Too Damn Nosy....

"Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss people." 

Eleanor Roosevelt

One of my favorite pastimes since moving to this country is to read the crime section in the Arabian Times or the Kuwait Times (two English language papers in the area). The blotter is written like an American celebrity magazine with the strangely weird, the minor celebrity plug, or the disturbing images of crime that happens to maids and hired help. When I run across an interesting story that catches my eye, I have to find someone to tell. I don't know why! Maybe it is human nature.

The same can be said about interesting news that happens to ex-pats in this area. The circle of teachers and contractors is tiny. Spend an evening at a major event and you will probably run into some teacher who hooked up with some contractor, who may be dating that person's ex who works at another school. And you can try to be above it all and ignore the information, but you can't help but listen. Being honest, I do take a moment and think, "who can I tell about this?" Most times I ignore it, but honestly, the longer I stay here, the more nosy I have become.

I used to not be this way.

My co-workers in the past would mostly say that I tried my best to not be in the mix of information. It didn't win me a lot of friends, but it shored up a reputation that I could be trusted, and that I wasn't a gossip. It made for many lonely lunches at times, but I was simply happy to not be in the middle of all the drama. My focus was always on my clients, my students, my family. If I told anything it was to my best friends who live in Central Indiana and Texas. Sometimes it was a great relief to spill stuff about the crazy adults I worked with, knowing that those two trusted people did not know who I was talking about. I talked to my mom a lot, because she always managed to bring insight and honesty when I just needed to talk. Although they are only a phone call away, its not the same. You have to factor in work schedules and time differences, life differences.

Its different here because the people you work with, you also live with, ride with, and hangout with on the weekends. Its not the same because at times you just want to talk to somebody about the crazy of the day who knows exactly what you are going through. You develop quick bonds because you may have been on the same plane together, you work on the same floor, or you are neighbors. The lines get blurry almost too quickly. Conversations begin to merge dangerously between the facts and the opinions.  It's a scary place to be; especially when you used to be a person who could physically separate out work relationships with personal relationships.

Today was my day that I fully became a gossip.

It happened innocently enough. We were talking about some directive that came in the wake of a little scandal. I mentioned that it had been a crazy week, and because I assumed that every knew because I was normally late to the gossip dance, I spilled the beans on someone else's issue. Then I allowed speculation to happen to go along with it. When I got off the bus, and reached my apartment, I realized that in less than 2 minutes I became a 14 year old teenager again.

That scared the crap out of me. It really did.....

Because at the end of the day, you don't want to be known as a person who is a gossip. The ex-pat world is too small to be seen as that kind of person.  The struggle, however, is how to separate yourself from it when its hard to keep personal away from professional. No amount of training can prepare you for that. I constantly have to tell myself something that my mother has always told me: "Remember who you are and whose you are."

I can't reverse my mistake. Some may even say that its not that big of a deal. But whenever I start to feel pieces of my spirit and character begin to be chipped away, it is a big freakin' deal. I want to be known as a great mind, a great person, and a woman of good character. I know now that this will be a big issue for me to overcome. But all I can do is accept my faults, move forward, and keep my damn mouth shut.

Thanksgiving Blues.... and Happiness

"If a fellow isn't thankful for what he's got, he isn't likely to be thankful for 

what he's going to get." 

Frank A. Clark

I admit that this week I have not been in the best of moods. I was also full of gas, so I do wonder if the two go hand in hand. I thought it was PMS, but that wasn't true. I thought that it was all the rain we had this week, which might have been a partial reason, but not the full reason. Then I realized....it's the holiday season. 

For me, good, bad, or indifferent, holiday's equal family. I was talking with a friend of mine today, and realized that in my 34 years, I have always managed to spend Thanksgiving with family. That is a long track record, even for adults. There are traditions tied to this day for me; there are smells, sounds, and sweaters that made me happy. Even when I'm ready to choke my parents for running late, or sitting in traffic on the way to Wisconsin laughing with my brother,Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays. 

