I do still exist.

This blog has gotten dusty, for sure. I’m out of habit. And, I’ve been really busy. Ben and I both have, since returning from our weekend away. That business has largely kept me away of internet/computer time longer than 10-15 minutes. And that has in fact been a blessing. So, I haven’t bucked hard against my time constraints, fighting to carve out time to create a post as I have previously. I’ve needed the fresh, non-webified air.

I don’t know how I will proceed here, right now. I’m certainly not closing the blog, or giving up writing. But, I also don’t want to use faulty reasoning that would lead to a self-bullied return to internet writing.

Thank you for your presence, and patience, those of you who are out there! I appreciate prayers God would lead you to pray for me.

Love.

(This weekend, Ben and I are headed back to the North Shore! To Beverly, again! Well, more or less. We’re seeing john & jen, a play featuring the dramatic prowess of my sister-in-law, Hannah. I’m excited to see this play particularly because she’s one of two main characters in the play (Jen). Another perk of the trip: Ben will be retrieving his briefcase, containing key musical equipment, that he left in Massachusetts when we were there a couple weeks ago. Thanks, Dane Street/Mac/Jeff/others for keeping it safe!)

At the risk of turning this blog post in a travel brochure circa 1990, here are a couple pictures of where we’ll be playing. If you look at the bottom center of the lake, there’s a gray stone church building with either…a flock of white birds above it or some sort of constellation-y statue. It’s probably a flock of birds. Anywho, if you look at the 2 field areas to the right of that church–that’s where we’ll be!

Now, to take you back to perhaps the late ’80′s, direct your gaze to this picture:

In spite of its dubious quality, I’m delighted that this image was found in the google search as this is precisely the gazebo/bandstand we’ll be playing in this afternoon! Though it may look munchkin like from this picture, I assure you it is not.

Ben and I were welcomed into the home of a warm, playful woman named Cheryl, who fed us an equally warm meal last night and shared strories  who’s feeding us pancakes shortly, which means this post has about a minute left in its creation.

Tomorrow, we’ll be reuniting with the folks at Dane Street Church in Beverly. I’m glad we’ll get to see THIS guy again and meet his lovely new wife:

[ Mac and his lovely wife Britney ]

Exciting! We love Mac.

End note: I’m actually posting this much past breakfast, as consistent internet connection was lacking. Since then, we met up at the park, helped set up a number of tents, coordinated sound gear, and have wandered bit in downtown Wakefield for some WiFi. Thoroughly enjoying the muted light, cool air, and quiet of Lucius Beebe memorial library (me? enjoy a library? pfff.)–it was built in 1922 in honor of a man and wife, built by their children with land donated by the town. Neato.

Before I go, two recipes I want to try soon, for snack-y type items:

Bread and Butter Pickles

Baked Crispy Kale

Signing off for now!

exists in this:

This is the “dream home” of Sandra Foster, which actually sits on a New York farm plot she and her husband, Todd, own. She renovated and refurbished the 9×14-foot Victorian hunting cabin herself for $3,000. Lacking a kitchen or bathroom, this small cottage serves as a studio and refuge for Foster; she had a vision of this kind of space when she was 15 and her family was transient after her father lost his job.

Now, looking at this dreamy domicile with the inferred knowledge that this is not the Fosters’ primary living space might make you think, “I bet their other mansion is a 90% enlarged version of this house.” But amusingly…nay! It is not! On the rest of the acreage is a trailer, their shared home, whose retro interior lead to the moniker “The Groove Tube”.

Seem incongruous? Read the description of the married couple:

She is 42, a size zero and wears pink wellies, black tights and a paint-spattered Irish knit sweater over a brown jersey. Sitting in their trailer, listening to her husband speak, she brushes first the long hair of Zuzu, one of her two Maltese dogs, whom she sometimes refers to as her daughter, then her own long white-blond hair.

Mr. Foster, 51, is a man whose chest gives the impression that he has to go through doors sideways. An independent spirit who left high school at 15 to see the country, he has worked as a carpenter, a cook and a landscaper. His two much-larger dogs are Ruffy, a Doberman mix he found by the side of the road, tossed from a car as a puppy, and Mullet, a Labrador retriever. He also has 19 chickens, 8 chicks and 8 baby pheasants. Plus, Ms. Foster noted, two hummingbirds, though technically, they merely visit.

