I'm sorry, it has taken me too long. But I hear you.

I remember his screams like it happened yesterday. 

They echoed through the middle school quad and courtyard area and I could hear him crying. They weren’t tears running down his cheek, sad kind of tears. They were loud tears… they were angry tears… they were unheard tears and unknowing tears. And those tears came out in the sounds of the words, “No one ever listens to me.” And he meant no one. No soul on the planet. No family member, friend, teacher, classmate, person in the streets. No one. 

They were the words of a young black man in my 8^th grade class around the age of 15 a few years back. His eyes were heavy. He was tired. And sometimes, he made me tired. But now my eyes are heavy because the realization hits me he was in a broken system. He is in a broken system. He was lying facedown in the middle of the courtyard with handcuffs on his wrists behind his back. 

And I find now that after teaching for 13 years, this is where many of my students have found themselves. These students have varied in culture and background and physical color. Their words are not screams in an open space. The only place they believe they are listened to now is on social media. Facebook posts, tweets, Snapchat stories, and Instagram bios and pictures. Nothing sacred or intimate. All out for the world. All waiting and wanting to be heard. To be known. And to be loved in the listening. In the being of themselves. And of their families. And their culture. And their music. And their livelihood.

And they are part of a broken system. The system is not just an educational system or a governmental system. It is systemic. It is institutionalized. It is a system combining policy and attitudes and history and colonialism and religion and it is a mess. It will not be solved overnight. It is a family system and a poverty system and a system of the schemes of the Enemy.

Hey C- I hear you now. I’m sorry it took so long. But I hear you. 

I’m told I’m a good listener but I realize I’m not always that way. I miss the mark multiple times. The major problem with good listeners is they’re not always great communicators. We stay silent often for fear of hurting feelings or telling the Truth. 

I realize the Truth is both a blessing and a curse. And on some days, it is my gift and on other days, it is my pit. The Truth eats at me. I am a Truth Teller and honestly, no one wants to be that person.

“No one ever listens to me.” It EATS at me. Those words haunt me as I fly silently on a plane and sit quietly in a car and wait patiently in an airport. They become tears on the edge of my eyes. 

They become tears in my mouth. Words that must be spoken. 

Words that become names and stories like the young man I’m telling the story of here. 

You can spout off statistics about cops and the incarceration rates of white men and even white supremacists. I tell you… the percentages of young black (and Latino) men have higher incarceration rates. Whether by pure malice or poor intentions or a faulty system. Regarless, the statistics are there and they cannot be ignored and it is wrong.

I don’t remember what exactly happened to C, the young man in my story at the end. But I know you can’t replace in my mind the repetition of his screams through an empty middle school quad while they were waiting for someone to come and get him. I remember many teachers were relieved. He had come in during the middle of the year and had a script of juvenile detention, suspensions, and "trouble" to begin with. Sought attention. A lot of it. By that point in my career, that was frustrating but pretty normal at the school I was in. This young man was not alone. He was just screaming the echoes of what he knew to be true for friends and family, for his father. For himself. He wanted to be heard, just like many young black male students who have been in my classroom.

And now I see the faces of young men just like him. Young men like Ahmaud. Jogging in the street. Dead over two months ago and just now being heard of. The scariest possibility is I could see a picture of C. It could be his face with his echo that becomes news worthy. It could be him driving a car or running on the sidewalk of his neighborhood-- he would be a little younger than Ahmaud, but in his 20's. 

In line at the airport a while back, I was chatting with a young black mother who expressed quickly a fear of her eldest son driving alone. I’m sure her fear was for multiple reasons that I cannot imagine. I do not know all of the fears she must encompass. And I cannot ever replicate it or completely understand it. I cannot claim to understand any of her experiences or fears but I can begin to listen. And I can speak up on behalf of the statistics I know and the students I love and the stereotypes I wish my children to one day avoid. And the attitudes I wish my children to one day NOT have that I had to fight against and figure out. 

“See the enemy is puffed up; his desires are not uprights—but the righteous person will live his faithfulness.” Habakkuk 2:4

May we listen harder and more than ever before. The next generation is screaming because they feel they have not been heard. Whether or not that is true is completely irrelevant. Whether we listen or not is completely relevant. 

Ahmaud's story deserves to be told. So does C. And if I'm a voice to do it, then I am. 

