Joy, Joy in the Journey

Some Spare Time

2011-12-22T15:38:00.006-06:00

Hello, Bloggy World. I have so missed posting and reflecting on what is going on in life. My world has become very busy in a fulfilling way. I began the one-year learning curve (at least) of becoming an elementary principal this fall. That involves about 550 students, 800 parents and 24 teachers who report to me. But, wait! There's more: I needed a different certification on my Masters (which was a condition of my taking the job), so now in my "spare" time, I'm taking classes. And: I'mstillhavingunaccidentaldates. So, yeah: a little busy around here.

I have also had a season of unexpected losses of friends and family members since September. So much grief in such a short time that it takes my breath away. And I consider myself strong in the tough times. This fall I learned there is "tough" and there is "almost unbearable"... but for God. My prayer is that 2012 brings me some green pasture time to rest and refresh.

I've spent a lot of time in John 14 trusting God for His peace in this period of life. Peace that is not dependent upon external circumstances. I wanted to share a lesson from the devotional I use for my daily quiet times. (It is "In Touch" and can be ordered/viewed online through In Touch Ministries.)

God gives His peace to every believer as a gift, our experience of it is related to our faith in the following truths:

God is in control of everything. Without this assurance, the world is a scary place.
He loves me and will see me through all circumstances, no matter how difficult or painful they may be.
To have Christ's peace, I must yield my life to Him. When I hold onto my ways and plans, I'll experience turmoil.
I have a limited perspective and understanding of my circumstances and God's purposes for allowing them. His goals for me are greater than my immediate comfort.
The Lord promises to work all things out for my good. He is continually acting to conform me to Christ's image.
I must live in sync with God, walking in the Spirit and promptly confessing and repenting of sin.
Scripture is my foundation for peace. It increases my trust in the Lord's goodness, assures me that He keeps His promises and reminds me of His sovereignty over every situation.

(Me again.)

In this world there are going to be trials. But fear not: He has overcome the world. That little baby we are celebrating? He is the reason we can overcome this world and its trials.

Amen and amen.

Status Updates

2011-11-22T11:46:00.006-06:00

"Just found out my mother passed away. Rapid change in Thanksgiving plans."

I posted this status update to my Facebook account yesterday, and had over 125 comments from sweet friends within hours. Proof that social media can reach out and touch. Also proof that a dozen words cannot tell a nuanced story adequately.

The plan was for Young Son to fly with me to Wisconsin to see Married Daughter and her husband for Thanksgiving. As I am typing this, I'm waiting for Married Daughter's plane to make it to my side of the country to help plan a funeral. She's being picked up by her brother who is doing everything he knows to help his mom as she processes this newly unexpected wrinkle in the agenda.

My lifelong friends know the details of the life I experienced with my mother. I don't feel this blog is the appropriate place to share them. The best I can offer are the lyrics to Kelly Clarkson's "Because of You" to explain a journey I am still healing from as an adult with adult children of my own. I am dealing with this loss as authentically as I can: I am determined to not put on the "Fine, fine, everything is fine"mask, because I am decidedly not fine at this time.

Some friends have asked me if I thought there would be a final visit toward restoration. I knew there would not be. I discovered long ago that sometimes God's healing is done without homecoming. I was already prepared for the final bite in her will. Somehow, realistically anticipating that for years has lessened the blow.

And where am I now? I am mourning a lost childhood. I am asking God to prove Himself real to me and to redeem the years that the book of Joel says "the locusts stripped away". I am praying for wholeness, for the broken places to be strengthened and for proof that this can all "work together for good". I am looking for any generational tendencies to be broken off my children and future grandchildren.

"Pain endures through the night; a shout of joy comes in the morning."

Squinting hard in the darkness to see the light of dawn.

I believe, Lord; help me in my unbelief.

Knit in the Womb

2011-10-23T10:35:00.003-05:00

I have attended the same church for almost 16 years. The pastor is an amazing man who truly has a heart for Christ and our community. As long as I've known him, he has challenged us to be "Jesus in skin" for those around us, to make a "maximum impact for Christ" and to "do life like Christ." While his messages are always passionate and challenging, today's words were at such a level I felt like I should take my shoes off, because surely we were standing on sacred ground.

A young couple in our congregation found out they were pregnant with their third child this summer. The elation was soon replaced with the heartbreaking news that, while the baby was growing and viable in the womb, it would not live long after birth. After much prayer and (I am sure) heart-wrenching talks, they elected to carry this baby to term instead of having it taken earlier. They are adamant that the life within the mother's womb is a baby who was created "fearfully and wonderfully" (Psalm 139) by a loving God.

The due date is now upon this precious family. On Tuesday, the baby will be delivered and probably only live a short time out of the safety of the womb. Today, our church participated in a baby dedication for this precious little one that we will never meet this side of heaven. The parents stood before the congregation to give testimony to their decision and the grace that God has bestowed upon them during this journey. As our pastor noted, when you are "squeezed by life", you find what comes out of your heart. In their case, what came out was the love of an almighty, all knowing and all powerful God.

After a brief dedication time where the couple was surrounded by family and friends, we were challenged to give to a foundation that builds wells with clean drinking water in Uganda through an organization named Holden Uganda: http://holdenuganda.blogspot.com/2011/01/holden.html. These wells are named in memory of children, and we were encouraged to donate in honor and memory of this little one who will live briefly on this earth on Tuesday.

While we donated, prayed and hugged this sweet family, a song was sung called "I Will Carry You (Audrey's Song)" by Selah. It was by a sweet blogger I've read for years after she lost her baby in the same way. (You can listen to it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VLuaGiu73jc.)

At the end of the dedication time, our pastor prayed for those in the congregation who had lost a baby in any way, and who were still feeling the effect of the loss. The number of people who responded to this call was staggering to me because I am sure that my congregation is a typical cross section of any church in the area.

Praying for this sweet family on Tuesday. And thanking God for His grace and mercy on their lives.

Choosing the Good Part

2011-10-15T09:02:00.005-05:00

When I lost D, I designed a unique eating plan. It was called the "Put Whatever Tastes Good in Your Mouth" diet. It was wildly successful and caused me to gain 20 solid pounds. (Truth be told, it was a variation of a program I'd already been on for 7 years called "Eat Your Way Through Cancer Stress" diet, when my best friends on many long and lonely nights were sweet and salty.)

About 9 months ago, I had a wake up call when I lost a friend who was my age...which is far too young. I determined that I was going to watch every bite that went into my mouth, because it was time to get serious about a healthy lifestyle. Then, when I began my new job almost 5 months ago, I decided I was going to go to the gym before work every day from 5:00 to 6:00 am. (Please do not misconstrue that as a huge sacrifice: I am a morning person, and that is usually peak time for my energy level.)

The results have been a huge surprise to me. Because I am not very tall, I never really played sports. I didn't know the results of vigorous exercise could be more..well: vigor. Seems totally upside down to me, but all I know is I feel strong, awake and full of energy all day long when I exercise. Guess those endorphins really do kick in.

I've lost those 20 pounds, but realize the number on the scale is no longer the Big Deal. It is more about feeling strong and wanting to feel stronger by kicking it up a notch each day. (Which did result in a pulled back muscle when I "kicked up" too much weight on a machine. Note to self: you will never be a professional body builder. Dial it waaaay back.)

I realize how cushy going to a gym really is. The machines make the workout easier to track with all their bells-and-whistle displays, they all have ports for earbuds to listen to three televisions during a workout, and they shield you from the real world of pounding the hot asphalt during an outside run. (Outside in Texas is very hot most of the time.) But I show up every day, and that is really the victory.

There is not a day that goes by that I don't think I should just skip my workout and go to work early to get more work done. Reality check: the work will never all be done. I am a Type A, slightly OCD, organization freak. The biggest adjustment for me in this new job is realizing IT WILL NEVER GET DONE. Deal with it. And go to the gym every day.

My favorite day to work out is on Saturdays. For some reason, unknown to me, one TV is always set to HGTV on this day. I have found I can stay on the elliptical machine for two shows without feeling like it is too long. (Again: the gym is very good to me.) I looked down at the machine's screen after my hour today and realized I had racked up more "distance" (even though I had not moved) than a 5K. Almost 4 miles, and I was feeling pretty good. Googling local 5Ks today to see what it would be like on the not-so-hot autumn asphalt.

I would love to say that my eating is healthy every day, too. I do eat less, concentrate on fruits and vegetables and avoid the sweets. One major downfall is we have a wonderful lady who cooks hot lunches from scratch at school and HELLO: homemade chicken pot pie! But I do try hard to make wise choices in food selection. Enough so, that when friends hear me say I stopped for fried chicken, they know that my stress level is too high. Thankfully, Popeye's and KFC only see me about once a month.

I am learning that success is not a number on a scale; it is feeling physically strong and disciplined. A lesson learned...five decades in the making.

My Life in Bullets...

2011-10-04T21:00:00.003-05:00

Took Married Daughter and Loyal Son-in-Law to eat peppered bacon and gingerbread pancakes on the way to the airport. They were returning to their new home (in already frosty Wisconsin) after a quick trip home for a beloved grandfather's funeral.

Went to the wedding of former elementary school students. Groomsmen, maids of honor and singers were all former students who have grown into strikingly beautiful/handsome and wonderful adults. I was full of The Happy and shed a tear or twenty to prove it.

Went to my --th High School Reunion (we were the bicentennial class--you do the math). Somehow I had forgotten that everyone would ask about my family, and I would have to repeat the words "My husband died of cancer" approximately 6 million times. Clearly not the most magical of evenings, but I was accompanied by two precious friends who made sure I did not come or leave alone.

Back on the school front, my favorite "principal's office visit" yet: Kindergartner who filled his pockets with rocks at recess and then asked to go to the bathroom. On his little field trip, he deposited the rocks in the potty and flushed them...to see if they would flush. When I asked if his mom would let him do that, he replied, "Not rocks...but I flush a lot of leaves and sticks at home and they work just fine."

I have been surprised to hear from people at work, church and states away who have cracked the identity code of thecrowdedwords at the end of my posts. To ensure privacy of others, I am going to have to stop writing about that part of my life. Butitsureisfun.

Lots of Misc.

2011-09-24T17:25:00.002-05:00

I've long thought one question I'd ask God when I make it to heaven would be, "What was up with my hair and feet on earth?" I've posted often about my hair, which, during humid Texas weather, had its own zip code. And the feet? How many grown women do you know that wear the same size as her elementary students? People kept assuring me my feet would grow during pregnancy, so that some day I could actually buy heels. To the contrary: my tootsies only grew wide and stretched out the shoes I already had. But suddenly? The Chi hot iron and bob have made my hair manageable and (could it be?) stylish almost every day. And the feet? I walked into Macy's today and discovered I can wear a woman's size five heel. And the angels sang a Happy Song.

A mentor elementary principal friend of mine warned me this summer the age group that would visit my principal's office most often would be the kindergartners. She said if they can be trained at five, you will not see them as fifth graders. I was a little skeptical of that prediction, but she was spot on: my office is inundated by kindergartners almost every day. I spend lots of time on the floor handing small pieces of tape to my small friends who have ripped up their papers in frustration. I often have them call their parents to explain why they are visiting the principal's office. (Before they take the receiver, they usually give me a frown and say, "You are about to get me in a lot of trouble!" I usually have to cover my mouth to hide my smile.)

Our head of school is over six feet tall; I am just over five feet in my newly acquired heels. One first grader told me her teacher told the class they could not refer to me as the "little principal" anymore.

Knowing some of you are scanning for the crowded words found at the end of most posts lately: includinggrownchildreninmeetingsthisweek.

And off to another wonderful week among my 525 small best friends...

Weekend Update

2011-09-17T12:00:00.002-05:00

If there is even anyone reading this blog anymore, you may have noticed it has been weeks since I have posted...after four years of regular posts. There are many good reasons, and I will share a few:

My new, amazing job as elementary principal keeps me filled to the top with The Happy, but it also keeps me busy, busy, busy. Most days I don't sit down to the paperwork at my desk until about 4:30 pm. I'm getting better with the paper flow, loving the interaction with parents, students and teacher...but having little spare time to blog.

Iamseeingsomeoneregularly. That takes time, too.

I received some unimaginably horrible news about D's estate that is requiring legal help and heaps of emotional energy.

I love my new life.

Did I mention I love my new life?

Some of the best news around my region of Central Texas? The wildfires have stopped, we had a little rain yesterday, and the million day "over 100 degree mark" seems to have ended with temps in the 90s. Texas' version of fall.

Hang with me, bloggy community. Looking for things to settle down enough to have time to post again regularly. Aboutmanythings.

First Week

2011-08-28T21:45:00.004-05:00

My school was fortunate enough to have a three-day first week. That's enough time to get excited, crash, rest over the weekend, and return ready to go (hopefully) the following Monday morning for week two.

My first days were ones of reality:

Seeing the tiny tables set up in the cafeteria for the Pre-K class reminded me how precious and little some of our students are.

Hearing a kindergartner tell a friend, "Watch this: she knows me!" and then calling my name so I'd wave and prove it. (And my prayer every day is to learn ALL these names and faces quickly.)

Realizing there are days I don't get to sit down at my desk to do paperwork until 4:00 pm. (But the face time with students, teachers and parents is my favorite part of the job.)

Finishing a long list of email answers and hitting refresh to see 20 more emails were added since I began.

But the hardest reality? An armed bank robbery that put our school in a real Lock-down Friday afternoon. Of course everyone was safe and sound, but the realization of being responsible for all these precious children was very sobering. The teachers shared what the students said as the Lock-down continued long enough for everyone to realize it was not a drill. (My favorite? An eight-month pregnant teacher of seven year-olds. One little boy, after three days of school, finally got up the nerve to ask her, "What's wrong with your stomach?" When she answered she was having a baby, three other boys quickly added,"We were so glad he asked. We'd been wondering the same thing!" )

Week two begins tomorrow. Can't wait!

(And PS to those following my run-on sentences these days: anotherone.)

My First Day of "Principal-ing"

2011-08-24T21:59:00.003-05:00

I've been working at an "invisible" job all summer: a new principal with no teachers or students at the school. Today, the key players arrived for the first day of school, and our campus was filled to the brim with life.

I loved watching parents and grandparents taking all the first day pictures and videos.

I loved watching one of my brand new teachers begin her first day at our school. (The students loved her, too!)
I loved having the kindergarten classes come to my office to meet the principal. (I showed the Class of 2024 my school pictures from my first day of school!)

I loved having friends' children attending "my" school. (Welcome, Maggie Sue!)

I had the first discipline visit to my office. (A reminder we don't tell our PreK teacher we think her games are dumb.) I overheard my first entertaining kindergarten story. (Boys, of course, discussing stepping in gross things while barefoot.) I tied shoelaces, hugged crying children, handed Kleenex to crying mommies and overall had one of the best days of my life.

If you have read this blog for any amount of time, you know that the last 9 years of my life have been a very long and winding road. To find this job at the end of that path? In my mind it is nothing short of miraculous. I am so very grateful to a God who restores and blesses us in ways we could never deserve.

And at the end of the day? Flowers from Married Daughter and Faithful Son-in-Law, welcoming me to my new profession.

"This I will call to mind, therefore I will have the hope:

Because of His great love, we are not consumed.

For His compassions never fail. They are new every morning.

Great is Your faithfulness, O Lord." Lamentations 3:21-23

And, for those familiar with my posts, a little more news: thelastonewasnotaccidental.

New Beginnings

2011-08-20T22:52:00.003-05:00

I began my years of teaching in the early 80s. My first classroom was full of 35 fifth graders and was not air conditioned. (Oh, that I was making that up. But I'm not.) There were seven huge bulletin boards in that room that had to be kept decorated and were almost the death of me. (Along with the heat.) I was at the end of a hall with two other new teachers and most of the other (much) older teachers would not talk to us, let alone tell us how to fill up all that bulletin board space. The next year, all three of us transferred to another campus in the same district. Angels sang because we had air conditioning and carpet on the floors. A slight drawback was our shared space was that failed experiment called "open area". The only thing that separated our three classrooms were six foot high rolling chalkboards. The fourth area was for a special ed class. And did I mention we had 38 students each at some points during the year? Listen, if you can love teaching in those conditions, you were made to be a teacher.

The next school year brought a move to a smaller district. The only opening was first grade and I wasn't sure it would be a fit for me. I loved fifth graders! I had 16 six-year olds and spent much of the first week counting to make sure everyone was there. I was teaching 50% less students and getting paid the same? Double score, because I found a perfect fit in the early primary grades.

Babies followed and I stayed home with them. I heard there was a kindergarten opening when my only little toddlers were in half day preschool. I went to talk to my former principal to see if I could sell him on a half day kindergarten class. My chutzpah was rewarded with the offer of an on-the-spot created half day gifted and talented teaching position. One of my favorite years EVER.

Another move brought me into private Christian schools, where I helped administrate (and teach) a split level class of kindergartners and first graders (including my daughter). A magical year. Followed by two years in kindergarten that included my son. Perfection.

Shifts in life brought me through about 10 more years in private schools and five more in public schools. This is the first year I have not had a classroom to set up, and I am missing that a little bit. I love being a principal, but I miss putting together a room that will nurture and challenge little ones who will call it home for a school year.

Come Wednesday, the school year will begin and children will fill the halls. Bet you can smell the crayons and lunch boxes just imagining it. I know I can.

There cannot be another job that is as challenging/satisfying as teaching and shaping children's lives. 2011-2012 school year: You may be the best one yet. Can't wait.

Showers of Blessing

2011-08-14T17:21:00.005-05:00

I love blogging, but my posts have been sporatic lately with life coming at me fast right now because... The Teachers Have Returned to the School for Inservice! (More on that later.)

First, I'm catching up on the last few weeks that were filled with wonderful friends. And these friends pictured below? An elementary school reunion thanks to our friend, Facebook. Most of us still live scattered through out central Texas, but it was the transplanted Californian who initiated the meeting. (We forgive her for her initial suggestion of an outside meeting in the million degree Texas summer. Oh, to be in cool San Diego at her home.) (ROAD TRIP!)

In first grade, I was the shortest...and that has not changed. Neither has the sweetness of this group. We were amazed at how much we remembered from our formative elementary years together. I got downright giddy trying to tell others how rewarding and meaningful time spent with this group was after almost 4 decades.

And speaking of being the shortest? This is another former kindergartener of mine.

( And I had on heels.) K was leaving for college, and her mother threw a blessing party for her. Women who had played important parts in K's life were asked to come with a blessing to read over her. It was one of the most meaningful gatherings I ever attended and I think that I was the one who was most blessed.

And this little group below? It's a view from my seat at MY FIRST INSERVICE AS A PRINCIPAL. (Back away from the caps and we will all be fine.) We have two successful days behind us and begin our final week of meetings in the morning. I was given a wonderful faculty that was excited about beginning a new year of teaching and training up students for the 2011-2012 school year.

This weekend I went to see the movie "The Help" with my college roommate. (Do not miss this movie. Seriously.) One of my friends from high school (slash fellow teacher from my last school) brought over homemade lemon meringue pie to christen my new school year.(Are you lucky enough to have a friend who knows your favorite kind of pie? There is still time to make one.) Last night was a picture perfect wedding of a young man I watched grow up, with Young Son as my date. (My favorite reception moment? Sitting with a friend who told Young Son he read my blog and knew of YS's vegetarian "commune" living experience. I'm thinking YS may begin reading this blog very, very soon to see the kind of press he is getting on it. Thanks, RJ.) Today? Church and brunch in downtown Austin with a friend who is fighting cancer with all her might. My soul is filled up with friendship.

And right now? As I am writing this it is RAINING. The last rain of substance in my drought stricken state was almost a year ago. I think the 100+ degree weather may be under 100 for the first time this summer. Maybe, just maybe, a new season of life is beginning for me, too. And I am so very grateful.

Thank you, bloggy friends, for walking the last two years on this journey through grief. I'm looking for the rainbows now.

Shopping

2011-08-04T22:00:00.003-05:00

I have never really enjoyed shopping for clothes. Right now my "Back-to-School" needs are a little more formal than when I was a classroom teacher who spent a lot of time on the floor with six year olds. But is anyone selling dressier clothes yet this season? Nooooooo. I'm convinced that the downturn in the economy has also affected the amount of merchandise being put out in store. I'm pretty sure Kohl's has been pushing the same clothes around on racks since April or May.

I've tried--goodness knows, I've tried, to shop during the last few days. I recently experienced a lower level of dressing room torture at Marshall's. You know how hard it is to look good in clothes lit by florescent lighting? Well, that chain has decided that more is better, and installed two six-foot vertical lights in each individual dressing room. I mean, who doesn't look great with 1000 watts of light being beamed off a fun house mirror? Isn't that the normal lighting of your wardrobe?

(My first thought on exiting the dressing room was that I bet they didn't do that in the men's dressing rooms. Then I remembered I've never known a man who actually tried on clothes before buying them. So all the fancy new lighting was reserved just for the females.)

I even went to a store tonight that had the word "Dress" in its name, but there were few dresses to be found. Does anyone know of any stores that have dresses out during this hot, hot August in Texas?

And normally lit dressing rooms would be a plus.

The Happy About the Heat

2011-08-01T20:35:00.003-05:00

I am sure that we are all Sick to Death about all this talk of the heat. Yes: we know we are setting records. Yes: we know it hasn't been this bad in central Texas since the 1950s and we are closing in on that record quickly. But let's just embrace it for a bit and see where it takes us.

I find myself taking pictures of landscaping that is actually thriving this summer. I have a bit o' fear that my backyard may end up looking like the parking lot islands at the mall. Or the parking lot itself, since it does not require watering.

One activity that always blows fresh breezes through the soul?

Weekends away with precious friends! We found a town built around a lake and enjoyed cool conversation for two days. We had a balcony that framed the sunset over the water, and enjoyed the breezes blowing by the shady side of our hotel. (If only we'd taken pictures of that instead of having a stranger snap parking lot shots as we stopped for iced drinks on the way home.)

Even my backyard critters are learning to hang out and cool off in unnaturally flat positions.

Hmmm. Anything else going on? Well, I thinkImayhaveaccidentallyhadadate. I wasn't paying attention to the lunch invitation; I just jumped up and went. And that is a I am saying about that.

Fall is somewhere on that shimmering horizon. Hold on to that thought.

A Week Full of The Happy

2011-07-24T20:42:00.002-05:00

Well. The days fly by at the New Job, and things seem to be coming together for the next school year. I had some wonderful connections throughout the week, which is always a great thing.

One day's mail contained three chatty letters from former students, and a postcard from Young Son (who just finished another long-distance bike ride) that said, "Mom, I love you more than my bike." High praise indeed.

