Amazed by the Season

“To every thing there is a season,…”—it has become rather cliché, but it holds so much truth. The rest of the verse where this statement is found (Ecclesiastes 3:1) gives the rest of the story—"and a time to every purpose under the heaven:” God has specific purposes He wishes to accomplish during each season of our lives—and He has set up nature in such a way as to mirror the transitions we, His human children, go through.

Generally, a season of trials, sorrow, hardship, and the like is followed by—providentially— a season of joy, celebration, or thanksgiving. Sometimes it seems like it takes way too long to get to the next season. But if we pay attention, I believe there is always value in what God is doing because He always acts according to Romans 8:28—my favorite Scripture: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Hmm, we are currently residing “under heaven,” as it were, and God has purposes abounding there—no matter where we are or what we are experiencing.

I’ve always admired the beauty of the natural world’s changing seasons. But I don’t know that, since childhood, I’ve been truly amazed by it. Winter is cold—and Christmas comes. Family gets together and eats a lot. Then before one knows it, spring is here. What was dead now comes alive again, and the outdoors are filled with color. As the weather grows warmer still, people don swimsuits and crank up the AC. At summer’s end, kids reluctantly get ready for “back to school.” And as fall rolls around, there is a crunchy calm in the environment as leaves change and drop—and students and teachers settle into new routines.

Right now, looking outside, it is still summer—but fall is drawing near. Enter any department store and you’ll know it. School supplies are now marked down, pumpkin décor is everywhere, and people are planning costumes and harvest parties. But in my spirit right now, it feels more like spring. Why? Because it’s a season in which God—that all-creative, all-knowing, all-purposeful planner—is doing a new thing.

“Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” Here, in Isaiah 43 (verse 19), God is talking about His people Israel—but they are a parallel to us, also His “chosen” children. Skipping down to verse 25, we read, ““I, I am he who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins.” God’s big-picture plan of redemption was Jesus. “For God so loved the world…,” and everything He does in our lives springs forth from that love. Even when everything looks dismal and dark, His love can illuminate that place with hope—and divine purpose. If we can recognize what He’s doing in that new season.

Right now, in my season, God has taken me out of a teaching position—which provided our family with a balanced, steady income; He has allowed me to have surgery to correct some years of pain and suffering—but I’m still in recovery; He has given me a grandson to love and cherish; and He has seen my family through one of the scariest events of our lives.

When I gave my notice at work—which I specifically felt the Lord prompting me to do—I didn’t know when my surgery would be. But God knew it would not happen until late August. I didn’t know that our son Josiah would have an accident, just less than a week before my surgery, which would result in a major head injury—leaving him in a neck brace for two months. But God knew. He knew He would deploy his angels at that exact time in that exact place to keep our boy’s life here on earth from ending prematurely.

God knew how much joy our grandson Gene would bring us—and what a blessing that would be in getting through some of the tough stuff. And before both the accident and my surgery, He allowed us a trip to Hawaii—something we’ll never forget. If we had known what was coming—well, we may never have gone. But God has a way of orchestrating our steps.

Though there are uncertainties in this season, I keep looking—and the more I look, the more I see life. Life that was not lost—a second chance for a future for our son; life pouring in through God’s redemptive provision during this time—and the love of the Body of Christ; life-giving memories as we look back on our Hawaii trip; life in the smiles of our grandson—and in his enthusiasm for all life has to offer; renewed life through the miracle of surgery—with the promise of happier, easier, and less restrictive days ahead. So…much…life!

If I only focused on the negatives or the “difficults,” I could’ve missed this season’s purpose entirely. God is reminding me that He is the giver of life—that He has given us life eternal through His Son Jesus Christ and that He gives abundant life every day through His loving-kindness. He’s reminding me that His plans are for my good—not to harm me but to give me a hope and a future (Jer. 29:11)—what a life-giving purpose!

