Beauty on Campus

I had the opportunity to visit the Reece Museum on campus this week.  I was so surprised by the raw emotions I experienced.  I will share photos of some of my favorite pieces. 

This piece is part sculpture, part something else entirely.  She is sitting on an old, worn wooden box, and she is bound to the box by rope.  The design on her "skin" has a bird sitting in its nest, prints of male sculptures, flowers, and a serpent.  I felt sorry for her, but I was inspired at the same time.  I am not sure what she means, or what the artist was trying to portray, but she is beautiful.

This quilt is made of cotton, silk thread, and newspaper strips.  It is called A Month of Sundays.  There are several news headlines woven into each patch.   Many of the strips are of traumatic events, or events that appeal to the average person.  It was very moving. 

This was my absolute favorite piece.  This is a dress, but it is so much more than that.  All over the dress, the artist wrote down some things people have said about or to them, or that they have said about themselves, that they could not take off.  I believe that they were saying that we wear these words like an article of clothing.  We can choose to take them off, but most of the time, we wear them as if we are bound to.  "I am hopeless."  "I am not good enough."  "I am afraid."  "You are too fat."  These are just a few of the statements that are written on the dress.  This piece relates to me the most because I have had my own accusers through this life, including myself.  This artist chose to take their accusations off, but Jesus washed mine clean.  I can recall things people have said about or to me, or things that I have said about myself, but the pain is often drowned out by the love of Christ.  I thought that I would share some of these things in honor of this artist.  "You will never amount to anything."  "You stupid, F*#@ing B*^%!"  "Everything is your fault.  It's all you!  You!  You!  You!"  "You are too big."  "I can't do this."  "I am not smart enough."  We do not have to wear these words.  We can lay them down at the foot of the cross.  We can pick up the crown that He has laid before us.  We can rise up and shine and reign like the sons and daughters of our King.  I have never been more moved by a piece of art in my entire life.  I tip my hat to you my friend!

I love these two pieces as well.  They are made out of completely recycled material, but they are still cute.  I would actually wear these!  I was so impressed.  The talent and imagination it takes to make something like this is just amazing.

Last, but not least, these chrysalises are made of yarn.  They have been crocheted and placed on very pretty stands.  I am not sure of the meaning behind them, although I am sure I could come up with something emotional since that is what I do.  Still, they are something I would love to display in my shabby chic home.  If only God had called me to a profession that actually made money!  :)  Hahaha!  Teaching will not buy me any of these pieces of art, but they are still absolutely beautiful.

Well, I guess this post has a double purpose.  You learned some things about me, while seeing the inside of the Reece Museum on ETSU campus.  I hope you enjoyed it!

Collo Requirements

Today, I am taking a break from the "Who I Am" posts to give some information on a recent event that satisfies a collo requirement.  Yay!  I was not aware that this could be used for a class when I originally signed up, but getting a grade for something like this is awesome.  This Saturday, my oldest son and I had the enormous opportunity to participate in the Alzheimer's Association Walk.  The theme of the event was, "The end to Alzheimer's starts with -> Me!"  We were able to help in the Promise Garden booth where we assisted participants with the appropriate colored flower.  Each color had a meaning.  Blue flowers represented those who are actually suffering from Alzheimer's.  Purple represented those who have lost loved ones due to Alzheimer's.  Yellow represented those who currently care for and support someone with Alzheimer's.  Last, but not least, orange represented those who generally support the cause of ending Alzheimer's.  The participants would write something on the pedals, and the helpers would put the flowers on the stem.  The flowers would spin, and they were so beautiful.  One woman lost her grandfather to Alzheimer's just 14 days before the Walk.  She was so moved by accepting her purple flower that she couldn't write her message.  She asked me to do it for her.  This made it personal for me.  I watched her walk away with tears in her eyes and a lump in my throat.  When we were all finished handing out the flowers, everyone at the Walk was invited to an inspirational speech.  The speaker had each of us hold up our flower by color.  She beautifully explained what each color represented and gave a moment of pause to honor those holding up their flowers.  There were only 2 blue flowers in the crowd.  I imagined how many people in this area, that are actually suffering from this disease, that were unable to attend because of how debilitating the disease is.  Later, I found out, by one of the other volunteers, that there was another man present that was too choked up to take his blue flower. 