-Melissa

P.S. There are so many ways I have learned more about this. From friends who have been willing to have conversations to books and narratives I've read to just being introspective and reflective. I've had to examine my own beliefs and my own narrative to see where I fall short and support this systemic bias. I am not perfect by any means-- I have not arrived-- I do not have answers but I can learn and be sensitive. I can be aware and raise awareness. I can be a voice for those who feel they have no voice or those who are tired or angry. We need to talk to our kids about this-- we need to be better. I have to make this recommendation of a children's book- it can help guide the conversations you have with your children about how God had a great idea of creating us to all be different, it was recommended by Jackie Hill Perry (who holds a lot more credibility than I do) but I can 100% agree with her on this recommendation- order it! God's Very Good Idea by Trillia Newbell

May El Roi always keep your eyes...

Dearest Sweet Ellie Grace,

I love this picture of you. This picture of you that Mom (Nonnie to you) took this past Christmas. She found you in the foyer of the church with the Nativity and all the other people were somewhere else, I think on the floor or on a different part of the table. You made your way to be just tall enough to see eye to eye with Jesus. Pure and innocent and a baby. Who would grow to be an adult, pure and innocent, sinless, who would die a horrible death on a cross so that we would know how loved we are by the God above, who is sitting relaxed with His feet propped on Earth. He doesn't miss a thing and He's planned it all out. Yet, He watches and waits for our every move and reply to follow Him.

Tomorrow, you turn 3. How?! How are you already 3? You have grown and changed so much. You made me an auntie. You were so little when you were born, I was scared I would break you. Now, you are running and walking and fearless.

There's a few things we have in common sweet girl. One is that everyone says you look like me when I was little. The greatest joy in my heart to know that there is a precious girl across the country from me who looks like me. Makes me tear up. I love your love for books. There's something about Belle in "Beauty and the Beast" that we both know and love. Her love for books and love stories and curiosity and wonder. Her love of exploration and knowledge and learning. I know you will grow up to be the same. Bossy as an older sister (that's a requirement by the way- :) ). Curious and questioning everything. Putting things where they belong and believing the best about people, even a beast.

The last thing is something evident in this picture that I pray you know and learn about and love too. That's Jesus. At a little under 3, your heart understands something that most adults don't. There's something amazing about Jesus. Something that catches our gaze and slows our breath. Something that makes us excited and hopeful. Something that purifies what we can't and makes right what we see as wrong. A Man who made the last, first and the first, last. A miracle worker and a miracle Himself. A gift. Sweet and simple. Straight for us. 

And I pray that as you get older, He always keeps your gaze. One of my favorite names of God is "El Roi"- the God who sees me. May El Roi always keep your eyes. May He always get the glory from your life and may you always see the amazing thing we find in Jesus Christ. A resurrected Savior who owes us nothing but gave us everything. He's worth looking at. He's worth your heart, mind, and who life. May you always know more than anything what He sees in you--a sweet young lady who's heart is kind and brave, who sees the best in people, who works hard, who's compassion and sensitivity is used as a gift to bring Him honor. 

What a privilege to watch you grow up. What a privilege to be your auntie. And what an honor to point you to Jesus. He is it and that is all.

Love you and happy day of 3! Auntie M

Maybe we should think of what we say more...

I thought of titling this blog, "An Open Letter to President Trump" but I changed my mind. I may change it again by the end of this blog.

I think it's amazing how outraged so many of us are at the moment about those who chose to kneel during the National Anthem in NFL games this past weekend. To prove a point. To peaceably assemble. (Now don't start reading here and get mad.... read the rest too.)

But can you go back with me for a minute? Can we rewind for a second?

Let's go back to President Donald Trump's speech last week in Alabama and pause there...

What about the part where he called NFL players who don't stand for the Anthem a name that I do not allow my students to say in classroom. 

You know...The opposite of daughters followed by the name for female dogs. 

Let's rethink (be honest with yourself)-- who's being disrespectful here? The President of the US just called American citizens a name that is not generally said in a professional or public setting, unless you are watching a TV show that is graded above PG.

It's amazing that when I was looking into this speech, President Trump also said,

"I believe the best path to a more peaceful world are proud, independent and sovereign nations that serve and respect their own people. When you look at what's going on in the world, you have so many where they don't respect their people. But we want nations that cooperate together to create better for all people."

Respect their own people, huh? What about those NFL players who are American citizens, as I previously mentioned? Do they get to be respected or is this just a pick and choose game? That's what I would like to know.

I have been astonished at the lack of respect displayed by the president. And I get that not standing for the National Anthem can seem disrespectful. I also want you to know that in my classroom where we say the Pledge of Allegiance every day, I cannot FORCE a student to say the pledge. Just like an NFL coach cannot FORCE a player to stand for the National Anthem.

But for many of us who love America and who love the things that make us patriotic (flag, anthem, etc.), we also love that we are a democracy and that every one of us is entitled to certain freedoms as Americans. I'm not sure if you remember that thing called the Constitution?

