State of Obvious

I watched from the corner of my eye as my daughter leaned forward toward the screen.  The screen was Black Panther , the newest Marvel superhero movie.  We like superhero movies, generally speaking, and have been looking forward to this particular movie.  It did not disappoint. But, even more important than that, I watched my daughter watching the movie and felt full.  Full of love for her, full of appreciation for a movie that honors her heritage, full of admiration for how well she has accepted herself - even though others have not always.  The beautiful costumes and hair, the STRONG and intelligent females, the ease of the language and unspoken respect for each other - all of these sub-messages in a superhero movie were not lost on me.  And, as she leaned closer and closer to the screen, engrossed, I knew they were not lost on my girl, either. --- For the first time since joining my profession, I legitimately do not feel safe.  Friday we spent...

Dear Josh,   I missed your sixteenth birthday.  I'm sure you recall - or maybe it wasn't so bad because you spent the whole day with your friend watching movies.  Godzilla and Guardians of the Galaxy, you've said.  It's no surprise to me that Godzilla was your favorite of the two.  That atomic green monster holds a special place in your heart. It was very difficult for me to be away from you when you crossed this threshold in your life.  I remember turning sixteen, being sixteen, and wondering when I would feel like I was actually sixteen.  When I was sixteen, I went and found my first job, I started driving myself around, and I pretty much felt like I was in the wrong skin.  I'm only now, at 37, beginning to feel in the right skin.  Or at least comfortable with the skin I'm in.  But you - well, you don't seem to have a problem being you.  I can't explain how very happy that makes me feel, how very reassured.  Because it ...

 I can't remember what it is like to turn nine years old.  From watching you turn nine, it must have been difficult because it seems like everything is either really, really greator really, really bad.  Some days I think I might get whiplash from the mood swings (and you're not a teenager yet!).   But overall, I think nine must also be really wonderful.  You seem to be full of joy, even moments after being full of woe.  It's as if the joy just pushes the other stuff out.  It practically oozes from your pores.  More than that, on the days you choose to be happy, the whole world sings with you.  People are infected by it, drawn in to your sweet smile and shining eyes.  Attracted like bugs to a light.  You shine, dear little diva, so brightly sometimes it's blinding. We just spent three weeks together in California, and I must have complained too much about your behavior because your dad believes we are oil and water right now. ...

This summer, instead of blogging (which, let's be honest, I haven't been doing much when it's not summer.  But, I digress), I have been: - Job hunting (found one!) - Having repeated teacher nightmares (one last night!) - Looking for free resources to use in my classroom (need more!) - Watching too much TV (an accomplishment given that we only have about five channels!) - Building an addiction to Longmire (hooray for Amazon Prime and Netflix!) - Not cleaning the house much (who cares!) - Visiting California (first world problems!) - Scrapbook shop hopping with my sister (charms ahoy!) - Wondering where Carly's next mood swing will take me (and she's not even a teenager!) - Freaking out about how tall Josh suddenly seems to be (holy cow!) - Questioning so many of my life decisions that they've all started to swim together into one (yikes!) - Reading too much BuzzFeed (see above!) - Eating an unusually large quantity of cinnamon gummy bears (I blame m...

People move through our lives in often very small and simple ways.  Sometimes we meet for a moment, an hour, a week, a year, a decade.  We make friends, lose friends, remain friends though distance pulls us apart.  We affect others.  That means act upon, cause, change.  The effect is what comes after.  It's the ripples and waves that follow the storm.  Or the warmth that follows the sun rising.  The chill that follows its setting. Here I am at the end of another semester.  Closing things up, putting things aside that never got done.  This time, I have an unsettled feeling, everything in limbo.  I'm not sure what's next and it's very hard to sit back and wait for the future to come.  Every hour, every moment rolling closer like a train on it's track during a midnight ride.  I cannot see the horizon, only these tracks right in front of me as I push on forward. And it's scary. I'm supposed to wait upon the Lord.  I'm ...

The house is still, though it never seems to be exactly silent.  Always there is a buzz, a sigh, a whirl.  Fans spinning or washing machines, dogs snoring or people turning over.  In the night, we are at our most vulnerable.  And yet, we trust. In my heart there is a persistence of hope during these silent hours.  It changes from day to day, that thing I hope for.  Some days it is a small hope for better weather or maybe some rain.  Other days, it is a heavy burden holding me down and I just want it to float away.  I turn this way and that, searching searching, I'm not sure what for.  I keep wondering when I'll find it , that thing that makes the pieces come together in the right order.  I often think that, perhaps, that thing is already here and I've just gotten really good at ignoring it.  Whatever IT is. In these silent hours, mind spinning and thoughts a blur, I let my body slow down into that pattern of just before sleep. ...