I chose an orange flower.  I wrote, "For Mrs. Woodworth," on mine.  Mrs. Woodworth was a nurse in her prime.  After a hip replacement, Alzheimer's began taking over her mind.  I worked for HomeInstead at the time and I was her Companion/Caregiver.  Her decline began gradually.  After only a couple of months, her mind was completely overcome with fear and confusion.  I was clueless and afraid for her.  She was such an intelligent and graceful woman, and then she was gone. 

My son was fascinated by the people, but more so with the camera from Channel 11 News.  The camera man took the time to answer every question my son had.  It was wonderful.  I was afraid to let him ask at first because I wasn't sure if the man would be nice.  I was so surprised at how genuine this man was.  He was excited to explain everything to a 13 yr old boy.  I took a picture for a keepsake. 

Channel 11 News Cameraman teaching my oldest son about his camera.

The majority of my volunteer work has been through my church.  I thoroughly enjoyed serving my community outside of my church.  I was able to meet people that would not usually step foot in a church.  Although I was not sharing the name of Jesus, I was still able to share His love. 

Who I am, part 1

I have been given the task of blogging about who I am.  This is pretty convenient since I had previously told you that I would share my testimony.  Since there are so many aspects of who I am and what my testimony is, I will be doing this in several posts, rather than just one long story.  For my first post about who I am and what my testimony is, I will be sharing my first college essay.  My second week of class in Comp I, we came in to a list on the board.  We had to choose a prompt and write about it.  I was terrified because, up to this point, I was convinced that I was a stupid person.  By this, I mean literally unintelligent and incapable of learning much.  I chose a topic that I thought would be fairly easy.  I was supposed to write about what I would do if I could go back to a single day in my past.  I put my pencil on the paper and froze, but then it just came out of me.  As I began to write, I felt like something had taken over me and the words just flowed onto the paper.  This is not the most amazing essay ever, but it is a part of my inmost being.  In that classroom, sitting at that desk, I learned so much about myself.  It was the beginning of an awakening that has not died since.  I hope that you enjoy it...

I Can Be Healed

            I see him sitting there.  He is watching the Elvis marathon.  I am not sure how I got here or what has happened, but he is right there.  I am afraid.  Can he see me?  Hesitantly, I walk up and sit down beside him.  I am trembling.  I feel as though I might choke on the knot in my throat as I fight back tears.  He looks at me like nothing has changed.  Do I look the same?  He tries to hand me the joint in his hands.  I finally speak.  “I am not a little girl anymore, Daddy Mike.  I don’t smoke.  I don’t drink.  I am not the same.”

            He doesn’t seem fazed by my change.  I am still trying to figure out if this is real.  We talk a little about the past.  We talk a little about my present.  I am dying to ask him, but scared to death at the same time.  Finally, the word jumps out of my throat as if it was trying to break free.  “Why?”  The next thing I know a string of questions and rants come out with years of tears and anger.  All of them end with the same word, “why.”

            I do not expect much of an answer.  He is the same man that did all of those horrible things.  He does not give an answer right away.  He just sits there watching Elvis and smoking.  I sit there with him, broken and silent.  I wonder how I can hate him and love him at the same time.  I wonder how he can bring fear and comfort at the same time.  I do not know where to go from here. 

            As I sit there wondering what to do next, he actually answers me.  “Because I wanted to.  Because I didn’t think you would remember.  Because I didn’t think I would get caught.”  I did not expect the truth, but there it is.  I got what I wanted, but I am not sure I feel any better.  The truth is still the truth.  I am still broken and scarred.  He is still sitting there watching Elvis and smoking his joint.  There is nothing left to say.

            I am sitting there on that awful couch, memories pouring in.  I think about the time I asked him if I could call him Daddy.  I think about how I used to look forward to our time alone at night.  I think about how excited I was to see the strawberry wine, the joint, and the marathon.  It was supposed to be our father-daughter time.  It was supposed to be normal and healthy.   The reality of his deception makes me sick.  I was so innocent, so naïve.  I struggle with thoughts of guilt and sorrow.  My heart is groaning and I feel as though I might be taken over with despair.

