Dishonor 2014

So I realize the Ronning Christmas letter has gone well beyond 'fashionably' late, skipped through 'embarrassingly' late, and has buried itself comfortably within 'bringing your family shame' late. I think Mushu says it best:

As I baste in my dishonor I'm not going to give you any excuses; I'm just going to dive right into our Christmas 2014 update. 

Dan and I started the year off sensing that God was doing something in us, but we weren't quite sure what that was. We spent a lot of time praying into that and listening. But as it does, life continued moving. We were both feeling a lot of pressure at work and needed to get away for a bit. Praise the Lord, we had planned a trip to Ireland over Dan's birthday! (kind of--more on that in a post to come). I can't put into words how wonderful our trip was! We spent a week driving all over the country, being immersed in the culture, resting and marveling together. My favorite parts of the trip were seeing the Cliffs of Mohr, Kylemore Abbey, and Kilmainhem Gaol. The highlight for Dan though, was staying at our townhouse, watching the rugby game, and grabbing dinner at a local pub. Needless to say it has increased our desire to be stationed overseas!

 After we got back from Ireland life started to move pretty quickly. Dan switched offices and responsibilities at his job. Now he manages the financial services office. He really enjoys having more of a leadership role and has worked hard to change the organization of the office for the better.

Remember that feeling I told you we started the year with? The one where we knew God was doing something but we didn't know what? Well, we began to realize God was calling us away from our church and my job. Shocked. Unsettled. Anxious. Could this be real? Maybe we misunderstood Him...When we moved here our plan was to stay at Trinity until we got restationed. It was painful to even think about leaving the students we loved. But we knew God is faithful. And when He calls, even if we don't feel ready, we obey.

Dan encouraged me to take the summer off. He wanted me to rest and reflect. What had I learned from working at the church? Would I do it again? In my free time I trained for a half marathon, which I finished in June! I never would have thought I could do it, but I did! I got to go home for a few weeks for my sister's graduation and wedding! I also taught myself to quilt. As our friends get pregnant and have babies it's a joy to give them a true labor of love. We had visitors--both of our families, and my friend, Heather. And we spent a lot of time exploring Alaska, little hiking trips with our dog, Kacey. All the while, Dan was thinking about what he would like to do next with his career. He began studying to take his GMAT and applying to grad school at AFIT (air Force Institute of Technology). When Dan's family visited we got to do a couple of fishing charters. Altogether they caught 69 lbs of fish! It has ruined me. After having more than my fair share of fresh Alaskan salmon and halibut nothing will ever compare. I may never eat fish again.

This fall I got a job at a local cafe. I had always kind of romanticized the idea of working at a coffee shop--seeing the regulars, observing life happen to so many people, etc. I even became that cashier that knows a customer's order before he gets to the counter. It was fun and Dan REALLY enjoyed the hot chocolate and pastries I would bring home. It didn't fulfill me though, so I was starting to get bored. And knowing that we are moving this summer, we were anxious to see if Dan got into his grad school program. Most of the fall was characterized by impatiently waiting. We were told we'd find out in October. We didn't. November-no word.

The last two weeks before Christmas were full of excitement and news though! I applied for and accepted a job as a 5th grade teacher at a private school for the second semester. (Yet another thing I never thought I would do...I think God enjoys this.) I'm thrilled to be working with kids again, and while I don't feel prepared for this job, it gives me the chance every day to rely on God rather than my abilities.

And after 6 months of waiting.....drum roll please.....DAN GOT INTO GRAD SCHOOL!!! He will be studying cost analysis at AFIT!! He can't wait to start learning again in a school setting. He has enjoyed being in the work force, but it will be a nice change of pace to be in the classroom again.

It's crazy that we'll only be in AK for a few more months. We definitely want to do some more cross country skiing and hiking before we move. But it's exciting to think about what Ohio has to offer! (Special thanks to Dave and Valentina for the beautiful wall hanging! It's a great way to document our life in the Air Force).