Dear me, I'd like to say a few words about what this day means.  This day of birth wherein I (you?) entered the world some thirty seven years ago, asleep.  Yes, asleep.  And still trying to catch up where I left off when so rudely interrupted by a smack on the behind. I'd like to say there is some magic formula or perfect sentence that sums up what it means to advance another year older and wiser, but if anything I've learned that most days (including birthdays) go on basically like the ones before.  Sure, there are the frilly types of days mixed in: celebrations, births, surprises, and the like.  But, really it all mixes together into memory-soup and it's hard to separate the strands. The year of thirty-six was spent largely learning to become a teacher.  Interestingly enough, I learned that I already pretty much am one (a teacher) and that there is a lot more fuss and bother than actual teaching on some days.  (Freshman - need I say more? (Okay...

The vast blue sky And golden rays Turtle dove songs outside my window The smell of freshly washed hair My daughter's soft skin Brown eyes A roof that hasn't leaked A painted picture of the sea The taste of beans and chile Clanging heater vents, alive with warm air Rosy, heart-shaped lips Chocolate The ocean pulsing on the sand White snow laid freshly down Skeleton arms of trees Dogs barking over the cat's meow A quilt made of favorite shirts And dreams.

For George I see him in the trees Tall and strong, gangly limbs that try to touch the sky “Be strong,” they say “Stand tall,” they tell me “Reach.” I see him in the river Always moving, changing fast, full of stories “Keep going,” it rumbles “Cut new paths,” it beckons “Search.” I see him in the birds The cunning hawk, the splendid eagle, the curious sparrow “Fly farther,” they call “Hunt far and wide,” they sing “Soar.” I see him in adobe In the gentle carvings of a rough, strong hand In quiet rooms of light In many windows facing east To sunrise.

...has been a hard one for me.  For a lot of reasons, some of which I'll list (school, teaching, school, busy-ness, school...) and some of which I won't (........).  I'm tired.  To a degree that I have not experienced before.  They told me going in (to the first semester of a Master's Degree and Teacher Certification combined) that this one would be the hardest.  And it has been.  Not because of the classes - those haven't been that bad, actually.  But because of the amount of running around, planning, revising, running around some more, and missing my family that comes with those classes.  I just keep telling myself to hang in there, it's almost done, only a little longer, and so on.  And here I am at the end, still mostly in once piece. ...has been a season of grief.  Everywhere I look, I see people and things that I've lost.  Eric's mom, Ann, seems to be whispering in my ear.  I even dream about her on a regular basis. ...

There is this moment when the thing we fear becomes like an animal in a cage.  We feed it, give it treats, reach into to steal a stroke, tease it, name it, watch it pace in front of the bars.  We get comfortable with it and begin to lose the tightness in our belly.  We begin to believe our feelings were not justified, that we were just being silly.  We begin to make friends with that animal in the cage and we decide to let it out, to see if it has suddenly become civilized.  Inevitably, it has not and then comes the bloody, broken mess on the floor that we have to clean up even as we know we created the mess and we don't want to see that thing we've let loose.  And we have to put it back in the cage, the struggle ensues, and we are irrevocably scarred by the experience only to begin the process again. Lately I seem to be reading, talking, thinking, talking, watching, talking about inclusion and diversity.  As if one of those things is somehow more va...

Call it a product of lots of work and little time, or maybe classes which all seem to share threads despite being almost wholly unrelated, but lately I've been thinking a lot about how powerless I am in my own skin. I talk too much. Or maybe it's powerful .  I am powerful in my own skin .  I can do things, be things, try things.  I don't have to do it for anyone but me.  I don't have to do it unless I want to.  I can look at the map and choose the road and see where it goes.  And be okay even if I get turned around. I am a bonafied know-it-all. It's funny.  I haven't noticed myself getting older.  It just sort of happened.  Snuck up while I was napping.  Little spots on the back of my hands, wrinkles around my mouth, gray hair.  I've settled into my thirties, somehow, just in time to get ready to leave them.  Mid-way, mid-life, mid-me.  I'm not excited about forty in four years, but it's coming anyhow.  C...