And speaking of Young Son, who is enamored of all things 1970s, he is now living in a co-op in a funky downtown Austin neighborhood. I can't fault the "House Rules": no alcohol and no serving meat. He is a semi-vegetarian who eats healthy most all the time. Apparently there is something about not being able to have something that makes you want it even more. When I went on a tour of his home last week, he told me he missed meat sometimes and kept a bag of beef jerky in his room. Meat as contraband. (Have a mentioned a time or twenty that Austin's quasi-motto is "Keep Austin Weird"? And maybe meatless.)

Young Son and I went out to eat with one of his friends from childhood. Tyler lost his mom to cancer just weeks from the time we lost D. You know how most of us talk about writing books about our experiences? Well, Tyler's book was published this spring. It chronicles his journey in the loss of his mother, but the perspective of God that he gained. You can order it here on Amazon as a paperback or a Kindle download.

I got to have lunch with my mentor in education. She was my sixth grade teacher in elementary school, and made me want to pursue a classroom of my own. She went from being Mrs. W to Dr. W with a PhD in Educational Administration. She has been a principal of another local private school for 30 years. I met with her to ask a lot of Big Questions. Her answers were concentrated with the wisdom of many years, and we had an amazing exchange of ideas. She wants me to call her by her first name now. Somehow, the adults of our childhood don't transition easily to being peers. I'm practicing her name in front of the mirror in anticipation of our next meeting with (many) more Big Questions on my part, I'm sure.

Today, I drove to one of my favorite little "antiquing" towns, to find my favorite store locked up tight. Guess I should have paid more attention to Sunday's store hours. No connection made here today!
But the best connection of all? I happened to have Facebook on for a few minutes early Saturday morning and a message popped up. A precious friend from college was in town with her family for a wedding: could I go to lunch with them. COULD I? What a joy to have friends from "back when". It seems as though not a day has passed since those late night marathon talks on the third floor of our dorm. She and her husband have a lot to show for those years since graduation; three beautiful and charming daughters among them. What a wonderful ending to a great week.

It takes a long time to grow an old friend. And surely there is no better investment in our lives.

Not Talking to Strangers

2011-07-17T16:41:00.001-05:00

For the past two years, well meaning friends have told me that I should consider online dating sites. In the beginning, my reaction was red hot rage. After about a year it cooled to an icy silence. Recently, I've been able to nod politely with a tight smile on my face (all the while thinking to myself, "There. Is. No. Way.") Depending upon who you believe, 1 out of 5 (20%) to 1 out of 3 (33%) of relationships are now made online. I know people that have met and happily married people they met online, but I, personally, still cannot even imagine considering the idea. Anyway...

The other night I was watching a movie on Lifetime. My sister has spoiled that channel forever for me by revealing its secret. (Spoiler Alert.) If someone with greasy hair and/or missing teeth utters the words, "I am not/ain't ever going to let you go", it is not going to end well for someone. At one of its breaks, there was a commercial for a free trial RIGHT NOW! on a Christian dating website.

(Adult Children o' mine: stop reading right now.)

I typed in the website while continuing to watch a Lifetime Channel movie spun out of control by the stalker of the week. I just kept wondering how safe meeting strangers online could really be. The first picture that came up on the site was of a man who lived about two hours from my town. He had a made-up screen name, but his profile picture showed a hat that advertised a nationwide financial consulting business. I googled his hometown and the business and EUREKA! There was his real name, picture, and business address. I then googled his real name and city and his address showed up with a GoogleEarth picture of his home. I am absolutely sure he thought he was completely anonymous. (And if something happens to him and I am considered a "person of interest" in the crime because of my search, I need you all to vouch for me that I am relatively harmless and not even all that internet savvy.) That little story is about as terrifying as a Lifetime dating-gone-wrong movie. I would not even consider working with one of those websites if I even considered dating again.

That would have been the end of that, until I was on Facebook yesterday. Have you noticed the advertisements placed on the right hand side of your FB page? They are selected because of your age. Suffice it to say, the ads I am shown do not show flavored lip gloss or Justin Bieber (and what is with his hair, anyway?) That day, my "age-appropriate" links were to (you guessed it): an online dating website. Except it was called Senior People Meet. First off, let me assure you I am almost two decades from retirement. I am NOT a "senior". Next, the picture that was posted was someone I recognized (slightly) from high school. He had used his unusual last name as part of his username. I am sure he did not give permission to have it posted all over the country, but when you sign up for those sites they kind of own your image. (And an observation about that image: Being a football star in high school does not guarantee you will have hair at middle age. Be nice to everyone when you are younger, because it really will be your personality that will carry you along later in life.) I digress.

Let these be lessons to us all: Online information is rarely anonymous. Be nice to everyone you meet, because you are probably going to meet them again. And beware of Lifetime movies late at night.

You are welcome.

Carry on.

Goodness and Mercy Following Me

2011-07-16T13:31:00.005-05:00

So, The Anniversary passed on Wednesday and I am entering my third year of navigating a New Normal.

I have to pause here in amazement and gratefulness for the wonderful friends who helped me mark that date. Cards were waiting for me at work. Flowers were delivered from friends from out of state. An old picture of D with our family arrived in the mail. (It was from our newlywed days; not the seven-year-marathon-of-cancer-and-loss days. The look in his eyes in that photo reminded me of those earlier, happier days that I have sometimes forgotten.) Calls, cards and texts from people who cared enough to mark July 13 on their calendar and reach out with love. Thank you, little village o' mine.

And last night? Another mark in the sand. Do you watch "Friday Night Lights" on television? It was D's and my favorite Friday night pass time. It was filmed in our area, and we had a few seven-degrees-of-separation with some of the local actors on the show. (And? Hello: it is about Texas football.)The actors, scripts, characters and filming were among the best on TV. (So, you know, let's just cancel it to make more room for bad reality shows, right?)

Anyway, last night was the series finale. 90 minutes of perfection that tied up five years worth of storylines. I laughed, I cried and I counted this among my favorite single episodes on television ever. When it was over, I posted my status on Facebook as "Goodbye, Dillion. You will be missed. Texas forever." I immediately could tell by the comments who followed the show ("I know. So sad!" and "All five seasons will rerun on ESPN Classics soon!") and who did not ("Who is Dillion? Where did he go? Is this like 'Where's Waldo'?"). I realized I have learned to bid good-bye with a smile on my face and a happy heart. That, my friends, is progress.

More progress? My limping along Grass Recovery Program in the month of 100+ degree days has produced growth that required the first need for a mower this summer. Except I no longer have a mower. I called my former grass company, from back in the salad days when the lawn actually needed to be cut every other week. The quote was staggering. Listen, if you took all the green spots and put them together, it would be a space the size of your living room. The rest of the lawn is held together by parched ground. There is no discount for amount of grass: it is figured strictly on size of lot. Drat.

I talked to a co-worker and she knew of some high school boys who could come right over. They arrived in the hottest part of the day and proceeded to mow, weed eat and blow my lawn into an orderly fashion that made it look hopeful for future growth. At the end, I asked for their price. It was a low ball figure. I paid them what the grass company had asked, because these fine young men were so worth it with their excellence. Hooray for parents who have raised their sons with such a great work ethic, and for teen aged boys who are willing to give up a Friday night to help out a stranger with their best efforts.

And now, a long, lazy weekend lies ahead of me. The possibilities are endless.

And the promises of God? They are "yes" and "amen."

Things I Have Learned on a Path Called "Alone"

2011-07-12T20:24:00.005-05:00

I had high hopes of an upbeat post complete with pictures today. Seems I've exceeded my blog's limit of free photographs. I do not have the emotional energy to add more photo storage because of a migraine. Which I can trace to a stiff neck and shoulders. Brought on by the dread of tomorrow's calendar page: July 13. Two years since I lost D. I can tell myself that I am fine, fine, everything is just fine. But the heart and tensed body beg to differ. So, we will default to semi-upbeat without pictures.

Things I have learned in the past two days/months/years:

While I do not normally deal with fear, a sound in the back of the house that sounded like a machete being sharpened did catch my complete and undivided attention late the other night. Two days of trying to track down its source led me to a junebug in a metal guestroom trashcan, desperately trying to beat out an exit. Relief can be expressed in laughter, and some bugs get a reprieve from the homeowner because of their spunky manner.

My new best friend is a lightweight leaf blower. It weighs only a few pounds, works on a rechargeable battery and does not require a 2 mile orange extension cord. It holds just enough charge to blow the driveway, sidewalks, decks and porches. Yard work just got a lot easier in this heat.

And speaking of heat: Just when you think it can't get any hotter, the car temperature shows 108 degrees. You can't see my pictorial evidence of that because of the before noted photo storage limit. People: the entire state of Texas has been declared a disaster area because of the drought. Yet, we still love this place. And look forward to cooler weather sometime around Thanksgiving. (Oh, that I was kidding about that.)

My crazy librarian friend, KG, brought me a care package for my new office. It included a journal with the title "Diary of a First Year Principal" (with the Wimpy Kid graphic altered to look like me), a glass jar full of premium chocolate to share with teachers, and a jar of peanut butter for the days I will miss lunch. (You can tell this woman has been in education for a looooong time.) One of the things I will miss the most about my former school will be Thursday afternoon library periods.

My quality friends, the W's, included me in their Saturday evening out. We had dinner at a gourmet grilled cheese sandwich restaurant, followed by dessert at a frozen yogurt restaurant that had Cake Batter flavored fat-free yogurt (accompanied by angels singing "Hallelujah"), and a showing of the musical "Hairspray" at a theater-in-the-round. A. Perfect. Evening.

A yard that has been neglected for two years cannot be fixed in a single weekend, or even a single summer. Some things, and not just yards, take longer to heal.

Two years. Quite a journey. No prayers pointed this way tomorrow will be wasted.

So, what are some Big Things I have learned?

Like Christopher Robin told Pooh, "Promise me you will remember you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."
And even more importantly:

Yet this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:
because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning, great is Your faithfulness.
I say to myself, "The Lord is my portion, therefore I will wait for Him."
The Lord is good to those whose hope is in Him, to the one who seeks Him;
it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.
Lamentations 3:21-2

Connecting the Dots

2011-07-04T20:50:00.003-05:00

I was out with friends last night, and they were asking how my New Job was going. I told them I am in one of those precious and rare times where I can see so many events of my life coming together and making perfect sense. Past jobs, relationships, experiences and training have all melded together to bring me to the wonderful place that I am in right now. I find myself humbled and blessed by this opportunity, and thankful that it has made sense of many of the last difficult years of my life. All things do work together for good.

My life is full of change, some very good change. My former 30 minute commute into town is now a 60 second trip. Seriously: I can leave at 8:00 am and arrive at work at 8:00 am. I have not filled up my car since my second grade class let out in May. My gas/toll bills just went down a few hundred dollars a month. Hallelujah!

I am suddenly full of energy to complete tasks I've been putting off. Grieving was a lot of work mentally, emotionally and physically, and I'm surprised at the concentration, endurance and attention to detail that has begun returning to me.

I also realize that the clearning of my mental fog has made me notice a few things for the first time in two years. Late the other night, I was sitting in the room formerly known as Married Daughter's bedroom, sorting through some boxes. I had a major aha! moment: I am alone in this house. May seem very obvious to you on the outside of the screen, but I felt very, very alone in my home for the first time. The protective numbing of reality has been lifted. It is time to adjust to (yet another) new normal. But one that is miles and miles down the read from where this journey began.

I end this post with a modern day parable:

There was a numb woman who let her yard go for two hot Texas summers, during the worst drought the state had seen in over a century. One day she woke up and realized her grass was yellow and was in need of intensive care. She began watering and raking and tending the yard. After a very short while, things began to look better and turn green as they responded to the attentive care. The woman was amazed at how quickly something that had been neglected for two years could spring into new, green life.

Connecting the dots, and the picture is emerging. Finally.

Finished

2011-06-29T21:32:00.007-05:00

I have been on a bloggy break finishing up some loose ends in my life.

I finished editing the pictures of my trip to Pennsylvania/D.C./New York with Married Daughter and Loyal Sister.
Finished this fun fondue before leaving Married Daughter/Loyal Son-in-Law's home to return to Texas.
Finished looking at the car's thermometer for the remainder of this hot spell blanketing Texas upon my return.
Finished Young Son's four loads of laundry on his last visit home. (PS: He lives in my town and knows how to do laundry; he also knows Mom can be a soft touch. That is why he shows up at dinners with bulky, bulging bags...)
Finished arranging D's shelf in his study with all my favorite mementos.
Finished moving to my new principal's office. This is the wall I face from my desk. You may notice the beautiful picture on the wall. Let's take a closer look:
This wonderful piece of art was made for me by my last classroom in May. It fills me with The Happy each time I look at it.
Finished my desktop. (My students gave me a class picture made the last week of school and made me promise to put it in my new office. Promise finished!)
Finished hanging the picture Married Daughter drew when she was 18. I hope you click on it to see the details. She is an amazing artist and and attended the school where I am again working. She learned so much from the school's former art teacher (V.....Vaughan). It is a reminder of the many rich blessings this school poured over my children and family since first entering it in 1995. I'm ready to give back with all my heart.
Finished hanging this above my desk to remind me of the influence we can have on others. I've mentored a precious teacher for the past several years, and she made this for me. It shows her first three classes, and the words say, "Thanks for believing in me, so I can believe in them." (Reaching for the Kleenex. Thanks, E.)
Finished hanging family pictures, because what office is complete without them?

Do you know what the best part of finishing is?

New Beginnings.

Amen.

Anatomy of a Blog Post

2011-06-17T21:19:00.003-05:00

I am amazed at the people who can post on their blogs every day (or every weekday and take the weekends off.) My three favorite daily bloggers are:

BooMama who makes me laugh every day with her Southern sense of humor and love for all things bacon. Her writing style makes me envious, and I find myself rereading sentences because they are so creatively written.
BigMama lives about an hour south of me, and represents the great state of Texas well on a daily basis. I laugh until I snort most when I read her posts most days.
(And Yes: Boo and Big are friends and often post a podcast together which is really like listening in on a call to your best friends.)
Lots of Scotts is written by a Southern mom of triplets who are now entering first grade. Her perspective is always God-centered, encouraging and inspiring.

I am just not able to do a daily blog, and I appreciate the readers who continue to check back with me until a new post is discovered about once a week. I have this week off before starting a new job and was pondering how I come up with posts on this blog.

This post began last Sunday over brunch with friends I have been blessed with since high school. One of the girls (and yes, we still consider ourselves girls, because I think we have maintained an internal age of 18 and where did these adult children of ours come from anyway?) was mentioning that she had read there is a section of your brain that is only stimulated when you are digging in dirt. God wired us to be gardeners back in the Original Garden, apparently.

This little factoid spurred me to actually take a good long look at my pitiful yard. I have let it go since D left, but this summer we have already had 15 days of 100 degree plus weather. Central Texas is hotter than Arizona at this point, and gardening is more of a survival sport than a creative outlet. Anyway, I decided to go out and dig a bit on Tuesday and started wondering how I did not notice how bad the yard had become. Part of it was the fog o' grief; but part of it was coming home after dark each day because I did not want to spend long nights at home alone. I popped the garage door opener and never gave the yard a backward glance. Now, however, I've decided to come up with a landscaping plan that will include a sprinkler system and a lot of rock work that minimizes the amount of lawn I will have to take care of.

Encouraged by the fact that I once again have brainpower and bodily energy (two-years in the making), I have felt like this is the week I will also tackle the garage (to sort through D's tools) and the study (to sort through the last box of mementos I have saved of D's). Taking the emotional temperature...and I am really ready to do this.The garage filled me with The Happy as I realized all that I learned from D like labeling paint cans with the room and date the paint was used, the careful sorting and labeling of boxes that contained tiling/wallpapering/painting supplies that I will probably need again, and the meticulously cared for tools that look brand new. It was a joke in our house that everything D had he had owned "since college". He never lost or broke anything, it seemed, and this fact led to my biggest laugh of the day.

The entire time we were married, D would always ask me where his triangular drafting ruler was. I assured him over the years that I never saw one, needed one or even knew how to use one. But he reminded me he had never lost one since his engineering classes in college. Well, as I cleaned, I unearthed NINE of those rulers in various locations. They are now proudly displayed in an antique wooden box in the study, and I will have to confess to a little loving and heavenward "I told you so".

So, my blogposts are just reflections that are sorted out and tied together...usually a week in the making. I will arrive at my new job on Monday with the last of the physical objects of D's sorted out. There is a verse that says, "First the natural, then the spiritual", and I am believing that God is at work spiritually healing me as I am cleaning out the final physical corners. We make a pretty good team, I think, and I'm glad that He is always right on time to finish His work in His timing.

And I'll bet He laughed about the triangular rulers, too.

(Ending on a slightly different note: I had a comment from a new reader in Alaska who said that my story of loss was almost her exact story. Except she is getting married in July. Alaska reader, I love to hear from you through email to hear the rest of your story.)

Choosing the Right Path

2011-06-14T19:09:00.003-05:00

I am back home after a great trip to Pennsylvania/DC/New York City. (More on that in another post.) Married Daughter and her husband will be moving to Wisconsin next month, so I took one last trip to see them before my new job begins next week. Ahh, summer.

D was always intrigued by the fact that there was a defined beginning and end to every school year. In business, the years must just pile on top of each other. But in teaching? There is always a clean line drawn between one classroom full of students and the next.

I like that order, too. I enjoy finishing a school year up and locking the classroom door behind me each May, heading off into summer. I remember my thoughts two years ago as I went home to face a terminal diagnosis with D that came to fruition six weeks later. I know my thoughts last summer were set on crossing the one year anniversary of that loss. I was convinced that some measure of closure would be reached--and it was. This summer? I feel as if I am stepping into a new life that is not clouded by the shadows of the past two years.

It has surprised me to discover that I no longer tell people who are unfamiliar with my past about losing D. If they ask about my family I will volunteer the fact, but I don't feel that his death is the defining point of my life anymore. If you have been reading this blog for any amount of time, you know what a huge paradigm shift this is in my life. I think of D often with love and fond memories, but the loss is no longer the largest part of my identity.

I know that I am standing on the thresh hold of a very clear passage in my life. I no longer wear my wedding bands after two years of off-and-on, on-and-off jewelry dilemmas. My goal during this last week of vacation is to put D's belongings I cherish the most on a set of shelves in his former study. I don't want it to be a shrine of any sort: just a special collection that will bring smiles and sweet memories.

In some ways, it feels like I have been awakened from a long, long dream. I realize that I totally let my yard go since July 2009, and am thankful for the grace of the neighbors as I scramble to hire a landscaper. I realized I've worn the same black purse for two years because it was simply easier. I find myself seeking out new colorful purses and clothes with a vengence. The fog has lifted from my brain and I am reading many books at once (oh, Kindle, you are my friend!), pursuing complicated paperwork that was languishing in boxes, and thinking in a pragmatic, clear and organized way that lets me know good changes are ahead.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
And miles to go before I sleep."
Robert Frost

Packing Up and Saying Good-bye

2011-06-02T09:22:00.003-05:00

Today, I read my last children's book to a rapt audience of second graders.
Why? Because the bell just rang on the last day of school and now they are third graders!
Lining up for the last time and heading out to a wonderful summer.
The next good-bye was bittersweet:

Farewell to my last day of classroom teaching.

Hello to my new job as elementary principal.

“Your days are short here; this is the last of your springs. And now in the serenity and quiet of this lovely place, touch the depths of truth, feel the hem of Heaven. You will go away with old, good friends. And don't forget when you leave why you came." (A. Stevenson)

Manager's Choice

2011-05-30T20:10:00.006-05:00

The last several days of the school lunchroom menu are labeled "Manager's Choice". Even a second grader knows this means they are cleaning out the freezers and every third student will receive a different offering for lunch. Let's just consider this little post as a BlogManager's Choice of some thisandthat and whathaveyou.

First off, look at what greeted me as I exited the school building on Friday:

People: it is not even June in Texas yet.
And speaking of hot, here is a view of my fireplace on Saturday afternoon:
A large raccoon took up residence in my chimney for about a month. I called animal control, but they said they could not come help unless the animal was loose in my house. (Everything heavy I own was stacked against the fireplace to prevent said entry, so that was not happening.) Anywoo, loyal brother-in-law finally resorted to a hot seat for the coon who rocketed out the chimney onto the roof in record time. My Facebook status that "The raccoon has exited the building" caused a neighbor two doors down to comment that he had ripped through her backyard when she was laying by the pool. So all's well now, right?
Well, except that night a large contingent of raccoons returned to the roof and fought over who got to take up residency next. I think my chimney must have some kind of coon hobo mark that welcomes the critters into the bowels of my home. Luckily, loyal brother-in-law has secured the screen with liquid nails and a boulder-sized rock. (He told me if I find the rock in the back yard that I should exit the building because a raccoon that strong should not be reckoned with.)
And one more former kindergartner graduate, towering over her former teacher. Heading to college to play soccer, she is as sweet as she is beautiful. Godspeed, EI!

I had a pedicure the other day. As the nail tech was painting my nails, an 80 year-old woman wandered in looking for "her" shade of polish. Ummm...it would be the same shade that I had chosen. I am clearly on the cutting edge of Memaw fashion.

My sister and I watched the last Oprah together. Loyal sister had posters up and buttons for us to wear at that little soiree. I never entirely drank the Oprah kool-aide, but who didn't have a tear when the men from Morehouse College poured in with candles while Kristen Chenoweth sang "(I Have Been Changed) For Good" the day before?

I was walking through my neighborhood early Saturday morning (see above temperature), and I came across a sweet older gentleman with a fireplace poker and an armful of American flags on dowels. He was poking holes and putting flags by everyone's mailboxes for Memorial Day. "My husband was in the service", I told him, and he gave me a flag to carry home. Happy tears on the journey back.

Today was Memorial Day and I was at school. Eating Manager's Choice. Because today was our bad weather make-up day. (But OH! that snow day in February was wonderful, and I tried to draft on that memory all day.) As luck would have it, our class was served chicken with bones. (Not to be confused with "tenders" or "fingers": real chicken.) The mashed potatoes, alas, did not have gravy. (It is probably being served with the mac and cheese or fishsticks tomorrow.) My class size continued to change all day from a low of 7 to a high of 12. (Most parents are home for the holiday and WHO ARE WE KIDDING? The report cards are already printed. ) Two more days and I am no longer a teacher...but I'll be a principal. Imagine that!
Happy Memorial Day, y'all.

Anniversary

2011-05-24T16:56:00.004-05:00

Today would have been my wedding anniversary. Loyal sister and I had talked about maybe going out to eat to mark the occasion. In the end? I had decided to just let the day pass without fanfare.

The memories came without prompting on the drive to school this morning. I know I am so far down the road of grief: I am near the two-year point now. But wedding memories? Well, they are still a tender scar apparently.

Imagine my delight when my students arrived bearing flowers and cards this morning.

