Pleomorphic Adenoma (Part 1)

 

“All my life You have been faithful. All my life You have been so, so good. With every breath that I am able I will sing of the goodness of God.” — “Goodness of God” Bethel Music

What a humbling fact to know that God is always faithful. It is true; ALL of my life, He has proven Himself to be ever faithful and ever present. Mind if I take these few breaths that I am able and sing of the Goodness of God in the midst of my mouth tumor story? 

As I trace the goodness of God in this one instance, I find myself truly going back so far. So many events in my life have prepared me for the journey of my tumor. I was poised and ready to embrace this pleomorphic Adenoma due to all of the circumstances God has brought me to and through. To spare you my entire life story, let me start a few months prior to my surgery.

September/October, 2020

I finally decided after Y E A R S of not going that I would find a new dentist and start going again. I had been experiencing a lot of pain in my teeth, and had always intended on going. But (insert excuses here)... I didn’t. September/October time. I went in for my first consultation, to where I was informed that I had several cavities, some gingivitis, would need my wisdom teeth removed, and would probably need some sort of teeth alignment... Oh yeah! And I had a spongy mass on the roof of my mouth that raised a huge red flag to my dentist. I had known the mass was there, but didn’t think anything of it. For as long as I could remember, the mass was a part of me. It didn’t bother me; I barely even noticed it unless somebody pointed it out to me. In fact, my previous dentist that I saw Y E A R S prior noticed it , but said it wasn’t anything to worry about. (This is such a God thing. I wouldn’t have been quite as ready to face this surgery back when I was seeing my other dentist). 

This started a very quick process of me traveling to Westerville for a biopsy (OUCH! Scraping in your mouth.. where you can’t turn away.. they are literally right in your face.. very painful), to Columbus for a consultation, and led eventually to the scheduling of my surgery to remove my tumor, diagnosed as a pleomorphic adenoma. 

I can imagine the look on my and Bethany’s face as the doctor explained the surgery to us. I can imagine the look, only because everybody we told after that consultation had the exact same look on their faces, so I can only imagine that Bethany and I looked the same. The doctor was to go in and remove the tumor (That was taking up the entire right side of my mouth). After a CT scan, it was determined that the tumor was attached to my hard palate. The doctor would have to cut out part of my hard palate bone so that the tumor was completely removed. Then, he would perform what is called a “palatal island flap” where he rotates skin from another location in my mouth to cover up the hole he cut in the roof of my mouth. Yeah... we had the same look on our faces when we first heard. 

So, how exactly did I see God in all of this so far? 

First, God is seen in His perfect timing. I hadn’t been to the dentist in years and suddenly when I feel like I need to go the tumor is found and becomes a priority. Through it all there was a calm. My dentist was calm as she explained it to me; I felt calm as I traveled from doctor to specialist. How cool that I was in a time of my life where I could handle this news. 

Second, God is seen in His plans (Isaiah 55:8). I found this out in 2020, in the midst of a global pandemic where rules were very strange. Why couldn’t I have found the tumor in 2019? Or even 2021? Because God’s plans are better than mine and He is to shine and be glorified in my life...even in the midst of COVID-19. 

Next, God is seen in His provisions (Jehovah-Jireh). I was certain the stresses at work would be abundant. We were, and are, as already stated, in the middle of a pandemic and substitute teachers were in slim pickings. I was told I would be out for 8 weeks, plus would need 2 weeks prior to my surgery for quarantine. How would we find somebody willing to substitute this year, especially for a MUSIC TEACHER. But, God provided an excellent sub who covered my classes so wonderfully. My principal was so understanding and helpful.  Also, with regard to His provisions, can we talk about how God provided me the most incredible person that is my wife? Bethany has been a ROCK through all of this (but there is enough in that for an entire new blog.. stay tuned!)

