A Death in the Family

Yesterday the father of two of our students died. His kids are in 8th grade and 2nd grade. They were in class here at school when it happened.

He is not a parent that I know personally, but in our small school community, when one of us is hurting, we all feel it to varying extents.

Many teachers and staff were able to attend his memorial service last night, and later today, we will be excusing any students who would like to attend the funeral. He will be buried this afternoon at the cemetery adjacent to our school property.

Today is going to be an emotional day for many of our students, staff, and families, and we would appreciate all of your prayers.

Geometry

Geometry class was a boatload of fun today.

First, there was audible flatulence. Which, as you can probably imagine, was the funniest thing everyone in this room full of 9th graders had EVER heard.

And then a pretty substantial spider climbed up a wall, which led to one of the boys screaming like a little girl and falling out of his chair. Which then led to me removing said spider from the classroom while my class huddled together on the opposite side of the room.

Never a dull moment while teaching in the tropics!

I Went to Bali and I was Angry at the Sea

I spent the past week in Bali. I go every December. It's always a special time with friends. But this trip was a little overshadowed.

Most of you probably heard about the AirAsia flight that went missing on Sunday. But most of you probably saw it on the news once or twice before some new news came along and replaced it. Because that's how the news works in most places.

Not here. Not this time. I am living where that is happening. In real time. And I promise you it has been very, very real every single day this week. There are entire TV stations that are showing nothing but interviews and live feeds of the search and rescue operations. Twenty-four hours a day, every little detail is being reported. Every splinter they find floating in the ocean. Every tearful relative who wants their story to be heard. Every coffin containing an unidentified body being brought home.

We went to the beach three times this week. I usually love the beach. I love being by the water. But this week, I caught myself resenting the ocean. It swallowed one hundred and sixty-two lives this week. All at once. One hundred and sixty-two.

We say cheesy things in church about how God is good all the time. But honestly, it's hard for me to find the good in tragedy. I want to just be able to believe that God is always good, even when I, in my limited understanding, can't see it. But watching the news all week has made that really, really difficult. Lately, I feel like God is good all the time except for when He's not.

My Bible has one of those built in ribbon bookmarks. I mostly just stick it in between random pages to keep it from flapping around in the breeze. One morning this week in Bali, I flipped open to where the bookmark was and just started to read there.

"Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God."

And it struck me. It's an action. It's a choice. When my heart is hurting for one hundred and sixty-two lost lives, I can still choose to put my hope in Him. When I am bombarded day after day by news images of crying faces and broken lives, I can still choose to trust in Him. And when I struggle to see His goodness, I can still choose to praise Him.

I don't think that is going to be easy. But I think it's a good place to start.