Why every kid in the world needs a loving parent

Over this past week, there is a slight, small spark that has exploded in me. It was there before but it seems to keep burning a little brighter and a little bigger and a little warmer. I sat in a Holocaust Conference last week with seven 8th grade students who were excited. They were hearing an author speak and two Holocaust survivors share. So much change for their sweet, mostly innocent minds. I love watching their eyes when important people are in front of them. There's a light there. It's sad we don't often foster those lights, we tell them to shut them off. I can't anymore. I just can't. Not for most of these kids... because as the year progresses, their lights turn electricity on in large rooms and makes a conversation with a friend a little more enjoyable and makes a classroom discussion interesting. What turns them off? I began to talk to them about going to Washington, DC. That city burns a flame in me because of it's rich history and my experiences there.... cue background story :) You're welcome. 

(This is told as I remember it... it's probably biased and not completely accurate.) When I entered middle school, I was not a popular kid. I was more of a popular mess. I was smart but not smart enough. In 2nd grade, I had a teacher I will never forget. She told me she thought I could read on a 5th grade reading level. Thus, I am a reader, a loving- throw your whole life and escape into a reality that probably doesn't exist reader. Seriously. BUT I had apparently been a reader before. My parents bought my sister and I TONS of books. We had a very large book shelf in the playroom and it was full of books... books that taught us character traits, Winnie- the- Pooh, small insects with funny names, Berenstein Bears, encyclopedias, etc.. They were ours to devour. And devour I did... I pulled them all off the shelf and reorganized (thus developing a slight case of OCD as well :) ). I read, I taught my sister (or more bossed her around), and took roll call with our invisible class and whoever was at our house. We played our hearts out. We read, we taught, and we learned. Most of the time, I was the teacher, because again, I was bossy. There it is. Confessed. 

Just imagine though... imagine that I was more of a Matilda character with a love for reading who had no books! Sounds devastating and horrible to me at the moment. While my teacher encouraged my enthusiasm for reading, I really have to credit my parents with a love for reading. They bought books. They read to and with me and Trista. We read Winnie-the-Pooh and the Pebble Hunt so much with my dad that the book just fell apart over time. We were able to imagine and build things and create things because we had the ability to read and we had something to read. Fast-forward to middle school. At the beginning of the year, all 6th grade students took a math test. Turns out that the two highest scoring students (myself and another boy) were not in the Gifted program and had both been turned down previously due to test scores. (We'll show you Gifted and Talented programs!!!) Needless to say, we were both in Gifted classes shortly after. Our classes were pull out classes that served as additions to our regular classes. Now fast forward to me as a 7th and 8th grade student (still an awkward middle schooler)... I went on a trip out of the city/drive-thru of little Cave Spring and even the vast metropolis of Rome (okay, that was over the top) to travel all around Georgia with 2 bus loads of middle school students AND I went to DC on a bus trip with my gifted program. I do not remember my parents  ever mentioning costs. My sister and I went on tons of trips in middle school and high school and I don't ever remember my parents saying anything. We did lots of chorus stuff and cheerleading and church stuff... we weren't cheap kids by any means. (Sorry Mom and Dad!) I'm sure they did talk about it but we had no clue. We went and I'm sure we begged for spending money, early allowances, and extra money from the grandparents. (I've blocked that out of my memory apparently.) My parents sent us and were nervous but saw every trip and group and everything as a new opportunity. They also used these types of things to teach us the importance of sticking to our word, following through, and commitment. Thank you again loving parents! 

When I see the light in my students' eyes at school, I often see a flicker. It goes in and out... depending on the day. They have a million things going through their brain. Like every middle schooler on the planet, I felt I was a victim to the earth and therefore had the weight of the world on my shoulders, when in all reality, it was pretty easy. Although it may have stretched our family, I didn't really know. I just knew what I wanted (bratty middle schoolers). And this leads me to my final point... I had loving parents. I had a mom and dad who worked their butts off to have Christmas, to give us huge sleep overs for our birthdays, to let us go on trips, to buy me a name brand pair of jeans, to get a new dress for homecoming and Prom, and I could go on and on for at least 25 blogs of just things they gave us or helped us with or lessons I learned from them (and continue to learn). It was never that my parents did those things or bought those things for us because they were earning our love... they did it out of love, even if it meant they had to sacrifice something else they may have wanted. Love was the motivator. Sometimes my kids at school have flickering unloved eyes and it makes me so heartbroken for them. I want them to experience life to the fullest, without a care, like I was able to. My exposure to the US and the world goes back to the love my parents had to let me go and become independent as an early, awkward teenager. 

