Love Is ____________________?

Is love tangible?
Is it the brush of a hand on yours?
Or perhaps a whisper in the dark.
Maybe it's a mother's smile.
A father's approval.
Or a brother's hug.
Maybe it's a friends tears.
Or a sister's home cooking.
A child's hand sliding into yours.
Is it something you can touch?
And feel
And embrace?
Perhaps love is spirit.
Not so much something you can touch.
But it IS something you know.
A fact.
Yet, it's nothing anyone can touch.
It's like the connection that
Occurs when you look into someone else's eyes.
Eye contact is an acknowledgment of the soul.
You exist. You hurt. You bleed.
By looking into my eyes
You tell me you see me.
Love is not sex.
Though sex is a part of it.
Love runs deeper than an orgasm
Or kiss.
It's a river that runs through one person
And overflows to another.
Spirit.
It's perhaps the purest motivator of human action.
We all seek it out in one form or another.
From one person or another.
It's not hearts and happiness.
It's not butterflies and rainbows.
Love runs deeper than
Momentary flutters
Initial head over heels flight.
Though.
Those are a part of it.
It ties us together
And it rips us apart.
Love opens our hearts and
Breaks them
In the same breath.
Our souls were made to love.
Yet.
We still can't touch love.
We can't grasp the depth of
Love.
It is a comfort.
That I can't find the boundaries.
The limits of love.
That with love
You can
Hope
Dream
Believe
Grow
Live
And be comforted.

It's not so much being held as holding someone else.
It's not so much being safe as saving someone else.
It's not so much being treasured as treasuring.

I try and grasp the wings of the bird called
Love
Try and trap it and ask it questions
Understand it.
But I always end up throwing it back
Up into the air.
And

Let my own spirit overflow.

Snowed In

Well if you haven't heard about the snow in the Midwest yet, now you have!

Winter storms overtook us this week as the sky dumped a lot of snow on us. Schools were closed, the mall was closed, and cars were stuck.

In any case, this season I am happy to be in town for the Christmas time. There's something about Christmas songs and Christmas feelings and Christmas miracles that make me feel peace and awe.

It's even more relevant when there's snow on the ground and the air is sharp and cold. Scarves and hats and gloves and boots and snow forts abound. I missed all of those things last year. The feeling that winter was ushering in Christmas. Perhaps I should just admit to myself that I will always love the Midwest. The fields and the land and the sky and the snow. Looking out across it all and feeling a sense of belonging. Even though I grew up in the city, I find myself more and more enchanted with the opposite. Where I work is surrounded by fields and I can look out of the window in the morning, as I'm preparing for the children, and watch the sunrise across the flat fields. It may not sound very interesting, but to me it's beautiful.

My heart is content this Christmas season. I feel that footing I lost last year has been slowly regained inch by inch and in my life and my relationship that has been a good thing. It's funny to think about a year ago now, how unsettled, worried, anxious, and overwhelmed I felt. My future, my goals, my relationship, my plans, all seemed uncertain. It's been so nice to be a bit settled in a job I enjoy with kids that bring me smiles everyday. It's also been great to set new goals for myself and to really take steps to work toward career goals I didn't know I really had.

All in all, it's been a difficult year, but not one I regret.

I think I have a lot of hope. A lot of smiles. A lot of joy. Left in me to live out. I hope you do too.

Defining Moments er Thoughts

So Sunday I was driving along, thinking and contemplating, when a thought came to me.

I don't know if anyone else understands or relates to this, but this thought was kind of a defining moment...or thought..if you will. I say this because it is a thought that changed my attitude and my lack of action. Note: Not my lack of CARE but my lack of ACTION.

See. Sometimes I am a loner, a hermit, a fly under the radar kind of person when trouble or weird or hard things come my way. And sometimes, like a deck chair, I fall over in the midst of the wind of anything I don't know right away how to deal with or solve. After falling, I find a good place to burrow and dig deep. Stop.

Lately my position has been burrowed down. With just my eyes poking out to see if it's safe yet.

OK so this would all be well and good, because in all ways I am safe.

BUT I'm also missing out on everything. Absolutely everything that I know I want or need in my life. I miss out on relationships, honest conversations, honest self-prying, and love. Because it's hard to accept love when you are trying to remain....well...safe. Hidden. A hermit.

NOW. I know myself well enough to know, I've done this before. I know this feeling. And yet, I refuse to feel I should have reached this thought, this point sooner. For, I think, often times these types of life defining thoughts come at the moment we are ready to accept them. (Believe me others have told me life defining thoughts they knew would be good for me....but it doesn't mean anything until..well more on that later).

It's time to grow up. It's time to get out of the burrow. It's time to face love. It's time to risk everything. It's time to grow up.

All of a sudden. Those winds which knocked me over seem like mere gentle summer breezes. Breezes that I can move through and within. Suddenly, my attitude is I CAN DO THIS. and I WILL DO THIS. not I just don't know how to do this. Suddenly I let myself own this thought instead of merely hearing it.

I CAN.

Because it's time to grow up.

Thank goodness.

For life defining moments......uh...

thoughts.

The Yuck Factor

I am utterly convinced the room I work in is a

Vomit-Producing-Machine.

Germ-Invested-Work-Environment.

Because-Everyone-Is-Getting-Sick.

It's amazing how you can use all these anti-bacterial things and bleach solutions and sanitizer, and the next day another person who either works there, or is dropped off there, is vomiting.

HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN?

I know the spreading of the flu virus is expected. I mean, I'm in a room where fingers tend to wander toward the nose and mouth. Yet, there is a dim, hopeful part of me thinking that maybe, at least one of us will escape. ( I haven't).

In any case. That's been my feeling. Like you could show me in a special camerea that would reveal all the bacteria I'm carrying around and my whole body would light up like a Christmas tree! OK

So maybe I'm paranoid. I wash my hands constantly. I shower. You know. I'm clean. But as another kid goes down with it, and I myself am exposed AGAIN to it, it's hard to believe there aren't at least some microscopic germy thingys on me.

Long Sigh. OK. That's it.

DON'T TOUCH ANYONE!

You may get sick! ha. Good luck this cold and flu season!

Compilation

This week I held my friend's week-old baby girl.

She was very very small!

And then watched a sad movie about grief and death and suicide.

Which made me cry quite a bit.

Sometimes when I get like that, all teary, I feel I've gone back to that college sophomore. That way awkward girl who didn't really want to talk about anything she was going through but felt the gloom and burden of grief and loss daily. (OK, so I'm still pretty awkward). But I don't usually feel doom and gloom.

I suppose more than anything it's simply frustrating. How can a young woman possibly explain that a mother's death still touches the depths of her heart four years later? And how can I possibly explain that it will always touch the depths of my heart? Sometimes I have to remember there is no one to explain anything too.

In any case. These happen to be just random thoughts today. No passionate political happenings are on my mind and no injustices have stirred my attention. Perhaps it's more of a reflection.

As my hopes grow out of tender time and words and lengthy happenings. I am very aware some days that I have chosen my own rough road. A road of twists and turns that I am partially to blame for. It seems reflection is called for before continuing and taking steps. Perhaps there comes a moment in life when one realizes that certain aspects of who you are will always hold stock in how you handle situations, events, and other people. And perhaps this process frees you to become the best parts of you and to try to overcome the worst. Perhaps it takes diving deep into the worst parts of yourself to see a way to overcome your own self.

Yet who knows. For all these words, perhaps they remain unneeded. And ourselves are only left to choose to love or to run. All pieces of ourselves aside. And maybe those pieces are what will fall in place when we finally make that choice.

That's what I'm hoping. Like a puzzle, for all the pieces of myself to be at rest and to fall into place as more and more of my heart decides the shape and frame of the puzzle. The beauty is, that despite our mistakes and consistent errors, we still get the opportunity to shape our lives, our puzzles. Into something we never dared to hope for. Perhaps that's what's important.

Hope.

Public Option

Do you know what these buzzwords refer to?

If you don't, let me inform you...

This phrase refers to the consideration of a public option in the health care bill. What does that even mean?

I myself have been digging around to find some answers to this question as I don't completely understand it myself.

Generally the words "public option" have been used by political sides who are both for health care reform. One group, mostly democrats, want to make a "taxpayer-based medical insurance plan" an option for everyone (Greenman). In essence, this plan would compete with private insurance companies for business. Check out this article:

(http://www.nydailynews.com/opinions/2009/06/19/2009-06-19_whos_afraid_of_a_public_option_health_care_debate_is_stuck_on_a_strawman.html)

Pitting government health care insurance against private insurance companies? What do you think?

According to my own understanding, private insurance has only gotten MORE expensive and tends to continually cover less and less. Perhaps they could use a little competition from the government?

Here's another entertaining reference to the public option:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GMuZWSvlIMY

I suppose I wouldn't make so much to-do about these things if I didn't know how widespread their effect can be. So I'm choosing to fight in small ways and hope that others are inspired to do the same.

NewsWorthy

I recently watched the new documentary by a certain Mr. Moore entitled "Capitalism".

There were many interesting facts and points in this movie, however, what I mainly gained from it was that for a while I have not had any clear ideas about what is really going on in our government and country.

