This Girl...

I had a little talk with this girl last week. My big girl, who was just a kindergartner the last time I looked. I remember that talk, too...

The morning was misty. So were my eyes. I couldn't believe that five years had flown by so quickly and she was ready to start school. She had spent every school day with my grandparents... my mommy's heart, even my TEACHER-mommy's heart, couldn't imagine that those teachers could take care of her the way she needed. I was scared to see her walk away into that building. And I knew how much the thirteen year journey ahead mattered for her, knew that this was the start of her becoming that baby-girl-woman. So, I did what I do-- I talked.

I explained to her how important it was for her to take school seriously. I told her she should enjoy it and develop and maintain a thirst for knowledge. I expressed my own love for reading and how it would always open a new world to her. I emphasized the fact that she was representing Jesus and our family, that the most important detail was how she treated others, that she always should show kindness to those around her. I talked for probably ten or fifteen minutes as she listened intently, her little face solemn in concentration. I closed with, "Do you understand, Emma?"

Emma: "Mommy? It's so foggy out there I can hardly even see those cows."

OK. Good talk, then.

Again, though, I've looked up and found that we are again coming to an ending and a beginning. As she takes those final steps toward the ending of a journey at Mayfield, a journey on which those teachers did take care of her the way she needed, even better than I ever imagined. I realized that the talk I give my second semester seniors is a valuable one for my kindergartner-turned-fifth-grader whose footsteps will soon be only an echo in the halls of a place that has been like home for six years.

Through some tears, I admonished her to finish what she started. It's easy sometimes to lose sight of the finish line when we get too close to it. I encouraged her to stay focused and strong academically. I explained that sometimes we get a little bit of a big head at the end and can forget the ones who got us here, reminded her that she is a product of Mrs. Burton and Mrs. Dotson and Ms. Mason and Mrs. Steward and Ms. Cooper and now Mr. Brown and Mr. Rogers and Mrs. McMahan and Mrs. Strother. It took heart and soul from each of them to pour into her to get her to this point. Keep smiling at and hugging those former teachers in the halls. Don't forget the ones that brung you. ;) We talked about the fact that, fair or not, the last impressions are the ones that stick. You can be the most wonderfully perfect student/person all the way through, but if you blow it at the end, that's how you will be remembered. Trust me. There are some very accomplished persons I see in town and all I can think of is the way they ended their time in the walls of my school. And then that kindness... the same kindness we hopefully started on. I know she's getting to the age where it might not seem as cool to be friendly to certain people and I so desperately want her to rise above that and remain that sweet kid whose preschool teacher told me she never made a distinction between people, whose early grade teachers often partnered her with a challenging student because she was so good with him. I talked, and this time, she did more than listen. She talked too, and we shared stories and experiences. It breaks my heart a little a lot to know that the situations that call for this talk are eventually going to end.

But I sure am glad there were no cows around this time.

Weekend Blog, Take Two

I actually found a post-it where I had several blog topics for a "dry spell", so I'm going to pull those out in a day or two if this mental block doesn't clear up. Until then, though, here are a few random and sundry things I wanted to make note of...

(Yep. It's in list form. Which means it will have to be 5 or 10, so you should be able to tell at what point I'm just blathering on in order to reach a normal ending number...)

1. Today at lunch, Kelsey made a point that it was her "most awful day at church ever". This was a bit concerning for me, so we questioned her further. Turns out, the problem was not exactly of a spiritual nature.
"There were boogers all over my chair. And I knew I should tell someone, but there never was a good time. So I just perched on the edge of the seat the whole entire service."
It's not exactly funny, but it kind of is. It also made me wonder how many times I just accept my circumstances (the boogers on the chair, if you will) to avoid making waves or calling attention to myself. Let's just say it's more often than not, and I don't want her to be that way. I'm actually a little surprised she IS that way because it doesn't seem like her to me.