Although 2014 was a year of change, we are looking forward to 2015. We've enjoyed our time in AK and the relationships we've made, but we're looking forward to our next season in OH and what God has planned for us there.

Love,
The Ronnings

P.S. Now that I've updated you all, I no longer feel any shame or dishonor. Mushu will just have to find someone else to shame.

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

One of my favorite parts of the day are those few moments right after I wake up. I wipe the sleep from my eyes and try desperately to hold on to the intricacies of my dreams. Often swept away in adventure, dream Aimee helps save the world from impending doom. (She is pretty heroic--plagued by the balance of mercy and justice. You would like her. She's saved you several times.) But within a few minutes of waking all of the details of my journey disappear, replaced by a vague awareness of the big picture. When I have really fun dreams I struggle and fight to hold on. I want to tell my husband about them, but even then I can't recreate the magic for him. 

Every once in a rare while though, I have a dream that lingers for days. It almost haunts me. I'm talking about the kind where you wake up and you still vividly feel the emotions you felt as your dream ended. You can't quite shake the faces you saw or the events that took place. It just stays with you. Does that ever happen to you? I had a dream like that once about my husband...before we were even dating. It threw me for a loop for days and ended up making me decide to give him a chance if he showed any interest. Crazy.

Last night I had one of those dreams. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all morning. The first part is opaque--a foggy memory. But with the last part I remember every detail; the feelings still linger; I can't escape the face I saw. 

It started out where Dan and I had to go through some crazy obstacle course underground. Bone chilling dampness in a dimply lit room. We had to do all kinds of crazy things that I don't quite remember. Jump through hoops. Climb what seemed to be infinite ladders. But eventually we crawled out of the cellar into a cozy, warm room. And there waiting for us was this adorable blonde, curly haired little boy with a spark in his eye. We rushed to him, eager to hold him--to feel his warmth against us. He was real. He was ours. We had adopted him and we were finally able to bring him home. The joy and love we felt still remains in my heart. It was this picture perfect moment of utter bliss. He curled in on himself with laughter as we told him how much we loved him and cuddled as close as possible.

His face. His joy. And our hearts so full of love. That's what remains with me today. Like a precious memory yet to be. I'm not saying anything will come from this dream. But for now it's fun to think, and imagine, and dream about a future hopefully not far off. 

What do you do with the dreams that haunt you? What are they about?

All the feels

It's a dreary, rainy day, and I'm feeling all the things. ALL of them. I don't want to feel them all. I don't want to feel any of them. But alas, they are there. So what's to be done?

Option 1: Find a comfy sweater, jeans, and slippers. Top it off with a cute scarf. (I don't want to look like a total bum here.) Light a bunch of candles. Turn on the fireplace. Cuddle up with my puppy and marathon something on Netflix. Chuck to be exact. (Decent Choice--comfortable, who doesn't love comfort?)

Option 2: Think about the feelings. Journal about the feelings. Process the feelings. Ugh. Feelings, feelings, feelings. (This is my least favorite option. Can you tell? Hard work. Potential pain. Possible tears. Count. Me. Out.)

Option 3: Bed. Go directly to bed. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Go to bed. Hide under the blankets. Do not come out again until the feelings are gone. (Obviously the best option. Revolt against the feelings! Who's with me?!)

It's pretty clear that option 3 is the most desirable option. It's the easiest. Safest. There's no risk at all, and as an added bonus, it's warm! Yay blankets! However, it's stagnant. It leaves no room for growth. C. S. Lewis describes something like this well: 

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

Dang, Mr. Lewis. I hate it when you're right. Safe actually comes with too many risks--an unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable heart. Not worth it. All right, scratch option 3. 

I'm still not liking option 2 very much. It sounds hard. So we're scratching that one too.

But option 1 is too easy...too comfortable. Can anyone really grow when they are comfortable, unchallenged, secure? I think option 1 leads to a life of blissful ignorance. And, to be honest, that's not really what I'm looking for. Scratch option 1 too.

