Q&A Part IV

    I hope you all know I really have no idea what I’m talking about most of the time. I have lots of ideas, but that certainly doesn’t mean they’re right. I really love it when people message me and say, “But have you thought about this?” after they’ve read something I’ve posted.
 
When interacting with somebody who seems emotionally/relationally immature, how do I know if I am really the one who needs to mature in my relationships and emotions? And how does one do the maturing part?
—Mature or Not?
    I think that the very fact you asked this question shows that you have some level of emotional maturity. A hallmark of emotional maturity, after all, is being honest with yourself and asking yourself hard questions. Emotional maturity takes being introspective about your feelings and how and why you react as you do.
    I don’t claim to be emotionally or relationally mature. I know I have a lot of growth to do in those areas. I’m not exactly sure what emotional maturity is supposed to look like. I know that the correct definitions say things down the line of being able to restrain your emotions and reacting in a way appropriate to the situation rather than blowing things out of proportion, but I get really confused about these things that leave some wiggle room.
    Because here’s the deal: Having emotions is OK. Expressing them in a healthy way is good. Emotions won’t always be fun and even expressing them in a healthy way will not always feel good in the moment. So I get stuck trying to figure out the balance between healthy expression and proper restraint. You can tell already I’ll be no help in answering this question.
    If you think emotional maturity means that you will never feel something out of proportion, I don’t think that is right. I believe that emotional maturity is more about how you deal with those big feelings when they well up. It’s more about taking a moment to make a conscious choice. It’s about learning to face your hurt feelings and then intentionally giving them to God.
    In general, maturity is something gained through time and life experience. It’s learning from past mistakes and allowing growth to take place. Maturing is probably more of a process than an end point. Don’t quit trying to grow and mature, but don’t be too hard on yourself if you think it’s not happening fast enough. As long as you have a desire to grow and a willingness to deny self, you’re probably about at the spot where you’re supposed to be.
    As you pointed out in another message you sent me, ourselves are the only people we have any power to change. That is another understanding that comes with maturity, learning to step away from any mentality of being powerless and step toward giving other people grace.
    No, it’s not easy. There will still be days you fail to get your feelings about relationships under control. Don’t be surprised by them. Taking responsibility for one’s own feelings and actions is a very scary but heroic step to take.
    I would encourage you to try digging to the bottom of your big emotions. Often, when I take the time to do this I find that my own insecurities are getting in my way and causing me to overreact. Maybe the interaction has left me feeling dumb which means the other person might not like me. Maybe it hits a nerve of fear that I’ll never be good enough to measure up to those around me. Maybe it left me feeling unlovable.
    All those things cause us to react to someone in a way that seems out of proportion to the interaction. On the surface, the exchange may look like where to stack clean towels or how to make a pitcher of tea and the other person is left startled and dismayed by our reaction to their comment.
    All this is to say that I think God is interested in our emotional maturity. Relationships are important to Him and He wants to help us grow. If we are connected with our Father, He will help us mature throughout our lives in our connections with others.
 
How can we educate parents about what goes on in a child’s brain when they learn to read? How about our new teachers? If the mechanics of reading could be described in laymen’s terms, would the parents of struggling children be more ready to accept help?
—Reading Specialist
 Dear Reading Specialist,
    The most simple and straightforward answer is “I don’t know.”  In fact, I don’t know real answers to any of your questions.
    I do think more education about education could be very helpful. I have a sneaking suspicion that the best course would be lectures given by a skillful public speaker that turned the presentation into something that felt similar to entertainment. We learn more easily if we are entertained in the process, after all, and this is a subject that can easily feel overwhelming and over peoples’ heads.
    The last part of your question is the bit that is challenging. It’s very interesting to observe how people react to the idea that their child might need help. Some of them have struggled in school and are desperate for their child to have help so he “never has to go through what I went through!” Other parents who struggled say things like, “I had to tough it out and he can, too; it’s good for him.”
    Some people don’t like getting help for their children because they feel like they are labeling them. I know this is a terribly controversial subject and something that people often feel strongly about. This is probably the place I would be wise to be quiet, but I do have a couple thoughts on it. The first is that a label should never limit someone. If you find a label is limiting a person’s capabilities, that label is being used as a crutch rather than an aid. Any type of label should be like a pair of glasses in the way that it helps you find ways to move forward.
    My second thought about labels is that if a child is struggling and we don’t label the problem (it’s the problem we’re supposed to label anyway, not the child), the child will often manufacture labels of their own that are far worse, more hurtful, and become core beliefs that can cause life-long effects. Some of the labels they might invent are things like “I’m dumb,” “I’m a failure,” or “I’ll never be good enough.”
    For parents who are open-minded or of a logical bent, explaining the mechanics of reading in laymen’s terms would probably be very helpful. For those who are more skeptical it may not make much of a difference. This is not to say one type of parent is superior to the other. We need both types; it’s just a difference.
    It is a parent’s privilege to decide if they want to seek help for their child or not. It is their prerogative whether they choose to find a label. I believe it is important to respect parents’ decisions for their children in these areas.
 
What is proper phone etiquette for WhatsApp?
—Reflecting in the Southwest
    I had to Google this. I could’ve come up with something to say, of course, but Google has a ready-made list which I can just comment on. Are you sure you’re ready?
    One of the first things that is important is being aware of other people’s schedules. In other words, don’t send messages really early or extremely late. For some of us it won’t matter because we keep our phones on silent, but there are those who might be disturbed. Think about this when crossing time zones. (I keep forgetting. It’s not my fault that almost everyone I know lives in central time, is it?)
It’s respectful to reply in a timely fashion. I don’t think this means we have to answer immediately. Some messages take answers that need a little time to marinate, but we shouldn’t leave messages on read for too long without some type of response—even if it’s just saying, “Hey, let me think about that and get back with you.”
    In a group chat you should participate in a positive way without dominating the conversation. This one is interesting to me because I know participation in groups (I’m not talking about a group of 500 here, by the way—think a group of eight or ten or even only five) can vary according to personality.
    I once taught school with some certain people who almost refused to answer on the group chat, even though there were only three or four of us on it. This made figuring things out a little challenging to say the least. We did have a good relationship, and they were free to share their opinions face to face, but they would hardly say a word on the chat. I fall into the ditch of talking too much if it’s a small chat. On one as large as, say, thirty people, my participation may decrease immensely. My view of this is that we should be willing to share but not be terribly judgmental if someone else’s habits on a chat are different than my own, because there are probably a lot of different circumstances involved as well.
    Privacy is a real and precious thing. As a general rule don’t forward messages, images, etc., without asking permission first. Also, be sure your information is accurate before passing it on.
    Some people love emojis and stickers while others hate them. Google informs us we need to be cautious of over-use. What that means might be different for different people. I enjoy a good emoji, but there are many times old-fashioned words are even better. Often, girls for sure, will use emojis as a way to try to communicate the right feeling when they’ve typed something out. As in, “I know I made a comment that sounded a little rude, but I still love you.” If we find ourselves overcompensating for our words too many times, we should probably think about revising our messages.
    If you must send a fifteen-minute voice message, be prepared for the fact the recipient may never listen to it. Keep voice messages a reasonable length or consider breaking them down into bites that are easier to handle.
    I’m not sure if this fits in with just WhatsApp, but in today’s world it is considered respectful to send a message asking if it’s a good time to call. Of course, this only applies to situations where you just want to chat or have a conversation about certain topic. No need to message me first if you see my house is on fire.
    Some people believe there is a whole etiquette lesson around leaving group chats. Sources online suggest you should notify an administrator before leaving a group. While that may be applicable in some situations, there are times it’s OK to just leave, too. However, there is such a thing as leaving with bad timing. If I’ve just poured out my heart and asked for support and you choose the next two minutes to leave the group, things probably don’t look too great for our relationship in the future. You’d do better to mute the chat for a couple of days and then leave gracefully.
    In our communities, most of us know and trust one another, but it is still advisable to ask permission before passing on someone’s contact information. At the very least notify the party in question that “I gave your number to so-and-so because they needed someone to talk to about making pottery and I thought you’d be a good one.”
    These are all things that most of us know instinctually. Respect and the Golden Rule can cover a lot of bases here, too. While it would be nice if everyone used good etiquette or followed rules that I think are appropriate, remember some folks don’t place their napkins in their laps, either, and they are still perfectly pleasant to be around.
 
How are we single girls that are older supposed to fit in with our age group that are married? Do we just invite ourselves to one family’s place? Especially when you don’t have close family in your area.
—Single and in Want of Social
Dear Single,
    If you think I have any good, down-to-earth suggestions here, you are definitely wrong. I’ve moved around enough to know that it can just be straight up complicated.
    It does seem that the burden of responsibility often rests on the shoulders of us single girls to find a way to fit in socially. While youth and young marrieds and middle age marrieds sort of have their natural groups, we are a bit of an anomaly. Most of us aren’t lucky enough to live in a place with a ready-made group of singles. I’m not complaining, I’m just saying that’s how it is.
    I am absolutely the worst person to be talking about this because it’s terribly hard for me to do, but inviting ourselves over to someone else’s place is probably the first step. I think this is hard because we feel like we might not be really wanted. It may feel like we are intruding and being a burden. But I believe God wants us to fight those feelings, grab His hand, and be a little more vulnerable than what comes naturally.
    That being said I would still advise caution against just choosing a family and attaching oneself like a leech. If they invite you, that’s great, but don’t be hurt if they choose to do things without you sometimes, too. This actually gives you a greater blessing in the long run because it allows you to form relationships with two or three different families.
    Also, one of the things I like about being an older single girl is that I don’t feel like I have to fit in with my age group. Don’t get me wrong, I love being with other girls—married or not—who are similar to my age, but I also have so much freedom to be friends with people of all age groups. I can sit at the feet of wisdom when I am with the older women and enjoy the enthusiasm of random youth girls as well.
    It is important that we learn how to lose sight of ourselves and look for ways we can serve in our congregations. Volunteering and showing up when we can will help us feel like part of the group. It will also help others see us as part of the group. I know this can be challenging at times. For example, we can’t show up at a cleaning day when someone is moving into a new house because we are holding down a job, but we can help set tables or wash dishes at a potluck.
    And remember invitations go both ways! Maybe it’s way out of your comfort zone to invite someone over for a meal, but ask them to come after church on Sunday night. We single girls can get really attached to our ideas about our schedules and how we want our lives to run, but if we want a social life we will have to give up some of that predictability and be willing to branch out and be creative.
    We can’t afford to sit and feel sorry for ourselves, of that I am certain. I’m amazed how many of the married folks say they don’t do much with other people, either. Some of the young wives are very lonely and don’t feel that they fit in, either. Fitting in might be a little extra challenging for us single girls, but the reality is we aren’t the only ones who find it difficult.
    So I wish you a special refuge where you can relax and have your needs for social life met. It may happen in a way or at a place you’ve never thought of.
  
