Spectacle

This summer, I went to the hospital to see Lindsey and her new baby. On my way out, my feet kind of steered themselves off the elevator and on to the second floor, down the narrow, windowed hall, past the stairway to the long hall that lead to the NICU. I sat down on one of the benches and stared through the glass doors and into the ward. I smelled the familiar smells. I watched the familiar sight of parents walking by and going through the drill. Sign in. Stick the thermometer under your tongue. Record the reading. Hand-sanitize. Get your key and go see your baby, hoping and praying with every step that she is well. I wondered how early their baby was.

And despite my best efforts to keep myself together, I sat on the bench and cried. I cried for my Lucy. I cried for the woman I was and the man my husband was then. I cried for the parents who were in the throes of this struggle. And I cried for their babies. And in any other setting, I might have made a spectacle of myself, but here, seeing someone you don't know in tears is just part of NICU culture. Because when your newborn looks like this, it's hard to hear even the doctors and nurses over all your worry. You can't see it in the picture, but Lucy has an IV in her head. (There's a hole in the hat, which I kept.) That thing on her face is called a bubble C-pap. There is also a feeding tube running up her nose. The sensor things taped to her torso are measuring breathing or blood flow or something. There is a blood pressure cuff on her foot and I can't remember what that thick tube in the back is for.

Last week, as a part of our connect group story, I read John 9:1-3:

As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man who had been blind from birth. "Rabbi," his disciples asked him, "why was this man born blind? Was it because of his own sins or his parents' sins?" "It was not because of his sins or his parents' sins," Jesus answered. "This happened so the power of God could be seen in him."

 So the power of God could be seen in her.

October 22, 2012, after a 19-day stay in the NICU, we took Lucy home. Within a year, she was caught up with her peers in size, and within two years, she was caught up with them entirely. And from the very moment of her birth, she has been a testament to the power of God.

Keep that up, Lucy Jean.

The Worst Thing about Teaching

At varying times during my almost ten years of teaching, I would have said one of these was the worst thing about teaching:

• dealing with unreasonable parents
• not being able to have a real lunch break and get out of the building
• having to do twice the amount of work to be gone instead of just being gone like normal people
• PAPERWORK
•  knowing what a kid needs but not being able to give it to him because of time, space, lack of programs, etc.

But the worst thing about teaching is not on this list. The worst thing about teaching is saying goodbye.

I said goodbye to #1 at the end of my second year. She had taken me under her wing when I started, which was in the middle of the school year. I had no idea what I was doing, and she kindly and gently guided me through the grade book system, the attendance program, the SIT process, how to be a contributing member of a team, etc. She was the one who ran our team. When she left, I was sad and apprehensive about her replacement.

I said goodbye to #2 three years later. She was kind, quiet, sweet, organized (almost to a fault) and dependable. She was the one in team meeting with impeccable notes. worked hard, loved kids, and was a very good teacher. It was hard to see her go, and again, I was apprehensive about the new teacher coming in.

#3, which happened two yeas after that, was rough. He was my team content teacher - he taught Language Arts, I taught reading. We collaborated many times throughout the year. He was the one who kept the mood light on our team, constantly coming up with double meanings to words and phrases (example: "I'll PLC you later," accompanied by a cheesy grin and a finger point). I knew when he left it was going to be hard. Indeed, on his last day I remember delaying coming back to the pod and hoping he had left already. He hadn't. He had waited for me to say goodbye. I remember crying when he hugged me, crying when I watched him walk out the front door, and crying all the way home.

When I really think about #4, it's hard not to tear up, even though it's been more than two years since she left. At first I didn't think we'd ever be friends, but by the time she was ready to move on, I counted (and still count) her among my very best of friends. She was good with kids, good with content, and great as a team player. She had good ideas, a good memory, and a great knack for keeping us on track and productive in team. I often found myself in her room during plan time and we ate lunch together almost every day. When I realized that her leaving was a possibility, I remember feeling sick at my stomach. Indeed, our math teacher told me, "I feel like I should get her a congratulations card and you a sympathy card." That is exactly how it felt. I knew she was doing the right thing for her, and that probably should have made things easier, but it didn't. I remember walking down to her room on the last day and hugging her. We both cried and then took this walk of sorrow down the hall and out the door. I sobbed the whole way home and for the several days. And I still miss her CONSTANTLY.

I'm not sure how to talk about #5. #5 is a rarity among teachers. A 32 year long teaching career. Been in the district forever and been in the building since it was built. Seen generations of kids come through (including mine). Knows the name of every staff member, including the night custodians, past and present. Knows every person in town and their grandma and their dog's name. As a team member, he was our encourager. He wrote little notes and put them in our boxes. He would send emails constantly telling us what great jobs we were doing. One time he felt bad about a comment he made so he brought me donuts the next morning. He brought our kids gifts at Christmas and sometimes would just swing by the house to check on us. His enthusiasm was constant. He noticed things about kids that we would have never picked up on. He kept EVERYTHING, so we could always ask for the schedule we used last year, or the order we used for the PR party, or whatever. He was always telling kids that this was going to be their best year ever. He was always telling kids that today was going to be their best DAY ever. And kids believed him. He made kids feel like they were important, like they were good, like they could do anything. As has become my habit, I put off my goodbye until I was ready to leave. I started bawling before I even left my classroom. By the time I made it to his, I was in full-fledged break-down-sobbing mode. He hugged me, told me what a great teacher and mom I was, and told me that next year is going to be the best year ever.

