Dance for God ~ Jen

I never wanted Kate to dance.

I want her to smash volleyballs down the line and laugh.

I’m not kidding. Because that girl who uses her height and strength to pound a ball into the floor—that girl will not get pushed around in this world. That girl will never be a crumpled heap in a corner because of what the world did to her.

But Kate doesn’t like balls. Or smashing anything. Kate wants to dance.

So last summer, I found a dance studio in town and signed her up. It was disorganized and a bit silly, but that was ok with me because I wasn’t too serious anyhow.

I sat in the waiting room, watching my daughter on a tiny tv, listening to the other moms. They were much as I expected: catty, gossipy, whispery. Overly concerned with how big or small their daughters were in comparison with the others. The hip-hop music coming out of the big practice room was questionable. We won’t be doing hip-hop, ever I thought. One day we got an email reminding us that if our small children were a nuisance in the waiting room, we were expected to leave. I heard from a friend that some moms actually ran a dad and his toddler out the door one night.

I felt uncomfortable, but at the Christmas recital, Kate nailed it and had a wonderful time. “I LOVE dance!” she told me. We stayed.

Then in late January, the recital costumes were posted. I needed to pay $90 for something that I did not feel was appropriate for my 5 year old. I looked at what the older girls were expected to wear and saw my future—it had less and less material with every passing year. If she wanted to be serious about dance, this was not a place I was willing to make that happen.

I went home and Googled “Christian dance studio” out of desperation. I didn’t even know if such a thing existed. But it does, and right down the road from our town.

We made the switch. At the first class, I sat in front of a giant window with my daughter just on the other side. Her teacher had the girls sit in a circle and hold hands.

Then they started class with a prayer.

God sent me more Grace than I knew I needed. I wanted her in a place where modesty and grace were important. I got a place where moms and teenagers study the Bible at the studio; I’ve seen beautiful dancing to Christian music and watched kind young ladies and men mentor the little ones around them. My toddler is welcome here, with her sticky fingers and her wobbling walk. People just move around her, patting her head as they go by. The peaceful moms have smiles for every child, not just their own. I don’t sense competition, only the commitment to hold each other up. Conversations center around home school and church groups and praise choirs.

They are serious about their dance at this place, too. All the instructors are professionals, and they use the American Ballet Theater National Training Curriculum. I don’t know what that means, but there are dancers on pointe. The music is clean and Christian, even the hip-hop, and the dancers work very, very hard in their classes.

This last weekend was the recital. I knew it was going to be great. I told everyone they were going to see some beautiful dancing to great Christian music. A visual feast.

I wasn’t wrong. But I was far away from right. That’s not what happened in that theater. It wasn’t dancing.

It was worship.

The little kids were adorable in their costumes, stumbling through their dances while trying to wave at their parents.

But the older dancers, they knew what they were there for. They didn’t just dance to the songs, they felt the songs. They praised God with their arms and their legs and their spirits. They weren’t dancing for us. They were dancing for Him. And they lifted us up with them in praise and joy.

This is light years away from “Dance Moms” and mean girls.

This is about growing the gifts that God gave Kate in a way that glorifies God. This is learning that being on stage is not for her or about her, but for others, a service, a witness. This is about working for God and not for applause.

And because they were dancing for God and not themselves, they were calm, confident, spiritual.

Now I want Kate to dance with all my soul. Or at least stay with this studio long enough to learn that whatever gift she has came from God and should be offered back to Him in service and witness.

Because it’s not winning that will hold the evils of the world at bay. It’s not physical aggression that will stop her from being a crumpled heap in the corner.

That’s not what kept me safe, either.

It’s God. She has to keep her eyes on God.

www.dunamixdanceproject.com

300

We hit a milestone at Full of Graces this week: 300 followers!

We always meant to be serious about this blog, but writing is such a publicly personal experience that you kind of have to tell yourself you won’t care if no one reads your stuff. When people do read it, and share it, and comment on it, it’s pretty cool. Thanks to everyone who has joined us. We’re glad you’re here.