I may not order many pumpkin spice lattes in the upcoming weeks (they’re not really my thing), and I may get annoyed when too many dead leaves start to pile up in my yard. I may have a challenge figuring out what to wear due to a limited fall wardrobe, and I may get caught in the rain a few times (this is northwest Oregon, after all!). I may find that I’ve missed out on some great end-of-season sales here and there. But one thing I will purpose to do—to see life—to speak it and declare it and to run with it. It is for freedom that Christ has set us free (Gal. 5:1a—punctuation emphasis added)! “Freedom” means “the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint.” It also has to do with not being prisoned or enslaved.

God has said in this season, “Be unlimited, not hindered. Be a life live-er, not a survivor. Grab on to new experiences that will lift you up; don’t be content to stay in the doldrums.” And finally, “Give out of what you have received—"A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you (Luke 6:38).””

So I am not averting my path to avoid the unpleasant; I am staying in the path of life. It is coming to me, and it will come to you. Certainly, I’ve been through periods of winter—and know that it was only by the grace of God that I came out the other side so my soul could experience spring once again. And I’ve been through the raging summers—where the pressure was turned up and everything was tense—and intense.

If all my digits were thumbs, I can almost guarantee that not one of them would be green. I’m not a gardener. I’m much better at killing things than helping them to thrive. But God is saying, “This is a fruitful time. Watch what I’m doing.” I stand amazed by the season I find myself in. And by a God who does all things well and makes all things new.

Confessions of a Kindergarten (One Year Counts, Right?) Teacher

My first experience with educating kindergartners was during my Master's program internship. As it turned out, the teacher and I weren't a great fit. But those kids were so eager and cute. Once while doing recess duty outside, an autistic boy in the class who was considered "nonverbal" pointed to the ground (it was a sunny day) and clearly spoke the word "shadow." I had just earlier taught a science lesson about the sun and shadows. This mainstreamed student, who made a lot of noise but whom we couldn't tell was grasping anything or not, had obviously been paying attention and retaining--and it had made enough of an impression on him to put forth the effort required to form the word! I was utterly amazed, astounded, and excited. My mentor teacher wasn't terribly impressed. But it's something I'll never forget. It was the moment I questioned (for just a minutes) whether I might actually be cut out for kindergarten. In the end, personality conflict demanded a switch--and I ended up completing my year of student teaching in a second grade classroom. I had learned not long after starting the internship that I was indeed pregnant with our firstborn. The second grade class was a tough group, but my overseeing teacher was very understanding; it proved to be a good choice.

After graduating with my Master's in Teaching, having a baby a week later, and failing to get an actual "teaching job," my next real kindergarten immersion was going to work in a childcare when Kristiana was ten months old. These 5-year-olds were definitely high-spirited--and they always wanted a push on the swing here or a boost onto a bar there. But I had quite a bit of energy back then.

I didn't feel that I had a great deal of patience for "little people" that were not my own, so I began to pursue elementary classroom teaching again, spending a year subbing in Beaverton, six months subbing in Hermiston, and a few months subbing in Albany.

When Kalina was of preschool age, we relocated to Salem. I commuted for eight months to Corvallis to teach one-on-one in a reading clinic, where I met Ellen, a spunky kindergartner whose parents very much wanted her to learn to read. I'd never taught anyone to read "from scratch" before. This was my first "success story," as it turned out. Some days I remember being rather mentally exhausted after her forty-five minute session; I mean, keeping a five-year-old focused for that length of time--and learning at the same time can be nothing short of miraculous. I enjoyed her funny quips and struck a good balance between answering and redirecting her comments and questions--but I was always glad to see my much older clients coming.

After the reading clinic, I took a job at Cornerstone Christian School. It wasn't the right timing for my young family for me to be working full-time, as it turned out. But...we loved the school--and the following year we enrolled both girls. Kalina was in preschool; Kristiana was in third grade. There was more to my "kindergarten education" ahead.