They brought the most beautiful blooms and hugs. The moms in my room are amazingly thoughtful. I'm not even sure how they knew May 24 was my anniversary. I know they didn't know I had yellow roses at my wedding. Or that they were the flowers D always gave me on anniversaries and special occasions. My eyes leaked a little bit, but they were happy tears and we had a wonderful day in second grade. (Only six to go!)
I want to show you another gift the parents in my room are giving me. They bought a crepe myrtle (my favorite!) and have asked present/former parents and students to write me a wish, blessing or poem and attach it to the tree outside my classroom.
With support like these wonderful people you can imagine why I love this class and school so much. And why my heart has healed so steadily over the past two years.

I am blessed in this life.

Graduation 2011

2011-05-22T09:21:00.005-05:00

I may have mentioned a time or twenty that at the end of this school year, I will finish my classroom teaching career. I'm returning to a private school where I used to teach, but this time as the elementary principal. I am past excited.
One of my highlights of teaching there was this kindergarten class from 1998-1999. This picture shows "Come Dressed As Your Favorite Letter" Day. We were celebrating because everyone had learned all of their letters and sounds. ( My own children, who also attended this school, were in junior high at this time. I know they were thrilled to have their mother roaming the halls dressed as a blue M&M.)
Those kindergartners? They graduated from high school yesterday. I was honored to be asked to give certificates to the students who attended this school from kindergarten all the way through graduation. How did the time pass so quickly?

First day of school with GK...
...GK graduating. (She sang at graduation and has the voice of an angel.)
RW's first day of kindergarten.
RW graduating as salutatorian. (I am standing on a step next to her. She's grown a bit.)
JA on his first day of kindergarten...
...and yesterday as a high school graduate. (Nice tie.)
CB as one of my kindergarteners.
CB graduating yesterday. (She asked me to be her assistant at VBS last year, and it was one of the highlights of my summer)

Thank you, Class of 2011, for allowing me the privilege of being a part of your journey. I have kept up with all but a few of you over the years, and you've blessed me over and over again with sweet notes and visits. I cannot wait to see the plans that God has for each one of you unfold. I'm available in May 2015 when your college graduations roll around. Can't wait!

An Ending and A Beginning

2011-05-17T21:31:00.005-05:00

I have 11 more days as a teacher. That seems like an unbelievable thing to type because the classroom has been my home for 22 years.

I try to soak these last days in. It's hard because there is the usual end of year flurry of testing, entering scores online, paperwork and whathaveyou. It distracts from my view of watching the eyes of my students as they continue to discover something wonderful in each passing minute.I've been with this group of children and parents for two years and they feel like my family.They've ridden with me down the long and winding road since D's death, and they are forever imprinted on my heart. I'm thankful that I'm going out on a high note. Not that there has ever been a low note for me in teaching.

I'm awed because I know it was God's plan for me all along to be a teacher. I knew I'd be one when I was six years old, and have always felt like He led me down the path toward my first classroom. A classroom that included 38 fifth graders in an open area that included three other classes. I was in my early 20s and I loved it immediately. After almost 500 students, 10 campuses and untold colleagues, teaching is still a job I look forward to every day.

I spent hours this weekend beginning to sort out my classroom belongings. I had several piles going at once: one for the daughter of a friend who wants to teach early elementary, one for the daughter of another friend who is finishing her first years of teaching second grade. Another pile was of new books I stockpile each month through our classroom book order for two sweet girls who are in college studying to be teachers.

But the best pile? My favorite books held back for future grandchildren. (Married Daughter: no pressure.)

I halfway expected to be emotional during this task. I found that the excitement of my new job as principal outweighed any lingering loss or sadness. I did find myself thinking of this song often:

"Packing up the dreams God planted,

In the fertile soil of you,

Can't believe the hopes He's granted,

Means a chapter in your life is through..."

Looking forward to new chapters and new challenges. Pressing on.

Congratulations, Graduate!

2011-05-15T20:20:00.011-05:00

Graduation season is upon us. Yesterday I had the honor and privilege of being invited to see one of my former kindergartners walk across the stage to receive his high school diploma.

How did those 12 years pass so quickly?
I've been blessed to watch so many of my former students grow into adulthood, and I'm always amazed at how the grown-up version is so similar to the young child I taught in elementary.

Five year old HH was polite, hardworking, smart, helpful, trustworthy, compassionate and loyal. The older "model"? Ditto.

Godspeed, HH. I've loved watching you grow up well in the Lord and I can't wait to see the plans He has for you down the road.

The Turning of a Page...

2011-05-11T19:57:00.001-05:00

15 days. This is the longest I've ever gone between posts on this blog. You may think my absence is either because I had nothing to say or because I had too much going on. Yes and yes.

You see, some rather huge changes have been working their way through my life in the past few weeks. I was offered a completely different job. And I took it.

I had to resign my jobs as second grade teacher in public school(I will finish the school year out) and Children's Pastor at a local church (my last Sunday was Mother's Day).

I've had to start cleaning out 22 years worth of teaching "stuff", because I will no longer be in the classroom. I have begun sorting out multiple piles to give to future and present teachers in my life.

(Edited to add: Thank you for so many sweet comments...Blogger erased all but the most recent ones.)

I've set my mind to enjoy every minute of these last days in a classroom. (Even though teaching in May is more conducive to hazardous duty pay.)

And I am saying good-bye to so much that is familiar and beloved.

But I am saying hello to something I have always wanted to do. And something I feel I am now far enough through my grief process to handle.

I am going to be an elementary school principal at a private Christian school within walking distance of my home.

To quote a very dear friend, "How often does God walk up to you and say, 'Here is the desire of your heart. Take it.'?"

So, I'm taking it and looking forward to pouring my life into this position. I am so very excited about this opportunity. And so very thankful, too.

"The vision is yet for the appointed time. Wait for it...it will surely come to pass." (Habbakuk 2:3)

Reaping and Laughing

2011-04-26T20:47:00.004-05:00

Remember being trapped by someone else's home movies? Well-spoiler alert/warning--you choose: this post is going to be a virtual scrapbook of our holiday happenings.

Married Daughter flew in solo from Pennsylvania to spend Easter with her very excited Mama. What did we do with almost 7 days?
We attended a wedding where Young Son (left) was a groomsman for a "friends-since-childhood" wedding.
These two practically grew up before my eyes at a school where I used to teach. I've kept up with them over the years, and it was my joyful pleasure to see them emerge as two of the happiest people on earth at their wedding.
I was surrounded by my two (adult) children for days. Life is good.
But it can get better! Loyal Sister and her husband took us out for gingerbread pancakes...
...and lots of pictures that the kids patiently endured. (Probably because they know most of them end up on Facebook now, and they want to look good.) Breakfast followed by shopping and the movie "Water For Elephants". (Well worth seeing.)
Saturday involved more shopping and an evening with sweet friends C and C to attend a James Taylor concert.

Easter found me in church with my children worshipping on either side of me. My heart was full. It takes so little to make a Mama happy.
Easter lunch out with Aunt W--the last extended relative I have. She's almost 90, but still going strong. (A few things to say there: I'm glad I have her staying-young Swedish genes. I'm even more glad she doesn't peruse the internet and see I've listed her age. Egad.)
A beautiful Monday spent strolling through downtown Austin (pictured at the Whole Foods "mothership" store.) Married daughter left sleet to come home to 90+ degree days in Texas.

Ahhh, family time. It just fills me up. I love spending time talking and laughing with them.

It is our season for joy.

Finally.

And there is more good news coming...

Living and Loving Well

2011-04-17T20:58:00.005-05:00

I had a second friend die in as many months. I know that since losing D, funerals are a potential emotional minefield. I also know they are times when God has the complete attention of my spirit and my soul. When He is able to whisper of His mysteries and wonders to me. All I know is I am glad that I attended a service Saturday that spotlighted a life worth celebrating.

M had been my friend since high school when we worked at a theater together selling tickets and popcorn, and having more fun than we should have. She was the most genuinely loving and positive peer I have ever met, and that attitude served her well through a 12-year battle with cancer. During those years of chemotherapy and treatments she remarried, led a high school drill team, directed children's choir, taught Bible school, sang in adult choir, played handbells, developed a line of greeting cards for cancer patients, helped pass a law in honor of her mother to provide stiffer penalties for owners of violent dogs in Texas after her mother was killed by a pack of dogs while gardening in her front yard, and loved everyone around her well. Whew.

I've always loved in the Old Testament when one of the Patriarchs died, it is said they "died full of years." I have to believe if they died full of years, they also lived "full of years". M's years, though far too few, were full ones. At her service, the pastor read a list M purposefully left behind for her family, listing lessons she had learned as a result of her journey with cancer. She believed that each cancer challenge was part of God's purpose for her here on earth. She was passionate that God wanted her to share her experiences to help others. The program stated that "All who knew Marilyn feel so blessed to have had her beautiful spirit touch their lives." We should all touch so many lives in such a profound way.

Good-bye, sweet friend. You've left your handprint on our hearts, and you will be missed dearly.

Checking It Off the List...

2011-04-14T20:03:00.006-05:00

Is there someone you have always wanted to meet? I am going to totally reveal my inner nerd by telling you mine would be the author of my favorite children's book, "Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse". When I learned that Kevin Henkes was going to be at the small Barnes and Nobles in my suburb (and not the "mothership" store in Austin) I was beyond excited. The only problem? I found out about it the same day he was arriving, and I needed a ticket to attend. Tickets that were handed out during the hours that I was in the classroom. Probably reading Lilly out loud to rapt second graders. To the rescue: Loyal Sister who went to the Barnes and got me an "A" ticket. First in line position. Score!
I am Christmas-morning-with-a-new-bike-under-the-tree thrilled here. He gave a small talk, answered questions, autographed books and filled everyone there with The Happy.
But, wait! There's more! Today a fellow teacher and I took the afternoon off to visit the Texas Librarian's Association convention. We took the new train downtown and stepped into a wonderland of books, books, books.
And fringe personalities.
This is Mike Thaler, author of the Black Lagoon series. (Perfect second-grade friendly books.) Our students are going to be sooooooooo jealous in the morning. But they'll love the personalized autographs.

There you have it: my secret life with children's books. Life is good in the second grade.

(Thanks to librarian extraordinaire, Ms. G, for the tickets!)

Much Misc.

2011-04-11T21:16:00.003-05:00

On Tax Day Coming: Every year at tax time, D would have me sit by him at the computer as he did our taxes. I approached the 1040 with no fear on Saturday, and was done in under three hours. TurboTax Online: you are my friend. (Except for that sneaky thing you do at the end where you try to charge an extra $39.95 for direct deposit. Shame on you. I will have it mailed for free, please.) Thanks, D. Those lessons are still with me and I approached it with no fear or trembling. And got a nice refund to boot!

On Bulk Trash Pickup Day (aka "Put Big Things at the Curb" Day): Thank you, trash collectors, for taking the antique fencing D said I'd never use (he was right), the pots that filled the potting shed and the cracked trash cans that have been replaced by the humongous city-sponsored container. (A family of four could camp in there. Seriously.) A curious thing: all that I put out at the curb was mysteriously gone before the refuse people came. Recycling at its best?

On a New! Shorter! Haircut: I've tried this same bob since college. It's always the easiest to maintain with my hair's tendency to frizz. It looks neater, but short. I always seem to let my hair grow back out thinking it will be more obedient the next time. (Definition of insanity? Doing the same thing and expecting different results...) My only hesitation with permanently adopting this haircut is the memory of one line from the movie "Steel Magnolias" when M'Lynn said, "Oh, my gosh. Shelby was right. My hair does look like a brown football helmet." Except that mine is L'Oreal #8 Medium Blonde.

On Parent-made Costumes for the Second Grade Musical: I bow to your superior knowledge in costumes. In 22 years of teaching, parents have never failed to amaze me with their ability and willingness to do anything for their children. The spider's legs made out of pipe insulation? Genius.

37 more days in the Wonderful World of Second Grade. I hope they go by slowly and leisurely so we can really enjoy them.

(Except the insanity that is the last week of school. I hope those three days (one added for that missed ice day: drat!) fly by on greased skates.)

The end.

The Queen Has Spoken

2011-04-07T22:32:00.006-05:00

In my second grade classroom, we read a book called "Ready Freddy, the King of Show-and-Tell". The students had to write a persuasive letter telling why they should be chosen to be the first King/Queen of Show-and-Tell in my classroom. We wrote charts on what makes a good listener and speaker. My 18 eight-year-old best friends have been bringing in amazing items for two weeks : a 6 1/2 pound moose antler, antique sea glass, a catalogued sea shell collection, "my dad's very expensive not real gold" pocket watch, and a WWE action figure dressed up to look like an Argentinian gaucho complete with miniature boleadoras (to catch ostrich, you know). Does life get more interesting than sharing the details of the one thing a second grader loves above all else in this world?

Today, it was my turn to be the Queen of Show-and-Tell. I post pictures daily of my classroom on a blog I write for the parents found here. One of my students asked if he could take a picture of my presentation for the blog. The results were not too bad: most of my face shows, it is in focus, and I'm actually centered in the shot. You rock, little future Ansel Adams!
What am I showing? Well, when Young Son was 8, he was invited to the Governor's Mansion in Austin to trick-or-treat. The governor at that time was George W. Bush. For some reason I cannot remember, another mother offered to take Young Son to get his costume at home before driving him on to the party. This is where the story took a tragic turn: Young Son decided he didn't like the pre-selected Halloween costume and decided to wear army pants and a white t-shirt that he covered with artificial blood. The rest of the fake red stuff was applied to his face, and he skipped off to the party to meet the future President of the United States. To my horror, this picture appeared in the newspaper the next day.

At least it was run in black in white so the blood was not so brightly noticeable.

Young Son often uses this as his Facebook profile picture, with friends high five-ing him through congratulatory comments. Makes a mother proud, no?

To the parents of my second graders: hold those precious children of yours close. I promise this picture of my son was taken about 10 minutes ago. Now, he will soon be taking his college degree to teach in South Korea. And maybe sending me a show-and-tell picture for next year's crop of second graders.

38 more days of school. 18 eight year olds. Two years spent with them? Priceless.

Happy Bee Day

2011-04-04T21:12:00.005-05:00

On the eve of my Bee day, I accomplished something I am very proud of. I have a personal rule that I will attempt the hard projects before I ask for help. And......I assembled four of these cabinets for my Children's Church room all by myself! Thank you Rubbermaid, for easy instructions and for making me feel like I am strong, I am invincible, I am....but that's another post.
For now? Let's talk about Bee Day in second grade. My classroom is known as "O'Brien's Bumblebees", and it is decorated throughout with darling bees given to me over the years. For my birthday, we celebrate "Bee Day" with a day chocked full of fun activities involving that buzzing insect. I have books, worksheets, costumes, centers and anything bee-themed you could imagine. I love it, the kids love it, and a good time is had by all each April 2.

I keep a blog of my classroom (found here, if you'd like to visit) and post pictures each day. On Bee Day, the students asked if they could take a picture of me for the blog. Sure, I told them. I'll post the best one. And here is the winner:
My lack of facial features was more than made up by all the adorable cards they brought in this morning. (Except for the one that listed my age as somewhat older than dirt.)
Right before school was out, the student's parents showed up like a flash mob. They handed out snacks and treats and gave me a Kindle. A KINDLE!!! Please remember, I've had these same students and parents for two years--I looped up from first grade to second grade with them. They feel more like family than school friends. But: a KINDLE! The perfect gift for one who was an avid reader along with D, and who lost that spark for reading on July 13, 2009. I think this new innovation and the love behind the gift may just rekindle (get it?) (Sorry! I am just so giddy about this!) my love for reading all over again.

I have two options for these parents:

1. Let me retain all your children in second grade next year so we can stay together, or

2. Invite me to your family reunions, because I already know most of the aunts, uncles, grandparents and cousins in your families.

After school, my Ireland Traveling Buddy, Mrs. O'Reilly, and I went out to eat. (Side note: we are together so often that students confuse our names. Somehow "O'Brien" and "O'Reilly" have morphed into Mrs. O'Brielly for both of us.) Good food; good times.

Bright and early Loyal Sister showed up with her birthday explosion. She tends to dress me up for my birthday. Here is her classic Camero waiting to whisk me away.

You may notice she gets to look glamorous in her photos...
We went to some perfect little central Texas towns to shop, talk and eat great food. (If you're local, you already know the wonderfulness of Gruene and New Braunfels...)
Every year she also has a button for me to wear to announce to everyone why we are out and about. I kind of like this three year old version of me on this year's button. (The all time low was the year when she passed out the third grade version of me with cat-eye glasses to everyone in my school. But I'm over it. Mostly.)
Here's this year's version of me at our last stop at a cupcake shop. Thanks for a great day, Loyal Sister. Please remember that you have a Very Big Birthday in July. And I'm sure you wore cat-eye glasses at some juncture in your life.
On Sunday, Young Son took me to a very special brunch. D and I always went here for my birthdays or Christmases, and I've missed it so much. It is a lovely older home that has become surrounded by a funky south Austin neighborhood, but it still retains its genteel charm. Young Son had flowers and gifts, and requested the pianist play my favorite song, "Unchained Melody". My eyes leaked profusely, but we had a great time as we lingered to talk and talk.

After dinner, we went for a walk around the grounds where several peacocks roam on the lawn...
...and Young Son attempted to catch up with one. You can dress 'em up, but they are still that little boy at heart.

My former college roommate gave me a cobalt blue purse to encourage my new resolve to live a more colorful life. Married Daughter is bringing my gift when she comes home for Easter. Friends have called and written all weekend.

In this life, I am blessed with more good friends and wonderful family members than I can possibly deserve. Thanks to each one of you. You certainly are wonderful companions on this road of life.

The Good, the Bad and the Very Ugly

2011-03-26T18:27:00.005-05:00

THE BAD

I had Big Plans for this weekend. That were swiftly interrupted by a trip to the emergency room this morning.

I bought a ceramic curling iron yesterday and decided to give it a go this morning before family came over to take me to lunch. I cranked it up to the highest setting , and promptly dropped it on the carpet. I had the clarity of mind to step back so it didn't land on my bare feet. I remember thinking I shouldn't grab it by the black end, because that end of my Chi = the Dangerous Side. Hmmm. Seems there is a different Wrong End of the newest instrument of hair torture in my home.

I closed my entire right hand around the barrel for a nano second. You know: the amount of time for the brain to scream "DROP IT LIKE IT'S HOT!" Because it was setting 24 worth of The Hot.

I immediately grabbed a handful of ice as the relatives stopped by to pick me up for lunch. With a surprise detour to have a doctor assess the damage. Apparently, icing it quickly kept the burn from going too deep: "only" first and second degree burns that needed to be medicated, wrapped and elevated with ice packs. And pain meds that caused me to lose the remainder of the afternoon.

I am convinced doctors do not figure in the size of a person when prescribing medication. I am 5 feet tall. I'm thinking a 6 foot, 300 pound man would receive the same Rx. Summarizing: I no longer feel the pain in my hand, but I also do not have the mental activity to remember my children's names. Nor can I follow any television shows more complicated than "Storage Wars" or "Auction Kings". My brain is reduced to the lowest possible denominator by this medicine.

THE GOOD

Young Son stayed for a while with me to make sure I was going to be okay. While we were visiting (read: he was talking, I was listening through a legally induced drug fog), he said, "Wow. Look at the size of that lizard on the carpet by the window." My arch nemesis and quasi-roommate The Lizard (discussed in this post) was staring me down. Probably knowing I was vulnerable to attack. Little did he know that Young Son has trapped critters for lo, these 24 years and said lizard was going down. Using a small trash can, file folder and trashbag, the freeloader was evicted to the outdoors in a matter of seconds.

THE VERY UGLY

(And you probably thought I was exaggerating.)

Good riddance, wayward reptile. At least the skin on my hand will heal. You shall always have lizard skin. Outside. Where you belong.

Mile Marker

2011-03-19T21:36:00.004-05:00

Today would have been D's birthday; the second without him. Last year this day was quite a struggle for me. I was pleasantly surprised to find today was full of good memories of happy times. Loyal Sister spent the day antiquing with me, and we happened to go to many of the places D and I enjoyed visiting together. He came up in our conversations often and easily. We laughed more than once over things he had said and done. It has become so natural to talk about him, and include memories of him in conversation.

Some of the last words I spoke to D were to reassure him it was alright to leave because he had fought the good fight with cancer long enough to see all the kids graduate from high school and most of them finish college. I know he would be so proud of all they have accomplished since he left us. H is graduating from Seminary in May. E is graduating in August and getting married in September. K and her husband J are being transferred to Wisconsin. Young Son, C, is making plans to move to South Korea to teach this fall. D did not raise slacker children.

Today, I remembered some of the last words that D spoke to me. He was deep in thought and he turned toward me and said, "I've just decided. I know that you are going to be fine when I'm gone. You have great friends and family and they are going to take good care of you." He was so right. But I wish he was here taking care of me, too.

And guess what? I type that sentence on my keyboard without tears, without pain in my heart. He is where he is supposed to be and so am I. God will continue to heal my heart and put me steadfastly on the path He has for me.

But D: You are never far from my thoughts and my heart. And those thoughts are now so full of happy memories. Happy Birthday, Baby. I'm forever changed by the years I shared with you.

Customer Service WIth/Without a Smile

2011-03-18T10:25:00.004-05:00

I'm in Lowe's to make a big purchase. But I have questions. So, I do what I always do: try to flag down an employee. They do what they always do when they see a woman with questions: grab their store phone and pretend to be deep in Important Conversation. Not this time, buddy. I'm not falling for it. I plant my little feet in front of the chattering employee and force him to make eye contact.

"Can I help you?" he asks, less than enthusiastically, and truth be told, less than willingly.

"Yes," I reply. "Are you busy?" (No points for imitation busy, mister.)

"Well. Yes. Sort of. Can you make it quick?" he semi-barks, while he reluctantly puts away his store phone (aka female customer avoidance device.)

If you've read this blog for a while, you know that I buy lots of stuff and services at Lowe's. (And Lowe's if you track blogs, contact me and I can give you an ear full on your less than helpful/courteous/informed employees.) I left the store with my purchases, carefully saving the receipt because I'm not convinced the choice of merchandise I made was a good one. Partly because my helper was eager to get back to his faux phone calls.

I leave and head out for another errand, when I notice that I am pretty irritated. And I am hot. In the physical sense. Seems my car's air conditioner has conked out. Kaput. Finished.

I had the car in with my favorite mechanic that morning and he had replaced some kind of pump. I'm not sure if the new part is anywhere in the neighborhood of the air conditioning. But I know it was working when I handed the keys over to Chuck. (Yes, we are on a first name basis. I can do many things, but car repair is not and never will be among them. Amen.)

I frantically called him and he told me to bring it in first thing this morning. I am amazed at how quickly my thoughts turned to just how bad this could be. Texas in the summer requires an air conditioner; there is no other option save moving to Canada. I thought of having to buy another car. Of the sweet lady who is fighting cancer that I want to take out for dinner. She can't ride in a steaming hot car. Of how grumpy I get when I am hot and sweaty. Drat.