So we're still left with all the feelings and 3 scratched options. I think the feelings are pretty unavoidable. They're still there, bubbling and mulling: creating new trains of thought. Dang. I wish they'd stop, but I'm motivated by this desire for true healing. The kind Jesus offers.

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." - John 10:10

Fullness of life requires authentic healing. Which means...I have to feel the feels; not exactly on my list of favorite things. So how can we make this easier?

FINAL Option: Find a comfy sweater, jeans, and slippers. Top it off with a cute scarf. (I don't want to look like a total bum here.) Light a bunch of candles. Turn on the fireplace. Grab the journal. Start processing the feelings. It will be okay. The blow will be softened by the candles, cute scarf, and comfy sweater. 

And so my journey begins...

My dog, Kacey

Yes...I already know what you're thinking. "Wasn't there a book or a movie like that? Wasn't it 'My dog, Skip?"

Yes there was. And I was playing on your associations. Like Marley and Me. Except that Kacey is a puppy, and I don't even want to think about how that ends...and 'My dog, Kacey' has a better ring to it. Besides, Skip is a stupid name for a dog. Let's be honest.

So...in May, we got a dog. Dan picked her out from a local rescue, because she was sitting quietly in her kennel looking up at us with her big brown eyes, while all the other dogs barked and yapped incessantly. We thought we were getting a sweet, quiet natured dog. There were just two problems. 1. Her name was Kiki. KIKI! Really? And I thought Skip was a bad name for a dog...sheesh. We were definitely going to have to do something about that. And 2. This would be her 3rd home in her first year of life.

So we tackled the first problem right away. We had to come up with a name that started with a hard K sound so she would adjust to it more easily, that didn't make me think of a cartoon girl flying on a broomstick! Hours of creative brain wracks and debates later, this is Kacey:

Now we were surprised to find that Kacey wasn't as calm as she originally had us believing. She is playful ALL THE TIME. She really would prefer for you to chase her all day long, which has led to many unintended (by me) circles around our dinner table. She LOVES people, so much so that she jumps on strangers to lick their faces, or bite their clothes...because apparently that communicates love in dog language? She is incredibly vocal and expressive. Though she rarely barks, she has her own system of chirping, whining, and pawing at you to get her point across. Not to mention her facial expressions. Seriously. And she really is NOT a fan of cuddling. No matter what you do, or how tired or sick she is, she does not want cuddles. 

With all of the package that is our girl....she is perfect for us. She makes us laugh all of the time. She is the perfect way for my husband to utilize the infinite vat of energy that he hides somewhere in that perfectly framed handsome body of his. And she is just the right addition to our little family in this stage of life. 

Kacey, the mountain dog.

Then we started to see signs of the second problem. We hadn't thought much of it before...but she definitely has some "foster kid" issues, which we figured out a couple pairs of shoes, underwear, and  a big hole in our carpet later. Yep, and when we left for our brother's wedding this summer she stopped eating. Altogether. Upon our return she still wouldn't eat. And what she did she immediately threw up. So we figured out she has some pretty severe separation anxiety. Okay. We can handle that. 

But there's more. You see, when you adopt a puppy whose had a home before it came to live with you, you don't necessarily know how they'll respond to everyday situations. Like when their owner takes a bath for instance...