What are some questions you’d like answers on?
—From the Bayou State
    I can’t believe my luck! What a perfectly brilliant thing to ask me. It just so happens I have dozens of questions in my head at just about any time and I search for the right people to ask and how to slip them into conversations, but often I struggle finding the correct time and place and just get myself into awkward situations. Actually awkward silences might be better put. Without further ado, some of them are as follows:
 
·          How can we gain more “group spirit,” whether that is congregational, youth, or school?
·          Do you have an opinion on rooms painted black?
·          I keep getting distracted in church by the beautifully curved trim on the wavy walls of the rostrum. How do they get wood to curve like that? I’m sure all the men out there know the answer, and probably a lot of women, but I don’t, and I’ve refrained from Googling.
·          “Fake it ‘til you make it,” they say. What are signs that faking it has turned into the real thing? I’m thinking in areas like confidence and learning to have a conversation.
·          If you are driving uphill with a ten-pound weight (not fastened down) on a smooth surface of your vehicle, what is the fastest speed you can be traveling for the weight to not move at all when you hit the brakes? I’m sure the grade of the hill and who knows what all makes a difference, but I was thinking about this the other day and I’d love somebody to throw some numbers at me. I’d be curious about all the variables and experimenting with different weights, too.
·          What is a book, poem, or song that you have come across that feels like a hidden treasure because it is not well-known, but you think it’s amazing?
·          What is your opinion on humanoid robots created to be healthcare workers, teachers, etc.? Do you think they have a place in the future? Would you be intrigued or creeped out by having a robot nurse?
·          Do you have family traditions at Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, or any other time? What are they?
·          Is it possible or important to teach our children and youth to dress in a way that is flattering to them rather than just following the styles? Not every style looks good on every person, but everyone does want to fit in, and that might not be all bad, either.
·          What are some dreams that have come true for you besides marriage and/or children?
·          If you had to choose something you enjoy to go a year without, what would it be?
·          What is your favorite non-harmful prank you have ever observed or been part of?
·          What is it that you love about the colors you have an affinity for?
·          What are some ways God has led your life?
·          What is the last compliment you gave someone?
·          If we put giant QR codes on the back of semi-trailers that led to random jokes or funny advertisements, do you think they would be considered a safety hazard and have laws made against them?
·          Why do people in our communities believe in torturing newlyweds? It’s possible for the vehicle to have things done to it at the send-off, the house might get decorated while the couple is gone on the honeymoon, and more so-called pranks might get pulled during the pancaking ritual. Pancaking seems to have things in common with an old-fashioned shivaree, but even so, that was a one-time deal, not three chances for destruction.
·          How do you make friends after you get out of the youth? Everyone is so busy with their own lives and families it can seem challenging. (OK, I admit it, I stole this one from a conversation I had with a friend who talked about struggling to make friends after she married and moved into a new congregation, but it’s still a good question, and I’m curious what others think.)
 
    Believe it or not, I have more questions I'd like to ask someone. I would positively love answers to absolutely any of the things I asked here. Please message me personally or leave answers in the comments. If you are passionate about something, I don’t mind reading long pages of script, either. Or best of all, meet me somewhere and we can have all sorts of exciting conversations face to face.

    In other news, I still have a few questions left for at least one more installation of this series. If that's a good thing or a bad thing I cannot tell. Thanks for the support and participation!
 

Q&A Part III

 And still more questions and answers.
 
What was your favorite part of going to girls’ class?
—Just a Girl Who Loves Her Coffee
Dear Girl Who Loves Coffee,
    I want to say that class was one of the most amazing experiences of my life, and I wouldn’t trade that group of girls or our instructor for anyone. I think it’s impossible to pick a single favorite part. One of my favorite things was the fact that we were such a small group and that many of us already knew each other so well, but learned to know one another even better. 

Yet the most precious moments were sitting around the table sharing hearts (“Lord, keep an arm around my shoulders and a hand over my mouth” comes back as a memorable quote). Singing and devotions also have many good memories, as well as the one day we were sprawled all over the sanctuary writing essays. 

There are funny little moments that bring back a smile, like the fact that the “Africa girls” got stuck under the air conditioning vents and the appalling table manners of some certain people who didn’t know how to pass things and referenced loogies at mealtime. There were also jeep rides (ya’ll know who you were, sneaking in extras at night) and sitting around the mouth of a cave writing compliments for each other.
    But one cannot reference class without bringing up the Dummy in the Toilet. This is a frivolous event, completely unrelated to the real heart-things of class. If this causes you a problem, stop reading now. If you wish to continue, be aware I have done my best to protect the innocent—or maybe those who are not. Perhaps it’s time for a little soul-cleansing. The version of the story told here has been shortened to include only the highlights. I apologize if the events are incorrectly recorded.
    Shortly before girls’ class commenced, a wedding had taken place in the congregation. As so often happens, the best man, being a youth brother of great—shall we say, creativity? —decorated the newlywed’s yard with, among other things, a toilet.
    This started a bit of a war between the best man and the couple, with the toilet being unceremoniously passed back and forth. Its last resting place was to the side of the couple’s driveway, right by the road. The couple chose the introduction evening of girls’ class to exact some revenge by writing a stunning advertisement on the windows of a certain truck in the yard. It contained things such as “I’m still searching” and one stipulation: “needs to be thrifty.” The young man, in youthful wisdom, withdrew from the yard before any of the girls actually got the number written down.
    This might have been the end of things, but fate had other plans.
    Two of the most innocent girls in attendance ended up staying with the best man’s family for the last half of class. One evening, while the men of the house were out of earshot, the story of the toilet war was broached. Inspiration hit suddenly as it was told. 

“Hey! You know what would be funny? If somebody would stuff a pair of blue jeans and put boots on the pant legs and put it waist down in the toilet! It would look like somebody fell in!” It was only a matter of minutes until plans were being completed. The women of the home would gather supplies during the day, and the class girls would carry out the deed that evening. The menfolk were to remain ignorant until things were well into the final stages.
    It was Saturday, the last day of class. The youth brought supper to church and played volleyball until around 10:00. One of the youth girls was to be the chauffer for the two who were involved with the plot involving the dummy. The little Mazda was pulled around to the basement door and loaded with supplies. A pair of blue jeans was stuffed with hay, amidst much giggling. The poles needed to support the legs were too long to fit properly in the car, so they were left hanging out of an open window as the car traversed the winding roads to the scene of the crime.
    Stealthily, the trio made their way in the dark to the toilet, which they filled with dirt. It took a few tries before the dummy (christened George) was properly installed, but eventually all was deemed perfection, and the girls fled back toward the house and rest.
    Sunday morning dawned beautifully, and most of the churchgoers passed the guy in the toilet on their way to the morning service. Everyone knew the best man had to have been responsible. Who else would have done such a thing?
    After church there was a commotion in the back of the building as the couple confronted the best man, who protested vigorously, saying he had had nothing to do with such a scheme.
    “Well, why did we hear your pickup gunning around?”
    “Oh, there were some traffic problems.”
    “Not on this road at 10:00 at night there wasn’t!”
    “Well, I didn’t do it.”
    “You expect me to believe that? If you didn’t do it, you had someone else do it! You were in on it in some way!”
    The best man kept maintaining his innocence. “In the dictionary, if you look by the word innocent, you will find my name. I told you, I was sleeping!”
    One of the class girls could resist no longer. “No, he didn’t do it. He has witnesses. He was at home.”
    “What? You were at his house?”
    “Yes.”
    The best man jumped on this claim. “And there’s a second witness, too!”
    The other innocent raised her hand. “Yeah, he was home sleeping. I heard him snoring over in his chair in the corner.”
    The couple had no choice but to drop the case in mystification and go home.
    The story could end there. It probably should end there. But it doesn’t.
    That night, after the program, the girls were driving around the community, most of them in the back of a pickup, when they passed the dummy, still woefully waving his legs out of the toilet bowl. Someone had a brilliant idea. “Girls! We should take that thing and put it in the back of the best man’s pickup!”
    Together, they loaded the toilet bowl, tank, and now-sodden legs of the dummy into the bed of the truck.
    It was nearing midnight as the pickup pulled into the yard of the best man’s family’s home. Amid much laughter, the deed was done. Unfortunately, the tailgate of his pickup fell off in the process. As three of the girls strove to return it to its place, the rest of the anxious watchers saw them suddenly duck down, as if hiding. When they raced back to the waiting truck, loud whispers ensued: “Hush! There’s a window open!” “Girls! It looked like there was something white at that window!”
    Quickly, the pickup was turned around and the group left as (quietly?) as they had come.
    A few years later, when the class girls held a mini reunion at the congregation, a toilet mysteriously appeared on the porch of the house where they were staying. I guess it’s true, what goes around comes around.
    Is it coincidence that this Q&A series has brought two dummy stories to light? You can decide.
 