Finally, God is seen in His Love. The amount of prayers, cards, messages, letters, hugs, and conversations I had once the news was out about my surgery was overwhelming in the most beautiful way possible. The love of God was was shown through the people who had been around me for much of my life, students who I cared so much about, and even those acquaintances I had just recently met. It feels good to be loved, and our Father continues to show His love in so many wonderful ways.

God is good. All the time. 

Preparedness

I'm not old enough to have a real job. I'm not old enough to have graduated college just months before I get married, only to start my real job two weeks after that. I'm just not old enough.

But, looking back, I realized that God sure has prepared me for this job. His blessings are immeasurable.

If you want me to be completely honest, I can trace this whole story of preparing me for this job all the way back to the beginning of my life. But that would take a long time with a lot of pointless side stories. And if you know me at all, you know I like to tell side stories, so I'll spare you all that and only take you back about 4 years ago.

College was a no-brainer option for me. I was going to go to college, earn a teaching degree, and change the world as I shaped the all-too-crazy minds of the future. It was right about my junior year of high school that I decided to become a music teacher and join the amazing ranks of music teachers I had the pleasure of working with in my past.

CHOOSING a college, however, was a completely different endeavor. I'm not one of those people who just knows a lot of random facts about different colleges. I didn't know which schools were the "best music schools to go to" or "the ones with the best sports teams" or even "what college even was." So I literally came to the table with nothing except the desire to learn and to teach. And, as in all instances of my life, I had multitudes of people suddenly full of opinions that needed to be shared with me. I listened, and kind of did my own research.

I mean, sure. I went on college visits (both to get out of school and because I was interested in them), but I didn't really care about where I would end up. I didn't care too much about the audition process. I was kind of nonchalant about the whole thing (which looking back is the definition of my entire college career... I cared A LOT about what I went to school for, not so much about the other stuff like getting nervous for juries or my recital or any of that jazz.) Somehow I ended up with my top two choices: Anderson University in Anderson, Indiana; and Otterbein University in Westerville, Ohio.  (I actually know how I ended up with these schools, but that's not the point of this blog). I was faced with a choice, and after much prayer I decided on Otterbein University. And boy, I'm so glad I did.

Choosing Otterbein meant I was closer to home, which opened up several doors of opportunity for me. Because I was a drivable distance for home, I was brought on as the Accompanist for Bellefontaine's show choir, Les Fons. This group was my family while I was a member, and continued to be my family as I mentored to the students and honed my piano accompaniment skills. Somehow, through the divine plan God had set out, I was able juggle my schedule enough to come home weekly in the Fall Semester to accompany rehearsals and their big show "Cabaret". Had I gone with Anderson University this opportunity would not have come up for me. God is faithful. God is good.

While at Otterbein, I made it a HUGE priority of mine to get into a choir and continue my vocal training. I instantly got hooked on voice lessons, even though it wasn't required of me due to my primary instrument being the saxophone. Choir was a huge part of my life-- I LOVE SINGING-- and so I made sure to continue that in my college career. It was a necessity for me. It worked out for me to be in the top choir and even serve as a section leader for two semesters. God is faithful. God is good.

I can remember my dad and I talking one night while I was home during sophomore year about what I wanted to do post graduation.  He asked me what way I was leaning for teaching (MusicEd can teach Band, Choir, Orchestra, General Music.. basically anything music). Without even questioning, I answered, "If I had to choose right now, I would teach choir at a small school. Maybe one close to home." Now I'm teaching at West Liberty- Salem Local schools-- a small school, close to home. God is faithful. God is good.

Then this West Liberty Job opens up! The whole story is totally a God thing. It wasn't even on my radar as a job position. Then my fiancee, Bethany, was talking to the current director about jobs around the area. Little did I know it would turn into a job for me at the school of my dreams. This school, the administration, the kids, the location.. it all is exactly where I feel comfortable. And it's only because God has prepared me to be exactly where I am. Exactly here.

