Little things that are big things

Last weekend I wrote about not wanting to go to church. Well, I did anyway, because it's not about me... I'm a mom with kids who need it and love it... so I have to hitch up my big-girl-panties and deal.

Church services at the New Place are actually a respite. I don't feel pressured or "on display" or even obligated. I didn't lead worship. Didn't want to. I just enjoyed it quietly.

After we wrapped it all up, I was gathering up the Offspring when a kind-faced lady sidled up to me and handed me something. "This is a Wal-Mart gift card. There's $150 on it, for you to go get your kids' school supplies."

I wanted to melt into a puddle of butter.

God is so good. And He doesn't seem to mind when I'm tired and cranky; He keeps loving on me through it.

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Rick brought home some seedless green grapes from the grocery store yesterday. I hadn't really even taken them out of the sack; we'd just stuck them into the fridge as soon as he got home with them. I pulled them out tonight for a snack and HO. LY. COW. these grapes are the giant economy sized softball grapes... more like grapeFRUIT in size, maybe. Okay, I'm exaggerating. But they ARE enormous.

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Pop came home from the hospital tonight. A few days ago, I hadn't been entirely certain that he would. I really want him to get better; it seems brutally unfair that he's worked so hard all his life, that he's so young, and that he doesn't even get to enjoy it. I know, I know... lots of people don't get to have even the enjoyment that he's had... but I can be petulant from time to time, no? I want him to feel really good again. Mom got her second chance seven years ago. I'm hoping Pop gets his now.

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Tomorrow is Saturday. I am tentatively planning to do something unusual... I'm going to go to a Saturday vigil at the St. Maximus the Confessor Orthodox Church. Not because I particularly want to become a member of the Russian Orthodox Church, per se. No, it's just because I want to connect with God in a different way. It was suggested to me by a longtime friend, and I think it's a good idea. Or it could be just awful; I may accidentally desecrate something and get struck by lightning. Either way, it will be a change of pace.

The circle of life?

Whenever someone asks, "When does school start?", I clap my hands to my ears immediately and begin chanting "LALALALALALALALA" to drown out the thought.

This is not to say that I do not enjoy my job. I do. I love it, in fact. But sudden jolt changes are hard, even when they're good. Slamming headlong into the inflexible routine of the public school year is inexorable, like the jab of the flu shot, and causes me similar anxiety.

I am also experiencing something that I don't think I ever have before... I don't want to go to church.

Huh?

Okay, so I am aware of all the externals, here. Lots and lots of people don't go to church. And probably don't feel weird and guilty about it.

But "church" has been as much a part of me as the egg in a cake. You don't get to take it back out. You can scrape the frosting off and even slice off a thin layer to remove it, but take the egg out? Nope. It's sort-of fundamental. And that's how church is, and has always been, for me.

Also, for a significant chunk of my life, I have either been personally employed by a church OR have been married to someone personally employed by a church. As churches are full of human beings with frailties and are subject to shifts in mood and philosophy, these jobs have come and gone, leaving learning and wisdom in their wake... and hurt, too, but less so as time has gone on. You begin to realize as you grow older that when you find yourself hurt by a church, you had your priorities and expectations placed in the wrong spot. Fix your priorities and expectations on God (Psalm 62:5, anyone?), and there won't be nearly the same kind of hurt... keep in mind that God puts up with spoiled, petulant Christians all the time and still loves them, and that God has a much bigger plan that mine, so getting my dander up about pitiful little stuff is a fruitless waste of emotion.

So for the past couple of years or so, I've been plugging away as the musical entertainment coordinator at a local establishment. My official title was... hmm, what was my official title?... worship leader? Music minister? Something like that. But if we're going to be honest in job description, we have to call it an entertainment coordinator.

And therein lies the problem... because I actually wanted to lead worship.

Since that didn't really match with their expectations, it didn't really work out that I should remain there. I actually have no hard feelings about them... lots of folks have been tiptoeing around me, asking if I'm "okay", etc... yes, I really am. I just wasn't a match, and that's okay.

But it also meant that our Sunday morning routine changed. We didn't miss a beat; the very next Sunday, we were worshiping at the church where Isaac's guitar teacher is the pastor. It's a small gathering, and very out-of-the-ordinary, which is refreshing. I have no complaints.

And yet... I don't want to go to church. Not this church, particularly. Just church.