What do you think about teaching a foreign language in our parochial schools? How much will the children retain? If they don’t put their hearts into it, will it be worth it?
—Foreign Language Guru
    This is an interesting question to think about. I believe I’ll have to take it piece by piece.
    What do I think about teaching a foreign language in our parochial schools? Well, since I support just about everything deemed remotely educational, I would say I think it’s a great idea! However, I understand there are some caveats to putting this into practical application. One of those would be that many of our teachers do not know a foreign language. Foreign language can be difficult to teach if one knows nothing about it. There is also a dearth of foreign-language curriculum available and approved for our schools, particularly for younger students.
    I’m not sure if you are thinking about teaching a foreign language as an extra subject, or if you are thinking more down the lines of “We’ll say five words each time we go into the classroom.” Because if you are thinking about adding an extra subject, many teachers, for sure those in three-grade-classrooms, barely have time for the subjects they already struggle to impart.
    Another thing to consider is that around 20% of children find memorizing extremely difficult. Foreign language, in its most simple form, is memorizing a bunch of random letters and sounds. Those who struggle to memorize things in their native language will find memorizing a foreign language that seems nonsensical extremely difficult! Fun fact here: Many colleges require students to study a foreign language. If you have an official diagnosis of something that makes memorizing difficult, such as dyslexia, most will accept American Sign Language as your foreign language because movements and pictures are easier to memorize than random sounds. ASL and BSL (British Sign Language) are enough different it is difficult to cross communicate using the two, unlike speakers of, for example, Spanish and Portuguese.
    How much will the children retain? That depends entirely on the individual. Like many of the things one learns in school, even your most brilliant child may forget some if they do not continue to practice. However, there would be the hope that like those pesky formulas and equations, if they get into “real life” and are put in a situation where they will use the language, it might come back to them easier and make them more enthused to understand and pursue it on their own.
    If they don’t put their hearts into it, will it be worth it? If the teacher is enthused, usually the students will be enthused. If they are struggling with enthusiasm, find ways to make it fun. Play a game or learn a song or poem with actions. Maybe learn new words by translating their favorite jokes and seeing if they are still funny!
    My opinion is that if teaching a language is something you are enthused about, it will be worth it in some way. The discipline of learning any new skill is a valid tool that can be used many ways in life. Learning a language may inspire a love for languages or a desire to explore other cultures that helps lands someone in the mission field one day. If you are hoping to see an immediate payoff, you might be disappointed, but I believe that expanding our children’s education by introducing a foreign language will certainly have benefits at some point.
    Veil Glück!
 
What is something you love to do?
—From the Bayou State
    How long do you have to listen?
    There are many things I love to do. I love to sing. I love visiting museums. I love heart-pounding moments in an escape room. I love lurking in lonely old graveyards reading tombstones from a hundred or two hundred years ago. I love quiet moments full of deep thoughts by an ocean or a river or a waterfall. I love to create things, whether an actual item or just words arranged on a page like they’ve not been arranged before. I love learning new, strange, and wonderful facts and going on little adventures, like visiting an abandoned house, or bigger adventures, like experiencing a new country. I love a good debate, as long as it stays friendly.
    But what I really love is learning about people. I like to watch them from afar. I like to listen to them nearby. I like to hear their stories and their humor and their hearts. Can I meet you at a coffee shop sometime?
 
What are some tips for communication?
—Reflecting in the Southwest
    This is a really hard one.
    I could give you all the textbook answers and right words, but that’s probably not what you want.
    The first two things that come to my mind in regards to communication are honesty and love.
    Now, this doesn’t mean we have to say something just because it is true (do a little research on those who believe in complete candor in radical honesty, literally just saying whatever thought comes to their mind). However, we do need to be willing to broach uncomfortable topics with our honest thoughts. The secret lies in doing so with love. What is the kindest, most compassionate way you can bring up the topic? How can you show that you are willing to change your opinion and are honestly interested and willing to hear the other side of the story? If you take self out of the equation and approach the situation through the perspective of being a sinner in need of a Savior, you will likely find yourself taking on a new softness and humility in your conversation.
    Not communicating can be, in many cases, even more hurtful than harsh communication. Avoidance of a topic can build walls where the parties involved try to make guesses at what the other one is thinking.
    Something I learned several years ago is that when my sister asked for my opinion, what she actually wanted many times was my approval. This realization has helped our communication tremendously! Now I know I need to ask her, “Do you want options for how you can do that, or do you want me to just say my opinion on what you’ve already done?”
    Many times I’ve sat in schoolboard meetings where the teachers and board members struggle to get on the same page. A few perceptive chairmen have asked, “Are you looking for answers, or are you just sharing what’s going on?” It’s a little frustrating to spend thirty minutes mulling over a problem when the teacher was just trying to give an update because that’s what’s expected.
    So I guess I would say part of good communication is asking questions and making sure you understand not only what was said, but the thought process behind it. This can be hard, because we are very given to making assumptions. We assume that other people’s brains are working in the same way as ours is. This is rarely the truth.
    Another thing I want to give a moment to is body language and tone.
    In a face-to-face interaction, Albert Mehrabian, a professor of psychology, indicates in his research that 55% of communication is body language, 38% is tone of voice, and only 7% is words.
    Whatever feelings you are harboring inside will probably show on the outside. Your words might have nothing wrong with them whatsoever, but the tone has implications that would make a grizzly bear turn tail and run. Or maybe you’re communicating with your child about something they’ve done wrong and you are out of patience. A firm tone is great, but what do they see when they look in your eyes? When someone comes to talk to you about a problem, do you fold your arms and take refuge behind a table or desk?
    We would do well to monitor ourselves in some of these areas. One place I struggle is when I’m deep in my thoughts or focusing on something else entirely and someone asks me a question. I am wont to give an abrupt, harsh-sounding answer. I’m not upset at them, only distracted, but it might sound like I am angry. My family has let me know I need some practice in this area.
    One of the most important things we have to do in communicating with others is something that often feels counterintuitive, and that is extend trust to them. Giving them the benefit of your trust means that you also give them the benefit of the doubt. We choose to believe what they told us. A lot of us women, for sure, tend to listen to someone’s words and mentally brush them off with excuses, such as “they were just being nice,” or “she’d never really say what she thought anyhow.” When we are projecting our thoughts and feelings on other people, our communication has little chance of success. Do your best to believe that they want good in the situation as much as you do. Approach the conversation with your only preconceived idea being that you are both on the same team.
    This is simplified, of course. I know there are complicated situations out there with a backlog of emotions that don’t have a clear-cut and simple answer. Our only recourse in those circumstances is to approach them with much prayer.
    Now, with all that being said, do as I say, not as I do. Communication has been a learning curve throughout my life that has lasted many years, and I don’t see it ending any time soon.
 
Why don’t you just become a columnist? Ask Annette instead of Ann Landers?
—From the Comment Section
    This is a most frightening suggestion I’ve seen in a while.
    I have read many columnists in my day—Ann Landers, Dear Abby, and Miss Manners to name a few. (Did you know Ann Landers and Dear Abby were identical twins?) Their answers have always intrigued me. But let me inform you of the reasons I could never be a advice columnist.
    The first one should be obvious: I can’t even figure out my own life, much less other people’s. Add to that, I don’t want to take the responsibility of giving advice that doesn’t turn out.
    Furthermore, I may have been heard deriding some of the advice given in said columns because I felt it was trying too hard to be culturally appropriate or people pleasing. That being said, it’s likely I would fall into the same pattern. And while I’m having fun answering all these questions, I’m pretty sure it would stop being fun if I had to do it year-round.
    Thank you for your vote of confidence, even if I do prefer to give opinions and theories rather than advice.
    And honestly? I think we have the most amazing base of people ready to give Godly advice right in our midst. You probably sat next to someone Sunday morning who could impart much gracious wisdom if you only asked.
 
I have enough questions left for another post or two. I have been highly entertained by all the questions. I mentioned to one friend that the questions people send in are certainly different than the ones I am used to getting from my third and fourth grade boys. Which, make no mistake, I enjoy both.
Thanks for reading!

Q&A Part II

 Here are more questions and answers. Read at your own risk.
 