Isn't there some sort of principle that says things get easier each time you do it? It definitely doesn't apply to losing co-workers. And co-workers isn't the right phrase. It's like losing a hand, or an arm, better yet. The older I get and the more people with whom I work, the more I find that having people you love and trust working with you in your efforts to do what is best for kids is a rarity. A luxury. The best place to be. Every person on this list has gone on to do greater things in their lives. Things that were right for them, their families, and their careers. I am happy for them and their successes, as they have all been and will continue to be wonderful in their new jobs.

But this is most definitely the worst thing about teaching.

Kindergarten Round Up

This post is only partly about kindergarten round-up. It's mostly about what it means to show up.

The morning of Friday, April 10th, dawned bright and clear. This was the day my son had been waiting for for MONTHS. Every day he would wake up and say, "Mommy, is today kindergarten round up?" and I would say, "No, son, not until April 10th." And he would say, "How many days Mommy?"

Every.
Single.
Day.

So when it finally came, we were excited. Actually, excited is an understatement.

 

This is his face as we prepared to pull out of the driveway that morning. If you've followed me for long, you know my son does not take good pictures. He hates them and does not smile. Guess how long it took me to get this one? Yup - one take. The boy didn't stop smiling all day.

 

I had arranged to leave school early enough to take Charlie to lunch. We went to Red Robbin, which he did not understand. Food was not important. Why are we WAITING? he asked. This is taking FOREVER! he said. Finally, and even though we were half an hour early, we went to kindergarten round-up.

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't for the teachers to whisk my boy off and send me to the gym. I was a little nervous when he left me, but not him! He posed for one more picture, and he was off!

 Now, I need to explain that I brought my mother along with me. I did this for a few reasons. 1) She listens much better than I do. I tend to get caught up in things like looking at the principal's fingernails and wondering if they are real or if they are press-ons or if she goes to a nail salon and does that filler thing. I tend to hear a phrase and think of better ways to word it. I tend to start to count the ceiling tiles and then remember that ceiling tiles don't matter and what matters is what is coming out of the mouth of the person who is up front talking. My mother, bless her, does not have this problem. 2) My husband was unable to come. And when I say unable, I mean he was golfing in Oklahoma with my dad, my brother, and my uncles. It was a fundraiser for my cousin's volleyball team and it was a really cool, relational opportunity for him to get to spend some time with my family. I was happy to send him. Really.

Back to the gym. We sat at a table and were joined shortly by two women. We made nervous small talk and eventually got around to introducing ourselves. I introduced my mother and felt the need to explain why I brought her. I said something like, "I brought my mom because my husband couldn't come. He's golfing." I'm not sure I needed to say any of this, but as soon as it was out my mouth, I wished I hadn't said the last part. It made my hard-working, very loving and excellent father-husband sound terrible. Go golfing instead of going to your kid's kindergarten round-up?

I felt the need to elaborate.

"He's really a great dad, though. This was just on the schedule and it's in Oklahoma, and it was going to be awkward to cancel, so, well, you know."

"Well," said the lady at the end of the table, "He's doing better than my husband. He left when my son was two."

"And yours did better than mine," said the woman across from me. "Mine left when my son was 6 months old."

You know how when people are passed out, someone will throw a bucket of cold water on them and they suddenly snap right up? That's how I felt at that moment. The men in my life are reliable. My dad. My grandpa. My uncles. My brother. My cousins. My husband. Even my friends. They have always shown up. I listened to these women continue to talk about how their ex had neglected to be a husband to them and a father to their sons. I listened to them lament the absence of a strong, upright male presence in the lives of their sons. I listened to them talk about how hard it was to do ALL OF IT by themselves. I don't know if I had ever really thought about what that would be like until that moment. Don't get me wrong - I had thought about it. I frequently thought about it when my husband was working long hours and he hadn't seen the kids in three days and I was doing pick up and drop off and meals and baths and bedtimes and teeth-brushing and butt-wiping and all of that by myself. I thought, This is what it's like to be a single mom. But I was wrong. Being a single mom would be so much worse. The emotional toll - the weight of all the decisions, not having anyone else to talk to, feeling like you are a failure and not having someone to pull you back up to your feet - I simply can't imagine it.

And I kept thinking about it, even as the counselor, the secretary, the teachers, the librarian, the school nurse, the bus driver, the speech path lady, and the principal got up to talk. I thought about it as I was dismissed from the gym and went to gather my ecstatic 5 year old, who couldn't wait to show me all the things he had made and tell me all the places he had been. I thought about it as I picked up my daughter and drove home, as I prepared dinner, as I put the kids to bed by myself, knowing that my husband would walk through the door before I went to sleep. I wondered why my husband showed up and theirs didn't. I wondered why my kids have a dad and theirs don't. And I was thankful for the millionth time that my husband loves God and me and our son and our daughter. I don't have to worry about him showing up. He will show up for me and for them and for us because he loves us and he wants us and he doesn't know any other way.

I wrestle with that question - that tension. Why do hard, terrible things happen to some people and for others it's smooth sailing? I don't know. All I really know that I am very, very grateful to have dependable men in my life. Particularly my husband, who always always always shows up.

