A Daycare in the Life.

Working at a daycare is simultaneously super fun and super humbling.  My severe lack of patience and my strong tendency to be quick to anger has led me to apologize to every single kid in my class...on more than one occasion.

I've found that the balance between tenderness and motherly affection and stern discipline out of love is found in Jesus alone.

I've babysat/nannied since I was twelve, so I was fairly confident that I was able to not react completely from my flesh in regards to disrespectful and bratty kids.  But I have, and I do.  And unfortunately, will probably do it again today.

I've never gotten "no" as a response this many times in one day.  I've also never been told "I don't apologize" or "I never have to share."

I've also never been told I look twelve or forty-eight years old in one day.  But that's another story.

However, I've never heard "I love you Miss Kayla" or "You're pretty" more than I hear it from my students.

The Lord has convicted me and blessed me through this job in such a unique way.  I've had to depend on His patience, His grace, and His strength minutely.

I thought I'd share some of what goes on in this chaotic classroom:

I get lots of sudden illnesses for which I need immediate medical attention.

Crafts abound.  All day every day.

I get my nails done and my order taken all at one stop.  Shmancy and convenient.

So. Much. Mancala.

Why Babysitting is Going to Make Me a Better Mom.

Preface:  

I am not a mom yet. But I am terribly excited and nervous about stepping into that role.  As I prepare for marriage, and since life belongs to God, simultaneous preparation for motherhood is essential.

I babysat for a wonderful couple a few nights ago after (and before) talking with the wisest woman I know.

Their little man is active, cuddly, selfish, wild, and inquisitive--and is the by far the best I've seen at going to bed when I put him down.  A+, Turner's. 

See what I mean by inquisitive?  "What is that? What is that?" 

And I love that he definitively tells me it's not a bird he hears.

Though I am not his mother and do not get to spend time with him day in and day out, I do see glimpses of his innate sin and his God-given gifts. 

(i.e. His cuddling abilities are superb. When he's in my lap and I'm reading to him, he reaches one or both of his chubby arms up and rubs a few strands of my hair between his tiny fingers. Darn close to Heaven.)

He really is such a good toddler, but I am legitimately tired after he falls asleep, after only being with him for a few hours.  My fatigue coupled with Dave and Lauren's thankfulness for some time alone together makes me realize how vital it will be to rely on my church to spend time with my kids so my husband and I can spend time as a couple.

Being a first-born, Type-A, "perfectionist", I am prone to self-sufficiency. The notion of impossible independence and self-reliance are sins with which I wrestle.  I know the Gospel, and know that self-righteousness is antithetical to that message, but yet I still fear failing.  

(So perhaps giving grace to those who have knowledge but not yet behavior modification would be Christ-like?)

I do not want my children to see me being perfect.  I want them to see me as I am; as Jesus died for me--needy, dependent, and broken. 

I want my children to see the incredible blessing and vitality of being a part of a church body.  I want them to see that I am not fully capable of handling them every day.  I want them to witness young people who are following Jesus and seeking older, wise council.  I want them to see that marriage requires consistent, intentional commitment and work.  

I am grateful that I have been graciously given up-close examples of families who rely on Jesus.  I am grateful that babysitting makes me presuppose on my sinfulness as a mother and wife, and my continual need for the promise of Jesus. 

Peeing on the Playground.

Being a NC Teaching Fellow, fulfilling my requirements includes having ten hours (it is always, and should be, more) of field experience every semester.  Field experience can be observing/volunteering in a classroom, tutoring, or working with outside-of-school academic programs.  I much prefer time in a classroom–it has shown me, in an unique manner, the realities of school, teachers’ responsibilities, administrators, teaching strategies, students’ struggles, and adults’ efforts to alleviate issues.

On Monday and Tuesday I visited a Kindergarten classroom at a local school.

In this particular classroom, there was a student that had entered Kindergarten just the week prior–he was an Honduras native and an ESL student. *William had moved to America with his mother several ago.

