Honey From The Rock

Hi all you Internet friends.  I have been thinking a lot about age: being young and being old. I feel old when I shop for Spanx (yes, that did happen), when I rent storage units, when I buy coffee at Shell stations so I can do fourteen-hour roadtrips, when I go to bed at ten-thirty, when I know what pro-rated rent is, when I can book plane tickets without a hitch. I feel young when I use the handle of a large cast iron skillet to pry open the hood of my car at the said Shell station, when I wear beaded moccasins without socks, when I listen to my grandpa's stories and realize most of his life happened before I was born,  when my bare face sunburns and I don't wash my hair for three days. Age is a funny thing; it is relative and it is existential and it is beyond me. I feel that I will always be young, that I am somehow innately youthful, that muscles will last, that hair won't thin, that my stories won't grow cold. But then I think about my grandparents; I will on...

Cranky dripping Monday, Sitting in the back and wishing I could sleep. Getting in their faces because they can't either. It's too much, all this dripping.  Better is a rooftop than a castle with a cranky woman;  Better anywhere than a classroom of discontents. Nothing is blessing; it's all pushing.  Labor and pain and pushing. The night endures forever and  Where the heck is the morning? Attitude. She got an attitude already, Says fifth period. And I smile, To prove them wrong And to warn them with a sassy smirk of attitude.  If I can hold out two, even three, hours; This too shall pass. But tomorrow is Tuesday  And I hate Tuesdays.

I dreamed last night that I was teaching, and it reminded me of my car dreams. In my car dreams, I always am driving really fast; really, really fast and it's beautiful until I see a red light. I know I need to stop, but I can't. The brakes don't work and my feet are reluctant to stop the full throttle of the humming engine. I end up using both feet to push in the brake pedal, as if my feet are the physical brake pads grinding the tires to a halt. I sometimes stop but often don't and fly through the intersection barely missing another careening car. My teaching dream last night felt like this. There was no control. My students were in their seats, except for one boy so I yelled at him, freaked out and knocked over a desk. I grabbed it with clumsy hands when I realized that I had been the one who knocked it over. The kids laughed and another student stood up and another and another, and the class disintegrated. I'm not sure what it reveals but I feel that it is sig...

Today was a day of Bob Dylan and coffee. I sat on my bed a lot and did a variety of things, none of which were rushed. I spent a long time before noon reading and praying with the blinds open and a cup of coffee. After lunch, I worked, made brussel sprouts, and drank another cup of coffee. The difference between a snow day and a Saturday is that a day like this is a bonus. You don't have to get everything done, whatever you do is just extra. And the feeling of getting ahead is, well, heady. And the extra rest feels like a blessing from heaven (which it is). And between the coffee and Bob Dylan you have a little time to process life, catch up on the flying whirlwind of it all. For me, I had to process The Fight. It was, by no means, a good fight or a dramatic fight or an intense fight. But it was the first in my classroom, and it shook me up. It lasted probably only 30 seconds or a minute and it was more of a butt whipping than a fight really. B had the upper hand, meaning the poo...

I forgot the Superbowl was tonight until the pastor this morning in church made a joke about it. oops. well I probably wasn't going to make plans anyway. Most of my friends go to church instead of Super Bowl parties and then just rush home to watch the game while shoving their faces full of nachos. And I'm not going to church tonight. Instead my windows are open, in JANUARY!, and I'm icing my foot. I always feel two things about physical injuries: 1) they are dumb and 2) I am dumb for letting them happen. The whole freakin thing is dumb. This injury is exceptionally dumb, no rhyme or reason to it; I jumped off the bed, landed funny, and bruised the top of my foot. The top; not the side or the ankle or the normal foot places you injure. I bruised the TOP. It might be fractured, but I kind of don't think so and I always go through a period of denial with my physical injuries (If I just pray over it and don't tell anyone, it'll go away. That spider bite is probab...

