Friends

I am incredibly blessed to have many, many friends.  I have been granted these gifts by God, and I got to see one of them back in the fall AND again a few weeks ago.

Before Tony and I built our new home, we were attending church in Houston.  A couple of years after we arrived, they hired a children’s minister named Jennifer.  I had been helping out with VBS for a couple of years before Jennifer’s arrival, and I had kids who were still under the children’s ministry umbrella, so Jennifer and I became fast friends.

I can’t even remember how or why. . .we just did.  Really–I know how or why–it was God.  It’s ALWAYS God.

Eventually, we built our home and moved to a new town and a new church home, but Jennifer and I remained friends.  She STILL has “World’s Best Babysitter” status with my kiddos–the only one that comes close is their Aunt Christy–and she’s family.

The long story short is that through several of us walking through doors that God help open, I was able to introduce Jennifer to her husband.  They dated (mainly through text message) and were married a mere 9 months later.  During this time, Jennifer and I helped each other through many, MANY difficult life issues.  Tony and the kids were in Magnolia that year for school, but I was still in our old district.  It was a weight to bear to be away from my family, and it wore on me that year especially. I cannot count the number of Frito Pie burritos and large Sonic Diet Cokes she brought to me at school during my lunch time.  She seemed to have a 6th sense for when I needed her to show up. She was my personal grocery shopper on more than one occasion–just MADE me give her my list and went and bought them all, then brought them to me at the end of the school day.

She spent nights in our guest room when she and Greg finally started dating in earnest.  I’d keep a ready supply of bean salad, Tostitos, Oreos and peanut butter for her. We would talk on my way in to work or on my way home,  and I was with her on her wedding day–going to get her hair done, getting an emergency Diet Coke from Sonic, and being a general runner and taking pictures here and there.

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One of the engagement photos I took of them at our house.

March of this year will make 7 years this sweet couple have been married.  In that 7 years, they have produced FOUR precious babies. . .sweet Jack, and triplets Lillian, Harvey, and Matilda.  I have not gotten to spend much time with her or her babies as they moved to Dallas shortly after they married, then recently moved to Georgia.  What with 6 babies between the two of us–and Jennifer with four ages 5 and under, we don’t get a lot of time to chat–or text–or even send telepathic messages.  But that has not lessened our bonds of friendship.

In September, Jennifer’s brother-in-law (who is our youth minister) was getting married in Dallas.  She had texted me the day before to see if I could help her corral the triplets during the wedding.  I was thrilled to do so and came armed with stickers. That was the first time we had been in touch in about a year.  No matter. . .friendship knows no expiration date.  Which was proven when we were 45 minutes away from arriving in Dallas.  I received a text.

“Are you close enough that you can stop by a Walmart and get some socks for the kids?”  Now–it may sound odd–but that text made my heart happy, happy, happy!  Seriously.  The time and the distance meant nothing at all, because who can you ask to get socks for your kids if you can’t ask your friend?

I had not seen Jennifer in probably three years at this point, but when we arrived at the church, I walked through the door, hugged her husband and the one triplet who was nearby, handed her the socks with no fanfare and said, “I’ll be back in 45 minutes to help with the kids.”

We DID get to talk a very, very little bit at the reception–but it was all okay–we had seen each other.

In late January, Greg’s grandmother passed away.  They all headed to our little town for the memorial service, and I was on hand to keep the kiddos in the nursery!  So fun!!!  On my way to the building, I texted Jennifer, “On my way. What Sonic drink would you like for me to smuggle into the nursery for you?”  Her reply, “Large Coke Zero.  You are my hero.”

In all of our bounty of time together over a few months, we had neglected to get a photograph of the two of us together.  In fact, this one below (from her wedding shower in February of 2010) was the most recent one I had of us.

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My very good friend, Jennifer. She’s ten kinds of awesome.

So that Sunday morning after the memorial service but before church started (and I got to be in the nursery with the four kiddos again–such sweet, sweet babies–and they LOVE their Rice Chex and Cashews) I made a mad dash into the auditorium so that we could take this picture together.