One unexpected bonus of this journey has been the other bloggers we’ve “met”: food folks and faith folks and fashion folks and just plain nice solid folks. We have prayed and been prayed for, shared recipes, witnessed life changing events. Talk about Grace in our lives! The blog has opened doors across the country and down the road in ways we never anticipated. We are inspired to be better writers and better spirits by these folks, to the extent that shortly we will be adding a blog roll to our home page so they can maybe inspire you as well.

And…we have a surprise. Dana’s mother-in-law is a wizard with a sewing machine. She just recently turned this gift in the direction of little girls dresses. The result has been stunning, handcrafted, boutique quality dresses that will knock your socks off.

Annnnnnnd…we get to give one away!

(Just as soon as we figure out a fair way to do that! Lol.)

So stay tuned. We have BIG things planned! Fall and football and comfort food, just to name a few.

Happy Friday!

Dana and Jen

For the Rookies, on the First Day of School ~ Jen

There’s nothing better than brand new school supplies!

At the very core of education, in your own classroom, there is nothing like the magic of educating kids. Nothing. You see moments in a kid’s life, flashes of brilliance and frustration; you hear them laugh, you see them cry. Sometimes you make them cry, and you steel your heart to their tears because you know what you are saying is for their own good.

You are mom, friend, sister; you are at once the coolest cat and the biggest bitch; you will love them, and have days where you could climb a mountain; you will hate them and have days where you wish it was still legal to spank them.

You will love their parents and you will hate their parents. You will see some beautiful souls and some souls bound for the deepest parts of hell. You will hear stories that make you believe in the human spirit, and stories that give you nightmares and make you hug your kids a little tighter. Students will lie to your face; parents will lie to your face. One day, a student will tell you a truth so terrible that you will wish they had lied. You will help them while your heart is breaking inside.

You will want to save them. You will want to take at least 20 of them home with you. Then you will realize that some kids are not meant to be saved by you. And you will cry.

You will change kids’ lives. And they will change yours. A young man will stand across the desk from you, his head down, his voice quiet, and tell you that he doesn’t think he can ever put into words the way you have changed his life. The angels will sing. Some people would go home and call that a career. But not you. You will get up and come to school the next day because that’s what you do.

All of this is true. It happened to me. And in the midst of it, I taught some English to 11th graders.

It’s such a gift, this job, but it demands your life’s blood. It’s not an “in the meantime job”. It’s a 20 hour a day, plan a year in advance, every day is a brand new challenge job.

When you’re good at it, you give your life to it. And no good teacher ever just teaches. They coach and moderate and sponsor and serve on committees and boards. They get inside as many circles of their students’ lives as possible, because good teachers know that connection is how kids succeed—when there are trustworthy adults at every turn.

You will know you are on the right track when the question of your reputation results in fierce debate between the kids who love you and the kids who hate you. Change is hard for teenagers, just like for grown ups. When you push them, they’ll push back. Stay strong. I once had a student named Jerome revise a paper 9 times to get a B and when he did, he hung that thing proudly on the fridge. And didn’t speak to me for two weeks. I was so proud of him. That’s some real learning, right there.

You will make mistakes. Tons. There’s no way to talk to 200 kids a day and not say something stupid on a fairly regular basis. When you do, just apologize. No one ever apologizes to teenagers. They will respect you forever if you own your mistakes. And they will learn from you that apologies don’t make you weak, they make you honorable.

But don’t ever let them forget that you are the queen—or king—of your classroom. Yes, the queen can be wrong. But she’s still the queen. So when they ask “Why are we doing this?” and what they mean is “Do we really have to do this?” ask them “Who am I?” By Christmas, they should know to say “You are the Queen of this classroom” and they should know that means that you are trustworthy, you are making the best decisions for them that you can, and that as a result, you will brook no lazy disagreement.

