The night before last, the crash of thunder in the middle of the night followed by a rushing downpour woke me up out of a dead sleep. Jace came running in: Mom!
It's okay--go back to bed. It's just a big storm.
But yesterday morning when I got up, I looked out my kitchen window and saw the canopy covering my porch twisted up, one side completely collapsed under a mangled mess of metal.
I love my porch with the canopy that brings shade during hot summer days. One of my favorite things is sitting outside in one of the rocking chairs while Roy grills burgers for lunch. Or reading, my feet propped on a table, and listening to the birds as they call from the trees. In fact, when winter finally decided to retire for the year and Roy pulled out the canopy, I couldn't help but feel such a sense of excitement for days ahead underneath its shade all summer long.
So I'm thinking we are going to have to figure something out...but I'm not sure what yet. Mother's Day is just around the corner...
Yesterday we were delivered two huge boxes from Roy's brother Frank. One of those boxes had a frame that housed three photos together that Roy requested. It had a family picture when Roy was about five years old, a picture of Southmost Diesel, Roy's dad's business that stole Roy's childhood, and a picture of a truck. It is the coolest picture ever and as soon as we figure out where we want it, it's going up in our house. It looks so nostalgic, each member of the family smiling sweetly for the camera--the perfect family. And Roy is absolutely adorable--oh my goodness.
We've received lots of boxes lately, filled with all kinds of surprises that Frank mailed to us from their mom's home. He and his wife Barb are slowly going through everything, sorting and mailing and giving away and discarding. Some things they have sent are invaluable and make Roy laugh or smile, remembering.
We now have a homemade quilt that his grandmother made when the kids were little. It's a functional quilt, a silent reminder of the good ole' days. They sent us a set of plates that are delicate and elegant. And they also sent a single cup and saucer that doesn't match anything else in the box. I've wondered about that. Why? I'm not sure why that little cup and saucer didn't make the give away or discard pile. It's absolutely adorable and I would like a complete set of them. But a single set? I think I'm missing something.
And then there's this old iron. Back when Roy was little, his mom used to heat up that iron on a stove and then make grilled cheese with it. But as times changed, rather than discarding it, his mom used it as a doorstop and Roy claims he is surprised he even has a toe left, he jammed it on that iron so many times. When Madeline was diagnosed with terminal cancer, she called Roy and asked him if there was anything at all that he wanted.
That's such an awful question, Mom. I don't want anything, he said.
But she insisted, saying that she wanted to make sure that each of her kids got something that they could remember her by. She had some things of value that he could have asked for but, after careful consideration, he said, "Do you still have that iron you used as a doorstop that drove me crazy?"
And so, that iron is now ours. It lays upstairs by our bathroom door now, and I look at it every day. It is absolutely a relic of days gone by--an antique. But when I see it, I can't help but smile and picture that little boy with that mischievous grin in the picture that will soon hang on my wall--that little boy who grew up and stole my heart.
When these last boxes came in the mail yesterday, Roy carried them in and then said, I'm going out to work in the garage.
I looked at him, puzzled. "Aren't you going to stay and see what's inside?"
"I'm tired of memories."
Sometimes we have to take life in pieces. Sometimes we have to spend some time remembering, looking back and embracing the good. But when those memories crash and collide, creating a kaleidoscope of emotion exploding in our brains, we have to look forward to the future and know that good days are ahead. We have to dream and plan and focus on creating new memories that bring joy and goodness into our lives.
So that canopy that crashed down? I'm sad it's gone but...I'm getting a new one. I'm going to have my porch back and I'm going to spend some time this summer reading and talking to Roy while he bar-b-ques. I'm going to relax under its protection while thunder roars and rain crashes down around me.
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Sunday, April 27, 2014
More to Come
Last night was the Gymnastics Home Show. I always stand amazed at Roy's ability to pull together a team, perform flawless routines and make it all look effortless. Last night was no different. It was spectacular. Good job, hon.
My life has been in overdrive for the past few weeks, but as of today, the job aspect is on a downhill slope. I have one more major event to chalk off (Savana's graduation weekend) and then? We will be sprinting towards summer. I am so excited: lazy days reading on the swing; flowers blooming in the garden; long rides on winding roads behind Roy on the motorcycle; walks around the track with Tammy; home-cooked meals that are prepared with thought rather than thrown together at the last second so that we can all get back out the door to head in different directions; a relaxed wardrobe of long (to hide my aging legs) shorts and t-shirts...
Ah. Bliss.
I have noticed on Facebook that alumni weekends and Gymnastics Home Shows abound across the country. It seems like people everywhere on on their last sprint towards the end of school. In boarding schools across the US of A people are counting the days for one of the perks of the job:
S-U-M-M-E-R. Blissful, remarkable summer with all of its bounty.
