tararehrig.com

i’ve never liked new year’s eve.  in theory, yes.  in practicality, not so much.

when i was a child, i always approached the day with a little fear and trepidation.  as the hours wore down and the night fell dark, the pit in my stomach would grow harder.  i couldn’t ever figure out why.

i tried to distract myself.

but my mind always went to dying.  the world ending.  darkness winning.  and more nights than not, i would be crying at the foot of my parent’s bed.  in fear.

morbid.  and depressing.  i know.  but that’s just the kind of child-like mind i had.  i guess i was that kid.

i’ve grown up.  and as an adult, the nights have mostly passed with friends, games, revelry, food.  fun.  but always a nagging thought in the back of my mind.  a hollow growl in my heart.

the unshakable knowledge that life was slipping away.  and what had i done with it?

time had been spent.  but what had i bought?

these aren’t happy-go-lucky thoughts.  but i never claimed to be an optimist.  and i don’t own rose-colored glasses.

i am, however, a realist.

and the reality is that life is short.  a vapor.  a blink.  a grain of sand.  a firefly flitting across the night sky.  here today.  gone tomorrow.  the end.

but wait.  that’s not the end.

when i was teaching, i had a benjamin franklin quote hanging above our classroom calendar:

“dost thou love life?  then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of.”

{you’re not really supposed to use the word “stuff” in writing.  but i guess if your name is benjamin franklin, you get a pass.  it also helps that he threw in the words “dost” and “squander” for good measure.}

the truth is, i love life.  and i don’t want to waste it.

i’m not filled with fear anymore.  my heart doesn’t seize up with questions of the unknown, like it did when i was a child.  and i’m not wrapped in a ball, crying my nights away.

but i am aware.  and the marking of a new year brings the thought to mind.  in a healthy way, i hope.  that this life i love is not forever.

and this stuff i fill it with?  well, it better be worthy.

“God hath given to man a short time here upon earth, and yet upon this short time eternity depends.” ~ jeremy taylor (theologian, 1660)

i just can’t seem to get the thought out of my head.  could what they said be true?

i’ve been laying here in my bed for hours.  trying to be still.  not disturb my sisters.  or my parents.  trying to fall asleep.  think of something else.  clear my head.  have things go back to normal.

i haven’t been very successful.

the sun is about to come up.  the day is about to start.  i know i have long hours of field work ahead of me.  of picking leaves.  and tending to the family.  a long day.  that requires the sleep i’m not getting.  that i haven’t gotten for months.

but i just can’t stop thinking about i heard.

i remember it perfectly.  i can replay  the day in my mind like it’s happening all again.

i’d been in the field.  with my sisters.

like all the times before, we were laughing at something funny our brother had just said.  some story he was retelling.

i’d just bent down to work on another tree.  determined to pick the tea leaves off every last inch.  when my friend’s face appeared over the ridge.

the wind kept me from hearing her words.  but i could see she was excited.  she gestured for us to come up.  and quickly.

we had visitors at my house, she said.  foreign visitors.

i didn’t know what this meant.  i live in a tiny village.  the same one i’ve lived in my whole life.  the one my parents and their parents and their parent’s parents have lived in as well.

i’d never seen a foreigner.  until that day.

with my sisters in tow, i ran up the hill and all the way to my home.  paused to catch my breath.  and slowly made my way up the stairs.

i could hear talking.  in my people’s language.  in my country’s language.  and then something else.  some other tongue that i wasn’t familiar with.  and honestly didn’t quite care for.

i crept to the top of the landing and sat down.  tucked my legs up under me.  and listened.

before me sat my mom.  my dad.  and four strangers.  two men.  and two girls.  cross legged around our fire pit.  drinking our tea.  eating our candy.  smiling.  dressed in strange clothes.  and looking hot and sweaty.

i was fascinated.

the girls were beautiful.  light skin.  light hair.  like angel’s dust.

the men.  one older.  like my father.  one younger.  with incredibly long legs.  which he humorously tried to fold under him like a grasshopper.

i could tell they were all unaccustomed to sitting on the floor.  they fidgeted a lot.

