What Valentine's Day Used to Be About

I promise, this will not be a post about how it sucks to be single on Valentine's Day.

I actually hadn't given much thought to Valentine's Day this year, probably because I live in a place that is not wallpapered with advertisements for events and celebrations of V-Day. Add to that the fact that I'm no longer surrounded by couples my age, and I almost forgot about it completely.

Do you remember what Valentine's Day used to be all about? When we were kids, it was all about candy, little paper cards with movie and cartoon characters on them, and parties at school. I brought some homemade cupcakes next door to my neighbors and the twins were sifting through all of the candy they got from their preschool V-Day party today. I had forgotten about this aspect of Valentine's. For kids, it's second to Halloween in terms of candy haul. Those twins were in sugar rush mode and loving every minute of it. Lilly asked me if I had gotten any candy at school today. I told her that I don't go to school right now and therefore didn't get any candy. She looked up at me with her big green eyes and said, "Anjerah (Andrea), that is so sad. I am sad for you because you don't have any candy. Do you want my necklace?" For these two, V-Day meant lots of candy and hugs and smooches from the people they love. They have no idea what "single" means and why it can be so crippling at times. I had forgotten about this simplicity of mind in the flurry of mushy Facebook statuses about boyfriends, girlfriends, spouses, and "true love" (whatever that is).

Speaking of Facebook statuses, I saw a lot of statuses about letting Jesus be your Valentine. I had mixed feelings about these. While I understand and appreciate the sentiment, it seems hollow to me. Yes, Jesus is the only person we should ever need to fulfill us, but at the same time, we were created to be relational beings; to know someone else so fully and deeply that they become a part of us. It is a very physical longing that we experience. I'll be the first to admit that it is very, very hard to feel that an invisible and intangible Jesus is filling a hole that a flesh-and-blood human being is supposed to fill. And I think that's okay. Even Jesus experienced painful human loneliness in spite of his divinity. Regardless of what this day was meant to be back in the time of Saint Valentine, we live in a culture now that places value on having someone special to be your valentine. Living counter to that culture can be both rewarding and lonely.

One person in particular has been on my mind today: my third-grade teacher. If you read back a few months, you will remember that her husband died very unexpectedly. For the first time in more than two decades, she is without her valentine. As hard as it can be to be single sometimes, it is, without a doubt, utterly crippling to miss a person you had at your side for so long. She is very close to my heart tonight, as is anyone whose valentine has been ripped away from them, no matter how long ago it happened.

I'll leave you all with a moment of levity: as I was baking those cupcakes this morning, I was listening to the radio. 105.3 HOT-FM was my station of choice, and normally I think they do a pretty good job. However, this morning they were playing a pre-recorded happy message every so often. I think their intentions were good, but hearing "From all of us at 105.3 to you, have a happy VD" made me wonder who was in charge of that little campaign.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.

Identity

When I first transferred to Calvin, I had to do a three-day Transfer Student Orientation the weekend before second semester classes started. From what I can tell, it was similar to the orientation that first-year students do: bonding time with your orientation group, tours, meals with faculty from your program, a service day in the community, sessions on integrating into Calvin's community, etc. Thankfully, we didn't have to do sessions on "adjusting to college life" because all of us had been college students already. 

During one of the sessions, the facilitator had us write down on slips of paper the goals we had for our time at Calvin. I don't remember what I wrote down. Probably something to do with getting a good teaching job since that was my main reason for getting my degree from Calvin. Once everyone had finished writing, the facilitator told us to trade slips with the people around us until he told us to stop. I ended up with the slip of paper  that you can see below. 

I thought it was an interesting slip for me to end up with, given that I was pretty secure in my plans for Calvin and graduation and career. I'm not sure what made me tack it to my bulletin board and keep it. Orientation was exactly three years ago, after all. However, now that I am on this side of graduation, this slip of paper perfectly sums up my life.