I had marveled at Kristiana's kindergarten teacher, Miss Tunnell (in Albany), for dealing with Kristiana's "daydreaming" and her flair for the dramatic. I marveled once again at Kalina's teacher, Mrs. O'Connor, as she entered kindergarten--she could be stubborn and challenging, but this woman had the ability to teach her to read, among other things. I thought to myself, 'I could never teach kindergarten.'

I subbed for Mrs. O'Connor several times over the next few years, finding the kids adorable of course but always secretly thinking, 'I'm more cut out for the older kids.'

Once Josiah was in kindergarten at CCS, I was the librarian there--and that year I ran a program with my co-librarian, Mrs. Franklin, that we called "Kindergarten Storytime." We would read a story to the kids, then lead them in a corresponding arts and crafts project. I found this to be a delightful time and carried on the program by myself the following year--boy, was it hard to complete some of the projects in the allotted time! I had to learn what kindergartners en mass were capable of and try to plan accordingly. I was inclined to think in terms of what an older child could accomplish in fifteen or twenty minutes. I liked that it was a short, bright, fun spot in the day for them--but was thankful that I didn't have to plan an entire afternoon's worth of lessons and activities. Once again, the kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Bittner, had my utmost respect--and as much as I loved storytime, I didn't envy her job.

It wasn't until I had a couple temporary school district jobs, a fifth- and sixth-grade job share, a second- and third-grade classroom position, three years of language arts pull-out classes, and several years of being a librarian under my belt, that I even considered the idea of teaching kindergarten. It was part-time, which wasn't what I'd set out to obtain--but the schedule appealed for several reasons. Still, it was kindergarten! It had become a necessity for Josiah's school, which was now known as Crosshill, to add a second kindergarten class. I remembered Mrs. O'Connor's words to me years back, when I'd first gotten to know her: "You can do all things through Christ." For some reason, I had peace about this idea and found myself saying to the principal one day on the phone, "I'd be interested in the kindergarten position." This came as a surprise to...everyone--especially me!

I was hired and began setting up a classroom, for the first time in eight years. It had been determined that I would have two of my friend Vonnie's grandkids in my class; their family were missionaries to Ukraine, and they'd be spending a year in the States. Their Seth reminded me in some ways of my Josiah when he was younger--and we managed to make a fast bond. Havalah took a little longer to "fall in love" with me, but once she did she was one of my biggest fans.

As the year went on, I could not believe how fast it was racing by--and how some days seemed way too short. And then as it ran down to weeks left, I found myself thinking, 'I haven't had enough time with these kids.' You see, I had fallen in love. They had made me laugh. They had learned and grown. They had developed socially. They had let their little--no, their big--personalities shine. And I was going to miss them all.

I assumed I'd be teaching kindergarten again the following year, having learned the new language curriculum and all. But enrollment didn't have two kinder classes in store. Instead, I ended up teaching fifth grade. I adored my fifth-graders as well. But looking back, there was something pretty incredible about my year in kindergarten. So many milestones reached, so many things learned--not just for the students but for me.

Will I teach kindergarten again? I don't know. But now I know that I am not scared of it--that I would actually welcome it. I figured out that I could be over-animated--and guess what? Kindergartners love it. I would sometimes randomly change lyrics to songs to keep them on their toes. I would give them "true or false" statements that were sometimes ridiculous. And I had one student who absolutely loved it when I would show "the wrong way" of forming a letter on the board, pretending I was doing it correctly--so that the students would have to tell me the right way to do it.

In the movie Mrs. Doubtfire, Robin Williams' character, Daniel Hillard, expresses a theory about educating children--that "you don't have to play down to them. You just play to them." And that's kind of what teaching kindergarten is like. Yes, there are the more serious moments--but there's energy--as a kindergarten teacher, you have to keep it fun and engaging if you want true learning to take place. And the best teaching moments are when they're having so much fun that they don't even know they're learning.

I miss the light in their eyes, their innocent and often complex questions, the way they learn to use scissors, the messy "just ate snack" faces. All of it. So here's my confession, in a nutshell. Deep inside...I just might be a kindergarten teacher.