Enjoyable.

Read the rest at the Times Online. And pleaseplease experience the delight of looking at the rest of the pictures here at the slideshow–especially the particular picture I’m linking you to of her white poofy loftbed…(I tried to feature that one here, but Times wouldn’t let me.) Pretty.

This post is, as some would say, sticking in my craw. Nevermind that I don’t know what a craw is. Wikipedia probably does, though. Anyway, Ann posted on (In)Courage the other day, and is givin’ it to me where it hurts. Sample?

I am a daughter failed and I am a parent failing and I know it in ways now I never knew: if I rip apart the bridge of forgiveness for my own parents with my own hands, I destroy the only way my own children can come to me.

Buh. Why she gotta tap the nerve, highlight the sore spot? Doin’ so in the Spirit of God, methinks. If you took some time to read, what was your response? What stands out to you? What do you hear the whisper of God speaking?

Second.

I’ve changed my blog theme! Whether you’ve visited my blog in the past or not, I’d love to hear your feedback. I’m diggin’ it so far, for a number of reasons too boring to enumerate here.

If you’ve stopped by before but haven’t ever commented, this might be a practical, low-stakes way to get your feet wet. And a sure-fire way to bring a smile to my face!

S’all for now.

Though uncharacteristic of my reading choices, this blip from Mark Shead’s article on Productivity501 is a winner. Sparked by an email newsletter, I started reading “Never Hire an MBA”. Obviously, the author is lovin’ on drama-stirring fiats. Such generalizations generally don’t tickle my fancy; I tend to mentally swat them away like obnoxious linguistic pests. But when I noticed that the article focused on how formal education isn’t all it’s cracked up to be (in this case from the hiring perspective), it tapped into a conviction of mine and I read.

The writer discusses various problems with hiring a person carrying an MBA but not work experience. One of them: overconfidence. But overconfidence isn’t an MBA thing.  It’s a human thing. It’s a deceitfulness-of-sin thing. Consequently, it’s a me thing. The ideas below aren’t new, but ideas don’t have to be new to be valuable (just ask the apostles). Professionally, the concepts are applicable to a wide-variety of fields–definitely education! But on a more basic level, the observations apply to many aspects of our personal lives. Master’s degree not required; the danger exists in any area where my knowledge exceeds my experience. Or rather, it’s a step back from that. Frighteningly, it lurks when I’ve unknowingly conflated knowledge with experience, or am unaware that the former doesn’t equal the latter.

Shead writes:

[Overconfidence] is…an issue with people who have had very little real work experience. While most MBA programs offer good content, simply being exposed to a lot of great ideas doesn’t say much about your ability to implement those ideas in real life. Just because someone took a class in negotiations doesn’t mean they are any good at it.  Worse, they may think they are good at it and blindly cause a number of problems. Confidence is good, but not when it blinds you to your inability…

If you think you are bad at something, it probably doesn’t hinder you much.  When you get to a situation that requires that skill, you are extra careful, ask for help, delegate, etc…However, when you think you are good at something its easy to overlook obvious signs that you are doing something wrong.

I once met with a newly minted MBA who was taking a new position.  I asked about what she considered her greatest strengths.  She gave me a list of 5 or 6 things that she felt she was really good at.  A few months later in a 360 degree evaluation (where everyone evaluates everyone else) her weakest attributes were exactly matched the list she had given me a few months earlier.

Those ideas make me shudder. SCA-RY.

Probably because I have experienced the fall off the deceptive, haughty heights of intellectual overconfidence during my transition from college to teaching. Probably because I have experienced the fall off of similar precipices of relational & spiritual overconfidence through various events. I praise God for each exodus and resulting vision correction. However, another consequence is an increase in appropriate terror at just how threatening, how astoundingly silent and pervasively present these confidence-pockets are. Enhancing their peril is that the inward experience of them is predominantly…neutral. Like a 70-degree, sunny, slightly-windy day.