For example, did you know that recently some "rogue" democrats attempted to commit voter fraud by falsely filling out absentee ballots for residents who never actually filled out any such ballot? (Fox News)

Or that President Obama attempted to essentially boycott Fox news from interviews with key people because of their viewpoints on certain issues? Lucky for Fox all the other news networks stood up for Fox essentially because they all felt that no matter Fox's viewpoints, the President had still crossed a line. (http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2009/10/23/eveningnews/main5415921.shtml?tag=stack)

Another plant is closing down in Iowa, in Webster City. Over 800 jobs are going to Mexico where workers are paid $2.50 an hour. Because of the unions, workers in Webster City were paid over $16.00 an hour. (http://www.desmoinesregister.com/article/20091024/NEWS/91024005/1001/)

Perhaps Mexicans would be better off going back to Mexico. At least they would have a job, only if it does only pay $2.50 an hour.

And you know the irony in all this, the workers in Webster City weren't even outraged or surprised, they knew it was coming. Although the news is disappointing, no one even thinks to bat an eye.

I recently watched another documentary on HBO about the clothing and fashion industry and with shows like "America's Next Top Model" and "Project Runway" one would gather the impression that the glimmer of fashion is lucrative and well off. Not so much. The documentary "Schmatta: Rags to Riches to Rags" documents the growth of the garment production in New York and the eventual failure of the factories as everything was outsourced. Now, about %5 of all clothes bought in the US are made in the United States. No big deal, though, right? ( http://www.hbo.com/docs/programs/schmatta/synopsis.html )

Does anyone ever stop to think about the fact that America is setting itself up for failure? We have imposed many sanctions in the past on other countries whose policies or actions we didn't agree with. We had the power to do so because of our production. But what would happen if suddenly these countries producing all of our goods suddenly decided to impose sanctions on us? Who would remember how to make cars, clothes, toys, machinary?

In Miami many condos and homes are sitting empty as a result of foreclosers. You would think someone would be around to buy up the properties. Not so much. Instead these homes sit empty and people are starting to take back what the banks have taken from them. By squatting, by protesting, by remaining in their own homes despite the foreclosures and evictions. And how are local authorities reacting to people who enter and live in borded up homes? They aren't. ( http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=view_all&address=385x264995 )

There is a rally in Chicago I wish I could go to on Tuesday. Although I cannot attend, I will be following the events closely. Check out what's going on at http://www.showdowninchicago.org/

Whatever your viewpoints, it's important to at least try and sort through what's going on and take a stand for something. Because we, the American people, are the ones who are losing out. We are losing our jobs, our homes, and our sense of independence. Your job may be next. As may your home.

Take a stand.

For something anyways.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

Babies.

As of this month I will have gone to three baby showers. Awe. One for my good friend. One for a coworker and one for a cousin. I went to target and got little booties and other gift registered baby things.

The irony of this all is that at my job early in the mornings I work with infants every day. And it turns out they are not so scary as I once thought. Granted, my current expertise are two-three year olds, but I do love the babies too. I have never thought so much about pregnancy, babies, and motherhood!

Although I know I'm def. NOT READY for the HUGE responsibility that comes with birthing and raising a child, it's def. something I'm able to picture more easily. Minus the birthing. Of course.

I am happy and excited for these new moms and I'm so very excited to babysit for my friend Sarah when her little one happens along. To hold brand new life in my hands reminds me not only of where I come from, but also of how fast it all goes. Even my two and threes grow bigger and change every single day.

Even I am getting older too.

Someday I'll have white hair and be all wrinkly and unable to do much for myself. We all return to where we started. My hope is that I will look back on my youth with humor and kindness toward myself and be able to see that somehow my mistakes were made into miracles. And that in turn, I can tell my grandchildren about the young me and all things past. And they will shake their heads and go "whatever grandma".

Circles

Sometimes my thoughts chase in circles and I wonder
And wonder if everything is actually going to work out.
Because some part of me still doesn't know.
I think a lot about things.
About how things change
And how some things don't.
About old friends and how
They have changed
And haven't.
I don't know if the
Changes will mean good
Or bad things for any of them.
Yet it seems we've all lost our idealism somewhere
Between the here and there.
Youth passes us by in a flurry and
Even I don't feel young anymore.
Though some would call me so.
I look on with weariness at the paths
I've chosen and haven't chosen.
It is a hard thing sometimes
To try to look back and
Forward at the
Same time.
There's this part in the Bible
Where the main theme is
Everything is meaningless.
I feel overwhelmed.
Overwhelmed with the kids in my
Room
Who at two or three
Have more tragedy and hardship
Than I.
And they have no control or
WORDS to put to it.
Their sorrow and pain
Comes out in cries and screams.
In opposition to anyone
Who might care for them.
They've already learned to
Not trust.
Not speak.
Not hope.
I feel overwhelmed.
Because they are so little
And I can do so little.
My heart wants to
Protect them.
To shelter them.
And tell them
They will be OK.
But I don't know that.
I can't say that.
And as far as I can tell,
It won't be OK.
How can we just say
It's sad.
Why doesn't their suffering
Touch a corner
A mere corner of our hearts.
Although whose to say it doesn't.
They are just all depending on me it seems.
All those little ones.
Every day.
And every day I try the best I can
To love them and teach them.
Is that enough?
Is it ever enough?
I go to bed searching for answers
Searching for ideas.
Searching for explanations and
Getting up the next morning and worrying
About them all over again.
I know they aren't my burden to carry.
Yet when they look to me for everything,
I don't feel I'm enough.
So my thoughts go in circles.
As I realize yet again,
I can't save them.
I can only love them for the time
I see them.

Cargo Pants and Tears/Are there enough words?

I have this friend who always used to wear these cargo pants with all these pockets. She wore them so much that it became part of what I associated her with. Pockets, baggy, cool, cargo pants. Her up-to-date phone would always be stored neatly away in one of the pockets and her wallet always in easy reach in a back pocket.

Don't ask me why I remember these particular things. I could say something about someone else who matches and is always cute looking. Another friend wears long skirts and shirts. Loves head scarves and comfy but interesting shoes. These are things I remember. I store away.

In any case. I have never owned a pair of cargo pants and have lately become interested in fashion. Mostly because I discovered I have a love of skirts. This discovery has led me to think that perhaps I like other things that would be considered "cute". or "fashionable". So once in a while, I find a shirt in a store considered fashionable that is my style. In such a store I discovered cargo pants on sale. Automatically I thought, cool! I picked out a color and tried them on and transformed myself into a cargo-wearing lady. They are just the right amount of baggy and tight. Just look good enough to make me feel "cool". But part of me thinks that the reason I really wanted them was perhaps as a tribute to my friend who lives in another state and who I think of often. I was never the cool girl, never really the one that got invited, and never really felt sad about that. But. When my mom died, this friend invited. And that to me. Is enough.

Tears came flowing down today because I watched a video about some parents whose son had gotten killed in a head-on crash. As I watched their raw emotion, my own tears came unflowing and I wept. My grief flowed over me and there was nothing to hold back. I cried. I can't believe it's been four years. Can anyone ever know how that is? To just cry. I've been holding back those tears since the date. Perhaps thinking, it's been this long, maybe I'm OK. But my heart still feels torn to pieces sometimes when I think about it. When I think about my family. My sobs and cries seem to go on through the years as a young girl's heart turning into a woman's mourns her mother's absence.

So I put on the old music. The music I listened to over and over and over again whenever I would feel sad about my mom. Music by Matt Kearney, a song by Superchick. Songs that brought about tears and songs that I could turn up loud and maybe drown out the overwhelming grief. To listen to them again is a reminder. A reminder of her. And a reminder of the impact she had on my life. A reminder to grieve when my spirit needs it. I have pain. I carry scars. And sometimes I feel so lost and sad. Without her. But I am still OK. My smile and my passion for the kids carry me through. Having someone whose been willing to walk a very difficult road relationally with me and loved me through it all reminds me to remember mom in a humble and move-forward kind of way. Nothing will ever change the pain of my mother's death. And

I still miss her.

How I wish she hadn't missed out on these last four years. How deeply I wish she could have seen me grow. I wish I could call her up and ask her about life. Though these are wishes, don't get down on me for wishing. These thoughts are fleeting and tomorrow is a new day.

Four

My mother died 4 years ago today.
I can't believe it has been that long.

It's funny how life continues to push you forward.

In any case,

I miss the person that was so proud of me.
I miss the person I felt I could relate to the most in my family.

I remember the last time I talked with her.

I remember the worry head-aches I constantly had my sophomore year at college because I didn't know when the cancer would win.

I remember the daily phone calls from my dad updating me on the status of things.
I remember getting called on a Thursday with the news that she was in the ICU and could die anytime.

3 seems to be the magic number. It's the number of weeks we knew about the cancer before she died.

It was a crazy, mixed-up time.

My friends put up with my moody grief. With my daily depression. With my lack of care about anything. Despite the fact that I hated life at the time, they still invited me. Constantly invited me.

And as I dug my way through a myriad of emotions, they sought to sit with me, hug me, talk to me. When otherwise I would have been alone.

One of my good friends even wrote a song for me.

"Set me high upon this rock"

OK so it was about Hurricane Katrina as well, but you know, I inspired some of it.

I am at such a different place in my life. No longer in college. Full-time job with the cutest kids I know. In a relationship.

It's strange to think my mom has now missed four years of my life.