A teacher is like a farmer—we sow a lot of seeds. We don’t always get to see the fruit that grows, or the harvest because it can take years. I keep myself hidden on Facebook, but I have a few former students in my newsfeed: the doctor, the teacher, the one who works with older people, the one who joined the family business, the single mom who finished college, the single mom who is serving our country, the one who just celebrated her 10^th wedding anniversary. It is so incredible to see their smiling faces as adults, their beautiful children, their dreams coming true, their determination to do the best they can.

You will have this too, if your heart is sincere. It’s about the kids. The kids will strip you down and make you see who you really are. The kids will make you better, even the ones who make you crazy first. Maybe them most of all.

Society won’t tell you that the job you do is important, but it is. You are in charge of tomorrow.

So best of luck. And in January, when you cannot for the life of you remember why you picked this stupid f*$king job, hang on. I promise that by May you will feel much better.

Powerful Grace ~ Jen

We just got home from a wonderful vacation, courtesy of Shea and State Farm. We spent six nights at the Walt Disney World Yacht Club resort with hundreds of other rock star State Farm dads and moms and their families.

I have two stories from our trip that I want to share. This one is a Here moment. The next one is a “This stuff only happens to Jen” story. Stay tuned for that Friday. Unless you have a weak stomach.

Two years ago, we were at the same hotel for the same week at the same State Farm event. I was a year out from my cancer surgery and treatment. We had been cleared to try for our third baby, but four months had passed with no results.

Everywhere I looked there were babies and pregnant moms, and my heart ached. After four months of trying, which was longer than it took with Gabe and Kate, it was hard not to feel defeated, and angry at my cancer and my age. Shea had worked hard for the trip and the kids were super excited, so every day I took a deep breath and made my outsides look happy.

It wasn’t that hard to do, in the relaxing lap of Disney luxury and with the joyful noise of my kids’ laughter. But there was a film over that vacation that darkened it just a bit.

Thankfully, we had our third baby. Her due date was nine months to the day after we arrived at Walt Disney World.

Last week, when we walked into the lobby of the same hotel, a wave of anxiety and longing swept over me. The feeling stayed with me when we swam at the pool that night, surrounded again by babies and pregnant women. It wasn’t until the next morning, as Annie toddled around the lobby and Shea said “Look how big she’s getting” that I realized I was holding my breath, just like two years ago, waiting for something and scared that it wouldn’t happen.

But there she was, dragging her blankie across the floor and smiling up at the bell captain.

And my heart quieted. It was a moment of powerful Grace.

I have struggled with the knowledge that we could be done having kids. Even with three c-sections and cancer and postpartum anxiety and the fact that Annie just…won’t…wean, I thought maybe there would be time for one more. The longing was not as strong or loud as last time, but it was there. I prayed over the last year to know if the longing was mine alone, or placed in my heart by God. And I also asked that if another child was not in The Plan for us, could God please remove the longing from my heart?

I prayed for contentment.

I guess sacred moments don’t always happen in sacred spaces. Or maybe sacred moments make places like hotel lobbies sacred. Either way, in the middle of the Yacht Club lobby at Walt Disney World, my prayer was answered. I saw my family, and I knew it was enough. More than enough. I understood that God’s plan is for us to move on to the next phase, that there is something else coming our way.

It’s the end of the having phase of our parenting. Now we move on to the raising part.

And the space in my heart where the longing used to be is peacefully empty. It’s reserved. I don’t know for what or who, but it’s ok not to know.

I am contently*waiting for the something else while I thank God for answered prayers and moments of Grace.

*I think I made a word up right there. But you know Dana and I used to be English teachers, which totally qualifies us to make words up. For reals.

The Three F Words ~ Julie

No. Not that F word.

The last five years have been so hard for the folks in this country. Lots of endings, lots of fear. It’s easy to believe that it will never get better, never be different. It’s easy to wait for things to change.

Maybe there’s another way to see it, though. Maybe, instead of waiting, we should be jumping at opportunity.

We know that God has a plan. What if we were brave enough to ask God and ourselves this question: What is it that we really want to do?

Meet our friend Julie. In a few weeks, she and her husband and her three year old daughter are making an amazing and brave and thrilling life change. Julie asked God the question and then she embraced the answer. We hope she inspires you as much as she inspires us!