I took the car in today and Chuck immediately began looking it over. I sat in the waiting room and prayed, wondering if God really would reach down from heaven and fix my car's a/c. Or guide Chuck to the easy fix.

Moments later, he strolled in. "All finished," he proudly proclaimed. Seems there is a button that must be pushed for the air conditioning to produce cold air. It must have been inadvertently pushed yesterday during the repair. Or my flayling after my Lowe's visit. And then, the second miracle: no charge.

Chuck: you are my hero. You could have sold me a new a/c unit, and I'd have found the money to pay for it. I've lived through far too many Texas summers to know it can't be done without the cooling. And I'd have eaten beans and rice for a year if necessary.

I took Chuck and his guys the finest homemade cookies HEB (our local grocery) could produce. I'm thankful for his honest, integrity and customer service. The Lowe's guy? Putting him on hold for a while.

Learning Curves

2011-03-16T22:22:00.007-05:00

I just returned from a wonderful Spring Break trip to the bustling 'burb of Broken Arrow, Oklahoma. Yet another reunion with precious high school friends where we talked, ate and shopped nonstop. NONSTOP. I feel that my life is sorted out, enriched and blessed beyond compare during these visits.

Now? Back to the Real World. Where Daylight Savings time wreaked havoc with my clocks, cable and wireless internet in my absence. Deep breath. I can do this. When in doubt, unplug the device and plug it back in. HALLELUJAH! All electrical paraphernalia set right.

Feeling a little heady, I decided to reset the clock in my car. And not wait for six months until the time is correct again next fall when DLS time returns. Which I may or may not have done before. The secret was revealed in the owner's manual: push the button labeled "clock". Who knew?

I have now taken care of my day-to-day home maintenance for 20 months. I think it is interesting that loss is measured in months, just like a toddler's age. There is so much change that it must be labeled month by month, and not rounded to the nearest year. When Married Daughter was a little thing and wanted to do something without help, she'd say, "I want to do it by my big self." I guess I've learned to do quite a bit by my "big self" now.

I do miss having D to bounce ideas off, and to ask for advice. I've learned to seek others for their opinions on things like which GPS to purchase, how much a water pump for the van should cost, and how necessary is a sprinkler system when I have the yard re-sodded. (Very necessary, apparently, if I want the sod to live in the Texas summer heat.)

When was the last time you did something for the first time? That seems to be a pretty frequent occurrence in my life. I don't love it, but I don't mind so much anymore. That car clock reduced me to a puddle the first DLS time without D. I just mentally added an hour on to the time for six months.

One very interesting change has come slowly. During our reunion, one of my friends mentioned to me that in the Bible, a woman was not considered a widow (meaning she was to be totally taken care of by others) until she was 60. (I Timothy 5:9) I'm a good ways from that age, and I've never really applied the word "widow" to myself. (And, by the way: isn't widow a strange little word?) I guess that makes me single instead.

But, considering the great friends and family I have? Single is not alone. Definitely not alone.

Just Do It

2011-03-09T21:05:00.002-06:00

I am becoming increasingly convicted of eliminating the following words from my life: "Well, maybe someday I will be able to do that...." No more. (Or, as someone who has two years of high school Spanish under her belt from X decades ago: No mas.)

I have done Beth Moore Bible studies since she began releasing them. I have always been amazed that they seem to minister to whatever I have going on in my life at that time. Words of Truth can do that.

A teacher friend and I heard that Beth (surely boxes of completed Bible studies put me on a first name basis) was introducing her new study on the book of James. (The "Count it all joy" book.) My friend and I decided to make the three hour drive to Beth's church to attend, and began making plans for how to pull it off. Well, last night (on the final night) we made it.

And? Oh.My.Word. Can we all agree that it was a wonderful evening and totally worth the drive, sub plans and personal day off? (And an even sweeter layer to the evening was when some friends who live in the area met us there.)

Someday activities? In the future, they will be an appointed dates on my calendar. In ink.

Home Videos

2011-03-07T23:08:00.002-06:00

I read about Animoto.com on FiddleDeeDee's blog today. She made an amazing video of her family and I decided to give it a try. The 30 second videos are free, but you can purchase more time. The finished product made me happy! Click the word "Friends" to watch...

Friends

Memories, Light the Corners of My Mind

2011-03-05T09:54:00.004-06:00

I love blogging. I really do. But I've found my full time job combined with my new part time job (and meetings, meetings, meetings) have reduced my free time significantly. If I'm not doing something for these two jobs (or meeting about doing future things), I'm thinking about what needs to be done. Makes you want to take a nap just reading that, doesn't it? I'm not experiencing stress: just staying busy.

So it was a lovely realization that I have absolutely nothing on my calendar this weekend for the first time since Christmas. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. And I intend to lounge in my jammies as long as possible with good coffee in reach.

I have been very mindful that being busy cannot take the place of continuing to work through grief. I have learned over the last 18 months that pushing down thoughts and feelings will only allow them to fester, grow and present themselves at the most inopportune times.

I continue to think, pray, reflect and talk with friends about my loss, but I've noticed a wonderful thing emerging: the memories I am now dwelling on are the happier ones from earlier in D's and my relationship. For so long, the forefront of my mind was focused on those last intense and wrenching years of continual hospital stays, unimaginably brutal operations and hearing doctor's words that left me stunned for days.

But now? I'm remembering the sweetness of a courtship that began during a beautiful autumn, a perfect honeymoon in Hawaii, long leisurely trips in San Francisco, Chicago, Pasadena, Asheville, Maine and Missouri. Special trips to Disney; cruises to the Caribbean. Life was good for many years.

One of my biggest frustrations as the cancer ramped up was that I could not be physically close to D. Walkers, medical equipment, lift chairs and hospital beds often kept us from holding hands while walking or even sitting beside each other for years at a time. It is a gift to remember the times when we were able to walk closely alongside each other, holding hands and kicking sand. A subtle reminder to married couples to take nothing for granted.

So, I end quoting Barbra Streisand, thankful that she had already put my newly formed thoughts into words:

"So it's the laughter

We will remember

Whenever we remember

The way we were..."

Thanks for the years of laughter, D. They continue to fill my heart with The Happy.

Here, Lizard, Lizard, Lizard

2011-02-24T14:33:00.003-06:00

One thing that I've been very thankful for since losing D is that I have not dealt with fear in being alone. I live in a safe neighborhood in a quiet suburb, and I have friendly yet alert neighbors. Nothing gets past their watchful eyes and near my home. Until a few weeks ago.

I was stepping into D's office from the outside deck, when I felt the eyes of an unwanted visitor. A large lizard had slipped in and was throwing himself frantically against the sliding glass door to get out. When I tried to help redirect him (with a broom), he squeezed under a piece of furniture and continued his flipping around under there. This was no Geico gecko. This was his goliath cousin from the Amazon, and I'm not sure how he ended up in central Texas. Or in my home.

I lived for two weeks refusing to believe that he may still be in my house. At one point I think I heard him performing that flipping move in my bedroom, but when I regained consciousness I did not see him anywhere. Denial: it's not just a river in Egypt.

Earlier this week I was walking through D's study admiring the sunny day outside, when I spied my arch nemesis about 6 feet up a wall just hanging around. And eyeing me. Again, I tried to helpfully sweep him out the door into the backyard, but he scuttled and flipped into the laundry room. I will really miss having clean clothes in this lifetime.

The picture above shows Plan B: stuff a table cloth under the door to the laundry room and hope the lizard relocates outside through the open garage door. I'll really miss never using that table cloth and my garage again, too.

I'm not sure how I will know when/if the lizard has left the building. Like the Taco Bell chihuahua, I think I may need a bigger box. Or a new house.

Changing and Moving On

2011-02-20T17:50:00.004-06:00

You may have noticed that my posts have slowed down considerably since the first of the year. I'd say that is a direct result of the work I am now doing with the children's ministry at my new church. I am so enjoying being stretched and challenged by the growth we are seeing and anticipating in the future. But blogging time just isn't what it used to be.

I have spent a lot of time thinking of all the changes in my life since losing D 18 months ago, and what he would think of those changes.

I know he would be very proud of the work I've had done to finish the house and all his unfinished projects. We had done so much talking about how those projects would look finished (he was a believer of the axiom "Begin with the end in mind") that I knew exactly how he would have carried out the tasks. He had chosen the red front door I eventually had installed. He left plans for the completion of the bookcase units in the living room, the plant stands thisclose to being finished, and various other projects he didn't have the strength or days to complete. One of my toughest moments after loosing him was spent fishing drawings out of his office trash can, knowing that he had sat and literally thrown his dreams away. But now? The ones I could finish are finally done.

I also know he'd be not so happy about the fact that I now have a microwave oven and electric blanket. (Radiation issues to him, and items we had not owned during his 7 year journey through cancer.) And he'd be much less than pleased about the small fire I had in the kitchen a few weeks ago that damaged the counter. Drat.

I have also been very aware of some things I'm doing now that I would not have done while D was alive. I know I would not have taken this job at the church, but now the season seems so right. I never would have taken as many trips, or had dinners out with friends as often as I do now. The moving on is hard because, obviously, I'd never trade having him here for the things I am enjoying in my new season of life.

And today? I took a really big step into my future. I had 8 people over for lunch after church today. And I served a meal that involved turning on the stove. (You laugh. I'm pretty sure that stove has sat cold for probably 17 1/2 months.) And, amazingly, a good time was had by all. Including me. I love to entertain, and (except for that newly burned counter) my home is a good place to have company. I'm sure my guests had no idea what a big occasion today's meal was for me. I felt like I crossed the line at a marathon for all the emotional healing God's done in my heart to get to the place that I am today. A place I did not think I'd ever reach a year and a half ago.

The plans of God? They are yes and amen.

Goodbye, Sweet Friend

2011-02-15T20:24:00.002-06:00

Susan Elaine Cardwell Owen, 56 of Round Rock, Texas, passed away February 5, 2011. Susan was born in Baytown, Texas, on August 17, 1954. She was the oldest of three children born to Wayne and Katherine Cardwell.

Susan graduated from McCallum High School in 1972 and later earned her bachelor’s degree from the University of Houston. She married her Jr. High sweetheart, Roger Owen, on April 22, 1972, and they had two sons, Starsky Shane Cardwell Owen and Clint Alden Cardwell Owen.

Susan was a person transformed by the love of Christ. She was absolutely selfless in her constant care for her family and young grandchildren. Her passion for children and Christian education was evident in her 25 years of service at Round Rock Christian Academy – where she worked as a Teacher, Principal, and Administrator. Her giving spirit was also clearly seen in the time and energy she and Roger invested in the elementary students of Central Baptist Church.

Snow Day...Texas Style

2011-02-08T20:18:00.003-06:00

This post is so late I probably would not have run it. But tomorrow we have the possibility of ice and snow again. I, for one, want to experience the delightful anticipation/possibility of a snow day again. (Because SPOILER ALERT we had a Snow Day from school last Friday!)

Taking it back to last Wednesday, central Texas temps plunged into the teens. This is very unusual for our neck of the woods. What was more unusual (make that unheard of) was a new phenomenon for these parts called "rolling blackouts." The electric "grid" was under such high usage that someone somewhere decided that electricity would come and go at will throughout the day to conserve it for people who really needed it. Apparently, my second grade classroom did not qualify, nor did the rest of the school. I had gone in early to run some papers, and found street lights, traffic lights, and in fact, all lights, off in my school's neighborhood. Children and parents eventually began arriving, and were assured that electricity would return soon. I ushered my students into a room with no light or heat, and the temperature hovered at about 40 degrees inside. The power would come on for about 10 minutes, and then stay off for 50 minutes, each hour. You may have guessed that there was little quality education going on. It's hard to write when your fingers are numb from cold. And I salute all the former inhabitants of the Little House on the Prairie for making those conditions sound like fun.

Before sending my class to lunch (where the cooks, unable to cook without electricity, were providing peanut butter sandwiches and apples ) I was told I could call my students' parents to see if they could be picked up. I had the advantage of having this class last year, and I know not only parent's phone numbers, but also grandparents, neighbors and babysitters of my students. The room was cleared in about 45 minutes and I got to go home (where there was electricity) and try to warm my hands and feet to the point that I could feel them again. (Again: Laura Ingalls Wilder: You have grown in my estimation of you for thriving during all those long, cold winters.)

We returned to a school with full electricity on Thursday, but there were rumors in the air about rarely heard words around here. Words like "ice" and "snow".

You know the drill: you wake up early to watch the news crawl across the TV to see if your district has called off school for the day due to icy roads. Usually? My district is the last to declare defeat.
This time? 5:21 am and it is NO SCHOOL! Sceptic that I am, I checked the district's website.
And? NO SCHOOL!
If you are from further north, these next pictures will probably have you rolling on the floor. If you are a reader from Canada, you are probably snorting your morning coffee. The picture above shows footprints on the sidewalk. Almost 1/2 inch deep!
And you'll notice that not even all the grass is covered with snow. But, hey: the ice landed where it was needed and the streets/buses were shut down. SNOW DAY!

We have nothing on our friends in Tulsa who are on their second week off from school. The stores are out of eggs, and I hear the only cheese left at the grocery store is mozzarella. Even Laura would not want to live in a world without cheddar.

I digress. Tomorrow, there is a possibility of icy roads in the morning. In central Texas, ice means the town shuts down. You wouldn't find me complaining about another day off of school.

And I have eggs and cheddar in the house.

Fingers crossed!

Anatomy of a Care Package

2011-01-30T21:03:00.002-06:00

Look what I found on my front porch: a care package from Married Daughter in Pennsylvania (who will soon be relocating to Wisconsin, home of all things cheese.) I can't count how many packages I've sent like this over the years, and it is so nice to be on the receiving end. Married Daughter: you have officially become your mother! (Check the comments later when she sees that one.)
First item: Peeps. This has been a family joke for YEARS. My grandmother/Married Daughter's great grandmother would give us Peeps every Easter. No one ever ate them: we just smiled politely and hid them all over our house for weeks and weeks after Easter. When MD was in college, my sister sent her a HUGE care package of heavily discounted after-Easter Peeps. They stayed in that box for years, until I happened to run across them. They had shrunk up, but even bugs will not eat them apparently...
And an olive branch (albeit a chocolate one) for that Peep humor. (A funny website on cooking Peeps--and there is a plethora of them--can be found here.)
Hmmm. Does this mean my former college roommate is cute and sassy and I am not?

Guess who is getting the Peeps back?

(PS: I wrote a post last week about always calling my (now) adult children at concerts and "sharing" songs with them. I loved the comment Married Daughter left on my post:

yes, i got the phone call from the Mercy Me concert. I was listening to my voicemails on speaker phone while i was cooking and Joe said "what IS that loud noise?" TO which I replied, "oh, mom must have gone to another concert!" :) Hope it was great fun! love you momma)

Changing From the Inside Out

2011-01-29T11:25:00.001-06:00

"I can stay in my box and judge...or I can extend grace and get outside my box - and realize that my box was too small to begin with." (A. Stanley)

There's an App for That...

2011-01-21T18:08:00.002-06:00

I have a little tradition when I go to a concert or musical. I call my (now) adult children when a great song is being performed. I don't talk; I simply hold the phone up until I'm sure they've enjoyed it enough. Or they hang up. Which ever comes first.

I've shared Broadway's "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious", "Mama Mia" and the theme song from "The Lion King". Dialed in Elton John's "Crocodile Rock", Tim McGraw's "Don't Take the Girl" and Faith Hill's "Breathe". I think with the exception of Air Supply's "All Out of Love", they were mostly received with a good attitude. (And may I add here: at a certain age, grown men should stop wearing spandex and leather on stage.)

Well, on Thursday evening I went with several fellow teachers to see "MercyMe" in concert. Their "I Can Only Imagine" has been a best selling Christian song for over a decade. That's a lifetime in musical years. We thoroughly enjoyed the entire evening, and I couldn't help sharing the song with Married Daughter via cell phone. I am sure she will call to thank me soon. Or not.

Concerts of 2011 are a wee bit difference from my teenaged experiences. Remember holding Bic and Zippo lighters for mood? No longer necessary. The Iphone has it covered for you.

My phone, alas, is from prehistoric days and does not download apps. But I can still share music from remote locations.

Young Son and Married Daughter: I'm sure you will be thrilled to hear that Barry Manilow may be in my neck of the woods soon. Stay by your phone. Love, Mom

Why do the call them SLUMBER parties and SLEEP overs when the eyelids never close...

2011-01-17T11:50:00.004-06:00

What could all these decorations possibly mean?
It's M's Second Annual Slumber Party held at my house. (M was in my second grade class 6 years ago, and her mother was fellow teacher/best of friend.)
This met me when I woke up the Morning After for some strong coffee.
This was the scene in the family room. (I learned that teenaged girls are very into Vera Bradley items.)
Never fear: cell phones were kept in a nice safe place and neat row. (And I want a Coach cover for my iPhone. Except I have to get an iPhone first. And some Vera Bradley accessories...)

I had to leave earlier than the sleeping party girls (and M's mom) to get to my duties with Children's Church. But look what I found when I returned:
WOW! It was cleaner than when they got there. I'm looking forward to next year's party when M turns 14 on January 17. Can't wait!

Happy Birthday, Married Daughter!

2011-01-14T10:26:00.002-06:00

1985: This is one of my favorite pictures with you. You were about six months old and your usual happy self. (I apologize for the matching dresses and my bad 80s perm. Hopefully your cuteness detracts from those small details.)

2011: You've become a beautiful young woman and I'm so proud of the life you have created with your precious husband. You have always been a joy to my heart, and now you are more like a best friend than a daughter.

I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living my baby you'll be.

Happy 26th Birthday, sweet girl! You've been a wonderful companion on this road of life. YBBM

...but a shout of joy comes in the morning.

2011-01-13T09:36:00.003-06:00

Today marks 18 months since I lost D. I stare at that number with disbelief, because in some ways it seems like 18 years. And in some ways like 18 seconds.

I used to always wonder about people who marked occasions like that, or who were sad about various anniversaries." Why would they do that?" I wondered. Well, surprise to me: I didn't go looking for the dates; the dates came looking for me. And depending on the amount of time that has passed, those calendar notations can either cut you to your knees or give you the happy memories.

I think I have passed the breaking point where I lean more toward The Happy. I have decided to devote this post to what people can do to help those who are mourning a loved one. Some examples are my own; some were gleaned from my time with fellow pilgrims in our journey through grief class.

When a loved one dies food, cards and good wishes pour into your life. I think the occasion of the funeral brings you together with a group similar to the one you've last seem at your wedding. Except it is not the time of cake cutting and bouquet tossing. Seriously: you have the family, friends from high school, friends from college, friends from past jobs, friends from present jobs, friends from groups and churches you've attended...you get the picture. It is a room full of people who have populated all eras of your life and their attention is laser-beamed on you. It is comforting, but deceptive. They have to go back to their own lives very quickly. (As they should). You have to live with the reality mostly alone. (As you eventually discover you should.)

So, what were the things most helpful in the long and winding road of grief?

Friends who still bring up D in conversation. I think people don't want to make me sad, so they do not mention him. It makes me very happy (even though it may make my eyes leak a little) to know that he is still remembered.
People who mark their calendars to remember the anniversaries with me. My fellow teachers made sure I had a wonderful night out on my first birthday alone, the parents in my classroom gave me beautiful flowers on Valentine's Day and on what would have been D's and my wedding anniversary, and on the one year anniversary of D's death I got about 10 cards acknowledging him, me, and the past year. I loved that, and was touched that July 13th was deemed important by friends.
In the early days, don't say, "Call me if you need something." That would involve having enough brain power to find the phone, your phone number and identifying the need through a fog of grief. Just go do what you know must be needed. I had people checking to see if my outside pipes were covered at the first freeze, offers to cut the lawn until I could find a lawn service, leaves raked while I was away and a case of bottled water left on the front porch. Those may seem small or even trivial. They helped me feel like I was not alone in this world.
One of my friends was going to be alone on the first Thanksgiving after losing her husband. Her neighbor (who would be out of town) brought over a soft, fluffy robe for her. "I want you to wrap yourself up in this robe today and remember that there are people who want to wrap you in love. Every 30 minutes on Thanksgiving, I want you to reach in the pocket and pull out one piece of folded paper and read it out loud." The papers contained encouraging thoughts--all 48 of them.
Ask a grieving person to go anywhere you are going, no matter how piddling it may seem to you. I had a friend say she was passing by on her way to Barnes: would I like to go? (YES!) Another friend ended a meal out together by hesitantly telling me she had to go check on a house out in the country and would I like to ride along? (YES x 2!) We may not have much to say, but there is no journey with company that is not appreciated. Especially when you compare it to staying at home in an empty house.
Ask, ask and keep asking. Mood swings are swift and continual. I may not want to go somewhere with you today or tomorrow, but the next day a field trip with a friend may be just the ticket. Just because your grieving friend turns you down 99 times, that 100th time may be the magic number.
My friends and I often write emails with the subject line: Mundane Musings. We share just mundane moments from the week and find it fascinating reading. There is no factoid too small to share by email, snailmail or Facebook that a grieving friend will not welcome as a touch from the outside world.
I loved magazines that were passed along, devotional books that were purchased for me and helpful articles sent through the mail. The common denominator here? Short. Brief reading for a brief attention span.

And to my real life and bloggy friends: Thank you just for the continuity of your friendship and contact. You kept me tethered to a world that seemed to be spinning out of control at times. Life is manageable now, and I hope to find more and more joy in this journey.

Lightening the Load

2011-01-12T16:23:00.004-06:00

I am at a very interesting juncture in my life. I have spent the past 18 months going through and cleaning out every drawer, closet and corner of my home. Most of it was necessitated because I needed to sort through D's things; most because I was still deciding if I was going to sell the house or stay put.

During this time, I've had the entire interior and exterior of my home redone. Every window and door is new. Every wall and baseboard is newly repainted. Out-of-date bathrooms are remodeled, and "popcorn" ceilings have been scraped and refinished. Fans and light fixtures are updated. I've installed seemingly new "everythings" down to the light switch plates and doorknobs.

My closets, drawers and shelves are mostly empty. There is really not one square inch of the house that has not been updated or organized. How often can we come to that place in life? I have two things to say about that:

1. I cannot believe that I had the emotional energy to complete or contract out these jobs in my initial stages of grief.

and

2. I am loving the freedom of not having all the "stuff", and I do not intend to go back to my old cluttery ways.

Seriously. On my antique field trip last week, I determined that I would not buy anything that would need to be refinished, repainted or reupholstered. I am done with all of the Some Day Projects. DONE!

I want to luxuriate a the totally project-free life. I hear my inner voice tell me on shopping trips, "If you take that home, you have to find a place for it and you have to care for it." And then I return it to the store's shelf.

People: I am a woman who had a Mary Englebreit collection with assorted items that numbered in the thousands. I am not making that number up. And I am hoping they earned Goodwill a lot of money after I donated them.