Now, I don’t agree with this dude when he says that thinking you are bad at something probably doesn’t hinder you. WRONG. Talk to any of my students. Talk to me! A more apt phrasing: you’re probably not hindered if you are aware that you lack mastery, or that you, as a limited human being, need others’ help to ensure success. In other words, if you have a truly humble (AKA accurate) view of yourself. I still remember a prayer of my former pastor’s–he cried out for God to give him/us true humility. Because there’s a million and one things that can seem like humility in our hearts and minds and eyes. But we want actual humility, which we can’t fashion ourselves but is, like true repentance, a gift of God’s spirit.

I don’t think overconfidence is ever 100% avoidable–precisely because you need the experiences (+ revelation) to curb an otherwise natural tendency. On the other hand, experiences don’t preclude the overconfidence–enter our little friend “denial”. The “newly minted” MBA the author refers to in the cited passage can choose not to take seriously the feedback of her colleagues; she has the freedom to invalidate them or deafen her ears.  And experience can breed it’s own brand of overconfidence. How many times have you heard someone refer to their age or story that effectively exempts them from new blind-spots (the reemergence of old ones)?

.          .          .

And now for the unrelated, post-ending, eye-delighting find of the day:

Hand-crafted jewelry and other assorted treasures inspired by mold, anemones, lichens and such. Click the picture to visit Elin’s blog, or the link here to check out her store!

Blessed God,

Ten thousand snares are mine without and within,
defend thou me;
When sloth and indolence seize me,
give me views of heaven;
When other sinners entice me,
give me disrelish of their ways;
When sensual pleasures tempt me,
purify and refine me;
When I desire worldly possessions,
help me to be rich toward thee;
When the vanities of the world ensnare me,
let me not plunge into new guilt and ruin.

May I remember the dignity of my spiritual release,
never be too busy to attend to my soul,
never be so engrossed with time
that I neglect the things of eternity;
thus may I not only live, but grow towards thee.

Form my mind to right notions of religion,
that I may not judge of grace by wrong conceptions,
nor measure my spiritual advances by the efforts of my natural being.

May I seek after an increase of divine love to thee,
after unreserved resignation to thy will,
after extensive benevolence to my fellow creatures,
after patience and fortitude of soul,
after a heavenly disposition,
after a concern that I may please thee in public and private.

Draw on my soul the lineaments of Christ,
in every trace and feature of which thou wilt take delight, for I am
thy workmanship, created in Christ Jesus,
thy letter written with the Holy Spirit’s pen,
thy tilled soil ready for the sowing, then harvest.

So, I supposed in answer to the question “In waiting for what?”, I’d say…I am waiting for space and time to breathe and be me, quietly. Quietly–but not squandering that peaceful time on worthless hours on the internet. Certain ways of using internet time is valuable. Not the couple hours I’ve been spending this week, when I’ve had them. God, help me. I’m not good at fighting that habit, that pull.

Looking to start afresh
my start to the summer.

On my walks,
when my heart brims over in awe and thanks and love to the God who seeks and saves and loves,
gazing at the wide sky is as close as I get to looking in his face
and I yearn to catapult myself up there
arms spread wide
and get stuck—little me flat on big wide God
like a bug on a windshield.

That’s how I hug Him in my spirit.
Getting lost in Abba while holding a tight grip.

(If the bug image ain’t up yer alley, you might alternatively imagine me on one of these.)

Filed under: living faith, tidbits ]]> http://findandfound.wordpress.com/2010/06/15/splat/feed/ 3 ifindimfound http://matadornetwork.cachefly.net/matadortrips.com/docs//wp-content/images/posts/20090601-montana1.jpg http://findandfound.wordpress.com/2010/06/14/happy-un-birthday-metapost/ http://findandfound.wordpress.com/2010/06/14/happy-un-birthday-metapost/#comments Mon, 14 Jun 2010 23:01:23 +0000 ifindimfound http://findandfound.wordpress.com/?p=617 Keep reading →]]> It might make more sense of a certain kind to wait until an actual anniversary to blog about blogging. But, I won’t, ’cause the thoughts are here now.

