Hope : The Strength of A Willow Tree

 Friends,

 The time between Christmas and  the New Year can be odd as a teacher. The excitement of Christmas has ended, but  there’s time before we return to routines.  The space in between has me reflecting on the concept of hope. 

I’m someone who thinks critically and feels deeply. In the midst of adversity, I’ve always seemed to have this innate ability to remain hopeful. My resilience undoubtedly comes from a heart rooted in faith. The process of overcoming is simultaneously overwhelming and amazing. Sometimes, I find myself overly concerned with the burdens of life. It can be easy to compare myself to the rest of the world.  Each time this happens,  I'm surely not enough.  Then I pause to consider that maybe my disability isn’t the trait that is meant to set me apart from the rest of the world.   My ability to endure with overwhelming hope means so much more than the challenges I face.  It seems the older  people become, the more hope has a tendency to be perceived as childish or naive.  For me, hope is just a steadfast commitment to the promises of my faith.  

Honestly, the circumstances of the year had me afraid that I may have lost my unwavering  hope. The world is at war.   Loved ones faced grief and  turmoil that I couldn’t fix.  Life just felt unsteady.  Some days it was even physically more challenging to navigate the world.  You should not carry the burdens of life alone. This advice led me to ask a faithful mentor what to do when  the world tries to steal  your joy and hope.   I was met with unforgettable words of wisdom.  “The more we focus on God’s hope for our life the greater that hope becomes.  This doesn’t mean that life won’t happen. It will.  It will  just hurt less because our focus is different.”   This is  a lesson in perspective.  Look for hope and you’ll find it. 

At Christmas a dear mentor gifted me the most beautiful Christmas ornament of a willow tree. It was the perfect gift for a season of life  that at times felt full of uncertainty.  Willow trees often symbolize growth and healing.  I’m not a tree expert, but brief research taught me that in nurturing environments the willow trees  can grow quickly and have  steady  roots. These trees  are valuable in nature because they protect land from erosion.  There is plenty  of weather in life. Perseverance gives life meaning.  It’s important to be surrounded by supportive people. People who help you turn struggle into strength.  This is a lesson in perspective. Look for hope and you’ll find it. 

There’s an old adage that says God doesn’t give us more than we can handle. As I consider what I’ve weathered  this year I’m not so sure about that.  Our hearts must  be open to receiving the hope that is given to us.  Hope isn’t naive. Hope is  what helps make life  remarkably beautiful in the midst of our  heaviest burdens.  A hopeful heart shifts our perspective. 

As I set my sights on the year ahead, I’m thankful for those who help me thrive with the strength of a  willow tree.  I pray that there are always opportunities for me to share hope and be light. 

Wishing you a Hopeful & Happy New Year!

Joyfully,

Julie

There's Always a Reason to Celebrate

 Friends, 

The new year school year starts in just a few weeks. This year will mark my fifth year in the classroom– it’s a milestone that I’m so proud to celebrate!  My pathway to teaching wasn’t easy. I had always imagined myself as a teacher and if I hadn’t been offered my position at Walnut Grove Christian School, I might’ve given up on my calling.  Nonetheless, one of my favorite devotionals highlights the idea that “God gives us overwhelming dreams so that we will be encouraged to grow in faith. Furthermore, we are made to dream!”This suggests we will grow into our calling with prayer and practice. 

During my time in Undergraduate studies the Dean of Education made the bold statement that “cerebral palsy made me unfit to be a teacher.”  On my most discouraging days in the classroom I let her words captivate my mind  too much.  Words are impactful. This recurring memory has led me to reflection and prepared me to focus on what I’ve already overcome.  This will help me experience growth and hope. 

 

In my first year of teaching the world was paralyzed by a global pandemic. By late January,  I had settled into a routine that made me feel like my head was above water as a new teacher. By  February, it seemed that I was making measurable progress with classroom management. I was still new but gaining confidence. Then without warning, I was suddenly learning how to teach history from my sofa.   I joined the countless numbers of educators who problem solved to provide community, instruction , and structure daily via ZOOM. I hid panic to provide certainty when there wasn’t any…. We all did. I had this unspoken worry that perhaps the unknown would impact our small independent school.  Would families be able to make a  financial commitment to school?  There was no way to know.   Our school leadership team was joined in prayer by the community. We finished out the year virtually and began the steps to our capital giving campaign.  Families and supporters were fully committed to maintaining our school and helping it flourish.  There has been consistent growth since those early pandemic days.  Our school would continue to be a source of stability for students and staff.  Together apart we had built a strong foundation of hope. 