--
God has prepared me to be where I am today. No, I still don't feel old enough to actually have a job and not be in college. But, God has prepared me to be in this position and has paved the way for me to reach this milestone according to HIS plan. It hasn't failed me yet; I think I'll keep following wherever He leads.

And so it goes..

Letter to Grandma

Dear Grandma,

            I hope that you are looking peacefully down upon our family from heaven. It has been 7 years since you passed away, and yet to me it still seems like you were here yesterday. I find myself often thinking about that night before your surgery, when you assured me that everything was going to be fine. I notice that more times than not, I recall the treacherous news of your stroke, your brain aneurysm, and the painful month you endured before passing. I miss you so much grandma.

            One of my biggest regrets in life is not telling you goodbye officially, grandma. When this was all happening, I was in the eighth grade and didn’t want to really accept what was going on. Instead, I pretended that I was oblivious. Silently hoping that if I ignored the blatant reality before me, you would miraculously get better and be able to respond again. I think that what made me so scared was that when I did come to visit you in the nursing home, you could not talk. Grandma, I watched your eyes long to reach out to touch me. I watched the strain in your face as you attempted to say, “I Love you.” And you couldn’t get it out. Your stroke had taken you over. So I pretended that if I didn’t come and visit you when news hit that you were really sick, that if I didn’t think about it, you would come out of the nursing home and head back to your house so we could make cookies and play cards and eat hardboiled eggs. I miss you so much grandma.

            So, I’m writing this letter to finally say goodbye to you grandma. Even though I know that it is really not goodbye, but more a “see you later,” it doesn’t make it any easier in my mind. Especially since I know you will never really receive this letter. But I wanted to have the chance to tell you goodbye, and that I love you so very much. Knowing that you are pain free now, resting alongside our savior in heaven is the best gift I could ever imagine.

            I’m writing this letter to thank you for all that you taught me in my short thirteen years of life. Because of your nurturing, I gained a love for music that is unexplainable to other people (even other musicians). I enjoyed coming to your house to show you the new song I learned on the piano that week. I really loved turning around and seeing your beaming face after I played my first piece at church one Sunday evening. You were a great supporter, and for that I thank you. Thank you for taking me to church and making sure I had a home in my church family. Your guidance and friendship that you had with members of the church inspired me to reach out and use my talents at church to make my own friends. Thank you for showing me patience when things in our family went awry. Grandma, I’m sure that the issues present among your three kids were part of the reason of your passing. It was a stressful time. But watching your patience and love with your kids has taught me how to deal with life when similar situations arise. You taught me more than I could ever express, and for that I am truly thankful. I miss you so much grandma.

            I hope that, as you look down on us right now, grandma, you are pleased with what you see. I of course have not lived a perfect life. Our family has fought, and there is still a lot of heartache. But, it is my hope that you see the young man I have become and are proud of who I am. I hope that I have made you happy to know that I have followed your teaching and have continued to show love as you showed me. Thanks grandma for those 13 years of love, teaching, and patience. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think of you. Give grandpa a hug for me, and know that I’ll be down here thinking about you.

Love always,

Brice Henry

            

Why camp? Part 1

Many people ask me why I do camp every year. It seems more people are asking me more and more this year with graduation coming up. It has made me wonder what my answer would be.. Why do I keep going back to camp each year? Why, when I will be getting a job (hopefully) for this upcoming school year, will I be spending my summer at a small camp in the middle of nowhere? Blogging seemed like a right answer.

First and foremost, I do it because I am serving my Savior and camp is where He has called me. I am committed to going where He calls me, and right now I know that it is at a small plot of land that is full of a whole lot of Jesus.

But there are more. There are so many stories. Let me start with this one.

This is a memoir I wrote for one of my classes. I'm not sure how well it will translate onto a blog format, but here is my try. May shed a small light onto the reason why, even this summer, and for many summers to come, I will be going to camp.

This One Time At Church Camp

            On Thursday all the campers leave.