First Amendment guarantees:
-Freedom of speech
-Freedom of assembly
-Freedom of press
-Freedom of religion
-Right to petition

And let's not forget the oath the president takes when he or she becomes president...

“I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States; and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend, the Constitution of the United States.”

Just want to put this out there because Trump just got away with talking in a way that is inappropriate and now people are mad at the NFL.

This is not a choose sides thing. It's a win for all thing. We're all Americans and as so, we treat others with respect and speak with respect when we realize the responsibility and weight of the positions we hold.

It's not us v. them. It's a we and we thing. That's really what America is about. WE all hold each other accountable to treat everyone as we should be treated and demand that the people who represent us in our government do the same.

And to those of you who say, he can say that-- he can say what he wants. So can NFL players. And so can the kids in my classroom and that's getting us literally nowhere. Try again.

This is not a debate... just want us to think things through as we get hot headed, rather than just assuming the worst all the time.

What's that line in the National Anthem again?
"O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave"

Happy Wednesday! Melis

Blur...

The last three and a half(ish) months have felt like a blur. Let me explain...

It was a Wednesday. There was a note and a single red rose on the windshield of my car. I had been a nervous wreck getting ready that morning. I had an observation by someone from a large education company in my 1st period (teacher friends-- you get me) who had helped me plan a lesson the day before. (This is an ongoing process of my school and was not at all singled out to me.) I had been out of the classroom that Tuesday and I was going to be out the following day so I was planning from a sub to a sub and hoping I could teach something that made sense in the middle. I was dressed professionally and walked out to my car with my bags on bags on bags.

And there it was- a bright orange note with my name written on it and a single red rose. I was pretty sure I knew who it was from but was still hesitant until I opened the letter and saw his name.  

Matt.

The name of the sweet man that has pursued my heart over the last three months thoughtfully and totally under Jesus and with grace for both of us. It was a letter saying thank you and a letter that encouraged me. And in the letter, he told me I was beautiful. I asked God specifically for someone who told me I was "beautiful" not just "cute" or "pretty." And He answered that prayer well. And Matt has told me multiple times since. 

And I'm just really grateful for him. And the way he pursues Jesus's heart over mine. And the way he pursues me while following Jesus. 

Rewind again... Three months ago on a Saturday, I went on a dinner date. Our first date. With Matt.

To Lindo Michocan-- one of the best Mexican restaurants in Vegas-- that has a beautiful view of the entire city. He had chosen the seats next to the window and we sat and talked about how we ended up in Vegas, and our families, and our journeys with Jesus. We followed dinner with frozen yogurt and sitting and chatting for quite some time. I went home relieved. And felt something there but wasn't sure what to call it. I had no idea what was coming.

Matt and I had met the Sunday before at Hope (the church we both go to) at an interest meeting for a Tanzania trip and he had called the following Monday. We talked on the phone for an hour, which I realize is not something people do anymore and we both knew that. And definitely not something either of us do with people outside of our families. We planned for dinner Saturday. On Saturday, we went on the date detailed above and it went really well. We saw each other for a few minutes at church on that Sunday, talked on the phone for a couple of hours and then had dinner on Monday.

Basically, the story is we've talked, messaged or seen each other everyday since. 

I have scarcely dated since my freshmen year of college. So this is not just some random blog with a random guy and a few random stories. It is about Matt-- this guy who has sincerely and respectfully pursued my heart and has not allowed me to settle for anything less than what God has asked of me.

He's a complementer and a truth teller but he does not say things for the sake of saying things. He is wise with his words. When we first talked on the phone, he called twice and left me a message on one of them. He opens doors. He brings me flowers every once in a while. He sends me texts while I'm working to let me know he's thinking about me. He is not perfect but is honest and transparent and has said the entire time we've dated he wants to know my heart. And my heart he has totally stolen. 

So I'm a little overwhelmed with it all at times but so grateful I've waited and prayed and begged God to give me a sweet man like Matt. And Jesus has so faithfully answered and given and provided. So my eyes are a little blurry looking at the whole situation but in a good way. In the best way. 

Because Jesus does the best things for us and through us and with us. 

Will share more later-- this blog has taken me a few weeks to just finish! 

Love each of you sweet friends and praying for God's absolute best for you. May we all trust him more and more. 

Melis 

Fake flowers {on anxiety}

We stood outside of Olive Garden. Her sweet head tucked under my chin, like my child. She wasn't letting go and I knew she didn't want to. There are so many ugly and dark things in the world and sometimes when we stand in an embrace or hold someone's hand, we can forget that. Because more things feel right.