She just kept looking from me to the water in the tub, clearly ignorant of the fact that I was seeking solitude. So she blatantly disregarded my desire to be alone, and do you know what she did? She jumped right in! But then, of course, landing in water, which for some reason she wasn't expecting, sent her into a panic. She tried to climb out the other side of the tub and was met with a wall to the face. Then she just stared at me for 3 solid minutes, with her front paws on the wall and her back paws in the water, as if asking me, "Mom, what do I do? Why is this happening to me?! I DON'T UNDERSTAND!" Eventually I coaxed her back off the wall, into the water, at which point she became immediately fascinated with trying to touch my foot. Slowly, cautiously she would extend her paw to where my foot was, but she could never touch it. And then she would glare at her paw, probably cursing it in her puppy mind for not being able to reach my foot. The depth perception in the water was confusing her. She would try and fail time and again. The next thing I knew she had given up trying to reach my foot and was drawn instead to the razor at the bottom of the tub. She would dive her head in the water, only until halfway up her snout, and try to bite the razor. She could see it, but she couldn't reach that either. And she wouldn't put more of her face underwater, because she doesn't like water on her head. Then she would look up at me laughing at her, a mix of shame and curiosity in her big brown eyes, before trying again. And so the cycle continued. 10 minutes later, she'd had enough. In one grand overdramatic gesture she hurdled out of the tub and proceeded to run laps around our apartment, and down and up our stairs, like a chicken with her head chopped off! All that...over a little bit of water. 

Or when my husband has to work late several days in a row and she can't decide if she is being abandoned or not. She lays at home with me, emotions spiraling like this. 1. Dejected--"He's never coming home. He hates me. What did I do? Why doesn't he love me anymore?" 2. Morose--"There's no point. Nothing matters. Is that a ball?!...Oh wait...I don't care. My life is dark." 3. Comforted by my presence--"Mom's here. Mom won't leave me. Maybe if I cuddle really close to her she will never leave me." That's right, ladies and gentlemen, Kacey has started cuddling with me in Dan's absence. 4. Meltdown--"Maybe he would like me if I wasn't so big. He would come back if I was a little dog." At which point she makes herself puke. Kacey, the amazing, bulimic dog. 5. (When Dan comes home) Ecstatic--"Dad's home! Dad's home! Oh boy, a ball! Dad's home!" We cycle through stages 1-4, repeating them over and over again until Dan comes home, then we stay at 5 until he leaves. 

This is Kacey somewhere between emotions 3 and 4. About five minutes later, without any warning she puked all over our quilt.

And after cycling through the spiral again, she had landed safely at emotion 3 long enough for a nap.

She recently figured out how to close my computer while I'm working on it; in order to have my full attention. You won't be surprised to read she has attempted to close it 4 times since I started this entry. 

My dog, Kacey, is an overly playful, emotionally disturbed mess, and she fits right in with us. She helps us get out to enjoy beautiful Alaska. And while Dan and I have always been connected, she has brought us even closer. We're so happy she has found her forever home with us and that you get to come along for the ride. 

Kacey's best friend, Watson, a small but feisty daschound, will be staying with us for the next week. There are sure to be plenty of puppy shenanigans. 

Blessings in Disguise

I left Alaska and arrived in Mississppi late last Monday night, eager to spend some time with my husband and catch up on sleep! And the first day was precisely that! I slept in, read, made a delicious dinner for Dan, cuddled with him a LOT, and even spent some time at the beach! It was great!

 

 

But on Wednesday I got a phone call that kind of turned everything around. My mom had called to tell me that my great uncle, who had been in the hospital recovering from a heart attack, had passed away. None of us expected it. He has been doing so much better! I was shocked. And Mom took it hard. Uncle Louie had been like a father to her; stepping in when her own dad walked out. He was a selfless, loving man who was eager to open his heart up and let you find a special place there. You never once doubted his love or pride in you. It just wasn't possible. Dan and I made arrangements that night for me to fly to Oklahoma for the funeral. I knew I needed to be there to honor my uncle. To take care of my little brother so Mom could grieve in whatever way she needed to. To help make food for the weekend and after the funeral, so everyone else could focus on other things. And to just be there with my family, bearing the weight of the loss together.

As I traveled on Saturday, I had all of the typical expectations that accompany a  funeral. But I walked away with so much more than that. When my Mom picked me up from the airport hugging her felt like home, and I think she would agree. She is so strong, a fighter in so many ways. And all I wanted to do for her was be someone who she didn't have to be strong for; to let her just be. I hope I was able to do that.

