Pilgrim's (and my) Progress

This weekend was a struggle. Like I've said, some days I have the strength to push through, other days...I sit in a church bathroom and my own closet and cry until tears won't come anymore. Well, maybe not all my tears. I just allowed myself a good cry and then I told myself to get a hold of myself, and move on. 

Do you give yourself pep talks too?

I'd like to say the tears were cleansing, but they weren't. Every once in awhile, I just can't hold them in any longer. Something triggers the pain inside and, well, I lose it. Ever have one of those days?

After two days in a row of that, Monday was upon me and it was time to move on. When you teach a classroom full of fourth graders, you don't have the luxury of having an off day. You have to be ON....ALL DAY...EVERY...DAY. It can be exhausting, but it can also change my focus to the task in front of me and help push the pain away. There are moments, even some of the tough ones, when I feel the power of the Holy Spirit. I can't explain it, I just know that my words and actions are His and not mine and that awareness is true gift. It's what I love about my job, or really, any job. When God gets a hold of you like that, it's hard to feel bad.

I try my best to read aloud to the class most days. They love listening and I love reading and literature, so it's a sweet time. Today I was finishing up Pilgrim's Progress, a book that I'm ashamed to say I've never read. Max and Dawson's fourth grade teacher read it to them and they loved it, so I thought I'd give it a try. I'm going to be honest, it's not one of my favorites, but the kids have loved it. 

A mom and her kids were nearing the end of their journey to the Celestial City, which can only be interpreted as Heaven. It's arduous, and long, and full of seemingly insurmountable challenges. And yet, they continue on. They were going through the Valley of Despair when one of the boys said, "...it is not so bad to go through this place as it is to dwell here for all time; for this place surely shows us how blessed the city is to which we go, and how little we have left behind us." Then Samuel added, "Why, surely, if I get out of this place, I think I shall prize that which is right and good more than I have done all my life."

It was as if the Lord had written those words just for me and timed the reading of the story so I would say those things out loud today. 

"Did you hear that?" I asked the class. "Do you know what that means?"

"Yes! It means Heaven is better than here."

"Indeed!" I congratulated.

It's a truth so simple a nine year old can understand. I know it too. I just forget it sometimes. This world and its pains and struggles is not all there is. It's not the best there is. It's simply what we have to go through to reach the end goal - Heaven. 

I'm grateful that God ALWAYS finds a way to get through to me. I'm grateful He understands my love of the creative ways He chooses to do it. I'm grateful that one day, hopefully, I too will make it through all of life's challenges and arrive in the "Celestial City".

We Disconnect to Connect

After church and Sunday school, we took the kids out for brunch. Felicity spent the night with her cousin, so it was just Dawson and Max. The wait was about 35 minutes. Nelson said he'd wait at the restaurant so I could drive down the road and pick up a birthday present for our niece. 

Dawson and Max stayed in the car and rode along. When we got to the bookstore, we discovered we still had 20 minutes before it opened. After a quick check in with Nelson, we decided to wait since we were within walking distance of where we were going to eat. 

The three of us sat in the car just shooting the breeze. As soon as the doors opened, I ran in, grabbed the gift, and we were on our way back. We arrived at the restaurant in time to be seated. 

At the table we had some great conversations revolving around memories, books verses movies, school, songs, and other topics. We have a rule in our house that there are no phones at the table. Developing good conversational skills is one of our goals for our kids. Today, I saw that they are good at it. There was nothing negative, no weird pauses, no awkward silences. There was no effort, we were just being together, laughing, and having a good time. 

Of all my parenting memories, the simple ones are some of the sweetest. I'm grateful for these little moments, because I know all to well, that as they grow, they will be few and farther between. I'm grateful for kids who are willing to include us in their lives. I'm grateful that I grew up without a phone so I can teach my kids how nice it is to be disconnected from it for awhile. 

Next Year

Today I attended the wedding of a sweet friend and then helped set up and clean up at the reception. It doesn't sound like much fun, but it was. There's something about serving with other people that's good for my heart. When I got married, so many people served us that we were able to have a giant wedding for a fraction of what it should have cost. It makes me happy to be able to pay it forward. 

As we were carrying stuff from the kitchen to the bride's family's car, her nephew, who is a third grader at our school, looked at me and said, "Mrs. Parris, I can't wait to be in your class next year!" I'm not sure what kind of student he is, but right there in that kitchen looking into his smiling eyes, I decided he will be my favorite.

I'm grateful for the opportunity to teach kids who are young enough to still be excited about school. I'm grateful that God sent that young man to give me the encouragement to keep on keeping on. 

Donut Day

Last night I was up late baking. I've managed to bribe my class into memorizing scriptures that are optional. Each month the elementary students receive a monthly scripture of three to five verses. The memorization of it is completely optional. If they choose to say it, they get a small prize. If they say all nine of them, they earn a big bag of surprises.

The scriptures are no small feat. Some are much harder than others. I love that we offer them the opportunity to memorize scripture, so I've sweetened the deal a bit with my class. 

If everyone in the class says it by the end of the month, I bring in a prize for them on top of what they get from the school. Also, if everyone in the class says ALL of the scriptures, I promise a field trip to my house where they can make their own pizzas and watch a movie at the end of the year. 

So far, every class has said every scripture. Kids are highly motivated by food. I usually make them some kind of homemade goody like cupcakes, cookies, cinnamon rolls, and the like. 

I was up until the wee hours making a new treat I just tried for my family - homemade donuts (baked, not fried). I got them all finished (goodness knows, I always have to make double because my kids can't stand it when I give away something they don't get to try), and got to bed satisfied with my accomplishment and excited to surprise them.

When I met my students at assembly this morning, one of them happily informed me that his father had purchased two dozen donuts from Krispy Kreme for the class. "May I share them with everyone?" he excitedly asked. 

"Of course you can," I responded with a smile. "That was so generous of you and your father." I mustered all the excitement I could while thinking, of all days to bring donuts, you had to choose today?

I let the young man pass them out first thing and when he asked if they could all have two, I responded, "I think that's enough sugar for now. Why don't you bring those back home and share them with your siblings?"

As they were lining up for lunch a few hours later, I revealed that the reason I didn't let them have two donuts earlier was that I brought them their prize for saying the monthly scripture and it was...donuts. I had talked myself into the fact that they wouldn't be excited knowing there were still Krispy Kreme donuts in the room, but I was wrong. 

When they sat down at the lunch tables, I passed them out and got rave reviews. One particularly picky student told me, "10 out of 10 Mrs. Parris!" Another said, "These are better than the Krispy Kreme ones!"

I'm grateful it all worked out so nicely. I'm grateful that they loved the donuts. I'm grateful for the opportunity to do some baking, which I love. I'm also grateful I have people to give the baked goods to so I don't consume them all myself. 

The Forgotten Lunch Blessing

Since I've been in school, Thursdays have always been one of my favorite days. I know it sounds weird, but to me, it was the day before the weekend began so it was full of potential and hope. As a teacher, it's been much the same. Now that I'm in elementary school, it is even more so. Thursday afternoons my class has PE and it's the one planning period I get...all week. It's amazing what you can get done when your classroom is empty.

Thursdays are also now the day I have a student teacher in my room. I was willing to let her handle the day after talking with her yesterday. They were taking two tests, so there were only a few lessons to be taught and she was more than wiling to do it.

This morning my mind was racing with all kinds of ideas for all of the "free time" I was going to have. I packed my laptop, a book I'm reading, and wondered how else I would spend my day.

While they were doing math first thing, I sat at the back table to observe. In all of my glorious planning, I ignored the fact that I'd be teaching the teacher even when I wasn't teaching my class. While they set to work on math, I got caught up on some grading. By the time I got rolling, the math books to be checked started stacking up. I offered to help check them, so she could work with the students having trouble.

As they began their tests, Felicity's teacher popped by to let me know she had forgotten her lunch and she was pretty upset. That was a first for her. She's been so great at remembering, I don't have to remind her. In fact, for the last week or two, she's been packing her own lunch. Nobody was at my house, and I had someone in my room, so I scooted home to pack her one. 