Her life took a devastating turn within the last couple of weeks and she replayed all of it for me as we sat over dinner. Some of the first food she has eaten as a full meal since everything happened. I so sympathetized with her broken heart and her depression and her anxiety. 

A couple of months ago, I think I ate less than 5 full meals in a week because I had major anxiety over an upcoming event. I'm pretty sure that my sickness back in December was the result of a 24 hour virus and intense stress of preparation for a trip and how much things were changing. As a matter of fact, the whole fall now feels like a big blur. I considered moving back to the South. I considered changing schools. I considered just quitting a lot of the stuff I was doing because I felt like I was becoming mad. Not mad in an angry way but mad in a crazy, certifiably insane way. And no one wants to feel that out of control. 

But panic and anxiety and depression play out like that. They leave you without control. The very thing you wanted becomes the thing you no longer have. It is so strange and I'm not sure if you haven't dealt with any of it- that it completely makes sense. 

So when she and I walked out of the restaurant and I gave her an "I'm here for you" hug and she held on, I knew I had to do exactly what God wanted me to. Say a prayer. Out loud. With her. Over her broken and aching and anxious heart. And remind her of the same Truths God has filled my heart with. Every time I've felt like I'm falling into a pit or falling apart. 

That He is enough. 

That He knows all of me. The anxious and non-anxious parts. The busy in my head and the busy out of my mouth. 

The what feels crazy and what feels okay is all okay. 

That He's got this. 

That He radically changes things.

She was my student in 8th grade several years ago and when she messaged me the other day, I knew that something wasn't right but I know it can be. Because God changes things. In all the best ways. 

When she walked in, she handed me a bag of a random assortment of items. One of those items were fake flowers so I would keep them on my desk and see them and remember how much I impacted her but I think God had a different notion. That when I see those flowers, I will stop and sympathize with my anxious ones. With my sweet heartbroken ones who need gut wrenching prayers. With my young ones who just smile and nod but seem really insecure. Because she was all those things once. And she was in my classroom each day. And it will be a reminder to pray for her too. 

And a reminder for my anxious days as well. That He's in control and He's got this and I can trust Him. And I can go to sleep with a trusting heart knowing that. 

So get some fake flowers and place them next to the place you see the most as a reminder that we all need to be loved so well. And that we are all loved so well by the King of Kings. And I can go to bed with an incredibly grateful heart over that too. -Melis

The beauty of a family.

I was on a turbulent plane. Feeling a little bit nauseous. Any time I'm physically sick or just exhausted or hungry (of all I am now), the enemy feeds a bunch of ugly lies. So I was sitting there asking God to show me the good in all my mess. And holding back tears. (Because I was on a plane, and who wants to sit next to a crying baby OR a crying 30-something 😳😁.) 

I give myself a hard time a lot about the right and wrong words I've said to kids. Kids that I realize I have for a short amount of time. Kids who call me because they don't know what to do. Kids who call me because they need advice. Most of them aren't kids in the term of age but they're my kids. I told someone a few weeks ago that my school is like my home and those kids are mine. I don't just let anyone take care of the kids in my house and I mean it still. 

I beg God in certain time periods for mentors for so many of them because I feel so incredibly inadequate and out of place and unworthy. And for reasons, only known to Him, He keeps sending them to me. On Monday, I knew that even writing this would bring an awareness one of them would probably talk to me about something in which they need immediate advice or wisdom and I needed to be mindful of the words only God gives. Because it is Him. And boy, did I ever need that prayer this week. Because one became so many. 

I would never do this. I'm too selfish with my time and friends and family. I want those things and people for myself. 

God quickly reminded me of one of the sweetest families I've ever met from my first year at Global. Their son was in my class and they had invited a whole group of us to dinner with them. Because that's what family does. You eat together and share stories and clean up. I attended his graduation and sat in between his dad and brother. It was like I was part of their family. Still called his sister and I consider that a huge compliment and honor.

My mom asks about Chandler all the time. My sister talks about Chandler like they've spent significant time together over a period of time but that's not the case. I just tell Chandler stories a lot and those become like my family stories. 

The hardest part of living in Vegas is being without a "family." But I have so many adopted family members. (Besides the ones already mentioned.) Teri and Tommy who have taken me to dinner and had me over multiple times. Shannon and Todd who ask me to be part of their family for dinner and time out and shows and TIME. Kristi and Steve who are strong mentors and also willing to do things like pick me up at their airport at midnight with no complaints and only love. James and Maly and Tom and Crystal make me feel welcome as a servant at church. My boss makes my kids and I like family. And a lot of the time (even on bad days) my kids feel like mine. 