            “UGHHHH!! I want to go home!” James declared Thursday morning as he stomped back toward the tabernacle. “Nobody loves me here, anyway.” He had just been pulled out of a tussle that had broken out in the lunch line. I had separated the two who were fighting, leaving one where he was and putting James in the back of the line. This was not okay for James, who had been rowdy all week long. He’d had enough, and wanted to be anywhere but where he was.

            Extreme emotions were nothing new for James. All week he wanted to go home, finding some way to make the focus on him, negatively or positively. You see, James is this squirrely character. Standing no more than 4’6”, this ball of energy was constantly being carried back into the dorm by two of our more brawny counselors, or being chased after as he ran from the tabernacle during chapel time. James was an elementary kid taken to the extreme. But, oh how I loved (and still love) him.

            Of course I was hot on his heels the instant he took off. Of course I was prepared to sit James down and chat with him. Of course I was not quick enough to reach him in time until, of course, he was lashing out at me.

~~~

            On Monday, I was prepared for the week of camp to begin much like any other week. The soft call of the crow sitting in the distant tree provided a sonorous soundtrack to the sundrenched morning. I had awoken fairly early that Monday morning, unable to squelch the nerves and excitement I contained. The campers would be arriving today! I was so excited to spend another week at my second home; I was ready to get started spending every minute of every hour hanging out with the restless third- through fifth-graders; I was prepared to expend all of my energy only to crash for longer than I should come the weekend. After all, this wasn’t my first rodeo. By this point, I was a veteran Camp Union guy. No sweat. After ten years of a Camp Union Camper with eight as a counselor, I was prepared for all that was to come.

            On Monday, I took on a new role at Camp Union. I was even prepared to be director of this elementary week. I was a member in a team of young people, full of fresh ideas, who were respected by the rest of our staff. We got along really well together—unafraid to talk out situations; we tended to reach decisions quickly—which was a huge bonus as we faced this bound-to-be crazy week. Us directors, we had spent countless hours planning chapel services, afternoon activities, and campfire talks—the whole gamut. With team JAB (Jessie, Allison,Brice), I felt prepared for anything.

            But I was not prepared for James.

~~~

            “James,” I said as I entered the tabernacle on that Thursday afternoon. He was already on the stage. “James, please just have a seat for a moment. We can take a deep breath, wait until we’re calm and ready to join the group, and then go have some lunch.”

            “I’m not hungry.”

            “James, this is the special lunch all of the counselors worked hard to prepare for you. Don’t you want to enjoy this last meal we have together for this year of camp?” I was trying very hard to remain patient with this kid. He had been on my last nerve all week long. James never felt accepted at home. His parents let him leave the house for school in the morning, only to return later than a fifth-grader should that evening. James explained to me that there is hardly any communication, and very little interest in what he was doing in school or who he was hanging out with. Not one single adult in James’ life cared about his growing up. I knew that camp was the only place where he was able to embrace the truth of his being loved. I knew that camp was the only where adults were completely invested in his life.  

            I had to continue to love him, and show him that love.

            “Come on, let’s go sit on the benches and enjoy the nice fresh air,” I suggested.