I urge you to ignite flames in the next generation, as a parent, a small group leader, a teacher, a pastor, a mentor, or just a human being. Stop turning the lights off. Turn the light on and don't leave them... what experiences do they need to grow and know how to love? We have lots at Mack and I'm thrilled to be a part of it... pray for on-switches and no wet matches. Love you. -Melissa

AND Mom and Daddy-- I literally could not thank you enough for not letting my light flicker for long. Thank you for being a spark that left the light on. Thank you for making it brighter by helping pay for college and being my biggest fans... and thank you for still encouraging my dreams. I will stand behind the fact that I want to send some of my school kids home to stay with you. Love you both lots and lots. 

Astounded by Mercy and Love

I got the sweet privilege of going out to Boulder City this morning for church. I love the small town atmosphere, so quaint and personable. And honestly, because it's not the small town I'm from, it just feels different. I had originally gone out to meet a friend for lunch and to talk about our venture from a book we've both been reading, Seven by Jen Hatmaker. The idea and concept of Seven is to give up consumerism, to stop buying into the lie of the American dream of "stuff." I love the idea of this but don't necessarily love thinking about carrying it out. In the service, the first words of the first song were "We have all we need in You." I looked at Pam and said "Oh great." It literally could not have been more perfect. It's true. I have too much stuff and I don't need it. My apartment is a disaster as I write this but it's a disaster because God's wrecking the consumerism part of me. I decided to take up the venture of recycling. It's inconvenience in this city is just something beyond me and I find myself just giving it up. I have a bag of clothes and DVD's begging to at least be taken to my garage for Heaven's sake and another bag in the process of being cleaned up and tied up and taken out. Let me be clear: I HAVE TOO MUCH. So I'm processing what it looks like to clean it up and out.

With that being said, I do the same thing in my journey with Jesus. I have filled my Christian life up with so much stuff. Neal talked about it this morning... our need for works over just straight up loving Jesus. Why do I feel I need to perform to earn Jesus? Why do I need to have stuff to please people? These are the questions I'm battling people and they're a bit over my head at the moment.

It's in these moments that if I step back and let God speak to me, He breathes deep life in and I get to exhale every one of my anxieties and suppressed emotions. I just get to be me. And He just loves me. He loves me past my stuff and past my works. He doesn't need or want either of those things. He simply wants me. If I could breathe that more often than the American dream, I would be in a better place.

He is still restoring me. I keep thinking that maybe one day I'll have to change the title of my blog, but I'm not so sure because I keep finding that He restores my brokenness with His love and faithfulness to me. Another song from this morning...

"Lord, we stand amazed in your presence.
Astounded by Your mercy and love.
Our hands are lifted high in surrender.
Your grace for me is always enough.

There is no one higher than our God."

Thank you Jesus... you fill in the places of my unfulfilled dreams and desires with your mercy and love and you're recovering my addiction to stuff with your grace. I am grateful. -Melis

Marital status: Highest tax paying bracket

I sat here thinking about recent posts, why I should do my homework, why the mean girls stay until the end of bachelor (until now-- thank you Sean!!), why I'm in a bad mood the afternoon on the day before an event and why every year, I want to validly boycott Valentine's Day. Why I want to wear all black to school tomorrow. Why my kids will give me candy I will never eat. Why I would like to go to Olive Garden for dinner, possibly alone.

The real question you're all asking... Mentally or you've verbally asked before.... "Why are you still single? Are you ever going to get married? Why do you have such high standards?" I usually walk away from these conversations with the satisfaction I have done one of two things: given you an extremely sarcastic answer OR looked at you like you were insane. When I'm walking away, there are always tears. Guaranteed. Maybe not that second but at some point, yes. So even though, I've probably been inhumanly rude, I am deeply hurt.

