Possibilities

As an English major, one of the more irritating things that I have to put up with is the tendency of most people to assume that I'm going into teaching once they find out what I'm studying. This is irritating because people don't realize that an English degree is one of the most versatile degrees out there and most undergrad English majors end up doing something completely unrelated to what they studied in college, so assuming that I am going to teach with my English degree frustrates me to death. 

The irony of this is that I want to do probably the most stereotypical thing possible with my English degree: I want to write. And yet nobody initially assumes that this is what I want to do. 

Anyway, another reason why the teaching assumption bothers me so much is that I had the WORST experience with teaching possible when I was in high school. I unwittingly agreed to teach 2nd grade ESL students for a few weeks of summer school and halfway through the first day realized how much I dislike being a disciplinarian. I would hate to be a teacher. It is on the bottom of my list. 

Except that old adage says that "those who can, do, and those who can't, teach", which basically means that if I fail to make it big off my semi-autobiographical nonsense for young adults, I will eventually end up teaching. 

This usually bothers me, but tonight I'm stuck with memories of the teachers who actually meant something to me: Mr. Quiring and his AP English courses, Mrs. Roedding who introduced me to poetry, Ralph Carlson from Creative Writing: Poetry, Mrs. Phillips who taught me how to read, even Ms. Pettijohn from my brief sojourn at Dana Hills. And I realize that if I had the honor to have as much of an impact on students' lives as these teachers had on mine, I would live a very fulfilled life. 

Suddenly I'm not so afraid of my inevitable career choice.

Mr. Bundles

Dear Mr. Jaxson Forest Lindsay (Jay),

It is I, your 6th grade crush. Remember? I'm the one you handed the "I like you" note to outside of our classroom during recess that one day in late Spring. I'm the one you played tag with all over campus and the one you asked, "Are you alright now, Rheanna?" when I had that nasty cold before the performance of our 6th grade play.

You may think it is pitiful that I still remember this, indeed, that I even remember your full name. Maybe it is pitiful, but that's not all I remember.

It was the second semester of 6th grade when you first whistled your way into my life. I had a crush immediately on your red hair and freckles, and on the fact that you came from Cotopaxi, the school where everyone apparently smoked. I thought this made you instantly cooler than all of the boys at my small missionary-bubbled school. You were a brand new transfer student and all I wanted was to chase you around the playground (I was 12, give me a break).

Our teachers chose Annie for our 6th grade play, and while I was Grace Farrell, private secretary to Oliver Warbucks ("Oliver Warbucks the millionaire?"), you were Mr. Bundles, the laundry man. When I found out which part you got, I desperately wanted to be Miss Hannigan because there was a secret romance insinuated between the two characters in the script and even at that young age, I thought art should imitate life.

During our 6th grade graduation, I flirted and flirted with you, Peter Carrera, and Eric Bean, because I couldn't decide which of you I liked best. I contemplated this issue for a whole summer, finally deciding on you when it turned out you sat behind me in our 7th grade homeroom. Later on in the year, I would stick my hands behind me when the teacher was praying and we would hold hands.

You asked me to the hayride and I had to say no because I wasn't allowed to date. This is one of my biggest regrets.

Our relationship culminated in a death, Jay Lindsay. It was the death of our classmate, Gun Hi Bae. He was in our History and English class and sometimes sat at the same table where we sat. This means that we probably accidentally played footsies with him a couple of times. We went to his funeral together, and you held my hand as we watched his body being brought to the building and, later on, in the van on the way back to school. You pointed out your apartment as we drove and I still can't drive through that part of town without thinking about you and how sad you looked that whole day.

(Years later, I wrote a story about Gun's funeral and I referred to you as my "first love". I still am not completely sure why I did.)

After that, we didn't talk so much. You stuck around for our 8th grade year and then your mom moved you away. During one of our middle school summers, we went to church camp together and you became a Christian. I remember because you threw away all of your shirts with the dragons and "bad stuff" on them and I thought it was really honorable of you to do that.

And then you moved away and for the longest time my ears would perk up when I heard anyone mention your name. Once, I heard you had been put in jail and I prayed for you.

The thing is, Jay Lindsay, you started all this nonsense with me feeling like I have to save people. It's because of you and your problems and my unquenchable desire to fix them for you that I still find myself drawn to broken people who need me. But they don't really need me, Jay Lindsay. There isn't anything I can do to actually save them. They have to figure it out on their own and that's what I never got the chance to learn from you.