I know in my head what I want to do: go to Western, get a Master's Degree in School Counseling, and get a job in a school as a counselor. In my head, that is my plan. Even before starting at Western, though, I have to be accepted to their program. As far as I know, and with what others have told me, this program is not one of those highly competitive programs where hundreds apply and twenty get in. Someone who graduated from this program told me that so long as I have good grades and solid recommendations, there should be no reason to reject my application. My head knows this and believes this, but each day that passes without a letter from Western causes my heart to twist a little bit tighter.

If/when I am accepted, I won't even start classes until May. In the meantime, I don't have any major career plans. Substitute teaching, even long-term subbing, scares me. I absolutely do not like the idea of being in a different school with hundreds of different students every day. A good friend of mine is in a similar situation to mine and is subbing until her long-term sub position starts in March. She has exactly the personality that works for subbing - exuberant, friendly, extroverted, and go-with-the-flow. I have learned that I am much more comfortable with one-on-one or small groups situations. I can do one-on-thirty if I have to, like in a regular classroom, but I am so much better with individuals.

Keeping that in mind, I picked up a job as an aide for a 20-year-old young man with autism. I come to his house where he lives with his family and I spend the day helping him live his life. He is non-verbal and cognitively about 4 or 5 years old. He's capable of entertaining himself and seems to enjoy being alone from time to time, which means I don't have to hover over him. Because of his autism, though, he needs help with daily tasks like using the bathroom, making coffee, and operating his videos. It is unlike any job I have ever had. I've only worked one day with him so far, and even though it was a bit overwhelming, I felt like I did good that day. It's only a part-time job, since he goes to school during the week, which still leaves me with the dilemma of what to do during the day.

Between my job as an aide and all of my tutoring students, I average about 25 hours per week of working. I don't have much to do during the day. It's a weird situation because I will be working full-time (or more) once summer starts and that will continue once the new school year starts up. Finding a very temporary job for the next three months is proving difficult. I would like to be working more, if only to have something to do. Having graduated from a widely-known and respected institution like Calvin carries the tacit expectation that you are on your way to great things with your career and your life. Compared with lots of my fellow graduates, I am not fulfilling that tacit expectation (yet).

This feeling of un-fulfillment  began to eat away at me this past week as I spent my mornings and early afternoons at home watching TV and obsessively checking the mailbox. It's hard to find your value in a career when you haven't started one yet. Calvin places so much emphasis on "redeeming the world" - that is, changing it for the better with what you do. Is it possible to redeem the world by watching four episodes of Grey's Anatomy in a row? I feel better about myself when I'm tutoring or working with the young man with autism, but those jobs fill only a small percentage of my days right now.

I went out with my Substitute Teacher Extraordinaire friend on Friday night to catch up and swap post-graduation stories. Even though she is working almost every day, my friend admitted that she felt the same uneasiness that I feel. Even though we teacher graduates regard subbing as a professional's work, the State of Michigan doesn't. In some states, you need only 90 credit hours of college in order to sub. Annie was telling me that she knew how I felt; that working a day-to-day low-paying job was not what she expected to be doing after graduating. She brought me to a great conclusion though. I should not expect to find all of my self-worth in my work. At times like this, it would only make me feel bad. It was so refreshing to sit with her and have her remind me that I am not my work. Work is a part of me, but it does not define me. There are more important identities to hold to: child of God, daughter, sister, friend, mentor, confidante...as Annie put it, those are the identities to cling to.

So along with "different path," I add "child of God" to my list of mantras. Thank you, Annie, for reminding me of this. You da best. To the rest of you, thank you for reading.

Caught In Between

I am caught in between many different worlds right now.

I have just three days left at Calvin, which feels weird. There are very few people that finish their Calvin career at the end of interim. Instead of going out with a bang - student teaching, teacher commissioning ceremony, graduation, etc. - I am going out with a whisper, disappearing quietly while everyone else enjoys interim break and gears up for spring semester.

I am in an interim class that is traditionally taken by freshmen. There are 40 freshmen in my class. While they are exploring themselves and their identities as college students and determining their paths, I am crossing off an item on a checklist. I can't get my teaching certificate until my grades for this class are in. Most of the rest of my classmates are gaining momentum; I am coasting to a stop.