            In my heart, I know I have to forgive him.  It is the only way I will ever find peace.  It is the only way I will survive with my sanity intact.  Some days, forgiveness will be easy.  I will remember that my past made me who I am today.  I will remember that it led me down the road that gave me my husband and children.  I will remember that it led me to Jesus.  Other days, I will have to fight the anger.  I will have to choose to forgive, regardless of how many flashes of his face go through my mind.  I will have to remember the grace that made me new.

            I do not know if I am dreaming or really sitting here.  Will I wake up soon?  Am I stuck here?  I have to pick myself up off this couch.  I have to walk out the door.  Maybe I just have to open my eyes.  Either way, I know I have to go on living.  I can to choose to forgive.  I can keep on raising my children and thanking God that they are safe.  I can allow my broken past to make me stronger.  I can be who he said I would never be.  I can be healed.  I can be free.

I thought that it would be best to start with this essay because the reality of who I am and where I come from is not all roses and sunshine.  I cannot say that I have lived a beautiful and perfect life.  It has been rough and I have gotten dirty.  I do not love Jesus because that is what I was taught to do.  I do not want to inspire kids because I had an amazing childhood.  I love Jesus because He is the first taste of love I have ever known.  I love Him because He loved me when I was unlovable.  I want to inspire kids because inspiration was so void in my childhood.  I want to be for others everything I never had.  I am at peace with so much of my past.  Right now, there are children out there that are going through the same things that I experienced.  I want to be there to recognize the fear and sorrow.  I want to be there to be the spark that fans into a flame.  I want to be there to set them on a path better than the one I felt doomed to follow.  If I can be healed, so can they.  To all of those in the Education system, determine to be the spark.  For me, it was Jesus.  For them, it can be us!

Getting things done!

Hello all!  I have been so very busy lately.  I have finally made headway on searching for a mentor for my Honors Thesis.  I had a meeting with Dr. B today, but I am way out of her field.  I do love the way she teaches and how happy she seems to be.  She is a very pleasant instructor, and I would have really enjoyed working with her.  I will be meeting with another instructor in the field of Special Education soon, and I am excited to see what he says about the direction I would like to go in. 


The boys and I will be working with the Alzheimer's Walk this Saturday.  The little ones and I will be at one booth, and my oldest will be working at another booth.  I am excited to see how they feel when we go home.  Will they be full of energy and excitement because they got to help?  Will they be exhausted and irritated?  Will they be glad to go home, or will they want to do more?  Most of this will depend on how much sleep we get the night before, I am sure.  Thinking about the Alzheimer's Walk led me to thinking about a flyer I saw in the church office last week.  They are looking for volunteers to sit with shut-ins.  I remembered that my mother-in-law used to visit a lady in a nursing home, named Mona.  With the football season ending soon, my oldest will need a positive activity to be involved in that will shape his character.  We have decided that we will each adopt a church member that is a shut-in and visit with them a couple of days a week.  I have worked with the elderly in the past, and they have so much wisdom.  I have always enjoyed their company. 


Normally, I would not be sharing this kind of information with the world because Jesus said not to let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, that our deeds done in secret will be rewarded in heaven, and that all of our good deeds are as filthy rags before the Lord.  Aside form that, there is absolutely nothing I can do to earn the salvation that He so freely offers.  I am completely at the mercy of His unfailing love.  Unfortunately, putting these things on my blog is a requirement for my collo class. 


Well, I am off to my crazy, busy life again.  Thank you for taking the time to read about it.  Jesus loves you, and so do I!

His strength is made perfect in my weakness...