My Thanksgiving last year, I knew that I was going to go overseas. A couple of months prior, I went to see The Help with my mom, and at the end of the movie, watching Viola Davis walk away from her career and begin to live her life fully, I felt what her character was feeling: a sense of uncertainty about a new path, but understanding that it was her time to move on. Despite all the drama and the stress of my last job, I loved it. I also knew that I could have stayed there forever. But I did feel that it was just my time to go. And when you love what you do to let it go for an unknown future, all you can say to God is please help me understand and trust.

That year I went to Wisconsin with my mom and dad. My dad was a classic backseat driver, my mom was nervous about traffic, and I wanted to scream because we were leaving an hour later than what I wanted to. When we finally did get on the road, everyone relaxed a little bit, I put on music that managed to make my parent's happy, and we made it to dinner about 2 hours late. However, the ride back was my best memory. My dad sat up front with me, and we ended up taking Highway 41 back to Indiana due to a traffic accident coming back into the Chicago area. Figuring out where to go without the aid of a GPS or Onstar, we were in our element. Although it was a drive about an hour longer than what it needed to be, the time spent laughing and talking with my dad and my mom dozing in the back, made me happy. Being able to drive my parent's around was refreshing.

For me that is what holidays are all about. I could dwell in the things that frustrate me so about going to relative houses, or the traffic, or any number of things that manage to piss me off a little bit about the holiday season. But the memories I cherish our those simple moments that just bring a smile to my face. I am thankful for that, because it is those memories that sustain me during times when I'm feeling a little blue and homesick. Those are also the times that help me appreciate even more the opportunities that have come into my life in this present, and what is going to happen in my future. 

As I am writing this, my mom is probably baking zucchini bread or some dessert. The turkey my dad always slow roasts on the grill has been on there since they went to church this morning. My brother DJ and his family are probably going to Lena's parent's first and then manage to do a lot of drive-by's. Tanisha and the kids are getting ready to go spend this holiday with my maternal side of the family. I'm missing out on family friendly jokes, video games, and food, food, food. But I am thankful for those memories. I am thankful for their prayers and encouragement.  But I am also so thankful for where my life is, where it is going, and the adventure and blessings that await. Being thankful for everything is what this life is all about. I am truly grateful and thankful. 

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.   

The Skin I'm In

"What spirit is so empty and blind, that it cannot recognize the fact that the foot is more noble than the shoe, and skin more beautiful than the garment with which it is clothed?"

Michelangelo

So I must admit that I enjoy my job. I get to meet interesting students, network with colleges, work with a staff that can go from Arabic to English in a millisecond.... For a girl who has loved being in diverse places all of her life, this job is a little bit of living out a dream.

On the other hand, the reality that plaques even the most privileged and comes up so often is the issue of race and shade. I was talking with a student today who comes from privilege but feels that she isn't pretty because of she does not look like her family. If they were in the US, her parents would probably be mistaken as Hispanic or mixed heritage, while she appears white. On the ever important college applications, students are confused about what to mark as their race. Are they white? Are they Asian? Are they more than just an Other? What to mark?

I was very naive to think and believe that in a country where all different shades exist, that the hangups of race  would not be an issue. It's not really race as much as it's shade of skin.

I think back into the history of countries like the USA, like South Africa, that the shade of skin determined your place in life. The lighter the skin, the better off you would be to society; but among your race, depending on the time in history, the lighter the skin the less black you were. Heaven forbid if you used complete sentences or did not dress a certain way. I know that a significant part of my life among classmates, and even among some family, white girl was the moniker given to me. But it took my parents, and my faith to help me become comfortable with who I was. Although my life and views are ever evolving, I have learned to embrace my skin tone, my shade.

I don't know what to say to students when this issue comes up. I am normally at a loss of words because I know how they feel about shade of skin. And the goal in conversations with students is to not sound like a greeting card or a commercial. I do ask them how does that make them feel, or how do they overcome. But I also share a piece of wisdom that I feel that has been shared with me. That is simply that yes people see the outside and make assumptions, positive and negative. But it takes a strength, patience, wisdom, and a little bit of time for people to see and understand the kind of person you are. That is the lasting impression that matters. Not exactly the skin that you are in. 

Same Same....But Different

"People are pretty much alike. It's only that our differences are more susceptible to definition than our similarities." 