How can we focus on others and not ourselves? How do we show love to anybody and everyone?
—Reflecting in the Southwest
    I do not have answers, just ideas and theories that I struggle to live out in real life. So if you want solid advice go ask someone else.
    My opinion is that we cannot show love to anybody and everyone without learning to focus on others rather than ourselves. But that very premise is entirely contrary to human nature. We are acutely aware of ourselves and our emotions and our own comfort. To be able to focus on someone else, we have to care more about their comfort than our own. It goes without saying this is only possible with the help of God, and even then we will have to contend with our humanness.
    However, all that being said, I think the best step you can take in learning to focus on others is learning to accept yourself and who you are in Christ. When I have accepted who I am, I become comfortable with my faults and with my abilities. I’m not spending time comparing myself with those around me. I’m not trying to live up to some standard in my head that I think will make me be “enough.”
    When I’ve truly accepted that I am not perfect and that God loves imperfect me just because He is God and God is Love, I am overwhelmed by His goodness. Because I am basking in His love rather than trying to earn His love, I find less room for judging others in my heart. I begin to understand that others, like myself, have been designed by the Creator with positive traits He wishes to use and negative traits He plans to refine for His glory.
    I’m sure someone will ask me, “What does that look like in practical, every-day life?”
    One time I was at a woman’s house for a meal. One of her dishes came out of the oven somewhat burnt. She never apologized to the guests, she just said, “It’s a little burnt. Feel free to scrape that part off if you want.” That impressed me immeasurably. Her complete humility and realness about the situation made everyone feel comfortable. No one felt the need to struggle trying to eat the burnt parts. No one was compelled to jump in with the near-white-lie of “Oh, it’s not too bad.” We felt comfortable around her table because she was comfortable with herself and her own abilities.
    Princess Diana was called “The People’s Princess” for a reason. It was because she had the ability to make others comfortable around her. If you look at pictures of her interacting with children and those who are ill, you will nearly always find her stooping down, her eyes looking into theirs. That’s what it looks like to make someone else comfortable.
    Sometimes it might mean getting down a child’s level. Sometimes it means sitting or stooping to be at eye level with someone in a wheelchair. It might mean wearing something a little different to make the visitor feel she fits in. Maybe it’s uncomfortable physically, maybe it makes you different from those around you, but you do it without a sense of embarrassment or making excuses because it makes things comfortable for them. By doing this, you are building a connection. Making someone else feel comfortable and connected is the best way of loving them.
    But like I said, that’s my opinion. There are likely many facets to loving others that have never crossed my mind.
 
Why do the parents of the bride have to carry the greater expense for a wedding in our North American culture?
—Wedding Wonderer
    Finally! A question I could do some research on and get solid answers for. Maybe.
    If we go back to Bible times, we discover bride price (Genesis 24, Genesis 29, Judges 1:14-15). In these scenarios, the groom was responsible for compensating the family of the girl he wished to marry for the loss of the work she did in the household. He was also often expected to give several valuable gifts to the bride herself.
    Historians tell us there is evidence of bridal dowry in ancient Babylon around the year 2300 BC. This type of dowry was things of worth or money the bride took with her to her new home to help compensate for the responsibility and cost the groom was taking on with his marriage. I’m not sure where the Biblical accounts fall in the timeline of world history, but it appears that with the Biblical references and the historical tradition, bride price and dowry were happening at the same time in different cultures.
    The answer to your question, then, is determined by where those cultures spread to. I don’t know much information about how the spread happened (anyone who can explain, feel free to drop me a message or leave a comment), but I will tell you what I do know.
    Dowry, as practiced in Babylon, was alive and well in Medieval Europe. This practice continued past the Dark Ages and into the Age of Discovery. Thus, when Europeans began moving to North America, this is the practice that came with them. In fact, the tradition of dowry did not fade out of American practice until the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries. It appears that the bride’s family paying for the wedding eventually became the modern dowry—a compensation for the financial burden now placed on the groom as he prepares a home and provides for the bride.
    The practice of bride price is also still alive in many countries such as Uganda, Zimbabwe, Kenya, Burkina Faso, India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh, as well as in many parts of Asia and the Pacific Islands.
    Many modern couples (according to Google) are choosing to split the wedding cost more evenly between the two families. Maybe that makes the most sense beings the world as a whole hasn’t come to an agreement as to whether the bride’s family deserves compensation because of the loss of labor or whether the groom deserves compensation for his new burden of responsibility.
    Or maybe it just makes things easy for everyone if we rely on tradition and don’t have to have awkward discussions about money.
 
Why are single women expected to give up their beds to company, but married people aren’t?
—Obliged to Entertain
Dear Obliged,
    I am sorry. If it’s any comfort, know that you are not alone in your distress. Apparently, single people the globe over feel they are burdened with the sacrifice of giving up their beds to married people. Do a quick internet search if you want to see all the reasons a single woman giving up her bed is considered more practical. There are many related to social expectation and how well-acquainted people staying in the same house are with one another.
    But my heart of hearts is telling me you don’t really want all those answers. You just want someone to hear your frustration. So here I am. I heard you. Maybe giving up your bed makes you feel like you don’t matter. Maybe it seems that, once again, those who are married are more respected. I’m not sure what the hurt is that comes with it. And then, on top of that, you probably start feeling awful about yourself since now you feel like a selfish person because you don’t want to give up your bed!
    My only advice is to buy yourself a bed with a single mattress. It’s a pretty safe bet no one will expect you to give it up to someone else. Or get a dog and train it to howl loudly all night unless it is allowed to sleep in the bed. That might do the trick as well.
 
What is your real opinion on Sean of the South?
—A Neighbor
    Well, I have never met the man in person as some of my friends have. I have never read a single one of his books. I read his daily column maybe 50% of the time, if I round up the average. So my opinion on Sean of the South is limited to say the least.
    Here is what I have gleaned from what I have read:
    First, he has overcome personal tragedy and managed to live a resilient life. I respect anyone who is able to do that.
    Second, I envy his ability to sprinkle bits of humor into his writing in the same way one of my co-teachers salted her food—that is to say liberally. And I admire it doubly because it makes the things he writes about often more palatable to his readers.
    Third, I think he works to stay as inoffensive as possible while being truthful about both what he believes and what he doesn’t understand. That’s a tricky line to walk and I admire his sense of balance.
    At the end of the day, Sean of the South is human with human problems.
    But then again, so am I.
 
Why does it look like life just turns out for some people and not for others, no matter how much they trust? I’m thinking about the girl who made good grades in school, wins at everything, is creative, and doesn’t even have to get a real job because she marries the boy she’s liked since schooldays, while some of us have to give up a lot of things we want, hold down a job when we’d much rather be keeping house, and have health issues or other problems to work through. Alone.
—Trying to Trust
    Oh, dear Trying, I’d like to give you a hug.
    Life can be disappointing sometimes. But are you ready for the truth? I’m not sure you’ll like it much. But then again, you knew when you asked that there weren’t any easy answers, no clear-cut direction, no solutions that would fix everything.
    One thing I want to say before I go any further is that I think the amount of trust we have is irrelevant to the situation. God has promised we need only have faith as a mustard seed. The matter of importance is where that faith is placed. And placing our faith in God is only half the story. We have to believe in the bigness of our God. We must recognize the love of our God. We have nothing to stand on unless we have complete conviction in His desire for our good.
    Who decides what “life turning out” really is? It’s easy to get caught up in believing that the traditional path—easy school years, fun youth life, getting married, having children, growing old with someone else—is the recipe for a life turning out, but I don’t think it’s that straight forward. I’ve heard enough married people who envy their single friends that I think things are a bit more complicated than they appear. Who’s to say that “turning out” isn’t a fulfilling career in education or traveling the world or maybe just inviting people over to your house for brunch?
    I believe what a life “turned out” looks like is something we each decide in our own hearts. It has to do with learning to submit to God’s plan for our lives, no matter what it is. It’s more to do with acceptance and less with expectation.
    Of course, we don’t like to be told we can’t have something. We want to make that choice ourselves. To submit to God’s plan is the ultimate laying down of our strong-willed nature. And we ridiculous humans (or at least me) are so often pathetically strong willed in all the wrong ways!
    Most of the amazing people I have learned to know in my life have overcome tremendous disappointments. Some are married and have children, but some are not. Many have suffered physical or mental health issues, deaths in their families, abusive relationships, or financial hardships. Sometimes it looks like they’ve suffered all of those things, yet they are the kindest, most positive, gentle people I know. They have come through the fire as gold. They have become the victor, not the victim. They have learned to be vulnerable enough to love those around them in spite of the danger of being hurt again and again.
    That’s not to say it’s easy. Being single isn’t easy, but neither is being married. I’ve observed enough to know that. You have too, I’m sure. If it’s any comfort to you, the beautiful, intelligent, creative girl who marries the boy she’s liked since schooldays will most certainly not always have everything perfect. The more we learn to know someone else’s heart, the more we come to understand that everyone meets challenging things in life at some point.
    I believe that, while God allows difficulties in our lives, He does not stand around handing them out to us needlessly. I also believe “rain falls on the just and the unjust.” Some things we will never know why He allowed, and we have to learn to be OK with that empty space of not knowing. Other things He allows because He knows it will lead us closer to Him if we can accept it. But that’s where the hard stuff comes in, in the laying down of our desires enough to allow ourselves to be drawn closer to God.
    It’s never done me any good to ask “Why?” when it comes to my life. I’m not sure if it’s ever done good for anyone. “Why?” is so often a question of confrontation. It’s suggesting to God that I would have made better choices than He has, that I would have come up with answers He hasn’t thought of. At it’s very root, “Why?” is, in essence, not completely trusting in His goodness.
    So often I find myself being like a little kid throwing a temper tantrum. My Heavenly Father is trying to hold me close in His big, strong embrace, and there I am, kicking and screaming and struggling to beat the band. That’s not a pretty picture.
    As long as I’m struggling, I’m alienating the One who cares about me the most. Sometimes I hardly recognize I’m struggling at all. I think I’m submitted enough. I think I’m trusting enough. But then He reminds me of the way I worry or stress or take on cares that He doesn’t mean for me to bear, and I realize I’m straining just a little in His arms. I’m leaning away from He who will never let me be truly alone.
    This isn’t really an answer to your question, just a bunch of rambling thoughts that seemed connected somehow. I won’t pretend to know how you really feel about your life, where your trust is, or whether you’re submitted, but I do have confidence that you are committed to being a Christian, whatever that takes and regardless of what dreams you have to give up. I wish you many blessings.
 