2. It's no secret that I am a summer lover. I would rather get in a stifling hot car than a freezing cold one. I love flip-flops more than boots. I drink in the sunshine like oxygen. The Fourth of July has always been in my two three favorite holidays and it might be in my top two if it didn't just seem wrong not to have the holiday that honors the birth of my Lord and Savior in the top two... ;) Pools and lakes and oceans and creeks and rivers represent pure joy to me.
BUT.
I have just enjoyed the calmest, most peaceful, joyful, wonderful weekend I have had maybe in forever. It is the first (and probably last) weekend I can remember in which I had zero obligations or appointments other than church on Sunday. Nobody in this house had anywhere to be at any point. And the anticipation all week of this weekend was just plain delicious. It measured up, too! We ate at Stevie B's on Friday night, then snuggled together and watched a movie. My parents came by for a few minutes. I read, Kraig watched even more screenprinting youTube tutorials, continuing his obsession. On Saturday, we all slept in and then Kraig made breakfast smoothies and the girls brought me one in bed. We cleaned and organized some, Kraig made a Lowe's run, he and I worked in the basement, the girls played, my parents stopped by again, we snuggled, we ate a late dinner together, and the girls went to bed. I got some work done while Kraig watched a (terrible, awful, scary) movie. Today we overslept early church, went to late service, and brought Zaxby's home. Kraig and I bustled around the downstairs, picking up, putting away, making chili, making a batch of brownies, while the girls sat on the couch upstairs and played ipad games. I could hear their conversation and they could hear ours. I thought to myself,

"This. This is the beauty of winter. The quiet, the calm, and the together."

It may not be swimming pools and Bear Paw and sunshine and tan lines, but it has its own charm. If today was a summer Sunday afternoon, I would have a sense of "wasting time". If we chose to stay in, I would feel like I was wasting a day I should have/could have been outside or at my Mom's. If we went outside, we would have probably been pretty scattered, each person involved in his or her own things. And no matter where we were, I would have a heavy sense of time slipping through the hourglass. "Only x number of Sundays left of summer break..." I don't have that pressure in the winter. And while I hate to cheat on summer, I am discovering an attraction for winter...

3. Brownies with peanut butter M&M's in them.... It really needs no further explanation, but Kraig had the brainstorm last night to try it and he made a batch today. Woah. Party in your mouth, that's all I can say.... You're welcome.

4. Speaking of "you're welcome", not sure if anyone else has tie and scarf storage issues, but we have had one of those awful racks on the back of the door with my scarves on the hooks (falling off all the time) and Kraig's ties were on two of the tie thingys that hang from a regular rack and the ties lay across the little bars? Sliding off nonstop because the other hangers shove into it? Well, I tweaked an idea I saw on Pinterest and we got two towel bars and mounted them on the wasted wall behind the door, then hung his ties on one and my scarves on the other! It's like my whole closet life has been revolutionized! :)

5. We have a yard sale coming up. It's at South Cleveland Church of God on Friday, 1/24, from noon till 8, and on Saturday, 1/25, from 8-3ish. It's going to be fabulous and have TONS of great stuff. Come out and shop if you are local! It's to benefit our Cambodia missions team!

FIVE! BAM.

It's like I Stink at This

So, funny story... guess what happens when you commit to writing more often and regularly?

You find that you have absolutely nothing to say.

Yeah. So instead, I'm going to practice another commitment I made and go on to bed. Not early... but not excessively late, either.

{Who am I kidding? It's 12:47. That is SO excessively late.}

A Little Bit Messy-- In a Good Way

I read somewhere that posting your "resolutions" would make you less likely to accomplish them. The rationale (which actually made some sense) was that by posting them, you would get your incentive in the form of responses from other people, and then you would be less motivated to achieve them because you had already received the positive reinforcement. It's kind of like the trend of "slacktivism", or people who use social media for charities and causes to click "like" and thus feel altruistic. People are doing less today due to these social media movements because they FEEL like they have done more by clicking "like". Again, makes good sense to me.

Anyway, I'm not planning to share much about my goals for the year. Last year I wrote a pretty specific list on here and did about a half-job of accomplishing the goals on my list. Half's better than none though, right? 

However, we did have a moment the other day that proved to be quite eye-opening for me. Over a year ago, I received a beautiful leather-bound journal from a student. In the time since I opened this gift, this student has finished high school, graduated, and completed a semester of college. Want to know what I've written in that beautiful journal? NOTHING. I am just so nervous to write in it and "mess it up". (This seems to be a trend in this household...) The girls and I were talking and laughing about my issue and they both shared examples of when they felt the same way and could completely relate to what I was saying. As I have mentioned before on here, one of my main parenting goals is to not pass on the crazy. :) So it mattered a lot to me for them to see me use up that journal, maybe even help me use it up. We decided to make four big claims for ourselves in 2014...

Use it up.

Don't hold back.

Let it go.

Get a little messy.