I know she wanted to be there for me.

I know she would so be here if it was possible. I know she'd say she was proud and tell me she loves me when I call her and send me postcards.

Sigh.

I'll never have anyone like that in my life again. No one could ever do her job or play her role in my life. That empty spot still sometimes feels like a gaping hole.

There will always be a piece of me that misses her.

Today I honor her by remember those pieces of her that are pieces of me.

voice in the desert. Hope.

You once called him
"The voice of one calling out in the desert"
Where are You?
I feel and see a weariness in my spirit.
I want to save the world and be
That voice.
I see my friends going places unsafe
Tears run down for them
As I fear for them every night.
I know I'm not their Savior
But then again,
Who is?
I'm trying so hard to find You again.
In the midst of this desert and these questions.
To lose faith
Is to lose Hope.
I can't save everyone.
I can't convince anyone.
Yet my spirit and my soul grieves for them.
I want to let this be that and
Be content to let them
Live as they choose.
I pray daily
And yet they would turn
Their backs on those prayers.
For reasons I can't grasp.
Is it so easy?
To run from You?
I am mocked for my faith.
In the background and
Then again on endless pages.
Indirectly.
I am seen as a bigot.
A hypocrite.
Two-faced.
By pointing to Christ,
I am seen as the enemy.
I haven't seen anyone else volunteer to
Hang on a cross lately.
It might be,
Nothing against Christians...
Or.
As long as you don't state your views...
We're OK with you.
Perhaps I am simply perusing the other side of things
For the first time in my life.
And after repeated travels into that side,
I am dying for a taste of authenticity again.
For a small taste of the honey of hope on my lips.
A bit of living for something true and deep and rich.
A belief in a love
That transcends understanding.
Of words that jump off of a page
And cut to the heart.
Living for something more.
You may have your hopelessness.
Your reckless living.
I do not walk away because I am better than you.
I walk away because I admit
I need something to hope in besides myself.

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." Romans 15:13

Career Days

In the midst of loving my job, I have taken so far successful steps to update my teaching license to include the little ones.

23 seems to be the magic number. 23 hours. A bit over a semester's worth of classes.

Although I couldn't have imagined wanting to go back to school after student teaching, I can't wait to go back to school for better ideas and more ideas for working with the wee ones.

Their smiles and eagerness to learn have won over my heart and I doubt I'll really desire to go back into anything higher than second grade.

I love my job. I love the people I work with and the parents of the kids are, for the most part, very understanding. It's fun to be considering making this love of mine into a long-term reality.

These kids are so worth it to me. I love when they run into my arms just to say "hi" or when they say "hug!" just to get a little extra love. I love hearing them talk and learn to communicate and watching their little smiles when they come over with a big smile and say, "I shared!". That's a big thing for a two-year old!

Even on a beaten-down Friday, their smiles and laughter bring me happy feelings!

Journey pish posh. where's the Destination.

Do you ever breath a big sigh of relief once a long journey has concluded?

I mean, I know people say that the joy and life is in the journey and not the destination. But, seriously, who really believes that? Especially when the journey is painful?

I've been on a long journey of thoughts considering love and relationships and finally the pieces are beginning to come together. It's a very hard journey to describe as it happened mostly in my head.

Although the journey has been painful, we both have become better people because of it. As the steps in the journey continue, I feel the ending of this particular journey drawing near and the sighs of relief i'm breathing are so relaxing.

I know this journey is not over and I still have more steps to take, but it really helps having a sure direction. A goal to walk toward. Hand in hand.

In any case. So much for the journey!

The steps I'm taking will take me to the destination. It's always easier to do life when you have your goals in mind ( :

Jaded

When I was younger, only five years ago, I saw only goodness in the world.

In people. In situations. In general.

Some people can go through so much and stay so positive. They're great at taking the things that come into their life with grace and nonchalance. They are honest about the world, but still insist on believing good. That it exists.

Then there are others who go through so much and retreat inside themselves. They learn to suspect everyone and become fearful of all possible outcomes.

Today I feel like the second person described. It seems wired into me that no matter what, I am going to have to do things on my own. And so sometimes I retreat inside myself, looking for the strength to get me through another day.

I can point to a lot of the sources of the fear. It's held me back from what I know I want. Because the fear that others spoke erased my belief in goodness and made me instead suspicious.

It's good to be aware of all sides of someone or a situation. But if you only suspect bad things, you will only see bad things.

Seeing this change in myself brings sadness. The fact that I can't look at anything or anyone without suspecting the worst of them. I never used to do that. I used to love different people and passions. And art. I used to trust the people close to me. That they would be there and support me no matter what I chose.

The impact fear has had over my life over the last year is shameful. Yet I can't take it back. Not a single piece. I feel like instead of my life being an amazing puzzle that is working out to a sweet picture, it's turning out to be a somehow dark, fuzzy, confusing blob of confusion.

Jaded.

Life is complicated.

This morning I was eating at the local waffle place and sitting next to this older guy at the counter. During the course of me being there, this man paid for the elderly woman's meal at another table. She was just eating by herself and he paid for her. One of the wait staff told him, you know you just made her day right? and he said "she made mine".

There is goodness. In me. In the people I meet. And in the people I love. We all have our bad sides and our bad days, but that simple gesture reminded me that I don't have to be fearful, jaded, or suspicious. By being my quirky self, my true self, and especially my honest self, I can make anyone's day.

The Job.

Sigh.

Today was a good, full, happy day.

The day consisted of nine small ones. Books about music, including "The Seals On the Bus". CDs full of music from Asia and Africa.

A little bit of a dribble in piano playing so my children could hear what a piano sounds like. We made it a game by starting out with the lowest key and as I moved up the piano toward the highest sounds I would say, "should I go even higher?!" "Yes!" We talked about how hard you must practice to become skilled at an instrument. I am planning on taking my guitar in tomorrow and perhaps a trumpet on Thursday. They all got a chance to play a few notes on the piano. Cute.

At lunch we are just starting family style meals. The kids are learning to serve themselves and pass the bowl on. They did pretty well with the exception of one small child grabbing a sliced pear out of the bowl and eating it with her fingers. ( :

Now I'm listening to a CD full of kiddie songs that my director loaned me. Ha.

As of now, my kids can say good morning in Spanish, milk, count up to ten, and say good-bye. Pretty good for kids that don't even know all their native language words yet!

Sometimes I wish I had more dramatic stories or interesting happenings. But the fact of the matter is, I love my job and every day seems to be a good day. The kids are cute and love to learn. Their little smiles just bring me so much joy.

This job combines my love for little ones and my desire to be behind the scenes. I get direct communication with all the parents every morning and am responsible for knowing their schedules and special requests. Often the children talk about what they do at school with their parents. I am responsible for the organization and administration of my room.

I love this age in many ways. Hence, Loving my job. I am contemplating seriously adding an early childhood certificate to my degree so that I may remain with this age group.

A Thousand Years

I wonder if everyone reaches a point of weariness.

A point where they see old friends and suddenly feel like they've lived a thousand years since that time. Their viewpoints, their lives, and their hearts have been put through the wringer and they realize that who they were then will never be who they are now. Perhaps it is not so much living a thousand years as much as a loss of innocence.

Some of us lose our innocence very early in life, while others live years and years in blissful ignorance.

Pain, grief, turbulence, and heartache have no favorites and rarely avoid us.

Every new day I start out seeing it as a chasm of endless possibilities and choices. I could go here, there, be with that person, eat this, see them, get offended, watch this show, go home, eat chocolate, eat grapes, not eat....... and everyday I think about the What Ifs of the choices I don't choose.

The last two years of my life have been full of large choices. Some every day little choices don't make that much difference, but it's the big choices that can throw your life off course and send you into a space you didn't know existed and leave you with a loss of innocence. A loss of yourself. A loss of your soul. It's wearisome to think about the big choices I made. If I could edit my book of life, I can name some things I'd change. But I'm already on the next chapter. The best thing to do is to work with where I am now. To make an effort to make the next chapters at least more focused than the last few. I'm finally thinking about my adult life goals.

In any case. When I see old friends in which time has erased knowledge of their hearts and lives and those friendships are composed of no more than old memories, the weight of a thousand lives and all the daily decisions weighs me down. I am growing away from who I was but who am I now?

Perhaps it is only a sadness that comes with that loss of innocence. With that feeling of having lived a thousand years. A simple grief that exists when you come into contact with people you once had so much in common with.

Maybe one day. One day my eternal soul will meet with theirs and all will be revealed and we will be able to look on each other with understanding. The weariness lifted from our hearts and joy in our eyes. I envy the joy they so easily expressed and I once was able to easily express. Sometimes I think I just worry too much.

To old camp friends. Our souls once touched in a beautiful dance and we all were one. I treasure that time for what it was and look back with fondness. My story has gone on without many of you but your faces I won't forget. May our eternal souls meet again and may we all be one.

The Awakening

My very favorite part of my day at work happens a bit before I leave.

We put all the little ones down for a nap in the afternoons. No, this is not my favorite part of the day, although it makes for a good lunch break.

My very favorite part of the day is the awakening. It is when the little ones open their sleepy eyes and are refreshed and lovely. I don't know why, but seeing their little faces after a good nap and saying, awe, did you just wake up? "Yup" Can I have a good morning hug? "yup". After which little arms wrap around me and cute sleepy smiles are had.