I feel free to do things I want to do, because I am no longer held prisoner by items that need to be taken care of. Yesterday on the way home from school I stopped for a movie at a theater that serves great pizza without a lick of guilt. Because I was all caught up with chores at home. On a Tuesday.

I'm kind of heady with the freedom of it all. And I can't wait to see what God would have me do with the free time and energy.

Just call me Mary. Because Martha has left the building.

On the Road Again

2011-01-08T18:00:00.004-06:00

The new session of Grief Class started Thursday night. This time I am not a member (as I had been for two sessions) or a facilitator (as I was for the last session). I was only a "Sign these new people in and get them started on their healing... Stat!" helper.

But an interesting thing happened as I worked the registration table. A man who had been in my original class walked up and handed me a slightly late (yet very welcome) Christmas card. "Turn it over!" he prompted with a lot of enthusiasm. And when I did, I saw these words: "Merry Christmas and Save the Date!" Seems grief friend is getting married in a few months. I congratulated him and asked him if his adult-children were on board with this idea. "They are getting used to it," he answered honestly, "because they want me to be happy."

Of course, everyone wants us to be happy after the loss of our loved ones. They've walked us through the valley of the shadow, and they'd love for this chapter of our lives to be closed.

I followed a wildly popular blog for a while, as seemingly the entire northern hemisphere was praying for, supporting and encouraging a mom through her child's illness. Child was miraculously healed, but a startling thing happened: mom could not seem to let go of her platform and return to normal life. I eventually quit reading the posts as her now-healthy child was pushed aside for newly manufactured dramas.

I assure you: I want to be totally healed, whole and moved on as soon as possible. And God is in the business of hearing and answering those kinds of prayers.

The bit I am working through right now does have to do with companionship. I have lots of friends, but they have families and responsibilities. I get that. So the days of spontaneity and spur of the moment ideas have their limitations.

That and some of the wildly random things that I want to do occasionally. If I would have told D I wanted to go to a Bach harpsichord concert, followed by author Fannie Flagg's book signing, and then lunch at a new pancake restaurant? He'd have been starting the car. Because, he would have known when he said one day that he wanted to go to a lecture on the use of quartersawn oak held at a furniture museum, followed by lunch at a vegetarian diner, then a quirky movie at the university's indie theater, I'd have been his enthusiastic partner. (And yes, these are real examples.) Those little field trips are a little much to ask of a friend, no?

Today, I just decided to jump in the car and pursue some things I've been wanting to do that would probably not interest anyone else in a three county area. I wanted to drive through a series of very small towns and explore their antique shops (ending at one that has heavily advertised its beautiful mission furniture on Craigslist) and find some good barbeque.

And guess what? I had a wonderful time. All by myself. I've always enjoyed long drives alone, aimless wandering through small towns and looking at antiques. Somewhere today in the quietness of a "praying without ceasing" afternoon, I realized it is okay to embrace this adult singleness/childlessness that gives me freedom I have not experienced before. And that I can do it without feeling sad or guilty.

This is what my life is now. I didn't cause it, I can't change it, but I can certainly learn to enjoy it to the fullest.

As evidenced by the beautiful oak bed table and barbeque chicken I brought home tonight.

"Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness.

Delight yourself in the Lord; and He will give you the desires of your heart.

Commit your way to the Lord, trust also in Him and He will do it."

Psalm 137:3-5

Get Thee Behind Me, Cipro

2011-01-02T13:48:00.004-06:00

I promise this will be my last post on the thrilling subject of my antibiotic, because I know you are sick to death of hearing about it. Sick. To. Death. And I feel the same way on writing about it. But since my last post? I've been sleeping about 20 hours out of 24 each day, and even missed New Year's Eve with Loyal Sister because I was, well, asleep.

The only problem I had when I originally went to the doctor was a reoccurring sinus headache. After medication, I seemed to have the problem of chronic sleep. Drastic times call for drastic measures. Last night I simply quit taking the twice-a-day antibiotic. And guess what? Today I am full of life, energy and have had no desire for repeated four-hour naps. Cipro: you are not my friend, and you are no longer welcome in my home or bloodstream.

I was able to stay awake long enough yesterday to finish my classroom's library and grab materials to make lesson plans for this week. (And just how thrilled are my seven year old friends going to be to find out that we will be introducing multiplication and division first rattle out of the bag on Tuesday? THRILLED!)

Today? A new year; a new journey. I've taken a part-time position to help lead a children's ministry in a nearby church. I said good-bye to my former church of 15 years. Those precious people have walked a LOT of miles with me. But I know in my heart and spirit that this was the right move. Going to my new church today just felt like entering another door. I was amazed at how many people I knew in the congregation already (and how many of the now adults I'd taught as children over the years!) Sometimes we can over analyze and over agonize new decisions. And sometimes? We can just step into a new role totally sure it is the right decision. And not only be at peace with it, but be filled with joy at the wonder and potential.

2011, I welcome you and all the new that you have to offer me. Amen.

Did This Cipro Work on Anthrax?

2010-12-30T23:03:00.006-06:00

I had great faith in those antibiotics I began taking yesterday. This morning, I followed the Rx's instructions and skipped the caffeine. The day went downhill from there.

I guess I thought I was fine, fine, everything is fine! and decided to drop by my classroom to take care of pressing business. Like re-organizing the classroom library before school starts on Tuesday. Oh, the fun! of returning to the land of second grade. Until the Tylenol wore off, and I found myself laying on the carpet and staring at the ceiling wondering if I could just put all the books in a large basket, and call it a day.

I went home to collapse on the couch and napped while watching daytime t.v. for the first time in years or decades. (I have several observations about that: I recognized characters from General Hospital, and I have not watched it since 1985. Every new show on Oprah's new network is her Favorite! New! Show! Some of Dr. Oz's topics border on creepy. And Nate Berkus seems happily sincere, but unable to carry an entire show.) I fell into a deeper sleep until news was over, and decided I'd better eat or drink something. I drank a large glass of orange juice and belatedly looked to see if it was on the "foods to avoid" with my antibiotics after the fact. Sure enough: calcium enriched o.j. is not on the approved list. Neither is chocolate. I do not want to live in a world without chocolate, so antibiotic: KICK IN. Or else.

Or else I'll be watching a lot of bad daytime TV and I do not (I repeat loudly: DO NOT) intend watching to find out if Snookie is really in that ball over Times Square (like a hamster) on New Year's Eve. Maybe I just hallucinated that odd story in my antibiotic haze. Or maybe Nate Berkus should invite her onto his show to jazz it up a bit.

I also need to get well quickly because I have a date for New Year's Eve. (Settle down, out there: it is at Loyal Sister's house where she is serving king crab legs and our yet unseen "Toy Stories 3" DVD. Living large, but avoiding caffeine and chocolate.)

Anyhoo, four days until seven year-olds return to the classroom. I must be well and able to ingest large amounts of caffeine by then. And get Junie B. Jones, Cam Jansen, and Lilly and her purple plastic purse back on the library shelves.

Take Two and Call Me in the Morning

2010-12-29T20:12:00.002-06:00

I had a slight headache for the past week. I've been able to keep it under submission with Tylenol, Clariton D and copious amounts of caffeine. During this crazy-busy time of year, it's easy to explain away sickness as too much activity, too much rich food and too little sleep. Or all of the above.

But when I woke up this morning with a pounding head - again - I mentally counted the days until back-to-school: four. For some reason, that commercial featuring a teacher with a sinus headache flashed through my mind. Do you know the one? The teacher has pounding sinuses, is doing effleurage on her forehead, when a small child across the classroom pulls out Sharp Scissors. In slow-motion, she covers the distance to prevent the kiddy equivalent of hari-kari. I think she even leaps over a few desks. And all because of two brand name aspirin. Which were not cutting it for me.

So, this afternoon found me plodding back to the doctor's office that can see me without an appointment. I guess the office staff does not read blogs like this one, because I was allowed to sign in. And I was seen in a relatively short time. It was "only" a sinus infection, so I was only given two prescriptions this time but, alas, no magic shots.

The antibiotic of choice was Ciprofloxacin. You may remember it as Cipro during the anthrax scare. The good news? There is no shortage of it right now. The bad news? The instructions plainly state I should not "ingest large amounts of caffeine." Drat. The drugs or the caffeine?

Is there a door number 3?

Texted Married Daughter on the way home because I still feel the need to let someone know when I'm sick. Even if they live 1,321 miles away. Give or take. And then I took my meds and crawled under the blankets.

The good news? My Christmas trip to New York was cancelled when family came to my home instead. I could be blogging with a sinus headache right now while trapped at LaGuardia Airport.

The better news? I think I'll have this sinus snafu healed by the time I return to the Land of Second Grade. Home of permanent markers, sharp scissors, squeezable glue and potential critters lulled inside by leftover Holiday Party crumbs.

I don't claim the ability to leap over desks. Even on my best days. But I do know there is a party going on in my head while looking forward to going back to my 18 seven-year old best friends and their Yuletide Tales. Can't wait!

The Return Trip of Over the River and Through the Woods...

2010-12-27T10:53:00.003-06:00

Yesterday, I sent Married Daughter and Loyal Son-in-law off at dawn for their 30-hour drive back to Pennsylvania. They wanted to beat the much trumpeted blizzard heading that way.

I went to church, took a delicious nap, and looked around at all the cleaning that needed to be done.

And I walked out of the house and went to a movie. There are a few pluses to living alone. (And PS: the mess was still there when I returned and the earth did not shift on its axis.)

While I was gone I got a call from a precious teacher friend to go out for hot chocolate. We closed Starbucks down with our then-cold chocolate, and talked in the cold car until we could no longer feel our hands and feet. We're caught up, and a good time was had by all.

I spent the night sleeping and listening for update texts from the cross-country travelers. I'm writing this 29 hours after they left my driveway, and just got the message they are an hour from home with no road problems.

Thoughts? Thank you, Lord and oh! to be that young that you can drive 30 hours without stopping! ( I put in many years of 24-hour road trips to Chicago to see relatives in my 20s. I know that it takes about a year to forget the drive, and sign back up to do it again the next holiday.)

Plans for today? Still in my jammies. Totally completed the crossword puzzle. Preparing to go find the shovel to clean out the living room from the debris of Christmas. And loving the thought of one week off to do whatever I want. Oh, teaching profession, you are so good to me.

And my own Christmas miracle? Surrounded by friends and family in my home, I did not feel sad. Not even one time. The memories of D are becoming the Happy Ones, and I am so very grateful for that.

Looking forward to the New Year.

Merry Christmas 2010 from the O/C/S Family!

2010-12-24T11:33:00.006-06:00

If you got a hard copy of my annual Christmas picture/letter through snail mail, move along. Nothing for you here today. I'm posting the pictures/letter here for my Merry Christmas wish to each of you.

I would say the word that best describes this year for each of us is "Milestones". We have all had some significant accomplishments and changes in our lives.
K (Married Daughter) and J celebrated their third wedding anniversary in November. They moved to Pennsylvania in March due to J's promotion. He is leading a team of engineers to design and complete a new factory. They brought a darling townhouse and learned to deal with large amounts of snow. (This picture was taken on our visit to Hersheyland in Hershey, Pennsylvania, the land of chocolate kisses.) Their dog, Tex is two years old.
H (D's oldest daughter) will graduated this May from Brite Divinity School at TCU in Fort Worth, where she received the Episcopal Studies Program Book Award for last year. She in a on-call Chaplain at Baylor All Saints Medical Center, and was approved by her Diocese as a Postulate to Holy Orders (her first step of three on the path to her ordination.) This summer she attended Gatecon in Vancouver and spent time camping in British Columbia. She is dating DB.
C (Young Son) graduated from Texas State University. His take on the year was: "Traveled to the northeast, saw family, visited Chicago, Indiana, New York, Pennsylvania, New York, Boston and Maine. Worked and saved for a bike tour and rode over 1,000 miles to Flagstaff. Pedicabbed for the Ranger's World Series, UT and Dallas Cowboy football games. Work at Flipnotics (a local Austin coffee house), looking for a professional job. Want to teach abroad in Southeast Asia and South America and WOOF (work on organic farms for a free living work trade in various countries.) Reading writing, hosting couch surfers from all over the world at least once a month." He and J have been dating for two years.
E (D's youngest daughter) and M became engaged in July and will be married next fall. THey live in Seattle and E is completing her education as a veterinary technician at PIMA. M is finishing his Political Science degree at the University of Washington. He will graduate in June, and is applying for government jobs on the east coast. After graduation, they hope to relocate to the Washington D.C. area.

R (that's me!) moved up with her first grade class to second grade, and loves having the same students and parents two years in a row. She traveled to New York in the spring as a chaperone for a choir tour of high school students who were in her kindergarten class many years ago! She visited Ireland with a dear friend last summer, and stayed with K and J at their new home in Pennsylvania. She and K took a trip to Seattle to see E and M. She helped facilitate a Grief Share group at a local church and will begin directing a Children's Church ministry in January. Those activities and a remodel of her home have kept her very busy this year!

We miss D, but we continue to honor his memory by moving on with lives full of love and purpose.

"The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. Those who lived in a dark land, the light will shine on them" Isaiah 9:2

The Merriest of Christmases to you and yours. May the New Year bring untold blessings upon all of you.

It Takes a Long Time to Grow An Old Friend...

2010-12-23T19:43:00.004-06:00

If you have read this blog for any amount of time, you know that I love teaching. But I will have to admit, I also love the two weeks off at Christmas that allow me to spend time with lots and lots of friends I don't get to see as often as I like during teaching season.

Yesterday, Married Daughter and I drove north to meet some of our oldest friends. P (far left) and I (far right) are playing bookends to much of what we have accomplished over the past 25 years. We met as young mothers when we only had one toddler each. Since then, we have amassed 7 (now adult) children (and 3 in-law children) among us. The picture then tips toward her side because she now has 2 grandchildren ages (almost) 4 years old and 6 weeks. (No rush K & C, but we do need to do our share here eventually...)

We met at a Mexican food restaurant for chips, salsa and queso (because that's how we socialize in Texas), and continued the conversations at Starbucks. I am so very grateful for my friend, P. We've walked through a lot of life together, and I've been thankful every step of the way to have her near my side. Having her now-adult children as my friends, too? Icing. Just icing.

(An aside: My daughter asked me why all the children of the clan ended up as good friends. I told her she probably wouldn't want to hear my answer, but she assured me she did. It is because (lean in here, people, because I'm whispering): These children of ours? They have grown up to be an awful lot like us. And somehow? That revelation did not horrify her as it would have during teen aged years. She smiled, took it in calmly, and agreed. Oh, life: you are one perfect full circle at times.)

Today? Another small trip north to a breakfast meeting among high school friends I've know for over 35 years. There is nothing better in the world than someone who carries the stories of your life with them. I am blessed beyond compare looking at these smiling faces around me. I know that I have done nothing to deserve such wonderful companions on this road of life. This circle that has surrounded me is just a grace gift from the hand of God. (We missed you, Pat!)

We hogged a table for far too long, and caught up on life. (And I may have mentioned a time or a million that A (left front)'s son and my daughter are MARRIED. It still gives me such joy to say/type/IM/text and remind people continually of that fact.)

After a great visit, we may or may not have shopped at Cracker Barrel's gift shop (NO CLOTHES PURCHASES, however, so don't you be thinking we are Memaws...) and made plans for a future get together. Thank you friends for finding time among family plans for a visit.

Loyal Sister and I spent the rest of the afternoon perusing antique stores and generally having a wonderful time. I ran into someone who recognized me from this blog, and I got to visit with her and her sweet daughter. What a blessing that the world is so full of every type of friend.

Something I am not friends with on December 25th?
That's just wrong.

But, let's end on a positive note: I hope your holidays are being spent with lots and lots of family and friends. Take the time to appreciate what you have, because this life can be far too short.

Merry Christmas, bloggy friends.

The Evolution of Family Photographs

2010-12-21T09:55:00.003-06:00

We had one of our family Christmases yesterday. Young Son is accompanying his girlfriend to Mississippi for the holidays, so we grabbed the only window available when all the kids could be in the same room.

L to R: Girlfriend, Young Son, Happy Mom, Married Daughter and Loyal Son-in-Law (who look amazingly fresh after driving to central Texas from Pennsylvania.)

We ate, we opened presents and we set the A/C to "cold" so we could don Christmas apparel without losing consciousness in the Texas heat. And then? We took family pictures.

When the kids were babies, it was easy to snap random shots at will. Toddler shots were a guessing game of who was responsible for the lyrics for "you better not pout, you better not cry" in the famous Christmas song. I think it was my children. Early elementary pictures showed daughter under the table at birthday party cake shots. I don't think she like the attention focused on her. (This did not present a problem when she cut her wedding cake. Thankfully, that tendency was outgrown.) Many teen aged photographs showed a yearly array of happy hearted shots and/or straight lipped pictures. It was a yearly lottery of successes or failures.

But now? Take heart, parents of young children. My now-adult children will all pose and smile when asked. A miracle 26 years in the making. (Thank you J, C, K and J! I love having these memories captured for future viewing.)
And how could we leave out Loyal Sister and Brother-in-Law? A good time was had by all.
And I leave you with a shot documenting the difference between girls and boys. The ornament to the left was given to me by a female student. It is a delicate blown-glass, glittery angel. The ornament on the right was given to me by a male student. It is an alien elf, impressive for its attention to detail on both sides. (And they fill me with The Happy each time I pass the tree.)

On to more celebrating. Hohoho.

The One That is the 300th Post

2010-12-20T09:33:00.007-06:00

I have a special window where I write this blog that you cannot see. Blogger calls it a "Dashboard". It includes oh-so-many useful gadgets, including a counter that numbers my posts. I'd noticed that my 300th piece was coming up, and I wondered where I'd be in my heart and mind when I wrote it. This blog has served as therapy for me through some difficult times. I still marvel that people read it regularly, and am blessed by the friends that I have made through this cyber portal.

Well, blog post 300 finds me creeping quietly around my light-draped home (thanks, KM for your decorating services) because MARRIED DAUGHTER AND LOYAL SON-IN-LAW FINISHED THE DRIVE TO TEXAS FROM PENNSYLVANIA and they are sleeping in MD's childhood bedroom. Tonight Young Son and his girlfriend will join us for an early Christmas dinner, as he leaves for Mississippi with her family tomorrow.

I had to brave the HEB yesterday (our local grocery) for copious amounts of foodstuff. (Is that a word? It seems to fit the list Married Daughter requested of childhood foods such as sausage balls, blintzes, Russian Teacakes and iced brownies that are a staple of our holidays, but probably contain no real nutritional value.) I digress.

While I was there, I stayed jolly despite loud Michael Jackson Christmas music circa 1970 (the high-yet-teetering-on-screeching voice in "Santa Claus is Coming to Town") and traffic jams on every aisle. The store was not crowded: there were just many shoppers in a hurry to rush home with their treasures. (I am full of the song references today.) They paid no attention to their carts blocking the aisles. I thought a lot of D, who had to use the electric cart when we shopped. He maintained that there should be a stripe down the center of each aisle to keep shoppers aware of their baskets. Because he believed that an ordered world was possible.

An engineer in every area of his life, his workshop tools were hung in order by size, his bath towels draped in neat rows, and his shoes perfectly lined up in the closet. I am organized but not very orderly. I must have driven him crazy sometimes/many times with my random tendencies.

He'd lay out everything he needed for his shower before he went in, including 3 Q-tips in a perfect parallel row. Sometimes just to mess with him, I'd add a few more crooked Q-tips while he was in the shower. I'd watch out the corner of my eye from my side of the sink. I wanted to see how he'd react to that little anarchy toward neatness. It would take him a moment to figure it out, and then he'd look at me and we'd both laugh. I miss those moments the most.

Oh, those moments.

One of his biggest pet peeves were waiters who said "no problem" when asked for something. He'd always maintain that he was a customer and not a problem; and what ever happened to "yes, sir" or "you're welcome"?

When we saw erratic drivers on the road, he'd always comment that it "must be a woman driver". When we'd pass the car and glance over, he was right 99.9999% of the time. Drat.

He just wanted order in his crazy world of cancer, I think. I have discovered in working with seven-year olds that I cannot have a perfect world. My existence in the classroom is more about the process than the product, where we work with sharp scissors and rivers of Elmer's glue.

So, on this 300th post I want to share a dream I had about D the other night. This is significant because I sleep very, very soundly and rarely remember dreams. To the point where I've wondered if I even have them at all.

He was sitting on the edge of our bed in the way that my bedroom is newly arranged. On his side of the bed by the wall was this perfectly arranged row of neat drawers and containers. He looked at me with total happiness and said, "I have everything just the way I want it now." And with everything that is in me I believe that he does. No more cancer; no more living in this imperfect world. I woke up feeling very happy and settled in my spirit for him. And maybe even a little envious.

And now, on to Christmas with bits and pieces of my family and friends in combinations that are different than usual. I've decided that life is not about stability and keeping everything the same: it's about having the ability to accept change gracefully.

Christmas this year? Anything but orderly. But always full of joy and love.

Oh, the Weather Outside is...

2010-12-18T23:53:00.003-06:00

I have a small confession to make, on my way back to a normal life: I just turned on the heat in my home for the first time this winter. And only because company is coming. You see, I just can't see warming a four bedroom house just for little ol' me when I have afghans, electric throws and all manner of flannel jammies for the few hours I am home each evening. In my defense, I live in central Texas where it rarely gets very cold, and my new energy efficient windows (coupled with the new attic insulation) keep the house pretty comfortable. I guess I've become used to dressing in layers, but I had a friend drop by today who noticed the pervasive coolness of the house. So, I changed the HVAC filter (I am handy like that) and cranked the unit up.

And while I'm on a roll, I will admit that I did a cooking marathon that involved turning the oven on as well. Cooking, using the oven, turning the heat on...what can this mean?

Married daughter and her husband are on the way here from Pennsylvania for Christmas!

The original plan had been for me to go see them. I'd bought my tickets and planned to ignore Christmas decorations in my home for one more year. There is some illness on my son-in-law's side of the family that caused them to need to come here for the holidays.

Screeching turn in plans, so I decided to rip off the bandaid and embrace the decorating, the cooking, the traditions. And apparently the heater. And oven.

And guess what? I'm loving it! I have more energy than I've had since July 2009, and I'm really excited about this holiday season in my home. Could it be that this unexpected change in plans was really a Higher Plan all along? One that would force me to open my home to guests and the holiday? I'm thinking yes.

It is time to resume my former place at the front door, throw it open and declare, "Let the celebration begin!" like I have in former years. With a big smile on my face.

Tribute to a Teacher

2010-12-18T08:15:00.002-06:00

I generally have my digital camera near by at all times while I'm at school. Teaching is very blog-worthy. Our last day before the Christmas holidays was on Thursday, and through the craziness of end-of-day release (which was ramped up that day by sweet treats, excited good-byes and oh-the-freedom of two weeks off!), I glanced back and saw a dear friend and colleague at the end of her last day of teaching. Ever.