While I was there, I also threw something in the crockpot for dinner. I spent a grand total of about 15-20 minutes including driving back and forth. Have I mentioned I live less than a mile from where I work? That felt like a big blessing - getting a home cooked meal going and grabbing a lunch that would make my first grader happy.

By the time I got back, test one was finished and test two in process. I went over how I grade them and then pitched in to get them done. The afternoon went pretty fast.  I finished up the tests, recorded them in my grade book, and by the time I finished, it was time for them to go to P.E. 

P.E. is usually the time when I get my plans ready for the following week and gather supplies for my art class on Friday. By the time I got that done and went over the day with the student teacher, it was time for them to come back in and leave. 

Ah, the best laid plans...aren't always what happen. The good news is that I got everything done that needed to get done and I didn't fall any farther behind.

So, today I'm grateful to know that somewhere inside of me still dwells hopeful optimism. I'm grateful for the opportunity to have an impact on a future teacher. I'm also grateful that my family had a good meal because Felicity forgot her lunch.

Code Breaking and Memory Making

This week in my class, we read a story about the Navajo code talkers of WWII. If you don't know anything about them, be sure to look them up. It's a fascinating story...especially if you're a 4th grader. Turns out codes are enchanting at this age.

We had a bit of "extra" time (I just happened to build into the day) today, so I handed out a code for them to interpret. They each had a partner. I wouldn't give them any clues. "It's all in the letter," I said slyly.

The summer before my senior year in high school, my parents signed me up for a three week volunteer job with the Missionaries of Charity. We worked in the summer camp they hosted in the little coal mining town of Jenkins, KY. 

I wasn't crazy about the idea, as I had no idea who the Missionaries of Charity were and had only vaguely heard of Mother Teresa. Also, my dad always teased me about becoming a nun; as in, "Nuns don't date",  and "Nuns don't need a driver's license." I really thought they would send me to Kentucky and I'd never get to finish high school because the sisters were sure to make me be a nun. Also, it just so happened that my seventeenth birthday fell right in the middle of my time there.

My dad, who has never been much of a letter writer, decided to write me a letter in code for my birthday. I was homesick, and also without a phone, television, radio, or even a movie theater. My three classmates and I became pros at Trivial Pursuit that summer because it was the ONLY form of entertainment in the homeless shelter where we were staying. 

Today I handed out that letter to my students and assigned them the task of decoding it to discover what my dad was trying to tell me. It kept them busy for quite some time (as it did my roommates and me in Jenkins). They were thrilled and wide-eyed as each pair came to my desk to read me the letter. "This is fun!", and "Can we do another one?", were heard throughout the room.

It was one of those perfect moments in the classroom. A fun, learning activity that coordinated perfectly with what I was teaching, as well as a sweet memory for me to share with them and to relish for myself.

It made me grateful for my parents and the effort and creativity they put into my upbringing. I'm so grateful they made me go that summer. I spent 11 more summers with the sisters in Jenkins, New York City, Charlotte, and Atlanta. My time with those saints changed me. I'm grateful for letter writing, care packages, and pay phone calls home. I'm grateful those summers allowed me the opportunity to stand face to face with a canonized saint on several occasions. 

And today, I'm grateful for a story in the 4th grader reader about code talkers that allowed me to go back in time.

The Almost Big Event

Today has been a day. The week has been long and hard, and it's only Tuesday. There are some weeks, days, moments, minutes, better than others. Some days, I live in hope, see the blessings, and let the little things bring me joy. Other days, I carry the weight on my shoulders, lose sight that things will ever change, and have to force a smile on my face.

Yesterday was a tough day, followed by a night of basketball. My friend came to the scorers' table between games and asked, "Do you think we should just leave with the boys straight from school tomorrow?"

"Wait, what?", was my reply as I was adding stats and setting up the book for the next game. "We have to take them somewhere?"

"The game is in Aiken tomorrow," she reminded me. 

I guess I knew that, but had somehow pushed it out of my mind in my one day at a time survival mode. Of course, I would have to be there to keep the book, so of course it was natural to expect I would take some of the team with me. "Sure, I'll be ready right after school."

By the end of school today, I was getting geared up to drive a car full of middle school boys to a game 35 minutes away, right after spending hours in a classroom of very loud lively students. I was wishing I loved coffee so the caffeine could maybe give me the boost I needed. I knew what I really needed was some time in prayer, but goodness knows that was NOT going to happen on that car ride.

The guys were dressed and waiting for me at the car when I came out. My friend and I split them up, counted heads, and off we went. Ordinarily, traffic only goes out of our parking lot one way - to the right. That's the way home, the direction of the traffic, and allows the carline to move quickly. However, to get where we were going, we had to turn left. 

Our school is on the corner of two busy roads that produce a lot of traffic. My friend made a quick left turn into the turn lane and I knew that if I wanted to keep up with her (as well as not hold everyone else up), I needed to do the same. I looked both ways and was thankful for a quick opportunity to join her. 

I'm not sure where the other car came from, (my friend later told me it was going so fast I probably didn't have time to see it) but as I pulled across the first lane and was heading to the second lane, I (thanks be to God) saw the flash and slowed just enough to miss it. It was like a scene from the Matrix. I watched as my front bumper missed the other car by inches, and then had the wherewithal to continue with some speed to make the whole turn into the turn lane so as not to get smashed by anyone else. 

Max, who had shotgun, said, "Mama, we almost got in an accident. What were you looking at?"

"I was looking bud, but that car was nowhere in sight when I made the turn."

"Wow," was his relieved response.

"Wow is right. What you just witnessed was a miracle. It's truly miraculous that we that not only did we not hit that speedster, but also that we did not get hit by anyone else."

And that was the end of that. I thanked the Lord profusely since I was not only concerned for Max and myself, I was so grateful not to have to call all of the moms of the boys I had in the car. If you're one of those moms, thank your son's guardian angel tonight because there was definitely more than one of them working overtime.

Ordinarily, my heart would have raced for the entire 35 minute drive. My hands would have been shaking, and I would have needed the boys to be silent. But for some reason, I felt very aware of the miracle I just witnessed and very grateful for the almost huge event that was really a nonevent. 

My poor friend, on the other hand, saw the whole event in her mirror. I was secretly hoping nobody had witnessed it. The boys in my car seemed to be totally unfazed. All of the things I should have been feeling, she felt for me. She was the one who let me know how fast that car was coming and brought up the fact that my guardian angel was definitely working for me. I agreed with her and we walked into the gym and back to life. 

The trip home was completely uneventful. 

The longer I think about it, the more grateful I am for the Lord's protection. Honestly, I don't know what the bigger miracle was - the fact we came out unscathed, the fact that I didn't lose my cool and cause another accident avoiding the one in front of me, or the fact that I was able to calmly drive the team to the game right afterwards. 

I guess it doesn't really matter. What does matter is that God made it very clear to me tonight that He loves me and is watching out for me, and I'm very, VERY grateful for that!

The Blessing of Basketball

Max's middle school team started my run at the table tonight and what a game it was. They played great and beat a team by 20 that had beaten them by as much when we played them in their gym. One of the blessings of a small school is that you get to watch the kids grow together as a team. They grow in talent and in stature at this age, and it can be glorious to witness when it all comes together. They've known each other their whole lives, so they learn how to read each other. When they're on, there's no stopping them.

Dawson's team had similar success. The only reason they didn't reach 100 tonight, is that we have a merciful coach who doesn't enjoy humiliating the other team. I've been keeping the books for some of these guys since they started playing basketball in the 6th grade. It's wonderful to watch it all unfold. Sure, every game is not their best, but they love each other and are a true team. There are lots of pats on the back and cheering each other on.

I'm grateful to live in a place where I can watch growth and change take place. I get to witness talent unfold and bloom. I'm grateful to be able to be able to participate in such a big part of their lives. I'm grateful for our gym and the memories it holds (all the way back to when I played sports in it). And, I'm grateful to be part of the bigger work of raising these souls.

A Surprise Visit

Today I was pleasantly surprised by Aiden's arrival home late this afternoon. Maybe he told someone, but it wasn't me. And, even though he's only been back at school a week or two, it was nice to see him walk in. 