Do you like sloths?
—A Reader
    OK, I really wish I knew who asked this one, but you showed up in the comment section as Anonymous on my last post, so I have no idea how much of the history you know here. This is a question fraught with many dangers. There is definitely not a simple yes or no answer.
    Before I proceed, let me say I don’t remember if I’ve ever seen a sloth in real life. It’s possible I’ve seen one at a zoo, but I honestly cannot remember.
    A number of years ago I became unreasonably fascinated with sloths. The same thing has happened in the past with camels as some of you may remember, but sloths were different. I researched them as much as I was able, and discovered that we had a lot in common. For example, sloths are highly misunderstood animals. In the early 2000’s, research finally began to be done on sloths in the wild rather than sloths in captivity. This new information showed that sloths in the wild only slept about ten hours a day, rather than the twenty hours suggested by earlier research on captive sloths.
    Misunderstood? I could identify with that. People who know me in different circumstances definitely get different sides of my personality. Also, sloths are rather solitary creatures. There are some who like to swim. They live in trees! It was my childhood dream to live in a house in a tree (probably after reading  Miss Twiggley’s Tree by Dorothea Warren Fox). And they are slow. So am I. I’ve never been one to whip around and get things done at a high rate of speed like some people I know. I appreciate that trait in others, but somehow I just can’t do it myself. I can also be a little slow at catching on to some of the most obvious things. And because I saw such a parallel for myself in this creature, I adopted it as my mascot.
    People who knew about this fascination started sending me sloth pictures and puns and gifting me items with sloths on them. But then it all fell apart.
    Sloths hit the mainstream. Suddenly they were absolutely everywhere—on children’s pajamas, tea towels, backpacks, fabric, and so on. I saw something about people who were renting sloths for birthday parties and other special occasions. I was horrified.
    Sloths were my own thing, my private quirk, and now I was suddenly just part of a crowd of sloth-followers.
    Maybe I would have been OK with it if people really knew about sloths, but this mainstream sloth crowd had no idea. For them, sloths were just a cutesy fun fad. They adored the lovable little images they saw on a pair of socks, but didn’t know the real-life version grew algae on its fur and supported its own mini ecosystem.
    I was thrown into a quandary. To stay committed to my sloth mascot meant being mistaken for one of the mainstream followers, and I’ve never loved fads. Or maybe I’m just proud. Whatever the case, it quickly became a problem for me. I could hardly keep liking sloths when everyone else did.
    And so I decided to just be quiet about liking sloths. I’m still interested in information about them. I would still like to meet one in person. But I’ve moved on to other interests, other things to research, other new favorites.
    There.
    You probably didn’t expect that long of an answer for such a simple question.
    You also understand at this point that when I asked someone, “Do you like sloths?” there was a lot more going on than just a simple question. Your answer might have made or broken a friendship.
    Just kidding.
    Maybe.
 
    I think I need to learn to be less wordy, but I’m having a lot of fun thinking and writing about the random topics you all have sent me, so thank you!
    I’m not at the end of my list of questions yet, and if you have another one for me you are still welcome to leave it in the comments or send it to me in a private message. Of course, if you’re getting bored with this format, that’s fine, too. I’m sure it’s not nearly as fun for you as it is for me.

Q&A Part I

    I posted a status on WhatsApp the other day asking people to send me questions to write about. Here are some I received.

 Are you coming to see me before school starts?
—A Faraway Friend
    Not unless you live in Texas or Pennsylvania! And even then, I’m afraid I’ll be seeing only a limited amount of wonderful people.
 

Are you enjoying your new job?

—Curious Inquirer

Yes! I told my boss the other day that I felt a little bit about my current job like I did about teaching, in the way that I was enjoying it enough it felt like cheating somehow to get paid for it.
 
What is your favorite part of your job?
—From the Bayou State
    This might sound strange, but organizing! I’m having the time of my life putting things into spreadsheets and assigning call numbers to every box. I get great satisfaction in lining up the various tools and dispensers near my desk.
    Lest you think this is out of character, I did once attempt to organize my art project binder in alphabetical order. One of my aunts used to let me come and spend happy hours arranging books on her shelves. I have, in one of my carefully curated folders containing mementos from years of teaching, an organized record of jobs from a certain donut fundraiser event where every person’s responsibility was listed in great detail. Mine was “Panic and stress out.”
    I guess what I’m trying to say is that I do like organization, even if it doesn’t always look like it.
 
How can we show support for our teachers?
—Reflecting in the Southwest
    Support, I think, is really in going out of your way to build a connection. It’s related to showing love, and it can be as simple as having a conversation or sending a “Have a good day!” text. I can’t tell you how you should show support, because everyone has a way unique to their personality of doing so. Besides, I’m sure you know all the normal things that are said about having the teachers over for meals and checking in on your child.
    So instead of answering your question directly, I’m going to tell you about some of the people who have made me feel supported throughout the years. I don’t know if I ever thanked them properly, but I hope they know how much their kindness was appreciated!
    First, for good reason, are the grandpas and grandmas who have come up to me in church and said, “We pray for you at school every day.”
    There was the young married girl who didn’t love being in the kitchen, but went out of her way to bring us a plate of cookies.
    There were the moms who invited us over for supper and just let us be part of the family. They put us to work stirring up dessert or making tortillas or let us entertain the children so they could work uninterrupted. Many teachers long for these cozy family moments.
    There were the dads who made a point to have family devotions before we went home in the evening. That’s a rare privilege in most teacherages.
    All the random gifts of food that appeared in the fridge! Sometimes we had no idea where they came from. They were particularly appreciated around busy times, like Christmas and revivals.
    The dear, patient Sewing Circle ladies who helped many times to expand my wardrobe.
    There were the women who said, “I’m going to town today. Do you need anything?” I often didn’t, but the fact that they asked gave me a warm feeling, and if I ever did need something, I wouldn’t have been shy to let them know.
    Missives written on the markerboard or on a sticky note at my desk—things like “Have a good day!” “I’m praying for you!” or “You’ve got this!” Sometimes I could recognize the handwriting, but many times I didn’t.
    Random little gifts—a tiny bird, a jar of jelly, a candle, a single flower—always took my breath away. Someone thought of me enough to go out of their way for me.
    The families that took me on adventures to a state park, an escape room, a museum, or flying with their pilot-neighbor—I felt appreciated and supported, because you don’t usually spend a whole day making memories with someone you can’t stand!
    The mothers and especially fathers who took time out of their busy day to sit in my classroom and show an interest in what really happened there.
    Those who sent text messages asking how their child was doing and those who went so far as to step in my room and have a face to face conversation and look at their child’s work.
    The kindly gentleman who was not involved with school in any way, but gave each teacher a hundred-dollar bill at the start of summer vacation. That was support in a generous and much-appreciated way.
    The schoolboard who knew how to be lighthearted, too, because many teachers need those moments to laugh. I’m thinking particularly of the one who left a dead armadillo in the driveway drinking a Mountain Dew.
    Throughout my years of teaching, I don’t think I’ve ever been in a congregation where I didn’t feel supported. Perhaps it is we teachers that should be asking how we can show support for our schoolboards and parents and how we can show our appreciation for everything that is done for us.
 
When was your favorite year teaching?
—From Florida
    I thought this would be an easy question to answer at first, but then I realized this is extremely treacherous territory as I run the risk of alienating at least four congregations, around nineteen co-teachers, and far too many students. Besides, part of teaching is definitely life at the teacherage and social life, not just strictly what goes on at school, so I think I’ll just mention a few years that stand out in my mind.
    One of these, as far as life at the teacherage, was the year of Sam. Sam appeared quite innocently enough one morning as blankets and who knows what stuffed under the covers of someone’s bed while said someone was taking a shower. We knew his name was Sam because he was holding a sign that said so. Sam soon grew to have a whole history (he came from Alaska), and he was even given a new physique stuffed with hay. He went with us to organized youth one night, and one day after the schoolboard had been at the teacherage fixing something, we found him on the roof of our house eating a Snickers candy bar and drinking a Mountain Dew. When we returned to the teacherage after Christmas break, Sam was sitting at the dining room table with his lovely bride! However, all good things must come to an end. Sam’s wife had to be returned to those who donated her, and he died soon after of a broken heart. His faux alligator shoes were willed to one of the youth leaders to be used as flower planters as this youth leader had expressed a particular dislike for them. Last I heard you can still find his tombstone in the attic of the house he once haunted.
    One of my favorite years in the classroom was the year I discovered review games and the impact they could have on my class. We played one, called Rally, quite a lot. It involved racing different types of vehicles across the board through a variety of terrain. One of my students invented his own version of the game that was full of even more dangerous obstacles, such as atomic waste sites. Was that the same year we had an archeological excavation one day for history class? I don’t know for sure.
    Another year that was a lot of fun was the year the classroom had an Investigator theme. It took a few days for the children to catch on that there was a hidden compartment under a chair, a hollowed out book, and other random hiding places. A few times I hid puzzles in their work that led to clues which eventually opened a locked box where they would find candy or some such unhealthy thing.
    Oh, and the year of Artists and Authors! Hiding Waldo once a week in our room and trying to create modern art were a fun time, too.
    But really, although some years are more memorable than others, all of them have their good and bad parts. And I’ve loved each of them for different reasons.
 