Mrs. B has taught on our campus for 22 years in several different grades. She is one of the most positive and professional teachers I have ever met. Each time I talk with her I carry away encouragement and/or a new teaching strategy. Her love for instruction and patience with children is inspiring, and her mind is continually set on her classroom and how she can improve it. It boggles the mind to think of how many children's lives she has touched, and what a difference she has made in their futures.

She decided to retire this year at mid-term, and while I am wildly excited for her decision, it is a loss for our entire campus to lose one of the finest teachers imaginable. I wish that we could somehow transfer all the educational knowledge she has collected and place it in the brains and hearts of all the new, incoming teachers.

My husband had a plaque in his office that said, "The life so short, the craft so long to learn." I know that Mrs. B mastered the craft of teaching, and we were all changed as a result of her dedication and everyday excellence.

Thanks for your love for our children, Mrs. B. Godspeed in your next new adventure.

One of the Many Reasons I Love Teaching Children

2010-12-14T16:06:00.001-06:00

Putting all that knowledge together can often make for an entertaining Christmas card for Mom and Dad...

Making Lemonaid

2010-12-13T21:01:00.002-06:00

Three months ago I wrote a post about a flood in my neighborhood found here. A block full of people lost virtually everything in their homes, and the repairs brought the houses down to bare studs. The bad news was, since it was in a 500-year flood plain, none of the homes had flood insurance. The worse news came when the national government did not declare it a disaster area for unknown reasons. Those poor people still have dumpsters in their yards and PODS on their driveways containing the precious few possessions that were salvageable.

Driving home yesterday, I spied some new Christmas decorations covering the POD, dumpster and RV of some homeowners working to get back into their homes. I'll have to give it to these people for their holiday spirit, and for making the most of a difficult situation. May they find themselves back in their homes soon, and may they have a Merry (little) Christmas.

Thanks to a Christmas Angel, The Tree is Up

2010-12-11T08:05:00.001-06:00

Guest blogger: The Grinch

Welcome, Christmas, bring your cheer.
Cheer to all Whos far and near.
Christmas Day is in our grasp
so long as we have hands to clasp.
Christmas Day will always be
Just as long as we have we.
Welcome, Christmas, while we stand
Heart to heart,... and hand in hand.

Checking that Tree, Fluffing it Twice...

2010-12-08T22:02:00.006-06:00

So, to continue an incredibly long and uninteresting story about my inability to put together my own Christmas tree this year...

Santa's Little Helper is coming tomorrow night to assemble my tree for me. And maybe spread some more Christmas magic around the house. I will walk into my home after dinner out with a friend and VIOLA! instant Christmas. Right?

Well, first I had to haul all my holiday tubs into the den for SLH to use tomorrow. And, then I may have dug through a cheery red tub or seven. Big Mistake. I ended up blubbering on the phone with Married Daughter, because I was considering taking all the tubs straight to Goodwill and pushing them to the curb. Married Daughter asked me to wait until she could look through the items I didn't want anymore. (All. Of. It.) She said she might take some back to Pennsylvania with her after Christmas. (Secretly? I think she knows I may regret the Christmas Purge of 2010 and is going to hide the red and green tubs in the attic until I come to my senses.) (Or maybe she really does want that Precious Moments nativity set circa 1980.)

Continuing on, I kept eyeing and circling the Christmas tree box. Why, oh WHY, does that box upset me so much this holiday season?

And then I remembered.

I was always the appointed tree-put-er-upper in our house. But, during D's last Christmas I developed walking pneumonia and he volunteered to put the tree up. When I awoke from a three-hour nap, he had just finished fluffing every single branch. "I don't think these branches have been fluffed in years!" he commented. (Wrong. They had NEVER been fluffed.That was up to me and I am not a fluffer.) D, ever the engineer, also noted that the different lettered branches were not sorted out together in the box. In Mars, they apparently sort fake Christmas tree branches for fun. Who knew?

I also remembered that year was also the only time D also took the tree down. Loyal Sister and I had flown up to see Married Daughter, and we were taking a side trip to Branson, so D did tree take-down duty for me, too. Call me crazy, but something about knowing D was the last one to have been inside that box makes it very difficult for me to open it.

I finally plucked up the chutzpah tonight to open the box and peek inside. And? I immediately burst into laughter. You see, D had taken zip lines and bound all the same sized branches together for easy assembly. And then laid them in neat order inside the box.

Thinking about me until the end.

When I put the tree away this year, maybe I will sort and organize the branches so they'll be ready for Christmas next year.

You know: the year that will be easier than this year.

O Christmas Tree...Assemble Yourself

2010-12-07T21:41:00.003-06:00

The plan for last Christmas, my first one without D, was to (A) leave town and (B) not decorate. At all.

The plan for this Christmas was amazingly the same. In fact, identically the same.

Until circumstances stepped in and I will no longer be visiting Married Daughter and Young Son-In-Law in Pennsylvania after all. They will be coming here!

Except that means putting up my tree. Yea for everything except for the tree. Drat on the tree.

I finally hauled the artificial tree's box home into the living room. It sat there for a week, and I gave it a swift kick every time I passed it. But, amazingly, it did not set itself up. I've tried, goodness knows: I'VE TRIED to put that tree up, but it is a no go. How can I be emotionally attached to a box full of artificial branches?

I finally hired a 20 something sweet friend to put up and decorate the tree. The plan is she will come while I'm away, set up the tree, and I will enter a house that is tree-filled. Done. But not by me.

Baby steps back to that place called "Normal" during the holidays.

A Long Winter's Nap

2010-12-06T21:00:00.005-06:00

Among my friends, I am known as someone who is "(very) early to bed and (very) early to rise". I wake up without the alarm at 5 am each day, and go to bed hours before my peers, apparently. The other night I was talking to a friend at 9:30 pm. Her husband happened by and asked who she was talking to. When he learned it was me, he questioned, "WHAT is SHE doing up SO late?"

Anywhooo, I planned to take a personal day today because I have so many things I needed to take care of on weekdays between the hours of 8am-5pm. Which, coincidentally, are the same hours that I teach. So, I intended to make my customary predawn leap out of bed and totally eliminate the long to-do list on the kitchen counter. Maybe even have time left for a Starbucks run.

Good plan, except I ended up sleeping until noon today. NOON. May I type it again? NOON!!! Hear that loud thumping noise? I am fairly sure that my friends and adult children are falling over backwards throughout the nation.

I have not slept that late since the mid-1970s when I returned from a six-week European study abroad trip. When I am pretty sure I did not sleep a total of twelve hours. Total. You know: places to go, things to do, sixteen year-old European boys to meet. But WHY in the world would I sleep so long on my To-Do Day Off?

I can think of two possible reasons. One involves the five words that any teacher hates to hear on the Nightly News: "a new strain of flu". Symptoms? Sleepy, achy, dry coughing, runny nose and did I mention sleepy? Could that be me?

Or could it be The Other Reason, that involves oh-the-festive weekend I had? Friday night I helped host a table at my church's annual Christmas Women's Dinner. My co-host (and former fellow teacher) spent the night at my house because we also had a table at the annual Christmas Women's Brunch the next morning. And we may or may not have stayed up most of the night talking and catching up. The afternoon was spent getting the Christmas letter/cards out. The evening was spent with my date, Loyal Sister, at my grief class leadership dinner. (Oh, I live the fast life.) We later went to the Christmas Stroll on the Square in the quaint little town where the dinner was held, and arrived home pretty late. Sunday? Church, Sunday School, house cleaning and Family Group Christmas Dinner. Yes, rereading that list makes me understand why I may have been a wee bit tired today. Lots of fun things to do+ lots of energy expended + little sleep. Equation for The Tired today.

But guess what? With only half the time I expected to have, I totally finished the To-Do list. Woo Hoo!

I'm ending with pictures from my church's annual Women's Dinner/Brunch. We host a table for seven other women, decorating with our best Christmas finery. There are carols, fancy food, a great speaker, door prizes and fun. The event has grown so large, we have to hold it twice in one weekend to accommodate all the ladies who want to attend. Hope you enjoy the table settings. (Not sure why they lined up center/left, but you can click on the photos to enlarge them.)

A Friend is a Stranger You Haven't Met

2010-12-04T15:15:00.005-06:00

This Christmas season is harder than I ever imagined anything could be. The Novocaine of Early Grief has worn off, and things Merry and Jolly are blunt force objects. Every time I feel a subject for a post rising up in my mind, it sounds like a long and annoying whine. I have considered suspending this blog, even though the processing it has granted me has been extremely therapeutic. I just don't want to be an assault on the hearts and minds of others.

As I've been mulling that thought over for the past week, I've also prepared to be a hostess at a women's Christmas brunch this weekend at my church. (Overextended much?) The guest speaker was a sculptor who shared with unflinching and unapologetic honesty about her struggle with walking out the Christian life. When she finished her talk I made a mental note that keeping it real is not a bad thing after all. As that thought was beginning to head downward from my head to my heart, a lady tapped me on the shoulder. "You're R! I wanted to come meet you. I read your blog and I can't tell you how much it has helped me. You write things that I wish I could write. It is like you say it for me."

I was momentarily speechless. Hard for you to believe if you are a real life, not virtual, friend 'o mine. But I recovered enough to hug her and ask her how she found my blog. She mentioned a mutual friend who blogs here. This blogger is the very friend who inspired me to start posting; she's also the parent of a former student. (One of the best fishing holes for great and lifelong friends.)

So, shout out to Susan. Thanks for taking the time for a few kind and casual words to a stranger. You've encouraged me to continue on. And reminded me that it is OK to be real, even if the subject is not always jolly.

Not So Black Friday

2010-11-26T08:25:00.002-06:00

Sorry about the last blog, where I should have invited you to have a little cheese with that whine. (Or as my second graders would say, "Why don't you call the waaaaaaambulance?") The codeine in my cough medicine made the filter on my publish-button pushing finger a little too hasty.

So, here is a view from my happy chair this morning. A cold front blew through central Texas during the Thanksgiving festivities yesterday, and the 85 degree weather plummeted to near freezing. (It is no surprise we deal with upper respiratory conditions in my neck of the woods, no?) I cancelled my early morning shopping trip with my favorite shopping buddies to continue to let the antibiotics do their magic. I'll catch up with them for a late lunch at their Memaw and Pawpaw's house, amidst a multitude of their (I am told) crazy relatives.

A day of rest. I am thankful.

Giving Thanks for the Z Pack and Codeine Infused Chaser

2010-11-24T15:08:00.003-06:00

Thanksgiving Holiday. Five days planned to the hilt to include family, food and fun. And shopping. Except I find myself in the waiting room of my arch-nemesis family doctor. More on that little description later.

For the past few days I'd been feeling a little achy; a little warm. Oh, the many things we can write those symptoms off to: Lots of activity in the second grade classroom. Abnormally hot central Texas weather. A long to-do list. But last night, as I lay on the couch with the air conditioning on, watching a much too long version of the Dancing With the Stars finale (Come on people! The show was TWO hours for a 10 second announcement…), I realized this malaise might be a little more than tiredness.

Upon waking today, I was achy from my forehead to the bottom of my feet. Drat. This I have learned in the twenty-two years that I have spent in the incubator known as a classroom: any germ that can break my built-up immunity is particularly fierce.

So, here I wait, writing this on Word, because the doctor's office will not share their wireless code. Why am I so snarky about this place? (Besides the fact that I feel like a puddle of aches and fever…) Well, here is a little of my history with this office:

They buy all manner of expensive machines, and constantly find/manufacture reasons to use them. To pay for them, I assume. I know if I say my chest hurts or feels full, they will want to perform a lung x-ray on their in-house machine. That's a little extreme, in my mind. This is not the ER. I have also learned I can say "no" to this procedure.
When my then high-school aged daughter came in for a simple college physical, they kept her here for three hours running every test known to man. Or woman, as it were. Some of which should not have been done on an 18 year-old female with no prior experience to such procedures. I have since taught her the power of "no" in a doctor's office.
When my husband had the CT scan that revealed his brain tumor, we were sent through this office for the results. The way the doctor revealed the news was to face the wall and say, "You have a brain tumor. It is very bad. My nurse will set you up with a brain surgeon." He left immediately, and said nurse burst into tears. I'm not sure if it was because she was sorry for us or embarrassed to be working with a man with such poor "bedside" manners. Probably both.

Oh, I could continue because I have a 15-year war chest of these stories. I see in the local paper that this office has a continual turnover in doctors and nurses. I also see there are many, many investigations by the state boards brought on by patient complaints. I was not surprised at all when I called for an appointment to hear that the office now also has a Weight Loss Clinic included in its name.

Why, you ask, do I continue to come here? Because they can always fit me in. I figure patient complaints are between the state, the doctor and God. As a teacher who is around small children, speed in antibiotics is of the essence. I also only come in about once a year when new strains of germs pass my Super Teacher Firewall of Immunity. And I never think about seeking out a new doctor on my once-a-year visits until I am Really Sick.

So, here I sit. Awaiting the results of a swab stuck up my nostrils into my brain. And for extra fun the nurse twisted it. Kind of a lower lobotomy. I'll do anything if it produces the Rx for antibiotics that will kick these aches out of my body.

The results? Not flu, but a bad upper respiratory infection. Given two shots, two prescriptions and an inhaler, with a reminder to schedule a come-back visit in a week for another check. I decline on the double dip of insurance funded visits. I'll be back in the land of the classroom by that time. (I will have to give them props for no chest x-ray today. Maybe they sold the machine.)

Monday? I'm totally shopping for a new doctor's office. That sees patients same-day. Fingers crossed.

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all.

What a Difference a Year Makes

2010-11-14T19:52:00.004-06:00

In my second grade classroom, the students love when I read "circle" books. You know: books that end like they begin, with everything tied into a nice neat bow. Like the book that begins when you give a mouse a cookie. At the end? He is going to get another cookie. A full circle in life.

This weekend included a full circle experience for me. Exactly a year ago, I attended a seminar put on by my grief class on surviving the holidays after the loss of a loved one. I just reread the blog I posted about it (found here). Because, guess what I did this weekend? I attended the same seminar on surviving the holidays. Except this year I was a facilitator.

What is the difference between being an attendee and a facilitator? Well, this year I listened instead of talked. I handed out the Kleenex instead of using it. I patted and hugged. And I gave out the most precious commodity of all: hope.

Hope that the pain does lessen; that the cloud of grief does dissipate. Hope that life as you know it is gone forever, but that the new life replacing it can slowly begin to contain some joy. Hope that the brittle-as-glass heart will keep beating, the knot in the stomach will loosen, and the eyes will not always leak... as much.

Last year I was 4 months from loosing D; this year I am 16 months. Far enough down the road to still have a tender scar, but wanting to help others instead of being the one in need of intensive help. My heart ached for these people, but I knew this for sure: God was walking near enough to hear their words in His ear, and that He would bring about their healing in His time.

"Return to the stronghold, you prisoners who have the hope, even today I declare that I will restore double unto you." Zechariah 9:12

I do have the hope. But have I seen double restored to my life yet? Not exactly. But I have enough to share with others in need.

And for now? That is enough.

But I am holding out for the full circle in life.

Not the Village People Version

2010-11-12T06:12:00.002-06:00

I may have mentioned a time or a million that I teach the most wonderful second graders on the planet. (Top that). I may have also reminded you ad naseum that I followed my first grade class up to second grade this year. The same students in bigger bodies and smarter brains.

Anywho, last year my class wrote and performed an assembly for our school's BookSpring kick-off. (This is an organization that puts books into the hands of children that would not normally have them in their homes.) Our school has won the city competition for five years in a row as the school that raises the most money for this organization through a Read-a-thon.

The performance of my classroom's tour de force can be watched on this link. (Scroll down and the video is on the right side of the page.) It will fill you with The Happy, and remind those of us who know these children personally how much they have grown in a year!

Enjoy the film. Then go R-E-A-D. And see if you can get that tune out of your head in the next week or so.

Have a great weekend!

A Trip to Wally World

2010-11-09T19:06:00.001-06:00

When I began teaching five years ago at my present elementary school, there was a huge flap about growth in the neighborhood. Seems developers wanted to turn a former mall into an Upscale W*lm*rt. Can we just pause here and appreciate that little oxymoron? Upscale. W*lm*rt.

The parents at my school are highly educated and savvy. They took to the streets to protest this endeavor in many forms and fashions. This loyal bunch did not want the mom-and-pop stores in the neighborhood to be challenged, and it seemed that the Big Guys blinked. The building was delayed, and the size of the W*lm*rt was greatly reduced.

This week I saw in the paper that the neighborhood W*lm*rt was open for business. I didn't really intend to shop there. Loyalty, and all. But I discovered I needed brown paper lunch bags for a classroom turkey art project, and dropped in after school today.

And there it was: newly opened in the neighborhood that was not exactly welcoming it with open arms.

May I stop to say a few things here? This store is located in the greater Austin area, which has a population of 1,700,000 people if you include the surrounding cities. But look how empty the parking lot was at 5:00 pm today:
I remember one of the main concerns of the Neighborhood Association was that this business would bring too much traffic into the area. I'm thinking that may not be a problem if local people keep voting with their presence...
...or not. This is a picture of the produce department. You may notice one thing missing in this well stocked section. Customers. The store was a veritable wasteland of people.

I found my brown paper bags and walked around for a bit. The departments are very tiny and only offer a fraction of what you would expect to be sold. In the women's department, unless you were there for fleece and jogging suits, you would find little to buy. In fact, I thought of a few more things I needed while there. Not one of them was stocked at this miniature Big Box store.

The lady at the checkout chirped out, "Did you find everything you needed?" and was surprised to hear me say no, that in fact I'd found very little that I needed. "Oh. I can call another W*lm*rt and you can swing by there for your other needs." (Yes. Just what I want to do after 10 hours in second grade: "swing by" another large store.)

Will I return to this store? Well, since they only stocked the 200-bag size of brown lunchbags, I'm probably good on turkey-making art supplies until 2021.

Neighborhood Davids: I think you won this round. Goliath may be coming down.

Or at least heavily discounting large quantities of unpurchased produce.

Shrek

2010-11-07T21:00:00.003-06:00

I have decided that any extra money I have will be spent on travel and musical entertainment. Those are two interests I love the most.

Today, I went to see Broadway Across America's "Shrek: The Musical" with sweet friend, S. We clapped, we laughed, we sang along. And a good time was had by all.

We decided to memorialize the afternoon with a snapshot. Taken by a stranger. Who kept saying, "It's so good! It's so good!"

Ahem. I think she must have been talking about the musical.

Next up? "Radio City Christmas Spectacular: The Rockettes".

Dates me? Yes. Do I care? Can't wait!

Screen Play

2010-11-06T08:58:00.003-05:00

So, the craziness that is the first grading period in second grade is officially over. I've decided to move on to my Next Big Goal for my classroom: updated technology. (Those words make you want to take a nap, no?)

I've had a document camera and projector for about 9 months, that have sat lonely and dejected in their boxes. (These pieces of equipment attach to my laptop so we can use all manner of online educational resources. And watch movies about Lilly and her Purple Plastic Purse and Giving a Mouse a Cookie.) Anywho...my calls to the district technology people are mostly a lesson in frustration. Their first words, however jokingly, are always, "GET RID OF YOUR MACS". Dear District People: We are a Mac campus. Get over it.

I have not been able to lure anyone into my classroom from their downtown portals, but two days ago a fellow teacher came in after school and volunteered to do the job. AFTER SCHOOL. She is very tech savvy and, more importantly, is kind and gentle with those of us who are not. She makes it all sound very simple, and gives me confidence that I will not destroy the world with techno-fiddling on my computer. (I'm convinced the damage I would do would be a felony and not a misdemeanor. This may help you understand my reluctance to attach cords and electrical toggles.) She also says very helpful things as she works like "Don't use this button" (NO! I will NEVER use that button!) and "Look how this fits in right here! It needs to stay here." (YES! FOREVER! I will NEVER move it.)

She completed the job in minutes, and heaven shone on my little corner of technology. I'm pretty sure Disney cartoon animals scampered behind her as she left my room, all the while singing amidst twinkling lights. And after she left? I turned the machines off, tried to turn them back on again all by my bigself and... THEY WORKED!!! Oh, the technology that can now take place in my second grade room.

But wait; there's more: I immediately emailed my principal and asked for a screen to be installed in my room. The next day at 9:30 am, district men with ladders and drills were in my classroom with a screen.

I am going to overlook the fact that they arrived in the middle of my reading period. And that drills can be quite noisy. And drilling into concrete walls is very messy. Add that to the fact that my 18 seven year old best friends acted like they'd never seen a ladder or drill in their lives, and you'll probably understand very little actual reading went on. (It's a student holiday on Monday. Perhaps they'll catch up then.) BUT: We were getting a screen!

I explained what I needed to the district men: a screen that would work and roll all the way back up each time. (Oh, you laugh. I take nothing for granted in my classroom any longer.) This was necessary because if it didn't, it would hide parts of the alphabet and the Word Wall Words. And my students would exit to third grade not knowing how to write V, W, X, Y and Z or spell who, what, when, where, why and were. Essential Information.

No problem, these sweet workers promised! After an hour, they were done. (Yes: One. hour.)

I took the hopped-up-on-drill-noise-and-ladder class to lunch and came back to try out my new technology and screen. I pulled down the screen and...(You've probably already guessed this is not going to turn out well. May I tell the story anyway?)...it pulled out to reveal red capital letters that said "STOP!" and the screen was sprung for all time. On closer inspection, I realized it was probably original to the building in 1950, and the teacher's name written on it has been retired lo those many years.

Drat. I called the office to see if our Secretary in Chief could stop those men and send them back. They did return at 3:00 pm to tell me they weren't sure about a new screen. Maybe there was one someplace in the district warehouse. Right next to the box from "Raiders of the Lost Ark".

All I want to do is teach my kids. Teach.My.Kids. I have shown great restraint in not already sharing about the carpet assigned to my room. I have wrestled with it since the beginning of August. It is much too large, so I have to fold it to make it fit. The students and I have tripped all over its fold and wrinkles for 3 months. I was repeatedly told I should not fold it, but can not cut it. After the third child tripped over it last week and slammed into a desk, I enlisted another teacher to help me drag it out to the ramp. Where it remains. May it rest in peace. And carpet time is now hard floor time.

You probably came here for a witty little post and a small chuckle. Instead, you ran full force into My Crazy.

A screen and a carpet. That is what I need. And I'm going to trust the process and believe I'm getting them. Soon, even.

But tech support: we are still a Mac campus.

The Happy Post

2010-11-03T07:00:00.001-05:00

Many thanks to bloggy friends who sought me out this week after my last pitiful post. Pain endures through the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning.

And what a morning this is: Happy THIRD Anniversary to Married Daughter and my precious Son-in-law.