It's such a small thing, but it's also a big blessing just to be able to say, "I love you," to him as I say goodnight. He has to head back first thing in the morning, but not before I get the chance to say goodbye and maybe, "I love you," one more time. 

I'm grateful for a son who comes back home. I'm grateful for the chance to let him know I love him with no grand gesture, just a simple phrase. I'm grateful he's doing well and loving school, but also that he still needs to come home occasionally too.

Seasons Change

Today was the first Saturday in a very long time I can remember being free of commitments. Because of the weather, the basketball games scheduled for this morning were cancelled. When I got that text this morning, I was so very grateful.

I've been waiting for a day to put away my Christmas decorations. I never look forward to doing this for two reasons: one, it takes the better part of the day to do it, and two, it's kind of sad. I absolutely love the Advent and Christmas seasons, with all of their joy and potential. This year, especially, I had that BIG intention that I focused two novenas on and so I was full of hope too. And, well, the house shows that joy and hope and potential. It's festive, very festive.

Taking it all down makes a big mess - boxes coming up and down from the attic, Christmas glitter and garland remnants cover the floor, furniture needs to be moved, and Christmas leftovers and leaves need to be swept off the porches. And, it's like pulling teeth to get any help. They don't like to see the festive atmosphere go either (also, they're not big fans of work).

Felicity and I decided to indulge in some hot chocolate as we put the nativity figures in their boxes. I figured that we may need to put Christmas up, but we can still hang on to it a little bit. I took the second sip of mine, and I'm not sure how I managed it, but I choked...like couldn't catch my breath and when I did, Mackenzie and Felicity were so worried, they were getting ready to call for help. Tears were in my eyes when I finally stopped the sputtering and hacking. I could barely speak, but I said the words, "I'm okay," which they totally did not believe as it's not too convincing to say those words as you're coughing and tears are running down your face.

As I headed to my room later that night through my now clean, but rather empty house, "Aww...", I said, "this always makes me just a little sad."

Max, who was standing there, agreed. "I know, me too. Why can't you just always leave it up?" Now that was a two-fold response, as he had just finished taking a huge load of boxes to the attic for me. 

"If we did that, we wouldn't enjoy the change of seasons so much," I reminded him.

As I was praying tonight, it occurred to me that there may be a lesson here. There are seasons for everything. Some seasons, albeit, are better than others, but there's always hope (at least there should be). Just because I think God should do something in one season, doesn't mean He can't do it in another one instead. When we...ahem, I...try to hang on to a season that is passing, I find myself in some big messes (some that involve trying to catch my breath while I'm choking). 

I don't think God made me choke. He's not like that. I do think, however, He was trying to get my attention. Sure this next season doesn't appear to be filled with the potential for joy and hope like the last one was, but it is. They all are. God can do anything He wants, whenever He wants. He wants me to choose hope. He wants me to keep praying. He wants me to move forward, to grow, to change, and to enjoy that change. 

Tonight I'm grateful for new seasons. I'm grateful for the gift of hope in all of them. 

Also, I'm grateful I didn't choke to death on hot chocolate. :-)

SNOW!

Today I am grateful for snow. Even though it won't last and won't be for long, I'm grateful the kids get to experience it. I'm grateful I live in a neighborhood where two of Felicity's classmates rang our doorbell at 9:45 to tell Felicity it was snowing. I'm grateful that when I went outside to see it, I saw about 15 neighborhood kids running through the streets gathering up the snow. I'm also grateful for a warm fire which works nicely to dry out shoes, socks, gloves, and hats.

Time Well Spent

Today was a crazy day at school. That was followed immediately by being a leader at Felicity's Little Sisters, which was followed by me rushing home to change clothes and then driving about 45 minutes to the varsity games. Felicity was at her after school basketball program, Dawson was going to the game with his team, and Max decided he wasn't up for the long drive on an cold, rainy night. 

That found me alone in the car with 45 minutes of silence. Ahh....

Since I've been a mom, I've learned to enjoy the simple luxury of riding solo in the car. After a day like today, it was just what I needed before I settled in at the scoring table for the next few hours. 

Some of my best prayer times and my clearest words from the Lord have come to me during these solo drives. It's amazing what quiet does for prayer.

God knew I was going to need that because it just so happened that the cheerleading squad of about 20 young ladies sat DIRECTLY behind me at the scoring table and cheered during the ENTIRE game (including between quarters and at half time) for BOTH games. 

Bless their enthusiastic hearts. They were so loud, I couldn't hear myself think.

I wasn't looking forward to driving back alone because it was dark, freezing, and raining. The roads were supposed to be getting icy and my lights aren't the best. However, I prayed much more intently on that drive than I did going to the game. Also, I was VERY happy for the quiet.

Today I am grateful that the Lord has taught me to use the gifts He gives me, like time alone in the car, to spend time with Him. I'm also grateful to know that it's always time well spent.

Spectacular Success

At the end of every unit in our Reading curriculum, the students take a unit test. It's a doozy - testing all of the grammar and comprehension skills we've covered over the last five weeks. It's not an easy test, but it's a good one. Other than the grammar skills, there's not much they can do to study. It tests on a much higher level of learning than memorization and so it gives me a good idea of where their weaknesses are. 

The last week has presented quite the work load in my classroom. Besides the unit test in Reading, they had a unit test in History & Geography, as well as in Science. That's a lot of studying for them, but also a whole lot of grading for me.

In years past, I've had a student aide three times a week that could help me. This year, however, the high school is small and there are only two student aides for the entire elementary, which means I get help once a week for about 45 minutes. 

Last week I asked my aide if she could grade the multiple choice section of the unit test. That still left three writing assignments for me, but it would save a lot of time. Today I had all of that grading done, so I asked her to fill in the grading sheets with their scores (another time killer). After school, I took a glance at them and realized every student failed the test. 

That has never happened before, even on a bad test. I glanced through the test starting at the second section, where my student aide had taken over the checking. It didn't take long for me to realize that somehow she had used the wrong key. What that meant is that I had to regrade every test and redo all the grade sheets. Sigh..

I don't mind grading my students' work because it helps me see where they are, what they know, and what they don't. This week though, we have basketball games every single night, report cards are due, they are working on research reports that have to be checked and rechecked and commented on over and over and over again.

After school, I got Felicity going on her homework and began the arduous process of regrading, all while asking people at the games to keep me posted so I wouldn't be late to Max's game, for which I keep the book. 

As I was making my way through the mess, I realized everyone did much better than I first thought. One student in particular, who started school in late October, did a good 25 points higher than he did on the first unit test he took. I was amazed. The skills required in this subject aren't easily acquired. They take lots of practice. Generalizations, comparisons, summarizations, and writing don't just show up. I know that and have been encouraging him to keep working. "I see the progress you're making. I know you're frustrated because you're not improving as quickly as you have in math, but you ARE improving. Keep up the good work."

I  stared at his grade and let it just sink in. It's not often that you get to see such "immediate" success as a teacher. It's not often you get such a self-motivated student in your classroom. It's astounding to watch it unfold.

When I arrived at the gym, I found his mom in the bleachers and gave her the good news. I thanked her for the obvious effort she's put in at home. 

Today I'm grateful for the opportunity to witness such spectacular success.

Today

Some days things don't go your way. Some days involve lots of tears and sadness for everyone in the house. Some days are...just...plain...hard. Today was one of those. 

I'm very grateful today is almost over and that tomorrow is another day full of potential. Let's hope it's potential for goodness and joy.

Life Lessons, One Shovel at a Time

Today was the day we buried our friend. I told my kids it wasn't a choice. He was their friend too and they were to join me. None of them pushed back, they loved this man dearly. It didn't mean they wanted to spend their day off of school doing this, but they did it anyway.

The funeral went pretty fast, but the cemetery is about 35 minutes away. It's a long drive and it was COLD. I told them that when they were dressing this morning. "It's not just cold like I think of cold, but YOU will be cold and the wind will be blowing hard."

I had some drinks and snacks for the way. They were quiet, but not complaining...at all. When we got there the wind WAS blowing and it was COLD. We stayed anyway. Each of them took their turn with the shovel. They've done it before and it made me proud to see them so willing to do it again. 