soon my attention turned to the conversation.  the younger man was speaking in our country’s language.  telling us what the others were saying.  mostly asking questions about our life.  our people.  our home.  our tea.  our family.

and telling us about their’s.  they were from america, he said.  and wanted to learn about us.

at one point, they started asking us questions about our beliefs.  i heard my mom and my dad explain our religion to them.  explain that we are three things:  our belief.  our people.  and our tea.  you cannot undo the trio.

they were interested.  i could tell.  and asked a lot of questions.  i wondered why they didn’t know about this belief of ours.  it’s the only one i had ever heard of.  and it never crossed my mind that others hadn’t.

i turned my attention back to watching the girls.  imagining them as my friends.  wondering if they were married.  admiring their pretty hair.

but then i heard the question.  the one that has been keeping me awake.

they asked if we knew where we came from.  like, where do all people come from?  and the earth too.

the thing is, i’d been asking this question my whole life.  vocally, as a child.  and in my heart, as i’ve gotten older.  once, my grandfather told me some story about the earth and a dragon and the people that were born from them.  it was a wive’s tale.  a child’s story.

but the only explanation i’d been given.

after the question was asked, i glanced around nervously.  my brother and two of my sisters were sitting in doorways, listening to the conversation at our fire pit.

everyone looked blank.  i knew, as a people, we didn’t have an answer.  and i wondered how we would handle this.   my parents simply said they didn’t know.

our foreign guests asked if they could tell us what they believed.

as i sat there, crouched on the top step, my heart jumped.  something inside me told me i’d finally get an answer.  something that was true.

and what i heard was amazing.

that there is a God.  a God who created us.  loves us.  desires a relationship with us.  but we have done wrong.  separated ourselves from him.  but this God wants us back.  and he sent his son from heaven to earth.  to bring us back to our God.  so we could be in a relationship with Him again.

i’d never heard this before.  but now that i had.  it made sense.

perfect sense.

our belief told us to worship a man.  a man who was dead.  but they said we should worship a God.  who is still alive.

they told us more.  gave us a book.  and answered some questions.

i watched them from my window as they walked away.  i could see them laughing with each other.  see them meet up with more foreigners at the corner.  see them pass around their water bottle and wipe sweat from their faces.

see that they didn’t know they had changed my life forever.

because now.  even months later.  i can’t stop thinking about what they said.  and i can’t stop hoping that it’s true.

there is something about my brother that i think you all should know.

i’ve already highlighted how incredibly talented he is.  i’ve already told you how funny he is.  wait…maybe i haven’t told you that… i’ve already narrated how protective he is.  and i’ve already shown you how amazingly lucky he is.

but what you don’t know.  what i’m just discovering.  and appreciating.  more and more.

is how selfless he is.

levi has one more year of school and then will graduate with his graphic design degree.  he’ll marry bekah. move to bartlesville.  and start working as a photographer.  hopefully in his own business.

right now, he works as a designer for a local photographer in okc and freelances on the side.

he’s worked hard to develop his style.  his name.  his product.

he’s invested in good equipment.  in programs.  in education.

.

then i enter the picture.

i want to start taking better pictures.  i want to learn the tricks.  i want to start my own business.

and so i ask for levi’s help.

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here’s where a normal person {read: me} would start to feel territorial.  selfish of competition moving in.  prideful in the work they’d put in on their own.  and leery of sharing too much with someone else.

it’d be easy for him to say, “go buy your own equipment.”  when i ask to borrow his light diffuser.  or “i have my own pictures to work on.”  when i ask for help on photoshop.  or “stop trying to do what i do, loser.”  when i ask if i can be just like him when i grow up.

but he doesn’t.

he generously loans out his equipment.  without hesitation, gives his time.  and enthusiastically encourages my pursuits.

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i couldn’t ask for a better brother.  i love him.

and i thought you all should to know.

i’ve been wanting to tell this for awhile.  been pretty much bursting at the seams with excitement to share this news.  but the timing.  it just wasn’t right.  until now.

and so now i share.