Book: Carry On, Warrior

Carry on, Warrior: Thoughts on Life Unarmed

by Glennon Doyle Melton

Length: 266 pages

Format: Hardback
Price: Free - checked out from the public library

How I heard about it: from Jolie's review and Lindsey's review

NOTE: I was unsure exactly what format to follow for this book review, since it is a non-fiction book.  So I went back through my book archives to find the last non-fiction book I read and see how I did that one. IN THE GOING ON THREE YEARS I HAVE HAD THIS BLOG, I HAVE NOT ONCE WRITTEN A REVIEW ON A NON-FICTION BOOK. AND SINCE I REVIEW EVERY BOOK I READ, GOOD OR BAD, IT FOLLOWS THAT I HAVE NOT READ A SINGLE NON-FICTION BOOK IN NEARLY THREE YEARS!  I know - pathetic.  Please don't tell anyone that I am a READING TEACHER.

Premise: This book is a memoir of the life of 30-something Glennon Doyle Melton. As a recovering bulimic, alcoholic, and drug user, she has seen her fair share of yuck.  She addresses friendship, idiocy, heartache, faith, love, and nearly everything in between with truth and authenticity. And a fair amount of snark.

My thoughts: Given that this is my first non-fiction book in THREE YEARS (probably longer), and that I wasn't sure how to format this review, I asked Lindsey if I could please copy her format, which is where she picks favorite quotes and comments on them. She graciously consented. So that's what I'm going to do, complete with citations so that I practice what I preach at my seventh graders.

"Marriage is hard and holy work" (7).

I liked this phrase because I have many times heard marriage referred to as "hard work" but never "holy." Just to be clear, I looked up the definition of the word.  Holy is "having a spiritually pure quality."  I like that.

 "The only constant family rule is that everyone has to keep showing up" (83).

This and the section preceding it spoke to me because lately, I've been seriously considering not showing up in a couple of areas.  It's what happens when all the fight goes out of me weakness wins, which seems to be happening more frequently instead of less.  But really, showing up is half the battle.  Keep showing up.

"If I seem noncompetitive, if I seem as if I don't care if I'm the 'best' parent or housekeeper or dresser or whathaveyou, it's not because I don't care about being important [...] Why would I care about competing in any other category when I am already a child of God? Why would I argue over a penny when I have already won the lottery?" (113).

The truth is, I care about being important. I want my husband to think I am the best mother. I want my mother-in-law to think I am the best housekeeper.  I want everyone to think I have it all put together and mastered and down pat, because the truth is that I have NOTHING together and mastered and down pat, but if I look like I do, maybe they will think it's true. Why do I care about what others think? I don't know. I read this and wished I could feel this way all the time. I'm going to try thinking of it this way, because with an eternal perspective like this, it's hard to believe that any of that is of any importance at all.

"Sounds a lot like the Psalms, doesn't it?" (203).  (She is speaking as Jesus to the Christians who are badmouthing rap music.)

This just made me giggle. I personally HATE rap music (even that statement - "rap music" sounds like an oxymoron), but it's for snooty musical reasons, not snooty, religious ones.  I love this point because she was saying that rap is often an expression of confusion, suffering, and angst.  Why yes, yes it DOES sound an awful lot like Psalms!

"I'm not sure that being offended is a luxury that people who've been commanded to love each other can enjoy" (203).

This is something God has been working with me on for maybe ever. I am not good at letting things roll off.  I try, but as it turns out, I am rather sticky.  But here's where I think I am beginning to get on the right track: I understand that I can't simply chalk it up to "Well, that's just who I am. I'm sensitive." Um, no, I am indulging in the luxury of being offended. I NEED TO CHAAAAAAAAAAANGE.  I need to take a bath in some spiritual Goo-Gone and put on the garment of love.  Repeating this statement to myself is a good start. I feel like tattooing it on the back of my hand so I can see it many, many times each day.  Yes.  Peeling off layers of sticky.

"...she's more of an 'ahh, there you are' person than a 'HEY! Here I am!' person" (209). (speaking of a friend)

Those are my favorite kind of people. Wait - those are everyone's favorite kind of people.  And for good reason.

"Because there are things we should do, regardless of whether they are our favorite 'things' or not, because they help us grow and rest and connect with other people" (216).

Preach IT. Like stopping in the grocery store when I am running late and both my kids are screaming and all I want to do is get out of there as soon as possible but I see someone I know from the other end of the aisle and I know I should say hi but I don't want to.  Yep - like that.

And my favorite quote, which was stated many, many times throughout the book:

"Life is hard. But I have found that I can do hard things."

I can do hard things. I can do hard things. I can do hard things.  And if I can do hard ones, I can do medium ones, and certainly easy ones!  What CAN'T I do?  Which reminds me of Philippians 4:13, which I memorized as a child: "I can do all things through Him who gives me strength."  Yes. I can do.

My take: 9.5 out of 10 (scale here)
Overall, I loved this book.  There were moments where I had to say, "I don't agree with this AT ALL." Like when she states that God is "in" all people.  I believe that was true in the beginning, like, the Garden-of-Eden-beginning, but humanity lost the privilege of intimacy with God when it chose the apple.  Our nature is sinful, not divine.  God had to make a way for rightness with Himself through Jesus, and THAT is where God enters into humanity.  There were moments where I was conflicted - very tempted to believe what she was saying, even though I felt it was in direct contradiction to what I believe to be true, like whether to believe ALL of the Bible. But mostly, I felt like she was speaking directly to me, to my heart, to my life, to my soul.  And it was EXACTLY what I needed in this, to use her term, "brutiful" phase of my life.

Getting Married Young

I probably have at least a dozen half-written blog posts in my Blogger.  I start off great and then, I don't know, get busy or bored with the topic.  This is one of the ones I started long ago and decided to finish up this morning.

Junior Year? Ish?