Here's the thing. Snow days in middle Georgia can't top the snow days of Millersburg, Michigan as a child. Harsh reality. But the last three days have been really nice, not gonna lie, Internet, I've loved it. Snow days in northern Michigan were the closest thing to heaven in the winter. First thing, my dad would be rarin' to go (what is rarin'? anyone else have a grandpa who uses words you've never seen in a book?), and he'd hustle us out of bed and into layers of snow gear. (Whenever I smell wet wool, I think of those mornings.) Living in the middle of nowhere meant my family had the pick of whatever solitary hike we felt like. When we lived on Lake Nettie, we'd hike up into the steep hills over looking the east side of the lake. We'd drag along a sled and the steep hill leading down to the lake was perfect for sledding. It would usually be snowing and the huge flakes would drift down around us and no matter how much noise the three children a...

soup is simmering and today was a snow day in Macon, Ga, meaning there wasn't any snow or ice here in the sunny south, it was just cold. But a lovely day with no complaints and counting blessings. Thank You LORD God of strength, for southern snow days of sunshine and cool air, for time in my quiet classroom to prepare for my loud crazy children coming tomorrow, for spicy chicken chili and green green avocados, for evenings of freedom because I've worked all day. Also, thinking of dying my hair red, just a nice soft tint. hmmm?

I am drinking coffee again. It's decaf but it's the good stuff, the organic-whole-bean-fresh-brewed drug of choice for this girl. And I'm in a coffee shop, typing again. There was a time, a season where I was gone. I was in Seattle, then several beautiful but hard weeks of camp where I felt like I was stepping into a good, more mature version of myself, then packing with the family in Macon, and a two-day roadtrip where all of our earthly possesions were loaded into vehicles and driven to Northern Michigan. I was home for less than a week, living with parents who were living with grandparents. Then I loaded my essentials into my Oldsmobile and drove south, alone this time and I didn't stop. Twelve hours of driving and limited breaks at Shell gas stations until I hit Chattanooga, Tennessee, with an interview outfit and a car of clothes, a few books, some fine china, and a pillow. I stayed with a good friend in the country and over that week, I interviewed at five schools...

After months and months gone, I am back at the blog. I'm not sure how long I'll stay but I want to try to keep it up. So much has happened in the past three seasons of summer, fall, and winter, I'll just quickly make a list to fill you in. Graduated Covenant College and left Chattanooga, TN Flew to Seattle to visit my sister-in-law. Loved Washington.  Worked at Camp Grace again and grew so much there. Then moved with my family to Millersburg, MI where I only stayed four days and then... Packed up my car and drove to Chattanooga to try and find a job. Nothing. And then to Atlanta to see a friend and then a phone call from Macon, GA that led to a series of events that landed me a job teaching high school English at Central High School in Macon, GA. So I've been teaching for this past semester and it's been crazy. One hundred and eighty students. Three preps. Inner city kids. My biggest question as I...

My bank account dwindles and my bucket list grows. I am graduated without a job. To do 1. Ride a roller coaster 2. Drive a train 3. Go to a music festival 4. Open a breakfast place 5. Publish an essay 6. Live on an island 7. Own a kayak 8. Drive a car from the East coast to the West and stop whenever I want 9. Throw pottery 10. Brew beer

So lately life's been a little uncertain, a little rocky, a little too much self-pity. Well today it's sunny after storming all weekend and we had a party last night with pancakes and candles and friends. It was bittersweet because it was a goodbye party as we're almost all seniors graduating in six days (holy freakin toledo). And today is for thankfulness. I am grateful to my good Lord Jesus for being almost finished with grading essays and student teaching,  for the phsyical-felt sunshine that somehow brings invisible hope, for roommates who laugh a lot, for the good friends who are in this season and also in the next, for forgiveness and the power of the Spirit,  for the faithfulness of my Lord who has not left me an orphan. Amen. My Lord is faithful; praise the Lord.

Life recently has been bits of surreal strung together by moments of clarity with sudden falls into overwhelming panic that then recede into uneasy oblivion. The sunshine helps to blend the surreal with the oblivion and a good enough dose of clarity that I feel okay. The to do list grows and grows and all that my heart really desires is to do art. I want to write. I want to create something. I think my other life, the one that I visualize after college, will need some activity that is complete construction. Pottery or wood working or something gritty that I need my hands and my focus. And I will also need to write. I am realizing how non-negotiable that area is. Writing can't go.