The financial promise of faithful donors put my  professional mind at ease. Yet, personally I stood on shaky ground.  Right ahead of school closure,  Mom had been presented with a cancer diagnosis that rocked my world. Cancer was this disease  that other people conquered—it couldn’t possibly happen to my Mom.  She has given so much of her life to making sure that  I was loved and cared for in practical ways. She has helped me beat the odds over and over. Together, we had faced every obstacle that cerebral palsy presented with unwavering persistence. We had won.  Now, the roles were reversed. I had to be part of her support system— a steady source of hope.  I was afraid. There is no manual about how to manage the BIG emotions of a cancer diagnosis.  The only wisdom that friends give is that the journey is different for everyone.  This advice is given in love and looking back it’s true.  Living differently is what Mom had done since my childhood.  She had raised me to be Bold, Brave , and Beautiful.  This is exactly how she fought her own diagnosis.  She managed to fight cancer during a pandemic with an unwavering spirit.

  We returned to school that  Fall with precautions in place.  There was always a hint  of anxiety in interactions– an overwhelming  worry that precautions weren’t enough. Spring  meant that Mom would travel for treatments. She had one request: Stay focused on teaching.  It was definitely a challenge to balance blessing with burden.   At the same time,  being in a community founded in faith helped me maintain a brave and beautiful heart.   I’m grateful to report that Mom is beating the odds. 

One of the most valuable pieces of wisdom I’ve ever received is that when you teach from  the inside out you can learn the rest.”   In other words, finding a reason to share  hope will always matter.   My dream to teach is so important to me because it is a way for me to help students balance the  BIG emotions of life.   It’s a chance to share the hope that helps me conquer the unthinkable.  There’s always a reason to CELEBRATE!

Joy & Hope,

Julie

An Inspiring Life

 Friends,

The last blog I wrote was about the gift of recognizing my role as a courageous educator. The opportunity to share  my teaching experience as a balancing act between fear and joy was empowering. It allowed me to lean more fully into joy.  Upon my return to school, Our community had even  organized a cerebral palsy awareness day alongside our annual bingo night. Everyone wore green and I shared how special it had been to teach. The day  was more special because I had just shared   my story as a disabled educator  with others because I had felt a sense of belonging in our school family.  I was acknowledged. I was grateful. I had inspired others. 

In the weeks that followed celebration and joy I sincerely struggled. It seemed impossible to reach students. It became more challenging to manage negative behavior. As quickly as I had embraced joy I now felt inadequate. I was defeated. I was overwhelmed. I had failed. As we finished the school year, I was present but definitely felt less hopeful. Summer can be a difficult season because my heart is most full when I’m in my classroom. I’m not the perfect teacher but I’m passionate about helping students. There is so much gratitude for my school community. I felt a  sense of betrayal as I headed into summer  looking forward to the break.  More importantly, in my fear I had stopped so freely expressing my joy to colleagues and friends. I hadn’t written an uplifting blog. The light that  I strived  to  share with others had disappeared. 

 

I’m a full week into summer vacation. I love to be busy but haven’t planned much. This week I tuned  into one of my favorite television shows — Sunday Morning. It’s a combination of news and enriching stories. This week’s program featured a segment on a quadriplegic  mom who raises twins. The story captivated my attention as a disabled woman and as part of multiples. For me, there’s always been so much hope in accomplishing tasks that others consider ordinary. At the end of the segment this mom was clear : She didn’t want to be inspiring. Each  disabled person has an  individual perspective about the idea of an “Inspiring life”  Here’s mine. 

I have always considered it a responsibility to be a beacon of hope. My call to teaching helps all people acknowledge that disabled children will become adults. Everyone deserves to live a fulfilling life.   It helps students who cope with differences or disabilities see  that they can be productive and professional leaders.  It helps communities that embrace disabled professionals be advocates for awareness in the most practical way — Let us work!  This isn’t to say, that every disabled person is able (or qualified ) to work in every industry. The point is that rejection often comes because of disability and that shouldn't happen.  It helps promote acceptance.  I chose teaching because I have a set of skills and heart for students.  I chose teaching because it gives me the opportunity to inspire.  