Before we went over to my aunt's house that night Mom told me I was going to be asked to read a letter I had written to my uncle at his funeral. I didn't know what to say; but she was right. Sure enough that night Aunt Gloria told me how much the letter had meant to her and Uncle Louie, and that it summed up who he was so well--it would mean so much to her if I read it to everyone. I agreed, outwardly excited but in my heart there was hesiation. Its not that I didn't want to share my letter; I just didn't know if I would be able to do it without crying in front of everyone.

The weekend moved so quickly, but it was filled with sweet moments remembering Uncle Louie. I loved getting to hear all of the ways he had impacted so many people. I knew how important he had been to my family, but the privilege of hearing how he had been such a guiding light to my cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends was one I will never forget. He loved with his whole heart and everyone there felt it. And we laughed together, thinking about all of the silly things Uncle Louie used to say and do. (I'm thankful no one brought out the tape of him and me singing "Achy Breaky Heart" from when I was 4.)

 I was also able to make some fun new memories with my little brother. In fact, Chase and I stayed up later than  our parents one night, wrestling and teasing--stealing each others pillows and blankets. I love him so much.

But some of my favorite moments were with my dad. I got to witness the tenderness with which he loves and cares for my mom, as well as ways they look out for each other. He got up every morning to go buy her coffee at a gas station down the street, becasue she doesn't drink it black. And he checked on her, always offering the comfort of his presence. He and Mom showed me all of the places they used to hang out or that meant something to them. I saw the houses they grew up in, the schools they went to. And he took us to see his dad's grave, because I had never seen it and he wanted me to. My dad's job requires him to move around a lot, so for most of my time in high school and all of college he was away. And I forgot how he communicates and expresses things. He isn't a man of many words. And when he does say something its to get a laugh. But over the weekend I was able to see just how much he loves our family, and how proud he is of me without him ever saying it. We stayed up late my first night, with him just asking me about my and Dan's plans for the future, how my job was...asking specific questions about what I do and how I do it, even though he has no interest in church and I work at one. And the picture on the background of his Ipad is from my wedding, of the two of us with Mom. It seems simple, but my time with him was really special.

The funeral was beautiful; I think it honored my uncle well. And I'm glad I got to be a part of it. I did get choked up when I read the letter, but so did everyone else, and it was ok. It was good for us to cry together. I think Uncle Louie would have been proud and that's all any of us wanted.

I also got a phone call over the weekend from my friend, Cameron, in Alaska. Apparently our car had gotten broken into sometime after I left. I couldn't take care of anything from OK, so I asked him to call Dan. I later found out that Cam had filed a police report for us, brought the car to another friend's house, who had offered to keep it in their garage until the window could get fixed, and took care of details with Dan. By Tuesday the window was fixed and Cam had brought it to my boss's house where it can stay safely until Dan and I return from MS. I'm blown away by their kindness. We've only lived in AK for 6 months and we already have friends who have gone above and beyond to take care of us while we're away!

So this past weekend, while filled with bad news, was actually full of blessings! I'll always miss my Uncle Louis, but I'm so thankful for my family, and for my time with them. And I can't begin to express my gratitude and love for my friends in AK. I am truly humbled by the love I've witnessed and experienced this weekend.

The Weight of Being a Writer

I saw Les Miserables tonight for the first time. I've known the music from it and much of the story for a while, but I had never actually seen or read it for myself. Honestly, I don't know how to respond to it in a clear and concise way. Whatever the opposite of an emotional high is...that's what I am feeling. Not a low feeling of despair or sadness. But something deep inside me is riveted. There were so many peices of the story that resonated deeply in my heart. I don't think given a week I could unpack it all...so I apologize for the rambling mess I am typing now, just a few hours later. The only thing I can say with any certainty is that it is truly one of the most heartbreakingly beautiful things I have ever seen.