            James wasn’t having it. He grabbed the broomstick we were using earlier for a limbo competition. He started swinging at anything that was near him: the altar, the pews, even me. Nothing too extreme, just lightly tapping everything (I dodged out of the way). But I was on his tail. He was not calming down, and I was not going to give in to his childish behaviors by letting him go without eating. “James. Put the broomstick down. We are going to eat. End of story.” I was beginning to finally lose my patience. James ignored me, and walked outside to the benches. I followed him.

~~~

            On Tuesday I reflect about the Alpha Center. The Alpha Center is one of the coolest places I’ve ever been to. It is a safe haven, giving children of abusive or disregarding homes a safe place to go after school. Showing up into the campers worlds, as opposed to the other way as it works at camp, has such power. Suddenly, the adults who were interested in them for one week of their lives are showing interest past what was expected. We “big people” are staying true to our word: we love these kids.

            And the kids are so excited to show us their world! In the summer before camp, James was playing ski ball. I walked up to him and challenged him to a game. Being the competitive animal he is, he of course accepted. James was a viewfinder in the precision-based game of ski ball. Every one of his throws carefully catapulted into the 50-point hole as if it belonged there. I on the other hand could barely get the ball to be attracted to the 10-point section.

            Fortunately, the center works closely with our camp, and brings a van full of kids to each week. For a week, kids with some of the most gruesome back-stories get to spend a week where they are truly important. Some of the homes that these kids come from are horrendous. There are 11 year olds who could leave the house at 7:30AM and not return until 11:30 PM and whose parents would not even bat an eye or wonder where they were. They have no adults that truly care about them. For one week out of their summer, 20 adults care about them. 20 adults wonder where they are. 20 adults let them know they are special (because, for real, they ARE special).

~~~

            When he arrived on Monday, I immediately knew James would be my special project. Within the first five minutes of getting off the van, a fight had broken out between James and another camper. Blame was being thrown around as to who stole the basketball and who was really out in four square. At that moment, it was my duty to break up the fight. As the director of this week of camp, I had high expectations for myself. I wanted to reach campers in a different light than I had before. James was going to be the one that I wanted to reach. Not because I had to, but because I wanted to. James and I would connect I knew we would.

            And we did. He would have his moments, and I would have to remind myself, “It’s okay, he is only in the 5^th Grade.” He would act out, run away from chapel services, and work me to my last nerve. There were times on Tuesday and Wednesday where I wanted to grab him by the arm and drag him to a place of solitude, to let him “sit there until he realized what he had done.” But I knew that wasn’t the way to handle James.

            On Wednesday, the conversation I had with the J of team JAB, Jessie, helped me understand how to handle James.. “I am at my wits end with this kid,” I said.

            “Brice. He wants you to be at your wits end. He is testing you,” Jessie offered.

            “How so?”

            “You know how he is neglected at home. You know how he is constantly told no and you know how he feels unloved by adults. You’re an adult. He doesn’t know how to react to your unceasing love, because before this the only thing he knew from adults was neglect.” I let the truth of those words sink in. He was really a great kid, and I truthfully did love him. I needed to continue to show him love. I could not give in. “Just remain patient with him. Show him the love you know he deserves,” Jessie finished.

~ ~ ~

            “James,”
            “I’m. Not. HUNGRYYYYYY!!!” He shouted with the most rage I could ever imagine an eleven year old to have. On this Thursday, James was a volcano in the middle of its first big eruption. Suddenly the new scenery became targets for his swinging practice; he brought down several branches full of vibrant leaves in one fell swoop. I decided to keep my distance. But I had finally reached my limit, and could no longer accept this behavior. It was time to show him tough love.

            “James, you will put that broomstick down right now. You will get in line for lunch. And you will sit in the cafeteria until lunch is over. I know you are much better behaved than this, I’ve seen it happen in years before. This is not how a 5^th grader acts, and I expect to see a change in your behavior immediately.” He tried to mention that nobody loved him here. “I LOVE YOU, JAMES!” I cried, my voice echoing among the trees and camp buildings. He mumbled that he didn’t care, and then I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Well you know what, James?” I retorted, “I DO NOT CARE IF YOU DO NOT CARE OR NOT. BECAUSE I STILL LOVE YOU, AND WILL CONTINUE TO LOVE YOU EVEN IF YOU DON’T LOVE ME AND DON’T THINK THAT I DO.” At this point, everyone had gone down into the cafeteria. Except my boss, who had just pulled into our camp to see me pacing around the benches with James, keeping the bench between his swing and me. Her presence didn’t stop me from continuing to love. “EVEN IF YOU SIT UP HERE AND NEVER GO EAT ANOTHER MEAL FROM THE CAFETERIA, I WILL STILL LOVE YOU. EVEN IF YOU HATE ME, I WILL STILL LOVE YOU. BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT I DO, JAMES. I CAN’T HELP BUT LOVE YOU.” The swings of his broomstick were becoming harder and harder. The leaves were the raindrops that always tend to pour in the emotional parts of movies and television sitcoms. “I HAVE SEEN WHAT AN AMAZING KID YOU ARE AND I BELIEVE IN WHO YOU ARE. I WON’T STOP LOVING YOU, BECAUSE I KNOW THAT LOVE IS WHAT YOU NEED. AND LOVE IS WHAT YOU WANT. SO, DON’T CARE. THAT’S FINE. I’M STILL GOING TO LOVE YOU.” His rage had died down, and suddenly his bat became a poker, investigating every hole in the dirt. Calmly. Quietly. Thoughtfully.