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The lighting isn’t great. . .the weird ceiling we have in our church auditorium is on display. . .there are a few more wrinkles on both of our faces, and we still don’t get much time to talk, but oh how I treasure this friend of mine.  She is a blessing and a treasure and a gift–and I can’t thank God enough for her!

Ummm. . .

There are many reasons for why I’ve been absent from this blog for over a year.  Many of them have to do with having a Senior in high school, now Freshman in college–changes to my job and getting myself established in a new class with creating curriculum and managing over 400 students per year for the past two school years–and creating four year high school plans for them all–plus the 100 that can’t fit into the class.

More than anything, I’ve been tired.  Just flat out exhausted mentally.  I come home after my day of wrangling 30-36 kids per class, cook dinner, and collapse.  Things are beginning to settle in a bit–and I need to write.  I need it for my brain and to remember things–times, events, emotions.  I need it.

Instagram gets most of my thoughts and traffic these days, but that is not REALLY writing.   It’s like fast food when what you REALLY want and/or need is some good, home cooking.  And writing is a good thing.  At least for me.

Last year my word was “perspective.”  This year my word is “this.”  It was inspired by the picture below.  A gal I follow on Instagram saw it outside of a dance studio.  It seems  like nothing. . .it’s not really a big word, but it can mean so much.this

When Victoria was about 3 1/2, we got a box of hand me downs from my friend, Carolyn.  I opened the box and began taking the clothes out as Victoria and I discussed what she wanted to be for Halloween.  All of a sudden, she spotted something in the box, reached in (almost fell in–it was a big box), grabbed a shimmery, shiny, slippery, satiny pink and silver spangled item of clothing and said, “I want to be THIS!”  She didn’t even know what it was–but whatever it was she was going to be it.

So–to me, “This” means whatever is in front of you–whatever you set your mind to do–whatever is your focus needs to be it.  No multi-tasking or running off and doing something else that crosses your mind.  THIS–this moment, this conversation, this nap, this meal, this time with my child or my husband or my friend–THIS is where my focus should be.

2016: Perspective

IMG_7373I am sitting at the breakfast table across from my son.  He is 14 1/2, and has a set of glowing blue headphones on his ears.  We both have laptops in front of us.  He asked what I was looking at.  I told him my blog, then said, “I haven’t written anything in 7 months.”  At which point he applauded.  I asked why he was applauding that, and he said, “Well, at least you aren’t blogging every day like you used to.  You used to spend HOURS on the computer.”

Ah. . .how things have changed.  Now HE spends hours on the computer, and I was just pondering trying to write a post each day to get back into the swing of things.  I am not even really reading blogs anymore, but I need to.  It offers a different perspective on life–what people ponder and reveal and think.

So, on this first day of 2016, I will say that writing is a priority this year.  So is drinking plenty of water, getting good rest, continuing to take care of my body and spirit as well as the bodies and spirits of my little family.

This year is a biggie–Victoria will graduate in June and be off to college in August.  That is not a change I look forward to for me, but it is an adventure I look forward to for her. Thad begins high school in August–without his sister here to guide him and encourage him and make him laugh when we can’t.

Last school year, our principal (young guy) chose one word for 2015.  His word was “finish.” He was working on his doctorate, in the middle of his first year of being a principal, etc.  So, FINISH.  That was a good word.

I have thought about one word for 2016.  There were a couple in the running:  Endure, Faithfulness. . but sitting here just now with me bemoaning my lack of writing and Thad applauding it, I think I have chosen my One Word for 2016.  Perspective.  Much like a just right Christmas gift, or a new pair of shoes, I knew it when I saw it. It fit. It was right.

Perspective.  Perspective on the past and on the future.  Perspective on how my children, my husband and I all view a situation, an event, a memory.  Perspective on them growing up and us growing older.  Perspective on where I live and what I do and how I do it.  Perspective on the students I teach and how we interpret the same information differently.  Perspective on how long it’s taken me to develop or break habits. Perspective on events and choices and decisions.

There is a song by Garth Brooks that most people don’t know.  It was from his ill-fated, short-lived adventure as Chris Gaines.  The song is “That’s the Way I Remember It.”  It’s a song about perspective.