Lindsey sent me a link to this post about the benefits of getting married young, wanting my thoughts.  Since my husband and I were both 20 when we married, I qualify as someone who got married young. And I love that fact. I love that we grew up together. I love that he was my first date, my first kiss, my first and only boyfriend.  I love that we went through high school and college together.  I love that he proposed to me when we were 19, and we married the next summer.  I love that I have watched him go from a tall, shy, and sometimes awkward teenager to a confident, intelligent, caring man, husband, and father.  There is something magical about that transformation, and I am glad to have been a part of it. 

Prom

However, I take a bit of issue with this article.  I don't think it's particularly well-written (SNOB ALERT), and, on behalf of all people who have a wonderful romantic love story, I kind of resent the fact that she implied with the last "perk" that those who don't get married young do not have a great love story.  I know lots of great ones that happened later in life.  One of them was my choir teacher in high school, who went to a costume party dressed as Sylvester and met his future wife, a woman in her 30s, who was dressed as Tweety Bird.  Romance has nothing to do with your age.  I also think it would behoove this author to take a look at the other side - all the things that suck about getting married early:

Wedding - June 19, 2004

1. Money. Um...you have none.  And (generally speaking) you have less working knowledge of money.  You have not had enough time to manage money-making on your own, and when you combine forces with someone who has the same problem, it just makes things that more difficult.  Oh, if I could only have another shot at this one...
2. School. You aren't done with it.  And you have to work (in my case, three jobs) to support yourselves.  Enough said.
3. Stuff. You have no stuff, so you register, and because you have no experience because you've always lived with your parents or in the dorms, you have no stinking clue what to register for.  I registered for cheap crap because I didn't want to offend anyone.  I walked around the store like, "Oh, that's cool," and used the gun with nearly no discrimination.  If I had been older and wiser, I would have gone for less quantity and more quality.
4. People. People think and say you are too young to be married (though I must say, in true teenager fashion, that only made me want to do it more).
5. Identity. You need to learn how to be you on your own before you can be you with someone else.

I love my story and wouldn't change it even given the opportunity, but my goodness, it was hard.  That said,

*Soap Box*
I certainly do not advocate this approach with others, and definitely won't with my own children.  I truly believe we are the exception to the rule, and we have been so so blessed.  We have been able to work through these issues and more by the grace of God only.  But really, the bottom line is that, no matter when you got married, no matter how much you love each other, no matter how "right" for each other you are, marriage is work.

I remember hearing this when I was young and thinking, "How unromantic.  I hope that's never us."  Oh, the naivete.  I simply couldn't imagine a time when I wasn't utterly head-over-heels, roses and rainbows, the-sun-shines-out-of-his-every-orifice in-love with the boy.  But I learned pretty quickly that those moments are not only possible, they are guaranteed.

But you know what the secret to a happy marriage is?  Loving the other person more than you love yourself.  In short, loving like Jesus, which is really the secret to a happy life, too, right?

*End Soap Box*

Another Daffodil Moment

I love my 3rd hour.  They are such a great, smart, bright group of kids.

And they definitely know how to get their teacher off task, and that is to ask her about her kids.  They call it "the 3rd hour magic."  It's actually pretty cute.

I told them about daffodil moments, which are moments where you are so overwhelmed with blessing that you just have to take a moment to step back and appreciate it.  I'm working on a way to weave this idea into a writing project where they identify their own daffodil moment.  I'd like to see what they come up with.

Anyway, I had another one today.  My son and I had just dropped my daughter off and we were driving to preschool.  It was still dark outside and it was very quiet in the car, and all of a sudden, from the back seat, I heard:

O say can you see
By the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed
At the twilight's last gleaming

It was the most amazing sound.  My son, bless him, is not much of a singer, and some of the words were completely butchered, as often happens with 4-year-olds who try to pronounce big words, but I understood exactly what he was doing - singing the national anthem.  He must have learned it in preschool, because we have not taught it to him.

As I listened to him sing, I began to tear up, thinking about how precious he is, and how blessed we are to be raising him here, in the United States of America - in a place where he can grow up to be anything he wants to be.  He has the privilege to go to school.  He will have the choice of his profession.  He doesn't have to work every day, picking raddishes and trying to sell them at market, like the little Uyghur (pronounced "Wee-gur") girl I'm reading about in The Vine Basket by Josanne La Valley.  It seems like there are so many people complaining about so many things going on in our country.  But isn't it great to think about all the things we do have?  Food? Shelter?  The freedom to go to church and worship as we please, or to speak about whatever we feel, or to choose to move to another town or city without having to acquire permission from the government?  How many rights and freedoms are guaranteed us by our Constitution?

As I listened to him sing, as I soaked up another daffodil moment, I was reminded of how  very blessed and thankful I am that my son gets to grow up here, in the land of the free and the home of the brave.

12 Days of Reflection - #12 Let. It. Go.

As a result of my excellent memory, my overly-analytical nature, and my many insecurities, I often find it difficult to let things go.  This is utterly baffling to my husband.  He is constantly telling me to "let it go."  I've come to really really hate this expression.  Over the years, I have tried various forms of "letting it go" only to end up more hurt and frustrated than I was when I started.  I feel like me and "letting it go" are in an ongoing wrestling match.

As you may have guessed, I have some specific issues - some certain things I just can't seem to overcome.  And why?  Why do I feel this need to hold on to anger? To hurts? To fears?  These are the things that destroy, not the things that build up.  These are barriers, roadblocks, poison to relationships, family, the heart.  My heart.