My husband asked me what I thought as soon as it ended and I couldn't answer. Truthfully I still can't. There are too many things I need to process. I was thankful that we met at the theater after work, so I could have some time alone with my thoughts on the drive home.

I couldn't get past how haunting, and heartbreaking, and timeless it was. Or the state that I was in after seeing it. I was an emotional mess. My heart was full with turmoil, triumph, misery, and unexplainable hope. It still is. And it got me thinking, "If I feel this much weight from a story, how much more must Victor Hugo have felt?" I mean, can you imagine? To say it takes you on an emotional roller coaster would be the understatement of the century. And I am just a viewer/reader! Victor Hugo created, shaped, birthed this incredible story and likely felt tenfold or more what I do right now! That thought is so overwhelming it feels heavy to me.

Why do I say this? Because I was a writer, and authors don't lie when they say the story lives on in their minds. When you create a character and a conflict, you experience with them what they are feeling. You walk with them more intimately than a reader ever can. You feel the weight of their despair, the pull of their perservance. In so many ways their feelings are yours. It's a rush to create and craft, but it is exhausting in a way I can't even begin to articulate.

I just can't imagine the burden Victor Hugo must have felt carrying Les Mis around inside him. It scares me. And I realize now, as I type this, that that is precisely why I stopped writing a few years ago. Because I feel everything deeply. I know that everybody has feelings, and we all have our moments when we don't think we could possibly feel any worse or better than we do right then. But over the past several years, I have learned that I feel things on a deeper level than some of the other people I am around. When I love someone, I love them so much it hurts. When they are hurting, I hurt with them. And when I have lost a loved one I am acutely aware of the emptiness I have that only that person could fill. I just live on a different plane emotionally than some others do. Not to say I don't know  how to deal with those feelings. I do, and I am so thankful for the gift and practice of being emotionally healthy. But knowing how deeply I feel things, and how emotional it is to craft an engaging tale, I have chosen not to open myself up to that.

The last time I wrote a story was for a creative writing class I took my sophmore year of college. After finishing it, exhaustion overcame me. I wanted to sleep for a week. Instead, I got to go to class where every single one of my classmates read it. I have never felt more vulnerable in my life. Like I was turned inside out, with my soul beared for everyone to see. It was even worse than letting somebody read my journal because there were pieces of me sprinkled throughout the pages that hadn't manifested until they were in the story. All of the things I felt with that experience have kept me from writing sense then. Because I am afraid of the places inside me that writing will take me.

I hadn't thought about that until now. And I am actually surprised by this revelation I am having. I don't tend to be a fearful person. I am typically a strong person, who faces conflict or uncomfortable situations head on, even though I am at heart a peace maker. And when I am processing some sort of painful situation I dive right into it rather than running from it. So its no wonder I hadn't realized I was scared until now.

Despite the fact that I haven't written in a few years, I am still a writer at heart. There are still stories always forming in my mind, truths begging to be shared. The ideas keep coming to me and forming no matter what I do or where I am. And I carry with me the weight of the conflicts in each one because they haven't been released yet. I fear the feelings I will experience and the things about myself I will learn whenever  I do start writing again. But I think it is finally time to stop letting fear rule me.

This spring I have a unique oppertunity. My husband will be out of the state for a few months, taking some classes for work. And my job has permitted me to take that time off and go with him. Many people have been asking me if I am excited, and I haven't known how to respond. I am looking forward to being with Dan; he is my best friend and soul mate, so I hate to be away from him for long. But I also hate being bored. I really love to work, and feeling a sense of purpose for what I do each day. Needless to say 2 months of a blank schedule hasn't sounded very appealing. I see now that the open schedule is a gift, an oppertunity to face my fear, and delve into the gift of story-telling God has given me. I'm scared. So scared I am pretty seriously considering not posting this. Because I know if I post it I have to follw through. (Sometimes I hate that responsibility is my top strength.) But I know and trust that when I am uncomfortable, weak, and scared God is still good. And He uses these moments to teach us, mold us, and pull out of us gifts that have been hidden.