 It can be difficult to be a disabled professional because there’s a delicate balance between gratitude and value. I am grateful for the space to share my abilities but I also know that my contributions help make our community stronger.   As I grow professionally and personally, I’m working through the idea that being discouraged doesn't make me any less of an impactful educator.   There’s so much resilience in being willing to keep trying when we feel like we have failed. I was  defeated.  I was overwhelmed.  I kept teaching. Those feelings have helped me recognize teaching ( and life ) as a growing process. It's always  important  to celebrate growth even on the most difficult of days. 

 Keep on…. I hope you’re inspired! 

Julie

Second Mile Mentorship : A Story of Courage

 Friends, 

In mid March I presented at my first professional development conference  for educators. The invitation to  speak came from my middle school principal and dear  mentor.  Dr. Rudnesky has always sincerely valued my story as a determined person who copes with cerebral palsy.  The opportunity to present  alongside Dr. R was an impactful and special experience for me.  It could easily go on a list of life's “most memorable moments.”

In the weeks ahead of the conference, I struggled to find the right words.  I can confidently tell anyone who asks me  that living with cerebral palsy is a challenge that takes courage. It’s a truthful yet simple reply.  It comes in handy when I don’t really want to think about my disability.  If people ask specific questions I always answer them honestly  and with tact. I enjoy meaningful conversations around the topic of disability awareness and acceptance.  Sharing the way I have strived to overcome some of life’s most physical and emotional challenges associated with cerebral palsy keeps me focused on my hope and resilience. 

 I don’t have a shortage of thoughts to share.  It’s how the blog started. Short narratives of my life gave me a voice as a hopeful educator as I worked tirelessly to prove my worth as a  dedicated and knowledgeable professional.    I had never been given a captive audience of hundreds.  These folks wouldn’t stumble across my blog post; they would listen on purpose. 

 I settled on words that acknowledged the idea that Dr. R had made my hope tangible. He had helped  me be  brave.    I practiced in empty spaces in my house, on facetime with friends,  with fellow teachers, and with an  audience of the young adults I teach daily.   I opened my remarks with students by sharing that celebrating teaching with Dr. R was an honor.  He had always been so proud.  In the book of Matthew, there is a verse it reads, Whoever compels you to go one mile go with him two.  Dr. R is one of my second mile people.   In the time that I shared with students  I wanted them to pray for and acknowledge people who had gone  the extra mile with them.   Hope cannot happen in isolation. My school family had received the message with open hearts.  I’m not a polished public speaker.   I am passionate about my role and work as disabled educator.   It is a beautiful blessing to share the work of my heart. 

Conference day came quickly.  It was such a unique opportunity to hear Dr. R as an inspirational speaker. He spoke so authentically about his experiences in school leadership.  He consistently used the phrase, I figured out….  then shared wisdom from his time as principal.  His willingness to help people figure life out is one of the reasons I  appreciate and  value  his mentorship.   He is a people centered person.  He’ll find a reason why you matter.  There’s so much value in being surrounded by people who help you tap into potential you never considered.  It’s life giving— it helps me embrace who I am able to be.   

There was so much heartfelt emotion that went into sharing about who I had become because Dr.  Rudnesky   had created a culture of courage.  Life is a balancing act between fear and joy. The  greatest part is finding people who will hold onto your fear with you so that there’s always space for joy.   As I shared my story, I could feel my face flush and voice quiver.   I wasn’t afraid— just authentic.  Vulnerability allows others to accept imperfection.

It was in that moment that I couldn't have been more certain I was called to be a courageous eductor. I'd never spoken in front of this many people before. I also had never felt so loved by a room full of people who didn't know me. I’m so grateful to those who acknowledge my vulnerability and   appreciate my courage.   It takes practice to live radiantly in my difference.    I pray that the work of my heart is a light of hope. 

Joyful Blessings,

Julie

Author's Note : I created a separate post for the speech I presented at the conference-- if you'd like to read it.

