A Place on the Wall

We moved to North Carolina in 2010--the year Savana graduated from high school. As she had recently gotten her senior pictures, we hung an 11x14 in a nice frame on the living room wall in our new home.

And then in 2013, Darian's senior picture hung beside Savana's.

All that's left is Jace.

2022.

Jace asks me regularly, "When is my picture going to hang on the wall?"

This past Christmas when we were at Mom's house, we three girls were standing in Mom's bedroom and Lori started laughing at this absolutely horrific photo that Mom has plastered on her wall. At the time, I was in 7th grade, Tami was a senior, and Lori was in college. It was taken at Olan Mills and hung in our living room for years. Thankfully, it has since graduated to a distant corner in Mom's bedroom.

The four of us (as Mom came in to see what we were laughing about) gazed at that photo for a bit, laughing and telling Mom that it really is abominable...but she won't be daunted. "I like it," she said firmly, and that was that. It is, after all, her bedroom--and, for that matter, her picture.

In our hallway, I have a collection of photos over the years. One of my favorites is of the girls when they were 2 1/2 and 6 months old. Savana is lying on the floor--Darian propped over her back--and they are both looking up at the photographer with the most adorable smiles. It's a perfect picture that belies the ensuing drama. Just after the photographer snapped the photo, we all noticed a horrific odor hovering over us like a thick cloud. We were in the midst of potty training Savana and ... Oops.

Grandma is there in my hall as well--a photo taken a couple of years before she passed. When I walk by, I often stop and gaze into her eyes. I miss you, Grandma.

On the other side of the hallway we have a collection of old timer photos. One of them was taken on Roy's and my first year anniversary as, according to the list that outlines what gift you give for each anniversary, the first year is paper. We lived in Loveland at the time and so we travelled 30 miles up the Rocky Mountains to a small community nestled up there called Estes Park. Now, Estes Park is well-known and visited by millions every year--we probably wouldn't even recognize it anymore. But at the time, it was still cozy and quaint and one of our favorite Saturday afternoon agendas. That afternoon we took that photo and then headed to our favorite spot that served healthy smoothies before healthy smoothies were the rage. Of course, that was the only year that we paid attention to the list that outlines the appropriate anniversary gift, but it's definitely one of my most treasured anniversaries.

A few years later we went back to Estes Park and had another older timer photo taken. This time, Savana was 18 months old and I was pregnant with Darian. Savana has a sore above her eye as she, that morning, ran into the corner of a piano at the home of the friends we were visiting at the time, and? We'd just found out we were having another healthy baby girl.

And the list continues--photos that reflect stages of life, memories of our beloveds, the best of times.

This summer I will have a new set of photos that reflect yet another milestone: the wedding of our daughter. I am thinking that this corner of senior photos that hangs in my living room? It may very well be time to rethink it. The girls may graduate to the hallway and the living room corner may herald an entirely different look: current photos of my kids, a photo that reflects our expanding family.

Maybe Jace won't have to wait until 2022 to actually find his place on the living room wall after all.

A Perfect Storm

Winter Storm Jonas blew in with fury Thursday night. As we had plenty of warning, I packed up my computer and worked from home for as long as I could stand it on Friday before the snow called my name. Jonas gifted us with well over a foot of snow and it just kept coming down all Friday as we, bundled in coats and scarves and hats and boots, played in a winter wonderland.

On Saturday we bundled up again and walked down icy roads to church where we sat with the academy students and staff. It was cozy, all of us in jeans and boots, and the pastor led out in praise music with his guitar and then gave a short sermon before we headed over to the cafeteria for lunch.

Jace is in heaven. He adores the snow and spends every possible waking moment in it. Guerin and Savana created a sledding slope from the top of the hill in our yard that goes across the road and then ends with a jump. If one gets enough speed, it is just high enough to land you on your tailbone with a mighty thump. Not exactly my cup of tea but the kids seemed to love it!