This revelation has taken several years.  (I've mentioned my tendency to be slow on the uptake...this is a prime example.)  It's taken my husband's countless, loving reminders.  It's taken friends like Kristin and Lindsey who handle similar situations with forgiveness, grace, and love, refusing to let things, whether big or small, hold them back.  It's taken sermon after sermon after sermon about this plank in my eye for me to recognize that it is, indeed, a plank in my eye.  A massive barrier between me and what's right.  And I've tried to overcome it - BELIEVE ME, I have tried.  But my tactics have always been poor.  Until about a month ago.

I can't really explain this well without giving details, so I'll just say this: up until then, my approach has been to try doing things.  Do this, do that, do this again, do that again.  And when it wouldn't work, I'd try it again.  And again.  And again.  It was incredibly wearing and SO frustrating because it was yielding absolutely zero in the way of results.  And it was leaving me emotionally exhausted.  And then, one day, there was what we in education like to call "a light bulb" or an "ah-hah!" moment.  It's that moment when the kid gets it.  And I realized my problem.  It was like I was back in high school and hacking away at the same stupid math problem and getting the wrong answer every single stinking time.  And then Mrs. Lane just sits down and says, "try this" and it's like the heavens open and angels descend with the "Hallelujah Chorus" loud on their lips.  I GET IT.

The simple answer? I cannot do.  I must choose.

I have to decide to let it go.  No amount of doing is ever going to make things right.  I could do until the end of time and nothing will change until I choose to
Let.
It.
Go.

I took a moment to choose to let it go.  But I am finding it is not a one-time decision.  Every time anger and resentment rear their ugly heads (which seems to happen a lot over the holidays), I have to choose to let it go.  Because the issue is with my heart - an internal struggle that could never be won externally, like I had been fighting it.

And in realizing this, I can't help but draw this parallel; we can do our entire lives and never be worthy of God's grace.  We could feed every poor person, house every homeless person, give away every dime we possess, learn all there is to know about God and never ever earn God's favor.  Because God's favor cannot be earned.  We are too flawed.  Too damaged.  Too in need of redemption.  We don't have an external issue - we have an internal issue.  But God loved us enough to not let us stay that way.  So he sent his Son to restore us.  To change us.  To right us.

But we must choose.

Christmas really is the most wonderful time of the year - a time to remember, and be forever thankful, that Perfect God loved sinful man enough to give us the Gift of His Son and then allow us the choice to confess and believe, or to go on living life as if
what
we
do
matters.

12 Days of Reflection - #11: 1+1+1 Challenge

For the past month, our church has been participating in the 1+1+1 Challenge - a challenge to do 3 things:

1. 1 hour spent in prayer for our church each week
2. 1 hour spent in service each week
3. 1-time financial gift to be divided 50/50 among local and global impact

 Sounds easy, right?

The easiest one was #2.  Between worship team, tech team, Upward, and children's ministry stuff, this one was covered, and I am pleased to say this is part of our regular, everyday life.

I thought #3 would be the hardest.  We had just finished FPU when the challenge was first issued, and we had learned that since we are indebted to others, our money really isn't our own, and before we can give above and beyond our usual tithe, we must pay off our debts.  Well, there's no way that was going to happen before the end of 2013, so we had to do some creative negotiating with our budget to figure that one out.

#1 has proved to be the most difficult.  Grant has been saying all along that it averages out to just under 10 minutes a day.  Who doesn't have 10 minutes a day?  Um, me, apparently.  Focused prayer has always been a hard thing for me.  I'm really more of a situational or "sniper" pray-er, if you will.  I will pray about things on my mind, or people I know, or random people I see that I don't know, but I'm not great about focusing one one thing and praying about it for more than, say, 10 seconds.  Is there such a thing as prayer ADD?  I think I have it.  In my experience, my most heartfelt praying experiences are always when I write them out, but the time-manager in me cringes at this approach because I could get so much more into my prayer if I will just pray it instead of write it, but if I'm too distracted to stay on point, then what difference does it make???  Ugh...I'm getting frustrated just typing about it.  So while I haven't been a complete success in this department, the experience has caused me to realize that this needs to be an area of focus for me in 2014.

Which is the point of all of this - refocus and gear up for what God is going to do in 2014.  There is something amazing about being on the brink of a new year, thinking about everything that has happened in the past year, and what a different place we are in now than when we stared one year ago.  This is one of my favorite times of year for that reason! 

12 Days of Reflection - #10: Wardrobe

 DISCLAIMER: This one is far less "serious" than the others.  But I think it's been a good decision all the same.

I am not, nor will I ever be, a fashionista.  Over the years, I have built up a wardrobe of function and frugality.  Most of my pieces are hand-me-downs or from a thrift store or (more likely) garage sale.  Many are years old.  Like, since college years old. Clothing has always been purpose-fulfilling and nothing more.  I pick the shoes in which my feet will be warmest.  My hair goes back wet.  I take the time to make sure I match, but that's pretty much it.  I like styles of other people, but I am not fashionable enough (or well-financed enough) to pull them off myself.

 

Since losing more than 40 lbs, I have found that the wardrobe department is much more fun than I had once thought.  Thanks to the generosity of many friends and my husband, I have now built up a wardrobe that is both functional and relatively (especially when you consider where I started) fashionable.  I now own boots, scarves, leggings, tights, and am working on fixing my hair every day.  I am also looking at upgrading my make-up (any recommendations?).

And I've been able to do all of this relatively cheaply.  Chelsea and Lindsey have been a great help, giving me stuff and taking me shopping, and I have been able to order some things online and pick them up on sale at the store, and, as it turns out Ms seem to be much more prevalent than Ls and XLs!

