If you've known me even a little bit over the last couple of years you’re pretty aware that of late, I have been on quite a journey. Not more than anyone else, I reckon, but I guess it depends on who you’re talking to. Everybody's stuff is theirs, and while I have a tendency to shrug off the weight of things ("it's not nearly as bad as so-and-so's," etc), this has been a tangle of knots, frays, and wrinkles that belong in my tapestry- whether I like it or not.
Four years, six months, and 4 days ago, I had that major stroke that I've blogged about before (not getting into that in this entry) which took me out of public special education. Evidently I needed a break. God knows what He's doing.
After I stopped teaching in 2018, I baked for a living for a couple of years with my little in-home gig, Sonflowers Table, which gave me a space to create and to love on others in a way my brain and my body allowed me to; it was silmultaneously stressful and oh-so-rewarding. I still do cakes every once in a while, but mostly I don't have the brainspace or the physical time/ energy for that. Sigh.
Then in the summer of 2020, amid Covid craziness, God planted me firmly into a school family I didn't feel worthy of entering, on a timeline and in a way I couldn't have planned myself or even tried to imagine. After all, I had thought I was done teaching. Seriously. Andrew Ricabal, Brenda Cowfer, and the Lee Christian Falcons staff and community, however, hired me, welcomed me, and embraced me. They trusted me- not only with educating HS Literature students, but with the additional plan to create a much-needed special education program to meet the needs of their growing numbers of students with significant academic and social needs on our campus. They sought my wisdom, they valued my opinion, and for the first time in a career, I felt seen, heard, and genuinely respected. I felt capable.
Every work day- every single one- I went to Lee Christian, and I'm not kidding, here- either singing as Bonham and I pulled onto campus (on more than one occasion, the song wouldn't be over by the time we got to my space, so we danced and prayed and worshipped in the parking lot); praying gratitude for our wee school; or speechless that I was allowed to be there. Don't get me wrong- nothing is perfect in our lives- it was a job, it was teaching, it was exhausting, and it was bonkers from time to time. On many occasions, though, I felt like I had to pinch myself: "I'm getting paid for this?!?!" Being at Lee Christian, to me, was indescribable- it was a bigger than a blessing, greater than a gift, and far more than just a job. I lived my days alongside brothers and sisters in Christ; poured Jesus, poetry, and prose into my high schoolers; and created a news show on YouTube (we have all of 82 followers, I think!) featuring middle and high school students, coming out of their shells, chatting and interviewing each other as they fumbled and laughed their school hours away.
We lifted our hands and offered our hearts during worship and chapel messages on Wednesdays, and we served our community in more ways than I can list. I was privileged to speak life and love into students from preK through 12th grade, and I was honored to share work and heart space with educators who adore Jesus and live for Him and our kids. Some of our time was drenched in tears and unspeakable heartache, other moments were bathed in sunshine and toothy grins; every day, in the drippy eyes and sore smile-cheeks, was highlighted in the bold colors of God Himself. We were tired and fulfiilled, stressed and rewarded; teaching is the best hard thing, and I found a family that I could have the hard conversations with and that I could do the great, difficult things with. I was able to argue well, stand my ground when I needed to, and concede when I had to, as well. I was both strengthened and humbled. It's a school, a church in a way, and a home for staff and students alike. Growth- sometimes painful, stingy, and hard- happens at Lee Christian, and I daresay no one leaves the same as they were when they walked onto its campus. I am not what I was 2 years ago, and I absolutely have the Falcons community to thank for that.
I'm nervous about moving to a secular workplace. I am. I cannot say that every part of me is super pumped about this shift, or that I'm not terrified to go into a place where it seems like the world is on stage and Jesus is waiting in the car. This isn't an "I'll be right back, Abba Father" situation. No, He's gonna have to go with me, hidden inside my coat. He'll be directing me, though, beat-close to my heart, whispering guidance and love-encouragement, knowing I'll be among hundreds who love this world and are doing their darndest to live "their best lives now." Knowing I'll be faced with secular offerings, worldly fun and excitement, and challenges every day to my faith.
If you're paying attention, you'll notice I'm referring to my time at Lee Christian in the past tense. Good eye, dear reader. Also, kudos for noticing verb tense. Grammar geeks of the world, unite!