There is so much joy in this simple time. I am in SUCH a GREAT mood when I leave because I got to see all their little faces come awake and alive. They are lovely little ones. Their little hugs and smiles bring peace and awe to my spirit. These are the untainted ones. The ones who still have to learn that this world can be a hard and unloving place. They trust others to hold their little hands. They trust nothing will happen to them as they lay on their little cots and sleep. I'm beginning to enjoy their little hugs, how they slide into your lap unnoticed, how they assume you have all the love in the world to give them, how they have all the love in the world to give.

I love the awakening! ( :

"Can I have a hug?"

"Yup"

"We Were Happy Here"

This is a quote out of a book I recently read called The Shadow Catcher by Marianne Wiggins.

The theme focuses on the past. It is about a woman who looks at a picture of her parents when she likes to think their thoughts are "we were happy here". It is a picture of them together having a good time, before her father disappeared.

Sometimes I feel this is my theme. Deeper thoughts seem to be planting their roots in me and my more reflective side has finally been reawakened after a long sleep. Today I am thinking of the concept of home.

To some people my age and even older, they still call their parents' house "home". They feel safe there and they feel a comfy loving feel when they go. I think I stopped calling my childhood home "home" after my mother died. I can't explain the feeling in words ever. The only way to touch on this is to say home cannot feel like home when it feels like one-half of your roots are abruptly lost without too much time or explanation. Reading this book was interesting. My mom lived. Oh she lived. And I have pictures of me, my dad, my mom, and my brother standing and smiling and we all seem to say with our smiles "we are happy". I used to look back on these times with the highest devotion. Treating them as sacred times and memories that couldn't ever be topped.

Grief has no time or place. Taking in stock how even today my life has been affected by the absence of a mother as I morph into the adult world sometimes leaves me feeling really alone. We all desire some sort of guidance from someone who loves us unconditionally and treats us as their child. My grief today is different. I do not feel sorry for myself or think my world is over. I merely am observing the empty spaces she left and working to grow up the best I can.

The little ones have had me exhausted all this week. Sometimes chasing down two year olds is tiring.

Quick story:

I was putting them down for a nap earlier this week and this boy who NEVER has trouble falling asleep spent about an hour tossing and turning on his cot. I had sat by him and patted him and rubbed his back and was beginning to get really frustrated that he just wasn't sleeping yet. UGH.

So finally I asked him, What's wrong?!?! What do you need? He said ONE word

"juice"

Sigh. really? so i went and got him a cup of water and he chugged it down and three minutes later was sleeping.

Simple. So simple. Can you even picture all you have to worry about is a cup of water? When i toss and turn at night, it usually involves life worries, what ifs, and what do I do now? They remind me some days that life does not require too many complications. And that I should be grateful for a bed to sleep in, water to drink, food to eat, and people to hug. Because these are the redeeming qualities in a sometimes upside down world. A hug from a friend, a good meal, and a good night's sleep.

Oh dear little ones. Your sometimes innocence is precious.

(Un)Pregnancy and The Future

In the place I've been working at, I work with three lovely ladies currently experiencing the excitement of carrying a little tiny life inside of them. Sometimes when I am with them, I feel like a little girl who just wants to ask her mommy millions of questions about the growing life. While at the same time, realizing the power I have within my own body and reproductive system to do the same. And I find myself looking down at my belly and marveling at the fact that someday there could be a baby in there. Weird.

I also watched the show 16 & pregnant on MTV yesterday. It was interesting to watch boys just growing into men trying to be men for their pregnant girlfriends. Often, the reality of the responsibility that comes with a child falls on the mother while the father skirts the burdens of the baby. It's weird to watch shows like that and picture who I know I want to be there being there with me, because, before, I couldn't picture that.

Thinking about child-bearing and child-rearing makes me think about my future and what I want. It makes me think about what it means not only to be a woman but also a man. What kind of man does it take to be a good father and husband? I think I know. And I think I know him.

Yet. Intuitively. I still feel a need to grow up just a little bit more first. To stand on my own. To support myself. Intuitively, I know I am still a girl just now learning what it means to be a woman. A woman who will make a good wife and mother. And ALTHOUGH that statement sounds so traditional, intuitively, I see those things being a part of my life.

I am learning and thinking about what it means to be an individual apart from the family of my childhood. I am learning and thinking about what it means to see myself as an adult ALONGSIDE my family instead of UNDER or IN my family. Some of the revelations that come with that are hard and some beautiful. It's like anything, I don't have to be defined by my family's perspective or personal beliefs or viewpoints.

I know I am not financially or relationally ready for a child, but I think these thoughts have forced me to take on a more adult attitude. An attitude of life goals and dreams beyond a career and degree. Getting my degree and graduating was my focus for four and a half years. I guess now it's time for me to grow up. Really grow up. And grow into my own. Into myself.

I can be who I want to be. And each step further into adulthood will encourage my adult identity. I guess what I want to be set free from is

childhood.

Welcome to the world. Welcome to responsibility. Welcome to hard work. We hope you enjoy your stay. Make the most of it. Children may be carefree, but they also are not free. Not free to really decide who they want to be and where they want to go.

I have the power to decide those things. As an adult. It's time I start seeing myself that way.

I know even now that the hardest part about becoming a woman is the lack of my mother. I have been resisting and resisting this transition because she isn't here to be a part of it. Because some days, I don't know who to talk to about what it means to grow up and be a woman. Yet, I can't keep resisting. The longer I see myself as an adolescent, the longer I will be seen as one. So here I go. I will do the best I can.

And an adult I shall be.

Little Ones

I'm getting ready for the little ones again today.

It's officially my second week and I'm still loving the little ones.

Their cute little faces and their honesty get me every time.

It's hard to explain how two and three year olds are. Because they just are.

For the second time in my life (the first time being day camp) I love my job. I go to work every day to eight little smiling faces. Giggles and the ABCs. Nap time and the 123s. I get to pick out all the books, teach all my own lessons (NOT for a GRADE!), pick out art projects for little hands, and love love love.

They are cute and so teachable. So excited about absolutely everything. And I love it.

Second Chances.

I suppose I gave in tonight. I watched as an entire family was placed under the microscope. A family containing eight children and one failed marriage.

Most everyone, unless you live under a rock, probably knows who I'm talking about.

I have many thoughts and feelings about this. Yet, who can even know what was going on in their intimate lives?

It's so easy to look in from the outside and think you know exactly what went wrong or why certain things didn't work out. These two people, this former husband and wife, are that. Two people. Two people who have hurt and frustrated each other. Who decided the best way to move forward was to find an exit strategy. Working through the bitterness, betrayal, and resentment that can foster if unaddressed is difficult. It brings out the best and worst in two people.

I suppose I wish we could have watched them work through those issues instead of watching those things tear them apart. Have Americans really become so bad at real-life communication? How have our examples become families who don't even know how to talk to each other?

In the same breath, I think to myself, who am I. Who am I to pass judgement on these people? I see the pain in each of their eyes and I'm reminded of how much I can relate. Wanting to be a team but feeling disconnected. Wanting to be together but not wanting to lose my independent spirit. Wanting desperately to honestly and openly communicate, but fearing the result. Fearing my vulnerability will lead me into danger.

They have taken a different route. The exit strategy instead of the exit ramp with a viewpoint. Viewpoints which include different perspectives and the grace of second chances. Viewpoints which can take time to take in, but offer all the beauty of any beautiful stop.

I don't know what will happen either. In their lives or mine. I want to be able to say that I gave it all that I had. That we took our second chance and made the absolute most of it. That the second chance, not the first one, is what saved our lives.

A friend use to say, Our God is the God of second chances.

We all need a second chance.

All of us.

In the Land of Twos and Threes: Brief Intro

Naps are the best thing ever.

Dirty shoes constitute a worried scrunched up face and maybe some tears.

Laps are the best resting and reading location.

Smiles and laughter are commonplace.

Songs make everyone wiggle with delight.

Little hands wrap around my fingers.

Books and Words are items of much amazement.

Temper tantrums only last two minutes.

Mr. Potatoe Head can never decide what hat to wear.

It's fun to work with these little ones. To choose books and songs for them to sing. We are working on numbers and ABCs. Colors and Shapes.

Lots of Play. A sprinkle of Learning. And a bit of Love. Finally I can fall in love with a group of kids because I will see them again and again and again. For more than one day. Happy Sigh. It feels nice to have some consistency again.

Can I?

life is funny.

things can change so fast. jobs. friends. locations. popular music. a home can burn down. a house can be built. friendships can be started and relationships can end. you can lose a job. a new job can reenergize. our looks can be covered up or spliced off. we can get nose jobs. boob jobs. piercings. tattoes. we can lose our family. we can lose our hairbrush.

the point is.

life changes. we change. our outsides and our insides. we change our thoughts, views, perspectives, and ideas. We change our passions.

Parts of this are beautiful. The changes that come grow us into better and more mature people.

Parts of this are ugly. Sometimes these things bring out the worst in us despite our best efforts.

It's like we go through times of deep growing pains. Everything seems uncomfortable and hurts and like we just don't quite fit. Seasons of these times come and go. And it hurts. It hurts so much sometimes to have to grow up. To realize more of the world is possibly cruel than good.