I’ve written for almost two months (I’m not even teething yet). While there have been a couple spans recently during which this land has stayed dormant, I’m close to the post-a-day mark. More than simply checking off a post requirement or crossing out an item on my to-do-list, this fact is valuable because I desire to write. To reflect literarily daily.

Some of you expert executive-functioners out there might say, “Uh, so?” I’m aware that for many people, daily commitment–daily upkeep and practice– ain’t no thang, especially for something you love. That’s not true for me, though. Even with my more explicit passions, maintenance and regularity is hard, especially because time is at a premium.

I have thoroughly enjoyed having an occasion to write. Reason to write, beyond myself. Now, this is not to say I’m under the impression that there’s an e-colosseum of readers out there, poised and ready, hanging on every new words I type forth.

But the simple public nature of the blog–the fact that I can pull together and arrange links, pictures, reflections, questions, books, etc. and then SHOW them–is a real help to me. That “Publish” button triggers something in my brain that an image of me scribbling in my journal does not. Or, does not consistently inspire. Even if I had no page views, I’d probably still blog. I hope I’d still blog.

It’s let me be officially thoughtful again. Instead of rolling around in the mess of my brain, I become solidified. When written about, even questions and confusion gain an authority and security that seem antithetical to their nature.

I’ll already amend my statement. It’s not simply the act of writing that is new and refreshing; I technically have written often over the past few years, given my current job in education. Rather, what’s new is undertaking a type of writing that grapples to find an appropriately illustrative, savory, surprising expression for certain thoughts and questions. One might imagine that teaching upper school language arts would keep such tangyness alive. Not necessarily. Out of a need for directness, explicitness, transparency in my particular subject area/content, I’ve trimmed “superfluous” branches from my thinking, speaking, and writing from 9AM to 3PM. This is a cause for sadness; those superfluous branches are actually essential parts of me!

I’m don’t mean to present as a victim, though. I willingly pruned myself. Why? A sense of how I “ought” to do things in the classroom. Whose “ought” was that? From administration? Other teachers’ explicit or implied messages? Students’ preference and actual responses to course content? My own flawed sense of what works and what doesn’t? I’m not totally sure. Probably a combination, but the responsibility is ultimately mine.

Thankfully, this year had more breaths of life for me. For better or worse, students engaged with ideas, way of engagement, and a personality that were more honestly me. More of actual Jessica seeped into the 9-3 hours. That’s important–for me and my awesome students. I still had segments of dullery. But I’m growing.

Circling back: more time spent shaping and working text–text of my own mind and to my own ends vs. the students’ and the school’s–makes me more “me”, and even adds more value to what I can give to the students, the school. After posting, I receive doses of unexpected energy that propel me to tackle lackluster tasks I’d naturally and willfully avoid (let’s hear it for activation ability!).  This blog is a way God is reviving, resuscitating me. As I mention elsewhere, the fact that I can share it enlivens and magnifies my delight.

I’m glad to playfully experiment, pull words together.

I’m thankful for daily practice.

I’m glad to have this space.

[a new find from this weekend: jewelry-maker/overall-artist Danni. i'd be tickled to own anything she creates...and she even has a table-top press!!! *drools. (wipes off drool. is grossed out by public drooling)* click her name to visit her blog; click the image to visit her store.]

[ Thanks to a Border's gift card/birthday present from my friend Cheryl and a 40% off coupon, I didn't have to pay nuffin' for it! But I'm happy to have it. My buddy Laura referred it to me in response to my post describing the power that teenage student ladies at times still exert over me with their terrible mocking faces and scornful whispered talk.  Click the image to explore it in GoogleBooks. ]

I want someone to make me this drink:

[ Raspberry Mojito. Click on the pic to go to a smorgasbord of mojito recipes, including this one. The watermelon mojito is also enticing...]

I am tempted to buy this aesthetically pleasing executive-functioning aid:

[ a letterpressed birthday calendar! meaning...each of the pages you see above helps you keep track of birthdays in that month. pretty! purposeful! click on the image to see more pictures or purchase! ]