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a few months ago, my brother was looking for graphic design internship opportunities.  my dad and i told him to contact hobby lobby.  we had both toured their corporate office a while earlier during some teaching training time with our school.

being the loyal older sister, i checked their website to see if it mentioned any internship openings.  it didn’t.  but what i did find has altered the course of my life.

in my search, i saw an ad for an opening in their creative department.  as a craft designer.  responsible for creating product prototypes and instructional design.  working hand in hand with their graphic designers and photographers.

i read the ad to my parents.  and the three of us immediately knew i had to pursue this.  it was practically written for me.

i hemmed and hawed about it for a while.  i love my job.  and wasn’t looking for a way out of it.  i was open to change.  but was content if that change didn’t come.

and besides the ad asked for a portfolio.  a portfolio i didn’t have.

after a couple days of not being able to get it off my mind, i went ahead and gathered my work.  took pictures.  and created an online portfolio to send in with my resume.

i held my breath and crossed my fingers.  feeling like it was a long shot.  i had no idea what they were looking for and was just certain it wasn’t what i presented.

a few days later, i was called for an interview.  scheduled for the following week.  where i could meet with the director and show samples of my work.

here’s where the nerves really started working overtime!  and i let myself start hoping.  maybe this could really happen!?!  maybe i could get a job working in my field!?!   maybe they really would want me!?!

i worked non stop for the next week, creating new projects.  rounding out my repertoire.  developing an accurate portrayal of my abilities.

on interview day, i loaded up my car with two laundry baskets full of samples.  and headed out to the corporate office.  out by the airport.

i was nervous.  but confident.

more on the nervous side once they ushered me into the conference room with not one, but four, interviewers.  the creative director.  the photography director.  the craft design director.  and her assistant.

for the next hour, the five of us talked as if we’d known each other forever.  we passed around my work.  they asked me questions.  we all made jokes.

and then we toured the building.  showing me the warehouse bicycles.  and the layout room.

on my way out, i asked when they were planning to make their decision.  and was told they’d been interviewing for two weeks.  and probably had two more weeks to go.  so i shouldn’t expect to hear anything until then.

i got back into my car.  reported back to all of my family.  and settled myself into not knowing anything for awhile.  being ok with that.

two days later, to my complete surprise, i received a call.  offering me the job.  agreeing to let me start after the school year ended and upon my return from thailand.  and with a considerable raise and benefits.

for the next hours, my phone worked overtime as i sent messages and made phone calls telling the world my news.

the world, minus my students, that is.

it just wasn’t time to break the news to them.  until yesterday.

and now the word is out.  and that’s why i can tell you!

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i am so excited for what the future holds!  i have no doubt in my mind that every step of this process has been orchestrated by my Lord.   this answers so many prayers.  He is good.  good indeed.

last night, i stayed up way past my bedtime.  to like 10:00 or so.  i was watching the end of the voice.  you know it?  blake sheldon had drawn me in.

sitting on my couch, as i was, i could look directly into my kitchen.  and see my backdoor.

now, this particular backdoor has a window in it.  a window on which i have painted a faux stained glass design.  no curtain.  just opaque, colored glass.

suddenly, a movement caught my eye and i glanced at the door.  i saw the light from what appears to be a flashlight shining into my window.

my heart was instantly in my chest.

i jumped up.  and turned on all the lights in the house.  which is like, three.  my house is small.

i grabbed my phone and punched in the numbers for 911.  nine.  one.  one.  and held my finger ready on the send button.  as i wandered from room to room, periodically peering out my windows.  certain i was about to be looking face to face with my killer.

i thought about calling a neighbor.  but remembered i didn’t have any numbers.  curse this self-isolated culture we live in!

so i called my brother.  the older one.  the one that was ten minutes away.  not the one who is currently in boston with my parents.  that one i didn’t thing could do much for me.

levi immediately calmed me down.  but recommended i call the police.  and i was about to.  until he offered to come out himself.  of which i was happier to accept.

in the meantime, he said, grab a knife or something.  just in case.

good idea.  except i only own two knives.  used to be three, but every since my roommate moved out, i haven’t been able to locate the third.  of the two i own, one is a small ceraded tomato knife.  i didn’t figure that could do much.  and the other?  a bread knife.  dull as dirt.  but big and menacing.