~ ~ ~

            On Thursday all of the campers leave. On Thursday they get into their cars to excitedly explain to their families how their best friend poured water on them during “Drip, Drip, Pour” and it was the BEST. THING. EVER.

            On Thursday, James didn’t want to go home.

            You would think he would. After all, it was on Thursday that I laid into him about how much I loved him. It was on Friday that he got into his fight with a camper that sent him into a batting frenzy with a broomstick. But, nope. On Thursday, James wanted to stay at camp.

            “For real nobody loves me at home,” James spoke softly into the open air.

“James. I love you regardless of where you are. Everyone here loves you and will ALWAYS be praying for you. You know that.” I knew I would really be praying for him daily, but I also knew that to an 11-year-old that promise had no weight to it. All he could see was his parents ignoring his excited talk of what happened at camp. His Thursday would look very different than all the other campers.

~~~

            On Thursday all of the campers leave. On Thursday they get into their cars to explain to their families all of the crazy memories they made this week. But not James. On Thursday, James will climb into the van with the rest of the campers from the Alpha Center to plunge headfirst back into the world that they so secretly and internally despised. On Thursday, all of the camp staff will slowly rip their hearts out as they watch the hours of love drive away into a world nobody can wish on a young child.

            James knew I loved him. James knew that he was accepted. James knew that I was proud of the young man he was becoming. It was a tough love, but I am reminded that sometimes kids like James need tough love because it is caring for them at an individual and personal level. I had done my job—survive the week, and love on my campers. It’s campers like James who help me get through each day. I watch him transform from a camper who was so deadest on going home I had to talk him out of walking to his town  (which was a 2-hour CAR DRIVE) while he sat, bags packed, at the entrance to the camp, to a loved Child of God who dreaded traveling into the world he had momentarily escaped.

            James was the first to get on my nerves. James was the first to break my patience. James was the first camper I screamed at. James was the first real tear in my eye as I watched him drive away. Until next summer, James. Until next Summer.

And so it goes..

Getting Through the Holidays

"I just need to get through the holidays, then I'll start the job search."
"I just need to get through the holidays, then I'll be able to relax and work on all the work piling up for school."
"I just need to get through the holidays so that I can get back to a normal schedule."

Lately, I have found myself thinking all three of those sentences. It was just in passing; a fleeting moment. These thoughts are unfortunate, and a horrible way to view the holidays. Christmas has taken on a new perspective for me this year: My family isn't doing much with gifts, and therefore I am able to truly reflect on what Christmas means to me. Christmas is about Jesus-- He is the ultimate gift to the world, and Christmas is our time to reflect on all He is and does in our lives, as a family. How lucky we are to be able to join together as a family, both extended and immediate, to be with each other on this wonderful day! I am truly blessed.

But I wanted to "get through the holidays." That way I could get back to all the things I had been putting off, since I am on "break." But, after some reflection, many questions have arisen.

When did the holidays become a stepping stone, a mere bridge, from one task to the next? When did the holidays end up being this anomaly that we just looked past so that we could "get back to normal"? Why do the holidays have to have such a stressful time that we can't see the true beauty of what the holidays bring?

We have an opportunity, as a family, this holiday season, to get together and celebrate each other. Motives or intentions of being there aside, my ENTIRE immediate family was at the reunion for a lengthy amount of time. How amazing is that! Especially given the crazy schedules and life stages me and my brothers are currently in. We were all able to be there; I was elated, to say the least.

And come Christmas, so many of my family members will be in one spot. Cousins who live far away are here; we can celebrate as a whole extended family. That is a neat opportunity that most don't get to experience.