In the afternoon Savana and I baked homemade cinnamon rolls together, their yumminess filling the entire house with the aroma of baking cinnamon. Oh my word--so scrumptious and gooey and perfectly delicious.

And then last night when our little world was enveloped in darkness, Jace bundled up one more time to head outdoors. "What's your plan this time, Jace?" I asked.

"Mom, I just have to enjoy every minute. I wish I could stay outside all night. I love the snow!" I suggested that he see if Zach, his neighbor buddy, could sled and so he headed out the door and up the road to their home. Awhile later, I looked outside to see them barreling down an icy road on Zach's sled, their laughter and happy chatter piercing the stillness. I bundled up to check on them as it was 18 degrees outside, and by the time I got to them, they had thrown themselves in the snow, snow angel position, and were gazing at the stars.

"Hey, boys! It's 18 degrees out here!"

They laughed. "No, we're warm! We're just fine!" And then they headed for Zach's house for hot lemonade and a rousing game of Pick Up Sticks.

It has been a magical two days.

On Saturday morning, Roy, Jace and I bundled up to clear the sidewalks and forge a path down the ice-covered driveway so that we could leave our house without, you know, dying. (Ok--that's a bit of an exaggeration. Roy cleared the sidewalks while Jace played with Piper, the two of them bounding in the snow, and I pretended to help...a little.)

It was perfectly quiet out. A few birds were singing but other than that, it was stillness. Perfect stillness. As I stood on my porch looking out at the world of wonder that stretched out in all directions before me I couldn't help but look up, to listen, to stop, for just a bit.

I couldn't help but know that this perfect stillness is the Hand of God.

Be still and know that I am God. Psalm 46:10

Following the North Star

I've always been amazed by the stars. During my high school years, I worked at Wewoka Woods--a summer camp in Oklahoma--and many nights I walked out to the lake's dam and lay down on the grass, staring up at the stars. They inspired me, reminded me of how small and insignificant I really am, and gave me confidence in a Presence far greater than myself.

Oklahoma skies are endless and clear and one can see stars in all directions for as far as the eye can see. I remember some times that people would point out the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, the North Star. I found it more confusing than not, as stars glittered the open sky and I had a hard time making sense of anything. Eventually, I actually did figure out the Little Dipper--or maybe it was the Big Dipper? Regardless, I can still find it if the night sky is clear. Impressive, I know.

But the North Star? That one alludes me. Several stars shine brightly and I have quite a time figuring out exactly which one is truly...you know...the North one. It's clear that if I were lost out in the wild blue yonder and my survival depended on my ability to find the North Star and follow it home, well...it might not end well.

Jacque (my friend from California--even though the word Friend just doesn't do it justice) and I were recently talking about values. What is the One Value we hold most sacred in our lives, that without it I wouldn't be me, a value that encompasses my very being--my North Star. We started with a list of values and in order to narrow it down I began by circling the values that I believed in. You know --

Faith
Family
Gratitude
Compassion
Generosity
Authenticity
Wholehearted
Courage

And so many many more. I circled to my heart's content. I believed in ALL of those values! Of course I stand for faith family and gratitude and the list continues. Those are ME!

But the next step? Figuring out how those values play out in your life. Do I believe in them? Or do I encompass them. Do my actions and my words live them.

And that, my friend, is a whole other story.

That is where the rubber meets the road.

Suddenly some of my circled values were merely circled. When it comes to actions to portray those values?

I got nothin'.

I wrestled with this for quite some time. It consumed my thoughts, made me stop and take notice of my life.

This isn't a story I intended to put on a public blog but it perfectly explains what I am talking about. After more sleepless nights than I can count, Roy and I made the heartrending decision to switch Jace to a public school: Enka Middle. It is a long story and I will spare the details. But I will say, it was a huge change for Jace's life.