Being a parent has kept me from veering into the Chaos Zone a number of times. Knowing that Isaac and Alice are depending on me... well, I won't lie, I probably would have gotten in the car and just kept driving and disappeared on a few occasions, if not for them. I owe those two babies a good, solid upbringing. Which means I suck it up and deal with my darkness instead of running away from it.

So I take them to church. They love the new church -- infinitely more than the one we recently left, in fact, and this one seems to have the potential to meet their spiritual needs much more effectively.

I have brought along my keyboard several times and it's been terrific. Those people SING, like no group of believers I have ever been with.

And yet... I don't want to go to church.

I'm still working through it. I don't think I need advice, per se... I listen to the spiritually wise people around me, and I listen to God's still, small voice in the air around me. I'm not angry with Him... not at all. If anything, I love Him more now than I ever have.

It's just one of those in-between times, like the week or two before school starts, when you just feel the need to BE STILL and quit scurrying around because you know there are Imminent Things ahead.

The fourth Sunday of Advent

This is Ballyhoo United Methodist Church's Advent wreath; isn't it pretty? I think so. Today's theme was PEACE, and the family who were chosen to light the Peace Candle read from the passage in Philippians about the peace of God, which transcends all understanding.

It has been a year now that my family and I have been attending this church. It was difficult for me at first, to be honest; it's a different denomination than I grew up in, and I was surprised at my inherent personal biases that really surfaced for me during the year. I can now look back and see that God had a personal journey He wanted me to take. Just like the passage in Acts where the apostle Peter was confronted in a dream about his prejudices, God confronted me about mine. It kinda hurt, too, because I had this image of myself as a non-judgmental, accepting person who didn't assume things about people.

Not only am I a little bit different now than I was a year ago, I can see how this particular denomination's characteristics are uniquely suited to my personality and my beliefs. There are lots of ways in which I disagree with the United Methodist hierarchy in the way they do some things, but who ever agrees a hundred percent with any other human being anyway? In some very important ways, this little United Methodist church in this tiny little town is exactly the right fit for me right now at this place in my life.

Truly He taught us
To love one another;
His law is love
And His gospel is peace.
Chains shall He break
For the slave is our brother;
And in His name
All oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy
In grateful chorus raise we,
Let all within us
Praise His holy name.
Christ is the Lord!
O praise His Name forever,
His power and glory
Evermore proclaim.

--Adolphe Adam
translated into English by John Sullivan Dwight

Yes, He did teach us to love one another. And it's a place in my heart that God's been working on specifically for several years now.

Saw this place over in Vienna, Virginia on the way to the Metro stop there. I pondered aloud whether it was next door to Our Lady of the Sacred Duvet.

The grounds were beautifully plush and, well, comforting-looking. As it should be, I suppose.

Confession

I like the liturgy... there, I said it. I do. I like knowing that all over the world, people in Methodist churches as well as Presbyterian churches and Catholic churches and Lutheran churches are reading and studying and contemplating the same passages of Scripture that I am.

I also like the thing with the colors. You knew I would, of course, me being so color-oriented and all. But I like that each season or celebration has a specific color. Our choir robes are tattered and worn, but the little V-shaped stoles that we wear are reversible and come in four different colors to be used at specific times of the church calendar year.

And I like the way that two kids come in at the beginning of each worship service carrying candle-lighter thingys. The interim pastor talked to the kids today about why we do that, and it was really beautiful the way he talked to them. And they "got it." As well as the idea that at the end of the worship, the flames are carried out and that they are symbolic of the light of Christ in our hearts being dispersed and leaving the building, so to speak.

Isaac really likes being an acolyte (one of the kids who carries the flame in), and he also enjoys switching the PowerPoint slides back in the back. Yes, we have PowerPoint, even in a liturgical congregation.

The thing I really have had to work hard to overcome is my very real prejudice against the notion that Methodists can actually have a spiritual life and can gain something from church. I don't know why or how I acquired this prejudice, but it's been a real bear to overcome and I'm still working on it. These are some of the most spiritual and beautiful people I've ever known, and they're private about it rather than public. I like that.

The church committee in charge of such things has voted to increase my salary because I'm taking over the accompanist position in addition to my worship leadership duties. This is definitely an answer to prayer for our family. Also, someone anonymous once again donated food to our family. I am really, really grateful... beyond what words can express.