Recently I was talking to someone who isn't in education and they were telling me that they were hoping to accomplish something by the end of the year. I said, "So is that May or December?" I think in education lingo--because, of course, the end of the year--to me--is May. When I'm talking to "regular" people, I have to shift my thinking. I'm not sure how the rest of the world survives working 49 out of 52 weeks. I'm not sure how they manage leaving the house by 7:30 am on a day where the sun bursts and laden trees spread their wealth of greenery for white walls and desks and busy-ness. I've never lived that way and neither did my parents. Education is in my blood. It's all I know.
And last night as I watched these kids perform on the mats, I was reminded of how much I love this job. As one of my freshman girls, Cheyenne, did her thing with a hula hoop, twisting her body in ways that shouldn't be possible, her eyelids glittering and lips sparkling behind a nervous smile, I burst, swallowing tears of pride for this girl who stole my heart from the moment I met her.
And there was EhK, running out alongside a bunch of girls who were doing the splits and showing off his own ability to manage them as well, throwing up his hands and encouraging the crowd to clap for his well-over six foot frame that managed this feat. That's EhK--always looking for some attention with his easy-going smile and silly ways.
Several times when Miranda ran across the mats or was thrown up on a pyramid, I thought There's Darian!...and then had to remind myself that...nope. My girls' day in gymnastics has come and gone. How in the world did that happen? I still well-remember watching how their little five year old bodies were thrown up on top of a pyramid, faces beaming as they waved wildly at the crowd. My heart stopped but they were alive and free, fully trusting that those below them would catch them soundly. And they always did.
It seems like yesterday. And now? One is graduating from college while the other is finishing up her freshman year.
Education has been good to me, to my family. It has provided a wealth of goodness for my kids. Last night I was the first to leave for the gym so I asked Darian to be sure Jace came with her. Several minutes after the show started, I suddenly realized I hadn't seen Jace since leaving home. Getting Darian's attention, I mouthed, Where's Jace?? She looked around wildly...and shrugged. So, I shrugged too and went back to watching the show. Because, the truth is, I knew that regardless he was fine. He was most likely somewhere in the gym, hanging with a friend that he found. And sure enough--he was.
But the point is, we live in a safe place. Our kids have been able to run a campus, ride bikes freely, stay out 'til dark and live as I grew up when neighborhoods were safe and nobody worried that one of us would go missing. It's a blessing that I take for granted most days, forgetting that most families don't have such luxury.
This morning as I perused Facebook, I looked through some pictures of class reunions from schools where I've taught and noted photographs of past students who are now all grown up. Some I recognized, some I didn't. But regardless, I was reminded of how blessed I've been to have these relationships with kids over the years who are now adults, forging families of their own.
And so, as I look forward to the days ahead, I'm thankful--thankful that this year is coming to a close, thankful to my freshmen who have given me opportunity to know 32 more people in this world who make me laugh (when I'm not exasperated), thankful for an environment that has let me raise my family with plenty of room to run, thankful for so many, many things.
And to think...there's so much more to come.
My life has been in overdrive for the past few weeks, but as of today, the job aspect is on a downhill slope. I have one more major event to chalk off (Savana's graduation weekend) and then? We will be sprinting towards summer. I am so excited: lazy days reading on the swing; flowers blooming in the garden; long rides on winding roads behind Roy on the motorcycle; walks around the track with Tammy; home-cooked meals that are prepared with thought rather than thrown together at the last second so that we can all get back out the door to head in different directions; a relaxed wardrobe of long (to hide my aging legs) shorts and t-shirts...
Ah. Bliss.
I have noticed on Facebook that alumni weekends and Gymnastics Home Shows abound across the country. It seems like people everywhere on on their last sprint towards the end of school. In boarding schools across the US of A people are counting the days for one of the perks of the job:
S-U-M-M-E-R. Blissful, remarkable summer with all of its bounty.
Recently I was talking to someone who isn't in education and they were telling me that they were hoping to accomplish something by the end of the year. I said, "So is that May or December?" I think in education lingo--because, of course, the end of the year--to me--is May. When I'm talking to "regular" people, I have to shift my thinking. I'm not sure how the rest of the world survives working 49 out of 52 weeks. I'm not sure how they manage leaving the house by 7:30 am on a day where the sun bursts and laden trees spread their wealth of greenery for white walls and desks and busy-ness. I've never lived that way and neither did my parents. Education is in my blood. It's all I know.
And last night as I watched these kids perform on the mats, I was reminded of how much I love this job. As one of my freshman girls, Cheyenne, did her thing with a hula hoop, twisting her body in ways that shouldn't be possible, her eyelids glittering and lips sparkling behind a nervous smile, I burst, swallowing tears of pride for this girl who stole my heart from the moment I met her.
And there was EhK, running out alongside a bunch of girls who were doing the splits and showing off his own ability to manage them as well, throwing up his hands and encouraging the crowd to clap for his well-over six foot frame that managed this feat. That's EhK--always looking for some attention with his easy-going smile and silly ways.