Linda Ellerbee

It was 2:30 pm and the bell just rang in the high school as students prepared to head for home. Normally, students hang out in the counseling office, or in the hallways and stairwells waiting for clubs or sports activities. But today was a bit different because after school activities were cancelled due to a large summit in Kuwait City. Highways and byways will be blocked; the commute home just a bit longer than usual.

I was in my supervisors office just talking to him for a moment, and we both stared out the picture frame window that overlooks the parking lot of the high school. We watched as our students got into the backs of their fancy cars, watching their nannies struggle with their backpacks, getting ready to head home. A sight unfamiliar to both of us because we did not grow up with privilege. In all honesty, I think my life was more privileged than his, but both of our families struggled to make things better for us.

Its in times like this that I think about my students at West Gary the most. I admit that I was very close to my students. Almost taking on a big sister, motherly role in a way. For some reason God blessed me this ability to have a heart for them while also not letting up when they made poor choices. I truly loved my students, and I truly miss them, but at the same time I know that they are well because I am doing well.

I continue to look out the window at the groups of students walking to the local bakala (convenience store). I remarked to my friend that although they may have money, there are many similarities between these students and in my former students who seem to not have as much. They are Same Same, But Different (a phrase used locally to describe how certain things are similar, in clothing, in food, in life). For example:

Uniform violations are a daily thing- Same Same. Kids here try to rock hats with their uniforms, they hate the colors, and try every possible way to add their own twist of fashion to what they are wearing. The different part is that they can wear whatever shoes they want while my former students did but got in trouble for them.

Sneaking to the store or getting food before, during, and after school- Same Same. My former students were famous for sneaking to the local gas station before getting on the bus or as soon as the bus hit the school building, or their parents/family friends/even teachers would make restaurant runs for them because lunch normally sucks. The students here do the exact same thing, except the difference here is that instead of going to the gas station up the street like my former students, they have their corner stores or have their help go get their items.

Ditching in the counselor office- Same Same. As hard as I tried with my students at West Gary, they knew exactly the right thing to say to hang in my office and get out of class. Or stop by on the way to the bathroom, or their locker, or leaving the principal's office. No difference. The kids here do the same, except the load is shared with two brilliant co-workers and an Egyptian mom in the form of the office secretary.

Talking in class, all the time- Same Same. The biggest issue I have heard from teachers is that students constantly talk all the time. They never seem to know when to shut up. That goes for the students in Kuwait and my former students at home. The only difference is that here the students do know how to be quiet during testing.

Concern for each other- Same Same. Students here and at home just seem to be able to put differences to the side when things get rough. We recently had a student whose parent died in their sleep. The outpouring of support and love towards the kid was unparalleled  except for when my former students took care of each other in the face of tragedy. The openness in their spirit is just amazing, no matter who their families are or what side of town they live on. No difference.

My excitement in their goals and dreams- Same Same. I never thought that there would be room in my heart for another set of kids, with another set of hopes and dreams, but somehow my spirit gets fed even more when they share what they want to accomplish, or finish a task or a plan that they spent time in putting together coming to light. The only difference is that I know I am missing out on soo much back at home, but embracing all the new that is set before me.

Through it all, it is because of my former students that I am able to be a part of this experience. They are probably the biggest reason that I have embraced who I am as an educator/counselor and held on to pieces of me that are the same, but given me enough faith to know that my path just simply had to be different. 

Call to Prayer

"Prayer is not asking. It is a longing of the soul. It is a daily admission of one's weakness. It is better in prayer to have a heart without words, then words without  a heart." 

Mahatma Gandhi

My eyes fluttered open at 3:30am. I know because I stared at my bedside clock, figuring out how long it will be before my alarm goes off (2 hours). So I laid in bed willing myself to go back to sleep, and then I hear a voice from outside: It's time for today's call to prayer. Now I can't go back to sleep.

So I open my windows and listen to the voice blaring outside from a tower not faraway from my home. I look down on the streets of Hawalli, watching men scramble towards the mosque a few blocks away. There is a glimpse of the the sky beginning to lighten over the horizon of the Gulf,  and I begin to wonder: why do they pray so much?