Her last Sunday with us

Our church pianist's last Sunday with us is this week. She has been playing at our church for about six years, but it's not her family's home church, and they've offered her a position there. I don't blame her for wanting to be with her family, but it leaves a difficult hole to fill. Sure, I can play for church, and I can lead from the piano too, but it will just be different than having a good accompanist to rely on. She is a delightful young college girl and she will be missed.

Pictured above is the card I made for her. I used watercolor, Sakura gel pens, wire and hot glue to create it.

Below is the painting (matted and framed) that I made for her also:

Ash Wednesday

Govern all by thy wisdom, O Lord,
so that my soul may always be serving thee
as thou dost will,
and not as I may choose.
Do not punish me, I beseech thee,
by granting that which I wish or ask,
if it offend thy love, which would always live in me.
Let me die to myself, that I may serve thee;
let me live to thee, who in thyself art the true life.

Amen.

--Teresa of Avila

Today's Fall-Down Funny

David Burge over at Iowahawk always sends me into gales of laughter, and today's Chaucer-esque offering is no exception:

Heere Bigynneth the Tale of the Asse-Hatte

Directions For Singing

Excerpted from John Wesley's Select Hymns, 1761 (as seen in The United Methodist Hymnal)

I. Learn these tunes before you learn any others; afterwards learn as many as you please.

II. Sing them exactly as they are printed here, without altering or mending them at all; and if you have learned to sing them otherwise, unlearn it as soon as you can.

III. Sing all. See that you join with the congregation as frequently as you can. Let not a slight degree of weakness or weariness hinder you. If it is a cross to you, take it up, and you will find it a blessing.

IV. Sing lustily and with a good courage. Beware of singing as if you were half dead, or half asleep; but lift up your voice with strength. Be no more afraid of your voice now, nor more ashamed of its being heard, than when you sung the songs of Satan.

V. Sing modestly. Do not bawl, so as to be heard above or distinct from the rest of the congregation, that you may not destroy the harmony; but strive to unite your voices together, so as to make one clear melodious sound.

VI. Sing in time. Whatever time is sung be sure to keep with it. Do not run before nor stay behind it; but attend close to the leading voices, and move therewith as exactly as you can; and take care not to sing too slow. This drawling way naturally steals on all who are lazy; and it is high time to drive it out from us, and sing all our tunes just as quick as we did at first.

VII. Above all sing spiritually. Have an eye to God in every word you sing. Aim at pleasing him more than yourself, or any other creature. In order to do this attend strictly to the sense of what you sing, and see that your heart is not carried away with the sound, but offered to God continually; so shall your singing be such as the Lord will approve here, and reward you when he cometh in the clouds of heaven.

What a wonderful heritage the Methodists have!

Today's fortune cookie

That's all I need, something ELSE to complicate my life. Actually, this could be somewhat accurate; I just recently found out that the minister of the church where I was just hired has been transferred to another church in another city, effective March 1. It's the way this denomination does things; every few years they move everyone around.

Which then means that I'll get to take my chances with someone new in the near future.

Meh.

Smirches Ditch of Truth

The title is an anagram for the building we're going to visit tomorrow morning. It's also who's talking to me about being music/worship leader... hence my personal dilemma.

Do I really want to entangle myself on a church staff?

Certainly not one like I've experienced in the past.

But this particular group is of a very different, um, "flavor" than I've aligned myself with in the past, and seems quite unlikely to pose the same threat of sucking the life out of me.

Do I really even want to do the institutional church thing ever again?

Not so much. It might've been a mistake for me to read Frank Viola's books and The Shack, but it's done now and I've had external confirmation of my internal sense of truth. Can't put that toothpaste back in the tube now.

But I also don't have any prospects for participating in an organic church. In the meantime, this group has a lot to recommend it. I'm not getting the same overpowering sense of territorial protection and in-fighting that I was perceiving at the Tuft Rich Chips Brat .

I'm speaking in anagrams because I can, because I found a neato site that creates them automatically for me, and because I really don't want anyone from either group to be able to Google their group and find my blog saying things about them. It's just not necessary or helpful.

Any-hoo, I'm sure there's strife. It's an institutional church, ain't it? But I'm not emotionally invested in some institutional vision, I'm committed to The Church. That's a very liberating position to be in, actually.

But even at all that, am I letting our desperate need for money drive my decision? Because while it isn't a lucrative position, it IS a paid one. We've lost the income from the North Ruralville position (gladly, wiping hands on pants) and we're losing the income from me teaching the college night class.