Once, when Josh was still very small, my mother-in-law turned to me and said: "You know, it's like he's always been here." And right there, in those eight words, she perfectly captured my faith in God. There are days, like today, when I look at my child and I can almost see eternity stretching backward like a long unfurling satin wing.  We've been on this path together for a while now, though we've forgotten the greater part.  But it was only just tonight, while I had my hands in a bubbly sink full of dishes, that I came to understand the significance of that. I often think to myself: I am failing my child . or I am a terrible mother . or I can't believe I just did that, again! or What is wrong with me? These kids are making me crazy and they're not even doing anything wrong! or I should not be his/her mother.   or It's no wonder we don't have any more kids.  I don't deserve them. or Well, you get the idea...

on days like this we try to explain things the truth is there are no explanations some things are just senseless we look at the shattered pieces dazzling shards and try to arrange them into what-might-have-beens none of the arrangements are satisfying so we begin again slicing open our hands on the sharp edges we say somewhere buried in the ashes there must be meaning there must be lessons but perhaps that is the lesson: that there isn't one that every day is a random gift to unwrap or throw away

The answer to every question, every hope, every fear.  All wrapped up in two very different children.  And a spotted dog's backside.

Forget not that the Lord loves you I dream about things sometimes, you know?  Build big castles in the air, floating on clouds, sailing through the blue.  I wonder, what would I do?  With a million dollars - a thousand dollars sometimes.  If I was famous.  If I finally did write that book.  Happy, good, childish dreams.  Nightmares, too, but we won't talk about those. Have you ever sat and listened, just listened, to the in-out-in of breathing?  To the delicate way air flows in and sighs back out?  Have you ever felt the heaving in-out-in of a child's chest as they slept?  Right next to your thrumming heart, their warmth making you sweat.  Have you traced the gentle curve of their chubby cheek, moving so softly they twitch from the finger's kiss?  You should try it. I often get distracted.  Building those castles can be very time consuming, filling me up.  Eventually, I realize those fluffy dreams are not...

Tonight I am acutely aware of the tender mercies of the Lord. In my life I have an amazing capacity for getting distracted.  Distracted by jobs I need to do, errands to run, money, grades to improve - both mine and not mine, people to talk to even though I really rather wouldn't ever make eye contact with anyone except my computer, emails to read and delete, money, food to prepare, sleep to lose, money.  Did I mention money? Tonight we watched a short video about the Widow's Mite .  First, let me just mention that I never realized what a clever play on words that is.  Second, after the video we talked about what God requires vs. what we can provide.  And we came to realize those are the same things, and not just in terms of money.  He asks only for all that we have to give and no more.  Sometimes that seems like a real lot.  Especially when it comes to money.  No, He doesn't want all my money.  Or yours.  He asks me for 10%....

I took a stroll down memory lane tonight, sampling the bitter and sweet that is all tied up in pictures.  Along the way I stumbled across what might be one of the last pictures of Carly with her Grandma Annie.  It made me sad and happy all at once, like eating the last chocolate in a box. I also found some silly moments I had forgotten and wondered how I let that happen.  I always think I will remember each golden moment forever, but it slips away.  And I scolded myself for being such a poor steward of time. I have watched my children grow into these little (and not so little anymore) people, but I have been so close to the phenomenon that I almost didn't see it happen.  Like magic, suddenly they are new creatures, wholly formed and beautiful in a new way. I sometimes wonder what my story is, when it will happen.  That dramatic, defining moment that you either get through, or fall through, or check out of.  Maybe it's already happened....

In the fading hours of the day, the house grows still.  Almost sleeping, except that the lights are still on and probably the TV.  There's the hum and whistle of the hot water heater, and the cracking sound of settling foundations.  There's a fan in the boy's room.  And a heater whirring.  There's the dog, chewing on the chewy.  And the computer, keys tapping, fan spinning.  And me. The silence of the late-night hours are a haven.  A time to sit and think.  Or sit and not think, as the case may be.  Not a lot of "mommy can you" going on, blessed reprieve.  Not much eye rolling or sigh making or feet stomping.  I'd be lying if I tried to tell you these aren't part of a daily routine.  They are.  Life isn't perfect, it doesn't sound perfect or look perfect.  Sometimes, for fleeting moments, it feels perfect.  The stars align and the heavens smile and the world sings.  But, I must emphasize the fleetin...

"Forget not the difference between a good sacrifice and a foolish sacrifice." I'll admit that I don't sail through life thinking, “Am I committing my time and energies to the things that matter most?”  It's more like "If the kids eat dinner right now, it's only two more hours 'til bed.  And we haven't done homework yet.  Oh, look at their rooms.  Oh, look at the laundry.  Oh, I forgot to ___________!"  The whirling dervish of life is my most constant companion.  It leaves me tired, frustrated, and lonely.  It's so much easier to focus on the essential non-essentials.  I don't think this is very different from most people I know.  It's extremely easy to get caught up in life, all the while forgetting to really live.  Forgetting to stop, to smile, to laugh, to dance.  Forgetting to put down the camera and watch the moments.  Forgetting to stop reading books, to read faces instead.  Forgetting to stop connecting online...