Jace began his schooling career in a tiny little school in Missouri. If memory serves me correctly, they had a total of 18 students--maybe 21. Anyway, we moved here as Jace went into 2nd grade and this little school on our campus seemed quite large in comparison as they boast around 60 students. So my point is, Jace only knows one classroom, one teacher at a time (for the most part), 3 boys in his class to call friends. His world has been limited, narrow.

Enka Middle boasts around 300 students in the 7th grade and 900 students in the entire middle school. Each class has its own teacher; students have lockers; hallways swarm. It's like moving to a whole new planet.

Once we made the decision to switch Jace to a different school, his eyes were straight ahead. He never wavered--not once. That first day, probably the scariest of his life, he determinedly threw that backpack over his shoulder and walked out the door, wordless, face set. Roy drove him to school, walked into the main office, and watched Jace leave, Roy's heart in his throat as he drove home.

In order for Jace to switch schools, he has to take the bus. He is the last pickup on the way to school and the first drop off on the way home so it's not too terrible. However, we intended to give him that first week before he had to ride it. Day 2? Jace was on the bus. He wanted to experience it, to see what he had to face, to get it behind him.

My son? He embodies courage. In the words of my dad, he takes the bull by the horns and he does it.

As I wrestled with Jacque that evening on the phone regarding my own North Star, I finally came to grips with who I am at my core. It was freeing and I realized in that moment, that so many values come together through a single one. That when your North Star lights the way, it brings vision, purpose, power. It defines what I stand for.

I am following my North Star. I may get lost sometimes. I may lose sight and wander in the middle of nowhere for awhile...but that's okay. That's how life rolls.

When I remember who I am and what I am about, my North Star will lead me home.

Within Reach of Every Hand

 This morning when I drove to work through the darkness at 6:45 am, it was cold. Like 32 degrees cold. Roy warmed up the car for me so that I could blast the heat once inside. Yeah. He's nice like that.

Anyway, once I got to work I rode the elevator up to the 2nd floor where I work and did my normal early morning routine: log in to my computer, put away my things, throw my lunch in the frig, chat it up for a quick minute with Heather and Hanna...that sort of thing. And in the midst of all of this, I remembered that I had a folder that I needed to run to the basement. So, grabbing the folder off of my desk, I headed back to the elevator at the same time as one of the social workers who I don't see too often and really don't know at all. But it was clear that she planned to join my on the elevator.

And because sometimes I am just not a nice person, I immediately growled inside. Because this worker looked cranky and difficult and I immediately thought--oh boy. I need to make some happy conversation in the elevator and she's not going to make it easy.

Because you know, when it's just you and one other person in an elevator and nobody says anything it's rather a-w-k-w-a-r-d. Really. I kind of struggle in those situations: should I stare at my phone? At the door? At the floor? Should I say something like 'It's a nice day outside, yeah?' Or 'how are you doing today?' That sort of thing...But when it's someone that you actually see on occasion, even if you don't know them, it seems especially awkward to just stare elsewhere.

So all of this was running through my head as I stepped into the elevator with this girl--the crabby difficult girl.

And as the elevator started heading down, I looked at her and said, "First floor?" She nodded. And then I noticed that she was carrying a warm cup of coffee. The steam rose from the Starbucks cup, enveloping me in a sweet aroma that made me crave its contents, all for myself.

"Mm...that smells divine," I swooned, nodding at her cup.

"Yeah," she said. "There's a man who slept in the stairwell of the parking garage last night. I figured he needs something to warm him up."

And just then, the elevator door opened and she quickly exited, leaving me speechless with my harsh judgment.

Because...

I thought she was cranky when really she was far more considerate than me.
I thought I would scramble for words while she scrambled to help another.

I judged while she selflessly gave.

Love is a fruit in season at all times and within reach of every hand.
-Mother Teresa

A Whole Lot of Freedom

Recently I've had The Great Debate going on in my head:

Do all people do the best they can.