Living in this Muslim country, it still amazes me the number of times a practitioner of this faith goes into prayer. The Adhan (Call to Prayer) is the first thing that you do in the morning, and last thing you do when you go to bed. According to Beliefnet.com, having someone call others to prayer was approved by the Muslim prophet as a way to gather everyone together. The person who does it has to have a beautiful, clear voice. The more melodious of the voice, the more beautiful the Adhan. Praying five times a day is one of the pillars of Islam. With each prayer there are movements and supplications one must do. As a follower stated through CNN's Belief Blog, you stop what you doing and you pray making sure that you are doing the right things.

Now, I am not typing this to say I am converting or anything, but I think there is a point to all of this from a Christian point of view. Taking time to truly pray to God often can be a wonderful practice. Maybe some of you who read this blog may already do their own version of the Adhan in their daily life. I know that one of my faults is that I don't do a full on my knees prayer everyday. I pray in the shower, while I walk, sometimes at my desk, but I see those things as sometimes being a little lazy. But getting on your knees praying to God, can be a wonderful thing.

I remember as a kid having to recite the Lord's Prayer in church, and thinking that why did Jesus have to pray? Isn't he God? But even looking at that prayer, it was about praising, thanking and supplication. I do not profess to be Bible scholar. Actually, some of my Christian acquaintances believe I am a little to "liberal" with my point of view of faith, but ultimately I do feel that there is something that we can learn from a little bit more prayer discipline.

I do not know if I will start praying five times a day and use the prayer room that the school provides to students and staff. I know that I am not planning to convert. But I do know that when I rolled out of my bed at 4am this morning and got on my knees, I was grateful to do it. And maybe the loud speaker call to prayer for Muslims, can be integrated into my own walk of faith. Maybe if I take the mind out of prayer and bring in more of my heart, my call to prayer will be just as beautiful as the voice that rings out over the streets of my home here in Kuwait. 

No Sex in the City =)

"Dating is about finding out who you are and who others are. 

If you show up in a masquerade outfit, neither is going to happen."

Henry Cloud

So I must admit that as I prepared to make this journey to a new land I did have the thought that maybe God is sending me here to find my husband. At least that was the opinion of a lot people that I met as I prepared for this journey. It didn't make sense to those outside of my family that a single, non-military woman of Christian faith will willingly just show up to a foreign country on her own with no family. SHE MUST BE IN SEARCH FOR A HUSBAND!

I remember various conversations from women that I met during the summer:
"Wow, you're going to Kuwait and your single? God is going to bless you with a husband."
"A Muslim guy doesn't date to date, they date to marry. That will be good for you."
"I had a friend who went overseas, and met her husband as soon as she landed," (I heard several of those stories).
"You're still young, you will find the right guy for you there," (just a reference to my age).
Even my mom (who didn't have much of an opinion on dating) got into the act a little bit, "I just don't want to have a Not Without My Daughter Incident."
 Etc., etc. etc.

I do admit that as much as people talked, I did allow the little phrases and quotes seep into my mind. I can't help it, I am girl. And although I try to ignore the hopeless romantic in me, I still have this latent hope that I will be blessed with a husband, a guy truly designed just for me. On the other hand, the cynic in me feels that will never happen or that I will fall in love with some random guy who uses me for an American citizenship.

So imagine my shock last week when I actually had intelligent men (yes, multiple) flirt with me that were not American or taxi drivers and secure in their jobs and citizenship (I haven't had a week like that since....Well it's been awhile). I even went on a date last week, which was a very traditional date that I have only read about in my secret chick lit folder on my kindle: Guy picks girl up on time in clean vehicle. Guy opens all doors during the date. Guy laces flirty phrases with good conversation. Guy delivers girl home in one piece with no funny business. Guy wants to go out again. I think the nicest part was the fact that I was not accosted at the end of the date, something that as an American girl we tend to get used to, or figure out a quick exit plan in case something like that happens. If this is dating in the Middle East, I'll take it.