I am waiting for a letter from Western Michigan University telling me that I have been accepted to the graduate program that I have been dreaming about for the last six months. I have literally had nightmares that I come home to a letter stating that my application has been rejected. WMU is the only school that I applied to because it's close, it's affordable, and its program is exactly what I want. Applying to this program was the first career decision that felt absolutely 100% right to me, far more than teaching and Spanish ever did. If I don't get in, I really don't know what I'll do. I have literally put all of my eggs in one basket.

As for my romantic life...my therapist tells me that, once I get into the grad school environment, my singleness will not be nearly so glaring as it is here at Calvin. She tells me that once I get away from Calvin, I will realize that being 23 and single is perfectly normal, expected, even desired.  She tells me that I have chosen a different path than many people my age; a path of higher education and career pursuit. It's hard to remember that and be content with it when I can see so many friends together on a path that I want to be on. Different path. Different path. Different....path.....

On a somewhat unrelated note, counseling is great. Not great as in a good time, but soul-great. You should try it.

So as you can see, I am caught in between the worlds of Calvin and Western, between freshmen and graduates, between singleness and marriage, between frustration and contentment...God is a God of works-in-progress.

"So, what have you been up to since you were last here?"

Instead of simply enjoying my Christmas break and allowing myself to just veg out and let everything from my semester's classes fall out of my brain, I got myself a temporary job. Back in September 2008, when I was first taking classes at Grand Rapids CC, my dad suggested that I get a job at the campus bookstore because he knew several of the people that run the place. Over the course of three semesters, I worked there during six different rush periods. My main jobs were preparing and shelving used books and helping customers find their books. I got to do some other odd jobs too, such as fixing a printer (it was really just plugging something in) and delivering textbooks to a satellite campus. When I transferred to Calvin, I said my farewell to the Bookstore, (fairly) sure that it would be last time. Of course, the managers said that I was welcome to come back anytime, and since I need money for grad school, it seemed like the obvious choice for a job over break.

However, before I tell you that story I must tell you this story.
Fast forward to Saturday night: it was not a great night. I was feeling very upset about the fact that so many of my friends were getting engaged and married, I had just finished my last regular semester at Calvin, I realized that I wouldn't be seeing a lot of my friends anymore, friends my age were getting jobs and moving away...basically, I was feeling very lonely. I was sitting there, thinking it really couldn't get any worse, and then BAM! I discovered that my ex-boyfriend had just gotten engaged to his girlfriend. It's not as if I still have feelings for him, but it was mostly the fact that yet another person my age was getting married.

My mind started down its well-worn path. Is something wrong with me that all these other people my age (or younger) are getting married and I'm not even close to that? Am I unlovable? Do I need to change something about myself? And the thought that scared me the most: had God forgotten about me? Was He busy with other people's lives and He'd get back around to me once they were all set? Had I been placed in a holding pattern until God had time for me? I had certainly been feeling that way lately, given that I was a year (or more) older than almost everyone else in all of my classes last semester, I was single, and instead of moving away to take a job offer at graduation, I was moving back in with my parents to work a collection of odd jobs to raise money for more school.

On Monday, I went back to the Bookstore, bright and early. Actually, not bright at all because it was very early. Anyway, everyone was asking me how my time at Calvin had been and what I had been up to since last working at the bookstore. It was then that I realized that I had actually accomplished a lot of monumental things:
- I had graduated from college with a 4-year degree
- I had studied in Spain for five months and become fluent in Spanish
- I had completed 14 weeks of student teaching
- I had written a book manuscript (still working on getting that bad boy published)
It took being around a group of non-Calvin people to realize that my life was actually moving forward (sorry Calvin people, but it's true). At a place like Calvin, it's easy to feel like you're not forging your own path. Everyone there is serious about their academics, almost everyone gets jobs after graduation or goes on to grad school, and a whooooole lot of people get engaged by the end. I had two of the three, but somehow, I felt like I wasn't going anywhere because I wasn't three for three.