After they finished I said we would all go and give his wife a hug. That was the only time they were a little put off. "Mama, people they've know their whole lives are in line. Why would she want a hug from us?"

"It will mean a lot to her. She's known you your whole life, so believe me when I say, she will be happy you hugged her."

They followed me and hugged her and told her they were sorry and that they loved her. Her smile said it all. She told the boys she could remember when they were so little they would jump in her lap. She always made them their own loaf of bread when it was their birthdays and they loved it, so much so they named the bread after her. She remembered that too and told them she'd make them some soon. The boys smiled at that. 

Death is hard and sad. It's impossible to have the right thing to say. Though this is true, people love that you try. It means the world to someone on a day like that to get a hug and a kind word. The effort and awkwardness is worth the impression it leaves on the loved one left behind.

Today I'm grateful for little moments like this to teach my children big life lessons. Lessons like, when you love someone, you show up for them. Lessons like a hug is worth more than any gift. Lessons like death is part of life. I'm so grateful they're willing to learn.

On Death and Dying

Tonight I attended a Celebration of Life service for a very dear friend. Tomorrow we will all go to his funeral and burial. Death is not my favorite thing, but as I was praying for his wife and family before the service, I was reminded that it is, after all, the end game. It's what we should be shooting for, since it's the only way to Heaven.

The first funeral I remember attending was my grandfather's. I was 10 when he died of lung cancer. Even at that young age, I recall the sadness I felt. My mom's parents lived in Illinois and we lived in Alabama. I was lucky if I saw them once a year. I was fully aware that I not only missed my grandpa, I also missed making the kind of memories with him that my cousins who lived near him did.

When I was engaged, my mom made the switch from ER nursing to hospice. When she talked to me about it, she said that she was getting too old for the kind of physical stress ER nursing put on her. With all the wisdom of my 25 years, plus a Masters Degree in Counseling, I remember warning her that although hospice nursing may not be as much physical stress, it would indeed be an emotional one. 

Even though I was worried for her, God knew what He was doing. I already knew my mom was pretty great, but her hospice care for patients was excellent. She had a gift not many people have.  In the years that followed, she hospiced her sister, her brother, and then watched two more brothers die.

I remember that the first to go after she started hospice, was my grandma, who died peacefully, in her own home, just the way she wanted. When Nelson and I (only 6 months into marriage at the time) arrived in Illinois, my mom asked me to go to the funeral home with her to dress my grandma. She was newly into hospice at that time, so she hadn't talked about it much. I was a little hesitant to say the least. "Grandma didn't want anyone else to see her undressed," she explained. Knowing what I did about my grandma, I knew that was the truth. I just wasn't sure I wanted to be the one to help her do it. However, I didn't have the heart to have my mom go through something like that on her own, so off we went. 

I don't remember much about the room. Seems to me it was a very sterile and low lit environment, with one bright light on my grandmother's body laying on a cold, steel table. The first order of business was to get her stockings on. 

"Stockings mom?! No one is even going to see her legs in the coffin." 

She assured me that that was what her mother wanted, so that was what we did. Have you ever tried to put stockings on a dead body? I hope not. Let me assure you, it's no easy task. Shoot, putting stockings on a live body isn't a piece of cake, which explains why no one these days wears them. Her legs were stiff and cold - preserving the body and such. The two of us struggled mightily to lift those legs, pull up those stockings, and get them straight. What I remember is the two of us laughing at ourselves in this most awkward of situations. Laughing at how embarrassed my grandma would be knowing we were doing this, but also how grateful. We laughed until we cried, and we reminisced, and we were quiet. It occurred to me that however strange this circumstance appeared, it was exactly as it should be. I will be forever grateful for that one last opportunity to serve such a wonderful woman.

The community here, has a very interesting way of doing the graveside ceremony. The priest or pastor says some prayers like usual, but instead of everyone leaving afterwards, we stay to watch the coffin lowered, and then take turns throwing shovels of dirt to bury the loved one. 

The first time I saw this happen, I thought it incredibly strange and morbid. Now I understand and feel the same about that as I did about dressing my grandma. It's one last opportunity to serve that person. It provides a tremendous sense of closure and is truly a beautiful gesture. When I attend funerals that don't happen like this, I feel like I'm being cheated out of this ability to serve. 

Through the years my mom served as a hospice nurse, our dinner conversations often centered around death and the dying. It sounds awful, but it was actually better than her stories of holding brains in people's heads and the other types of things she had to do in the ER. What we all learned is that death can be beautiful. She said that without exception, the people with the greatest faith, have the most beautiful deaths. She relayed story after story of smiles on people's faces, of the dying person seeing a loved one come into the room to get them, holding on until the last child arrived to say his goodbye. It certainly made death seem a lot less scary to me.

Tonight, we honored the life of a man who loved the Lord with his whole heart. A healthy vivacious man, who somehow ended up with inoperable brain cancer, and lived much longer than any doctor thought he could. As I listened to the sharings, I knew this man is better off now. He is home. He is not in pain.  He will never be tired again. He was generous and loving and kind and energetic and athletic and vivacious. He was an inspiration and I hope people will say the same of me when I'm gone. I'm certainly going to try to live a life that would merit that. 

Today I'm grateful for a faith that assures me this life is not all there is. I'm grateful for a mom, who through her hospice experiences, taught me death doesn't have to be feared. I'm grateful for pulling stockings up on stiff legs. And, I'm grateful that tomorrow I will get to bury my friend. 

A Sweet Reminder

There was a small girl sitting in front of me at the wedding reception tonight. Best guess, she was about three or four. She was dressed in what I am sure was her finest dress, hair brushed neatly, younger sister by her side. They were active, happy, and sweet. 

After the toasts came the dances. Immediately upon hearing the music, the older of the two girls left her seat to dance. She didn't run to the dance floor, she just swayed and bopped and moved right next to her table...not to the beat, but in total abandonment to the movement. It wasn't long before the younger girl joined in. It was just the two of them, having their own dance party, in the middle of a crowded dining area, totally unaware of anyone else there. They were giggling as they moved in a somewhat chaotic way that didn't resemble dancing much at all. Yet, they were dancing, and what I saw was pure bliss.

I smiled at them and laughed along, not because of their poor dancing skills, but because the joy they were exuding was absolutely contagious and I was simply enjoying the moment with them.

What a gift, I thought to myself. The ability to enjoy yourself without a care in the world. To be in the moment and move along with it, not the slightest concern with what anyone else thinks is such a wonderful way to be. 

I've noticed this up close and personal as I've been raising my own children and teaching other people's. I've also noticed that as some point it goes away. What happens to kids to make them lose this ability to abandon themselves to the moment, to try and fail and laugh about it, to put their whole heart into what they're doing? I know there are a myriad of answers this question, but none of them make it any easier to watch it occur.

Tonight, I found myself grateful to have witnessed the joy of those two sisters. To be reminded that when Jesus called us to be like little children, this is what He meant. 

I also found myself challenged to search for ways to experience this in my life again...as many times as I possibly can.

Now that Takes the Cake

I made a wedding cake this week. It's something I've done more times than I can remember.  I didn't set out to be a cake baker, it happened rather accidentally organically. 

When I was in college and living in a house full of young women, one of my housemates got asked to do a groom's cake because the baker got sick. She graciously said yes, and then something came up and she couldn't do it. I wasn't even a choice in the mix, I just happened to be in the wrong right place, at the wrong right time. I was young and full of confidence that I could do anything I put my mind to, so I made the cake. 

Someone at that wedding loved it and asked for the same thing. That kept happening and then the groom's cake turned into the wedding cake, and that kept happening. If you can't tell, I have a hard time saying no.

I love to bake. I also love art, so cake making kind of filled a creative need in my life. I have made some super fun cakes for my kids over the years. It's a labor of love, but I LOVE my kids, so it's a no brainer.

Birthday cakes are fun. For one thing, most people don't really care what the cake looks like as long as it tastes good.  Also, a person has many, many birthdays over the years, so if a cake is crooked, well, there's always next year. Birthday cakes normally don't need to feed more than 20 or so people, so they're also a pretty manageable size. One round of baking two or three layers, some icing and decorations, and you're done. 