Why is this a good decision?  Because as much as we say looks don't matter, they kind of do.  I look far more professional at work when I am not picking my clothes out based on comfort.  And, maybe the biggest one: I am a much better reflection on my husband when I show up to church looking my best and not like I just rolled out of bed.  And I don't say that because my husband has EVER given me any grief over anything like that.  But my dad said something to me once - I don't even remember the exact wording or details - about how I am a reflection on him no matter where I go, what I do, or what I look like.  It stuck with me. 

How has it changed me?  Mmm...I feel more confident when I really like my outfit?  That might be the extent of the change.  This is a pretty superficial one, after all.

12 Days of Reflection - #8: Work

 Decision #8 - Return to work in August.

I don't know that this qualifies as a decision, per se - I really had no option in this case.  But I'm including it because I made a choice to want to return to work.

I have no qualms about calling last school year the worst and most difficult of my career.  It started on September 5th when I went on bed rest and missed nearly three months of key time with my students.  It resumed on December 3rd when I returned to work.  I had just experienced one of the most trying and difficult times of my life with the birth of my premature baby, and here I return to school with the most challenging group of kids with which I'd ever dealt.  But I can't blame it all on the kids. I was tired, emotionally exhausted, and, to be frank, grouchy.  I was struggling with kids, co-workers, changes in my curriculum, and, as the end of the year approached, the realization that my best friend and closest co-worker was going to be leaving me.  Cap the whole experience with a perfect summer with my kiddos, and you end up with me really really really wishing I didn't have to go back to work.  Dreading August 6th.

So after a brief time of mourning, I made a decision.  I was going to be excited about the school year.  No more of this wishing things were different.  It wouldn't change anything and it just served to sour my mood.  So I decided to be excited about the school year.  I just reread the blog post I wrote right before the beginning of the school year.  I think I sound more excited than I actually was, but it worked.  It was a very good decision because my heart is in the right place, and one of the goals I wrote down was "be content to bloom (happily, not grudgingly) where God has placed me."  And, even though this year has been full of unexpected happenings and frustrations in its own right, I am trying to remember that my only real job is to love kids, and, unfortunate though it may be, I think that's where the biggest change has taken place.  I tend to get so caught up in the extra stuff that comes with teaching, but this is where my heart needs to be.  And it's a lot easier to do when I'm not fighting against the circumstance.

12 Days of Reflection - #7: Pre-School

Decision #7: Enrolling our son in preschool

All the classes together for their Christmas PJ party :)

This is something we both really really wanted to do for our son.  Our mothers have been so amazing providing care for our son for the past three years, but now they are doing the same for our daughter, and, to be fair, our son is a handful!  They needed a break.

Even if I were a stay-at-home mom, we would want our children in preschool.  They learn so many things - how to sit still, how to use a public bathroom, how to listen to a speaker in a group, how to walk in a line - things for which home isn't really a great setting.  But most importantly to us, he is receiving exposure to other people.  He is learning how to take turns.  He is learning how to share.  He is learning how to interact with peers and with authority figures.  He is learning what behaviors are acceptable and which ones aren't.  In short, he is learning how to be a functional part of his society.

And he is learning to care for his friends.  One night we were praying and, with no prompting, he says "And dear Jesus, please help Easton because he is sick."  I don't mind telling you that I got a little teary.  He saw a need in a friend and brought it to Jesus.  Already, my little 3-year-old is working for the kingdom.  And isn't that the ultimate goal?

I'm sure there are people who would argue that you don't need preschool to teach these things, and I'm sure, for some people, that's probably true.  But for us, this is definitely one of the best decisions of 2013.

Oh, and have I mentioned that he LOVES it????  He loves his friends, Miss Jesse and Miss Stephanie, and all his other teachers.  A huge THANK YOU to these wonderful ladies for all they do for our sweet kiddos.  Do you see in the picture that behind the kids is a fireplace made from butcher paper with stockings hung on string from the ceiling?  They definitely go above and beyond for these kids.  If something happened suddenly and he couldn't go to preschool, that kid would be devastated.  And so would we!

12 Days of Reflection: #6 - The Job

 On June 10th, 2013, my husband started his new job. (Details on how he got it here and here.)

And there was much rejoicing.

He's been there 6 months.  They love him (he is pretty loveable) and he's already made himself an asset to the company.  Like most engineers, he is painfully detailed and organized, extremely efficient, and very knowledgeable.  But unlike most engineers, he is very much a people-person.  He has become the person his team goes to for help, whether it be software (he's one of the only folks on his team who knows one of the architect programs), or just a hand with a project.  They have to log their time according to project, and one day he told me he spent a total of five of his eight hours helping people.  That is the kind of thing that would frustrate my obsession with being productive, but he is patient and a good teacher.  He also has a way of making people feel at ease, a gift I think he inherited from his grandpa Harold.

The commute can be rough and the hours long, but ultimately, this is definitely one of the best decisions of 2013.

Proud wife, here.

12 Days of Reflection - #4: Recording Goals

 Decision #4 - Recording Goals

This is one of the habits of highly effective people, right?  I have not been great at this, but I made myself make a list of things I wanted to accomplish before I turn 30 (now a mere 5 months from now).  I have come back to this list occasionally, reminding myself of things that are important in my life.  I just reviewed them, and in the 9 months since I posted this list, here is my progress:

• 13 are done - YAY!
• 6 in the works - not bad
• 11 untouched - Ugh.

If you care to read on, go for it.  This is really more for me than anyone else, but posting it helps motivate me to stick with it.  Strike-throughs = done.  Highlights = in progress.  Nothings = well, nothing.