I have the most awesome family. Today Ezekiel Jubal Freel is getting on a plane headed for Europe where he will visit like seven countries and live out of a big orange backpack. Isaac Sean Freel is in Afghanistan as we speak, giving orders and being the world's best boss. Colin Paul Freel is trucking today and thank the good Lord, coming through Chattanooga, TN, for dinner. And Esther Freel is praying, as always, anchoring us and keeping us sane (and going to start a blueberry and raspberry farm this summer). My family is crazy, abnormal, and wonderful.

I'm sure I've probably posted this before, but here it is again. It's good. And when I say good, I mean good as in speaking of hard grace, hard-won forgiveness.

This week has been all work and newness and first days. I hate first days. I don't sleep well the night before and my shoulders stay in knots and I can't relax to save my life. I've gotten better at faking how much I hate first days but I realize its really just cramming this introvert body into the expectations of an extrovert. I like people and I even like meeting them, but it wears me out to do it all day in a new place. And I'm okay with that reality. I wish I was an extrovert, but I'm not. It's like tomatoes. I wish I liked them, could wander out to the garden and pluck a sun-warmed fresh tomato off the vine like every other person in my family, but I can't. I hate tomatoes. I'm on my second cup of coffee and I've taken it slow because I'm doing it solo this morning. Roommates scattered and friends are all on spring break (I'm seriously really jealous.) But along with all this coffee, I've been reading my Bible and examining some s...

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday. And today is my first attempt at Lent, ever. I thought about what to do for this season (because I firmly believe that there is a season for everything and knowing what is fitting is close to wisdom). If Lent is about learning discipline, about training towards godliness, seeing grace and dwelling in mercy as our physicality falls shorts, as we see our own humanity, our mortality, then perhaps I must work towards something that I consistently fall very far short in. Prayer. I don't pray well. I think a lot. but prayer? what exactly does that look, sound, feel like? So here's my Lent-ing. My giving up in order to take in. How I will fast and pray. It's simple. I will not eat sweets and I will pray. I will give up sugar and sugary things because I want to remind myself of what I need compared to what I only want. I need food right now but I need real food. Protein and fiber and carbs and vitamins and minerals. I want only what I need. I also n...

Q.  What is your only comfort in life and in death? A.  That I am not my own, but belong— body and soul, in life and in death— to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ. He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood, and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil. He also watches over me in such a way that not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Father in heaven; in fact, all things must work together for my salvation. Because I belong to him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit, assures me of eternal life and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.

Tonight is for Beyonce, and forgetting in dancing. To cha cha in public, to rap the little bits of Jay-z floating in your head. To think of making your middle schoolers proud as you blare Beyonce and Usher and laughing knowing their reactions at the Jbeib's mixed in there. In the words of the growing legend, Kid President, make the world a better place by dancing. And tonight I'm tired of the heavy, the serious, somber. Now is a time for freedom. Part of the industrial revolution and the cultural changes leading up to it was the growing use cotton for clothing. Social freedom grew as people began to wear cotton underwear - they could feel the fresh air over their skin and it was liberating. Today was warm, the smell of mud and warmth. Liberating. That's how Beyonce and Bieber make me feel- like wearing cotton underwear after hundreds of centuries without it. It's time to dance. dance like Beyonce in your underwear.

I am weary of being here. And I know that I am actually saying I am weary of my sin and of my life being hard and getting up early in the morning. But there are moments, and sometimes days, when I crave something different. Slower and fuller. Maybe idealized perfect. But still, not this crazy chaotic immobilizing apathetic strange place. I want pine trees and hardwoods. I want snow. I want a little more time to read and to sleep. I want to bake. I want to write. I want to go for walks in the evenings and the mornings. I want to know when the sunsets are beautiful and I want to hear birds crying and calling and singing. I want to be on a lake and I want to smell the mud. I want to be home. The echoes of home here are good coffee. Laughing roommates. This big blue soft blanket. The window, poorly insulated and letting in drafts of coldcold air, by my bed that lets me see the fog weaving through wet tree trunks. The Old Testament prophets speaking hard condemnation and sweet salva...

Gratefulness leads to thankfulness that burgeons into praise. Father God, Thank you, for cookie dough. for tea. for roommates when we scream out laughter until the tears come. for learning hardhardhard things even though I don't actually want to. for Your love that never fails, never gives up, never runs out on me. You are always enough. To embrace this means not to give up hope, it means to hold on. Amen. My Lord is faithful. Praise the Lord.