Wedding cakes are a whole different story. You have ONE wedding (well, at least that's what we hope). A wedding cake is a BIG part of the reception. People walk by and look at it, the bride and groom have a whole ceremony to cut and taste it, and there are pictures...LOTS and LOTS of pictures. Wedding cakes usually have to feed over 150 people. That's hours and hours and hours of baking layers and layers and layers of cakes. And wedding cakes need to be straight and even. Sigh...I love art, but I can't draw a straight line with a ruler. Then there's the buckets and buckets of frosting, carrying it up and down the stairs to my basement. And the tears, oh yes, there's been lots of tears. My cakes are a far cry from perfection and there are moments when that just kills me.

Through the years, I've kind of settled into one cake that I can do and it (mostly) turns out pretty good - not perfect, but pretty good. I've gained some wisdom that has helped me get rid of my need for perfection. I've also learned my limits (We won't talk about the naked cake I did for 300 that included a different flavor and filling for every level and ended up looking like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Seriously, we tried to tilt the table to balance the cake. That was the first time I left the reception area sobbing. Sigh...).  The flavors change, but the size and design stay the same and I've become somewhat comfortable doing it.

So I baked all the layers of this cake Tuesday when the basketball games got cancelled. I stacked and filled and put the crumb coating on Thursday, finishing in the wee hours of the morning. And today, after school, I finished it up and successfully walked it down to the basement fridge without dropping it. You might laugh at this feat, but I'm telling you that six layer cake, stacked on a marble platter weighs a ton. Cakes can't be propped up on your hip or leaned against your body. They have to be carried away from your body, arms extended. It's a workout.

Today I'm grateful that it all went fairly well. I haven't cried...yet. My family ate dinner, and I will be in bed before midnight. 

Now all I have to do is carry it back up the stairs and out to the car. Then it has to be driven across town, carried out of the car and into the reception area, where hopefully flowers will be waiting for me to decorate it. Prayers appreciated.

I Hold the Future in my Hands...Well, at least, in my Classroom

We have a student teacher in our elementary school right now. Not only is she a student teacher, she's a mom to two of my students, as well as an alumna of our school, and a dear friend. Today was her first day in my room and I was so excited to be able to help her.

When you've been doing something for a long time, you tend to forget what it's like to do that thing for the first time. Teaching is not that way for me. 

Today she asked me if I ever get nervous teaching. I was immediately transported to the first time I was in my classroom by myself, in my first teaching job. I was standing in the middle of my room before the start of school and a wave of terror hit me. The thought crossed my mind that I could tell these students anything I wanted, run my class any way I chose, and no one would be the wiser. The tremendous responsibility of what I had chosen to do hit me like a ton of bricks. These souls are in my care. I am responsible for them for the hours I have them (which some days may be more than they spend with their parents). It...was...HUGE.

And yes, when I taught my first year, I was not much older than my students. I was teaching a few subjects I had not studied in college. I was only one day ahead of them in the material I was teaching. That was scary too. 

Five years of teaching high school, raising five kids, years and years of tutoring, and now in my fifth year at the elementary level, I don't feel those nerves anymore. I am fully aware that I am holding the future in my hands. When I was young, I wanted to change the world. I'm not doing it in the way I imagined, but I understand that I'm making my mark - one student at a time.

Today, as I walked my friend through some of my procedures and the thought processes behind them, I realized that I can also make a difference by training teachers. Mackenzie has been begging me to come take over for one of hers, who none of her classmates like. From what Mackenzie has told me, she should not be teaching anyone, let alone teachers. If anyone should be great at teaching, it should be the people teaching teachers. How else will they be inspired to greatness?

Though the thought of doing that appeals to me, it would break my heart to leave "my kids". I love my job. I don't always want to get up and go to work, but I always love what I do and who I do it for. I told my friend today that when I get a classroom of students, the Lord gives me a true love for them. Kids that drive me crazy during recess and parking lot duty years before they are in the fourth grade, suddenly seem different when they're my students.

That's a grace, a true gift, that I can't explain. Today I am so grateful for that.

Let's Look and Listen

Today I felt the Holy Spirit's promptings and the courage to follow them. 

Yesterday at school, I noticed an older man walking through our school halls praying for us. He is a leader and has been walking through all of our buildings and property every school day for years. He doesn't draw attention to himself. He just walks through quietly doing what I'm sure the Holy Spirit prompted him to do.

Yesterday, I was feeling the weight of that unanswered prayer of mine. I have good days and bad. At times I'm filled with the hope that God is still in the miracle business and He will hear and answer me. Other times, it feels like maybe my will isn't God's and I'm going to have to live with that forever. 

I had one of those moments as I plopped into a chair in the teachers' "lounge" waiting for a break in the music class yesterday. I was deflated and then I saw this sweet man walk by with the same sweet smile on his face. I was so grateful in that moment. I knew he was praying for me, my class, all of us, and the simple knowledge of that made me feel better. 

Today, as my class was working on math, I felt I should write him a thank you note. Unlike I often do (which is to put things like that off until I tend to forget them or talk myself out of them), I stopped what I was doing and wrote him a thank you card. The great thing about elementary kids is that they love to run errands, so I sent the first two who finished to hand deliver the note. 

At the end of school, he stopped by to thank me for thanking him. Saying that makes me smile. 

Tonight I had a nice chat with the young athletic director of the school we were playing at the basketball game. When he found out I teach at the school, he said he knows a good friend of mine, who teaches at his school. "I think she's one of the best teachers we've ever had," he let me know in no uncertain terms. 

When I was eating dinner, I shot that friend a text to let her know what he said. 

Two super simple things to bless two super sweet people. How different would our lives look if we all looked and listened for promptings like that? What would happen if we actually followed through?

Let's give it a shot.

Surrounded by Love

 

I work in a small school. I teach a class of 12 students and it's the only fourth grade class we have. Kindergarten through fifth grade have self contained classrooms all in the same building. There are seven full time teachers in my building.

I do not exaggerate when I tell you I work with some of the best people anywhere. Let me tell you about a few things that happened just today.

Before the kids arrived, the kindergarten teacher popped her head in my room to give her condolences about last night's game. Then she added, "I told my carpool that if any of them say anything mean to you or to Felicity, I will have their heads!" 

During the once a week music class they have, I ran into our principal (who also happens to be Felicity's teacher, and my dear friend). We talked about some deep issues concerning school. She not only gets to school early every day to open all of our classrooms and turn on the lights, she listens to my concerns and acts on them. She has my back and is a superb educator.

The PE teacher and I chatted as I gathered things for my bulletin board. She offered to pray for me, as she so often does. She is a true servant and loves our students.

At lunch, one of the teachers commented on my new shirt, and another added how beautiful I looked today. Comments like that make me so joyful. I have friends who are secure enough to notice the beauty in others and tell them. How great is that?!

As I went out for recess duty, I caught the fifth grade teacher and we discussed different teaching challenges. She teaches across the hall from me and is always so gracious with her time. She lets me talk things out, ask questions, and pick her brain for ideas. 

This is just one day. I get to work with these women five days a week and it is a gift indeed. They feed my soul by encouraging me, and by just being who they are. God knew I was going to need to be surrounded by people like this in the hard seasons. I'm so glad He surrounded me with these ladies. 

A Bit of Class

Today I'm grateful for my upbringing. I always am, but today seems a good day to focus on that. 

I was born in Tuscaloosa, while my dad was in graduate school at the University of Alabama. I was baptized in the chapel on campus. I have said, "Roll Tide" from the time I could talk. It's never been a question. It's in my veins. Win or lose, good team or not, great season or not, I stay the course.

That wasn't much of a problem when I lived in Alabama. Of course, there were the Auburn fans, but there didn't seem to be many of them. And then we moved to Georgia, where it's not so cool to be a Bama fan...especially in recent years. 

At the rare Alabama game we've attended in Athens, we've been kicked out of tailgating areas, had stuff thrown at us, been barked and spit at, and all around been treated like trash. Similar things have happened to us at home. For some reason, people love to hate Bama and everything and everyone attached to it. That has never deterred me, but it sure does take some of the fun out of it.