What is one specific thing or place or something you’ve done or still do that has brought you the most peace of mind and calmness?
—From The Panhandle
Dear Panhandle,
    I know you said it needn’t be something spiritual, but all the things that bring me calmness usually have something spiritual embedded in them! I guess I’m not a very calm person by nature.
    First, of course, is talking to God. But not just a quick prayer before bed. I mean really talking to Him and taking time to listen. My favorites are on meandering walks by myself and while driving. I love to talk out loud to Him and pour out my heart, and there’s a special calmness that just settles over me during those special times.
    Something else that’s not quite as spiritual that brings me calmness is writing. I use writing to work out my thoughts and feelings, and it helps so much to get it out of my brain and onto paper (or filed on my laptop). Being creative in any way can give me a feeling of calmness, though, I think. Painting is great for this, and recently I’ve tried carving soap (random indeed).
    Of course, having a heart-to-heart conversation with a friend I trust can also help sort out the tangles of my mind and give me rest about things.
    I know, I know. You said one specific thing. I apologize. This is neither one thing nor specific.
 
Can you take notes in a church service without looking at your paper to see where you are writing? Heard recently someone saw you do it and was amazed.
—Skeptical from the Southeast
    You have reason to be skeptical. I am, too.
    The method you describe is one used at weddings when I’ve been asked to write impressions. Generally, I’m terrified if I look at the paper, I’ll miss the most interesting things that the bridal couple would like to know about. The success of said method is another story.
    Once in a while I surprise myself by staying mostly on the lines. At other times my writing looks like an inebriated worm.
    I often get asked, “How do you do that?” It’s actually pretty straight forward. I usually look down at my paper just to start the next line I’m writing. I take notes in church every Sunday, so maybe I’ve somehow acquired a sense  of the correct angle to write or the spacing, I don’t know. But honestly I think anyone can do it, if they don’t mind looking a little strange.
 
    My request for questions was inspired partly by Sean Dietrich, but also by the desire to write on random topics. I wanted to write about things I’ve never really written about before.
    I love to ask people questions, which doesn’t always turn out too well. Among some of the most spectacular fails have been “Do you like sloths?” and “What color is your toothbrush?” My current favorite is “What are three things that make your eyes sparkle?” I think some of the questions I received are only fair payback for all the awkward moments I’ve caused.
    With that being said, stay on the lookout for Part II. I've saved some of the hardest ones for later.

Art Expenditure

Hello! This post is a bit of a random rant, but I love art and school and children, and in the last number of years I've gained a new appreciation for open communication between boards and teachers. Have I been a shining example? Absolutely not, but that's what this is about. I want you to do better than I have done.

If you teach school or have ever taught school, you know as well as I do all the little things you buy: sticker charts, incentive prizes, coloring books, bulletin board borders, and more. Maybe you faithfully save your receipts and turn everything in. Maybe you don’t turn anything in. Practices vary. But I do think it’s important for there to be some clear communication on this issue. The particular item we want to look at today concerns the amount of money teachers spend on art supplies and how much of that cost is reimbursed.

I believe one of the first mistakes we, as teachers, make in communicating with our boards is simply in not asking for clear guidelines. Depending on how organized your school is, how large it is, or how long it has been in existence, the question of exactly what expenses are covered may or may not be a well-known fact. Take the time to ask your schoolboard for clear directives on this subject. They may need to discuss it in order to give you an answer, but communicating from the start can save both sides from building up resentment.

Maybe you’ve handed in receipts only to be met with a groan or a begrudging tone. I’m sorry. It doesn’t make it easy to communicate about expenditures. Maybe your receipts get lost and you can’t remember all the numbers. Or worse, you eventually decide that you won’t go through the pain of feeling like an unreasonable burden on the school, and you decide to pay for everything out of pocket. This is what I did. I’m not proud of it. Looking back, I can see that it was a disservice to the teachers who came after me and perhaps tried to hand in bills to the treasurer. There is enough wild variation among schools and teachers that we need to keep a little consistency where we can. I believe one place we could do a better job is in communicating about art expenditures.

To my fellow teachers: Imagine you are on the school board's side of the issue. If the previous teacher hasn't handed in receipts, the board has no way of knowing what has been spent on projects. Suddenly, a new teacher comes along and hands in expenses each month. The board may begin to feel they are being taken advantage of. Maybe they will talk to the new teacher and tell her she needs to hand in less, because "Miss Schmidt didn't spend this much. Make do with what's in the supply room!" They may also find the budget is not coming out as neatly as they had planned, due to the extra increase.

In 2023, I conducted a limited and informal survey of teachers across the conference using the poll option on WhatsApp. This project was started after a conversation with my school board chairman, wherein we decided it was possible that the men involved with our school systems didn’t fully appreciate the cost of our art periods. Not only do many men not spend a lot of time shopping at Hobby Lobby, they are a little out of the loop in regards to what kinds of crafts are being done across the conference. On the other hand, they probably have a better understanding of inflation than many of us teachers do. Following are the results of those surveys.

The first poll simply asked how much teachers estimated they spent per child per art period. Sometimes, I’m sure, participants spend more and sometimes less. One thing to consider is that while a large classroom can look like they spend a lot due to the volume of children, a small class can spend a lot as well because many supplies come in packs of ten, for example, while the teacher really only needs three or four. Also, teachers with smaller classes tend to spend more “because they can,” doing projects that are more expensive because they only have to buy supplies for a few students rather than a large group.

Fifty-eight teachers responded to the first poll. Slightly over half of the respondents (55%) estimated they spend $6 to $8 per week per student on art. The second greatest number of respondents (28%) believed they fell into the $3 to $5 per student per week range. Let's take a mid-range number, $5, and figure 30 art periods in the school year. The teacher is easily spending $150 per student per year. Supposing she has a class of 10 students, she is essentially giving a $1,500 gift to the school each year. Remember, this number is on the conservative side. Check out the graph below to see the rest of the data from this poll.

But we've all heard the jokes about teachers' wages. Surely all teachers, scrimping to get by, hand in their receipts, right? These results made me curious. With all the money teachers were spending on art, how much were they actually getting reimbursed? To satisfy my curiosity, I posted a second poll, again, not as professional as what you might hope, but probably as accurate a reading as you are likely to get for our parochial schools.

In this poll, the question was “How much art expense do you turn in to your school board?” The number of responses to this question was slightly lower than the first poll, at only 51. The answers were, in most cases, more evenly spread. Only one-fourth (25%) of teachers turn in every expense. On the opposite end of the spectrum, 20% of teachers don’t turn in any expenses. The remaining 55% turn in some of their expenses and pay for some themselves. The graph below provides a better look at the data.

So what is the take-away? Some teachers are doing a great job of communicating. I’m proud of you. Others, like myself, still need to learn a few skills.

To the schoolboard: Please make sure you have clear guidelines in place. Be specific about what you are willing to spend. Try your best not to grumble and groan at the expenditures that come your way. In a school of 30 children, it is quite possible each child is consuming $5 worth (a conservative number) of supplies each week, and possibly more—coming out to around $4,500 of art supplies per year. Your teachers might be handing in half of that cost. Please talk to them and find out. It's better for everyone to be on the same page and not have hidden expenses in the operation of your school. 

To the teachers: Hand in your receipts. It is not your job to pay for supplies. If you do something extravagantly expensive once in a while and choose to pay for that yourself, that is a different story. Do find out the guidelines of your school and try to respect the budget that is in place. Not only is it not necessary to spend large sums of money on projects, but it also sets a standard the following teachers may not care to or be able to replicate.

The final word here is simply that I’m trying to bridge the gap of understanding. There are things teachers know and things schoolboards know, and that knowledge is best utilized when combined. Working together takes a lot of communication, even about the little things like how much we spend on art.

 

Egypt, Part II

 Day 4: Temple of Horus, Felucca

Another beautiful day in Egypt and another ancient temple to explore. This time it was the Temple of Horus, the Falcon god, in Edfu. This is the second largest surviving temple in Egypt. One thing our guide showed us here was the ancient Egyptian symbols for numbers, shown below. Start from the right for the smallest denomination, and end at the left with the largest. Think down the line of Roman Numerals. Another neat thing was the stairways leading to the roof. The ascending set spiraled up like a falcon rising on updrafts, and the descending set went straight down like a falcon when it dives. The incredible attention to detail is almost mind-boggling.

I found it very fascinating how the temple structures were similar to the Tabernacle of Moses in some respects. Both had an outer court and an inner court. The tabernacle had an altar, while the temples had either an altar or an offering room of some type, and then both, in a carefully protected spot, a Holy of Holies.  I am curious if God gave instructions to Moses on the building of the tabernacle using words and designs he was already familiar with?

We made the two-hour drive back to Luxor, stopped briefly by the hotel, then headed down to the waterfront for a felucca ride on the Nile. The felucca is a type of sailboat that remains virtually unchanged from the time of ancient Egypt. The ride started around 3, and it was interesting to watch all proceedings. On board with our group was the captain at the tiller, two boys, one maybe 10-12 and another several years older, and our chef and his helper. We were connected with another felucca and towed out behind a motorized boat to get us started on the way.

I love being on the water—there’s something so soothing about it—and I thoroughly enjoyed this experience as well. At some point we were asked when we wanted supper, and I believe Heath told them it was Ramadan, so we would wait. Perhaps this got us a longer ride than we would have otherwise, I’m not sure, but they took it seriously and though we were served hot tea, the food stayed safely out of reach until the sun sank out of sight.

After a lovely meal of rice and chicken with pita bread and hummus, we headed back toward the dock. We hooked up with the motorized boat again and got a tow in toward the dock. The idea was that at a certain spot the felucca would unhook and use the forward motion combined with precision guidance to slip back into its place. Something went wrong with the procedure this time, though. We came gliding in a bit rapidly and glanced off another boat, causing some fast Arabic chatter all around. I’m pretty sure the youngest sailor with us was partly to blame. Perhaps he’d figured out the American tourists were getting a kick out of him and was too busy putting on a show for them. Anyway, there was sudden dropping of sails and I found myself trying to untangle ropes from around my neck at one point. Although the crew didn’t seem particularly impressed, the docking caused a lot of laughter and got a five-star review from all of us.