It’s only natural with time
Details can somehow slip your mind
Something so sweet, though incomplete
You fill the spaces in between

It never will be that way again
Maybe it wasn’t, way back when
To my heart and soul
This is the way the story has to be told

That’s the way, I remember it, I remember it that way
From the day, I was living it, I remember it that way

Some of our stories fade as we grow older
Some get sweeter every time they’re told
That’s the way, I’ll remember it that way.

2016:  Perspective

 

 

They Grow

November, Thanksgiving, 2009 344 crpThis is not a news flash.  It is well known throughout the generations.  When one has an infant, they spend many hours worrying about the infant’s health–if they are thriving–growing–getting enough nutrition.  They soon brag about the percentile and what size clothing the baby wears.  Next comes the new and interesting things that the baby, then toddler can do.  Then there is reading and losing teeth, and before you know, both of your infants are taller than you.

November, Thanksgiving, 2009 247 ps crpSuch is the case at my house.  I am trying to get all of my digital photos onto USBs so that I don’t have a catastrophic event and lose them all.  Alas, I am also trying to sort through them to delete the ones that aren’t good and to adjust the ones that need some TLC to remove red eyes or lighten a dark shot.

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Renfest, 2009 Blog_019 crpThis is dangerous business at the end of the school year.  This Momma is worn slap out and is already thinking about what photos to send for Victoria’s “Senior Sunday” slideshow next May.  The time.  It goes.  The kids.  They grow–and grow–and grow–and then they go too.

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November, Thanksgiving, 2009 280 ps2 crpAnd that is as it should be.  If they get stuck, or don’t thrive–if they aren’t successful, then other sadnesses arise.  This sadness is a good one.  My children are thriving, growing, learning, and they are just such GOOD kids.  But, oh, the the sighings of the heart–the tightening of the throat–the loosing of the tears over the discomfort of stretching, stretching apron strings.

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The Same

Romans 8:11 “And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit, who lives in you.”

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Long time ago when Thad was barely 3, and I first went back to work, I drove Tony’s truck.  It was a five-speed, on the floor, Ford F150.  I also drove it when I was pregnant with Victoria which was interesting enough. . .but by the time it was “my” vehicle again, both the babies were born and riding to school with their Daddy every day.

Each morning, I would get up, get dressed–get the kids downstairs and fed and hugged and hugged some more, then I would leave for work dressed in  my cute, home-sewn skirt and some pastel top–teacher flats–hair coiffed, makeup applied, perfumed. . .and off I’d go.

More than once at a particular traffic light at FM1960 and Jones Rd., I would have to stop and wait several minutes to turn left to head to my campus.  During those times, I got more than one strange look.

Everyone from teenagers to truck drivers would look over at this beat up, faded, rusty, beleaguered pick-up (like people do who sit at four minute traffic lights), yet inside sat a  relatively young AND relatively plump lady dressed nicely for work–NOT the doo-rag/baseball cap wearing, scruffy, flannel-shirted geezer they expected to see.  (Nothing against doo-rags, caps, flannel, OR geezers).  Their faces registered sleepiness or boredom, then shock, then either surprise or humor–and quite often I received a wave or a thumbs up with their chuckles–a head shake as if to say, “Well, if that don’t beat all!” A curly-haired, 30-something lady was not the status-quo for a vehicle of such. . .character.

And that is how we are isn’t it?    To the outside world, at a glance, we are beleaguered.  Worn out.  Scarred.  Dusty.  Rusty.  Bent.  “Hard-pressed on every side, perplexed, persecuted, struck down. . .” (II Cor. 4:8&9) There is an expectation of how we will behave–respond–react.  Many days we, ourselves,  feel each dent and scratch.  We stutter and stop when the clutch is released rather than move along.

Yet a closer look–a time to stop and ponder–one more turn of the key with a firm foot to the gas shows those nearby and reminds us that we are NOT crushed or in despair or abandoned or destroyed.   “For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made HIS light shine in our HEARTS to give us the LIGHT of the knowledge of the GLORY of God in the FACE of Christ.” (II Cor. 4:6) The LIGHT of the knowledge of the GLORY of God in the FACE of Christ is to shine from OUR  faces–from our smiles–from our eyes–from our souls–clean, shiny, dressed up, and smellin’ good!