I believe in two “F” words: Faith and Fate. Is this belief strange for a Christian? Maybe, maybe not. I believe everything happens for a reason, a reason we may not understand, but maybe we’re not supposed to understand why somethings happen. Sometimes a third “F” fuels the other two “F” words to work hard in one’s life: Fear.

Around this time last year, my husband and I were making a lot of life changes that included: moving houses, adding to our family, and learning to live on one income.

We were moving houses as a temporary situation to save money for a year and I was excited. It was going to be an opportunity for me to stay at home with my daughter for the year, but also to be able to see my mom every day. It was an especially exciting time for us as we learned that we were expecting our second child after trying for almost a year.

While I had happily taught English at the high school level for six years, I needed a break or a change. I also couldn’t believe how quickly my two year old daughter was growing and how much I was missing, so I made the change that many people couldn’t imagine taking in this economy: I took a leave of absence from a career I loved.

Some people looked at me like I was crazy or even dissatisfied with my school (which I really wasn’t), but I FELT something. I felt like God was sharing His plan with me. That’s what faith is, isn’t it? Trusting in God’s plan when you just can’t conceivably understand how it will fit together. So, I fearfully/faithfully took a leave of absence from work and trusted in Him.

On June 9th, 2012 among moving boxes and Dora birthday presents, I took a test that revealed I would be carrying a second baby in the year I had chosen to stay at home. It was an exciting and surreal moment. I felt like I understood why God had aligned everything so perfectly now, it was all working out!

But, things don’t always work as expected because three weeks later, I lost the baby.

To say I was devastated is an understatement. I questioned everything, and unfortunately, even God. This is where the three “F” words come in. From my FEAR, grief and sadness over losing my precious baby, I prayed for understanding. When tested, our FAITH appears and we start to understand our FATE slowly.

After losing the baby, I became like a hermit. I didn’t want to leave the house and so I started to surf the net and also reminisce about happier times, which led me to the summer of 2008. My husband and I had traveled to Rio do Janeiro as a way to visit family and experience a new culture.The pictures were beautiful and filled with happy and carefree times. I wanted that again; I wanted to escape to a new life where I could start again. So, while my heart was slowly starting to heal, I tried for a new beginning by applying for jobs in a country thousands of miles away.

It’s beautiful, isn’t it? They call it “CidadeMaravilhosa” or the Marvelous City because of its constant motion, sounds, smells and friendly people. People from all walks of life are active throughout the day, usually near the beaches of Copacabana, Ipanema, or even Leblon. It’s going to be a busy few years for this city of roughly 6.5 million people, as they are hosting both the 2014 World Cup and the 2016 Summer Olympics.

I started remembering everything I loved about my mother’s native country and the memories gradually started putting me back together. I started emailing and researching a few schools in Sao Paulo and Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. And slowly, it started to become a true possibility. After a few months of making a dream into a reality, we did it…

We attended a job search in Atlanta, Georgia for educators interested in teaching or working in Mexico, Central, South America and the Caribbean. It really seemed as if God was pointing us in the right direction again. Once we were finally inside the meeting area with the schools, we were informed that only two of the four possible schools we had been interested in, (very few of the schools had positions open for both English and Math) still had positions for both of us. And when it was time for us to interview with a school, there was only one, Rio’s American School (the one we really wanted) who still had our positions. It was if the lord was narrowing down the choices for us. To make a long story short, they called us in January to offer us the jobs.

We don’t know what we’ll encounter or even if it’ll be easy for us, but isn’t that what faith is? When I asked my husband why he wanted to do it, he answered, “Why not? I mean there’s so much out there. There’s so much to explore and so much to see. I want our daughter to be the kind of person who wants to see the world and not be afraid to take risks.” I agree, hubby, I agree.

“Take the first step in faith. You don’t have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.”
Martin Luther King, Jr.

Julie will blog about her new life in Rio at expatsparadise.wordpress.com

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