Answers

Even though I took the most advanced math classes I could when I was in high school, I did not understand math. I didn't understand where equations came from; I didn't understand why I did what I did. All I knew was to take the rule, apply it, and get an answer. When I reached any sort of problem that was to have a real-world solution, I was stuck. I preferred answers that stayed theoretical without much application to real life.

A big reason I enjoyed math class was because of the people. I loved listening to the witty quibblers who would pun back and forth while solving complex calculus problems, and typing all sorts of genius nonsense into their TI-89 graphing calculators. I loved the class frustration at a problem, and feeling the pulse of the class quicken as we got one step closer to solving the problem. I loved the moment of eureka in a loud, exuberant voice, or a quiet, confident nod. I loved the friendships -- the understandings -- forged when someone who understood explained to those who didn't.

Perhaps my favorite thing about all my math classes were that there were answers in the back of the book. There were answers. They were accessible. Problems were solvable. When confronted with a problem that seemed to have sheer impossibility as an answer, it was a matter of flips and we were there, staring the beautiful solution in the face. Perhaps working backwards from there would make it easier and I could understand the steps...

The ridiculous thing is... that's not math. That's not true problem-solving. The thing I loved most about math was something that was artificial. I had trained myself to believe there was one way of doing things, and that the answer was always readily accessible. I dreaded those flips to the back of the book that would reveal a very unhelpful answer: "answers will vary" and left it at that. But the truth is... that's real life.

There's no "life answer book" that is readily accessible, a few flips and we're there. Consult it for a few moments, or perhaps stop and stare long and hard, work backwards, or even see the steps of solution. There are many ways to find the solution, and perhaps "answers will vary," but that's what makes it interesting.

I realized that when I didn't have the answers at the flip of my fingertips, I worked much longer, much harder on a problem. I tried every avenue... I worked every possible answer. But as soon as I knew there was an answer available, I gave up much too quickly. As soon as I realized the problem would take some thought, I would try one method, realize I didn't know what I was doing, and immediately flip two hundred pages forward, eyes scanning the page hungrily for the problem number.

I also discovered that it was the problems that didn't have answers -- the problems I worked the hardest on -- that I ended up finding the most joy in the solution. Since I had worked so hard to find the solution, I valued the solution so much more, I celebrated much longer, and I gained new confidence to tackle the next problem.

Sometimes I really wish I could flip forward a few years, see the answers to my questions, and even see how I got where I will be. But from these few short lessons from math, I have discovered that perhaps it is better to continue to strive for a solution without being spoon-fed. Perhaps it is better to just wait and see, to work, to use trial and error when everything else fails, and to continue asking for others' advice and input. And maybe one day I will arrive at the solution. And I will celebrate and boldly approach the next difficulty with confidence and endurance.

Apartment Life

Apparently I'm a grown-up now. Well... almost.

I wear my teacher badge, dress "professionally," and go to school. I live in an apartment where I make my own food... that's mostly edible. I find cleaning and organizing enjoyable. I do grocery shopping once a week or so, always looking for the lowest bargains. I do laundry... and other people's laundry. I meet new people like it's my job....

I still have classes, I still don't have a car, I still miss my parents, and I still don't like folding socks.

I'm in the awkward in-between where I'm more than halfway to adult. To be more exact: a year away from it... if going by college graduation. My face looks young; people assume I'm still in high school. They ask me when I graduate (and they're not talking about college graduation). I grit my teeth and pretend that it's a compliment. Maybe one day when I'm forty it will be...

I live with three amazing roommates. We get along splendidly, even though we come from very different backgrounds. We haven't even known each other for that long. That's why our lives must operate by grace. Always grace. Our days are up and down, but it's in the extension of grace that we truly live well. Willing to understand, willing to do someone else's chores, always saying thank you, and always always communicating. It's been great so far, but I know hard times may come. Still, I embrace this year, excited to see what the last fourth of my time at Grace holds for me!

