Easily Excitable

I heard once that, when it’s raining really hard, you need to remember that the road doesn’t change. 

It’s a weird analogy for this week, for this continuum of bad news that’s gone on throughout this year. Or really, maybe the last five years. 

It’s a weird analogy, but from my perspective, a fitting one. 

I don’t have to labor you with the facts of our country right now. 

I might say that things seem chaotic. That, however, seems like an understatement. 

Every time I open my phone, I swear, the only thing I can think is, “What in the world is going on?” Or, even better: “Have we lost our minds?” 

We’re all driving through a torrent of tragedy, rage, lament, and division. 

I’m not here to add to that cacophany: I don’t have the wisdom or words to say anything you haven’t heard over the past week.

All I want to do is explain how I’m trying to stay grounded right now.

There’s a lot of talk about empathy right now: 

There’s discussion on who deserves it, who doesn’t, and who is selective in their empathy. 

There’s even a discussion on what empathy actually is. 

Bearing this week’s events in mind, here’s why I think things felt heavier, maybe, than other weeks where we’ve seen horrific things happen.

It’s a sad culture when we’ve gotten desensitized to violence, specifically mass shootings. 

Even sadder is the fact that, oftentimes, those mass shootings happen in schools. And we’re desensitized to those as well, if not even more so. 

Really, the first school shooting I keyed in on was Parkland, mainly because it happened in my first year of teaching.  

All of a sudden, I- a very stupid 23 year old- was in charge. 

I had lives under my care- kids in my classroom I was responsible for protecting, should such a situation arise. 

So, I think that, for one, there seems to be a callusedness and desensitivity to school shootings because they, unfortunately, are common. 

What a sad reality. 

I also want to say that the weight of this week increased as there were two gruesome videos released. The violence of watching people stabbed and shot to death isn’t something many of us have seen. 

And yet, Iryna Zarutska and Charlie Kirk’s murders have been viewed millions of times. 

That made it a lot more real, I think, than simply hearing about those murders- that someone had been stabbed, that someone had been shot. 

I felt a similar amount of stomach-twisting sickness when I watched George Floyd cry out for his mother a few years ago. 

I watched that video in college. I will never forget it. 

I like to think that this response means we’re still human: still not made to watch this kind of stuff and walk away unmoved. 

So, that being said, do I find myself thrown for a loop right now? 

Do I still think it’s wild that we watched two murders on repeat this past week? 

Do I stand aghast at the terror happening in the Middle East? 

Do I get concerned with political leaders being targeted? 

Do I get worried when churches are shot up? 

Do I find it astounding that I constantly am on the lookout for danger in seemingly casual and normal places? 

Do I think it’s absolutely insane when, as a woman, I can’t feel 100% safe running? 

Do I find it terrifying that children are murdered in schools? 

Do I lose sleep over that, both as a teacher, and as one who has a nephew-brother-son in the public school system? 

Do I wonder that we are becoming more and more desensitized to this? 

Yes, and absolutely, to each of those.

But, that said, I want to revisit the analogy I opened with: 

Driving on a rainy road. 

The weather is variable. The car is variable. The conditions on the road, even, can be variable. 

But the road itself? 

The road does not change. 

So you may vary your speed.

You may drive with more caution.

You may turn your hazards on.

You may go 10-and-2 and white-knuckle the steering wheel like never before. 

But you can understand that the road itself is still there: the way hasn’t changed.

Personally, that’s what I’m focusing on right now. 

I can feel a little mixed-up and disoriented, for sure, but the Way marked out for me has not been altered. 

My job, my mission, is still the same: it is to emulate Christ, both in the way He lived, and in His spreading faith and the forgiveness for sins – of the life-altering power of the Gospel. 

The mission doesn’t change, no matter the weather. 

Now, that looks differently to each of us: our focus is the same, but our calling is different. 

My calling- my use of my God-given gifts- is this:

To come to school, each day- to teach and love the kids in front of me. 

I have been called to public school. I have been called to my little sphere of activity and influence. 

I have been called to teach ninth and tenth graders. 

50% of my task is to teach ninth graders how to be human beings, because you will not find a normal group of them in the bunch. 

I’m called to teach about the dangers of pride from “The Scarlet Ibis,” as well as the family dynamics in Sundiata.