Several times when Miranda ran across the mats or was thrown up on a pyramid, I thought There's Darian!...and then had to remind myself that...nope. My girls' day in gymnastics has come and gone. How in the world did that happen? I still well-remember watching how their little five year old bodies were thrown up on top of a pyramid, faces beaming as they waved wildly at the crowd. My heart stopped but they were alive and free, fully trusting that those below them would catch them soundly. And they always did.
It seems like yesterday. And now? One is graduating from college while the other is finishing up her freshman year.
Education has been good to me, to my family. It has provided a wealth of goodness for my kids. Last night I was the first to leave for the gym so I asked Darian to be sure Jace came with her. Several minutes after the show started, I suddenly realized I hadn't seen Jace since leaving home. Getting Darian's attention, I mouthed, Where's Jace?? She looked around wildly...and shrugged. So, I shrugged too and went back to watching the show. Because, the truth is, I knew that regardless he was fine. He was most likely somewhere in the gym, hanging with a friend that he found. And sure enough--he was.
But the point is, we live in a safe place. Our kids have been able to run a campus, ride bikes freely, stay out 'til dark and live as I grew up when neighborhoods were safe and nobody worried that one of us would go missing. It's a blessing that I take for granted most days, forgetting that most families don't have such luxury.
This morning as I perused Facebook, I looked through some pictures of class reunions from schools where I've taught and noted photographs of past students who are now all grown up. Some I recognized, some I didn't. But regardless, I was reminded of how blessed I've been to have these relationships with kids over the years who are now adults, forging families of their own.
And so, as I look forward to the days ahead, I'm thankful--thankful that this year is coming to a close, thankful to my freshmen who have given me opportunity to know 32 more people in this world who make me laugh (when I'm not exasperated), thankful for an environment that has let me raise my family with plenty of room to run, thankful for so many, many things.
And to think...there's so much more to come.
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Choosing Happiness
This morning I read about learning to be happy regardless of circumstances. It's so easy to say...Whenever I get ___, I'll be so happy! Or...Whenever this happens, I'll finally be happy! But the truth is, we need to learn to recognize how things and events come and go like the waves of the ocean. But through it all, we can maintain a sense of calm, of peace, of happiness.
I'm not quite there yet.
Currently, I'm on pins and needles. I have applied for full-time work and actually had an interview. Supposedly at least one more interview for another job is coming and maybe even two. I struggle a bit to not let anxiety rule in my life at the moment. Sometimes I have to stop, take a deep breath, and let it go. That has been the story of my life, I think.
When I look back at the course of my life, it hasn't been the average journey. Working for the Adventist system has brought with it trekking cross-country: we started in Colorado at Campion, nestled at the base of the Rockies; moved to California to teach in the public school system so that we could both have full-time work and live close to my sister Lori; missed the Adventist system (and had a baby) so we moved to New Mexico to plunge ourselves into saving a dying school; moved to Wisconsin when that school closed; moved to Keene, TX, to get out of the dorm; moved to Missouri because Keene was like living in a different country; moved to North Carolina because Roy longed for full-time pe again.
So here we are...and I refuse to move again. I am done. So is Roy. But of course...living here has been a challenge because there is no full-time job for me. And until this year, I wasn't willing to work in the community because of Jace. But...he is almost twelve now, so my time has come. I'm ready to venture outside of the safety of an Adventist setting. I'm ready for more than part-time work. I'm ready to have some financial freedom. I'm ready to meet people that aren't my neighbors. I'm ready to be challenged and have experiences that broaden my horizons. I'm ready for so many things.
And so, now I am in the midst of the waiting game...and it is excruciating. I struggle to think of things beyond Will they call today? Did they like me? Was I good enough? I struggle to remember that happiness goes beyond the events and circumstances of my life.
My recipes are a mess. I have three boxes of recipes: one box houses our beloved meals that are no-brainers: everybody loves them; another box houses recipes that I don't make quite as often but regardless they are tested and proved; a third box houses recipes that I want to try but...haven't. And so I have come upon a new system after searching the Internet for organizing all of my recipes into a notebook. But of course it requires typing them all out, printing them, and organizing them into the notebook after that's all done.
So last night I started typing from the first box that has our time-tested and dog-eared recipes in it. And as I read through most of those recipes, I was reminded of the years of watching my kids grow up, sitting around the table, laughing. In my mind's eye that's what I see: talking and laughing around the table as we dined on cottage cheese loaf and mashed potatoes or homemade cheese enchiladas or red lentil curry. I remembered how Savana swallowed spaghetti with my homemade sauce and practically choked as she forgot to chew. I laughed as I recalled how Darian lied that the meatballs with sweet and sour glaze were too hot to eat even though they had sat on her plate for well over twenty minutes. She just couldn't bare to eat them. (The girls still practically gag when I mention my meatballs which, by the way, are scrumptious. They are just weird.) I remembered birthday parties with Dirt Cake and debates about whether my homemade macaroni and cheese is better than the Kraft version (a debate that still annoys me as my homemade version is so much better so why is there a debate???).
