Friends come to town!

I am just a busy little bug these days.
Life is one great thing to the next great thing, including the visit this weekend of 4 of my favorite out-of-towners.

On Saturday  Gene and Kathy just happened to be driving through State College on their way home to Massachusetts from a wedding in West Virginia, and just happened to drop by my house.

Their happening meant that we could sit in my living room lounging and talking, sit in their hotel room lounging and talking, sit over dinner at the Tavern downtown.  Lounging and talking.

They came to church the next morning and smiled at me from the congregation while I played on the stage.  Then there was hugging and more hugging, as they went on their way.

Such good friends, so good to me, so good to see them.

Then, later that night, Emily and Aden were in town, and there was dinner to be had.

We met at Amy's, where we lounged and talked and debated where our dinner should take place.

We settled on Olde New York, a local place with a menu made mainly of German inspired sauerkraut.

Luckily for us, it was also Oktoberfest, which included good beer and live music.  And lederhosen.

And, [introducing!] Caleb!

[The newest addition to our little family, I've known Caleb for years and a) adore him and b) adore the fact that he is now dating our darling Amy.]

We lounged and talked in front of the cozy fireplace, drinking in the beer, the music, the lederhosen, and each other.

When all was said and the lounging was done, we made our way to the parking lot where there was hugging and more hugging, and I came to the conclusion:

Gee, I love it when friends come to town!

Love, Rearranged

Closing in on a year ago now, 

I ran into a wall, fell flat on my rear-end, 

and--bewildered--sat there.  

On the ground.  

Looking around, saying 'what in the world just happened?!' 

And God--who'd been waiting for that moment--looked at me, rubbed His hands together with glee, and said,

'Oh! You're here! Good.  Now we can get started.'

Counselors, prayer teams, mentors and friends surrounded me and supported me as God spoke and moved and made it clear:

It is for freedom that Christ has set me free.

  Over this year I have learned to believe that until we understand this key component of God's heart, 

we will never understand God's heart.  

If you think that perhaps you don't know what that word 'freedom' means, ask Him to show you, 

because here's another thing I've learned: He will.  

Show you, that is, because here's another key component:

He wants to.

Because His heart is for you.

Now, I thought I understood what that meant. I knew that I was loved by God!  What Christian doesn't know that?! 

But one of those pray-ers during one of those prayer times I mentioned earlier spoke over me words that I have watched come true without my knowing that they needed to.  He said 

'You are rearranging your understanding of the Father's love',

and, I am here to tell you:

I am now walking in Love, rearranged.

See, now that I know what freedom is, I know that I can be myself in all of my mess, turn to God and say 'help!'.  I know that He will not condemn me, He will not turn His back.  

He will say: 'I was just waiting for you to ask!'

And He will move mountains of my junk,

delighting in me the whole time. 

Now you might think it's odd that I've chosen this random day to tell you about all of this, but here's why I'm thinking about it:

This past weekend Heather and Ash went away, and I rolled into their garage with my car, my bags, and my pillow for 4 days of fun with Sarah and Kate--

and there is no better lesson regarding what real love is than to spend some lengthy time with children who've gotten your heart.

Sometimes they are so sweet,

 you just want to squeeze them.

But, sometimes....

they, are, full, of, sass.

Sometimes their giggles fill your heart,

 and their desire to be as close to you as they can be makes you break into snuggles and song (and nail painting supplies),

but, sometimes...

getting a word out of them is like pulling teeth.  

Out of something that has no teeth.

When they stuff half a hot dog down their throat because they're starving

(after you've heard a litany of 'I'm starving I'm starving I'm starving I'm starving' the entire football-traffic-enhanced car ride to the restaurant),

when they lose control during a game that was intended to maintain the reign of calm before bedtime,

(mm-hmm)

and when they are more interested in filling, drinking from, and shooting the water gun that they continually seem to find no matter how many times you hide it while you're trying to braid the hair that they insist must be braided,

your love for them never changes.  Never waivers.  

(And, by the way, I'd just like to say:

look at that braid. I mean, can I get an appreciation from somebody?)

And--despite the fact that you may feel a bit under appreciated or as if you'll never sleep a full night again or like there must be something that would alleviate their constant need to eat--your love takes great delight in them, 

because you think they are the cutest, 

and that they do the darndest things.

Like, when they spend--literally--15 minutes completely focused on buttoning themselves into your clothing:

Like when they work so cooperatively together,

 laughing so joyfully as they box with each other on the screen

 (which, by the way, was your GENIUS idea for focusing the energy that control was lost over moments before...),

and when they chatter away about all the little things their little hearts love while they make themselves pizza fit for much bigger people.

So here's the thing that these sweet little monkeys showed me this weekend:

That when they are free to be themselves, to do whatever it is that they do, they still experience my full love.

And, when they show me that they understand that it's a key component of my heart by relying on it to be so?

It makes our relationship real.

Understanding God's love involves understanding that

--NO MATTER WHAT I DO--

there is no condemnation, there is no turning of anyone's back.