Tonight is the National Championship game and my social media has been filled with my so called friends shooting birds, comparing Coach Saban to Satan, and every other kind of bad mouthing I can't mention. I had to turn it off. 

I'm happy for Georgia. They've had a strong season. It's been a long time since they've won a title and I get what a big deal it is for them. I was raised to be a gracious fan, win or lose. When we win, we celebrate big in our house, hang our flags, and wear our gear. When we lose, we admit defeat, fly our flags, and still wear our gear. Once a Bama fan, always a Bama fan. 

Today, and every day, I'm grateful that my parents taught me a bit of class. They taught me how to hold my head high in victory and defeat, to learn from my mistakes, and to recognize and appreciate greatness when I see it. 

Win or lose tonight, I will love my Tide. I will support them and celebrate how amazing it is that they're playing for another championship. I will not be rolling anyone's house. I will not be putting containers of Tide in their yards. If they win, what will they do? We shall see.

And on the Seventh Day He Rested

About fifteen years ago, when we were in the middle of building this house, we were exhausted. Nelson was working a full time job, coming home to change, and then putting in another six to seven hours a night on the house. He put full days in on Saturdays and Sundays. I had three little ones and another on the way. I was choosing and buying everything from plumbing fixtures to tile, and hauling it over to the house, while packing up the old one.

One Sunday at mass, the priest looked out into the congregation and said, "Sunday is a day of rest and I think you all have forgotten that. You look worn out. Go home today and take a nap." It was an odd thing to hear during a homily, but I had to admit, he had a point.

As he was shaking hands after church, he took Nelson's hand in his. "You're not working on the house today are you?" 

"Father," Nelson said gently, "my ox is in a ditch."

Father repeated his question, still gripping Nelson's hand and Nelson repeated his answer. The third time Father added his other hand to Nelson's hand enveloping it. He looked him square in the eye and commanded, "You're NOT working on the house today."

Nelson softly replied, "Yes, Father," withdrew his hand and walked away.

As much as I wanted the house to be finished (we were now in a race to get it finished before Max arrived), I was very grateful for that lesson. I missed my husband and was happy to have him home for something other than sleeping and eating. 

To this day, I try desperately to keep those words in mind. I mean, it's one of the commandments (Keep h

Holy the Sabbath) AND it's in the Bible (And on the seventh day he rested). We eat leftovers on Sundays most of the time. I try not to do laundry or any major cleaning. We try to keep activity to what is necessary or fun. And, I'm not going to lie, I love a good Sunday nap. You know that t-shirt that says, "Sundays are for Jesus and naps"? That was made for me.

Today I'm grateful for a day of rest. I'm grateful for time at mass with my family and time around the table eating and sharing stories. I'm grateful for game nights, long conversations, and quiet time. And I'm especially grateful for a God who knew we would need this built in time to focus on Him and to just be.

Sweet Shot

This morning started bright and early (as far as Saturday mornings go) at the gym for Felicity's basketball game. I've never been much of a morning person. I do what needs to be done and get where I need to go, but I'm not super joyful about it, especially on a weekend after the first week back after a long break. 

Needless to say, we were down to the wire to get her to the gym on time. Even after five kids, I tend to forget that they don't, or can't, move at warp speed. I forget that not only do I need to get myself ready, but I also need to make sure teeth are brushed, the ponytail is in place, and shoes and socks are on. This morning, that all happened while I was spelling things to go in a birthday card she was making for a friend.

We rushed to the car with exactly four minutes to spare. Thank God I live less than a mile from the school! As we were pulling out, I realized I didn't have my phone. I also knew that if I went back for it, Felicity would be late. So, the phone stayed and we left.

She took her place with a few minutes to spare. I found a place in the bleachers and waited to cheer on my girl. These games in the past have been an exercise in frustration for Felicity. She is my rule follower and perfection seeker. She plays her position and is forever irritated that nobody will pass the ball. She has the awareness that she's where she's supposed to be, she's open, and so the ball should come to her. Her fellow teammates think more like, "I have the ball, so I will shoot."

As I was watching her in the first half of her game, I was wishing I had my phone to record a few moments. Then it happened. She came up with the rebound, turned toward the goal, and finally took her shot.

NOTHING...BUT...NET!

When she saw that ball swish, she immediately turned towards the bleachers, mouth smiling while gaping open, eyes wide with excitement. She pumped her fists in the air as she caught my eye and then turned back to the game, ponytail swaying.

In that moment, I found myself truly grateful that I didn't have my phone. I've learned that when I'm looking through my camera, trying to get the perfect shot, I often miss the game. Not this time. I watched the whole thing. I enjoyed every precious expression. I was in the moment down to the end when I preemptively walked down the bleachers so that as she raced across the court, I could catch her in her running hug and gush over her total awesomeness. 

There is no way I could have captured that moment on film. I'm no professional, so whatever I got would have been blurry, or right before or after that ideal moment. And even if I did, there's no way it would have exuded the pure joy I saw on her face.

Today I'm grateful for the reminder that it's okay to be unplugged. It's okay to just experience the moment instead of trying to capture it for Instagram. And, I am so, so, so grateful that I was able to do that for this moment in my eight-year-old's life. With five kids, there are many times I can't be there for one, because I'm somewhere else for another. But today, I got to be right where I was supposed to be. I got to drink in the delight. I got to absorb the hug. I got to walk with her and listen to her relive it in her own words. 

It was a sweet shot indeed, but an even sweeter moment to savor.

This Too Shall Pass

It's been a long and tiring week. I came home from school and did my workout. That and a shower was all I had time for before I had to head right back to school to keep the books for the basketball games. Ask my kids, after a week (really, just a day) like this, my mind literally turns off. I've learned that if I can get to sleep earlier, I do much better. Only...I don't have time to sleep.

However, when I make a promise to someone, especially God, I do my best to keep it. So...here I am.

Today I'm thankful it's Friday. I'm thankful that the weather has finally turned cold again. And most of all, I'm thankful for my warm bed, which is where I'm heading now because I have to get up early so I can go back to school for another day of basketball. 

Oh..and I'm also grateful that basketball doesn't last forever. 

I Still Need My Mama

Felicity came into my classroom right before lunch and said, "I don't feel good Mama."

"What's the matter?" I asked, hoping it would be nothing.

"My stomach really hurts," she weakly replied.

"Like you might throw up?" 

She nodded and I knew. I asked a few more prodding questions hoping a trip to the bathroom or eating lunch might help, but she was undeterred. 

Stomachaches are the worst. There's no real proof that anything's wrong unless vomiting ensues. As a teacher, that's the last thing I want happening in my classroom, so I never want another teacher to have to deal with that from my kid. 

"If you leave school, you know that means no basketball, no friends over, and no playing outside. If you're too sick for school, you're too sick for those things."

"I know," she sighed. "It really hurts though."

This was a little simpler when I was home during the day - not convenient, but simple. Now that I'm working, it's a bit more complicated. I work in a small school and there's no group of subs to call. The other teachers can cover for me and do in an emergency (like when Max got hit in the eye with a soccer ball and I had to take him to the ER because he couldn't see), but it takes a lot of juggling and tremendous sacrifice.

I called Nelson and he wasn't available. I called my mom and she didn't answer. It was lunchtime, so I had to get my class to the cafeteria. I told Felicity to stay put and I would go see my dad, who was teaching in the same building the cafeteria is in.

Dad's class was almost over so he immediately said he'd take Felicity home and if mom wasn't available, he'd watch her until after school. As my class ate, I helped Felicity gather her things and then walked her back to my dad.

That was it. I didn't worry about her after that. I knew my dad would love on her and mom would be able to fix whatever ailed her.

It's definitely not the first time my parents have come to my rescue, and I feel certain it won't be the last. Don't think I don't know how blessed I am to be able to call on my mom and dad when I need them. Believe me...I KNOW.

Before Nelson was working for himself, he was offered many, many opportunities for promotions and raises if he was willing to move. He always turned them down. "You can't buy what we have here," he told people. We both have parents and siblings in town, as well as a very deep network of extended family that would do anything for us if we asked them.