I am at my best to believe and trust God knows what's best for me. With that being said, that's why I'm single. God is not finished with my singleness. I don't buy into the "Run away into the world and live your single life for Jesus!" Even though I know it appears in retrospect that's exactly what I've done. I also don't buy into the "You're 28 and don't have much time left." On who's time table are we working here?? I do choose to live my life keenly aware of glorifying God (although hot mess may be a more accurate description). I will do that single or in a relationship. I can trust God now, while being single, or at some point, in a relationship. God knows what's best for me now and He will then. He hasn't lost sight of His love for me, and He will not.

So please. Instead of asking me (or any other single friends either) why we're single...Why don't you NOT tell us why we're single? We've already thought through every reason in the universe... And don't need another one to think or dwell on. Why don't you ask us what we are praying for? Why don't you just pray for us? Why don't you assure us that God is surely in the works of something that fulfills our hearts' desires beyond our wildest dreams? We know we're single... But help clarify our vision for Him and our hope in Him.

We need people who assure us of Gods best for us. We don't need people who lead us to be confused and doubt what God is doing in us.

A man who can sing and love Jesus is coming for me. There will be pictures. I will be wearing a white dress that will be stunning and he will be hot so prepare yourselves. We will probably laugh at our wedding, a lot, so don't assume we're being rude or offensive. I will be feisty, and he will be patient, and opposite. FYI: It will probably be his fault I'm feisty.

That's what you can pray for. God's best for me. That's why I'm single. I'm waiting for God's best for me. -Melis

My kids' dreams, part 1

I'm reading "I Have A Dream" speeches from my kids. I've literally just started and only read one class and it is amazing the crazy things some of them have been through...

Their trials include divorce, death of grandparents, being placed in foster homes, competition between siblings, being judged because of what they wear, long-term sick family members and having family literally go missing in a home country in eastern Africa.

Their dreams include everything from gun laws, stopping gangs, helping homeless people, being the first one in their families to graduate College, to play for the NBA, for racism to end, classroom sizes to be smaller, and much, much more.

The point is they've been through stuff. The other point is they do dream. It's just whether as they get older do they dream anymore. Most of the time that answer is no. Dreams become small because reality and its complications become too big. We let our realities stifle our dreams and then our kids and the next generation follows that. How can we change that? The other thing I love about these speeches is the personality... So while this may be a bit crazy, slightly over dramatic, I wouldn't want you to miss it. The end of their speeches were to describe what a day would look like of all of their dreams came true. One students answer:

"Change happens to make our goals come true and people will be safe and educated. When everyone likes everyone and there will be less hardships. Everyone will smile and laugh together while rolling around in flowers co-existing with animals, like tigers and bears with no fear of being mangled."

I mean, at least the kid can laugh, and dream. I mean walking with wild animals has happened before right??

To dreaming!! -Melissa

A change of heart

Over the last month, I have constantly contemplated applying for a job in Washington, DC at the Department of Education. The urging of several friends and co-workers encouraged this application process and I felt it was a good transfer over. I'm still in education, my Masters degree would be put on hold, only making me one credit short, and I would get to move closer to my family. I mentioned it to my boss- she saw it as an opportunity. That was a relief.

The dread was completely starting over. The dread was packing my stuff and packing stuff and moving stuff to a place that would only be temporary. A one year position in a new place with a guarantee to send me back to Las Vegas at the end of it. That was a semi-relief but just meant packing and moving all over again. I've put off answering the essay questions that are part of the application because I just couldn't bring myself to sit down and finish it. I started them and started them well. I quickly began to doubt whether I was even qualified for the job. I just left the Word document opened on the screen, staring at it from time to time.