I’m called to teach about overcoming obstacles, what it means to have grit, how to speak in front of others, and how to punctuate dialogue (help us, Jesus). 

And I am called to undergird it all with love, compassion, mercy, grace, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and hope. 

That’s hard to do on a normal day. It’s more difficult when everything is heavy and I’m not even really sure about this world these kids will inherit one day.

My calling is this: 

To be the best wife I possibly can be: to show others Christ’s love through my marriage- that this love is unconditional and in all seasons. 

To be the best friend I can be: to check in with my girls, comforting each other in times of need. 

To be the best daughter I can be: to help my parents shoulder the burden of raising another child in their retirement years. 

To be the best aunt I can be: to make sure Zayden doesn’t grow up in a quiet home, but that he gets the full effect of having a sibling. And, of course, to make sure I love on my other nieces and nephews when I see them – being fully present.

It’s This Simple:

I am called to use my gifts God sowed into me to the best of my ability to help others, that the love I might display in my life might make the unseen God visible. 

I am called to exhaust my gifts, my talents, and myself in pursuit of loving my neighbor to the glory of God. 

These callings and the focus of the Good News from which they flow? 

That’s the road that doesn’t change, no matter the weather. 

Keeping your head on a swivel at too fast a pace can be disorienting. 

I think that’s probably something we’re all guilty of this week. I know that’s certainly been my situation. 

In the mornings, I’ve been guilty of checking my phone before I read my Bible. If that’s what you do, no shade is thrown at you. 

Just for me, that’s not a productive order of events. But this week, it’s been hard to look away from social media. 

I think we need to be informed, but there is a level of checking and scrolling that will have you putting all of the weight of the world on your shoulders. 

That burden will crush you.

So, what should we do instead? 

My Gran has discipled me for a large part of my life: she is someone who, to her core, embodies what it means to be a Christian. 

She knows God’s word better than anyone else I know. 

There’s a story she and I have talked about a couple of times. It’s about when Nehemiah goes back to a destroyed Jerusalem to rebuild it. 

Surely, he looked up, saw the hot mess that the city was, and thought that the damage was insurmountable. 

Rather than trying to do everything, though, he assigned each group of people a section in the city. That was what they were to focus on, what they were to rebuild. 

Therefore, the section at hand was the section in mind, and it was there that this specific group’s work took place. 

I think that’s where I’ve landed. 

I will work on my gate, I will better my area. I will not look to the left or right, worrying about how others are working on theirs. 

I will be held responsible for the actions, words, thoughts, opinions, and reactions of only one person, and that’s myself. 

My influence is in my marriage, my family, my community, my classroom, and in my church.

Should I concern myself with doing the highest good in those locales, my work will consume me; I will have more than enough on my plate. 

If I can emulate Christ around those people whose lives mine overlaps, that is enough.

I want to be in the know, but I don’t want that focus to consume my life so that I am ineffective where I can effect the most change. 

Ultimately, I think the worst thing we can be is ineffective.

I’m a hopeless optimist and have been for the majority of my life. 

If I weren’t, I would have to quit teaching. My whole career is built on hope. 

The hope that today will be the day that my students can finally get complements down. 

Or the hope that they’ll remember that a comma goes before the FANBOYS conjunction. 

I, naturally, have hopes that are a little broader, too. 

I hope that, one day, Trey and I will have a loud, chaotic, houseful of kids and grandkids, and we’ll be able to enjoy them together. 

I hope that, one day, I’ll get to dance with Zayden (it’s gotta be to “The Cotton-Eyed Joe”) at his wedding. 

And I hope for America, too: I hope that we can cross the divide- that, somehow, we can figure this whole thing out. 

But, hear me now: I only have one guaranteed hope.

It seems paradoxical, I know. But this hope I have? It’s a concrete promise from a God who’s come through every time before. 

I have hope in the Savior who bought my eternity and paid in blood. 

I have hope that, one day, I will trade this short-lived vessel for an immortal one. 

I have hope that, on that day, all these violent divisions will wither and evaporate under the shared worship and honor given to Christ. 

Some may call my optimism delusional. That’s fine. 

That hope is what will bring me through this life until I meet my Savior face-to-face, and hear, “Well done, good and faithful. I’m so glad you’re home.”

May my life be focused on my portion of the city, the road on which I travel, and the calling which God has assigned me.