My scared little wings are finally getting the courage to stretch out. I don't want to hope that I can possibly fly, because I am so scared of falling. But I feel them stretching out all the same. I can only hide for so long. I miss flying. I miss being myself. And finding joy in simple things. I miss my smile. I miss feeling free.

I am the only one who has the power to clip my wings.

I am looking back at my wings, watching them stretch out on their own accord. Part of me is looking with fear and part of me is saying no to the fear every time they stretch out a little bit more. I don't know exactly what it all means. But it is how I feel.

"Let's waste time
Chasing cars
Around our heads

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me
And just forget the world.

Forget what we're told
Before we get too old." Snow Patrol Lyrics.

I hope as change comes, that it brings out the best in us. I hope finally we can see each other's wings instead of the fear in each other's eyes. It is not too much to hope that maybe, just maybe we can fly together.

Fly with us.

Gifts

Tonight I went and watched another terrible movie with a friend. I will not name the movie unless so asked.

And upon arriving, my friend tells me she has bought something for me b/c she thought of me. Awe. That's kinda nice right?

Full of curiosity (especially since my last gift from a friend happened to be a recorded song) I asked her what it was.

Steak-flavored potatoe chips!!!!!!

Not even kidding. Totally taste like steak! And I. Love. Steak.

Amazingness.

Although, I do have to add that it's weird to eat something that tastes like steak and yet is crunchy instead of chewy gooey meatness. Odd.

Question of the Day Which Has No Good Response:

Can you give yourself fully to someone without losing yourself at the same time?

So far: No firm conclusions. Just a realization that this at least is my fear. I don't want to lose myself. My identity. My personality. I don't want to live my life for another, just with another. Is there a difference? When does wanting to live with another, turn into living for another? Would I lose my passions to gain a great love? Or, does my love simply become an additional passion? Talk about confusing. I wish I had thought about all of these things before. They are important.

Drops in the Bucket

It's funny how some days are so pure
It seems they are sent from heaven.
They are the days you never want to end.
Days where love is exchanged
As well as laughter, stories, and pains.
Sitting by a river and talking.
Dangling feet.
Other days seem like drops in the
Just be over now bucket.
Painful. Hard.
Days when the past seems to rule over you and
You can't get out.
I'm thankful for the days that happened this week.
The pure ones and the discard ones.
It's hard to be reminded of a season and a time.
Questions seem to be a common factor in life.
I am left again with many questions.
Parts of me are still that girl.
The one that gets quiet and stubborn.
The one that wallows when
I could be joyful.
And so many more things.
In retrospect
I think I am realizing
That I really haven't had to
Come to terms with myself lately.
To take a good look inside and admit
The things, both good and bad,
That still lurk there.
Even though it's painful,
It's also healthy
To know those things.
I know that those close to me never have
And won't give up on me.
This is encouragement.
As I sift through the things
That I've left on the shelf for so long.
I must admit that even more than mistakes,
Are things I do intentionally
That are not the best for me
Or those I'm close too.
We all are this way to some extent.
But as the commercials say
I want to be one less person.
One less person to leave my crap on the shelf
And not deal with it.
I don't want to walk around stuck with all this stuff
That I haven't addressed.
Taking a good look at yourself
Is never easy.
Something gross is always bound to pop up.
But it doesn't mean
You are unloveable
Or unworthy.
I think once those things are off the shelf and in my journal,
I can get back to having consistent
Days.
Days that are pure.
Days that I won't want to end.
This process took a lot of work the first time around,
But in the end I came out stronger.
And almost every day,
Was a good day.

The Burning of the Iowa Sun.

I am sitting here with random parts of my body feeling as though I am on fire. I wish I could say it's because of the passionate loving I'm experiencing, ha, but no, it's sunburn.

As my Colorado friend told me, the sun doesn't shine in Iowa. Hence both my other Iowa friend and I got fried because, yesterday, the sun chose to make an appearance.

This sunburn reminds me of another time I got myself a nice burn.

It was a few years ago and I went on this crazy road trip with a group of girls. I mean crazy. Long hours in a car with four girls I didn't know very well and one I did know well. It. Was. Awesome.

Anyways, one day on our trip we decided to visit the beach. I love the beach and sand and all things water. Thinking not much of it, I splashed a little lotion on myself and proceeded to enjoy my day. It was a lovely day.

Upon arriving back to the hotel, the girls and I discover my sunburn. It was flaming red intense. Red. The funniest and saddest part about this sunburn is that I managed to give myself handprints, white handprints in the midst of a sunburnt back. This was the one spot I'd managed to reach by myself with the lotion.

So this morning, as I lather my burnt skin with lotion, I write a tribute to my worst sunburn ever. I'll only say this in addition, it's funny how there are just some things we can't do by ourselves. My refusul to let someone slather my back with lotion the first time required me to allow someone to slather my back with lotion for the next three days. Funny how we sometimes resist help until we get burned. Oh wait, this story is about me ( :

Second Chances

Hope.

With change can come hope.

For once,

i am hopeful.

We all get second chances.

Sometimes it takes a good shove to inspire us to move, change, or grow.

We can all change.

As long as it comes from inside ourselves, our own hearts.

We do not have to be defined by our childhoods or parents.

We can claim freedom.

I hope I inspire someone today.

I hope you inspire someone today.

I hope you are inspired today.

To hope, to love, to give a second chance, or to give yourself a second chance.

Especially to hope.

Where do we go from here?

This is what I am thinking.

Sometimes walking away from something is

Healthy.

Other times,

It's the opposite.

I'm not one to throw it all out there.

On a prior blog of mine,

My emotions and life were splashed across the page.

A mess.

So I'll only say this,

That I don't know

Where to go from here.

I know there is a future

Beyond the one we planned and pictured.

But now instead of putting pieces into the puzzle

It seems we are slowly taking it apart.

I grow weary running it over

In my heart and in my head.

Where do we go from here?

I suppose we go forward.

As best we can.

The Cover of Darkness (Closet)

Whoosh
Whoosh
The rythmic sounds sets my heart faster and faster
My arms cut through the thick
Night air.
I spin around only to
Spin again.
Backwards.
Forwards.
I am me
In this place.
When I can hide
Beneath the cover of darkness
And barely lit streetlights.
No one hears the hymns I sing
Or hears the sounds I make.
They are all inside.
Their T.V.s flashing.
Unknowing that I am
Looking in on
Their world.
I used to go into empty spaces
And cry out.
My pain.
My grief.
My sorrow.
Everything.
Dear God.
Why.
And I would seemingly
Perfectly
Move gracefully
Jumping and Flowing.
This is my outlet.
The one place I can go and pour myself
Completely into.
Where my worries are washed
Away into a basin of speed
And sound.
I like to think that out there I am nameless.
Only my grace, my spins, and my jumps
Define me.
I am God's creature.
Beautiful in motion.
When I am one with my skates
I feel I am who He made me to be.
FREE.
If only for an hour.
It is nice to feel total
Freedom.
No demons can catch me.
Lay me in my grave
With skates
So I may hope in heaven
They have rollerblades.

A little problem.

Attitude.

A lesson I have to remember to learn over and over again.

A good friend and I had many tough conversations about attitude throughout a hard time in my life. I was pretty much really good at throwing pity-parties and exuding negativity and miserableness.

I recently saw a poster that said, "Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference".

So true.

My attitude is something that I don't want to control me. I don't want to be defined by a self-pitying attitude. It's not attractive or productive. It covers up the best of who I am and turns me into my worst self.

Often when this type of attitude comes over me, I'll do anything I can to get the most out of it. I'll sit in it, throw it around in the air, spread it around to others, and make sure I don't have a good day.

Then there are brief moments when someone I love and respect will tell me how it is, in a gentle and honest way, and I'll realize how much I've been dragging myself down. I am reminded that I can CHOOSE to be who I want to be, just as much as the kids I work with can choose, so can I. I don't have to be this way or that way.

I can
Just
Be
Myself.

And that's OK.

No one has signed an order that I must be miserable.

It's easy to think and believe that just because a few hard things happen in your life, you are somehow required to live in misery, always expecting the worst.

That is not who I am. Nor how I want to live.

I want to expect the best out of every day rather than expecting it to be miserable.

I don't want to sit by and wait for miracles to happen in my life, I want to make my life miraculous. And in so many ways, it already is.

I forget sometimes.
I forget the beauty there is in each day.
I forget that I am blessed with people to love.
And people who love me.
I forget that though I don't have the best job in the world,
I am employed.
I forget that every day at Y-Care I see smiles
That I helped create.
I forget that every time I'm a stranger in yet another classroom,
I have the power to make or break a child's day.
I forget that making miracles,
Is only so difficult as a quick phone call
Or short text.

I don't want to sit around and mope.

This is my declaration. My declaration of freedom to be the person I KNOW is inside of me. The eternal soul that rests within these skin and bones. The part of me that has so much to offer but gets covered up by the daily grit and grime.

So I declare.

Freedom.

One Word Sums It All Up.

Worried.

Worried. Worried.

I feel the future closing in one me as it draws closer and closer.

I hear all these stories....so and so didn't get a teaching job until school started....

They always come out with more jobs in June........

Keep looking, you'll find something........