Hence my dilemma.

I'll let y'all know. It isn't imminent; God usually makes these things obvious for us, so I'll be patient and let him show me what he wants.

And there's our answer

The institutional church decided to leave things the way they currently are, with a volunteer. I'm not surprised, and a little relieved in a way. I would've done it, but I'm not disappointed that we're not going to have to be beholden to a committee for our livelihood.

Rick has an interview with a nearby distribution plant this week. The postal job he has had for the past year and a half just doesn't have a chance of becoming more than the merest part-time in the foreseeable future, thanks to the retarded way the USPS runs things (yeah, we want government doing health care, too). We've just GOT to have another full-time income or we won't make it.

And I know that it'll all work out in the way it's supposed to.

Life with her is unbearably hard right now. Just so you know. I'm not sure how much longer any of us can last like this.

And I still know that it'll all work out in the way it's supposed to. And it's definitely not boring.

Let's see... according to BlogDog, the entire phrase goes something like, "May you live in interesting times and come to the attention of important people." Hmmm... important people... that could mean a lot of different things.

I have often said that if my mugshot hasn't been flashed on The Smoking Gun today, then I'm having a good day so far. By that criteria, today was good... because even though she screamed at me to go to hell, told me she wished I were dead, and told me repeatedly that I am NOT her mother, I did not lose my temper... thus, I did not end up with my mugshot on The Smoking Gun.

We must find the silver lining, no?

Skippin' out

Isaac spent most of the wee hours puking, which scores us a "get out of jail free" pass on a Sunday morning. At the moment he seems to be stabilized, as he's comatose in front of the Boomerang network watching Popeye cartoons.

I have finished Frank Viola's Pagan Christianity and am about halfway through his Reimagining Church. They're quite provocative and, I have to say, are stating some of the things I have been thinking for literally YEARS already.

It's also interesting that we're staring down the barrel of yet another institutional church staff position.

I was speaking to the pastor of said institutional church a couple of weeks ago and decided to casually drop the conversational bomb of mentioning my latest reading materials. I was surprised and pleased to note that he is reading exactly the same books and even had some suggestions for others along the same lines. I smell something interesting coming down the pike.

I like interesting.

The fabled "May you live in interesting times" curse has never really bothered me that much. Yes, I gripe about my "interesting" life because it's not perfect or smooth or even much fun sometimes. But it's definitely interesting. And I'd way rather have interesting than boring.

The way I get around the fear and the loathing is this -- if I really make an effort to separate my "self" from the situation and prevent it from becoming entangled and intertwined with the situation, I'm much happier. If, however, I take it personally that my bipolar daughter tells me to PISS OFF and that she HATES THIS F*CKING FAMILY, then I end up crazy or depressed or both.

She ran away yesterday afternoon and none of us noticed. She was supposed to be doing yard work to earn the money to pay us back for some serious debt she incurred (phone bill) and came in a little later with a couple of backpacks and a teddy bear. "Did you even know I was gone?" she asked me. I looked at her blankly.

"Why did you come back?" I said.

"The person I went to see wasn't home," she said. She had calmed down considerably.

I happen to know who she made the "secret runaway pact" with, and I know that the entire idea is beyond ridiculous, so I'm not particularly ruffled. There are perqs to being in-the-know with all her friends at school. Plus, the entire situation reminds me very much of the typical four-year-old who "runs away" and comes back a little later when she gets hungry or decides it's not such a great idea after all.

Besides, I "ran away" when I was her age. We all survived it then. We'll survive this now.

Doesn't mean I'm not worried. Heck, I worry a lot about where this is going and where she's going to end up... but I also have to keep reminding myself that I am not the architect of who she has turned out to be. I just have to try to help her get through adolescence intact... which I will admit to you is no easy task, but is much less onerous than believing I must somehow re-craft her personality. That I cannot do.

As for skipping church, I don't think my attitude toward it now is one of "running away." If anything, it's surprising to me how difficult the whole idea is. It's ever-so-much safer to join an institution and play the game the way I've always played it. That is even more tempting than I ever expected.

We'll see what comes down the pike. I believe with all my heart that God takes all things, even situations He doesn't approve of, and works them together for His purposes. We'll just continue to "do the next thing" (as Elisabeth Elliot always urges) and see where He takes us. I may not be terribly organized or even-tempered, but I think God can usually count on me to be willing to jump into the Unknown.

Usually.