Throughout my summer prayers, travels, and life-course, though I was not searching, I was given an oppurtunity that quite honestly fell into my lap. We visited BT Bullock several weeks ago, as a potential landing spot for Bonham; they have experience with ABA in their school, and I went to speak to them about their school family- not because of anything Lee Christian hasn't done, but because of expertise that public schools have in that area that some private schools aren't equipped with just yet. I rationalized, argued, talked to myself, talked to friends in both public and private settings, talked to God, and struggled with it: "I'm at Lee Christian to build just that type of program," and "what does it say about what we're doing if I take him out of the place I've been lauding for two years," or " what kind of mother am I," as well as "Lee Christian just isn't ready yet." "Lee Christian doesn't understand these kinds of things yet," and "what is best for B, for crying out loud?!?!"
My brain, my friends, God, and my husband seemed to ease my mind with assurances such as "It's just a conversation for now... visiting doesn't mean we're committing to anything," but when we went, we chatted with Stefanie and saw what Bullock is doing on their campus- in so many ways - we knew it was a beautiful fit for our B.
Then, all-too-shockingly, it became apparent that it was not only a place for Bonham, but for his mama, as well.
I was offered a position (that had, ironically been posted at the time of our visit).
I guess this is the way God-things happen? I don't know, Justin Peters says maybe, maybe not... actually, he said "I don't know, sometimes you just think about Chad," referencing the fact that sometimes things just happen; we're not necessarily hearing the voice of God when we make decisions (see marker 1:03:03 in the video link below, if you're interested. Actually, watch the whole thing. It's incredible).
Anyway, I had to decide if I had just "thought about Chad," or if God was putting something into my path; and I guess ultimately, it wasn't even about that, really, but how I could glorify Him in my decision.
Oh my gosh, how I had been deadset that I would "never go back to public school."
I was yanked away from that mindset and humbled to remember that public and private schools, as well as homeschool, each have significant pros and cons, as a mom, as staff or as a student, and there's not a one-size-fits-all situation. We live, ebb, and flow in seasons and fluctuations, in varying roles and stages, and it's not a matter of changing or compromising our core systems. We're a little like chameleons, adapting to our surroundings in ways that are necessary for survival; we remain who we are, though, in some respects, being human, being ourselves.
In this way, my color has changed.
In August, I'll make the shift from the regal red and black of our wee school's Falcons to the proud and majestic orange of BT Bullock's Bengals.
From wings to stripes.
I'll face the fears I'm swimming in, way over my head, regarding my health and brain.
I'll trade in the safety of small and close, faith, and family for the long ago familiar.
The outside may change a little, I'll adapt to my surroundings. I'll have to wear the skin of the public school teacher again; I'll learn how to use ECATS to write IEPs; I'll walk longer halls and have more colleagues with whom I may not be as close. Among the thousands of differences between my Lee Christian family and my new home at Bullock, though, the biggest change for me will be that I won't be able to talk out loud about Jesus, or take my kiddos off to the side to pray with them.
I will, however, love them as Jesus would have me.
I will quietly pray over their seats, their space, their teachers & administration, and their school home, with as much intention and desire for the Holy Spirit to move in their lives as I do when the words spill loudly.
I will be bold in my faith, secure in my Christ-identity, and fervent in my love for big change in our world, as He would lead me in my new surroundings.
Not to say, of course, that Jesus can't or doesn't exist in the public sector- He does- and I get to be one of the little beams of light He's got positioned "just so," to shine with those other glimmers He's placed there.
We'll be ok, because He's with us, period. And I do believe this is what He has for me right now. I'm pretty good at this special ed thing, and it's going to be a positive thing- for my family, for me, and prayerfully, Lee Christian.
Yesterday I finished Lee Christian's PATHways summer camp, and it was a busy day so I didn't get a chance to get all in my feels about it. Cool thing, too, is that I wasn't horribly sad about leaving the kiddos because the ones that joined us for camp are exactly what I'm going back to, at BT Bullock. Plus I made mama-friendships that will allow for playdates and future shared life-moments.
At Lee Christian, I was with Jesus, and with an incredible school family, Jesus out loud in the classroom and the hallways. A Falcon forever.
At Bullock, I'll be back in my element, doing what I know. Jesus will have to be that still small quiet, living close, gripping my heart, out loud in everything I do. Embracing these new stripes.
Maybe it's just for a season, who knows?
God does, I just have to pay attention.
Selah.
the bengal formerly known as falcon,
Jenny
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