30 Before 30

1. Continue a consistent morning routine, including Bible study and prayer, before the rest of the house wakes - Got out of this habit. Needs work.
2. Have an exercise routine in place for at least 3 days/wk (I HATE running, but I would love to conquer my hate and do it anyway.  It worked with broccoli.) Not quite 3 days/wk, but if you factor in my summer exercise, it probably averages to about the same!
3. Be on my phone less
4. Make Thanksgiving dinner complete with a turkey, even if it's just for us, and even if it's not Thanksgiving
5. Plant and tend a garden - not sure I'm going to make it on this one, as there really isn't a planting season between now and April...
6. Make a first-year baby book for my daughter - photos are developed and sorted!
7. Be in the regular habit of reading for pleasure - not quite...haven't had a good enough book lately...
8. Spend at least 30 minutes of undivided time with my children every day completing an activity of their choice - SO much easier in the summers!
9. Eat at home every weeknight and serve a vegetable with every meal pretty much a habit!
10. Take more pictures Yep...much to my husband's irritation
11. Continue to give to our church and other ministries and programs, becoming more generous every year And this sure has been easier now that we are clawing our way out of debt!
12. Finish my book :) - this was a joke, hence the happy face
13. Be on the road to my goal weight (now that we are done having kids :) CHECK!!!!
14. Journal consistently - does blogging count?
15. Continue to keep diligent track of my children's medical information using their ISNs - yes
16. Do my daughter's hair each day that I get up with her - I don't think I was counting on how much hair she would NOT have when I thought up this goal.  Letting myself off the hook and crossing this one off.
17. Be discipled by an older, mature, and more experienced follower of Jesus - YES YES YES! Details here.
18. Recycle EVERYTHING that is recyclable - Boom.
19. Compile all the video I have of my son's first, third, and fourth years of life and my daughter's first year of life, edit together, and make a DVD for each year - umm...no
20. Read at least two books on parenting - 0 for 2.
21. Enroll my son in preschool - yes - and one of the best decisions we've made!
22. Build my husband up every day with my words and actions - always trying to make this a focus
23. Have built up our savings and emergency funds to our goal amounts - I'm crossing this one off because this goal changed into "emergency fund and debt payoff," and we are rocking it!
24. Have gone on a family vacation, or at least have one on the books - July 2014, baby!
25. Continue to reuse and save money by purchasing used items instead of buying retail - yep!
26. Have a date night with my husband at least once a month - don't necessarily need to spend money, but just be alone together without the kids - um...no.  Not even close :/
27. Build up a new wardrobe - YES! Thanks to Chelsea for giving me her old stuff, Lindsey for helping me shop and tolerating all my fashion ignorance, and my husband for insisting I spend money on clothing without feeling bad about it
28. Re-draft and re-commit to our budget considering changes in our income - check check!
29. Get outside more - nope...I still hate the outdoors
30. Be content to bloom (happily, not grudgingly) where God has placed me

12 Days of Reflection: #3 - Family Mini-Vaycay

Decision #3: Taking our Family Mini-Vaycay

I have no idea whether this is normal, but I am constantly thinking about trips I've been on.  I don't know if it's because I love travel, or because I learn so much from each new experience, but I think about them all. the. time.  I think about trips like this one less than say, our trip to China, but I do think about this one often, and with fondness.

Because we were supposed to keep Lucy home, we heavily debated taking the mini-vacation we had planned for spring break.  But we did.  And it was awesome.  We still talk about it as The Perfect Trip.  Read about it here and here.

And take a look at this cute little premie at five months!

And her equally adorable brother having a good old time at the science museum :)

12 Days of Reflection - #1: Keeping Lucy Home

Decision #1 - Keeping Lucy home until March.

One of the most wonderful things about having a baby is getting to show her off.  People oohing and ahhing over the biggest and best accomplishment you will ever have in your entire life is a pretty great experience.  But when you have a baby six weeks early at the start of flu season, you don't get to enjoy that particular part of the experience.  You have to keep your baby home to help protect against sickness and infection.

At the hospital, they presented this to us not as something we had to do, but as something they highly recommend.  I remember a conversation my husband had with a nurse that went something like:

Nurse: We recommend you keep your baby home until March.
Rick: Alright.
Nurse: (taken aback) Really?
Rick: Yes. It's what's best for Lucy, right?
Nurse: Yes.
Rick: Okay. Decision made.
Nurse: That's not the reaction we usually get.
Rick: Um...what? Why not?
Nurse: Because it's inconvenient.  People take their little premies out and show them off, or to Walmart or wherever.  One of ours took her baby to a rock concert.  She contracted RSV and died two days later.
Rick: You don't have to worry about that with us.  She will be home until March.

And she was.  It was extremely disappointing - she really was the sweetest, tiniest and cuddliest little thing - and it was very inconvenient, but it was clearly what was best for our girl.  I think her first day in the nursery at church was technically whatever the last Sunday in February was, but we pretty much made it through four months of keeping her home.

And now, she is the smiliest, happiest, chunkiest, healthiest little baby you can imagine!

12 Days of Reflection

2013 is almost over, and in contemplating this fact, I have decided to pull out the best decisions I have made this year and spread them out over the course of 12 days.  So for the next 12 days, my posts will be focusing on decisions I made this year, why they were good, and how they have changed me.  But it may take me more than 12 days - they will all be up before Christmas, anyhow.

Anyone want to join? :)

#athleteproblems

(Note: I don't really know how to use the hashtag.  But it looked cool.)