UPDATE: Isaac puked again. Sunday Funday!

What I'm reading right now

ReImagining Church: Pursuing Organic Christianity by Frank Viola

I haven't started it yet, but it's the first thing I've seen in a while about church that I've actually been interested in reading.

Speak in a person's native language and they'll listen

I've long been a proponent of churches (or rather, the people IN churches) learning to speak the language of the people they're attempting to reach with the Gospel. It's pretty dumb to decide you're going to be a missionary to, say, Japan, but refuse to speak Japanese or make your message relevant in Japanese culture. The major mistake most early missionaries made was to convert people to Westernization rather than to real Christianity.

When watching Dog Chapman, some folks are seriously turned off because he dresses very oddly and uses quite strong language with the folks he's taking into custody. I know he and his troupe are not perfect people, but I believe that Dog's conversion to Christianity is genuine -- he continues to use rough language because the people he's "ministering to" speak that language, and frankly it's his own native tongue. That's not to say that Dog et. al. won't slip up and fall back into problems. They very likely will. But it's part of the journey, and I'm thankful God lets ALL of us walk with Him. I have a feeling God's "narrow road" encompasses a lot more paths than some of us want to know about.

I drive by the cowboy church in Tioga fairly often, and I hope I get the opportunity to visit it some day. I love the concept, and in this area, it's speaking the heart language of a target people group with the transcendent Gospel of Jesus Christ. Maybe they never sing "All Hail the Pow'r" accompanied by an enormous pipe organ... I don't see that those things are required in Scripture.

I think it's rather humorous when the pastor of a church has a total cow over "contemporary music" but wonders why there aren't any young couples joining his church. Why won't they take a look at those young people's everyday lives? On the way to work in the morning, they probably listen to the classic rock or the alternative radio station. They watch "So You Think You Can Dance" and do the vast majority of their reading on a computer screen. The only time they ever hear hymns is at their grandmother's funeral.

Music styles are very much like languages; people learn to "speak" a particular style and they're comfortable "conversing" in it. Boys who immerse themselves in death metal can understand the words just fine, even though their grandparents can't.

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I'm in a severe drought period as far as church and worship go, and it's lasted over a year so far. It's discouraging to see all the green growth vanish and die. The enthusiasm and passion I once embraced has dried up into dead dusty sand, and there's no end in sight. Imagine the ripply waves of heat rising off the endless dunes of the Sahara... that's my soul right now.

The understanding that a desert isn't really "dead" but just dormant -- well, that keeps me going most of the time. Eventually the rains will come again.

I don't need another study course or support group or tent revival or crusade. It doesn't help a sand dune to pour fertilizer granules on it.

Watching the skies for that little cloud the size of a man's hand (I Kings 18:44) which portends the sound of the abundance of rain...

Kamp Krusty did it again

Does Jesus love the little children? Really? Because Jesus' purported followers don't really seem to.

Children in Communist North Korea
Image from NKPersecution

Do bears poop in the woods?

Well, then why is anyone surprised that the Pope is Catholic?

Father Jonathan over at FOXNews says this:

Because I have received a barrage of e-mails asking what this document means — not a few expressing sentiments of great concern — I will try to explain in common terminology its purpose and significance for Christians of all denominations.

Just in case you’ve been reading mainstream media headlines, we should probably start out with this: Pope Benedict does not believe, and has never suggested, non-Catholics are all going to hell because they are not members of the Catholic Church.

Umm... why not? If you're the head of a church that has always, always, always portrayed itself and believed itself to be the sole dispenser of God's grace, then doesn't it logically follow that someone who is not a Catholic is then, by definition, going to hell?

I say this as a firm Protestant, of course.

But I also believe that if you're going to subscribe to and adhere to a particular brand of faith, it had better be because you firmly believe your eternal soul depends upon it.

Just my opinion.

Let's get serious about what a church really is, K?

Go and read this post over at Kamp Krusty... pretty insightful stuff, and a lot of what I've been seriously pondering over the past number of years.

I think American churches will spend, oh, $30 billion plus this year on staff and buildings. Apparently that's somebody's issue.

For every dollar donated to churches in America, 85 cents goes to pay for "internal" spending, for congregational operations. That means at least 85% goes to something that trumps help for, say, the poverty-stricken. So yeah, that stuff is certainly a big priority, but not so much for me, at this point in my life.

Just a sample of what you'll find there.