We decided to set some personal goals, make some lists, do some dreaming, and end with some reflection in that journal. And we got started promptly. (It should be noted that it was almost painful for me to start writing. And I purposely didn't let myself agonize over handwriting. I may have even made it more messy. But, just like the year ahead, we went ahead and made our mark.)

I ended 2013 with a post that there was "Nothing Pretty to See Here". I'm intentionally starting 2014 "A Little Bit Messy-- In a Good Way". 

Nothing Pretty to See Here

I've kind of put off this blog post because I kept thinking I could come up with a more positive spin to put on things before I wrote it. That maybe I could think of the words to make what just feels bad sound good. That maybe with time, I could at least own my feelings and not feel so stinking guilty about my lack of joy and excitement.

None of that worked. So here it is, in all of its ugliness...

I'm so glad to see the end of 2013. I started this year with such excitement and optimism, and the first six months plus delivered, at least somewhat. I think that 2013 showed me some things that I didn't want to see. It forced me to acknowledge that the somewhat charmed life I have lived isn't promised. It brought me in close contact with days when you don't love every moment of your job and opened my eyes to the emptiness that some people struggle with on a regular basis. I brushed up close to the mortality of my loved ones and it didn't feel good.

My family had some pretty major health scares this year, all scares that were resolved by the Lord before they amounted to anything, thank goodness. The lives of my Grandmother and Grandaddy were changed forever, but we are so grateful she is still here to have a changed life. For the first time, I found out what chronic scary health issues are like, beyond my mild issues I have had in the past. Truthfully, I think I have battled some mild depression in the past five months, something I have never dealt with. These feelings either caused or were caused by a void in my job satisfaction and a struggle to find meaning and purpose in anything I have done. I feel a distance from the friends I had once been so close to. I avoid social situations whenever possible. And maybe most frightening of all, I haven't enjoyed that close relationship with my Father that had previously defined my life. I just feel distant, like I'm a spectator watching life carry on around me. And I kind of hated it.

The last six months have felt like I failed at everything I attempted. And sometimes, I didn't even care. That's not me. In fact, the only piece of 2013 that has brought even a modicum of success with it has been this blog. I have finally committed to writing regularly and it has felt really good. I referenced Anne Voskamp's end of the year blog on fb the other day and wrote my own status about it. That status is the best description I can give to my analysis of this year, or at least the last half of it...

"I am not ending 2013 on a high note. In fact, I am ending it feeling like I have completely forgotten how to play."

 I have changed my mind five or six times about posting this blog. While in many ways I am extremely transparent, I hate being a downer and detest feeling vulnerable. However, when I started this blog, I promised myself it would be a reflection of the true me, not the me I wanted people to see. And right now, and since August, this has been the true me. Maybe it's you, too. I don't have any answers. No solutions. I am going to try and change some simple things in the hopes that it makes a difference for me, try to remember those things that defined who I am and hope that recommitting to those things will at least give me a new sense of self and purpose. I'm going to discipline myself back into spending daily time with my Father in the hopes that what might start as a habit will evolve back into a closeness. And I'm going to wake up tomorrow and approach 2014 with all of the optimism that I brought into 2013, hoping that a year from tonight I will be writing a whole different reflection.

Math and Singing and Such....

I have these two daughters. And they really look a lot like me. Sometimes I find myself assuming that since they look like me, and often act like me, that they are little me's. This past month, they chose to participate in two activities that, though perfectly wonderful activities, serve as major reminders that my life and theirs will likely be lived very separately.

I will never forget the day Kelsey came home so excited that she had checked out her very first library book. As an English teacher, I was thrilled that she was so thrilled. She dug around in her backpack to locate it, triumphantly pulled it out, and spun around to me holding it up with the biggest smile on her face. The book? a little diddy bearing the title I Hate English! I think I gasped first, then tried to smile at the irony. My heart broke a little bit, though, to be honest.

I have so anticipated the day that the girls were old enough to introduce them to a deep understanding of the Holocaust, more so than the basics I have always told them. I decided last year that they could watch "Life is Beautiful" and really looked forward to discussing it with them afterward. Their reponse? "that was so sad and kind of scary and we don't ever want to watch anything like that again." Every time I've tried to get Emma to read one of the early Holocaust books I have bought her, she refuses by saying it's scary.

In fact, reading itself falls into this category as well. Neither of them are avid readers. I have lived in denial as long as I could and have finally accepted that this is fact and even spoken it aloud. But it certainly pains me.