Reading through those recipes reminded me of how beautiful my life is. Those recipes reminded me of family and laughter and love and dining around a table in solidarity. They reminded me that life is too short to worry about the circumstances that fight for control over one's peace. They reminded me that, when this life is over, we will look back and remember cheesy lasagna with loved ones around the table--not waiting for a phone call that dictates our next job.
And so, today I am taking a deep breath. Today I am reveling in the fact it is not raining or snowing outside (as it did yesterday). The sun is just beginning to peak over the horizon and a beautiful day is before me. Jace has been gone on a class trip but he is returning this afternoon and I can't wait. I am so excited to hear his stories and envelop him in a bear hug, swearing to him I'm never letting go as he wiggles and screams to break free (even though I know he relishes every second). I am taking Piper outside to play ball and I will watch him bask in the sheer joy of the moment. I will laugh with Roy and talk to my girls about their day. I will work with friends as we clean up the campus in preparation for Alumni Weekend.
Today promises to be a good day and I'm not going to ruin it with anxiety over what may or may not happen.
Today I choose happiness.
I'm not quite there yet.
Currently, I'm on pins and needles. I have applied for full-time work and actually had an interview. Supposedly at least one more interview for another job is coming and maybe even two. I struggle a bit to not let anxiety rule in my life at the moment. Sometimes I have to stop, take a deep breath, and let it go. That has been the story of my life, I think.
When I look back at the course of my life, it hasn't been the average journey. Working for the Adventist system has brought with it trekking cross-country: we started in Colorado at Campion, nestled at the base of the Rockies; moved to California to teach in the public school system so that we could both have full-time work and live close to my sister Lori; missed the Adventist system (and had a baby) so we moved to New Mexico to plunge ourselves into saving a dying school; moved to Wisconsin when that school closed; moved to Keene, TX, to get out of the dorm; moved to Missouri because Keene was like living in a different country; moved to North Carolina because Roy longed for full-time pe again.
So here we are...and I refuse to move again. I am done. So is Roy. But of course...living here has been a challenge because there is no full-time job for me. And until this year, I wasn't willing to work in the community because of Jace. But...he is almost twelve now, so my time has come. I'm ready to venture outside of the safety of an Adventist setting. I'm ready for more than part-time work. I'm ready to have some financial freedom. I'm ready to meet people that aren't my neighbors. I'm ready to be challenged and have experiences that broaden my horizons. I'm ready for so many things.
And so, now I am in the midst of the waiting game...and it is excruciating. I struggle to think of things beyond Will they call today? Did they like me? Was I good enough? I struggle to remember that happiness goes beyond the events and circumstances of my life.
My recipes are a mess. I have three boxes of recipes: one box houses our beloved meals that are no-brainers: everybody loves them; another box houses recipes that I don't make quite as often but regardless they are tested and proved; a third box houses recipes that I want to try but...haven't. And so I have come upon a new system after searching the Internet for organizing all of my recipes into a notebook. But of course it requires typing them all out, printing them, and organizing them into the notebook after that's all done.
So last night I started typing from the first box that has our time-tested and dog-eared recipes in it. And as I read through most of those recipes, I was reminded of the years of watching my kids grow up, sitting around the table, laughing. In my mind's eye that's what I see: talking and laughing around the table as we dined on cottage cheese loaf and mashed potatoes or homemade cheese enchiladas or red lentil curry. I remembered how Savana swallowed spaghetti with my homemade sauce and practically choked as she forgot to chew. I laughed as I recalled how Darian lied that the meatballs with sweet and sour glaze were too hot to eat even though they had sat on her plate for well over twenty minutes. She just couldn't bare to eat them. (The girls still practically gag when I mention my meatballs which, by the way, are scrumptious. They are just weird.) I remembered birthday parties with Dirt Cake and debates about whether my homemade macaroni and cheese is better than the Kraft version (a debate that still annoys me as my homemade version is so much better so why is there a debate???).
Reading through those recipes reminded me of how beautiful my life is. Those recipes reminded me of family and laughter and love and dining around a table in solidarity. They reminded me that life is too short to worry about the circumstances that fight for control over one's peace. They reminded me that, when this life is over, we will look back and remember cheesy lasagna with loved ones around the table--not waiting for a phone call that dictates our next job.
And so, today I am taking a deep breath. Today I am reveling in the fact it is not raining or snowing outside (as it did yesterday). The sun is just beginning to peak over the horizon and a beautiful day is before me. Jace has been gone on a class trip but he is returning this afternoon and I can't wait. I am so excited to hear his stories and envelop him in a bear hug, swearing to him I'm never letting go as he wiggles and screams to break free (even though I know he relishes every second). I am taking Piper outside to play ball and I will watch him bask in the sheer joy of the moment. I will laugh with Roy and talk to my girls about their day. I will work with friends as we clean up the campus in preparation for Alumni Weekend.
Today promises to be a good day and I'm not going to ruin it with anxiety over what may or may not happen.