After experiencing this great revelation, I've been feeling better about myself and my ability to make something of myself. The employees of the Bookstore are so wonderfully diverse. Their goals are not to graduate and immediately get married, as seems to be the running theme at Calvin. Being among them again brought me back to myself.

Op-Ed: Tragedy in Our Time

It's easy to think, "What if it had been my kids in that school today?" I would be willing to bet that parents across the country, perhaps even across the world, are asking themselves that question. Many friends and acquaintances of mine are parents to elementary school-age children and I know that they are hugging their kids just a little bit tighter before putting them to bed tonight. Even those of us without kids can feel the pain that radiates from Newtown, Connecticut.

Here's a question that I bet none of you are asking: "What if it had been my kid who killed 30 people?" What if it had been your son, your grandson, your brother who gunned down 20 children, his mother, and then finally himself?

For as stunningly common as mass shootings have become, it never gets any easier to digest the news. Everyone feels helpless in the wake of such tragedies and it seems like the only thing to do is rally around the families of the victims and the community. The angry crowds demonize the murderers, clamoring for blood, especially when there are children involved. But before you join that throng, ask yourself this question: "What if it had been my kid?" Would your hate still burn? Would you still love him?

I am not saying that we should condone what Adam Lanza did. He made a series of decisions with devastating consequences. There is no excuse. But ask yourself this: what kind of suffering had Adam endured to this point that brought him to that school armed to the teeth and ready for vengeance? I have to imagine that Adam had been carrying around a lot of torment for a long time; so long that it distorted his entire perception of himself and his world. Was there no one he could trust? Was there no one with whom he felt safe?

It can be easy to blame parents, siblings, bullies, mental illness, medication, loose gun laws, and so many other things that contribute to the creation of the Adam Lanzas. Instead of doing that, though, we need to open our eyes. Adam Lanza the School Shooter was not made overnight. Many months, maybe even years, of going through life unnoticed and unloved brought him to Sandy Hook ES this morning. No one reached out to him when he was at his lowest. And now no one ever will have the opportunity to do so.

But YOU do have the opportunity to reach out to the people in your life who are suffering. You know who they are. If you don't, ask God to reveal to you who they are, He'll be glad to do it. People are crying out for help, each in their own way, and you have more power than you realize to minister to them. Just showing them that you care and that you won't leave can mean the difference between life and death. If you are that hurting person, don't keep it all inside. Reach out. Someone will be there to reach back.

Hug the children in your life tonight. Pray for the parents whose children were killed. And don't forget to pray for the parents whose children have done the unfathomable.

A Bedtime Story for Ella and Maggie

Even though it says Ella and Maggie, this story is for you too. No one is too old for a bedtime story.

[This story is based on a children's book called The Invisible String by Patrice Karst, adapted and personalized for two very special and beautiful little girls who just lost their father.]

Dear Ella and Maggie,
Back when you were born, God connected you to all of your loved ones with invisible strings. At first it was just your parents, grandparents, and other family members. As you grew up, every time you made a new friend, God connected you both with an invisible string. You're connected to your family, your friends, your teachers, and all the people in your life that love you.

These invisible strings are magical. They can stretch as far as you need them to. They can stretch across the house, to where your mom and your sister are, or they can stretch all the way across the world. The invisible strings never wear out and they never break, so they'll connect you to your loved ones forever.

The best thing about these invisible strings is that they can even stretch all the way to Heaven. That means that even though Daddy died and went to Heaven, he's still connected to you through the invisible string. He'll always be hanging onto his end of the string, so make sure you don't let go of your end.

It's going to be really hard for awhile. Some days, you might feel like your heart hurts so much and you don't know how to make it stop. You might feel really happy one minute and then something will remind you of Dad and that will make you really sad. That's okay. That's normal. In fact, it's really good that certain things remind you of Dad and certain memories come into your mind. You know what that is? That's Daddy pulling on his end of the string. Every time something makes you think of Daddy, that's him pulling on the string all the way from Heaven to let you know that he's thinking of you, that he remembers you, and that he loves you.