This month, both girls were invited to be part of the STEM Club. For the uninitiated, that's Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math. (Yes, it could also be called the Future Earners of America Club, I suppose...) In my mind, it's Misery, Confusion, Frustration, and Despair. The very last thing on this earth I would have ever wanted to do is stay after school to do math and science FOR FUN.

I have imagined my kids as teenagers very frequently. I think when you teach high school, it sort of frames your context for everything. So I often see my students and imagine which activities my kids will pursue and which friends they would have, etc. I have always, I repeat ALWAYS, envisioned them as band kids. Band was a huge part of my life and I have celebrated the marching band shows as equally important to football at every single home game since they were BABIES. I rave about band. I adore band. And I have looked forward to being a band mom since before I had kids. This is still possible, for certain. But two Saturdays ago, they attended a show choir workshop and they both loved it. Do you know what I would choose to do only after I chose to spend an afternoon working math problems for fun? Singing and dancing in front of others. Or alone. Now don't get me wrong, I love watching our choir and I adore my choir kids. In fact, this year I have more of them than ever and I think I have developed an all new appreciation of their dedication. But never ever would I have anticipated having children in choir.

The next thing I know, these kids are going to be telling me they can't wait to go to LEE. ;) Old inside joke, don't panic--I'm a Cleveland COG'er, I can't hate Lee. (Besides, they already have. The current rationale is because they have a Chick-fil-A on campus...)

But honestly... it's not at all that I want to raise clones of myself (though the smart mouths seem to have been genetic) or that I am unwilling to learn about new things. It's just been a little bit of a shock to see them becoming their own people, people who apparently hate some of the things I love and who might love some of the things that terrify me. And I know that, as they age, these things will only become larger. They will very likely choose friends who might get on my nerves and one day date people I never would have selected for them to date.

But I realized something that afternoon I watched them singing and dancing on the stage of the Betsy Vines Little Theater, home of my one and only dramatic venture in the form of "Our Miss Brooks" in middle school... I realized that this parenting journey is going to be about letting go of my dreams to make room for theirs. I've picked my hobbies and chosen my activities and pursued my goals and ambitions and dreams. And now it's going to be their turn. And they will likely have false starts and missteps along the way, but that's ok. Because as Paulo Coelho says in one of my favorite books, "It's the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting." And far be it from me to stand in their way...

Dear Christmas

Dear Christmas,

It's not you. It's me. I'm looking for something or someone to blame but I'm not having much luck. I have considered the late Thanksgiving, the awful rain and gray skies from the past two months, and overall gray-ness that has permeated the entire second half of 2013... it could be any or all of the above. But no matter the root, this year, Christmas just doesn't have the sparkle that it normally does. The tree doesn't dazzle, the lights don't shine as bright, the elves aren't as active, I don't have any awesome presents I'm looking forward to giving, I haven't scheduled a single event at our home, and to just keep it all real here, the Random Acts of Christmas Kindness aren't even feeling very meaningful this season.

I'm trying really hard to maintain a proper perspective. I know that I have been so very blessed in my life and I know that Christmas isn't about any of the things I named in the above paragraph. But still. The big day is only 9 days away and I've got nothin'. Maybe last year was such a great Christmas season and so this year is a natural low? I don't know.

But I've made a decision tonight. I was looking at our nativity scene (with two elves in it... forgive her, Jesus) and thinking a little bit about that night and the days leading up to it. I know that there probably wasn't much sparkle on that journey to Bethlehem. I would suspect that the days were long and the nights were likely even longer. I've been pregnant. I know how hard it is to get comfortable in a king-size pillow-top bed. I can't imagine sleeping on the ground after spending the day on the back of a donkey. The stable probably didn't really dazzle much either, with the crowding and discomfort. It wasn't about the gifts, that year, either receiving OR giving... Well, except one Gift.

And that Gift allows me to take the pressure off myself to make the season perfect and festive and right. Thanks to that Gift, I can stop feeling guilty for not oozing green and red glitter and instead just remember two scared teenagers who made a conscious decision to trust. This might be my year to consider the scratchiness of the straw and the chill of the night, the odor of the animals in the stable. There was very little about that first Christmas that looked remotely like our Christmas of today. And so maybe this year, I'll quietly savor the love of a Father who looked into that stable, knowing the Cross that was to come, the humanity of a man and woman who accepted the way their community and society would see them, and the compassion of a King who willingly took on the weakness of a Baby. All of this so that I would one day have Life.