Melissa So Far

My dear friend from the Netherlands was here last week. When she comes we fill our days with all kinds of fun adventures including good food, a Broadway show or two, and more than a few walkabouts. This trip was no different. However, on the day I took off from school to spend with my friend I noticed the two of us were rushing around to get ready for the day as if we had to be somewhere and were running late. I mentioned this to her and said, "why is it we do this?" We had planned for an easy day--a run to Trader Joe's and Target for treats she can't get in Holland, a movie, and a stop for fries at Bareburger. She shared with me that she does this often, this rushing about to get ready. We added that we both make lists of things we want to remember and to do, so we don't forget or to just get it out of our brain. For me, I think this rushing about comes from this idea that I don't want to waste a single moment of any day, especially those of my vacation

I felt the warmth of their hands on my shoulders and arms. Their voices flooded my brain with sweet, loving words entreating God to bring wisdom, healing and restoration. I had been so angry, so hurt, and felt so betrayed. God's peace poured into my wounded places, a healing salve. These women chose to give up their own needs to come to the throne of heaven with mine. Humbling. Prayer is an intimacy that has to be shared in a safe place. Almost every week, once a week, for years now I have been meeting with a group of women to study God's Word, to reflect on how He is working in our lives, to share one another's joys and burdens,  drink a little wine, and to pray. We've been known to call it "wine-soaked prayers." Whatever you call it, it's a sacred space. (For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them. Matthew 18:20) I shared a little bit about them already. Like the area we live, we are an ever changing group. The people I meet with

This is a picture of the Chair of Wondrous Knowledge. It's heavy. It's got these arm rests at just the perfect height for your shoulders to rest. It has a place for your bum to slide into and a rest at the bottom for your feet. It's a comfortable chair. It's substantial. It's been in my classroom or in the community of learners I teach for quite a while now. Children who are the person of the week get to sit in it and share about themselves. Adults too. People feel special in it. You have to be invited to sit in it. It's part of the boundaries I've placed on the chair. It has become synonymous with me, for some reason. Recently there have been a lot of changes in my work life. Most are unwelcomed. I went away to a really great conference for four days and upon my return I received many bits of information, one being that the "chair" was no longer in my room. My room didn't fit the activities that required the chair. Persons of the week woul

Deep inside my soul is this oily, black slick of anger. Anger at a recent event that happened to me by people I trusted. It's resting below the surface and ready to strike should any one of the people who wronged me say one thing to me regarding this event. I want to unleash words that hurt and annihilate them. I have thoughts in my head like "gestapo actions," Or "Nazi-like tactics." It's hard for me to be angry. I don't like it, it seems like a waste of time and really, does it solve anything? I enjoy wordplay but I don't like to use my quick thinking to attack. Also, I often get bored with being angry. I'm such a golden retriever people! Is that a squirrel?? Still I had a good friend tell me that I need to record my anger, so here goes: I feel angry. I haven't been this angry since I had to attend anger management when my son got into trouble. I am livid. I am seething. I feel hatred. I feel like saying all the curse words. I fee

I remember her ways so well. She was serene. She was steady. She spoke only when necessary and when she did, it was with words that were kind and encouraging. I never heard her say a negative word about any one or any thing. I moved in her circles, but we were not friends. She was always friendly to me, and treated me the way she treated everyone. I found that when I was with her I felt awkward and loud. I felt convicted. I felt unworthy. She was what I thought a Proverbs 31 woman was in every sense. Now I'm not speaking about the non-profit ministry called Proverbs 31 Woman. I'm talking about the woman described in the Bible book of Proverbs. And in the late 1980s-early 1990s this chapter of Proverbs was often quoted to young church women as to how we should be, especially if you wanted to be a woman a man wanted to marry. It felt impossible for me. I felt shamed by it, and by the people who placed its expectations on me. After I married my husband, I was so insecure as a

I heard her sobbing in the girls' bathroom as I was walking down the school hallway. I saw her teacher glancing towards the bathroom while also watching the students in her classroom. I asked her if she needed any help. I watched her class while she went to see what was up with this young, crying girl. We traded places after a few minutes. I entered the ladies room hoping I had words to say that would help. What I saw when I entered made me smile. She was being hugged by a classmate and a girl from the grade ahead of her. Part of her girl group. I asked her if she wanted a hug which I gave gladly, and I asked her if the hurtful words were the same ones she'd told me about before, "You think you're so smart." "You're such a know it all." "You're too much." "You're just too much." That's a phrase I've been battling as long as I remember. I have always been a talker. I have always laughed out loud. I have been kno