as i waited for levi, i stood in the living room with the phone, poised to call 911, in one hand.  and the bread knife in the other.  i tried to position myself next to the windows, so my shadow would scare off anyone who looked my way.

ten minutes later.  which felt like thirty.  levi came up the drive.  and into my house.  with a flashlight and some protection.  he made his way out to my backyard, arms poised like a 1920′s detective on a stake out.

he made his way around my property, shining light.  and the fear of God.  into any crevice a burglar may have been hiding.  with the all clear, we went back inside.  after getting the phone number of my neighbor.  for future reference.

shortly after, levi returned home.  but not without leaving me that same protection to adorn my night stand.

needless to say.  my night’s sleep was fitful.

and now i’m on the hunt.  for a husband.  or a roommate.  or a dog.

in that order.

“Flowers… are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty outvalues all the utilities of the world.”  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

i’ve never lived in a house without a flower garden.  as a child, my mom always surrounded our porch and walkways with flowers.  all arrays of flowers.  my gramma too.  both of them.  flowers everywhere.

every spring, my mom and grammas would start putting their beds together.  weeding and pruning.  mulching and watering.  until beautiful things emerged again.

this was one of the things i looked forward to the most with having a house.  the planting of a flower garden.

it just says home.

because of the changing dynamics of my life over the last few months, i’m having to keep a close eye on my purse strings.  manage my money a little more creatively.  cut out what is not needed.  and some of what is.

but even in that, i’ve gone ahead with my flowers.  thanks to birthday gifts and gift cards.

i think that’s why i like that emerson quote so much.  their beauty does outweigh the utilities of the world.  it’s a beauty that reminds me of God’s goodness.  of His faithfulness.  of His attention.  of His love.

of His promise.

here it is.  the big three – three.  practically knocking on death’s door.

or so i felt last night, when i sent myself to bed early.  suffering with severe attack of the allergies.

but this morning.  on the anniversary of my birth.  i woke up with a spring in my step…and a bruise on my the bottom of my heel….this growing old thing is for the dogs.

but i shook it off.  looked myself in the mirror.  and found this:

my sweet sis.  who is bunking with me during her summer vaca.  left birthday messages all over my house.

if that doesn’t get you gonna, i don’t know what will!

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at school, every hour was full of birthday wishes and fun!  of course, my students declared i couldn’t possibly “work” on my birthday, so we might as well just partay.  aren’t my students the best ever?!?  but since i’m an old, responsible thirty-three now, i did the mature thing and gave them notes.  the show must go on, folks.

however, my dear friend and fellow {spanish} teacher held surprise birthday parties {cloaked as cinco de mayo celebrations} for me in all her spanish classes.  i worked off the chips and salsa with frequent refill runs across the hallway from my classroom to hers.

to round out my mexican fix, i had two delivers of starbucks and sonic from the kelster.

i had to practically be rolled out the school doors by three.

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not to be outdone by the generosity of kel, ethan brought me this pretty bouquet of flowers:

of course my students were disappointed they were from my brother.  and not a real boy.  they live to hear of my love life.  only because it distracts me from teaching lessons.

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no cinco de mayo birthday is complete without a trip to the local mexically restaurante.  ole!  the rents sprung for the meal.  and the sibs provided the entertainment.

thanks mom and dad!  it was da bomb diggity!

finally, i posed for my “this is what thirty-three looks like” picture.

pretty, right?

so, you can see why, by the end of the day, i was fighting off the paparazzi.  all clamoring to get a piece of me.  on the day i turned thirty-three.

when the government finally gave me {some} of my money back a few months ago, i was able to invest in a new camera.

and the heavens rejoice.

with the help of my oh-so-talented brother, levi, i picked out this beauty:

a canon rebel Ti1 – 18 mega pixels, EOS movie mode with full HD recording, 3 inch LCD screen, and a cool red strap.

it’s the bomb diggity.

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and the good news is, now you no longer have to look at my stinky pictures.  see?  it was a selfless purchase on my part.

now, instead of this:

you get this:

wow.  the clarity.

and.  instead of this:

you get this:

ooo.  aaa.  the definition.

and.  instead of this:

you get this:

holla.  the focus.