We walked back to the hotel, which would have been fine except for the dreaded hawkers. As we came up the steps and onto street level, we were accosted almost immediately. There was one guy offering a carriage ride, another guy claiming he worked at our hotel and offering to show us the market place (there was a note in our room at the hotel warning us of just this issue), and a third guy offering… I’m not sure what. All three were standing around yammering about as fast as they could, trying to persuade us they had just what we needed. We eventually managed to start walking. We wanted to go and look at the temple ruins lit up at night, but I for one got little enjoyment out of the sight because there were always more people insisting they had the answer for all the problems we didn’t have for a small tip. It was with a sigh of relief I entered the calm and peaceful Nefertiti.

Most of us spent the rest of the evening on the rooftop again. I did have one startling moment when I got a message from Jane. Apparently, I had managed to lock her in the bedroom because I thought she had already gone out when she was actually just outside on our balcony. Fortunately, the problem was soon rectified, but although I have locked people out before, it was the first time I had ever locked someone in.

 Day 5: Karnak Temple, Dendera Temple, Luxor Temple, Flight to Sharm

 

Maybe you’re beginning to catch on to my earlier comment about mixing up what we saw in which temple. It is a very real possibility, but I’ll do my best here. One thing that made me smile at a few of the temples we visited was the list of rules that included one saying it was prohibited to perform rituals in the temple.

 

We begin our day with a trip to the Karnak Temple, the largest ancient temple in Egypt. Its size comes from the fact that many ancient rulers felt it important to keep adding on to the complex. There were a lot of rooms to wander through. I’m pretty sure we didn’t see everything, but we did see a few things of note. One of these was Hatshepsut’s obelisk. Originally, there were two of them, but only one remains standing today. At 100 feet, it towers above much of the surrounding ruins. It survived only because it contained the names of the gods, and while the pharaohs who came after Hatshepsut tried to wipe out all mention of her, they couldn’t destroy references to the gods, so they came up with another solution. A giant wall was built around the obelisk, hiding it from view. While this was effective, it also had the unintended consequence of preserving this monument for posterity.  

 

Obelisks are so very fascinating to me, partly because of all the theories surrounding how they were quarried, transported, and stood on end. At 323 tons, this beast is no easy thing to move, though many obelisks have been taken away from Egypt or given as gifts to other countries—such as one known as Cleopatra’s Needle, located in New York City’s Central Park.

 

We were also treated to a chance to make a wish. According to legend, walking around a gigantic stature of the dung beetle, or scarab beetle, the god of the morning sun and transformational power, would make a wish come true. Although, according to our guide, this was only possible if you walked “anticlockwise” and made an odd number of circles around the thing.

 

When we were let loose to do some exploring on our own we decided this would be a great place to play laser tag, with different rooms and alleyways and gigantic pillars to hide behind. We measured a medium-sized pillar, and discovered it would take 5 people to reach all the way around it. I think the ones in the picture below are the larger pillars.

 I think this was the only temple where there were massive carvings of horsemen in carriages on the outside wall. Definitely one of my favorite depictions.

 

Up next was a visit to Dendera Temple. This is one of only a few temples in Egypt to bear a likeness of Cleopatra. The artwork here definitely had a more Greco/Roman flare. Like many of the other temples we visited, it was massive. A fun thing at this temple is the crypts. There were three that you could pay to enter, so of course we did. Some of them required simply climbing down a set of stairs and crawling through a small entrance into a narrow chamber full of more intricate reliefs. The idea is that these secret rooms were used for storing sacred items or a stash of wealth, perhaps.

 

The most entertaining crypt to enter was one at a tall set of metal steps. There was a small entrance there—to quote, “If it was much tighter, we would’ve needed to bring out the butter”—that it was a little challenging to get through as there wasn’t really much of a landing. Directly through the hole, there were a couple of steps down. The big question for us girls was head first or feet first? I think there was some experimentation both ways. Inside one of the crypts was the famous image some people claim is evidence of light bulbs and electricity in ancient times. I saw it with my own eyes and can’t figured out who started these wild theories. The “wire” in the light bulb is very obviously a snake, a normal feature in Egyptian sacred art.

 

One thing that is decidedly not normal Egyptian is the zodiac found in a little room on an upper level of the temple. The original, of course, has long since been taken to some other country and displayed in a foreign museum, but there is a copy of it installed here.

 

We managed to squeeze in one more temple before departing from Luxor. That, of course, was the Luxor Temple itself—the very one visible from our hotel roof. There is an avenue of sphinxes that stretches a little over a mile and a half that connects this temple to the Karnak Temple. It really is quite impressive to see, containing 600 sphinxes on each side.

Luxor Temple was interesting and had a few things that stood out—such as the “birth room” which depicts the supposedly divine birth of King Amenhotep III. There are also a few statues of one pharaoh or another who is depicted wearing a smile, quite a different look than most. There is also a statue of King Tut here. Another neat touch is the remnants of some Roman-era paintings that adorn the arched entrance to the temple.

 

In the evening, we took a flight from Luxor to Cairo, then to Sharm El-Sheikh. The last time I looked at the clock it was around 2:00 in the morning and the head had just broken off the shower of our Air B&B type dwelling—before I got a shower.

 

Day 6: The Red Sea, Glass Bottomed Boat, Incredible Seafood

 

As I mentioned earlier, I love the water—pretty much anything to do with water—so having the Red Sea right outside, just a short walk to a cliff from our back patio, then a steep descent down to the tiny beach was amazing.

 

We slept in due to our late night. This was down on our itinerary as a “rest day,” so rest we did. It was around 9:30 or 10:00 before I roused myself. Some of our group had been out scouting food, and after a brief time spent together feeding body and soul, we split up and went our separate ways. Most of us girls went swimming, because how could you not? There was one set of snorkeling gear provided with our accommodations, and we made the most of it. It was my first time to ever actually go snorkeling, and although I had some difficulty figuring out how to keep from inhaling salt water, I loved it. I honestly could have spent pretty much all day in the water and been happy. The only sketchy moment was a face-to-face conversation with a pale purple jellyfish.

 

There was a beautiful coral reef just a little way out full of exotic fish, then a tremendous drop off where everything disappeared into a lovely deep blue. But eventually all good things must come to an end, and we had to get out to prepare for our next activity, a glass bottomed boat ride. We climbed back up the path, having snippets of conversation about interesting things, such as what we are tempted to base our self-worth on.

 

The glass-bottomed boat ride did not disappoint, except I thought it was too short. One quick Google search indicates that the Red Sea is in the top 10 snorkeling sites in the world, and its not hard to believe when there are hundreds of beautiful fish and multiple other types of exotic life sliding past under the boat.

 

Upon returning to our residence, the guys went swimming and we girls headed to the nearby market. This was a local/native market for a change, with not a hawker in sight. What blessed relief! Prices were fixed (and low), so we stocked up on a few fruits and snacks. We were not, however, spared from having an interesting encounter. We met, of all things, an American.

 

This American was from New York and he was a rabbi, “at home,” he informed us. I wasn’t aware rabbis could not be rabbis, but whatever. He recognized us as Mennonites and started questioning us down on how we were different than other Mennonite groups. He kept talking about wanting to interview us, but he’d left his phone at wherever he was staying. He had been trying to stop the war, he said, but had been unsuccessful in gaining enough notice with those in high positions. He also informed us he was single and one of the good guys. After several desperate attempts to get us to look up his YouTube channel, he finally departed, shocked that we didn’t know all the Biblical terms and Hebrew words he was referring to—apparently his channel was initials which stand for some term that refers to the wisdom of Solomon or something. Not to be snide, but he did seem rather full of his own wisdom.

 

Supper took place at a restaurant called Ebn Hamido Seafood. This was the impressive meal of the trip. Even I, the ultimate non-foodie, was impressed. Perhaps it was Heath’s comment that they ought to prepare us a feast, but I am here to tell you the meal exceeded every expectation. They brought out food, lots of it, and then brought out more.

 

The array was truly overwhelming. And then, just when you though the table was full, something else would appear. Thanks to Andrew for carefully recording the stunning variety:

 

2 kinds of grilled fish

2 kinds of fried fish

Boiled shrimp in sauce

Mussels

Fried calamari

Stuffed calamari on rice

Shrimp pasta

Broth

Coleslaw

French fries

Tomato and cucumber salad

Beet and apple salad

Marinated tomato wedges

Pickled carrots

Roasted peppers and eggplant

Cheese bread

Pita bread

Peanut dip

Potato dip

Unknown kind of dip

Dates

Water

Two kinds of juice

 

If you are looking this menu over enviously, then you probably are getting an understanding of the impressiveness of the whole spread. If you want to try some of the dishes yourself, I’m happy to inform you this is a chain with a restaurant located in NYC. However, I feel it is only fair to warn you that the price may be higher in the U.S. than in Egypt. Our cost per person averaged out to about $12—not bad for fresh seafood, yes?

 

Day 7: St. Catherines Monastery, Mt. Sinai, Bedouin Restaurant, Flight to Cairo

 

Our 3-hour drive to Mt. Sinai begin rather too early for my liking the next morning. I thought perhaps I could doze on the way, but it quickly became apparent that plan was an impossibility. We were accompanied by our driver, a member of the Tourism Police because we were apparently heading into a dangerous zone, and a faithful guide. And let me impress upon you the extent of his faithfulness. He pointed out every interesting and non-interesting sight along the way. He was gifted with the volume of a foghorn and a relentless monotone.