This has been one long week.  I have work on Mondays and Fridays, class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, side work on Saturdays, three boys with scouts and football, and the list goes on.  To some, this may not seem like much, but my 35 year old body says otherwise today.  At church this morning, when I finally sat down in Sunday School class, Nancy, a friend of mine, asked, "Rene', are you okay?"  My response was that I am just exhausted!  As class went on, I started to wake up.  These ladies are so amazing.  We have a prayer and praise board that helps us remember what we are praying for.  I felt Jesus tugging on my heart this morning to write these words under the praise section, "His strength is made perfect in our weakness."  This is my go-to verse about every day of the week.  Have I run myself ragged?  His strength is made perfect in my weakness.  Has my lack of attention skills bested me again?  His strength is made perfect in my weakness.  Do I feel like I am crazy for taking this life on all alone?  I am never alone because I have Jesus and His strength is made perfect in my weakness.  Has my flesh won out and have I sinned?  Have I raised my voice to my boys?  Have I been rude to someone during a bad day?  Have I used my finances or time unwisely?  Have I eaten an entire bag of doughnuts while stressing and studying for an exam?  Have I interupted Lidnsey 10 times in a single conversation because I wasn't quick to listen and slow to speak?  Have I done much worse?  Jesus died for these sins, and His strength is made perfect in my weakness.  My life is full of long weeks, but it is also full of precious memories and even more precious boys.  Believe it or not, this is the most peaceful time I have ever had in my life.  My testimony goes on and on forever.  I feel like the Apostle Paul when he said that he has become all things to all people in order that he might save some.  I will tell you more about this lifelong testimony of mine next time.  Today, I just want to thank my Father in Heaven for being my strength when I have none.  As I continue to do everything as if unto Him, I know that He knows me better than anyone, and He is everything that I could ever possibly need.

Reflecting on my 1st week at ETSU...

This last week has been both exciting and overwhelming.  I love my new school and I am thrilled to see where this journey will take me.  I am also overwhelmed at the size of the campus and the age of the students.  This semester will be an exhilarating challenge that I intend to meet head on.  I have already learned so much.  The Growth Mindset that George Poole has been teaching me has set me on fire for the classroom and my home.  I can not wait to implement this into my classroom, and I have already begun teaching it to my boys.  I must admit, I have had a fixed mindset my entire life.  Understanding that I am in charge of my knowledge just makes me want to learn more, read more, and experience more.  

The boys have been a beautiful challenge this week.  I will probably not be sharing their names on here, but my 13 year old is in that stage where he wants to be angry with me because he is 13, but he knows that I love him more than the whole world, so he can not be mad at me.  We had one of those days today.  :(  I have so few years left with him.  I pray every day that I am training him up in the way that he should go, and that I am setting a mighty and righteous example for him.  

My middle son is 7.  This is my sanctification incarnate.  Bless him, he has a severe case of Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder (ADHD).  I have gone around the world trying to keep my children off of medication for the sake of keeping them in a nicely packaged box for their teachers, but this amazing little boy can not help himself.  I finally caved when I found him crying on the floor behind the couch last year.  When I asked him what was wrong, he said, "Everyone thinks I'm terrible."  That moment was the end of my fight.  All of the papers I had written on the dangers of ADHD medication crumbled before me at the sound of those words.  His little mind has bloomed since we began the medication, but the journey has not been easy.  There are side effects and bad days.  Today was a difficult day.  I spent almost an hour cleaning pen ink off of him with rubbing alcohol and cotton balls tonight. Tomorrow is another day.  On the hard days, I remember that God made all things good, even little boys.  I read an article about this on Facebook about a month ago.  This understanding has helped me be more compassionate and patient.  My little Pecan Pie has my heart.

My youngest is also my easiest.  Considering the fact that his brothers have always taken more time than he has, he has learned to entertain himself.  He is also my most responsible one.  My biggest challenge with my Sweetness is remembering not to forget him in the chaos of the other two.  He is always the first one up and the first to obey.  I pray I do not leave him to himself too often.  At the end of the year last year, he was the only one that did not get in trouble in school, so I planned a huge Special Day for him.  In my house, Special Days are the days when one of my sons gets to be with me without the other two.  We usually do something special, like get ice cream or stay up late with a movie and a treat.  Some days we just go to the grocery store and get a pack of gum or candy before we leave. We have a very busy life.

My boys and I have survived so many difficult weeks, and we have rejoiced in so many wonderful weeks.  This is life.  There are ups and downs, good days and bad days.  There are days that seem like everything is going wrong and the whole world is against you.  There are also days that seem like you hold the whole world in your hands.  Finding the balance in all of it is still a work in progress.  Understanding that Jesus truly does hold the whole world in His hands makes it so much easier.  The burden falls off of my shoulders and the air seems like it is a little easier to breath.  At the end of the day, when I find myself at the foot of the throne, resting my head on Jesus' lap, and letting the world fall away, I remember that this is not my home.  All of these trials will end.  One day, I will be lifted on high, and I will find my rest in the New Jerusalem.  Until then, I have work to do and boys to raise.  When the morning comes, and all mercies are new, I will remember...

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”  - Jesus John 16:33