A large piece of me wants to scream NOOOO from the rooftops. You know--what about murderers? Serial killers? Parents on drugs who neglect their children?

Those are the obvious questions.

But then, one has to consider the more subtle crimes:

What about those who lose their temper and yell at their kids? What about those who bully or are mean-spirited to some but not others? What about those who can have road rage at times? What about those who don't exercise because it feels good to sit on the couch? What about those who damage their bodies with their choices?

And the list goes on.

And what results is a whole lot of judgment: judgment of myself and judgment of others.

Because when it comes down to it? We all fail; we all fall short; we are all human.

I am a big believer that if I were born that person with their genetic code and as a victim of the parenting they received, in the environment they grew up in, I would be no different. In fact, I may not even be as good as they are. We don't understand the trials and burdens of other people. We don't know the god they serve. People do things that we don't understand--and honestly, we probably do things that others don't get. It's just the way life rolls.

One time I taught a girl--we shall call her Lisa--who had such a chip on her shoulder. She was angry and difficult; she acted out constantly. She was disruptive and loud and negative. And? I couldn't stand her. She was a junior at one of the boarding academies where I was teaching at the time, and I made it my focus to love all my kids. That wasn't hard for me--I chose teaching because I DO love kids. I find teens especially enjoyable. I love their stage of life where they are beginning to think about their futures and their goals,  yet they still have so many childlike qualities.

Anyway, regardless, I didn't like Lisa. And this bothered me. It kept me up at night, wondering how to reach her; how to find the good in her. And so, I began to talk to her when I would see her on campus. I showed interest and it wasn't long before the chips fell off her shoulder and I began to see the true Lisa behind the mask of bitterness and anger. And I realized, quickly, that this girl had withstood a lot of judgment and pain--far more than a 16 year old should endure; far more than I, as a mid-30's girl--had certainly endured in my life. And to this day? Lisa is one of my most cherished students.

That is, of course, a story that makes me look really good, but I've had plenty of failures; plenty of students I never did really get; plenty of students who walked out my classroom door and never looked back. That's the truth about teaching: you win some; you lose some. But I do know this: I did my best. And sometimes my best simply wasn't good enough.

When I look back over my life, I have things I regret. I made decisions that were poor; said things I shouldn't have said; done things I shouldn't have done. I treated others poorly because of the way I viewed their choices or because of hurt feelings or maybe because of something they did to a good friend of mine.

I wasn't perfect. And clearly I'm still not perfect.

But I am perfectly human.

Regardless? I believe I did the best I could. I didn't know what I know now. I needed to grow, I needed maturity, I needed perspective. I did the best I could at the time with what I knew.

And if that is true for me, it must be true for others. People do the best they can with what they know.

And when I wrap my thoughts around that, it releases all judgment. Suddenly it doesn't matter how others behave. It doesn't matter how they treat me because maybe they see something I don't. Maybe their background doesn't allow kindness for what they don't understand. Maybe their God is exacting and requires a whole lot of measuring up.

Accepting this ideal that people do the best they can does NOT mean I shouldn't have boundaries. I absolutely should have strong boundaries that protect myself and my family. It's not okay to be mistreated, but I believe that when we look deeper at how others may act, and consider the thought that they are doing their best, it releases a whole lot of grace and mercy rather than judgment and anger.

So, my New Year's Resolution for 2016? I am going to adopt this philosophy. I am going to focus on creating joy in my own life. I am going to focus on creating boundaries so that I can wholeheartedly say no and wholeheartedly say yes. I am going to keep my eyes on myself and worry far more about my own reactions and words and thoughts than those of others around me.

I am going to believe that others are doing the best they can...and? I will believe that I am doing the best I can as well.

That sounds like a whole lot of freedom to me.

To laugh often and much; 

To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;

To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends;

To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others;

To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition;

To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.

This is to have succeeded.

--- inaccurately attributed to
 Ralph Waldo Emerson