I don't want to "get through the holidays." I want to use the holidays to get together and love with my family. I want to realize the beauty of my risen Savior and reflect on His birth.

"Getting through the holidays" means we are forfeiting the opportunity to celebrate and reflect on the birth of our Savior and His purpose for our lives.
"Getting through the holidays" means we are letting go of the chance to love with, share with, and be with our families.
"Getting through the holidays" signifies that we are forgetting to live in the present sometimes. Living in the present has such beautiful poignancy that I feel we too often neglect and look past.

And so it goes...

Word Choice

There have been several people in my life who tell me about how much power words contain. I have always known this, but lately I have learned about the true power of words in my life. And it's because of the word choices that I have made that have caused me to realize this power.

If you know me at a relatively close level, you know that I have been experiencing a lot of stress lately. There have been health problems landing me in numerous doctor's offices, such as the ER, all to tell me that I am perfectly healthy and they can't figure out why I am having trouble breathing, or why my heart is hurting. It's caused me to do a lot of self-reflection to try and determine what may be happening in my life. And I've come to the conclusion that I am dealing with depression and anxiety.

When I first determined this, I told some people that I was "suffering" from depression. It's a common phrase I've heard passed around from time to time with various family members and friends who have gone through this experience as well. When other people tell me that they are suffering from depression, it doesn't bother me. However, once I started using it to describe myself, I realized the power of that word: suffering.

Because, see, I'm not suffering. Sure, it's hard for me to get out of bed in the morning. Yes, I lack the normal amount of energy I usually contain. Correct, I do have legitimate anxiety attacks and panic attacks on a weekly basis. But, no. I am not  suffering from depression.
Suffering, to me, sounds like I am being restrained.
Suffering, to me, sounds like I am unable to keep going.
Suffering, to me, sounds like I am helpless.

It was getting me down. Every time I said it. But as I was reflecting on the past weeks, I was floored at the power of God in my life.
Through Christ, I am not struggling to be free. He bought my freedom. Yes, of course I do struggle in life, but I am not struggling to be free. I'm not restrained. (2 Corinthians 3:17)
Through Christ, I'm given the strength to face tomorrow. I can keep pressing on, because I know and believe that I'm going to make it. (Psalm 34:17)
Through Christ, I am granted all the help I need. (Psalm 46:1)
      - I have family/friends who provide comfort and love
      - I have counselors who provide knowledge and wisdom
      - I have a Savior who sees all of my struggles, and pulls me through; a loving Lord who is bigger         than my weaknesses, stronger than my failures, and sees the big picture that is my life.

Instead of saying "suffering" from depression/anxiety, now I say to myself that I am living my life, and working to get through depression. Because I'm still living. Because I have support that is unbelievable. Because I'm going to get through this.

And God is just so good, ya know?

Anyway.. now I'm learning about the power of words. And since my word of the year is "choice", I am making a conscious effort to focus on my word choices when describing things. I have taken time to carefully think about what I'm trying to describe so that my words are accurate and give a full representation of my point.

May my word choices be a reflection of Christ who is shining through me.
May my word choices demonstrate love, support, and be up-lifting.

And so it goes...

Mid-semester Check-in

So.. hello.

Student Teaching is nearing it's half-way point. Which means that I am halfway done with student teaching. Which means I'm halfway through the penultimate step of achieving my dream of becoming a music teacher! (With the ultimate step graduating, of course). Wow. Life is crazy.

Anywho, I thought I would give a mid-semester check in, for those curious (I'll still give it, even for those who aren't curious). If you know me at all, you know I love lists, so prepare yourself.

