actually do what they were supposed to be doing. This week when I walked in, everyone was where they were supposed to be and the noise level was appropriate for the activity. When it was time to move from one center to another it was done with minimal reminders. The kids on the computers moved to the library. Those at the library went to the table and began to draw... It was amazing compared to what it was like a month ago. It's great for everyone involved when there are more good days than bad.

Writer's Workshop

Because of my role as a school occupational therapist I am often in classrooms during writing time which is usually called writer's workshop. Kindergarteners draw pictures and label them. First graders write a few sentences about a "small moment." Third graders add describing words and more details to their sentences while drawing a "quick sketch". Today's story is too long to qualify as a "small moment" and I have no sketch. However, I will try and edit before I publish.

Last Monday morning I was sitting with a co-worker doing some computer work and I heard some buzzing that didn't go away. My co-worker suggested it sounded like someone outside with a weed-whacker. That seemed plausible except this went on and on and on. Eventually I realized the noise was coming from my bag. My phone, that had taken a quick dip in some water that morning, was continually vibrating. The only way to stop it was to take out the battery.

After work I went to a phone repair shop where I learned that 1) my phone was not worth the $65 to take it apart and dry it out, and 2) once a phone gets wet it is only a matter of time before it dies. I have been frustrated for some time by the lack of internal memory on my phone so decided this was a good excuse to upgrade. My next stop was Best Buy where two saleswomen helped me find the best option that fit my budget and typical call, text, and data use. I also decided to get a new number rather than waiting for the previous number to be released by my previous provider. That decision is why this story doesn't qualify as a "small moment."

The next morning I notified co-workers that I could be reached at a new number. In the afternoon I sent a text to a friend from church inviting her to come over for supper. A few minutes later she called, "I tried to text you but I get a response from someone who doesn't know who I am. Are you OK?" It seemed strange but when I got home from work I started notified about half of my contacts of my new number. Some texts came back to me but I later learned that for some strange reason most were ending up on someone else's phone. However, all of the calls appeared to be coming only to my phone.

The next morning I engaged in the futile attempt of reaching an actual human being at my provider's customer service. I couldn't seem to push the right number. (I know; push zero for as many times as it takes.)  At work I asked a co-worker if she had responded to my text. She hadn't at the time but did then and got a response from someone else, "Do I know you?" I then used my co-worker's phone to dialogue with the poor person who was getting texts for Alice when she wasn't Alice. Long story short, this person had an old iPhone she only used to facetime with her friends when connected to WiFi. The number I had been given was tied to her apple account so any time she was online, the texts to her old number went to her phone rather than to mine. A very frustrating situation for us both! I thanked her for clearing up the mystery and assured her I would take care of it as soon as I was off work.

Back to Best Buy where a different salesman figured out I could go online and change my number. That looked and sounded far easier than trying to call customer service and that turned out to be the case.  All that was left to do was to send out numerous texts once again:

This is Alice sending you my 2nd new number in as many days. 

Hope this one isn't connected with someone's Apple account. 

All the responses arrived on my phone. At least I think they did.

Catching up on life

Last week a friend posted on Facebook that she would be in Cedar Rapids for a week and would love to get together with anyone in the area. She wasn't expecting a reply from me but we were both glad that it worked out to spend Sunday afternoon together. We first met at a conference for single missionaries while she was living in Spain and I in France. The last time we saw each other, I was moving to Minneapolis. Five years later, she is now in Germany and I'm in Cedar Falls. Between trips to a Chinese buffet we took turns telling the stories of the past five years. In some ways our lives have had similar twists and turns. God led us to different places and opened up doors that we didn't expect or necessarily want. Last November we both ended up in the hospital: I with a planned surgery to remove my thyroid and she with a bizarre infection in the lining of her lung that the doctor's still can't explain. I was also eager to hear some firsthand stories about the huge influx of refugees in Germany. She gave an encouraging report of how the churches in her area are helping to meet needs and encourage integration in the midst of a government system that is somewhat overwhelmed. The news reports don't talk about the open doors for the gospel but they are there and many of these refugees are open.

After a couple of hours of stories we were the only ones left in the restaurant and began wondering if they were waiting for us to leave so they could move on to other things. As we paid the man commented, "You look like friends who haven't seen each other for a long time." That would pretty much sum it up.

Cultural Diversity

At the end of my 2nd interview for my current position, I was asked what I thought about working in a school district where over 30 languages were spoken. I could hardly wait for them to finish asking the question because I was quite excited at the prospect of living in a more culturally diverse setting. I noticed small things as soon as I arrived: the Indian and Thai restaurants, the Bosnian bakery, the varying shades of black, brown and white skin tones at the grocery store. Once I started work I began to interact with students and adults with varying life experiences and I throughly enjoy it.

Last week one of my co-workers received referrals for two children in a French speaking family. It was great fun to go with an early child educator into their home and translate. I was slightly disappointed when it turned out the kids were doing great and just need to get into preschool. That meant I wouldn't get to go back. The whole experience brought back to mind the visits in the homes of my friends in France.