And--at the end of the weekend, and of the proverbial day?

I am rearranged.

Let's jaunt...

...to Williamsport, the new home of my lovely friends, 

Emily & Aden.

Just because they're in a new place doesn't mean the nature of our friendship has to discontinue.

Hence, the jaunt this past weekend, undertaken by Amy and I,

included a walk around the new neighborhood, 

to get a lay of the land.

There was some porch dwelling conversation,

and preparation of soul-fortifying food.

There was grilling involved,

and selection of tunes on the stereo.

There was eating of said food,

and much fortifying of souls.

Then there was the winding down of the night,

with a little mood music

and some napping, 

while the coffee brewed and the dessert warmed.

Altogether there was good eating, 

good talking, good being together, 

even in this new setting.

Good jaunting.

And here's a special note to you three lovely friends:
Let's jaunt often.

Work, in case you forgot I do some.

If you have forgotten, don't worry.  I forget pretty frequently too.

But, here, proof that work is at least on my radar:

Firstly, my new work area in my new house.
(See, there are books there!)

And, secondly, the blog I wrote today for that new job I told you about, which can be found at http://www.psu.edu/dept/site/2011/09/look-for-the-instruments-listen-to-the-symphony.html if you want to be official, but is also pasted below, just for kicks.

Look for the Instruments, Listen to the Symphony

It’s the first day of class. You stand in front of the classroom, staring out at the wall of faces staring out at you.  This is your learning community for the semester—the students entrusted to you for growth, meaning-making, change for betterment and life-long impact.

You have great responsibility here.

But today, that wall of faces is still just a wall.  You have no way of knowing the individual needs, individual lives, individual gifts of the individual faces that compose that wall.  All you see is their sameness: Students.  In your class.

Now, you could choose to see the wall all semester long.  Or, you could look out at your symphony.

Please forgive me, I’m a musician.  But—I am also a teacher, and here is what I’ve been thinking about:

As a teacher, do I stand in front of my classroom and envision each student holding their individual instrument?  Do I see the bassoon, the flute, the violin, the timpani?  Do I listen for the unique contributions of each instrument within the symphony before me, and do I strive to understand how the parts contribute to the whole? Do I embrace the reality that there would not be a symphony without those instruments?  And do I consider that perhaps I am just another instrument within their ranks?

I’ve been thinking about this due to an article that recently ran in The Chronicle, entitled Collaborative Learning for the Digital Age, by Cathy Davidson.  Although, to be more truthful it wasn’t the article that made me think about it.  It was one paragraph, defined by one phrase: “collaboration by difference”.

You can read the article for yourself if you want to know the context [and I suggest that you really do want to know the context, as it’s very cool, and very applicable to you as a forward thinking sort of educator], but –since it has absolutely nothing to do with symphonies—allow me to explain what it was that I took away and spun into my own context:

Davidson writes that “collaboration by difference respects and rewards different forms and levels of expertise, perspective, culture, age, ability, and insight, treating difference not as a deficit but as a point of distinction.”  This is where she got me: difference is not a deficit—it’s a point of distinction.  It’s what makes a potentially divergent contribution important, necessary.  And collaboration by difference means that divergence can be brought together in a meaningful and purposeful way.

Collaboration—after all—is about bringing together.  Google the word ‘collaboration’ and you’ll find phrases like ‘working together’, ‘joint endeavor’ and ‘shared goals’.  There’s consensus implied in a collaboration—in the sense that these people have worked together and have come to a consensus—but more too:

A collaboration brings us beyond consensus into something new.  Using our differences to work together results in a co-construction of new territory.  It is—in its very essence—change.  And to change is to learn.

Since I desire learning to occur within my classroom, I need to allow for collaboration by difference in the underlying rules of our classroom community.  I need to see the distinctive and potentially divergent instruments sitting in front of me while I listen for the symphony.

I need to look beyond the wall. 

Labor-ish

So, the fall semester began and life started spinning, and suddenly I find myself past the middle of the month of September significantly lacking in my bloggy updating.  

So sorry, here we go!

Labor Day Weekend.  

A time made for picnics and home maintenance.

 (In my experience, anyway).  

My Labor Day Weekend included a bit of both and more, 

but not quite where or how you might expect:

I was with my favorite Baxters!!

We Labored all right, but we know how to keep it fun.

(Labor-ish, you might say...)

After a full day of that home maintenance I mentioned, 

there was some preparation of delectable-ness.

There was some Apple-to-Appling, 

which involved some labor of mind,

but even more hilarity.

And then, the following day, we put our Labor levels to the test

by visiting 'The Niagara of Pennsylvania'.

We began with that all-American picnic,

but then we got a-hikin',

as there were some pretty incredible sights to see,

and a lot of steps to climb.

We took time to relax along the way,

 to keep things light,

and to take some meaningful pictures.

(Well, we tried anyway...)

(Oh, look! Here's one!)

At the end of it all we were pretty beat,

but pretty pleased with the labor-ish-ness of our day

and of our overall Weekend.

Really.