Today (and really, every day) I am grateful for my parents and the many, many ways they allow me to do what I do. I am grateful they made the sacrifice to move our family to a place where we have such a rich network of people who love and support us. I am grateful for the example of service to others they're still setting, even though they are well into their "golden years" and have earned the right to sit back and relax. 

I know relationships with parents can be complicated, but  I challenge you to think of one or two examples of how yours have blessed you during your life...and then thank them. If nothing else, they're the reason you're here and I think that's pretty great in and of itself. 

A Wink and a Smile...AND a Hug

Today I spent my only free time at school, as well as part of the next period, auditioning middle and high school kids for the oral interpretation portion of the upcoming Regional Literary Competition. 

If you don't know me, this kind of stuff is in my wheelhouse, performing on stage from elementary through high school, directing plays for over 20 years, as well as acting in commercials here and there. When I was a kid and my friends were playing house, I was pretending to accept my Academy Award. The school has tried to wrangle me into coaching these kids for years, and for years I turned them down because I was "too busy".

Last year, one of my dear friends, who also happens to be a teacher at the school and the head the entire Literary Competition, called and made a desperate plea. Without Nelson and I as coaches, we wouldn't  be able to send any of our kids to the regionals. Lucky for her, my sons wanted desperately to participate and Nelson said yes for me.

At today's audition, Dawson went first, since as a junior, he was our veteran. He nailed it. He then sat in the back of the classroom as the other kids auditioned. This impressed me since he was the only high school boy there and I'm sure he wanted to eat lunch with his friends. The bell rang for his next class and suddenly I realized there may be an alternative motive at work.  

I asked, "Don't you need to get to class?'

"It's not mandatory," was his quick reply in front of everyone as he was throwing away his trash. 

"Umm...at the high school level, every class is mandatory," I replied in full teacher/mom mode. 

He flashed his sweet, sly grin, and looked at me from under his mop of hair. Then, the whole world stopped as he came toward me (sitting at the front of the class...in front of everyone in the room) and extended his arms towards me for a hug. I stood and embraced him as I gushed to all of the younger kids about how great my son is.

And that's the moment I clung to all day - my 17 year-old hugging me...in front of his friends. 

As I left that classroom to walk across the courtyard to the elementary building, I passed by an open classroom door and spotted Max. Still high on my hug, I stopped a moment and just stared at my 8th grader. He glanced my way and gave me a wink and a smile that melted my heart. 

These are the moments that remind me that underneath the apathy, teenage angst, and bravado are some pretty great kids with good hearts. They are fuel that feed my soul and I'm oh, so grateful for them.

"We Ready" for all the Little Moments

Today sent me back into my whirlwind of a life. I was up before dawn to wake the kids and get ready for work. Family prayers at 7:30, followed by brushing hair, brushing teeth, finishing up packing lunches and out the door to school, kids in tow. I arrived early to prepare for a new student who is joining my class. It's my second new student who has always been homeschooled. That meant rearranging desks, labeling books, and the like. And, oh yeah, we're back to wearing masks. 

It was a lot to deal with along with the normal pains of reentry. The students were expectedly slow to jump back in to the fast pace I keep in my classroom. There were a million questions (all very understandable) from the new student. There were extra text messages about gathering the week's work for a student who's out sick, arranging to be at auditions for the upcoming literary competition, making changes to the Little Sisters' calendar, keeping books at which basketball game and when, picking up Max's teammates for the game, and, oh yeah...making the wedding cake I couldn't say no to. I literally couldn't breathe (I mentioned the masks right?).

We arrived back home with enough time to change clothes, review Spelling words, and answer some of the outstanding texts. Then I had a house full of 8th grade boys that needed to get to their game. I corralled them towards the car to find my keys were missing. I (almost) ALWAYS hang my keys in the laundry room. I was sure I had, and yet, they were not there at the moment I needed to be leaving. After a brief search in the three places I had been since coming home, I decided to ask my home from college son if he had seen them. I'm so glad I did because for some odd reason, he had put them back in the car. Sigh...

We made one stop to add another boy to the group and were on our way across town to the game. The conversation was fun and inclusive (even of me). Then it switched to them asking for some "pump up music", for which Max commandeered my phone. As I pulled into the parking lot, and dropped them at the door, the lyrics "We ready", were blasting from the car. Years ago, this would have embarrassed me. Today I took it in stride. I mean, how great is it that my kid and his friends left my car laughing and totally pumped to play some ball?

I keep the books for both of the boy's teams, and often for the girls since I usually stay at the gym anyway. Tonight however, someone offered to do the girls' game. I'm glad that happened because during that game I got a call from Dawson, who couldn't find his basketball shoes for his game, which was next. "I can only think I might have left them at the Christmas tournament." 

I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "How would you have done that? Did you go back to the hotel after the game?" As I asked the question calmly, I was also secretly patting myself on the back for not losing my mind. 

"You know, they could be on the bus," he responded. "You're right. We didn't go back to the hotel."

It just so happened that his coach, who is also the high school principal, was standing right in front of me. "Hey," I shouted across the bleachers, "you don't remember seeing some basketball shoes on the bus do you?'

Thankfully, he did. Dawson got off the phone with me and called him. He guided Dawson to finding the bus key, and ultimately, his shoes. I knew this because as I was finishing my burger in the concession area with Max and Nelson, Dawson showed up in time for warmups, the correct shoes on his feet. 

You might assume that I'm going to end here by saying how grateful I am that Dawson found his shoes in time for his game. And, indeed, I am grateful that happened. However, I'm much more grateful for the bigger picture which, oddly enough, is not the big thing at all.

Sure my life is crazy and busy, but it's also blessed and beautiful. The older (and even perhaps wiser) I get, I am learning to relish the little moments instead of always searching for the big ones. I'm grateful for my sons AND their friends who don't mind including me in their jokes and conversations (although at this age they are often quite disgusting and inappropriate). I'm grateful that they still call me when they need me for the little and big things. I'm thankful I get to share their stats with them post game. I love that I get to listen to their conversations with their teammates as they wait at the table to be subbed back into the game. I'm hopeful (as well as prayerful) that these are the moments that will make a lasting impression. That in the end, they remember that I showed up for them like my parents always did for me. 

I'm grateful for all of the little moments that allow me to love my kids. I plan to spend this year finding as many of those as I can. 

A Simple Prayer

Sometimes there are challenging days, and other times there are challenging seasons. In the challenging seasons, sometimes days are great and filled with hope, and other days something bad happens and you fall down the rabbit hole of sadness. You know how that goes. One thing goes wrong and you mull it around in your mind until you remember another bad thing that happened recently, which leads to something else that happened a month ago, and suddenly you're listening to the lies that you're no good, nobody cares for you, and so you must be a total failure.

It all sounds so depressing and sad doesn't it? It is, or would be, if that were the truth. However, even if you've stumbled across this blog and I have never met you, I can promise you that nothing could be farther from the truth. You are a son or daughter of THE KING and I guarantee that your creator both loves and adores you. If we were all perfect people, we could live in that truth and the bad things would be just that - bad things. 

Unfortunately, we're humans with free will and well, I don't know about you, but I'm definitely not perfect. There are times when I live in the knowledge that Jesus loves me and He's listening to my heartfelt prayers. There are also times when I feel like I've waited long enough, prayed hard enough, fasted for as long as needed, and I think it's about time I get what I want. I have gained a little bit of wisdom in this area and the older I get, the more I find myself simply praying that God's perfect will be done. I figure He always answers that one. 

Last month I took on the St. Andrew, or Christmas novena. It's kind of intense as far as novenas go. Instead of nine days, you pray it every day from November 30th until Christmas, and instead of one prayer, you say the prayer fifteen times each day. Like I said, it's intense, but it's also beautiful, as well as a wonderful way to stay focused on the true meaning of Christmas. I said it this year with a very specific intention in mind, fully expecting that I would receive a Christmas miracle. The hope that prayer gave me was a big part of how I maintained my peace in the midst of one of the busiest times of the year.

Then Christmas came and went. New Years came and went. Epiphany came and went. And my intention went unanswered. 