I know others are trying to encourage me, yet it still is frustrating. I've sent out application after application after application. I feel like a little kid waiting for someone to pick me for their team and yet I'm still sitting on the sidelines. I'm the one who is not good enough, whose credentials aren't up to snuff.

I want to move on and grow up and work. In ONE place. with ONE group of kids. I am starting to get frazzled with every new group of kids that I have and every new group of teachers I meet. I'm honestly worn out of this whole subbing thing.

Where was I when the rules changed? I have everything I need to teach. Yet I still don't feel like it's enough. My fellow Y-Care staff tell me I'm going to be a good teacher, but no one else sees this and I'm beginning to wonder if I should have gone into some other sort of profession.

My favorite part of my day is going to Y-Care. I KNOW those kids and they know me. We have fun together and if one of them is having a problem, they come to me. If they're moody, I bother them until they can't resist joining in a game of UNO. I know how to keep kids engaged and interested. I know how to teach them. I know these things. I want to see a group of kids all through the school year. Watch them learn, grow, and become continually confident in their academic abilities.

To have the tools and the knowledge and yet still feel limited is just tough. This is what I have chosen to do with my life. Teaching is my passion. Perhaps I will find it. A job will come to me and it will all work out.

Yet, when times toughen up, I am always the pessimist. Dire predictions fill my head until I'm sure the world is going to end and it will be all my fault. I never give up on those around me, but even as an adult, sometimes I have to fight the temptation to give up on myself.

This is one of those times.

Wordless with words. And still without

Sometimes I don't have any words
But still want to write.
It's not writer's block
Instead it's a simple case of
Feeling that the words I would normally type
Cannot hold the depth of what I'm feeling.
Yet some part of me wants shout out
My feelings in no safe or productive way.
Today it's OK to have no words.
Tomorrow perhaps will be
Tears instead of speech
As i again grieve.
It's as simple as missing
And as complex as losing.
No words.
Some days are hard for me.
Mother's day is one of them.
Perhaps this is why
Friday was full of
Emotional distress
And weary anticipation of the weekend.

Finally, Something decent to

Write in!

Now, I have to confess, I am a journaler. And, trust me, it benefits me and everyone around me. It keeps me emotionally stable when I can write out my emotions and say WHATEVER I want and know it doesn't affect anyone. It helps me work through my feelings before spurting them all over the next person who walks in.

A good journal is one thing I need to remember to actually spend decent money on. I had this journal that I took to NC with me and it was OK but not awesome. just average. So. I ended up not really using it.

I've recently come to some personal conclusions concerning my faith after wrestling with quite a few questions and in reaching a point where I know I need grace, I find myself back to where I started. And back to where I started is with a good journal. One where I can pour out my soul and heart to a compassionate God. And I'm excited. I'm excited for this sweet new journal and I'm excited that my heart is again stirring with peace instead of unending skepticism and questions. I think it just came to the point of admitting that no matter the amount or scope of my questions, at the end of the day, I need to know I'm not shoving through this life and these challenges alone.

So, if I perhaps neglect this here blog for a while, it is because I am getting reacquainted with an old friend. A lovely journal.

The Search

The search has been on for quite some time now. I have labeled myself "substitute teacher". That's right. I'm the kinda teacher you used to play tricks on in elementary school when your regular teacher wasn't there.

Sometimes I'm really nice to the kids just to see if it works. However, usually I have to show my mean side so they don't think I won't put my foot down.

Anyways.
I have been applying to many different districts around the area hoping that someone will give me a chance. Sometimes it's really frustrating and I get exasperated.

I know I can do it.

My fiance has also been job searching, otherwise he's stuck with a internship that would only pay half what his starting salary would usually be. So far he's had one interview and will be interviewing with someone else.

In my department my interviews total to...da da da....One screening interview!

Until today.

Today I have an interview in my hometown for my dream job. A Spanish Teaching Elementary job. At my former elementary school. Could it get anymore ironic? Yes. The principal was my fourth grade teacher.

I say dream job because Spanish has been something that I enjoy, that I hope to use, and hope to teach. With my degree I can teach Spanish in grades K-8. At this school I'd be like the music teacher in that I'd go around and teach a half-hour Spanish lesson and then move onto the next group.

Can you picture little kids running in place while I say, "correr"? Or saying "hola"

Ha. I can.

Hopefully my former fourth grade teacher can too!

Love & Sorrow

It's in a mutual look
Arms around me
A brush of a kiss on my cheek
On my lips.
It's when
I'd rather eat in my car
With him
Than be comfy at home
On the couch.
It's when.
I am content
To be together.
After a whole weekend
Of togetherness.
Sometimes I wonder.
If I'm still actually really in love.
Or not.
But then there are moments
When without a doubt
I am in love.
And I wouldn't trade the world.
We're in this together.
I hope we change some corner of the world
Together.

In other news:

Mother's day is coming. And so what of it?
You know I would buy her
Flowers and chocolate.
Her favorite kind.
But her time ran out.
And I feel like one of those grains of sand
Left on the bottom.
Covered by a life that has ran out.
If only.
So many if onlys.
As though I could have done something
Anything
To slow it down.
Yet I only have the faintest memories
And even those have begun to fade.
You move through my dreams and memories
I strain to hear your voice in my ear
A mother's whispering
And unconditional love.
Would you say
You are proud of me?
Would you give
Me a hug?
Would you write me a postcard
From heaven?
Yet I know.
questions that will remain questions
And the storm rising inside of me
Will remain my entire life.
No one has ever measured up
To the role you played in
My life.
Sometimes I still look for you
In glimpses of other
Women.
But you are unfindable.
I must again
Grieve.
Lost.
Gone.
My tears have yet to run dry.

The Lovely Book

I often wait to write until I am inspired or moved. Sometimes I feel inspired but it's just not something I want the whole world to know about, but today, I am inspired.

My new favorite author is Stephanie Kallos. I read her second book, Sing them Home, first. This book was also great. Her stories center on family. On how families drift and flow, how they come apart and back together and sometimes how losing something can also heal something.

Yet her first book I loved even more, especially the characters. They had a depth and came to life in such a way that I miss them already. The book is called "Broken for You"

A quote:

"The broken are not always gathered together, of course, and not all mysteries of the flesh are solved. We speak of "senseless tragedies," but really: Is there any other kind? Mothers and wives disappear without a trace. Children are killed. Madmen ravage the world, leaving wounds immeasurably deep, and endlessly mourned. Loved ones whose presence once filled us move into the distance; our eyes follow them as long as possible as they recede from view. Maybe we chase them - clumsily, across railroad tracks and trafficked streets; over roads new-printed with their footsteps, the dust still whirling in the wake of them; through impossibly big cities peopled with strangers whose faces and bodies carry fragments of their faces and bodies, whose laughter, steadiness, pluck, stubbornness remind us of the beloved we seek. Maybe we stay put, left behind, and look for them in our dreams. But we never stop looking, not even after those we love become part of the unreachable horizon. We can never stop carrying the heavy weight of love on this pilgriamage; we can only transfigure what we carry. We can only shatter it and send it whirling into the world so that it can take shape in some new way." (351)

And finally,

"Look then at the faces and bodies of people you love. The expicit beauty that comes not from the smoothness of skin or neutrality of expression, but from the web of experience that has left its mark. Each face, each body is its own living fossilized record. A record of cats. combatants, difficult births; of accidents, cruelties, blessings. Reminders of folly, greed, indiscretion, impatience. A moment of time, of memory, preserved, internalized, and enshrined within and upon the body. You need not be told that these records are what render your beloved beautiful. If God exists, He is there, in the small, cast-off peices, rough and random and no two alike." (367)

I would recommend this book highly.

It contains a women suffering a brain tumor, an old house, a strange boarder or two, and a collision of lives. It's a collage of suffering and hope. It is real, raw, and yet lovely. I could only hope to write like this, I could only wish to write in such a way. The words crashing like waves. Waves that are neither this nor that, but everything at once. Words that not only tell fictional stories, but seem to tell my own.

I will fall for you over again

After a long week apart, sometimes it's hard to adjust back into each other's spheres. The weekends are sometimes hard on my fiance and I.

He's exhausted and I just want to see him. Yet so often the little things become big things and suddenly we're both moody about something completely irrelevant. It's usually because I've missed him all week and he's missed me all week and things that would have been talked about are pushed off for lack of quality time. Yet, I feel our maturity growing as we get moody, calm down, and then have fun an hour later doing something random. In this aspect I feel success. Because we have learned to get past moody phases. Moody phases and simply shutting down when moodiness occurs is one thing that gets us nowhere.

Yet. The weekends also are a time of renewal. And this weekend we just got to rest and relax today. Just spend the day in closeness to one another. I cannot wait. I cannot wait to have a home and a life with him. And fall more in love each day. Over again.

Jumping Cats

Sometimes I find in my most weary of days there is something to bring me a smile.

For example.

Picture 2 cats walking into your room and looking supiciously at a computer cord, the same computer cord that has been present for many months, as though it is a wild snake or other dangerous thing.

They sneak up on it and sniff cautiously and somehow don't notice that when the "snake" moves the human foot is moving it. Because of this lack of brain power, as they sniff at the cord the slightest jerk of the cord will send them jumping a kind of straight up and back jump. Ha.

