Thoughts and a prayer for a new school year

My childhood was cherry koolaid kisses, wild hair, and sparkling eyes. As a fourth grader, I loved horses and dolls and Little House on the Prairie. I danced and painted, sang songs and memorized bible verses. I had Barbie pillows on my bed and spent hours in front of a dollhouse. My daddy was the only boy who mattered, and he still came home every day and kissed my Momma, who still came home every day and cooked supper. My parents' cell phones were connected to bags, not their hands. My sister and I read books and wrote diaries. We made mudpies and caught fish. We dressed barn cats in doll clothes and jumped around on hay bales.   We played for hours outside without anyone once wondering where we were.  We didn't spend hours on social media and YouTube, or even watching tv. We took vacations to see family and had a coloring book and a Walkman to keep us from getting bored on a 2-day car trip.  The Easter bunny left the window cracked and Santa left bootprints in the fireplace before Pinterest mandated it. My little girl heart giggled and blushed at the "romance" between the Pink Ranger and the Blue Ranger, and my favorite movie was still "Cinderella." My heart broke when I was teased at school, but I knew that I could come home where I was loved, where I was somebody's precious little girl, somebody's big sister and little cousin, and I was safe.  Ugly words scribbled on notebook paper could be torn up and thrown away, not posted for everyone to see.
As we prepare for another school year, I'm struck by just how HARD it is to grow up now. My worries and wishes in 1994 seem like bits of dandelion fluff compared to those children who even now You are preparing to send through my door on August 25th. There are still good mommas and daddies, but so many of my littles will have already learned so much about this world: the cruelty of an anonymous person on Instagram,the fear of being outside alone, the "power" of adult behavior. They've seen relationships played out on tv on all their tabloid glory, and maybe it wasn't even on tv. They've heard (and sometimes use) language that astonishes me. They are brand-concious and technology-addicted, savvy beyond their years.
But oh, Father, they are yet children, even as the world forces them to grow, grow, grow.
As we begin this school year, I pray more than anything that I can help return that lost innocence. Help me be patient when their little heart knows more than their mind should. Help me to reach behind the "selfie" and see the real child, the hurts and the struggles and the ugly that someone needs to love, despite what this culture tells them about keeping it locked away, "untagged," where no one can see it.  Help me help them navigate this tricky world they are growing up in, where even Disney tells them how to apply makeup and even my sweet fourthies are worried on picture day and screening day, where they have to step on a scale.  Help me find books that they will love, with strong girls AND boys that are culturally relevant. Oh how I wish they'd fall in love with Laura and Mary, or Henry and Ribsy, or even the Babysitter's Club, instead of Captain Underpants and the silly (can I say STUPID?) Weird School teachers! And Father, help me love their parents. It is not an easy job to raise children in a world that is anything but innocent, where it seems we are obsessed with everything but what is right, or true, or lovely; everything but what is holy. Help them realize that although I will fail, I love their precious children and I constantly strive to do my best for them. Help them understand that there are 20-something babies in that room and all of them are of equal priceless value, and therefore all of them deserve all of me, and it won't be enough some days. That's  where I will need You most.
Father, I pray for those who will teach beside me, those who will teach my future and past students. Strengthen their hearts, Lord. May they rest peacefully these last few precious days and may they know that they are just enough with You.  Ease their burdens. A teacher's heart holds so much love, but even that doesn't erase the horrors we know happen to our sweet babies.
Let me show them all love, even when it seems like it is impossible. And through my feeble attempts, let them see You. Let me be Your hands and feet this year.
In Christ's holy name,
Amen.

Romans 8:28

Ugh. It has been a while. I struggle with "teacher-blogging," because my little class is not always Pinterest-perfect. But oh well! Summer is here, and that means time to write. So excuse my wild tangents, but here we go.

Last night an old high school friend of mine showed up in my dream. I literally haven't seen this guy in probably 13 years. I always thought the world of him because he was so nice, even though I was just a mousy 8th grader. Through some unfortunate circumstances, he moved and I never knew what happened to him until a few years ago (thank you facebook!). Anyway, I said a little prayer when I woke up, thanking God that he had been able to chase his dreams and do wonderful things, despite what others had done to hurt him. Feeling a little self-righteous, I started to say amen, but then I felt that tickle in my heart. You know that "I'm-not-done-with-you-yet" stop and wait part? Yeah, I'm not so good with that part. So here I am, staring at the ceiling, and God pokes my heart and says, "What about the ones who hurt him?" My judgmental little heart said, "Oh no. Uh-uh! I don't care!" And more waiting..."Well, ok God, I hope you bless her and put someone in her life and all that Jesus-stuff, even though I don't like her..." I'm not feeling so proud of myself, anymore.  It has been a long time, but I still don't like mean people. Especially people who aren't unrepentant enough for me! But I don't like judgmental people either, and I am certainly wearing a black robe this morning! And seriously, I haven't seen these people in YEARS, God. I don't know if I would recognize them on the street, and if I did, it would probably be an awkward wave and that's all! I wait a little longer, still half-asleep. In fact, maybe I fell back asleep. (I once read that you should never be ashamed to fall asleep in your prayers, because what better place to sleep than in the arms of the Father. Isn't that a lovely thought?)
So after waking up and pondering more, I'm starting to get it. This was never about a dream, or the people in it, but my heart. I've had a hard, hard year. One of those where you have been so discouraged and disappointed it feels like physical exertion just to keep your head up. I've had AMAZING professional accolades, but I am going to be honest when I say that I just couldn't get it together, for most of the year. So I toughened up and tried to just "survive." Sounds like a good plan, except I have toughened up my heart, too. Isn't that just depressing? With a few days of summer behind me, I can't help but be mad at myself. I had another opportunity to let God work in my life, and I think I messed it up. But that's ok, because thankfully, He isn't finished. I will hold on to the promise of Romans 8:28. And although I need this summer, I am not going to promise next year will be better. I'm going to promise to hold tighter to Jesus, so I will be better. Oh Father, don't leave me like you found me!