Tag Archives: rural school

Deep in the Muck

A "cleaner" wheeler ride! Can you believe I got back on with him?

A “cleaner” wheeler ride! Can you believe I got back on with him?

Have you ever had an up close and personal relationship with manure?  You know…sticky, smelly, squishy…comes from the wrong end of everything? You read it right, manure! Well, my encounter with manure is one I’ll never forget!

As a new teacher from the city, in a small, rural town, twelve hours away from all my family and friends, I was welcomed into the home of a fellow teacher for supper each weekend.  (She later became my mother-in-law but that’s a story for another time). Anyway, I loved going there because it was on a farm and there were so many new things to see and do. Of course I never considered a rendezvous with manure being one of them.

After supper one cold, blustery night, Joe, the youngest in the family had to go check on the cows.  As he donned his coveralls he looked back over his shoulder and jokingly asked if I’d like to join him.  Much to his surprise (and mine too) I said yes.  So began my transformation.  Coveralls, gloves, a disreputable hat, and knee-high black rubber boots.  I was quite thrilled with my get-up and felt ready for the cover of The Farmer’s Almanac!  Out the door we went.  With an uncoordinated swing of my leg I plopped on the back of the three wheeler behind Joe and we took off around the fields checking for any new calves. The icy air slapped my cheeks  and the bars I was sitting on slapped my other….well, you get the idea. Approaching the barn, I thought our job was coming to an end but we paused right outside a large opening.  What I saw in front of me sent a shiver down my spine. There in our path was a huge pile of snow.  Joe looked back at me and seeing the terror in my eyes he smiled, revved the engine, and took off determined to give me the ride of my life!  I had a sinking feeling.

sinking became more than a feeling! As it turned out, it was not the snow pile we’d anticipated.  Instead it was an enormous mountain of manure disguised by a layer of clean, white snow. Momentum propelled us upward but just as the wheeler reached the top, the engine died and we sank. Despite several valiant attempts, Joe was unable to get us free so he told me I’d have to drive and he’d get off and push us out.  This is where city girl made her mistake .  Having never driven a three-wheeler or anything close to it, I was scared and so I firmly refused. With more confidence than I actually felt, I told Joe that I’d get off and push!

To his credit, Joe did ask me if I was sure before he agreed.  Attempting to appear undaunted I stepped right down into the waiting muck. My feet began to disappear deep into the mire until manure was dripping down inside my knee-high boots; gunk soaking through my socks.  Gripping the back bar of the wheeler I listened as Joe counted……Are you picturing  where this is going?

One, two three!…….He gunned the motor. With a gallant effort, I pushed. The tires spun. And yes, in a split second I had cow manure everywhere manure could possibly go.  In my hair, dripping from my eyelashes, my nose, in my ears, covering my clothes. I was manure from. top. to. bottom.  As I stood stuck, with globs of poo plopping from the brim of my hat and sliding down my face, I learned that being deep in the muck is NOT where I wanted to be!

Since then I’ve come to realize that life can sometimes feel like being stuck deep in the muck. Stress at work, bills to pay, health issues, troubled marriage, worrying about children, plans that don’t work out….the list is long. None of us want to be lodged in the depths of these situations but when we find ourselves unexpectedly sinking, what a comfort it is to know we are not alone.

“He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the Lord and put their trust in Him.” Psalm 40:2-3 (NIV)

I certainly don’t have all the answers and I flounder when I find myself not where I want to be. I  may not always see a solution right away or recognize God leading me to solid ground as I struggle in the slime, maybe you can relate,  but this I do know… His word assures us we can look to Him for help and He’ll not leave us on our own.

The end of my “farm-hand initiation” that winter night? It came when Joe suddenly (not quite quickly enough for me, mind you) remembered a switch on the three-wheeler that when flipped, enabled the tires to lift up out of the murky hole they’d been trapped in. I’ll never forget his sheepish grin as he reached out his hand and helped me, manure smell, and all, back onto the wheeler.

This was the first of many adventures I had on the farm but the lesson I learned in the manure  is my favorite.  When I find myself unable to move forward or release what is behind me. When I’m sinking and stuck deep in the muck I’m reminded that just as the tires were lifted up so many years ago, we have a God that we can trust to lift US up. That smells like victory to me!

Chosen

Back in January I was doing a little “computer work”, as my sister likes to call it, basically passing time, when I came upon a posting on one of the storytelling websites I follow.  It was from Kevin Cordi seeking teachers who were interested in participating in a project he had developed called the “Poetry Box Project”. Twenty-five children’s authors have written the beginnings of poems that the students in the project will finish, add to the box, and send on as it travels across the country and maybe even world.  He specifically asked for West Virginia teachers who might be willing to take part.  Without really thinking about it, I wrote to Kevin right away to express my interest in receiving the Poetry Box for my school and the state of West Virginia.  Now, I have to be honest with you, I NEVER expected to be chosen.  After all, I teach in a very small, rural school and I am not an award winning, paper publishing, extraordinary teacher.  Why would he choose me?  Well, you can imagine my surprise when I received an email from Kevin to let me know that I HAD been chosen as an Ambassador for the Poetry Box!  It is on its way from Illinois as I type and our school will have it for the month of April.  Needless to say, I am still a little shocked but very excited!  Blogging about this experience is part of the project and the motivation behind my starting “My Sea of Thought.”

To help begin building curiosity and anticipation for the Poetry Box I have left a message on the wall of our cafeteria for the students to find on Monday morning.  It says, “NFES: We have been chosen!”  This picture shows the sign hanging above a table I set up that has books on it written by the authors of the poem beginnings. I have a few more messages planned for the kids before the unveiling of the box.image

I have been thinking about “being chosen” a lot lately.  I don’t know about you, but there have been many times in my life when I haven’t felt good enough or qualified enough to do something.  It is human nature I think, to stay in that safe spot where we know what we are doing and feel successful doing it.  It is when we are asked to step outside that comfort zone (a place I do NOT like to leave) that we begin to convince ourselves we don’t have what it takes, there’s someone better for the job, and even I’m too old to learn something new. (Can you guess who has said that recently……) What I am learning though, is that when we sell ourselves short out of fear and insecurity, we miss out on opportunities and experiences that will enhance our lives. God designed each of us with special gifts and talents and He has chosen you and me to do great things!  Is it always easy?  NO!  Is it sometimes scary?  YES!  But in the end,  whether it be for the Poetry Box, a new job, helping someone, or you add your own, being chosen is a gift we’ve been given that will bring joys untold to our lives and those around us if we just have faith and leap (or tiptoe) onto the new paths put in front of us.