But unfortunately  it's not that easy. Because at the end of the day in this country or any country, you have to figure out the intentions of the people you go out with, along with your own. Because honestly if the guy is Muslim, they do date for marriage and companionship. And although the American point of view is a more in the school of hit and quit it when it comes to dating, my perspective is filtered through the prism of my faith and my family.  So I have to figure out what my intentions are, who I am as a woman, and who I would like to be in a relationship.

I do think back to my last serious relationship, and being in the space of distance and time, you reflect on who you were in that relationship, and who you do not want to be in the next one. Was I fully, truly myself? Were they? Hindsight being 20/20, what would you do differently? But the thing about the past is that its best to learn from it and move forward than moving backwards always. What I did learn about myself is that I have got to speak up and say what I feel, damn the consequences.

And that will be my approach here. I think that as long as I am truly, authentically myself, I will be the better person for it. My best relationships stem from my honesty and my vulnerability. That is just me, and that will not change. But what I will not do is date with a big blinking light on my forehead flashing "Looking for husband." I instead will allow myself to be open to meeting people, and being my true authentic self.

Social Class and Acceptance

"We must stop thinking of the individual and start thinking about what is best for society."

Hillary Clinton

I started this week getting my first paycheck. Although I knew my amount (I did agree to what was in my contract), the realization that I could pay down my debt while also not living on noodles and tuna during my time here became a little heavy. So much so that I haven't had the courage to even touch my paycheck or do anything yet.

With the discussion of first pay comes the discussion of plans for the first pay. Several people are now making plans for their trips during the holiday in October and going home for Christmas. Others are doing the numbers game like I am figuring what needs to go home and what needs to stay, to take care of student loans, mortgages, and family responsibilities. But the other discussion that people have been having has been centered around getting maids.

I have thoughts about the whole maid thing. Having someone come into my apartment to clean up after me I think is a little lazy. It's just me, and although I tend to get a little junky, I keep a clean house. The fear of roaches and little bugs appearing because of my laziness is the biggest thing that prevents me from totally trashing a place and leaving food out regularly. The other issue I have is just this thought of employing someone to do cheap labor. I didn't even realize that feeling until I was talking with a friend this week.

So of course I called my mom, and of course she supplied some wisdom into the whole perspective. She reminded me about the research I conducted prior to coming here about how I told her that there were distinct differences in workers in this economy, and how I said people here get paid very little and that many take on these jobs to send money home to their families. Then she started to talk about the Jeffersons, and how Florence was a friend to the family, although she gave them lip, she just wanted to be respected for her work. At the end of the day, its my job to help someone and treat them with dignity and pay fairly to do work that helps their family.

There are definite class distinctions here. The Kuwaitis really do not work because of their investments in oil and in other areas. But the working class scale goes as such: Westerners are here to educate and help build industry, South Asians provide the retail customer service help, and Indian/Sri Lankan/Bangladesh workers do the labor (there is a different category in regards to taxi drivers, which I will have to write about later). It is the Indian/Sri Lankan workers that have it pretty bad, getting paid maybe 2KD (about $6.50) a week to do the hard labor. Many depend on the maid jobs just to send money home.

I thought about that all weekend as I looked at the country where I am living and working. I even shopped at a yard sale to help with a cause that supplies clothes, shoes, food, and tickets home to the workers who can't afford to. Every little bit that I do, really truly has an impact on someone else.

Although I have not hired a maid yet, I am going to do it. I need to get over myself and realize that I am doing my part to help society here. It's just odd to me that I have never been in a financial position to do just that. 

Take a Walk

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by, 

and that has made all the difference." 

Robert Frost

I come back into my air conditioned, furnished apartment in search of a bottle of water; only to realize that the one thing I left my apartment for I did not get. But received the clarity that I soo needed.

I was frustrated when I decided to go for a walk today. Living in my yellow western ex-pat tower, with views overlooking the suburb of Hawalli, I looked down at all the men heading to service this morning. And here I am, the only person in my building that tends to naturally wake-up before 7am. 

I was frustrated because I do feel like a bit of a loaner. As much as I enjoy meeting people, and even hanging out on occasion, I do prefer the company of a good book and a glass of iced tea (my substitute for wine since this is a dry county). But its easy to enjoy your own company in the US when you have your own car, access to multiple choices, and the comfort in knowing that help is never that far away if you need it.  It was this morning when it finally set in that something is missing or lacking in my life. The good book travels well with an old school kindle, there are multiple choices within my area, if you're willing to endure sexual harassment from taxi drivers. But the one thing I am missing is the confidence in the help that is present in my life here. 