Friday when I left school, I felt so uneasy. I didn't get to talk to my boss about a letter of reference face to face and I just felt upside down about it. One of the reasons is because Friday during my 7th period I finally had another breakthrough moment with my students. It's that time of year when I pull out the I Have A Dream speeches to write after reading my very own to my students (I posted it a couple of years ago if you want to take a look). Mine is full of personal history and present hopes, of grace and love and peace. I want their dreams to mimic that in some way. I read my speech in my 5th and 6th period. My 6th period was stunned (I hope at least) and my 5th period clapped like the president of the USA just gave them some personal words. (I apparently have now gone from aunt to mom in that class? I don't know how that happened?) My 7th period class is not usually my biggest struggle, however they are sometimes my biggest wear- they are just tiring. They have lots of baggage and lots of heavy pasts. I was shocked they listened. As I read my speech, they were completely silent. They seemed to be listening to each word, maybe hoping they could bring it up later or mock me for it and I think they were surprised when at the end of it, Carlos's eyes, whose eyes are glued on me at this point, begins applauding like I've given the speech of a lifetime. The rest of the class joined him and when my eyes met his quickly at the end, I was more than shocked that he was the one paying the most attention. He set straight to writing away and I watched as the rest of the boys intently followed his example.. They shared their hopes and dreams, their fears, their pasts. It takes guts to do that. As I watched these kids drop their walls and bury themselves in dreams, I felt a still small voice speak clearly-- "I'm not done with you and these kids. They're hard but I'm not finished with you here. They're getting it. Give them grace. Give them a chance." Tears welled up in my eyes, as I really saw each one of them through His lens. It looks very different from mine. I close my eyes when I'm tired and weary of these kids. He looks past the burden and loves. I haven't done that very much this year and they are maybe the most desperate for it out of any group of students I've ever worked with.

Tonight as the pastor was finishing his sermon, he asked us to sit and just pray and let God speak to us. God again spoke clearly, "I'm not done with you in the classroom. They need to be loved." Needless to say, that job in DC quickly lost its appeal. There are other options that coincide with my work in the classroom and I'm praying as to the next direction.

Who needs to be loved where you are? Who needs to hear your history and hopes? I'm giving them a chance. Praying you would do the same. -Melis

If it's You.

What a day. What a day. Says every person who works with another human being at some point. They cause us to have crazy days, don't they?

The best part about them though is that they make for great stories. So grateful that I got to talk sweet Taylor's ear off tonight at dinner for a bit with story after story of these human beings. Before we ate, we were talking about what I'm planning to do next year as far as school and jobs are concerned. I'm thinking of a few different options and still so undecided that its crazy. When our food got to the table, Taylor prayed. She prayed a prayer that many of us have heard a million times and probably even said ourselves, "If this is your will, then you will do it." So easy to say and not always easy to do for me. I'm stubborn, my friends have used the word "relentless" to describe me and I do not at all doubt they are telling the truth.

"If this is your will..."

"If its you..." What a difference it would make every day if I approached each moment with Taylor's words-- "if its your will Jesus..." I'll do it, I'm there, I'll say it... "If its you." And if its not Him, then there should be sounds and alarms going off every which way reminding us of the road we are about to blaze which is just not meant to be.

I want to approach tomorrow with "If its you" and if its not, then I want to change my perspective, attitude, approach and emotions until it is Him. That's it.

Join me! -Melis

Chaos and Bliss

Lets talk about today.

Waking up to an alarm clock is awful. Especially when over two weeks vacation, I literally forgot how awful an alarm sounds.

After getting ready, I decided that I would go to Starbucks. Thank you for having 12 drinks over the last month, because today I got a free venti chai. Pure bliss.

Once I got to school, I hid myself in my room until I knew I had to come out. I walked into the blanket of cuss words, hormones and chaos. Oh chaos-- how I have not missed you.

I was ready for my accelerated class-- those who understand sarcasm, pretend I abuse them, and so on. Basically, they're smart enough to be dramatic on a different level. All was well. My other classes were fine. It was just the wah-wah of whining and apathy and staring at those who look like they're mentally asleep, physically awake. I don't miss that. I'm over that. So needless to say, the wicked witch is back- full-throttle. Congratulations to me.

After school, I breathed. I talked to my principal. She is a saint. She asked if I was okay where I proceeded to pour it all out. I told her why these kids stress me out, what makes me crazy. I'm sure that's not what she was really asking but she just genuinely cares about people and I know I can walk away and she has my best interest in my mind. Oh bliss. To be able to trust someone because they have your best interest in mind.

Sometimes I think my world is ruled my chaos when in all reality, it's the chaos that allows me to step back and breathe bliss. Sweet bliss. I don't want chaos all the time, I really don't, unless its overdramatic chaos that I caused (in that case, it good ;) ). I want to be able to trust Jesus in the chaos, knowing He knows me and as I step away in pride, He still has my best interest in mind. He is good and I can trust Him.

I want to-Melissa