Anyway, Jay Lindsay, we recently became friends on myspace, so maybe it's about time that I resolve all these issues that I have as a result of you. Maybe we can have a nice long conversation about how much I wrote about you in my journal back then and prayed that God would let me know if he wanted me to like like you or just like you.

Or maybe we can catch up through a few short and stilted emails and then move on.

But no matter what happens, I'm still glad I chose you to have a crush on in 6th grade. You were nice to me and I had a lot of fun playing tag with you. So thank you for that. And also I'm sorry I couldn't help you with the things you needed to figure out. Hopefully you've figured them out by now.

Hope your life is good.

Lots of love,

Rheanna Lea Cline

Ants in the pants of faith

“I’m spiritual. I live off the faith that has been instilled in me, that has never left. I’ve never let a stumbling block actually make me fall…. We all go through trials, but not one thing has ever made me question God. I have a great relationship with God. I can talk to him, get mad at him, frustrated with him. But, ultimately, my faith is what defines me.”

Yeah, ok, this is a quote from Jessica Simpson. I realize that. But. I think this quote basically sums up what American Christianity is trying to convince us of. 

We always say that God will never give us anything that we can't handle. Pretty much, we tell ourselves that God has our best interests in mind. And I'm not refuting that belief at all; on the contrary, I completely agree. But the thing is that maybe what God thinks is best for us is the opposite of what we think is best for us. 

Did you ever think that maybe God doesn't care about our happiness? Maybe he knows that there is a lot that is more important than how happy we're feeling at any one moment. Maybe he values things like joy and a vividly-lived life more than a temporary and inconstant thing like happiness.

I don't know. Our culture tells us that if we believe in God, we'll get the desires of our hearts. But maybe we're so out of touch with our spirituality that we don't even know what the desires of our hearts are.

Anyway, Jessica Simpson says that she has never questioned God. Frederick Buechner says that "doubts are the ants in the pants of faith. They keep it awake and moving." 

If that's true, then is a faith without doubts, a faith that is asleep and stagnant, worth anything?

If we live in a world that teaches us to look for the easy and happy way of life, then how are we ever supposed to encounter the kind of "stumbling blocks" that might make us doubt God? And without that doubt, how are we supposed to come to know God more?

I don't know. I'm realizing that there's a lot about this culture that I frankly do not agree with. And I need to change that. I need to make a difference.

I need to save the world?

One of the more awkward results of attending a relatively small Christian university and living on campus

SCENE: Number K5 in the Shire Modulars, approx. 12:30am

RHEANNA sits on the comfy couch (the one that always eats her pens) in shorts, glasses, and a ponytail, minding her own business while also attempting to hold a phone conversation with a long-lost friend who has the coolest name she has ever heard. She hears voices and sees a mysterious figure pass by her half-open window, but reacts with a mere shrug as she is used to mysterious figures walking behind her house (like the time that Humans vs. Zombies thing was taking over campus and crazy freshmen kept lurking around the mods).

She hears a knock on the door and hesitantly stands to look through the peephole. With an obviously confused look on her face, she opens the door.

RHEANNA: Hello?

BOY SHE FLIRTED WITH IN THE COFFEE SHOP LAST WEEK: Oh. Hey. Is there a guy without a shirt on in here?

SEMI EX-BOYFRIEND RHEANNA IS ON THE PHONE WITH: (from the phone) I don't have a shirt on.

RHEANNA: Umm. No.

BOY: ...are you sure?

RHEANNA: Pretty sure.

BOY: You're not just hiding him somewhere?

RHEANNA: I don't think so.

BOY: Oh. I thought I saw someone through the window.

After a few more seconds of reallyyyy awkward conversation, BOY apologizes then leaves. RHEANNA is left with the startling realization that this kid was looking in her window and she resolves to never leave her windows half open again. SEMI EX-BOYFRIEND resolves to never ever attend a relatively small Christian university.

END SCENE.

"The way God intended it to be"

Who are you to claim to know the mind of God?

He's not like us. 

Isaiah 55:8-9

 “My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord.
      “And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine.
 For just as the heavens are higher than the earth,
      so my ways are higher than your ways
      and my thoughts higher than your thoughts."