Lindsey and I were walking last night and I was telling her about how my hip flexors (actually, I called them my "right heres" and pointed - she supplied the correct term) are extremely sore and I can't figure out why.  Her response?

"That's an athlete's problem."

An athlete's problem?  Say whaaaat?  She said something about how this was a typical problem for athletes, and that I probably was an athlete now, and a few other things until I was able to steer the conversation back onto comfortable ground.

But it required reflection, nonetheless.  If that's an athlete's problem, that must not be what I have. I'm not an athlete.  I never have been.  In my youth, I prided myself in that fact because it showed off my rebellious side, since I hail from a family of athletes - my dad coached every sport the school offered and my brother played every sport the school offered.  Not being an athlete was part of my identity.  But now...could she be right?  I don't know.  I don't play sports, so I would say no.  However, being a word person, I looked up athlete on dictionary.com, and here is the exact, word-for-word-, CNTRL+ C and V definition:

noun

a person trained or gifted in exercises or contests involving physical agility, stamina, or strength; a participant in a sport, exercise, or game requiring physical skill.

Hmm...too many references to sports and contests.  But if I cross out some of the words that don't apply to me, the ones around the "or" word, it looks like this:

noun

a person trained or gifted in exercises or contests involving physical agility, stamina, or strength; a participant in a sport, exercise, or game requiring physical skill.

Well, yes, technically, this does fit.  I have been "training" in yoga for nine weeks now, averaging five times a week.  I have been "training" for my 5K (at least, I suppose you could call it that) since I started walking in May.  Both require physical agility, stamina, strength, and skill.

Could this be me?

Perhaps.  Exercise has become a habit.  If I don't do it, I feel weird.  Physically weird - like something's missing.  There are also mental and emotional reactions if I don't work out.  I seem to be more stressed if I don't do it.  Now granted, part of that is because I'm working hard to get fit and lose weight and not being able to fit a workout in adds to my stress load.  But I really think the rest of it is because my body is becoming accustomed to it.

Maybe...

Day 30: React to the Term "Letting Go"

I don't like this prompt, so instead I'm going to reflect on the Blog Every Day in July challenge.

I enjoyed this because 1) I like to write and find the added element of being told what to write fun and intriguing and 2) I LOVED reading everyone else's answers.  I loved how some of us chose to go the same route on certain questions, and on others I found myself thinking, "I never would have thought to answer it like that."  There are many things that were shared that may never have been shared otherwise, and I really liked that.  I also like that at least three friends have started blogs in July, and I'm crediting at least some of it to this challenge.

But I'm glad it's over.

Blog-future looks like this: few and far between.  School starts next week and this teacher is going to be booking it.  Between getting my kids where they need to be, getting myself to work, food prep, exercising, keeping my house in some semblance of order, and trying to find quality time to spend with my family, I'm calling it now - I will be absent from the cyber waves in the very near future.  But I feel like blogging 42 times (as I will have by the end of the month) makes up for it.

:)

Day 24: My Top 3 Worst Traits

This post was so easy to write.  Being a recovering pessimist, these are the things that fill my mind during down times.  Though I will tell you it was rough to stick with three.  And the three are ugly.  I mean it.  This is not pretty stuff.  But I'm not holding back - this is the real deal.

1. I care WAY too much about what other people think about me. I think there is a healthiness to being mindful of what others think. It can help keep you accountable when you are pressing toward a goal. It can help you be considerate when you are working to serve others. But I take it way past healthy and into the tragic, dark depths of obsession. Literally. What do my in-laws really think about me? What does my boss really think about me? What does the lady in the aisle behind me think about how I just disciplined my child at the grocery store?  Seriously - I think it's a disease. I recently read this quote from Eleanor Roosevelt:

“You wouldn't worry so much about what others think of you if you realized how seldom they do.”

It made me feel a bit better.


2. I have trouble letting things go. I still have hurts from a decade ago that I haven't fully been able to kick.  I so admire people who can just bounce back.  I want to be able to forgive and forget, but I often can't get that forget thing down.  Not cool.

3. I am critical of people I don't know and love. Someone will walk by in the mall and I will be like, "She should not be wearing those pants," like I'm some expert on fashion who has never made a clothing faux pas. Or I will come home after school and be like, "You will not believe what this parent did with their kid," and then rattle it off, acting as if I know all the circumstances that went into that parent making that (wrong) decision. Or I will be like, "That child didn't say thank you," because my child always uses his manners (ahem).  I do come by this habit honestly, but it is no excuse. My husband is the exact opposite of this and he is so good about calling me out. I am grateful for his gentle reminders that I have not been appointed high judge over all fashion, parenting, and manners, or anything, for that matter. The world is full of screwed-up people (of which I am one) who are just doing their best.

Ugh.

Day 23: Things I've Learned that School Won't Teach Me

I've learned that my parents really know what they are talking about.
I've learned that students need loved more than they need taught.
I've learned that my children grow way too fast, and even though I am eager for next steps, I know there will be a day when I am wishing for last steps.
I've learned that the best way to learn something hard is by doing it.
I've learned that I really can do it...most of the time.
And I've learned that when I can't, I can through Jesus. (Phil 4:13) 
I've learned that being a mom is a learning experience, and it's okay if I don't get it perfect all the time.
I've learned that life is too short to spend it on anger, regrets, worry, or fear.
I've learned that doing the right thing because it is the right thing is always worth it.
I've learned that there is nothing I can do to separate me from the love of God. (Rom 8:38-39)