Please forgive the late edition of MY 100TH installment of UNDAUNTED JOY! For 2 years now I have sent out a week post of finding joy that week. May joy over flow.
If you follow me on social media, you will know why this post was late. My son had a violin competition this weekend where I also taught poetry! What a weekend! You can check it out on Instagram if you’d like.
This is a free post. Everyone is welcome, but if you haven’t subscribed yet, please consider it. Paid subscriptions pay my student loan.
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They will show up bleary-eyed. Uninterested. Texting on their phone. Still talking to classmates. Looking at the floor. Eating. Mewing. Running their fingers through their hair. Flexing. Slouching over to nap as soon as their butt hits the seat.
You will act as if none of this is happening. That you see perfect children.
Because frankly you do.
You remember being a teenager. Every single minute felt awkward and urgent. And these kids are precious. In the way they dress, to show off both their individuality or to hide and conform in simplicity. In the way they try to be older than their years, but they can’t possibly because they are still but fifteen and even their idea of what is mature or grown up is so out of touch with reality.
You notice that even though they are looking at the floor or on their phone or anywhere but in your eyes, they are actually listening. They truly are. They want nothing more than to be seen. That someone will notice they are capable of so much more.
And they are.
They are waiting to bloom.
You tell them stories—of the writers you will read in class and of yourself.
You will attempt to talk to them in a way perhaps no one has ever spoken to them before: like people.
Not children. Or teens. But someone you want to talk to. And are interested in.
Someone with fascinating things to say.
And because you talk to them in this way. They will respond to you in like.
You will not be surprised at their insights into literature or life. You are not surprised when they point out something new in a poem you have read 500 times in your life. Or when they share the poem they have written and it is so joyful or poignant or tender that you want to know more about them. You are not surprised because you knew it is always there, right under the surface, just waiting for someone to ask, to listen.
And when class is ended, you will be reminded of the old adage: who’s teaching whom, because you are so grateful that you got to spend time with these kids.
You pray over them when they leave; that no one will steal this imprint of God from them. That they will not believe lies about who they are or their place in this world. That they will continue to grow into the young men and women God created them to be.
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When I decided that I wanted to write a book on Joy, (Undaunted Joy: The Revolutionary Act of Cultivating Delight coming 2025 at Zondervan) I started to look for writers with whom to have joyful conversations. I read books already written on joy and then also books that were similar to what I wanted to do. What were these writers doing? What did I want to emulate? What did I want to do differently?
You might find a book or two to inspire you from this list. They are all joyful and thoughtful texts which I will return to and continue to have “conversations with” for years to come.
Please let me know if you will be at Festival of Faith and Writing this week! I will be there!
Beautiful. And thank you. Don't notice me. Please notice me. Don't look at me. Please look at me. Yep.
I love that this is your 100th post here. How appropriate that it's a post about your opportunity to teach the younger generation and, in turn, appreciation and joy (for you and them) in that experience.
So far my homeschooled son does not have an appreciation for poetry but perhaps with a teacher like you there is hope. 🤔
I adore what you prayed over them. I'm going to copy you in this prayer over my own children, their friends, and those I teach at BSF.