 

From him, we learned many things. For example, if you mispronounce the word culvert badly enough, you can convince some Americans you are speaking about corvettes. He pointed out numerous buildings that had been built by the government for the Bedouin people, but which they refused to use. One of our favorites was listening to his rambling account of Moses and the burning bush and discovering when Moses threw his rod down before Pharaoh, it turned into a snack.

 

We toured St. Catherine’s Monastery and saw the supposed burning bush of Moses. They claim various clippings have been taken to start new bushes, but none of them will grow. However, it is very interesting how many fossils of the burning bush are for sale around the compound as well. Apparently, the bush is still considered a fire hazard. How else can you explain the fire extinguisher displayed beside it?

 

 At last, the climb up Mt. Sinai commenced. I knew before I ever went that there was a chance I wouldn’t be able to make the climb, and it soon became obvious I had reason to doubt. I staggered a little ways up the trail with eager camel ride offers behind us. There came a point where I was already slowing down enough, I knew I needed to either quit and go back down to wait at the Monastery or hire a camel. There was a small problem with the camel business, though, and that was that they can’t take you all the way to the top of the mountain. I knew my bad knee had bothered me some going in and out of tombs and pyramids, and I had serious doubts if it would hold up going up the final 750 steps to the peek. Not to mention my life-long difficulty with altitude climbs.

 

 So at last I made the decision to turn back. Of course, it would have been neat to say I’d climbed all the way, but I had three hours by myself at the monastery to make peace with the fact that I didn’t. Those three hours, by the way, were spent meditating and half-dozing. There were only two people who came in trying to sell me things. One was very sly and actually accepted no quickly. The other was not quite as subtle, and some higher up person came and chased him out and apologized to me profusely. All was well until they closed the toilets. But thankfully the rest of the party returned (looking quite finished, mostly) and a second toilet option was found.

 

We drove only a short distance to a Bedouin restaurant where everyone flopped gratefully down on the cushions around a low table. We were served a lot of food again, but I didn’t feel like eating. Appetites definitely varied, though, and some pretty nearly cleaned their plates out. I couldn’t find any picture that exactly described out experience, but here is a poor substitute.

 

 The main course, by the way, was a pile of rice with eight of these kababs.

 

We drove straight back to Sharm and straight to the airport where the helpful touring company met us with our bags. Our flight left at 10:35, and we got back to the hotel (Eileen Hotel again, for anyone interested) after midnight.

 

Day 8: Alexandria, Catacombs of Kom el Shoquafa, Serapeum, Qaitbay Citadel, Tram Ride

 

We had another drive from Cairo to Alexandria to tour some things there. The first one we visited was the Catacombs of Kom el Shoquafa. There were a few grand carvings and things, but they believe that many engravings were erased by the damp air. I found the system very interesting that was used to lower caskets into the tomb. There was a chute that led straight down through which the body was lowered, then a low tunnel through which the sarcophagus would have been slid. Next, of course, they would have situated it in one of the niches along the walls. There did seem to be some speculation that perhaps the lower slot was used for the body and the one above it was used for items intended to serve in the after-life. Our guide took us into a back room and turned off the lights. I am such a creature of the light, but I do also love a good dark moment, whether that be humor or otherwise.

 

 One word about the guide—the one we had for the last two days was my favorite by far. He was informative and to the point, not nearly so long-winded as the dear Mt. Sinai fellow, nor so loud. He had a lot of friends that would say hi to him, and he had a fantastic sense of humor. If you’ve ever been around other languages, you know that humor can be hard to translate sometimes into the nuance of a non-native tongue, but this guide did very well.

 

Our next stop was at the Serapeum of Alexandria. I’m going to be open about this one—I’m stealing information off the internet as I type. This site was a Greek temple built by Ptolemy III. There are a number of old ruins there, but it’s difficult to figure out what anything really was as there is no signage or information readily available. One thing that did stand out was Pompey’s Pillar.

 

 

This pillar stands at a little over 88 feet. I don’t know much about it, so apologies all around. One thing that was discovered was a hole in the base that was large enough for a human to enter. The rest of us stood afar off and observed as one little girl peered into said hole and got a bit of a shock to see a living, breathing being staring back at her.

 

Our next destination was the Qaitbay Citadel. This is a beautiful building, completed around 1479 AD—rather new if you compare it to the pyramids. It is built where the Alexandria Lighthouse used to stand. I thought the building rather beautiful with its elegant, cool stone walls. The citadel is three stories high, and we ventured up to the rooftop from which we caught glimpses of the Mediterranean. It was indeed lovely, with the breeze wafting the sea-salt air towards us.

 

After stopping for a quick lunch, we hopped aboard the most darling vintage tram to ride just a little ways down the street. Our actual itinerary called for a stop at the modern Alexandria Library, but enthusiasm wasn’t so high for that, so our guide swiftly made tram arrangements instead.

 

After the tram excursion we piled back into the lovely Magic Carpet van once again and headed back to Cairo. We walked out to find supper again. Pizza this time, by some lovely Google Translate names. How would you like to eat Alexandria, Mixed Jane, and The Leader Is the Problem? They were all good.

 

We stopped on our way back to the hotel to buy some scarves to wear inside the mosque the next day. Our guide had said we could just take down our hair, but that didn’t seem to be a good option, so covering our heads was the next best thing. It is very interesting trying to do business when there is such little English.

 

Back on the balcony, Jane and I had to satisfy our paper airplane curiosity. We tossed them from 6 floors up, but were disappointed with the results. Mostly they just went straight down. I was thankful later that they hadn’t hit anyone. We watched a guy swallowing and breathing fire down on the street below for tips by one of the restaurants that had tables set up in the streets. Another guy came by later and was doing magic tricks, but we couldn’t see well enough to get the full effect of that one.

 

Day 9: Cairo Citadel, Mosque of Sultan Hassan, Al-Rifa’I Mosque, Synagogue Ben Ezra, Saints Sergius and Bacchus Church, the Last Hurrah

 

So here we are at the last day of our adventures. This was a full day, just like the others. To be honest, my head was so full of all the things we had seen by now I don’t know if I can do any type of explanation justice. To enter the mosques, we got to wear our headscarves and take off our shoes. In one of the mosques, a priest sang a special chant just for us that was impressive. Our guide showed us the correct positions of prayer and told us many more things that I listened to, knowing I’d never remember later. I found out a few details—that Muslims are allowed to have up to four wives, but they must get permission to marry more than one and they must have a good reason. There were many chambers in the mosques to hold the sarcophagus of famous religious figures, but it all seemed so dark and sad in spite of the beautiful and impressive buildings, such as the Cairo Citadel, pictured below.

 

After the Mosques, we went to a tourist market for a bit. I was happy to haggle prices there, until I got to one of the last people I needed to bargain with. If I’d had more time I would have abandoned him and sought out a different vendor, but the guide was waiting outside the booth and I knew I needed to hurry, so I stuck it out. Jane, thankfully, was right outside the door waiting for me. I wanted some of the shawls the women wear, and this vendor took it upon himself to place one on my head while asking if I was single and if I wanted an Egyptian husband and such things. I didn’t get as good a price as I wanted there, but I was ready to just get out. I’m not sure if he thought flirting would help him get the better end of the deal or what. I’d never been hassled that bad by any vendor in any foreign market before.

 

After departing the markets, we went to some churches and synagogues or some such things. One was holding a service, even as we walked in and out touring it. There was a priest dressed somewhat like a pope burning incense and other priests going up to read out of a big book. They were speaking the Coptic language, which is very closely related to what would have been spoken during the ancient Roman occupation of Egypt. It was neat hearing something so near to the voices of the past, but the feeling was suffocating, allergic, and not witnessing to my spirit.

 

Another religious building supposedly sat atop the cave where the Holy Family lived during their escape to Egypt. It also had a beautiful wooden ceiling.

I’m about out of information. If you have questions about anything, you’re welcome to send me a message. That doesn’t mean I’ll know the answer, but I will always be enthused to talk about Egypt.

 

After being dropped off at the hotel, all of us except Heath’s struck out towards the Nile, planning to sit down there and enjoy the scenery. After some interesting escapades that included crossing some super busy streets and something that might be termed breaking and entering, we made do with leaning on the bridge railing and enjoying the sight of the water slipping away downstream.

 

Back at the hotel, we started the process of packing and showering. We gathered for one last dessert time together, took a ceremonious bite of a sandwich, and found a quiet place to have one more devotional moment. Then started the terrible ordeal of saying goodbye.

 

Quite a number of us left on a flight at 1:45 in the morning, to Dallas via Frankfurt. Our good old Magic Carpet picked us up at 10:00 or 10:30, and we headed to the airport.

 

Along the way we kept losing members of our party until it was at last just Jane and I on the six hour drive home after our last flight. That drive was rugged. It was dark and we were tired, but we made it home a little after midnight.

 

And that’s it. The end of one of my favorite adventures of all time. People keep asking me what my favorite thing was. That is absolutely impossible. I might be able to give you a favorite in a certain category—like favorite food, or favorite temple, but there is no way to give one over-arching favorite thing about the whole trip.

 

Unless, of course, you count the people. People are always what make anything. And yes, I still say that, even being the introvert that I am. The Egyptian people and culture were fascinating to watch, and the people I traveled with were each incredible in their own right. It was a lot of fun to watch everyone slide into their little slot in the group and fill a place for the few days we were together.

 

And so this is the end. Egypt is past and gone, but I’ll always cherish it in my heart.

 

And maybe someday, I’ll take another trip, another adventure—maybe you’ll come, too.

 

Because one can always dream.

 

I’ll see you there, in Italy or Ireland or Poland or Germany or Mongolia or Australia. Take your pick, or choose something else. Just let me know the date!