1. Student teaching is so AWESOME! Wow, I'm presented with such unique and cool opportunities-- I feel so blessed. For example, I got to accompany the Olentangy Orange High School Marching Band to the OSU Skull Session this weekend. I've been to Skull Sessions before, but this time I was on the ground floor, which was WAY cool. Also, I've been able to network with other teachers in the Olentangy School district. I took posters to other elementary schools and met their music teachers. It was nice to get to meet them and get my face out there. I also helped out with the Instrument Fitting night for the 5th graders, so I was able to meet another middle school band director as well as many music representatives from Rettig and Music and Arts.

2. I've learned so much in such a short time. I've learned how I want to do things, and also how I do not want to do things. Not only have I learned a lot about teaching, but I've also learned a ton about myself. Such as the following:

• I get overwhelmed very easily. When I am given multiple tasks to do, even if they're easy, I get very worked up inside and stress out over them. I think it's because I'm a bit of a perfectionist and want to get them done as best as I can and as quickly as I can. But when I feel like I'm not getting them done quick enough, I get very worked up and disappointed in myself.
• I get sick kind of easily. In the short 6 weeks I've been student teaching I have missed a 1.5 days of school due to a nasty cold I was fighting. I also ended up in the nurses clinic because I couldn't breath (I'm still working on that one). My cooperating teacher thinks that it's because I care too much and go too hard, which could be the case.
• I feel most comfortable when I am super prepared. Whenever I get the chance to talk out my lesson with my cooperating teacher the day before, and am therefore able to write out a detailed lesson plan, I feel very confident in my teaching. HOWEVER, I'm getting much better at my teaching on the fly scenario.
• I'm not very organized. I like to pretend I am, but I'm not. And the real kicker is I have the capabilities and methods of being SUPER organized (almost OVER-Organized), but I never take the time to really put my organization methods into place. I'm working on that; it's actually my challenge from my cooperating teacher.
• I'm way too hard on myself, which creates a cycle of craziness linked to my first point.\
• I miss my family more than I could even describe. I've learned that I am a huge family guy. Whenever I talk with my CT (cooperating teacher) about my family, I get choked up because I care about and miss them that much. And it's weird, because generally I see them every Thursday night. But I still miss them.

3. I love band, and am having a great time working in the band world. It has a special place in my heart. HOWEVER, if I had to choose RIGHT NOW, I would say that I would want to work in middle school choir. But, if you've ever listened or read my teaching philosophy, you know that I just love and believe in the power of music as a whole entity, so of course I'll teach wherever God leads me

4. God is my rock and a constant friend. I lean on Him daily to get through each day, because I know I can't get through without Him. I am thankful that He knows my name and hears me when I call. His blessings are always overflowing and the right amount at the same time. 

5. I absolutely despise the SYE projects and TPA that I have to do for my Student Teaching Experience. I see the benefit in both of them, and know they will make me a better teacher and a more well-rounded person; however, I do not like how time consuming and high stakes they feel. They put a lot of pressure on me-- and I wake up every morning feeling nervous because I feel behind in all of it. 

6. I have the best support system in the world. From my cooperating teacher to my supervisor to my friends and family, to my beautiful girlfriend... I am blessed to have people who want to make me a better teacher and a better person.

My Seminar professor said that Student Teaching has a way of bringing out the lessons you need to learn as an individual, even though all of us are experiencing the "same thing." My lessons are to be more organized, to be more thankful, and to continue to improve my teaching craft. All in all, so far student teaching has helped me realize that I chose the perfect career for me and am exactly where I need to be. 

And so it goes...