Words of Hope

Friends,  

This week I had the opportunity to speak at a  professional development conference for educators.  This was the first public speaking experience I've had as an educator.  This  experience was particularly special because I spoke alongside Dr. Rudneskey, one of my greatest mentors who was also  my middle school principal.  The way that Dr. R  has celebrated my story over the years is truly extraordinary.  It was a great honor to share my story during Cerebral Palsy Awareness month.   I'm  still overwhelmed by the uplifting response to my remarks.   I believe that words matter.  I'm grateful that Dr. R provided me space to share words of hope and courage with other teachers this week : 

    The alternative to hope is fear.  It would’ve been easy to live paralyzed in fear but then there wouldn’t be a story to share. It has proven much more useful to live in radiant hope.  

I have always imagined myself as a teacher. I have known since kindergarten.  My heart never wavered from the call.  As a young girl with cerebral palsy,  I never considered the amount of courage or perseverance that becoming an educator would demand of me. I just always remembered how valued my teachers made me feel. I need to be abundantly clear that there wasn’t a shortage of love at home. My Mom had given me an immeasurable amount of unconditional love. She still does. The care and support of educators simply felt different because it wasn’t expected. Creating cultures of care within our schools is important. The classroom is where I thrived because my effort was constantly acknowledged. Nonetheless, it feels awkward and slightly misleading to convey my school experiences as purely positive. Cerebral palsy encompasses both physical and learning disabilities.  In reality, this meant that school was a balancing act between fear and joy ( Sometimes it still is ). As I was figuring out my disabilities,  I had to explain them to relentless school bullies. It’s natural for people to think  of our shortcomings before our strengths yet the burden of that bears more weight for me.   I belong to a set of triplets who are fully able. So, each time a classmate mocked my  walk or left me behind on the playground I longed for my sister’s lighting speed. She was the star of the track team, but I was always paces behind. I’d gone to physical therapy and  endured countless surgeries. It didn’t make sense.  The  practice and procedures were supposed to fix me. I worked so diligently but classmates only noticed my brokenness.  Constantly navigating the territory of praise and ridicule often left me in an emotional limbo. I was dearly loved  by teachers but wasn’t  accepted by my peers. It was confusing and exhausting. 

My middle school years were critical to learning how to process BIG emotions. Dr. Rudnskey’s mentorship began at a time in my life when I constantly grappled with the idea that my life wasn’t fair. He always spoke so authentically about the value of accomplishing goals.  School was a place where I needed to be brave. This is to say  when you are identifiable different—  you find yourself constantly fighting against it even if it’s not always obvious. Unfortunately, there is no amount of care that can change that . The way that Dr. R presented the concept of goal setting cultivated  a community of courage. He authentically acknowledged that the challenges of life were real. He also demonstrated that the courage to overcome those challenges was just as Suddenly bravery  wasn’t an emotion I had to conquer quietly. Rather it could be celebrated confidently.  The process of goal setting made my hope tangible. It provided me an opportunity to develop what a dear friend   calls  creative coping skills. My encounter with Dr. R allowed me to understand that I was capable even  in the face of cerebral palsy.  The gift of courage is one that I cherish most.  It’s what makes my pathway to teaching so rewarding.

 Today I am a History teacher at Walnut Grove Christian School. My role as a  disabled educator is significant and unique.  As the founder and principal of our school, Mr. Boyd left his role as a public school teacher to create a space centered on core Christian values. Over the past 23 years Mr. Boyd has worked tirelessly to cultivate a community of courage. His vision invites students & faculty to Strive for More—  More opportunities for creativity, critical thinking, and most importantly  compassionate Christ centered leadership. For me the  scripture is clear:  I  have been commanded to be strong & courageous. My place on our teacher team is a practical application of the scriptures that allows  hope to be visible. I have been called to teach because  people need  experiences with those who live differently and are dearly loved.   There’s a deep sense of gratitude that my school family always acknowledges my strength as a joyful and supportive leader.  Authentic communities are valuable. They encourage vulnerability. Vulnerability allows others to accept imperfection. A sense of belonging ultimately fosters opportunities for  meaningful learning. The life we endure together helps us maintain courageous and resilient hearts.  Teaching is an opportunity to celebrate courage. It is a calling that challenges me to live a radiantly purposeful life!

Many Educators are heading toward the final quarter of the school year.  Find time to celebrate life with people who will help you go the second mile in Hope!