Whenever that happens, you should pull on your end of the string too. It will travel all the way up to Heaven and Dad will feel the pull on his heart and know that you're thinking of him and remembering him. God knew it would be really hard for you to lose your dad. It will be really hard to not be able to talk to him, to not be able to see him, to not be able to hug him and kiss him, to not be able to spend time with him. God knew how hard that would be, so that's why he connected you two with the invisible string. Even though you can't see him anymore, you'll still be able to feel him tugging on your heart, letting you know that he loves you.

So even though it's going to be hard for awhile, I know you can do this. I know you can make it through. You'll be able to see Daddy again someday, but until that time, I want you to remember this: Daddy will be with you every day, connected to you by the invisible string. I love you girls, all three of you, and I'll keep you on my heart and pray for you as long as you need me to.

A Prayer for My Third-Grade Teacher, Mrs. Sytsema

Have you ever heard/seen/received bad news and felt it cut you to your very core? You see the words and it's as if someone just punched you in the stomach. You feel a hurt so deep that you can't even properly locate it.

I have that right now. I logged onto Facebook this morning and saw that my 3rd grade teacher, Mrs. Sytsema, had posted a link to a carepage for her husband. He was rushed to the hospital last night with a scattered pulmonary embolism. As of the last update, he was in critical condition but had survived the night. I  closed my laptop and left for school, saying a quick prayer for peace and understanding. The Sytsema family was on my mind throughout the day. Paul works at Calvin on the same floor as the Education Department, and I walk past his office every Tuesday and Thursday on the way to class. Today, the door was closed and the lights were off and I just stopped walking as I was passing it. It was as if I had stepped into wet concrete that began to solidify around my ankles. I felt a heaviness in my soul looking at his dark empty office.
When I got home this evening, I immediately got on Facebook and checked Mrs. Sytsema's page for updates.

"Steph, we are all praying for you and the girls."
"We are covering you and your family with prayer and asking Him to provide the strength and comfort you need during this very difficult time."
"My heart aches for you Stephanie, and for your beautiful darling girls."

My heart plummeted. It wasn't real. It couldn't be. I could not believe it. 

He didn't make it. 

How do you come to terms with that? How do you even begin to process that? How does a mom explain to her 10-year-old and 7-year-old daughters that they have to say goodbye to dad now, forever? How do you hold yourself together? How do you hold your daughters together? How do you adjust to an empty bed? How do you get used to being a single mom? How do you begin to rebuild?

Mrs. Sytsema has continued to be a teacher to me, long after I left 3rd grade. I've returned to Grandville Christian to visit her and tell her what I've been doing with my life, what classes I've been taking, what majors and minors I've swapped in and out of my college career, how I've been feeling, what new antidepressants I've been trying...so many things.

About two weeks into my semester of student teaching, I stopped in to see her after school. After all of her 2nd-graders were gone, she sat with me and listened while I cried and choked and sobbed through the story of how my first two weeks were going. That time with her meant so much to me. It drew us closer together, closer than simply teacher and former student. And for that reason, I ache for her. My heart is heavy for her. My very soul is shattered.

And if I'm hurting this bad, how much more crippling is this pain for them?

If you're reading this, please be a prayer warrior for my beloved 3rd grade teacher and her girls. This is one of those times in which words are simply not enough. How do you put words to something you can't even understand? In times like these, I have to just close my eyes, visualize the person I'm praying for, and pour out my heart for them. No words pass through my mind because there are none. But that is where the miracle of intercession happens. Jesus understands our silent tears, silent sobs, silent wordless prayers, and I firmly believe that in those moments, He does His best work.

Mrs. Sytsema, this is my prayer of lament for you; that God will draw you in and plant in you His wisdom and understanding for why He took Paul away from you today. I pray that He will send people to you to hold you tight when you feel like you're falling apart. And most of all, I pray that you will be able to keep your eyes open and fixed on God as you wait for the sun to rise again. I love you.