Today I choose happiness.
Monday, April 7, 2014
Giving Just Because...
Conquer-a-Cove is officially behind me. I don't think I have ever been so exhausted as I was last night. Last week alone I put in 40 hours for Hope Chest--not including my hours I put in at the school. But, thankfully, it went well and next year? Sarah (the new director) can take it away! So now comes the clean up and the reorganization of my office (which looks like it got hit by a mac truck) and thank yous and receipting and...a few more odds and ends, I'm sure...and then...done. It's been a good job.
Yesterday a ridiculous number of people came out to help, free of charge. I was amazed at so many generous, kind spirits. Everyone was there to help make CAC a raging success, giving up their Sunday to work for the good of others.
I genuinely think there are more good people in the world than bad. I know that, when we watch the news, it is filled with stories of horror and sadness and gloom. But in regular living--when I go to the grocery store or fill up my tank with gas or bump into strangers on the street or attend a 5K--those people I bump into? They are just minding their own business, living their lives, creating a little slice of goodness in the world in the best way they know how.
Yesterday there were 178 runners/walkers. A majority of them wore names of people on their back that they were honoring, a testament to lives of love and friendship. Several came as teams, wearing matching socks or shirts--symbols of their unity to fight cancer for the good of others. One woman came in a superwoman costume as she has just beat cancer, and she was all smiles--hardly any hair on her head. But her spirit? Indomitable.
A week ago or so, Roy and I were driving in Asheville and we stopped at a stoplight. I looked over at the driver next to me and she had the most adorable ringlet-curly hair. She was about my age with this wild blonde hair cut in a really cute way and she was talking to the passenger in the vehicle in quite an animated fashion, laughing. I said to Roy, "In my next life? I'm going to have her hair."
And then on Saturday night, we took Jace for Cold Stone ice cream. It was initially supposed to be a huge group affair, complete with Savana and Guerin and a host of their friends...but as it turned out, they couldn't come so it was just the three of us. Anyway, we walked into Cold Stone behind a family and when I looked up, I realized that the mom was this same girl who'd been the driver of the car! And so, since I don't have a filter sometimes, I said, "Hey! I have a funny story for you!"
She looked at me, puzzled, and immediately she lit up. "For me?" she said, all smiles. Her teenage son stood next to her and he literally rolled his eyes at me, completely annoyed at this stranger who dared to cross boundaries of social etiquette and act friendly. And so, he left for the bathroom before he had a chance to hear what I had to say. I explained to her how I saw her in a car and told my husband I wanted her hair.
"I prayed for this hair!" she said. "When I was a little girl my hair was stick-straight. And then when I hit puberty? Curls everywhere!" We talked for a minute, laughed together, and then she rejoined her family and we went back to being strangers.
But as I watched her with her sons, so encouraging and kind, I thought, "If we were neighbors, we would be friends."
And once again I was reminded that this world is filled with good people. People who love their kids and are their best cheerleaders. People who care about others and this world we live in. People who attend 5Ks and run for the support of a good cause and in honor of someone who has touched their lives. And people who volunteer to work diligently out of the goodness of their hearts to make a 5K a success...just because...
People who give when they don't have to...
We live in a good place here in Candler, North Carolina. And I'm thankful.
Yesterday a ridiculous number of people came out to help, free of charge. I was amazed at so many generous, kind spirits. Everyone was there to help make CAC a raging success, giving up their Sunday to work for the good of others.
I genuinely think there are more good people in the world than bad. I know that, when we watch the news, it is filled with stories of horror and sadness and gloom. But in regular living--when I go to the grocery store or fill up my tank with gas or bump into strangers on the street or attend a 5K--those people I bump into? They are just minding their own business, living their lives, creating a little slice of goodness in the world in the best way they know how.
Yesterday there were 178 runners/walkers. A majority of them wore names of people on their back that they were honoring, a testament to lives of love and friendship. Several came as teams, wearing matching socks or shirts--symbols of their unity to fight cancer for the good of others. One woman came in a superwoman costume as she has just beat cancer, and she was all smiles--hardly any hair on her head. But her spirit? Indomitable.
A week ago or so, Roy and I were driving in Asheville and we stopped at a stoplight. I looked over at the driver next to me and she had the most adorable ringlet-curly hair. She was about my age with this wild blonde hair cut in a really cute way and she was talking to the passenger in the vehicle in quite an animated fashion, laughing. I said to Roy, "In my next life? I'm going to have her hair."
And then on Saturday night, we took Jace for Cold Stone ice cream. It was initially supposed to be a huge group affair, complete with Savana and Guerin and a host of their friends...but as it turned out, they couldn't come so it was just the three of us. Anyway, we walked into Cold Stone behind a family and when I looked up, I realized that the mom was this same girl who'd been the driver of the car! And so, since I don't have a filter sometimes, I said, "Hey! I have a funny story for you!"