You married and moved to Missouri, and after two years relocated to Pennsylvania. You've had two homes and two dogs; two church homes and untold new friends. I'm proud of your ability to embrace opportunities, and always be on the lookout for the next new adventure in you life.
So many changes in the past three years, but believing that all things work together for good if we love Him, and are called according to His purposes.
May you be blessed today, and in all your tomorrows.

Happy Anniversary! May you always be madly in love.

Love, Mom (YBBM)

Weekend Wasteland

2010-10-31T20:15:00.003-05:00

Yesterday, I decided to finish sorting out D's office because I apparently believed I was fine, fine, everything is fine. And why should these things bother me anymore? I knew it had been more than a year since losing him. That was my lame-o train of thought.

Denial: it's not just a river in Egypt.

When I realized my emotional energy was flooding out of my body after only 20 minutes of box rummaging, I did the math. Total? 15 months. Drat. I thought at least 15 years had passed since July 2009. It feels like that, anyway.

The question was not "Did I take a nap from emotional exhaustion?" on Saturday. It was "How many naps did I take?"

I decided after the second nap, I should just get out a little bit so Saturday wasn't a total waste. I went to see the movie, "Waiting for Superman", a documentary on the failing schools of America. As a teacher, I knew this was a risky choice. These filmmakers can tend to paint things with a pretty broad brush. But watching real children who lost charter school lotteries that doomed them to their failing neighborhood schools? Heartbreaking. I left in tears and decided I'd swing by a nearby Barnes and Noble that D and I used to enjoy visiting.

I was on a roll for bad emotional choices. Why not one more? A Saturday late night visit without D did not evoke the warm and fuzzy. Went home, gave up on the day, and hoped a good night's sleep would refresh me for a better Sunday.

That plan worked well through a good cup of coffee over the Sunday paper. It fell apart getting ready for church. I discovered that my new contact lens solution must be used in its tubular container and not my old-school flat container. Apparently the solution had not neutralized and: OUCH! I ripped out my contact and tried to make it to church. About halfway through the music service, I knew I needed to get home and flush out my eye with water. Or rip it out. Which ever relieved the pain first.

Many eye washes later, and I decided a nap must be coming on. Again. I consoled myself that the day would not be a total loss: trick-or-treaters would be coming by later.

I had my candy out and not one but FOUR jack-o-lanterns lit in the front yard. And I waited for the doorbell to ring. But it didn't. I finally opened the door to peer out into the night and saw five small costumed bodies heading down my sidewalk toward the street. Seems my doorbell wasn't working. When they returned to my front door, I piled the candy into their bags. "I LOVE CANDY!" one little fairy enthused. I told her she was out on the right night.

I put a note on my front door that said "Please KNOCK", and waited for more visitors. Again, I finally opened the door and peered outside. To see several disappointed small figures leaving my yard. Oops. Forgot three year olds can't read, and the parents wait out at the street. I just dumped the rest of my candy into their waiting bags and called it a night.

I did find one more new scrap of paper that D had left behind. I'll be carrying it with me tomorrow to remind me things will continue to get better. He'd written down II Chronicles 20:17:

"You will not have to fight this battle. Take up your positions; stand firm and see the deliverance the LORD will give you, O Judah and Jerusalem. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Go out to face them tomorrow, and the LORD will be with you."

Amen and Amen. Looking forward to a better Monday.

Catching Up...

2010-10-27T21:25:00.002-05:00

Long time, no blog. The world of teaching aligned into a vortex of paperwork known as parent conferences, report cards, TPRI/DRA testing, and who-knows-what-else. In 22 years of teaching, I never remember so much being required at one time. I could have easily gotten it done if it hadn't been for those 19 children in my classroom. You know: the ones I'm supposed to be teaching as the paper piles loom large.

You will be happy to know that the "Bossy Club" (highlighted in my last post) has seen the error of its ways. The students replaced the fledgling playground organization with the politically correct "Good Deeds Club". I don't know if conviction hit seven year old hearts, or parents read this blog, but good things are happening at recess these days. Perhaps I could slip them some of my paperwork to complete as their first good deed.

Young Son, who now pedicabs with his Mass Communications degree, has been offered weekend stints at Ranger Stadium in Arlington. You know: for the Texas Rangers who are IN THE WORLD SERIES. He makes a staggering amount of cash for a weekend of work. Hoping the lion's share of it will go toward student loans which are due about... now.

I had a migraine yesterday that sent me home from school an hour early. Wearing sunglasses in the classroom to ward off the painful light did not make for good communication with seven year olds. I had a moment of sadness on the way home, remembering that my migraine and I were going home alone to an empty house. Then I remembered: while there is no D at home, there was sweet friend B at school who stepped up to release me at a moment's notice. I'm covered in this life by friends. One, who found out I'd had to go home sick, wanted to know if the migraine meant I got to miss the faculty meeting. Doesn't take much to make teachers happy.

I have finished the Archaeological Dig of my home. It only took 15 months to go through every last drawer, closet, box, attic and storage shed. And last weekend? The garage sale to end all garage sales. I have empty closets, garages and cabinets to show for all my hard work. In the beginning, any scrap of paper with a scribble of D's was too hard to throw away. Now? Freedom from the stuff of life is mine. If I decide to sell the house and downsize, I'll be taking much less with me on this road of life. My Grief Class leader warned me that I might feel very sad after the sale. And? Maybe a touch of bittersweet, but mostly I feel unencumbered with the flotsam and jetsam of life.

Last, but not least, a few weeks ago my church asked me to do a short video. Our pastor has encouraged our congregation to come up with a one minute version of how God is at work in our lives. The series is called "The Power of One". You can see my film here on the 10-10-10 date. It's been 15 months since the world sharply tilted for me. But this I know for sure: there are more good things ahead.

Because I'm the Boss, Applesauce

2010-10-19T22:38:00.004-05:00

And so, after 9 weeks of testing, paperwork, conferences and report card grades...the teacher in me retreated and took a personal day. Or, as we like to call it in The Profession, a "mental health day." Because what is not reviving about a perfect autumn day spent with Loyal Sister in a town that decorates its storefronts like this?
Or has restaurants that serve food like this?

Ahhh. A perfect day was had by all. I returned to school today revived, refreshed and ready to launch the second nine weeks of school.

And ran smack into a fellow teacher who had a story to report about my class while I was away.

Seems three of my seven year old best friends decided to form a club during my absence. "And what exactly will this club be for?" my teacher friend asked them. One little girl just stared with her big, brown eyes, not sure if the news would be well received by an adult. Her best friend just blurted it out: "We have a Bossy Club!" she all but shouted. (Small auxiliary male friend nodded furiously beside her.)

My friend was intrigued and probed the issue. "What exactly do you do in a Bossy Club?" she asked.

"WE BOSS PEOPLE AROUND, that's what! People are always bossing us and now it is our turn to be the bosses."

You miss one day and there is mutiny on the playground.

But there couldn't be three cuter bosses. Maybe I should just let them sub next time I'm needing a little break.

Locked Down

2010-10-14T23:12:00.001-05:00

Yesterday as we were preparing to leave school for the day, an announcement went out over the intercom: "THIS IS A LOCK DOWN."

We've done the drill before. We know to close the blinds, go to the assigned corner, turn out the lights and stay quiet. Mrs. O puts a green card in the window to show that everyone is safe and accounted for in the classroom. And then we wait for the "all clear" signal. Which usually comes very quickly. But not yesterday.

My first clue that something was a wee bit amiss was the glimpse I caught of police walking down the second grade ramp. I quickly suggested we sing some happy songs, and hoped everyone would look at me instead of the parade of uniforms outside. I got a book to read aloud about the time the question was asked, "Mrs. O. Is this a REAL lock down?" Hedging the question, I continued to assure my seven year old friends that we were fine, fine, just fine. I could tell there were some skeptics in the crowd, and one of the children suggested we sing Christmas songs. (Oh, Rudolph: thank you for your calming way on children.) The crowd was getting restless, and one boy suggested we "sing softly to calm us all down". And when a few gave into tears after the wait got a little too long? One of my students crawled across the floor for a box of Kleenex to share with those in need. (Parents: You are raising your children right. They are compassionate and thoughtful in time of need.)

After about 30 minutes, the Lock Down was cancelled. We went outside to see parents anxious to find their own children, and helicopters buzzing overhead. We learned later there had been an armed robbery in the neighborhood, but that all three "bad men" had been arrested. Sigh of relief.

The last time I faced an unknown situation in my classroom was the "real" September 11 in 2001. I was teaching third grade at another school, and we were only hearing snippets of what was going on in the world around us. That day, at least half the parents in my classroom came to the school at various times just to give their child a hug. I think the parents needed those hugs more than the children. I let the adults come and go as needed, thankful that our little central Texas town seemed to be safe from any impending danger.

When my students returned this morning, the "real" Lock Down was all they could talk about. So, I did what any good teacher does: I seized the moment and had everyone write about it in their journals. There was a solid 20 minutes of total silence as my little scribes scribbled furiously. My favorite line from this missive: "Mrs. O told us, 'Would I be reading you this book all happy and calm if this was a real Lock Down?' Well, she was WRONG!!!!" (And the line was underlined at least seven times for emphasis. As if she really enjoyed writing that. A lot.)

So, I end this post thankful for my students who kept a level head, even when the teacher was clearly not fooling anyone. And praying we'll never have to really use Lock Down for a "real" reason.

Two Roads Diverged in the Woods and ...

2010-10-10T22:54:00.005-05:00

I've had several bloggy friends ask me if Young Son ever made it to California on his bicycle. He'd bought a return bus ticket for himself and his bike. Just in case he had to get back to Austin quickly. He made it as far as Flagstaff, Arizona (1,100 miles) by pedal before hoping aboard the return transportation.

I'd love to think he cut the trip short because of my motherly concern involving a...ahem...desert on the way, and he was being cautious. Dream on. He was supposed to accompany his girlfriend from Austin to the Albuquerque Hot Air Ballon Festival, and the date was approaching. Apparently? Love wins out.

This weekend? Peddicabbing at the Austin City Limits (ACL) Festival.

I bet you are thinking, "What a carefree life!" Had the same thought when I got a text: "Are you still serious about paying for my GRE and entrance fees for grad school?" Wow! You bet I'm still serious and bursting with pride at all this diligence and responsibility. And I texted him back that little thought o' mine.

His return? "If I get in grad school now my student loans are deferred." Deep breath. Still proud.

But I'm thinking he should take the LSAT for lawyers in training. He has always had the angle, the loophole, the paradigm shift. And the love for adventure.

The End? Not by a long shot. Stay tuned.

Dick, Jane and Sally Travel to Transylvania

2010-10-08T22:47:00.011-05:00

Hello, Fall: you and your cool weather are so welcome in central Texas.

The calendar pages are continuing to tear off and we are nearing one of the favorite holidays of my seven-year-old best friends: Halloween!

When Young Son was that age, we were having some Halloween problems at my house. We had kind of taken a Halloween Moratorium for a few years because of some issues of the early '90s. Or of my fundamentalist first husband. The lines blur.

Anywho: we hadn't celebrated this end-of-October holiday for a few years, and we found ourselves standing in a store surrounded by costumes. Young Son was fixated on a huge plastic club. He turned to me and said, in his best lawyer-in-training voice, "All I want to do is dress up like Fred Flintstone for Halloween, carry a big club and get lots of candy. What's not Jesus-y about that?" Well, nothing I guess, since our Christmas card that year was a joy filled photo of Fred and his loyal sidekick, Wilma (aka now-Married Daughter) with big sacks of Halloween candy. And a good time was had by all.

The pendulum, for me, has swung back to the innocence of trick-or-treating. through the eyes of second graders. Until I walked through the children's book section at Barnes and Noble recently. Here's what I saw:

I have to admit that I laughed. Loudly. The characters of books that taught me how to read in the 1960s have apparently evolved. I flipped through the book and continued to chuckle because the book is just like the one of old, except for that pesky vampire.

Oh, look, look! What does Sally see? (A vampire under the bed, but no one believes her as it turns into a bat that flies away.) Oh, look, look! Run, Jane, Run. (From the vampire in the fort who is only seen by the children.) On some levels this book is VERY funny, but I'm not sure it should be in the children's section. I kept thinking about a nearsighted Grandmother buying it as a gift for her grandchildren, and missing the newest character and plot lines. Kind of like those monkeys chasing Dorothy, this could definitely make an impression on little minds in the formative years.

I've chilled out a bit about Halloween over the years, apparently. Enough so that Wilma grew up to be now-Married Daughter who dresses her poor dog like this for Halloween:

The crown of shame. (Run, Tex, Run! Your Nonnie would never make you wear that. Or read a book featuring Vampires lurking under your bed.)

The only bad thing about Halloween this year? It falls on a Sunday. Guess who gets to deal with the sugar high in a second grade classroom on Monday morning? Maybe I'll read that new book to them...

Kidding. I'll totally just give them more sugar to balance them out. Or beg for miniature Reese's and Almond Joys I know will be hidden in backpacks.

Who would deny that to a teacher carrying a big plastic club?

No. Nope. No way. No How.

2010-10-06T21:32:00.003-05:00

One of the topics we discuss in grief class is how difficult it can be to fit into a couple's world after losing a spouse. So, I was blindsided last week when I was told to bring a date to the grief class' leadership Christmas party in a few months. You see, the rest of the leadership has moved on and remarried or begun dating. I'm the odd single. Even there.

I cannot even express to you how awful the thought of dating is right now. And yet, there seem to be stirrings around me that some people think "it's time" for me to "get on with my life." I think this is what it must feel like when someone loses a baby and well-meaning friends say, "You're young: you can always have another one." Unintentionally, yet heartbreakingly, hurtful. There is no "replacement" in children or husbands.

I have realized recently that I am surrounding myself at church with people who are at least 20 (and sometimes 30) years older than I am. I think it is an unconscious defense mechanism to hide away from anyone even remotely available. Yet I've been told I should look into online Christian dating services (NEVER!) and reminded of "good" single men in my congregation. (NEVER, NEVER!) I realize these people are good-willed and kind people who want to see me happy. But I also know that I've got to find "happy" on my own first.

I told my grief class I would not be bringing a date to the Christmas party. (But I may ask Loyal Sister because she is a lot of fun and I don't see her as often as I would like lately.) I also told them flat out I would not be seeing anyone unless God sent them to my front door. And only then if they stated God had sent them to my front door. The leadership told me I should be careful what I ask for. Because it could happen.

I feel safe in my declaration.

Because I'm totally not answering the front door right now.

The Time Has Come to Talk of Many Things...

2010-10-02T09:45:00.002-05:00

Long time, no blog.

There are multiple very simple explanations for that. One stream of consciousness would include new school year and grade level, standardized testing that was completed and entered online and followed by looming report card grades slash Fall Parent Conferences. And somewhere in there I am also teaching my second grade class.

But on the real life side? I've been visiting old friends on the weekends, which is when I usually find the time to blog. I'm constantly thankful for the long term friendships I've shared with so many. Certainly those relationships are among the greatest blessings of my life.

Last weekend my precious friend of 25 years, P, and I flew to Oklahoma City to recognize her Special Decade Birthday. (Don't do the math and we'll all remain friends.) We had our babies at the same time, and raised five precious children among the two of us. Her oldest daughter, A, was in my first grade classroom, lo those many years ago. A is now married and living in OKC with her Law School Student husband and almost four-year-old daughter. What better way to celebrate this special occasion than to go visit this sweet family with P?

We flew in Saturday at noon, and flew out on Sunday at about the same time. But those in-between hours? Perfection! We got to spend plenty of time with P's granddaughter, A. I now know there is even more to look forward to in my future: grandchildren! (No pressure Married Daughter. Don't even think about it, unmarried Young Son.) Here we are in a cupcake shop we visited while strolling on a perfect fall day.
Three generations that just fill my heart up. When P and I met and became fast friends, we were about the age that her daughter A is now. I love full circles in life, and I love watching children grow up well in the Lord. Who would ever have thought that one of my first grade students would now be my friend? (A is also the person who designs this blog and my classroom blog. She writes a blog here that will fill you with The Happy.)

And last night? Another former student had a Big Game. S was in my kindergarten and third grade classes. Though I find it hard to believe, he is now a high school senior and the quarterback of his football team. See number 10 below? I was taller than he was when I was teaching him how to cut, use glue sticks and write the letter "s" going in the right direction.
Oh, how the years go by! His mom has remained a sweet friend over the years and offered me a great ticket to S's Homecoming game. I was able to watch him remain grace under pressure all four quarters as he completed 22 passes for 283 yards.

(Another full circle experience? S had a cousin who played for UT, and I'd always mail S the newspaper clippings. Now I'm mailing S his own clippings each Monday. And hoping college scouts are seeing those same stats!)

I'm so honored to now know these grown-up versions of former elementary students of mine. My school year(s) with them was just a dot on their life's timeline. But the joy I get watching them grow into adults who give me hope for the future of our country and world? It is a lifelong gift.

Baa! Baa!

2010-09-20T21:48:00.003-05:00

The glass carafe on my coffee pot broke this weekend. This is not too much of a problem since I had changed over to hot tea this summer after spending time in Ireland. But company? They insist on coffee stateside. I made the trek to Bigbox Wallyworld for a new carafe, and guess what? The glass pot replacement costs almost the same as an entire new machine! To add injury to insult, the only color they had the replacement in was black handled, and my machine is white. Can you say "consumers are being led around like sheep"? We have no choice anymore but to change to what The Company says is the New! and Improved! model or color. And it makes me kind of ticked. All this "going green" is made impossible as manufacturers make items and color schemes obsolete.

And one of the scariest recent changes? I just replaced all the hardware in my entire home to oil rubbed bronze. ("The newest thing!" my helpers at Lowe's promised me.) Sunday night I heard from a good source that (wait for it:) GOLD fixtures are coming back in again. It wasn't pretty in the 80s and it won't be pretty in the 10s. Or whatever we are going to call this decade.

And then? I walked through SteinMart tonight and saw my entire 1976 wardrobe on display for this fall's purchasing pleasure. Sometimes I get a feeling that all unsold merchandise is warehoused and then put back on the salesroom floors about 35 years later. Like we could forget cowl necks and long knitted sweater vests. Again: wasn't pretty then, isn't pretty now.

But during this little tour o'stores after school today? Something wonderful happened. For the first time since July 13, 2009, I had the thought that I like my life. I mean, to misquote Sally Field, "I like it, I really like it." I've moved past feeling disloyal to D if I begin to enjoy things without him here. I appreciated having time to leisurely clean my classroom for tomorrow after school today. Then I did the WallyWorld stop, followed by Target, Steinmart and Bed, Bath and Beyond. (Oh, shower curtain that matches my new bathroom scheme: you are apparently going to be somewhat of a challenge to me.) Not having to rush home made even after-school shopping fun. Obviously, I would not trade this new freedom for having D back. But this is where I am in life. And I'm starting to warm up to it.

And speaking of change: where is Young Son in his bicycle ride across America? Holbrook, Arizona: 1015 miles from his starting point of Austin, Texas. He just saw the Petrified Forest and is heading on to Flagstaff.

The temperatures in my neck of the woods are dipping into the 80s this week, just in time to welcome Fall-- Texas style. Welcoming the "cool". And welcoming the changes.

Just Say Yes

2010-09-18T09:04:00.007-05:00

If you will indulge me a little bit, I've been deep in memory of what my weekends used to be like when D was alive. The cancer limited his mobility and stamina, and he was a creature of habit, so our plans rarely varied from weekend to weekend. Friday night brought a trip to a great Mexican food restaurant (and even there D would order something healthy and not touch the chips and salsa!). We'd end the evening by swinging by Barnes and Nobles to get a magazine and playing, "Where's Tamborro?" This was an updated version of "Where's Waldo", except we'd look for a man who was there every Friday; the grandfather of a boy my kids went to school with. (Our kids thought we were pitiful for continuing this game weekly and even texting them when we found him.) If D found him first, he'd stand next to him in the books and look interested in whatever book was nearby until I found him lurking there. I'd usually have to back out of the aisle chocking laughter. And hoping that sweet older man did not know he was part of our game.

Saturdays usually brought us to a local movie chain that serves food. D's energy level could usually handle a movie or a meal. This theater gave us both. Following a late afternoon show, we'd go home and D would catch up on a TV series he was watching on NetFlix. (Boston Legal, Mad Men and Army Wives were favorites.)

Sundays found us the the back row aisle seat of church so D could maneuver in and out easily with his walker. We went to Sunday School where a sweet man always had Post-It notes with our names on them stuck to the two chairs nearest the door. After that, we always went for brunch at a restaurant in a cute little town near us where D worked. They, too, saved the booth nearest the door so D would not have to travel as far with his walker. After a great meal, we'd take a tour of the town and look at all the great restored bungalows. It was our dream to buy one and fix it up. It honestly never occurred to me that would not happen. Sunday afternoons were my time for a delicious nap, with D fussing that I was wasting the weekend. I was gone teaching during the week, so he spent quite a bit of time home alone. On the weekends I think he just wanted me close by all the time.

The routine was very soothing to him as his cancer ramped up. I tried to replicate that journey last night: getting food to go from that same Mexican food restaurant and grabbing a magazine from Barnes. (Alas: no Tamburro in sight.) It made me remember when Married Daughter was about 3 and her dad used to share a snack with her. Believe it or not, it was smoked oysters on toothpicks with crackers. I remember she asked for them one time when he was not home. When she tried one, she seemed visibly disappointed that, "They don't taste the same without dad eating them with me." I could say the same about my travel last night: just not the same. Obviously.

I have found that more and more of my spare time is being spent in my classroom after school and on weekends. I'm in a new grade, so it is somewhat like a new job in many ways: quite a learning curve. There is just no reason to hurry home for the first time in my life: no husband or children waiting or needing something. So, my second grade classroom and students are the recipients of more attention than usual. I'm pretty sure this ramped up classroom caring will result in many of them getting early admission to Harvard this spring.

Kidding. They are totally Princeton types.

So, I'm still looking for balance in life. And I continue to take the advice of Married Daughter: "Mom, you say "yes" to anything anyone asks you to do." Those "yeses" have led me places I've never been before; many a little odd.

And saying "yes" to life? Young Son is still cycling across America and has covered over 850 miles from Austin, Texas to Grant, New Mexico. He updates with location and photos often from his iPhone onto Facebook. I "swiped" these pictures from his Facebook for my blog. He'd be impressed with my high-techness.

And here is Young Son wearing one of D's cycling jerseys in front of a field of sunflowers in New Mexico. Triumphant and saying "yes" to life.

Godspeed, Chris. You are a great companion on this road of life.

On the Road Again

2010-09-15T21:20:00.005-05:00

Young Son has always been a very determined guy.

When he was 8, he asked me to buy him a shovel because he (and I quote) "wanted to dig a hole big enough to put him bike into." And he did.