I got to spend a lot of time with my family last weekend in Georgia and I loved playing with my niece, chatting with my parents over dinner, seeing my sister and brother-in-law as a part of their worship team at church and talking to my cousin about all that is going on in her life at the moment.

All of that to say, there is so much beauty in family. And there are so many people looking for that same community and dinner table and people to pick them up from the airport.

While there are also a large amount of kids WAITING for that same dinner table, the same community and a person to travel with because maybe they've never been anywhere out of the city they're in. 

I ask and beg you to find someone who needs community and family and BE. 

Just simply BE.

I'm ready to keep doing that. -Melis

"You have won my heart more than any other..." {to my sweet single20-something girls}

Dear sweet single 20-something year old girl,

I sat with one of your friends today. And several of your other friends this past weekend. We talked about a lot of things.

Today, your most honest friend was the realest. Per the usual. We talked about this season and time of year and this season of life. And the difficulties and pain you feel. Oh the difficulties and pain that silence and isolate you to the very core. 

If I could take a moment of that hurt from you, I would willingly take it as my own, even if it means I suffer through the tears of all things and the physical agony of others and the mean things people say without realizing the MEANing of it all. They never meant for you to replay those terrible things through your head over and over and over.

Those words weren't meant to feed lies that make you think you're not good enough, over the top, too much, too skinny or fat, too right or wrong, too willing to share, too closed off. They meant none of those things... yet, those words echo through you like someone yelling your name in the Grand Canyon. And on behalf of the person who said it to you, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the dreams you've had of it, the tears welling up in your eyes at this very moment, the sleepless nights you've had this week. I. AM. SO. SORRY. 

It is the season of love and if you're not in a relationship, you are wondering how you can tie up the person/group of people who invented this lovestruck mess of a day and tell them everything you're thinking so that someone will hear your hurting. (#Hashtag: When you find them, I will help. You're welcome in advance.)

I was 21 once. (10 years ago, but whatever.) And I knew how BADLY I wanted to be married. Now I'm 31 and I still haven't given up that fight. I want to be married. But I don't just want to be married. I want to be married to a man who knows my name and encourages me. Who loves Jesus more than me.

I want that for you too. 

So this can be the worst. The freaking worst season of your life. Or you can partially give up and have a bad attitude about it like me and just keep living :) (That is not all completely true-mostly dramatic.)

I'm not lying when I say this comes straight from a letter I
wrote to my future husband. :) 

I get butterflies when a guy (who loves Jesus might I add!) that I find attractive looks at me in just the right way but it also terrifies me because what if he knows everything? I still want you to have butterflies. But I want that right guy looking at you in the right way. And I want him to know what he wants. I don't want him to look at you and your three friends in the same way or say the same things that are a bunch of crap lies to you and your three friends. And I don't want him to say a bunch of stupid things that make you feel a certain way so he can get what he wants out of it. I want him to love Jesus more than you. I want him to encourage you and to KNOW you. To know the beauty of your broken heart and desire Jesus to place it all back together WITHOUT him (the hot Jesus-loving boy).

We can't fix broken hearts sweet one. But we KNOW the One who can. I listened to a song today called, "Be Still" by Bethel Music and my favorite lines are below...

"Be still my heart and know
You are God alone.
Stop thinking so much and just let go...

In my weakness, your strength is perfect.

You, alone, are God. There will be no other. 
You have won my heart. More than any other. 
So I will give it all. Cause you gave it all for me."

Spend this season begging God for a man who loves Him more than you and for His Kingdom more than a man. (Yeah, I totally stole that from my conversation with the realest today). He will come when God so chooses. There is no magic formula or correct prayer or one-stop-shop on this. There's just not. So don't ask for it. It won't be the same as your favorite couple and it won't be in the timing you think.

In this season (whether it lasts for 12 years #me OR 12 days), ask God to show you who YOU are and what He wants from you. Erase the hurt through the blood of Jesus and follow steadfastly in His footsteps. Kneel at His altar and strengthen your hands in praise. And do those things, even into a season of a relationship and a time of marriage.

But if that time doesn't come now or ever, you are in a position to love the Gospel of Jesus Christ and plead His blood over all. And His Kingdom is about that. It's about His things. His Son. His blood. His cross. It was never about marriage or us or love songs or holidays. It was Him. It was always, always Him. And marriage is a beautiful picture of the way He loves us. Hence, we are the bride of Christ. A beautiful, stunning, flawless, and complete Bride. 

And if you want to talk, and feel like your life is the only life on the entire planet falling apart, that's totally okay. And I get it. Now, call me... I've got your back. But I think you've got it too ;)

Love you, Melis