She looked at me, puzzled, and immediately she lit up. "For me?" she said, all smiles. Her teenage son stood next to her and he literally rolled his eyes at me, completely annoyed at this stranger who dared to cross boundaries of social etiquette and act friendly. And so, he left for the bathroom before he had a chance to hear what I had to say. I explained to her how I saw her in a car and told my husband I wanted her hair.
"I prayed for this hair!" she said. "When I was a little girl my hair was stick-straight. And then when I hit puberty? Curls everywhere!" We talked for a minute, laughed together, and then she rejoined her family and we went back to being strangers.
But as I watched her with her sons, so encouraging and kind, I thought, "If we were neighbors, we would be friends."
And once again I was reminded that this world is filled with good people. People who love their kids and are their best cheerleaders. People who care about others and this world we live in. People who attend 5Ks and run for the support of a good cause and in honor of someone who has touched their lives. And people who volunteer to work diligently out of the goodness of their hearts to make a 5K a success...just because...
People who give when they don't have to...
We live in a good place here in Candler, North Carolina. And I'm thankful.
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Procrastination
A pile of clean clothes is resting on my couch. It has been there for two days now. Every day I think I need to get those put away! but then I don't. Yesterday evening, when I got home from school, I took my shoes off and placed them on top of the pile of clean clothes, thinking, When I take these clothes upstairs, all folded and ready to go, I will put these shoes away too.
The shoes are still sitting on top of the pile, undisturbed. I wonder if I will get to these clothes (and shoes) today? I wonder if I'll find the time or the motivation to conquer this laundry.
Upstairs, I have several piles of clothes that need to be addressed: a pile of "after work" clothes; a pile of "this is what I wear when I walk with Tammy" clothes; a pile of dirty clothes...
Roy doesn't have any piles of clothes. He has this weird thing where he simply doesn't procrastinate. I don't get it. Sometimes it just feels so good to walk away mindlessly.
But on a good note? I am all caught up on grading. The brick order for Fleetwood Park is submitted and waiting arrival. All of my grading for Sycamore (the online school I work for) is up to date. I am in the throes of last minute details for Conquer a Cove as the big day is Sunday...so today and tomorrow spell frantic gathering of supplies and compiling packets for participants (over 125 and counting).
I am almost at the finish line.
Actually, I am almost at the finish line for so many things. This school year is on a fast downhill trek. Each weekend is accounted for from now til graduation: Conquer a Cove, homeleave which brings my beautiful friend Sue, Alumni Weekend (yikes), Academy Days (Roy's homeshow), Savana's graduation, the last regular school weekend with all of its end of the year festivities, graduation.
I know it all by heart--don't even have to look at a calendar. It's crazy to me how quickly time flies this time of year with its endless activities that topple and intersect and freefall towards the end of May.
And today? It's Music Fest here at the academy. Jace is attending for the very first time. It doesn't seem possible; but, of course, it is. Last night just before he went to bed I walked him through the schedule, telling him all about his next two days. That sounds like so much fun! he said. I can't wait!
My girls always felt that way too--bursting through the door with stories and smiles and laughter of their fun-filled days of Music Fest. And now it's Jace's turn.
Last night when I got home from walking the track with Tammy, Jace was playing basketball by himself on the driveway. Come on, Mom. I'll beat you in a game of one-on-one. Whoever gets ten points first is the winner. I'm sure it'll be me because you're old!
And so I played him. I was amazed at his ball-handling skills. He's grown by leaps and bounds since the last time I played him. Of course, he plays all of the time these days as basketball is his first love when it comes to sports. But, I'm a bit taller than him still so I managed to just barely beat him: 10-9. But it was a true game--I didn't let him make a basket for the purpose of preserving his confidence.
I'm impressed, Mom, he said. I didn't think you had it in you, being that you're so old and all.
Thanks, Jace.
And so we came inside, just the two of us, and he headed up to take a shower while I called my sister Tami to catch up on her life.
And it was then that I noticed the clean laundry, still sitting on my couch. I should fold those clothes while I'm talking to my sister, I thought.
But I didn't.
Life presents many things that we simply can't procrastinate. We can't stop time from barrelling on. We can't stop our kids from growing. We can't slow the school year down. Seasons come and go. The sun continues to shine and the world spins 'round and 'round.
It's all out of my control. But those clothes? They'll just sit and patiently wait, day by day, until finally, I decide I have had enough and I conquer them, piece by piece.
The shoes are still sitting on top of the pile, undisturbed. I wonder if I will get to these clothes (and shoes) today? I wonder if I'll find the time or the motivation to conquer this laundry.
Upstairs, I have several piles of clothes that need to be addressed: a pile of "after work" clothes; a pile of "this is what I wear when I walk with Tammy" clothes; a pile of dirty clothes...
Roy doesn't have any piles of clothes. He has this weird thing where he simply doesn't procrastinate. I don't get it. Sometimes it just feels so good to walk away mindlessly.