My confidence at the beginning of this journey in my life stemmed from my faith in God, my family, and the extremely close friends who know my fears and desires. And although I can call on the Lord whenever and wherever, I can't call my friends or drop by on my family anytime I want. And slowly I realized that I was starting to lose my confidence in my being here and in myself. So I said to my inner spirit, "Get up Chris, take a walk."

I took my shower, put on some black jogging pants and a black t-shirt with my bug eye shades. I reached into my fridge to get a bottle of water, forgetting that I ran out of it last night. But, I threw my braids into a ponytail and threw some headphones into my ears, and I walked anyway. 106 degrees of dry heat but I left the protected comfort of my apartment to venture out into my neighborhood, to get some water at least. I followed the cars, and the people to find myself on a main road. Because I blocked out the noises of the honking horns and disrespectful men, I was able to pay attention to the things around me. Like the fact that there is a pet shop around the corner where I sometimes grab a bite to eat. Or the location of another international school that seems to sit behind the road where I live. That there are three bakala's (convenience stores) near my home and school. To eventually ending up in Kuwait's version of a TJ Maxx. 

When I left the store (after making a couple of purchases) I found myself in the middle of a large group of men heading towards their cars after prayer. And although it made me a little nervous, I walked to the side and with some distance. And the men who even looked my way, gave me a nod of respect and didn't interrupt my path. Even rounding the corner to my home, and I catch some guy in a red Mercedes honking at me, trying to get my attention, I ignored him (although what I really wanted to do was flip him the finger like I was back at home). Instead, I went down a side alley to make sure he didn't see where I lived.

When I got back into my apartment, I realized that I needed that walk. I needed to be able to begin to trust my instincts again and appreciate what is around me. That I am truly blessed to be here, and that this road less traveled is the best thing for me. My confidence will always stem from my faith; I know that my family and true friends will support me wherever I am; but trust in others and this situation can only truly happen when I begin to trust fully in myself. Now its time to go get some water.

Entering the World of International Counseling

"....Then make me truly happy by agreeing wholeheartedly with each other, loving one another, and working together with one mind and purpose." Philippians 2:2


This week, I went to my first official overseas training for my new position in Kuwait City, Kuwait. I was tired but excited because it would mean meeting my co-worker for the first time in person, and really learning more about college counseling and being prepared for the added responsibilities of working with students overseas. It was a jam packed week from the time I landed and traveled to Georgetown University, to even now. I am actually looking forward to tomorrow because I will have a day to myself. To just breathe and relax, before going back home for the summer. 


But it's in these moments, these kind of weeks, when you realize the bigger plan that God places in front of you. Why at this moment, at this time in my life, that this is happening. Or even the realization that those storms that I went through a couple of years ago was because of the sun shining down right now. The biggest thing that I was happy to see is that I was surrounded by the world for a week. Over 50 school counselors, working and representing every continent (except for Antarctica), working together for one common purpose with one mind: helping students. I cannot say that I didn't have that where I worked, but I can say that right now, my heart and needs were needed on a larger scale.


So I created a list of 10 things that I got from the week, besides all the lectures (in no particular order):