Fortunately I have had awesome Spanish teachers in elementary school through high school, and so I was able to communicate with William--read: I know some vocab words and know how to loosely form simple sentences/phrases.  Fortunately, between me working closely with him and the luxury of having an ESL classmate who is bilingual in Spanish and English, William was able to complete most of his work.

Like any six-year-old, he loves running around on a playground. So going to “el parque” was the most exciting part of the day for William.  On Monday, as the students were walking in a single-file line (I was walking with him and holding his hand…I’m a sucker), as soon as he saw the playground, he began pointing and yelling to me that he was going to go “…en el parque! En el parque, mizz Kayla!”  

I could have died. His sweet face lit up as he squeezed my hand tighter.

The next day, as we were walking to the playground again, as soon as the slides and swings were in sight, he started shouting about “el parque” again.  But this time he let go of my hand and bolted ahead toward the rock wall–yes, rock wall. Since when do public school playgrounds get rock walls? I was gypped.

As soon as I thanked the Door Holder for holding the gate door for me, the teacher’s assistant rushed over to me to “stop William!” Apparently, before he could reach the rock wall, William’s bladder failed him and he relieved himself…not in his pants.

Fortunately, by the time he was in my sight he was fastening his belt.  I explained to him as best I could that “el parque no es el baño”, and that if he ever has to use the bathroom, he must go “en la escuela.” I then asked the bilingual student to make sure William knew that he could never use the bathroom outside, but must always use the restroom in the classroom.   When William understood, I was asked to take him back to the classroom to tell his teacher what had happened.

On our long walk back to the classroom, I asked William again if he understood why we had to leave the playground.  He did, and he replied “lo siento, mizz Kayla.”  My heart broke as I assured him it would be okay and that no one was angry with him. 

His teacher handled the situation and showed William where the bathroom was…she will be working with him on closing the door when he uses “el bano.”

I couldn’t help but think about this in a spiritual context. I like analogies, I’m sorry.

How many times does this happen in the church? In Christian homes? Where a child or a new believer is so excited about their salvation and Jesus’ work…the “basic” aspects of Christianity, and we shoot them down by telling them (or thinking) they are young and naive.  We see them as spiritually inferior.

They get so thrilled they pee in their pants and we embarrass them and tell them to stop, when they simply naturally responded to how awesome Jesus is.

I want my kids to pee in their pants when I tell them the Gospel story.

I hope I never stifle my children’s joy over what Jesus has done for them. I pray I am humbled by their love for the Lord.  May God grow a child-like love for Him in my heart.

Hattie Jo & Norah

I get to spend my Sunday evenings with, hands down, the cutest 2-year-old little girls on the planet.

These girls love [my] purses, scarves, and sunglasses, they will laugh forever, & they love their mommies. We have a lot in common :)

Hattie Jo and Norah are the daughters of two of the families that are moving to Greensboro, NC to plant Mercy Hill Church.

Mercy Hill has a team of singles, couples, and families who have tasted and seen the necessity and sufficiency of Jesus’ work in their own lives, and desire it for other people. So in response to this Gospel and by the Spirit’s leading, the Mercy Hill team will be moving to Greensboro this spring. Yay/Boo.

Bradley and I have been blessed by Jeremy and Julianne Dager.

Jeremy disciples Bradley, Bradley and I get free wisdom and meals, and I get to enjoy their precious little girl. This is not a give-and-take relationship.

Andrew Hopper will be the lead pastor at Mercy Hill, and will be serving alongside his wife Anna and their two little ones, Hattie Jo and AP (he hangs out with Mommy on Sunday nights…two 2-year-olds can be plenty).

I can’t believe I get paid money to hang out with these two sets of chubby cheeks every week.

These girls are smart, apologetic, tender-hearted, and are by far the best huggers I’ve ever seen. My prayer for them is that the Lord would be faithful to them through their parents and church to preach the sufficiency of Jesus and the work He has prepared for us–that it would seep into the deepest corners of their hearts and lives. Pray with me for the Mercy Hill team–that they are in awe of and a part of the spread of the Gospel among the city of Greensboro, and their worship and adoration of our Risen King would be multiplied.