But on a good note? I am all caught up on grading. The brick order for Fleetwood Park is submitted and waiting arrival. All of my grading for Sycamore (the online school I work for) is up to date. I am in the throes of last minute details for Conquer a Cove as the big day is Sunday...so today and tomorrow spell frantic gathering of supplies and compiling packets for participants (over 125 and counting).
I am almost at the finish line.
Actually, I am almost at the finish line for so many things. This school year is on a fast downhill trek. Each weekend is accounted for from now til graduation: Conquer a Cove, homeleave which brings my beautiful friend Sue, Alumni Weekend (yikes), Academy Days (Roy's homeshow), Savana's graduation, the last regular school weekend with all of its end of the year festivities, graduation.
I know it all by heart--don't even have to look at a calendar. It's crazy to me how quickly time flies this time of year with its endless activities that topple and intersect and freefall towards the end of May.
And today? It's Music Fest here at the academy. Jace is attending for the very first time. It doesn't seem possible; but, of course, it is. Last night just before he went to bed I walked him through the schedule, telling him all about his next two days. That sounds like so much fun! he said. I can't wait!
My girls always felt that way too--bursting through the door with stories and smiles and laughter of their fun-filled days of Music Fest. And now it's Jace's turn.
Last night when I got home from walking the track with Tammy, Jace was playing basketball by himself on the driveway. Come on, Mom. I'll beat you in a game of one-on-one. Whoever gets ten points first is the winner. I'm sure it'll be me because you're old!
And so I played him. I was amazed at his ball-handling skills. He's grown by leaps and bounds since the last time I played him. Of course, he plays all of the time these days as basketball is his first love when it comes to sports. But, I'm a bit taller than him still so I managed to just barely beat him: 10-9. But it was a true game--I didn't let him make a basket for the purpose of preserving his confidence.
I'm impressed, Mom, he said. I didn't think you had it in you, being that you're so old and all.
Thanks, Jace.
And so we came inside, just the two of us, and he headed up to take a shower while I called my sister Tami to catch up on her life.
And it was then that I noticed the clean laundry, still sitting on my couch. I should fold those clothes while I'm talking to my sister, I thought.
But I didn't.
Life presents many things that we simply can't procrastinate. We can't stop time from barrelling on. We can't stop our kids from growing. We can't slow the school year down. Seasons come and go. The sun continues to shine and the world spins 'round and 'round.
It's all out of my control. But those clothes? They'll just sit and patiently wait, day by day, until finally, I decide I have had enough and I conquer them, piece by piece.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Off the Hook
Yesterday as I was teaching my second class, several struggled to stay awake.
Can I just say that kids sleeping in class is one of my greatest pet peeves? I work hard to keep my classes interesting. I'm not one of those teachers who stands up at the front and likes to hear myself talk. Now don't get me wrong. Sometimes I tell stories or elaborate a bit more than I should...but I definitely try to be aware of my audience so that I don't bore them to tears...or sleep--as the case may be.
And so I said, "Clifford, stay awake! Sit up!" And he struggled to open his eyes as he sat up a little straighter in his desk.
Thomas said, "Mrs. Seals, it's not that we don't like your class. It's just that it's the last class of the day. We're tired."
"I know," I said empathetically, and meaning it. I mean, it's almost 3:00 and these kids have been going strong since 8:00. Their days are filled with activity from morning 'til night. By the time I get them, it's like pulling teeth to get anything out of them. They give me pat answers; they lack enthusiasm regardless of how hard I try to find an engaging topic; they beg to get out early. It's the worst time slot for teaching that I've ever experienced.
And so, as the class and I had a discussion about how tired they are by the end of the day and how frustrating it can be from my angle to try to engage them, my iPad, which I was holding as I was showing them something on the big screen and using Apple TV to do it, decided to try acrobatics and did a flip off of my magnetic keyboard that keeps it in place right onto the floor...
and shattered.
You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me.
"I just broke my iPad," I said.
My kids were so empathetic as several have broken their screens. "It's okay, Mrs. Seals," one of them piped up. "Mr. Ratzlaff knows how to fix it. But he doesn't have any more screens at the moment." (How did he know that??)
And so, class continued. We went back to discussing how to do a demonstration speech by looking at various things on the big screen via my shattered iPad. I veered my finger away from the bottom of the screen as little shards of glass pricked my finger when I got too close. The cracked glass began a spider web that threatened to take over my screen any moment.
Finally, my students were busily working together in groups on a project that would take awhile and so I sneaked down to Mr. Ratzlaff's office to face my fate. "If it makes you feel any better, I broke a screen once, too," he said sympathetically, and then told me he would order a new screen and let me know when it arrived.
And so now here I sit, peering through the cracks in the screen to see the words before me. But that's okay. A new screen is on its way.
Whew! Off the hook.
Later that afternoon, Jace ran in and said he was going to play basketball, his beloved sport. And so off he went around 6:00 and I thought nothing about it. Nevermind that it's Monday. Nevermind that 6:30 is looming.