Last night I was kind of slapped in the face with the reality that not only was my prayer not answered, it's probably going to be a very long time until it is...if ever. Those are the tough moments to maintain faith. When your prayers seem pure and unselfish and you still don't get the answer you're looking for, it's hard to keep praying. Even though I've lived a long enough life to count my many blessings and know that God loves me, sometimes in my humanness, I don't feel that at all. 

I'm going to be honest, I cried until I couldn't cry any more last night. I cried out to the Lord mostly, but I also just cried because I was sad. I'm not proud to say that I struggled through my tears to find three things to be grateful for, but I did it anyway. And then I remembered that I have a tool at my disposal to fight the sadness - prayer. 

I laid there and said a familiar prayer I often pray as I fall asleep, "Jesus, I trust in You." I said it over and over and over until I began to come to terms with the fact that I believe it. It's a simple prayer and that's what I love about it. I can say it when I'm crying, when I'm terrified, or when I'm falling asleep at night. I can say it while I'm cooking dinner, folding laundry, and running carpools. I can even say it in the middle of teaching when things get a little crazy or challenging. I've never timed it, but I'm guessing it doesn't take more than a second or two to get the words out. 

It didn't change anything...except me.

Today I'm grateful for simple prayers. Prayers I can lean on when I can't come up with any other words to pray. Prayers that in their simplicity demonstrate the beauty of our faith. Prayers so simple a child can say them, yet so deep an adult can meditate on them and be changed. 

I'm finding that prayer isn't, in the end, as much about changing situations, as it is about changing the person praying. I do it daily and I'm so grateful that God is willing to work with...ahem, on, me when I do. 

Jesus, I trust in You!

Life's Simple Pleasures

Last night found me in a rare moment - home, almost alone. It was just me and Felicity, who I had already read to and spent some quality time with on some Christmas gift projects. I didn't feel guilty at all when she asked if she could watch a show while she ate the gourmet peanut butter and jelly sandwich I put down in front of her. Actually, I felt a little guilty about the sandwich, but she turned down all of the amazing leftovers I had in my fridge so that was the only other option.

I got her settled and told her I'd be in the bathroom if she needed me. I decided I was going to take a bath and enjoy the quiet. 

I need to let that statement sit there a moment. You see, I'm not a bath person. When we built our home and designed the master bathroom, we actually debated about putting a tub in. Neither of us are bathers and it seemed impractical to put one in. However, we knew at some point we'd probably sell this house and a master bath without a bath, well, it doesn't sell easily.

The tub we chose is quite nice. We've used it over the years for allowing the kids to have a fun swim/bath, as well as when we had the dog that decided pooping in the kennel and rolling around in it every night for months was a good idea. When I was running and struggling with IT band issues, I took several very painful (I mean helpful) ice baths. Other than that, I can probably count on two hands the number of times I've actually used the bathtub in the fourteen years we've lived here.

I've read a few books recently by the author, Matthew Kelly, and I love him. He has a website www.dynamiccatholic.com and I just finished his "Best Advent Ever". Whether or not your Catholic, I HIGHLY recommend you check his stuff out. I cannot say enough good things about the wisdom he shares. I watched a video recently in which he lists "13 Simple Pleasures to Refresh Your Soul". I mean, who wouldn't be at least tempted to see what that includes? I've been trying to include some of them in my days while I'm on Christmas break and they do indeed feed my soul. Guess what number five is. That's right, "Take a hot bath."

I don't avoid baths because I don't like them. I simply don't have time for them. To me, a bath is not for getting clean (I do that in the shower), and so it has always seemed like a self-indulgent luxury that I never felt I could afford. I mean, it takes a good 10 -15 minutes just to fill up the tub and then you have to sit in it for at least that long to make it worth the effort (in my mind at least). Usually by the time I even consider it, it's so late I'd rather just go to bed.

But last night was different. The house was basically empty at 7:15 and I had worked through a large "to do" list already. And, well, my soul needed to be fed. So I started the tub while I hopped in the shower. Like I said, I don't like to use the tub for bathing. I'm weird. 

When at last I stepped into the tub, I lit some candles and turned the lights low. I decided bubbles might be nice so I poured in some soap and turned on the jets. I began to giggle as the bubbles got higher and higher, waiting so see how high they would go before I chickened out and turned off the jets. By the time I did that, I had enough bubbles that I could actually lift my hands out of the water and not see them because there were so many. It was like being a kid again. I experimented with how high I could lift my feet and arms before they broke the bubbly surface. I sat as still as I could and listened to the tiny crackling sounds of the bursting bubbles. I watched as the glassy surface of the bubbles glisten gold from the candle light. I spent some moments in prayer. And then, I continued to sit, not thinking, just being...and enjoying.

That's when I figured out why this was one thing on a short list of simple pleasures. All thirteen of the things on that list aren't about accomplishing anything other than slowing down and enjoying the moment. In my life with five kids, a full time job, and a calendar that rarely, if ever, has an empty day, I seldom take the time to do that. There are barely moments in my day when I can. 

And yet, the Lord has been opening my eyes to moments that are there for the taking if I make the choice to unplug and let go of my schedule. Those occasions are usually only a few minutes, but they can often be the fuel I need to complete long days. In short, I am a better version of myself when I seize those moments, not necessarily the day. 

So today I am grateful for hot baths, massive bathtubs, glistening bubbles, and candles. Try it sometime. I have a feeling you will be too.

Eternally Grateful

 2022...I can remember thinking about the year 2000 when I was in elementary school. I had a feeling it would be like an episode of the Jetsons, flying cars, robotic servants, and the like. I had visions of being the first woman anything - first female president, astronaut, whatever. I had some pretty big plans for a little girl.

And here I am now, half a decade old (did I just admit that?), a house full of teenagers, a young adult, and an eight-year-old. I always dreamed of being a mom, it's true. However, my dreams didn't include the heart-wrenching struggles that being married and raising children would bring. Reality is often a harsh wake up.

There have been ups and down for sure. I've noticed that over the past few years, I've focused more on the downs. Turns out, I'm really good at complaining. Maybe that's because the last several years have had some rather devastating downs. Or, maybe it's because that's all I've been able to see. Life is kind of funny that way. 

Sometime last year, I remembered what a favorite priest friend shared one time in a homily. "Before I lift my head off the pillow in the morning, I thank God for three things." It wasn't an earth-shattering concept, but something about it stuck with me and I began to try it. That was when things were going well and it was kind of easy. Then, somehow in the midst of some painful stuff, I forgot about it. It wasn't a decision so much as a change of focus. 

Something in me changed in the midst of those trials. Maybe it was a midlife crisis, maybe it was that life got hard, or maybe I simply lost focus. One thing was for sure, I was lost. I wasn't happy with much of anything, not the church I love, the life I live, or the way I was living. I became so restless and joyless, I didn't recognize myself. I knew something was off, but I couldn't figure out what it was or how to fix it.

I knew I needed some changes, so...I made a lot of them. I got myself a spiritual director,  sought out a woman older and wiser than me for guidance, went through some intense prayer ministry, and returned to thanking the Lord for three things before I even open my eyes in the morning.

There have been a lot of tears along the journey, but I can honestly say that I'm in the best spiritual place I've been in a very long time (arguably the best of my life). Not many of the "outside" details of my life have changed, if any. The change has been in me, the only person I'm capable of changing. I believe a lot of that has to do with a refocus on gratitude.

Not only do I thank the Lord for three things before rising, I thank Him for three different things before I fall asleep. I've learned to thank Him for the challenges He sends my way. I even thank Him for the things I don't like. Something changes when you force yourself to do that, and that something is you.

As I was praying (actually more like begging, prostrate on my floor) this morning for a better year in 2022, I heard the Lord challenge me. I haven't blogged in over four years, but I heard Him tell me it was time to head back to this little space. Only, this time, He had a theme for me - 365 days of gratitude (think Julie & Julia only instead of learning to cook, I'll be learning to be more grateful). 

Today I'm very grateful I was able to recover this blog (and hopefully I'll be able to do it again tomorrow).

I hope you'll join me on this journey. I hope you will choose to thank the Lord for the blessings He pours into your life. I hope you'll pass that on to others. Let's experiment with what gratitude can do!