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obviously, i’m super excited about my baby here.

but what i really want to say is:  you’re welcome.

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i was teaching a lesson on john foxe, author of foxe’s book of martyrs, to my ninth grade english class today.

i was waxing eloquent on the trials that foxe faced when he joined the protestant reformation movement, causing him to have to flee england and the persecution of “bloody mary” to take refuge in geneva.

i went on and on about the influence of the protestant refugees in geneva, particularly his pastor, john knox.  now considered the founder of the presbyterian church.

in the middle of this articulate lecture, i paused to allow some students to catch up on the notes.

because that’s what a good teacher does.

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as they were writing, i allowed some students to ask questions or make comments about what we had been talking about.  inevitably some irrelevant ones slipped through as well.

one such student decided he needed to point out the humor he saw in the name knox.

not really being sure why he thought the name knox was humorous, i tried to tell them that is was actually a common name.  something they would hear even now.  plus i didn’t want the conversation to spiral into nonsense.  as it so easily does.

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so i said, “my street name is knox.”

they all looked at me with puzzled expressions.  i thought maybe they just had not understood what i said.  weren’t paying attention.  so i repeated,  ”you know, i live on knox drive.  my address.”

immediate recognition.

“oooooooooh…”

and immediate laughter.

.

just then it dawned on me what they had heard.  ”my street name is knox.”

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we had a good laugh.  and then i warned them to keep my alias on the down low.  if they blew my cover, i’d have to hurt ‘em.

cause that’s how we do it in the hood.

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they agreed.  and we resumed our lesson.

never to speak of again.

or the alternate title:  the lies i told myself.

i’ve been sick this week.  i’ve had the headache, upset stomach, feel like i’m gonna throw-up, on the verge of a fever, want to cry all the time blues.  it’s been lovely.  don’t you wish you were here?

i went to school on monday, feeling eww…ok.  i couldn’t really get in the swing of things.  had to push myself to complete my tasks.  but i just figured it was spring break residuals.

tuesday, our thailand team (i told you i’m going to thailand this summer, right?  well, i am.) had meetings all morning.  it was a blast!  complete with a treat of an authentic thai lunch to boot!  i had to fight through this one, resisting the urge to faint or puke every time i stood up or said more than three words.  i went home after lunch.

and slept.  and slept.  and slept.

so when wednesday came and i awoke from approximately twenty-nine hours of sleep, i figured i better head in to work.  i didn’t have sub plans and besides, it was only a half day.  easy shmeesy.  or so i thought.  i made it.  but it wasn’t pretty.

thursday turned out just as bleak.  and by second hour, i was calling for a sub.  i went home at ten to sleep the day away.  right before asking for coverage for friday.  i wasn’t taking my chances.  this thing was gonna be licked.  one way or another.

i hate being sick.

i’m never sick.

in fact, this week was the first time all year.  and that’s saying something for a person who works with kids.  otherwise known as “walking festering germ vats”.  that’s the professional name.

so when i felt things coming on this week, i denied it.  i powered through. stuck it out.  told myself to toughen up, rehrig, there’s a war to fight!  and hence a week long battle with whatever ailed me.

maybe if i’d taken a whole day off at the onset, i could nipped this sucka in the bud a long time ago.

but i’m a slow learner.

and a dang prideful soul at that.

i consider myself pretty strong.  my pain threshold is unbelievably high.  i have a mental toughness that could swallow nails.  or something like that.

and so when i get sick all my walls start crashing down.  i have to start admitting that i’m weak.  that i can’t do things on my own.  that i should say no.  and that i need help.

all things that i hate to do.

with my defenses low, the lies started coming in.  and i started telling myself i was ugly and stupid and a no good loser.  lies.  all lies.

essentially, i was whipped.

i was weak.

and the devil took advantage.

thankfully, i have an arsenal of weapons.  that are highly effective.  when i remember to use them.

and now that my headache has gone away, my stomach has calmed down and my fever’s broke, things are looking up.  and those lies?  i’ll see them again.  i’m sure of it.  in the meantime, i’ll keep building my weapons.  finding that in my weakness, He is my strength.  thank goodness.