• Washington, DC is the perfect place for international counseling. I mean it is a melting pot. Just walking on campus for the week, you didn't feel out of place because of the wealth of cultures that were around you.
• Everybody has Facebook (except for the Chinese). I knew that Facebook was popular, but even counselors who work in Sudan or the Congo have Facebook. WTH?
• Health insurance is a wonderful thing. I got sick this week, and ended up going to the emergency room. Thank goodness my health insurance didn't expire yet. And thank goodness that antibiotics only cost $8 with a pharmacy card. 
• I am glad that I have an Iphone. For years I avoided the Apple/PC debate by having an android phone. But I am glad that I recently purchased an unlocked Iphone because it is the main path to communication overseas. The apps are easy to function, the phone works great, everyone was using theirs....STOP! I don't want to sound like a commercial.
• No matter the race, fact one: Even as an adult, if the stuff is boring, people are falling asleep, or
• No matter the race, fact two: Even as an adult, if the stuff is boring, people played on their cellphones or on their computers, or, 
• No matter the race, fact three: Nothing unites and ticks off a group of bored adults more than the wifi not working in a building.
• Meeting people on Facebook great/Meeting people in person and they are just as fabulous than their Facebook personality, priceless. I met my co-worker Issa this week, and I am so glad to officially force my parents to adopt him into our family. We are of similar mind and bring a good balance I think. Lookout Kuwait!
• Nothing is more fun than riding a metro train with a virgin. After going shopping with women from Qatar, Honduras, and Mexico, we decided to take the Metro back to campus. The woman from Qatar never rode the metro. It was great, and her reaction was just as wonderful. 
• It is definitely a small world after all. I mean that by saying that all of us this week truly had common experiences, no matter where we are from. And to be in this new community that respects that just makes this experience even larger. 
• Bonus: we love our old students. I wasn't the only one showing pictures of my students here in the United States. I will miss them terribly, but I am excited about this time in my life. 

I made friends this week. Not acquaintances, but actual friends that I know I will have to communicate with because we are part of this bigger picture global community where we have to trust one another or this work will not work. I already made travel plans for the year, and have places to crash wherever I go. I am truly grateful for being part of community that is all about working together for one mind and one purpose. 

Reality is beginning to set in.....

"Life is full of surprises and serendipity. Being open to the unexpected turns in the road is an important part of success. If you try to plan every step, you may miss those wonderful twists and turns. just find your nect adventure- do it well, enjoy it- and then, not now, think about what comes next." Condoleeza Rice


This past week has been crazy. It's getting to be the end of the school year, and I am beginning to say goodbye to my students and parents. I don't care too much about some of many of my co-workers, but my students (most) and their parents (again most) are the ones I am going to miss dearly. But I have been ok with all of this until two things happened: getting my ticket and packing up my office.


When you have been in one place for five years, you accumulate a lot of stuff, both physical and emotional. It's easy to identify which files need to be thrown out, or which books to keep and which ones to sale. But it's not so easy to let go of things that have more of a value. For instance, I have this painting that has been hanging in my office since 2008 made by students in my self-esteem group. I was so proud of them completing it, that it hung in the front office for a minute. But as soon as I heard that they were taking it down, I decided to keep it for myself. Do I have space in my new home for this memory? 


Or its just the little things that come-up as you begin to pack an office that were more so the students than it was my own. The containers, plates, pots and spoons for cooking. The music for those days when I couldn't get online and they needed to focus. The pennants and posters of colleges that I took them to. ... 


The other reality nail hit that same day. My DHL package arrived with my ticket and visa. My official date to leave on the steps of my parent's house. I was dropping off my niece and nephew when I saw it. My mom came outside to meet us, and I go, "That's it." She says, "What is it?" I said, "My ticket and visa." Then my mom got really quiet. Then I started to get misty....


I have been really thinking about the excitement and the new opportunities that this job change will bring into my life, but I haven't allowed myself the time to think about what I am going to miss. Until now. And although I am ready to move on, I also acknowledge I am going to start missing all of these little things that I have everyday: my random calls to my mom, students in my office constantly, having a key to my school building and working anytime I want. Wearing shorts. Stuff like that. But again, if this were to not happen, the doors to this life would not have been opened.


The reality is this for me: I think God has a plan for all of us, and it comes into play when we get comfortable at a stage He has placed us in. Because I don't think, for some of us anyway, that we are meant to stay still and get too comfortable. My reality is that I needed a change because there are soo many things that God has in store for me, that I have to leave to go forward. 

Trust your instinct to the end, though you can render no reason.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

For the past five years, I can honestly say that I have loved my job. Even with all the bull, it's been the kids that have saved me every year. On first glance, these students can appear to be crazy, loud, obnoxious, and needy. But on the other side, they can read a person, and they read my heart from the start.  They saw in me, and still do by the way, things that I never saw in myself.