He has been tugging at my heart a long time to get me to dive into it. So while I am away this summer I am committing to write at least 4 days a week for at least 30 minutes. Hold me accountable if you want. This is something I need to develop, and I could use all of the help I could get.

Where was God when...

My heart is broken for the people of Newtown CT. And I don’t say that lightly. I mean it. As soon as I found out about it I was overcome by grief. I couldn’t do anything but cry and pray. For their loss is a HUGE one. And I can’t pretend to possibly comprehend that. But I can feel the weight of their questions. “God, how could this happen?” “God, why my baby?” “God, where were you?” And even more than that, I feel the burden of the answers we Christians give, answers that don’t comfort, but answers that make us feel more right. The one that really fires me up is the meme that’s been going all over facebook, and the comments that accompany it:

“Dear God, where were you when this terrible tragedy occurred? Signed, a concerned student.

“Dear Concerned Student, I’m not allowed in schools. Signed, God.”

That is giving the wrong message about God. I know that when passing this around, no one meant any harm. Of course not. But imagine if we were on the other side of that, what if we were the ones hurting and questioning, and that was the answer we got? You know what that would tell me about God? That he is vindictive, and spiteful, that he wasn’t there with my children in the scariest moments in their lives.

That’s the real tragedy. That we have agendas, to try to get God back in schools, or get tighter reins on gun control, etc. That rather than journeying alongside those that are asking questions, we try to give them a quick answer. That we don’t look into their eyes and try to help bear their burdens. That we are misrepresenting God to a people who are hurting deeply. Because the thing is, God was there. God was in the school that day. How could he not be when we know God’s heart is for children? “One day some parents brought their children to Jesus so he could lay his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples scolded the parents for bothering him. But Jesus said to them, ‘Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to those who are like these children.’ And he placed his hands on their heads and he blessed them before he left.” –Matt. 19:13-15 Jesus was a busy guy…he had a lot of ground to cover before his time was up. But he stopped with these little children, even at the urging of his disciples not to. He touched them. He loved them. He was present with them. And I think it is easy for us to miss those moments. We, like the disciples, try to make things easier for Jesus. They were just trying to help after all, so he could get to his next place without interruption. And I could make a case that we are trying to do the same thing—get God back in schools. But we are missing the faces of the people around us. We aren’t really taking a moment to look into their eyes and see their hurt, feel the weight of it in our own hearts. We’re trying to give an easy answer, and the one that is being given can be really damaging.

The bible tells us that God cannot be contained inside a building. He is everywhere, which means he cannot be kept outside of a building either. God was in the school on Dec. 14^th. He mourned, broken hearted, as he held those little ones. And God is angry, livid even, that such evil happened to them. I believe it from the very core of who I am, because time and again, whether I deserved it or not, in my darkest hour God was there, with open arms. And he pulled me close to him and let me just be. He cried with me, whispered words of hope and comfort to me. And he did the same thing with everyone in the elementary school that day. God was there. He touched them. He loved them. He was present with them. And we are missing important moments with the broken hearted who are still here.

I recently heard a sermon about Job, whose friends surrounded him as his darkest moments. But they weren’t helpful at all. They said things like, “Surely, you must have done this.” Or “Can’t you see? God is punishing you because you sinned in that way?” Etc. And despite Job saying, “No, I didn’t. That isn’t true,” they wouldn’t let up. What Job needed during that time was someone to journey with him. To touch him, love him, be present. To just sit with him in the heaviness of the situation, and not try to answer questions for him, but to journey alongside him. May we be those people—People who enter into the messiness of life with our neighbors, and journey alongside them as they wrestle with their deepest, darkest questions. May we be quick to listen, not answer. And when we are tempted to answer, may we remember Jesus, who, for a people that didn’t understand and were full of questions, gave his life in the most humiliating way, in order to bring them on a journey of reconciliation to his Father.