Thought for the day

Okay, I know that's sort-of harsh, but I have secretly wondered that for a while now. I know it's good (and completely Scriptural) for me to be with fellow believers -- I don't argue with that at all. And it's good and Scriptural to sit under wise teaching. But sometimes sitting through CHURCH isn't really either of those things.

I'm not making a reference to anything or anyone in particular. I just would like to have the freedom to examine what I do and whether it fits into God's Big Plan, not whether I'm making people happy. I daresay that it's healthy to skip the routine once in a while and spend time with God in a different setting.

UPDATE: Yes, I realize that it's the wrong question... or rather, that the question is based on a faulty assumption, that being that God wants me to be happy.

He doesn't.

He wants me to be like Jesus.

True happiness has absolutely nothing to do with my circumstances.

I still, however, refuse to believe that Jesus wouldn't "skip the routine once in a while and spend time with his Father in a different setting."

And as far as spending time with God, I believe that Brother Lawrence had the real secret to "church" -- realizing that, for a true Christian, every moment you're breathing is spent "in church" because YOU are the church (as my faithful AuntyAda has pointed out in the comments). It's what Brother Lawrence literally called "practicing the presence of God" and it's a transforming truth when you finally stumble upon it.

Et cetera

Last Thursday when I came to band rehearsal, I discovered it was "oldies night." We did "What If His People Prayed" (Casting Crowns), "Salvation" (Charlie Hall), "Forever" (Chris Tomlin), "Break Our Hearts" (Passion), and "I Can Only Imagine" (MercyMe).

It made me chuckle privately, because most churches around here would consider those to be cutting-edge new songs. I don't think any of them is more than ten or fifteen years old. But WOW Church tends to keep things pretty fresh. In my more narcissistic moments (of which there are plenty, since I'm an artist and we tend toward that vein anyway) I like to think that Bill put the MercyMe song in simply because he now has a living, breathing piano player who can do it instead of using the Triton's sequencer to reproduce it.

Actually, in the little church next door here in North Ruralville, they still consider "Victory In Jesus" to be new music. It was, after all, published during the Great Depression and all, which is a switch from the Civil War-era hymns that populate much of the hymnal. I pray that God will enlighten all those who believe the hymnal to be canonical, but I fear most of them haven't listened to him in a long time anyway. I'm not saying that people who prefer traditional hymns aren't Christians -- no way! I'm specifically referring to the people who believe that the hymnal is as holy as the Bible itself and can't be added to or taken away from, and who believe it's the only legitimate source of church music.

Music aside, I think that I die just a little bit every Sunday that I have to be in that building next door. I hate attending a "church" that has absolutely no purpose... or at least appears to have lost its purpose somewhere back there. I don't have a single quarrel with any one of the seven people who still come week after week, except that they're just marking time. I have plenty of other ways to waste my time which are actually appealing.

Harsh? You bet. The truth hurts.

And until such time as God moves us to Ardmore to serve with the WOW Church folks, we're stuck.

Whenever I'm in Ardmore at WOW Church, I feel frustrated that I can't pitch in and do more because of our proximity problems, and I feel an overwhelming sense of belonging, of family, of like-mindedness. I am praying that's where God's taking us, because I can't bear too much more of this isolation and friendlessness. I'm accustomed to spending time working alongside the people in my church and being involved. This year has been tough on me, not having that outlet and that opportunity to sharpen myself with fellow believers.

Anyhow, we'll see what comes. Rick and I both have our resumes and applications in at an oil refinery there (yes, can you imagine me in steel-toed boots?) and I'm hoping at least one of us can get on at that plant, because the pay is excellent. I'm also sort-of hoping it's me, because I think that having Rick at Wal-Mart could prove a valuable thing -- their insurance is quite good, and the employee discount could sure save us some serious dough.

Teaching has it's pros and cons. The summers and Christmases, of course, being tops on the list. But the pay is just crap ... certainly not equating to the amount of time one must spend in college to earn the title of "Highly Qualified" under the No Child Left Behind boondoggle. They require more and more of teachers and give them less and less to work with. If teaching is where God wants me, then that's what I'll do. But I don't have to like it. I could probably land a job with one of the burgeoning suburb districts near Dallas, where the pay is much better, but we can't afford to live in any of those places and we can no longer afford to drive long distances to get there.

Oh well. Tomorrow morning it's back to Shakespeare for me. We've got to get these plays finished in short order because I want to fit in another novel before the end of school.