Three years ago I embarked on this journey at Grace College. I arrived feeling shy and very overwhelmed, certain I would never make friends. I was also convinced I knew most things in the world... that I was a capable, confident, smart person who was ready to take on the world. During my years here at Grace, I have been humbled. I have realized how little I truly know. I have found great joy in learning, in taking the initiative for my own learning. I have learned to be healthier, to have a more balanced life and schedule, and how to make lasting friendships. But most of all I have grown so much spiritually, continually desiring to grow more and to continue on the course I have started on. As campus is flooding with freshman, I am so excited for all of the transformations that will occur in their lives in the coming years. Energizing.

Rules.

This summer I spent time volunteering at Safety Town where kids going into kindergarten get to learn all about how to be safe. I was the traffic light operator in our model village where preschool kids zipped by each other on tricycles, practicing obeying stop signs, red lights, and arrows. At first I was just in charge of switching the light from red to green at appropriate times. By the end of the week I was primarily watching for impending collisions, pointing at the arrow markings, caring for boo-boos, strapping on bike helmets, and telling one imaginative boy that he was not allowed to be an ambulance, ignoring all traffic signals.

I learned a lot about myself during this week. I realized how much of a rule follower I am. I panic when rules aren't obeyed, which is why this job quickly felt far more chaotic and stressful than it should have. I realized that I love order, and I expect other people to do what is right. I like controlling situations and having things going according to my plans.

Rules are in place to be followed in order to keep people safe. But when they begin to dominate my life as I worry about whether I'm doing everything I'm supposed to, something's off. That's not the point of rules. Rules are meant to provide guidelines in order to allow a fuller life. So many people see rules as a negative thing.

And then there are people like me... who adore them.

I also realized how much rules dominate my life. I live by them. In a sense I have lived for them. I often get so bogged down in the details of following rules that I lose the intent behind them. I worry and overanalyze... and sometimes it takes the joy out of living life to the fullest.

I have always wanted to be seen by other people as the "good girl." But the more I try to prove to the world how "perfect" I am, the more I prove a different thing: how flawed I am. It hurts to fall on my face consistently, especially when I'm trying to live a life of goodness.

As I ponder this deeper, I realize that the more I try to do the right thing, the more I fail. And the more I fail, the more I see my need for grace. The more I fall short, the more I learn to cherish grace. As long as I think I'm doing all right, I have no need for mercy. No room for grace. It is when I am humbled, brought low, and overflowing with failure that grace envelops me.

I would much rather be a failure embraced by grace than a perfect, put-together, self-deceiving... fool.

Ready. Set. GO!

My days are speeding forward... I have no way to slow them down. I'm overwhelmed with responsibilities hitting me all at once. Piles of packing left undone, overwhelmed by decisions... great and small. What to take, what to leave, what to buy, what to keep.

People are on my mind a lot... people of the future, people of the present, people of the past. Those I will soon see in just a few short days, excitement brimming, thrilled to live again with my dear roommate, and beautiful friends. Excited to reunite, to listen, to talk, to share life. Nervous about meeting my class of sixth graders, fear of inadequacy or failure nipping at my heels... every excited thought followed by a nagging one. Thrilled to be part of a community of people walking with me through life again... brimming at the possibilities, the opportunity to pour in, to love, to grow. Expectantly waiting to meet the new Korean students... and all other new students, freshmen, and transfers. Fears that my introverted self will be overwhelmed at the sheer magnitude of change.
Missing my brother by just one day escalates my feelings of not being ready... of wishing for maybe just one more week here... one more week of wrapping up relationships, moving on, saying good-byes. I rejoice in the relationship I have built with my parents and celebrate the victories we've shared together, the good jokes, and the things we've accomplished together this summer.
I also realize that Grace will be different... that many people who have been the face of Grace to me will no longer be there because they have graduated. I'm the senior now... and that means I become the face of Grace to others... a humbling thought.

I'm beginning to live my life in the adult world... a foot still in college, and a foot in the real world. I don't feel ready. But I take heart knowing that the One who knows all things has gone before me. So... senior year... student teaching... life: Ready. Set. GO!