“Therefore, we do not lose heart.  Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.” (II Cor. 4:16)

Rusty, dusty, bent? Yes.  But on the inside–renewed, clean, whole, sanctified, and purring like a kitten!

 

Turning to a New Page

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The school year is coming to a close, and about three weeks ago my principal asked me to teach a new class this year.  And it’s not Language Arts OR Reading OR any combination thereof.  I was shocked and amazed–and honored and appreciative.

This has been a year in which I have grown and stretched and learned as a teacher.  And now, that will continue next year as well.  I keep on telling my kids that you will have to learn ALL  of your life.

In the mean time, I am ready for summer.  I am ready to go through photographs (like the one above) and tell their stories.  This one was from October, 2012 when Tony surprised me with a trip to Round Top–which is a big antiques fair nearby.  It was all his own idea and it was a wonderful trip.

Hopefully this new page I’m turning at work will give me a little more room to breathe–but even if it doesn’t, summer vacation is on the way and the year ahead is going to be full of endings and beginnings.  I need a nice, long break before we begin.

Perfect

I have not written in a long time.  There has been no time, I say.  Of course, there has been time. . .I have just used it differently–in other ways–walking, cooking, creating test questions, calling parents, running errands.  I just read a book where the main character is an artist who hasn’t done art for almost two decades.  She writes to an old friend–a lengthy, rambling letter–and the friend says to her, “Stop this.  You must create or you will become a menace to society.”  I think I might need to hang that up over every door I walk through on a daily basis.  I must create or I will become a menace to society.

Photo with different filters.  (I don’t know this little girl, nor did I ask her mother’s permission to photograph her or put her on the internets–however, I will say that she looks like any 15-18 month old little girl on the beach from a distance.)  This falls under the category of creating–not being a menace to society.

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Break

Today is the first day of the rest of our Christmas break.  It involved teaching, napping, cooking, driving, reading, (not all simultaneously) and now writing followed by resting followed (tomorrow) by shopping.  Sunday will be more driving and then visiting my family in Louisiana.

This year has been busy and full and hard and exhausting, but we are all healthy and under one roof and blessed beyond belief.

I left all school work at school.  My desk is as unburied as it has been all year long.  There are still papers to grade–and other papers to SAY I will grade until the end of the nine weeks when I will recycle them and suffer the ensuing guilt.  But, for now, for today, I have a two week vacation staring me in the face, and I plan to enjoy every second of it.  I can say in all truth and honesty that I have EARNED it.

 

Chopped Poetry: The results

This is an actual letter that I sent to three administrators and the P.A.S.S. teacher (a different take on adaptive behavior programs–kids who have very specific acting out tendencies) regarding one of the most surprising results from Chopped Poetry.  This came from an 8th grade student that I teach.

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I did an experimental lesson in my room last week over poetry.  It actually went pretty well, but I had to share this one with you.  The kids picked an envelope with “ingredients.”.  This student chose free verse.  In the envelope were the following items that HAD to be in their poem:

Type: Free Verse
Topic: Music
Figurative Language:  repetition, personification
As it runs through the wild
listen to him
 
The shriek of his roar,
his footsteps like thunder against the
ground.
 
When he runs
The wind whips by him with a cry.
 
This is Heavy Metal.
This is freedom.
by Zach Simpson (name changed)
 
Once I had completed the explanation and directions for the students, I went to wake  Zach up to tell him the directions.  When I shook his shoulder and said, “Zach?”  He didn’t even raise his head–he just whipped this paper out from under his face and held it aloft.  I let him finish his nap.
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Zach’s “target behaviors” that he must avoid to participate in Friday Funday are being verbally and physically aggressive toward teachers and students as well as leaving the instructional area or school building without permission.  I have seen none of those behaviors, but I do spend the better part of most days silently determining when to let him sleep and when it’s time to wake up and do work.  Some days this job is more rewarding than others.   Not only did Zach get a nap this day, he also got a 100.