Scheduling God

Here I sit, on a bitterly cold Tuesday, just after noon. On an average Tuesday, I would be at work, just starting my lunch break right now. But today, it is so cold that we were off of school. This means that I am entirely off of my normal routine. Those who know me well know that I don't tend to having my schedule disrupted well. To make up for being off yesterday, we will be having school on Friday and today's "make up day" will be an additional day next month. I don't like Friday school, because it messes up my weekend. I realize that I'm incredibly blessed to teach in a setting where I usually have a guaranteed three day weekend every week. Except that I have a Friday routine. I'm just starting to get back into my Fridays after having two weeks off for Christmas and New Years. When things keep getting cancelled and rearranged, I'm struggling with my reactions. I want desperately to just be able to chill in my routine, knowing that things will just line up well.

As a ministry wife, this is a serious shortcoming. For those who have spent time in ministry, you know why I realize that this has to change. I need to get better at adapting to change. Some weeks, my husband is home every night. Other weeks, he is traveling and I might actually only get to see him for an hour or two that whole week. This means that we must make the most of the few hours that we do have together, even if it means just sitting on the bed talking with him while he empties and reloads his luggage.

Sometimes, God disrupts our routines. The God that we serve isn't one that operates on our time clock, keeping Himself reserved for those fifteen minutes that we have free in our chaotic, overbooked day. While He is a gentleman, not coming in where he isn't welcomed, it doesn't mean that we can write His schedule too. When we have committed ourselves to His service, and given ourselves and our schedules to Him, sometimes things get complicated. Sometimes, we have to just call and say "I'm not going to make it to this ________ today, something unexpected came up. Let's reschedule _________."

Today is one of those days for me.

I feel like God is just saying, "I gave you days off because I see that you're exhausted. I get this. Now, come and spend some time with Me so that you can relax and recharge. Stop pushing yourself and let me take care of you for these few hours."

I struggle to know what to do with that, but right now I've got my headphones in and I'm listening to a worship playlist. As soon as that first song came on, I felt a peace that I haven't felt in quite a while. I guess God is going to take care of me. I'm still struggling with letting myself just take the break; my brain just wants me to keep trying to update my entire science class schedule to accommodate these days off but still keep the labs on the right days of the week. I don't even have the binder to do this rescheduling; I left it at school so that if something went wrong, someone else could pick it up and know exactly what I have planned for that day. When it is warmer out, I'll bring it home sometimes to update, but when it is cold like this or some kind of being sick is flying around like crazy again, I leave it just in case.

STDs and Sunday Mornings

I did a health class experiment with some of my students a few weeks ago. I'll admit that it didn't go quite the way that I had intended it to. The premise was that abstinence will prevent STDs 100% of the time. One student was abstinent, two more were in a monogamous relationship with each other, and the others had "sex" at will with anyone else included in the activity. One color of the Starburst candies represented HIV/AIDS. The final result was to show that those who are abstinent for life and those who wait for marriage (in the case where their partner also waited) would not contract a STD through sexual contact.

At the end of this experiment, I let the kids eat whatever candy was in their bag...

The next week, one of the students who participated came up to me and asked, "Miss Liz, do you have any more STDs? I'm all out." Another piped up with the comment, "Yeah, they were good. When are you going to bring more STDs?" These comments just happened to occur right in front of a new student and his father. The dad gave me a look that asked a hundred questions. The son was momentarily taken aback, but quickly recovered and declared "TMI!" I proceeded to explain about our health class experiment and that the kids were asking me to give them more candy. Everyone became visibly more relaxed when a clear explanation became available.

Yesterday, I took my niece to church with me. It isn't the first time that she has gone, but it is the first time that I've taken her with me to the early service. At seven years old, she is starting to get pretty good at reading new words, but she doesn't always understand the meaning. This became pretty clear throughout the service. She would grab my hand and look up at me with a confused and concerned expression, wave me down, and urgently whisper a question in my ear. There was no getting away from it; I had to explain to her several of the words. I saw her relax as she realized that one of those "big" words really meant the same thing as several smaller words that she knew.

During the sermon, she was carefully flipping through the hymnal. Mid-sermon, she found the song "The Old Rugged Cross." The question that immediately followed this discovery was "Will you read this to me?" I told her that I would find it for her and she could hear it when I got home. (I did find it on Youtube, and played her the Johnny Cash/ June Carter Cash version. She was so drawn in that when asked a question, it had to be repeated twice before she was able to answer it.) When she asked me what page we were on, I told her that she was in the wrong book. She looked appalled, but quickly found the Bible under her seat. With some help, she found the right page. Her next question, I'm certain, left me with a shocked look of my own. She asked me if she could go up front and read from the Bible. I hope that I gave her the right answer when I told her that she couldn't do it this time.

I do know that she loves to go to church with my husband and I because we will sing along with the songs on the radio. The idea is to try to prepare ourselves ahead of time for worship, since we are serving in the church. Several times, I caught her picking up on the chorus of the songs and singing along with us. God definitely has something awesome planned for this precious little girl.

Touch of Love

Until last night, I wasn't sure what the words were to explain why I need to be touched so much. I guess that I just hadn't ever thought of it from this perspective. But yes, I am one of those people who will probably always crave touch. While I don't like when others can see that I'm not ok, I love it when they ask if I need a hug and proceed to give me one. Hugs, a hand on the arm, even patting me on the head like a little kid (as long as you aren't being condescending about it), are all things that make me feel loved.


I've figured out now that there are two kinds of touches for me, healing and destructive. This isn't like good touch bad touch that we are taught as children. Healing touch is any touch that is given freely, without reservation, and is filled with love. Destructive touch is a touch that is forced and coerced, one with a darker hidden message behind it.

Touching me in a loving way is like reaching into my heart and taking the hand of the little girl inside and promising to help protect and heal her. This is a very wounded little girl, so used to being hurt that any trace of honest love means the world. Healing this little girl is a process, and until she is healed, as an adult I'm not going to be either. So if you see me looking like I could use a hug, feel free to come over and offer if you want to.