These past five years I have been a mom, a disciplinarian, a counselor, a sister, sometimes a lecturer (or preacher), sometimes a shoulder. I never thought I could be those things, and still manage to discover the woman I needed to become. Just as I have watched them grow, I grew too. 

In making the decision to make this transition, I thought about my kids. But in my heart, in my gut, I knew that this was my last year. I didn't speak it out loud to anyone! It took going to see The Help with my mom, that my mom looked over at me, and said, "Your time is coming. This is it." I told my mom, "I have to follow my dreams. Now is the time."

I had my doubts. I mean I am well liked at my job, dedicated, its comfortable. But my instincts told me things were going to change. It's time to go. It made no sense, but I pursued and the right door was opened. 

Now that I have stepped through that door, I am seeing what God wanted to show me. That it was my time to leave. I started to really accept the true nature of people, that for some you are only as good as what you can provide for them. I have also had to accept some things. The fact that ultimately the decision to make choices are not yours; that you can guide, give food, supply, but ultimately the decisions rest in the other person's hand.

Recently I have spent a lot of tears and anger seeing the nature of some during this transition. But I am also so glad that I trusted my instincts, because the reasons are now becoming more clear.  

The decision to keep, sell, and to let go.

“Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending.” -Maria Robinson

I had this thought that I would start this blog the day that I tell my students that I am leaving. I figure, what a way to prepare for this big move in my life, by opening up with the people who have had the biggest impact in my life in the past five years.

But today, an odd Saturday where I happened to be free, was the day I wanted to start writing. The inspiration hit me when I opened the door to my storage unit, and realized that I have to figure out what things to keep, to sell, and to let go.

My unit in the middle of the first cleaning process

Before I get into that, let's talk about the amount of money I have wasted on this unit in the past 9 years. I officially moved back to Indiana, September 9, 2011 from my lovely home in Baltimore. I maintained an apartment next door to my parents for two years, until I was laid off and had to move back in. I opened my storage unit in April 2003. I had a glimmer of hope of closing my unit when I moved into my current residence (a fabulous bachelorette pad by the beach), but I had way too many things to move into my place, so I held on to the unit. Over the past 9 years, I have spent about $4860 to hold on to clothes, books, pictures, and knick-knacks that I have accumulated throughout my life.

It took deciding to take a chance and move overseas to Kuwait that I realized that its time to close this unit. But what to keep? What to sell? What to let go?

The Keep stuff-- I am already realizing that I will have to do this in phases. My goal is to get all my things down to five containers. ALL OF MY THINGS. Not only my unit, but my apartment (which is a whole separate issue). But I have decided for now to hold on to old letters, pictures, books that I have actually used,  etc. The old letters from my pen pal from South Africa that I have no clue what they are doing or where they are living, to letters from my friend Katrin, the German exchange student in my high school, who lives in Australia and is newly married. Letters from my mom when I was in undergrad and when I was living in England. Pictures of me and my little brother, college days, and my 21st birthday party (I laughed over those for a good 10 minutes). Then there are the books. The books..... That's hard for me.

One bin of books that I'm willing to sell

What to sell-- The books that are easy chick lit reads that I probably bought in impulse because I realized that I may be eating by myself one night. Folders. I have soo many folders and binders in great condition.   My collection of piggy banks not worthy to be in my apartment. VHS cassettes. I haven't owned a VHS player since 2003. I have tapes of the last Cheers episode, or the whole Jazz series on PBS. Now I have Netflix. 

The Let Go-- Clothes. The outfits that I may have worn once that I swore to myself that if I lose just 30 pounds, I can fit in again. I have a ton of t-shirts. College ones, free ones, ones that I have no idea how they came into my company. Clothes with receipts. And sweaters...I know that I do not need all of my sweaters, I mean, I am going to live in the Middle East. It makes no since to hold on to all of those things, but I am keeping my cardigans. 

In the packing and shifting through, I am flooding myself with all these memories and desires that I have kept in a box, locked in a unit, for almost 9 years. Nine years!!! I have lived my life, but haven't really lived my dreams in nine years. I can't go back and live off my memories, instead I desire to go after my dreams. That's all I have at this moment.