I was skyping a friend of mine, chattering away about nothing, laughing, mindless of the world outside of my broken iPad and my friend on the other side...when a car pulled into my driveway and honked three times. Jace jumped out and flew in. "Mom! Pathfinders!!"
Oh. My. Gosh.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!?!?!?!
"Gotta go!" I said to my friend, pushing "end" simultaneously. (Poor thing. She probably still wonders what in the world is going on at the Seals home.) And so, as it was now 6:37 and we are late, I began screaming, "Jace! Get your shirt on! Jace! Hurry up! We're Late! JACE!!! Where are you?? J-A-C-E!!!!!!!!"
"MOM! Stop Screaming! I'm thirsty!!"
He was in the kitchen guzzling water.
"We don't have time to get a drink! Get your shirt on! Get out in the car! Let's Go!! Bring the water with you!!! HURRY!!!!"
I flew out the door to the car, honked like a crazy woman, until at last Jace came out, still gulping water, and not moving nearly fast enough for me.
But...we got there just as they were lining up to head to the field up at the grade school for a game of kickball.
We made it.
Thank you, Laurie, for reminding me. If it wasn't for you, I would have once again forgotten about Pathfinders. I have lost my brains. But thankfully? You haven't.
And so, for the second time that day, I was...off the hook.
Whew!
Can I just say that kids sleeping in class is one of my greatest pet peeves? I work hard to keep my classes interesting. I'm not one of those teachers who stands up at the front and likes to hear myself talk. Now don't get me wrong. Sometimes I tell stories or elaborate a bit more than I should...but I definitely try to be aware of my audience so that I don't bore them to tears...or sleep--as the case may be.
And so I said, "Clifford, stay awake! Sit up!" And he struggled to open his eyes as he sat up a little straighter in his desk.
Thomas said, "Mrs. Seals, it's not that we don't like your class. It's just that it's the last class of the day. We're tired."
"I know," I said empathetically, and meaning it. I mean, it's almost 3:00 and these kids have been going strong since 8:00. Their days are filled with activity from morning 'til night. By the time I get them, it's like pulling teeth to get anything out of them. They give me pat answers; they lack enthusiasm regardless of how hard I try to find an engaging topic; they beg to get out early. It's the worst time slot for teaching that I've ever experienced.
And so, as the class and I had a discussion about how tired they are by the end of the day and how frustrating it can be from my angle to try to engage them, my iPad, which I was holding as I was showing them something on the big screen and using Apple TV to do it, decided to try acrobatics and did a flip off of my magnetic keyboard that keeps it in place right onto the floor...
and shattered.
You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me.
"I just broke my iPad," I said.
My kids were so empathetic as several have broken their screens. "It's okay, Mrs. Seals," one of them piped up. "Mr. Ratzlaff knows how to fix it. But he doesn't have any more screens at the moment." (How did he know that??)
And so, class continued. We went back to discussing how to do a demonstration speech by looking at various things on the big screen via my shattered iPad. I veered my finger away from the bottom of the screen as little shards of glass pricked my finger when I got too close. The cracked glass began a spider web that threatened to take over my screen any moment.
Finally, my students were busily working together in groups on a project that would take awhile and so I sneaked down to Mr. Ratzlaff's office to face my fate. "If it makes you feel any better, I broke a screen once, too," he said sympathetically, and then told me he would order a new screen and let me know when it arrived.
And so now here I sit, peering through the cracks in the screen to see the words before me. But that's okay. A new screen is on its way.
Whew! Off the hook.
Later that afternoon, Jace ran in and said he was going to play basketball, his beloved sport. And so off he went around 6:00 and I thought nothing about it. Nevermind that it's Monday. Nevermind that 6:30 is looming.
I was skyping a friend of mine, chattering away about nothing, laughing, mindless of the world outside of my broken iPad and my friend on the other side...when a car pulled into my driveway and honked three times. Jace jumped out and flew in. "Mom! Pathfinders!!"
Oh. My. Gosh.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!?!?!?!
"Gotta go!" I said to my friend, pushing "end" simultaneously. (Poor thing. She probably still wonders what in the world is going on at the Seals home.) And so, as it was now 6:37 and we are late, I began screaming, "Jace! Get your shirt on! Jace! Hurry up! We're Late! JACE!!! Where are you?? J-A-C-E!!!!!!!!"
"MOM! Stop Screaming! I'm thirsty!!"
He was in the kitchen guzzling water.
"We don't have time to get a drink! Get your shirt on! Get out in the car! Let's Go!! Bring the water with you!!! HURRY!!!!"
I flew out the door to the car, honked like a crazy woman, until at last Jace came out, still gulping water, and not moving nearly fast enough for me.
But...we got there just as they were lining up to head to the field up at the grade school for a game of kickball.
We made it.
Thank you, Laurie, for reminding me. If it wasn't for you, I would have once again forgotten about Pathfinders. I have lost my brains. But thankfully? You haven't.
And so, for the second time that day, I was...off the hook.
Whew!
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