Not only do they jump once, but after calming down they come back to sniff the cord and again leap back with an exetreme amount of worry. I have to admit pretty entertaining.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xGSvlk6u1-I

Just Check out this video. No way you can resist laughing!

Hope and a Quick note on Relationships

A message of Hope.
Why do people run from it?
Do we really think,
Is it possible
That it's so hard to believe
Perhaps I am too much of a believer in grace
Yet I put my hope
In a rolled away stone
In the belief that my death,
Those who die of cancer, car accidents, heart attacks, old age, and others
Are dancing on streets that are golden.
Why is it too good to be true?
I admit that I've had my doubts and my struggles.
There have been times when I've wanted to run
From faith, from belief.
Yet still,
I tear up when people talk about heaven
No more death or tears.
It's enough for me to make me hold to the cross.
You see
It's not about religion, or exclusion, about being right about gay rights, or about abortion.
It's about a simple man
On a cross.
It's about an empty grave.
I'm not expecting everyone to believe what I believe
I'm only hoping that instead of seeing me as
A right-wing activist Christian,
To be considered
As a simple woman
Who makes mistakes
And admits she needs something to save herself from herself.
I choose for that to be Christ.
If you don't want Christians to judge you,
Hold back from judging them.
We are not so different.
Simple.
Not impossible.
Perhaps hope is something we all need.
Perhaps hope is something found in many different places.


Other notes:

One of the beautiful things about relationships is humility. It is being able to be upset and grouchy and tired at each other during the day and then to talk later, cut through all the crap, and say, "I love you. I'm sorry. Sometimes I'm not very good at this." Sometimes. Love, I think, is 80 percent humility. Because in loving someone it is pretty much a requirement that we be weak, vulnerable, that we let our defenses down, that we let someone tell us like it is, that we face up to telling them like it is with the risk of provoking anger or frustration. I'm learning how to do this with wisdom and grace. It's always easy to say something hard in a mean way, but it's difficult to find a way to think through the words that would invite intimacy as opposed to scarcasm or some other harsh response. I am thankful for the fruitfulness of humility in my relationship.

Play Time

Afternoons I get to fall into a place
It's a place where I can run and play
And remind myself that I'm not quite
Too old to play like a child.
I hang out with second graders
And together we make jokes about
Pirates "AARRRGHHH"
Her face gets all scrunched up as she copies me and says,
"AARRRGGGHH"
Another boy asks me to count the number of times he does push-ups.
And I twirl a jump rope as child after child jumps through
Singing silly songs.
The youngest one yells,
"Watch me"
And I enjoyably watch her do amazing stunts
At least amazing for a young one.
Today we made a human knot and untied ourselves
Yesterday we played silent ball
And since my arrival this week
We've been lining up and marching outside like soldiers
"hut two three four".
I don't have to get out my teacher voice all the time
Nor do I have to yell.
It's just hanging out for two hours with kids being
Kids.
And sometimes after a long day of having to yell at kids
It's nice just to play and watch them
Play.

Flash that guitar Back to the Past!

I watched a movie tonight which involved drumming and two unlikely characters coming together, one to learn music and one to teach it.

In some ways, I was reminded of many many lessons within a similar story. Two people, somewhat unlikely people, coming together. One to learn music and another to teach it.

My guitar lessons took place in days of grief and misery. Moping and sitting and staring were day to day activities, though I rarely told anyone about what I did in my spare time. Sometimes staring felt good because it meant I didn't have to think, I could just....be. And moping,

Well, I'm really good at self-pity sometimes. Especially when I feel like nothing is in my control.

Back to guitar. I remember desiring so very much to play. I loved how the acoustic sounded. So smooth and sharp at the same time. So many different sounds all at once. I had the lovely priviledge of knowing someone who wrote and played their own music on guitar. Her songs and passion inspired me and somehow we worked out that she would teach me guitar.

Some days were terrible. The lessons were painful for both of us. It's hard to enjoy music when you are wallowing and determined to be miserable. Yet she never gave up on me and I stubbornly refused to give up on myself.

You see, behind all the moping and self-pity, I was just a simple girl in love with guitar. It wouldn't matter if I wasn't awesome at it, nor did I really want to put in the time to perform with it, I just wanted to PLAY.

In some ways, my guitar skills feel like a miracle. Both my teacher and I had to go through the awkward road of figuring out my rhythm stunk because I was a leftie attempting to play righty.

I still remember the day she fixed up my guitar so I could play leftie. I was exetremely depressed. I had to relearn EVERYTHING. Terrible.

It's like learning to walk a certain way and then someone having to break your legs so you can walk the correct way. Painful.

To look back on those days is very strange sometimes. Though I still like to mope occasionally, I have found that there is usually some speck of joy to be found in living life. And I have learned that the longer one wallows the more one misses.

This is more of a reflection on my past. I think amongst all of it is a thankfulness to my past self for persevering and a thankfulness to my guitar teacher for taking so much time to teach me guitar and so many other things about life.

Two unlikely characters. Two guitars. And two different stories. Yet the beauty is in knowing that we didn't waste any of the time we had together. It is all very rich. Neither of us knew much about how to help each other. But I hope and believe it made life a little bit easier on both of us knowing that we had our guitars and our lessons and our passion.

Chords

I just talked to one of the loveliest people in my life.

A dear friend since my freshmen year of college when we did crazy funny things together.

A woman who has faced a lot in life and in past relationships and very recently has been blessed with a man that matches her perfectly!

I can't get over it! And I can't get over my excitement for her. She's persevered through a lot and this blessing is spilling over.

It's always sweet to see close friends experiencing joy and happiness. Something good. It is possible that those moments of joy and perfection still exist. I love knowing their joy, anyone, whether it's following a lifelong dream or falling in love or making peace with something in their past. Tiny glimpses of hope which remind me to not let the darkness and dullness of day to day life ever erase my passion and joy.

Most of all, I love talking to my friends, the ones I've known for two or more years on the phone and laughing and talking together. I have always been odd about the friends I stay in touch with. They tend to be not drama-ish and real and honest. They tend to see me for what I am and love me in ways I couldn't ask or expect. It just works. They know my past and some of my struggles, but it doesn't get in the way of how they view me. Those friends I stay in contact with just get me.

And yet at the same time, each of them are so different than the other! No two of my good friends are anything at all alike and the variations and colors that their personalities offer bring me such interesting perspectives and joy. It's like, having children and loving each one because they all have something different and unique to offer. Except having way good friends.

In any case. It's refreshing to talk to old friends and I appreciate their effort to remain in contact with me especially when they're busy or tired or sad or don't like talking on the phone. Their voices remind me of winds of love. Love that washes across miles and phones and days and years. Love that strikes a deep chord of familiarity and a sort of being in tune with other people that helps you remember you aren't quite alone. That in itself is nothing short of amazing.

Reunited

Yesterday was a joyous day of being reunited with a pair of workable roller blades!

we took my worn out blades to a sports store and I got a new pack of wheels which the guys there put on the blades for me.

of course, they broke off one of the bearings in the wheel, they put all the wheels on one of the blades and then asked me if the wheels were too loose (they were missing the spacers, causing the wheels to move back and forth in ways which could have been dangerous. What would have taken about 20 minutes took an hour.

Included in this is the fact that my man decided he should buy some sweet blades so he could come skating with me (note: he hasn't skated in any form for a very long time, I've been skating in blade form for a very long time).

We got home and I was itching to try out these new wheels and he wanted to see what it was like to skate. I got on and zoomed around, he got on and well, did his best to zoom around. All in all, it was an interesting experience. It's always strange when you can do something really well and then someone else feels disappointed because they can't do it as well. Even though you've worked at that particular thing for a very long amount of time. That's what I tried to make sure he knew, I didn't pick up blading in a day, i am as good as I am because I've done it for years.



I always feel free when I skate. There's no limits and no one to tell me how to do it.
It's like eating green eggs and ham, I would skate with anyone or alone, anywhere or at home.
Where I live the flat land is at least good for something,
I missed the many trails and sidewalks when I was in NC
People there just didn't seem to bike or go trail walking as much.
To bike on the road seemed dangerous to me as the speed limits were 45 miles an hour near my neighborhood. I didn't feel comfortable having cars go around me at those speeds.
All this to say,

Welcome back closet rollerblader. Freedom to live is here.

In search of the Other Side: Green

I've been thinking a lot about the grass greener on the other side idea.

I suppose it's quite easy to be tempted to think that a this instead of that would somehow make all the difference to your level of happiness.

I sometimes find myself guilty of this in my relationship. Not because I don't like this, but sometimes me taking this for granted tempts me to consider what that must be like.

For example,

We were driving back to my place from having run some errands and he had to work so I was thinking he'd prob. just want to go to my place and chill/relax. This thought bummed me out b/c it was a beautiful day. I mean lovely. It's funny, b/c in this state all the hibernating people suddenly turn out in droves on the sidewalks, on their bikes, and in their lawns once a semi-warm day hits. It's great. It was one of those days. And it kinda bummed me out to go back so I mentioned taking a walk. He mentioned he'd be walking around all night at work. But that he wouldn't mind sitting outside somewhere. Discouraged, I dropped the issue thinking we'd head back. In my grass greener mind I thought, man, wouldn't it be nice if I had a guy who would just pull over as soon as I mentioned the idea.