Tuesday evening I met "Fatima" a student from the Middle East who is here studying English at UNI. The program she is in seeks to match up students with local families. On Saturday I went with her, a cousin and two other international students to the National Cattle Congress in Waterloo. It it turned out to be like a fair that is heavy on the livestock and light on all other types of displays. As we entered the first barn, I looked around and Fatima was nowhere to be seen. It turns out she is quite afraid of animals. It was easier for her to walk into the barns where the animals were in pens than the ones where the back of the stalls were open. With some encouragement she was happy to look from a distance. The other two students from Malaysia were eager to pet the llamas and rabbits. When we walked by the goats, Fatima told me of a vivid memory of buying a goat with her father and crying with great fear as only a 5 year old can when he put it in the back of the car to take home. It all made me smile, and she was a good sport. As we left I told her she now had something to write home about. She was puzzled but after I explained, she said she had already sent pictures on snapchat. She told me she had a great time, and I'll take her word for it, though I can't help but wonder if she was telling me that just to make me feel good. I would love to hear what she told her brother and cousin who are also here. Next time we'll do something that doesn't involve animals.

Ready or not, here we go

Though I officially started work on Aug 8, this past week was the first time I had a full 5 day work week. Monday and Wednesday I had time to get a handle on the students on my list -- or at least try to. Tuesday was another day of training for working with those in the birth to 3 age range. I won't be starting that right away, but still needed the training. And Thursday school started. I didn't really know what I was doing (and still don't) but I had been to observe and get to know the teachers and the students. It's been a long time since I've spent much time in an elementary school and here's some of the things I observed.

• Kids who were yawning and saying they were hungry at 10. They are still adjusting to the school schedule.
• Teachers who appeared to spend most of the first two days setting the tone for the year and who was in charge in the classroom. It takes a bit, but the students seemed to be slowly catching on from kindergarten to 5th grade.
• A few kids wandering the halls unsure of where the bathroom was or how to get back to their room. (I felt for them because I was in the same boat and had to ask for assistance a few times.)
• A kindergartener who sat with tears in her eyes throughout the whole time I was in her room.
• A few boys doing stellar work to include the one quiet girl in their group project.
• Teachers who knew what their daily schedule was for next week and others who knew what the plan was for today and a general idea of what is to come.
• Secretaries know everything. Really they do. They gave me teachers for everyone on my roster, directions, and opened the locked office for me. To top it off they all appeared calm in the midst of the controlled chaos.
• In a crowded classroom, an experienced teacher put the well-behaved kids in the middle and the ones with the most wiggles around the edge. 
• Teachers who addressed issues quietly and without the rest of the class being aware that there even had been an "issue." 
• By the end of day 2 I had a better idea of what questions to ask so I can nail down a schedule.

I may not know what I'm doing but I've been told that is OK and even to be expected. I'm grateful for my mentor and other fellow OTs that I see back at the office who answer my questions and assure me it will get better, even if it does take a few years.

A New Job!

I have started a new job. After working for 20 months as an OT with the geriatric population in a nursing home setting, I'm now working with AEA267 as an OT in the Waterloo, IA school district. That is a big switch in many ways. Instead of working with those who are 90 I'll be working with 9 year olds. I've gone from a small company to a state agency with around 600 employees. There is much to tell but since I've just had a few days of orientation, I'll stick to the story of how this came to be.

It started last winter with our declining and varying caseload. I was hired to work 40 hours a week but the actual hours worked depended upon the number of people who needed my services. Some days I worked 4 hours and the next I worked 10 with little advance notice. That pushed me to start looking for something else. There are few OT jobs in northwest Iowa and I didn't want to move to work with a similar company as I didn't think I would find a better one to work with. And if I was to move farther away, I wanted to work in schools so I would have vacations and in general be more available to spend time with my parents. I filled out numerous online applications and had an initial phone interview for a position in Arizona. That seemed too far away so I didn't follow through on that one. After several months of waiting, I had two more interviews for positions closer to home.

In the meantime my landlord would not let me have a month-to-month lease and I needed to give my notice before I knew if I would be offered a position. I prayed that I would know where I was going by the time I moved out. I received a call offering me the position on Friday, April 30 about 30 minutes before I left work to complete the final preparations before the moving crew showed up to load the trailer. I was very glad to know that I had a destination. My second thought was, "I'm going to France next summer!"

I continued working until the beginning of July when I moved back to my parents basement. Among other things I took an online refresher course in pediatrics where I learned the importance of tummy time and why crawling is so important for a child's development. I also went on vacation with Mom and my 13 year old niece, Elizabeth. I'll save those stories for another post. We picked Dad up in Indianapolis on July 30 after his two week bike trip from Lincoln, NE and headed home stopping through Cedar Falls to show them my new apartment. I moved in on Aug 3 and thanks to Uncle Steve and Mom and Dad's help, I felt pretty settled by the weekend even though I can't always remember where I put things.