When he was 9, he and three other boys in his classroom smuggled digging tools onto the playground every day for months to unearth a bolder. Into the mystery and adventure fiction genres, they were convinced there was treasure under that impressively large rock. When the stone was finally moved and no plunder was uncovered, he simply moved on to the next big challenge.

I could plot a timeline for this that included almost every single year of his 23 years on this earth. I was most impressed when he cycled in a 100 mile cancer benefit ride in D's honor one year (found here), and in D's memory the next. In August. In Texas. "No big deal, Mom."

It should have come as no surprise to me when he said he was leaving September 1st to ride his bike from his home in Austin to California. (CALIFORNIA, people!) He and a friend were setting out to complete the feat before student loans came due, accompanied by the necessary Real Jobs.

They headed to the Dallas/Fort Worth area first for a pedicabbing gig at Arlington Stadium to pay for the first leg of the trip. They finished that job and headed for the panhandle of Texas. He said one evening they were eating at a local cafe in a mapdot town. They asked the waitress if they could camp in the city park. "Sure, honey!" she declared. Her brother was the "director of parks" and she could fix them right up with one phone call. They were given permission for camping, but someone forgot to tell the person in charge of the park sprinkler system. Which went off promptly at midnight and soaked everything they owned.

There was a call from Roswell, New Mexico to let me know they were headed to Albuquerque next. They'd hit a few days of hard rain, blown inland courtesy of the last hurricane. He said the rain was a welcome relief from the heat. The hardest part had been the headwinds they were running into. (I asked him if he'd considered that there was a (how do you saw it?) desert on the way. "YES, Moooooom." If you are the parent of a 20 something child, I'll bet you can hear that tone of voice in your head right now.)

Anywho. Apparently: California, here they come.

I've loved watching the comments on his Facebook page. Friends encourage him on as if he is completing this journey on their behalf. This quixotic trip has captured the imagination of so many, and they are along for the ride via iPhone updates.

Ahh, youth. Peddle hard, Young Son. You may never pass this way again.

A Thousand Points of Light

2010-09-12T11:06:00.003-05:00

I was in a hurry to get to school on Wednesday morning. It had rained very hard the night before, and we'd been under a tornado alert. The roads were covered with debris, and there seemed to be traffic cones everywhere on the way out of my neighborhood. Streetlights were out, so my early morning departure was pretty dark. I kept thinking how odd it was that there were so many school buses pulled over to the side of the road. My quick evaluation of the problem was that they were probably early for their route and waiting until time to start picking up students.

How wrong I was.

Twelve inches of rain had fallen in my neighborhood in the past 10 hours, and the street behind mine had become a raging river during the night. One man was quoted in the news as having a kayak in his living room in case he had to evacuate. When the evacuation came, in the wee hours of the morning, the flood rushing down the road was not kayak-friendly. The fire department, police and national guard worked for hours to get everyone to safety. The middle school at the end of my street was closed due to flooding. And I slept through the entire thing.

How could I have driven out of my darkened neighborhood on the way to work and missed all that?

The city showed up immediately with dumpsters that were filled, emptied and refilled several times a day. These people lost everything in their homes. The morning after looked deceptively peaceful.
I cannot imagine just putting all my belongs on the front lawn to be hauled away.
Or to be scooped up by front loaders to be dumped and taken away.

On Saturday morning, the clean up continued. This time I was not going to miss it.
My backyard backs up to these homes, but I had no damage at all. I went to the neighborhood elementary school, where a community wide effort had come together to help these people get their homes emptied. Churches set up tents with food and water. Organizations showed up with practical items from industrial strength trash bags to heavy duty gloves for clean up. Hundreds and hundreds of families showed up to clean yards and pull water logged carpet and insulation.

My church (which is on this same street, but was not damaged) supplies shirts to our members that say "See the Need, Meet the Need". These t-shirts are worn for community projects. Our pastor is continually telling us that we should be "Jesus in skin" when our neighbors need help. I know that friends wearing those shirts were at my home many times during D's long battle with cancer, helping us with everything from yard work to making our home handicap accessible when D lost his leg to the disease.

This was the first time I'd worn the yellow shirt for a project, and I know that I received so much more than I gave. I was amazed to see complete strangers going door to door to find out if the homeowners had flood insurance, and when finding out the answer was "no", handing over a big check to help the family out.

Yesterday was the ninth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. I don't care what anyone says: the spirit of unity in our communities is still alive and well. I know: I saw it in my own backyard.

Wonderful Weekend

2010-09-06T08:38:00.004-05:00

This weekend, Loyal Sister and I went to "Trade Days" in Wimberly. (If you are central Texas locals, you really should meander on down there some first Saturday of the month.) The weather was almost cool, and I'm beginning to believe that our hot summer has lost its deathlike grip on this area of the country.
What is not to love about these quaint displays? Doesn't this make you want to explore?
Or buy big, chunky turquoise jewelry? (No, thank you very much.)
Alas, the puppies were not for sale. Just tired husbands hoping they'll make it home for the University of Texas game.

After we filled my van, Loyal Sister and I drove on down the road to a wonderful place called the Nutty Brown Cafe for sandwiches without peer: SBLTs (blackened salmon BLTs) and Fajita sandwiches on focaccia. Refreshed, we drove back into Austin for a tour of some of our favorite antique stores where we made a startling discovery: there were many displays of 70s furniture nestling their way into these hallowed halls. This is just wrong on many levels. First off, it's the furniture of our teenaged years. How can that be considered antique? And secondly: 70s furniture is just dark, chunky and ugly. A bad era of decorating that did not stand the test of time. I cannot even imagine a college student considering it retro-cool. (And I'm sure I've dated myself with that adjective, but PEOPLE: the 70s were not a pretty time!)

Sunday I got up and drove to a town two hours north for the happiest of occasions. Almost 24 years ago, I hosted a shower for my special friend P. Her baby grew up to be a lovely young woman who is now having a baby of her own.
Don't you just love those full circles of life? S looked glowing and the shower was such a special time to connect with old friends and remember when.
Here is S with her precious sister, A, who designs my blogs. A was in my first grade class and now has a daughter who is nearing that age! So proud of these sweet girls and the wonderful lives they've created for their sweet families.
(And let's not forget the guest of honor who will make his appearance sometime in October: Baby Nolan.)

And today? A lazy Labor Day at home. I have some friends coming to help do some minor repairs. Sweet friend, fellow teacher, and co-Ireland wanderer, B, has called to ask me to go see a movie later on this afternoon. Yes, please!

I don't even know how to describe to you how this weekend felt to me. One thing I learned about grieving for the last year is that it is very tiring. It takes a lot of energy to heal from a loss. To be up and around and doing so many great things in one weekend makes me feel like I'm getting back to my old self in many ways. As I've worked through a year of saying goodbye to D, I realize I'm beginning to say hello to my new life. And that new life? It seems to be a full and happy one.

I have so many good friends that I've known since high school and college. And more that I've acquired on this road of life. I have a job I love at an exemplary school. My colleagues are a joy to work with. And, HELLO! I teach seven-year olds who love learning. My house remodel is almost complete, and mi casa is a very comfortable and cozy place to live. I have been able to travel a lot (my favorite thing to do!) this past year with family members. Maybe, just maybe, the cool and refreshing fall weather is blowing in just as my new life is taking off.

Because, isn't the promise that "surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life..."?

And that's the promise for your life, too.

Have a Happy Labor Day.

Joy Coming in the Morning

2010-09-03T21:41:00.004-05:00

Do you know what this magical cup contains?

PUMPKIN SPICE LATTE!

You may think that the first sign of fall has something to do with leaves turning colors; I know it occurs when the Pumpkin Spice flavor arrives at Starbucks. I was tipped off to this Happy-Dance News by my friend D on her blog found here.

I planned to savor one when I met my friend MA there this afternoon after school. Rain blew through this morning and sliced our 100 degree weather to 90 degrees. Know what we call that around central Texas? A cold front. I am not making that up. Pumpkin Spice Latte+90 degree weather=Texas Fall y'all!

Some other things blowing through here? My grief class began again last night. But this fourth session? I am not a class member but a facilitator now. The other leaders/trainers warned me last night might be rough. Dealing with the fresh, new grief of others can be difficult, they said. I'm sure there will be some tough times in the sessions ahead, but last night I realized I am a good way down the road to healing. I looked around the room and was full of hope for the new members that they, too, would come out on the other side of their pain eventually.

"Would dare you, would you dare, to believe,
that you still have a reason to sing,
'cause the pain you've been feeling,
can't compare to the joy that's coming.

Come on, you got to wait for the light
press on, just fight the good fight
because the pain you've been feeling,
it's just the hurt before the healing
the pain you've been feeling,
is just the dark before the morning."

( Link to BEFORE THE MORNING - JOSH WILSON )

Amen and amen.

Never Giving Up

2010-08-28T09:25:00.004-05:00

Call me innocent or gullible when I wrote this post about discovering my electric company had been overcharging me for the 18 months since D signed a contract with them. I thought I'd make a quick phone call to the provider, we'd laugh about it, part as friends, and a refund check would be in the mail.

Reality is a different universe.

Because I do not want to be responsible for causing readers of this blog to turn to strong drink or blood pressure medications, I will not regale you with the details of the last month of repeated phone calls. Let's just say I was dealing with a call center in the Philippines with people who speak broken English, and there is no actual physical location where you can talk to a real person face-to-face.

Oh, silly me.

This process involved untold calls, faxes of proof, and promised return phone calls that never came. You know how customer service people give you their name and employee number when you talk to them? Well, that is Worthless Information because you will NEVER talk to that same person again. You will have to retell and retell and retell your story ad nauseum.

But I learned some magical things that I'd like to pass on to you if (please, God, no) you ever get in a situation with your electrical provider:

Always ask for a supervisor. The call people cannot do much to help you.
If the supervisor cannot help you, ask for these magic words: the ESCALATION TEAM.
If after a month, you still are getting the run-around, Google the name of the CEO of the company and email him. Because, people: that was the Magic Solution.

After documenting my month-long struggle to the CEO, he responded to my email in 15 minutes. When the person told to call me the next day did not return my call, I emailed Mr. CEO again. And again, he responded in 15 minutes. I am glad the person at the top cares; I am sad he is so distanced from the company that he thinks that customer care representatives are actually, I don't know: caring about the customers.

Anywhoo, his personal secretary called and left her personal phone number. I contacted her after school yesterday and the results were stellar: I have a credit for this month, a refund check coming in the mail for 18 months of overcharging, a new lower rate that is 6 cents a kilowatt hour less than my previous rate and no fee for changing before the contract ran out.

SHOUT THE VICTORY WITH ME, PEOPLE!

I was thisclose to giving up because the first week of school as an elementary school teacher has enough challenges of its own. But you know what pushed me over the top? The two nights in a row I stayed home for promised phone calls that never came. When I needed to pick up the first day photographs of my students from a local drug store. Heck has no fury like a second grade teacher scorned over bulletin board photographs.

The new lower electric rate, coupled with the new energy efficient windows and attic insulation will make my electric bill (in this house that is really too big for just me) manageable.

To quote Winston Churchill, "Never, never, never, never give up."

And emailing the CEO is a good idea, too.

Year Two

2010-08-26T17:50:00.005-05:00

One of the many organizational helps that D left behind is in that funny little closet that holds the central heat and air unit in the hallway. There is a ziplock bag with a spreadsheet to record the date each month when I change the filter. I'd love to say I remember to do this each month. (It is not for lack of writing utensils, because he left several pens in the ziplock as well.) According to the number of spaces on the sheet, it should last me until about 2021. The bag also contains yellow copies of any work that has been done on the HVAC unit (don't judge me because I know fancy technical phrases) and warranties.

All of this came in very handy today. You see, the first day of school on Monday found the mercury soaring to 107 degrees; Tuesday it was 108. Even in central Texas, this is considered hot as ... well, anything. (I'd use the "h" word, but I teach seven year olds who can read well now.) Imagine our bliss when we heard that a "cold front" was blowing through last night. It dropped the temperatures to the high 90s, and I'm here to testify that felt significantly cooler. Can I get a witness from fellow teachers who have playground duty?

It was, alas, too late for my central air. The heat caused it to overwork itself, freeze up and leak water. I'd seen D change towels out on that funny shelf in that funny closet over the years, but never paid any attention to how it all got fixed in the end. I finally called the A/C people listed on every sheet in the ziplock bag spanning a period of 10 years. The friendly secretary said the serviceman could meet me at home after school, but that I should turn the A/C off and leave just the fan running. Which would have been doable if I hadn't been in my classroom calling on my break. Quality Friend Connie to the rescue! I may or may not have a hidden key outside my house, and she slipped inside to switch off the unit so my house didn't float away due to condensation pouring out of the unit.

The repairman was polite, efficient and immediately effective. He let me watch and take notes, and explained I should be adding one cup of water mixed with one cup of bleach to the T valve by the W valve each month when I change the filter. But only during A/C months. And then my head spun off and rolled down the hall. How did I live decades with central air and never know that algae grows during the summer in the drain and can clog the unit? Anyone else know that? Anyone? Bueller? Anyone?

So, my A/C is fixed. My head is full of new things I should know but didn't. And I'm once again aware that D's terminal illness left him time to prepare some things that are helpful for me like my Central Air Tutorial in a Ziplock.

But he must have forgotten the advice for how to continue on in life without him.

It hit me pretty hard the other day that I spent the last year mourning the loss of D. But now? I find myself mourning the loss of me. Of my old life. The one that is gone forever.

I try to console myself that all my empty-nester friends are watching their children scatter across the country, and many of them are now living alone. Or with just a husband. Which is not a "just" at all.

Again: I don't feel lonely. I just feel so alone. My days are filled in my classroom. I love teaching, children, their parents, my fellow teachers and so on. But there is so much time that it is just me. I know I need to get out more. (Probably part of my problem is that most of my friends are in the teaching profession and the first weeks of school are just Peak Season for us all. ) No one seems to be available.

I'm not giving in to self-pity. People become widows all the time and figure out a way through it all. With my strong Swedish heritage, and the longevity of my relatives who almost all lived to be 100, I am probably not even half way through my life. And to quote Garth, I am much too young to feel this old. And alone.

Waiting for the rejuvenation that a cool fall always brings. And looking for a balance to fill in the gaps called "alone".

The First Day of School

2010-08-23T20:14:00.004-05:00

Today was the first day of school in my neck of the woods. What do you think greeted us in the media?

A school in Los Angeles that cost $528 million to build.

A nearby district that would no longer allow its teachers to have microwave ovens in their classrooms. (Something about microwave popcorn setting off alarms. As a fellow teacher suggested: why don't they just have an inservice on making popcorn in the microwave?) (And PS: This was the same district that tried to CHARGE teachers for having mini-refrigerators in their rooms a few years ago.)

A district having to remove anything that covered/decorated more than 20% of the walls after carefully applying bulletin boards for a week.

What should they have been reporting about?

Well, how about what I saw coming down my ramp today?

Kindergartners on the way to their parents after their first day of school ever.
I peeked out of my door to see what all the commotion was, and this is what was waiting for these newly initiated K-ers:
Can you see down at the end? I rushed in to my room to get my camera because it was the cutest thing: every parent down there seemed to have a camera or video running. Some were standing on benches and chairs for a better shot. I'm not so sure there weren't some in the trees. It looked like Channel 8 was waiting at the end of that ramp.
But the best part? The look in the parents' eyes as they watched their five year olds march out of the building. I know how quickly time will pass. They'll be watching those same children marching across a stage and reaching for a diploma in seemingly no time at all.

Parents, today you picked the good part: the part that cannot be taken away from you. And I hope you are treasuring these moments in your hearts. The children saw the pride and excitement in your eyes on their Big Accomplishment of making it through their first day. And I know they'll come back with that same excitement tomorrow.

Thanks for reminding me why I love to teach.

Farewell, Summer

2010-08-22T19:31:00.002-05:00

The clock is ticking the countdown of summer: the first day of school is tomorrow. What to do with those last golden hours? How about "Jersey Boys" with a fellow teacher? And for a bonus, how about running into another fellow teacher there? The world is apparently populated by wonderful teachers.
Remember having trouble falling asleep on Christmas Eve as a child because you were so excited about the coming Christmas morning? That's how I always feel the night before the first day of school.

I teach at an exemplary school with committed professionals. I have precious students and supportive parents. We are given all the supplies we need to teach with excellence. And I'm getting paid to do a job I love, love, love.

I am blessed in this life.

Meet the Teacher 2.0

2010-08-21T22:30:00.005-05:00

Well, after working approximately 3, 455 hours in the last two weeks on my new second grade classroom, I am proud to announce that it is ready to open for business on Monday.

I am now inside the school (as opposed to being on the Back 40 in a portable classroom, where I've spent the last four years.) My front windows face the butterfly garden, my back windows face our classroom garden. And I feel compelled to quote Cicero: 'If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need." (Though the instructional planning guides would like to add math, social studies and science to that list for classroom completion...)

Welcome! What is not to love about all these floor to ceiling windows that cover two sides of my room? (The room I came from had four small windows with security screens that kept the room dark, dark, dark.)

Our room has separate boy and girl bathrooms. My life with second graders just got so much easier.

This will be our writing and word work center. (I promise: this room is twice the size of the one we had last year!)
This is part of our library. I'm adding more and more chapter books for my 19 seven-year old best friends. (Look carefully at the wall on the right: I PAINTED the bulletin boards Bumblebee Blue. They are literally 60 years old, and I am tired of putting up and changing paper all the time as a teacher. The teacher next door had painted hers and told me that things stay up better, and she was right. One million staple holes fused by blue paint. Why didn't I think of that YEARS ago?)
More painted bulletin boards above the computer station. And see that light shining down from heaven on the right side of the photograph? I have a teacher's desk for the first time in five years! There was not room for one in the portable, so I've set up my own little Happy Kingdom in that corner of the room.

Got the room ready just in time for Friday's "Meet the Teacher". Since I'm looping with this class and already know the parents/students (and almost expect to be invited to family reunions this year...), I wasn't sure how many would come. Well? Almost everyone.

School starts Monday. I'm tired, but I have Sunday to rest. And catch Broadway Across America's "Jersey Boys" with fellow teacher Jennifer.

Coming soon to a school near you: a 175 day journey through a Magical Year.

Back to School: Teacher Edition

2010-08-17T08:07:00.003-05:00

Yesterday, the teachers in my district returned to school for Inservice. If you are not in education, you may never have given much thought to what teachers do to prepare for the new school year. (Note: It is not like the book, "Miss Bindergarten Gets Ready For Kindergarten" where the aforementioned teacher shows up a few minutes early to set up her room. That books grieves me so much that I have banished it from my classroom. Most teachers have spent days and usually weeks during the summer in workshops, curriculum work and room preparation.)

Well, first thing on our list was pancakes served up fresh from a local restaurant. Nothing says welcome back like the aroma of blueberry and gingerbread pancakes!

And then we are down to the serious business: catching up with our old friends after a summer away. Oh: and we talk about all that new curriculum stuff, too.
There was much talking and laughing and cheering. You think seven year olds with new backpacks and crayons are excited about returning to school? They have nothing on seasoned teachers who can't wait to begin the new school year.

I am so proud to be associated with a group of such dedicated and enthusiastic colleagues. The 2010-2011 School Year is shaping up to be one of the best yet.

Let the celebration begin!

Hope Does More Than Float

2010-08-14T08:12:00.005-05:00

One of the many gifts that D left behind for me to find after he was gone was a parallel Bible containing the NASB version (which I usually read) and the more user friendly Message Bible. I love to see familiar verses come freshly alive with the vivid description of the Message.

Today I was reading Romans 5:3-5 in the NASB: "... we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulations brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us."

Following? Tribulations bring perseverance, which brings proven character, which brings hope. And hope doesn't disappoint, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts.

I've done a lot of reflecting on this process as I've worked at fixing up my soon-to-be second grade classroom. Remembering where I was this time last year: only weeks from having lost D, but starting a new school year. Our Crazy Librarian stopped by my room this week and commented on how I was there in body at the beginning of last school year, but my mind and my heart were someplace very far off. And here I thought I was fooling everyone. Functioning well during the day, but coming home to sit and stare into space for many, many long hours. Glad no one was looking in my home's windows and preparing a case to have me legally certified as many bricks short of a load.

But in the back of my mind? There was always that small glimmer of hope. That hope that "doesn't disappoint" that things were going to get better. Even though I could never imagine that the cloud of grief in my heart would ever be gone. I sat through two sessions of my GriefShare class: numb the first time; thawing to reality the second. And gradually, so gradually, realizing that this trial was bringing perseverance and proven character that eventually sprouted hope. A hope of healing that became a reality.

I love being a teacher because we have our own calendar that is renewed each August. We basically get to start all over again each new school year. I can see the full circle of a year without D. A year spent going through every drawer, closet, nook and cranny throughout the entire house as if I was doing an archeological dig of D's life. And now I'm done.

Another full circle experience? The GriefShare leader called me yesterday and asked me to be a leader beginning in September. Well? Yes, please! If I can hold out the smallest grain of hope to anyone going through this experience, I will be glad to do the training necessary and give the time to the class.

And I close this post with the Message's version of our verse about hope:

"We continue to shout our praise even when we're hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we're never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary-we can't round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit."

Amen and amen.

Feathering the Nest

2010-08-11T20:31:00.007-05:00

Ummm, remember that unfinished classroom I showed you on Monday?
After 4 days it is still largely unfinished. Not for a lack of work.
But everything is now a lovely shade of O'Brien's Bumblebee Blue.

I had to laugh at myself that with ALL the boxes I still need to unpack and sort, I felt the need to put a new coat of paint on my shelves. (And, don't tell the other teachers: to iron my curtains with my iron and ironing board lugged from home.) I just know that I will soon be spending ten hour days in this room and I want it to look nice and feel like home.

I think the general population (read that: not teachers) would be amazed at the amount of time spent fixing up classrooms during the summer. We are not required to be at school for Inservice until next week, but most of us are logging some major "volunteer" time in our rooms. I know I'll go over the 40 hour mark tomorrow for the work I've done this week. But how many jobs let you fix up your work area any way you want to? (Granted: most of it is with our own money, but it is so worth it for the pleasant surroundings we create.)

The first year I taught was in the early 80s. The only supplies the school secretary would give us were a red grading pencil and ONE ROW of staples at a time. I am not making that up. In the mid-80s I taught at a school that required us to paint our own chalkboards on the wall if we felt we needed them. (They did supply the paint. But not the brush.)

The school I am teaching at now gives us a stipend for beginning of the year supplies (thank you, PTA!) Still, there is so much that a teacher must buy... without a tax deduction for the effort. But we want our rooms to be a place that our students love coming to each day. And I think every teacher at my school is successful in that endeavor.

Time enough to look over all the new curriculum next week during formal meetings. For now, I'm preparing the room to be a magical place...because we'll be making the future.