Well. I have officially decided I'm on the green grass b/c that's exactly what he did. We took an unexpected turn and I said, where we goin? and he said, I thought you wanted to go to a park? I said, I thought you didn't want to walk around. He said, I don't but we could walk to a bench and sit down and chat. Wow. Talk about me getting my eyes of that other side (which I suspect really has brown grass). And back onto my own sweet man.

Never mind that the bench he was thinking of was much further down the trail than suspected. And that most of the trail we walked was still covered in snow/slush.

It's in those little tiny things. Perhaps people would have less affairs or less relational problems if instead of turning a blind ear to each other, we listened to each other, and not only listened but acted swiftly on their words. Instead of giving and taking, what if we focused on the giving and left ourselves to feel surprised in the receiving?

I never expected or really asked for anyone to love me. And even when my eyes wander over to that other grass, it usually only takes a moment for me to realize I'm already on it.

In other words: I really like this side of things.

Weary

Sigh.

Sometimes this job wears me down.

Some days I'm on top of my game and the kids and I have a really great day.

But there's other days when the weariness of what I'm doing causes to wake up with much hesitation. New classroom. New group of kids. Who knows what they will be like or what stuff they will try and pull with me.

I've had many classes that I've really enjoyed.

And also met many very responsible and respectful students. The unfortunate side of that coin is every teacher tends to remember the problem kids more than the good ones.

Perhaps today I am just worn out.

Anger Dream

I had a really vivid dream last night:

I dreamed I was a student in this class and we were working on maps or something. I went to the bathroom to take a break and came back to find my class had moved. I went looking for my class and found them. I eyed my teacher out of the corner of my eye to see if he'd noticed how long I'd truly been gone. He was oblivious. I sat down in a chair at this table the rest of my class was at. I remember that we were supposed to draw arrows by California, one pointing North and the other South. I had a lot of trouble with these arrows.

I made some comment about something to which my brother replied, Jill you are so dumb.

At this I became extremely upset. I told him I didn't like that he would make fun of me in front of my friends, I was yelling at him at this point. And that it was one thing to make fun of me when no one else was around, but it's another thing to make fun of me in front of all these people and that I didn't appreciate it. I started sobbing. Right at this moment I dreamed my dad was looking into the room and walking toward my brother. I went to the bathroom to cry and calm down. And then I woke up. Still feeling a torment of emotions.

I've been thinking a lot about anger lately. Some of the kids at school only know how to deal with hurt and other problems by flashing immediately to anger. It's hard to believe, they are good kids, when all you see in them is flashing anger.

Perhaps this was me testing out what it would be like to express myself in a similar fashion those kids do, which I sometimes see as very childish. Also, perhaps I should feel that God should intervene and chastise those of His children who abuse the abilities and powers they have through putting others down. Just like when my dad came in the picture, even though most of me knew my dad wasn't going to fix it. Students often think that I as the teacher will fix their conflicts but when I am unable to do so, will turn their anger toward me. Or as I was thinking of a fellow sub who had experienced a great deal of anger from a class. It's interesting.

I talked to a friend yesterday about how anger can turn someone you treasure and love into a scary person. Perhaps I had this dream to better understand why someone I loved could get so angry.

All in all. I just hope this dream doesn't visit me again.

RoAd TrIp

Friday!!!!

Woot!

I am loving on the Friday action!

I am especially excited for this Friday because my SO and I are taking a bit of a road trip down to Kansas City! Awesome!

We're going to hang out with his sister and brother-in-law, and their small child.

road trips= good quality time.

He hasn't had free time since Sunday. Finally finally we'll get some good time together.

All in all, it should be a good time. Just to be somewhere else and spend time with different people. I mean, cabin fever does tend to set in, job or no job.

Happy Weekend.

Love

Are not we in constant change?
Indeed.
I find me changing
And you changing
And US changing.
I remember days would I would have been content to just...
Look at you.
Or hold your hand.
Now the moments of pure love
And beauty
Are fleeting.
As day to day
Hits each of us
Between the eyes.
Ours isn't the only baggage we have to deal with.
Of what love can I speak of that is
Free of burdens.
None.
I laugh with you.
We are in a game.
The love-game.
Some days I am drunk with it.
Other days it is a weary wheel
Spinning and spinning.
For I carry your burdens
Along with my own.
True.
Yet the joy
Is real.
Together we take life
And together we pull
our burdens.
I memorize your face again,
Every time
Just in case.
Just in case.
With its loving look.
Because we play the
Love-game.
Our laughter echoes to the heavens and we share.
Our ka-tet
Our secret club.
With those who would look fully and see.
May they rejoice.
To see hope
Is to live.

Dear Weekend.

Hello Weekend,

I've been waiting patiently for you. The days when I wouldn't have to leave my phone on vibrate just in case some school calls me at 6:15 in the morning.

There's something about you, weekend, that relaxes my heart and soul.

I feel I've been rushing, rushing, rushing. Rushing to build up, rushing to tear down, rushing to mend, and rushing to make whole. Perhaps, weekend, you will give me some moments to slow down. Some moments to consider my burdens and lay them down.

Oh weekend, I've been so weary and my emotions a roller coaster. I am containing the high hopes that you will provide a hiding place for me where I can lay and rest my weary head.

I know that our brief relationship will end and Monday at midnight I'll have to kiss you goodbye. But for now, weekend, I shall relax in you for this brief time.

Driving in the Morning

I love driving in the mornings.

this morning I drove to Wav. to experience some junior high science.

I had a great day today.

as I was driving this morning the sun was mostly up but still had a bit to go......

The kids were mostly good

and as I drove I took in the snow covered rolling hills....

They have a test tomorrow over mitosis.

the stark cold beauty captivated me

I wish I could grade their papers.

i found myself thinking....

Maybe this IS where I want to BE.

maybe this is where I want to be.



May you find yourself passionate about life no matter what your location or occupation. May the people around you, the old friends, and the new ones bring you enough laughter to spread over the miles. May you find yourself thinking that this IS where you want to be. And may you rejoice in the simple beauties of the day.

Squeeze

Paul and I are learning to squeeze in time together around our schedules.

It's very interesting how easy it is to say we are busy when in reality,

We tend to have thousands of free moments dedicated to doing nothing that we just really never knew about.

My first fears about not being able to spend time with him have been waylaid by seeing how much a difference stopping by his work briefly can make in keeping us connected and updated. Or even how much talk and time can be magnified when used wisely together. Even him calling while he's at work every night makes a difference.

In other news: Today I taught high school Spanish. I must admit that I did enjoy certain parts of it. However, I'm growing weary of feeling like the stranger in the classroom. I keep reminding myself that the actual teaching thing is not anything like substitute teaching. Subbing is interesting. And I'm learning a lot. Yet chillin with different kids and a certain level of unpredictability to each day tends to become wearying. Yet push on I shall.

Letting Go of Monkeys.

It's funny how another's words can inspire emotions in my own soul.
I never used to read things and cry.
This softness of my heart I believe started when I began to accept,
That God gives me grace.
It's so easy to be so hard on ourselves.
To go back and rethink and let our past haunt us.
It's strange and yet somewhat understandable how things
Cycle.
The one year anniversary of my mom's death,
I had to go through a whole battle of
Accepting that things weren't my fault.
That nothing I did or didn't do could have changed the
Outcome.
My refusal to deal with that shade of guilt and that sense of responsibility
Led to blame and bitterness.
When we feel guilty
I think the first thing we do is find someone else to blame.
In many moments and many whispers,
I had to hear "it's not your fault"
Some days I feel so burdened with
My family's loss and pain.
I'm sure others have felt the same for their families.
I didn't know that was the monkey on my back at that time
Yet, the monkey comes back to visit
Again the guilt shades my view
And I feel responsible for all their pain.
People always used to tell me
That the death of my mother,
Would always affect me.
Freedom that was once had,
Can be sought again.
Yet sometimes I still am afraid
of
Letting Go.

The 3rd, 5th, 7th, and 8th Grade Week song

On the first day of school
My week gave to me,
Mitosis in the 7th grade.
The chromosomes were splitting,
The students were sort of working.
And one student said "how old are you?"
On the second day of school
My week gave to me,
Third grade.
Students were small
Their concerns were large,
And all the students said "that's not how we do it."
On that same day of school,
My week gave to me,
Fifth grade.
Independent clauses
The students all said, "you are mean!"
On the third day of school
My week gave to me,
Geography and history.
The students were large.
Some worked hard.
One said to me, "can I listen to this song by Pink"
I said no
With a partridge in a pear tree!

In case of cabin fever: do hip-hop

I have discovered the best relief to cabin fever in the winter.

I have a problem. My problem is that I love to bike, roller blade, play frisbee, and just plain be outside and be active. I love doing things outside.

The problem comes when it's winter. It's minus two degrees outside and if I tried to throw a frisbee my fingers would freeze.

Yet! Have NO fear!

What, you may ask, is my salvation?

Hip-hop Dance Videos! Work-out hip-hop dance videos to be specific.

The moves include all the challenges of skating. I can jump, spin in circles, and do moves like putting my left foot over my right and then throwing my arms around! Pretty active!

My current roomie introduced me to dance and I think that I like it. Dance also includes working with a beat and with a rythm which I love but am not always skilled at (just ask my guitar teacher about the rythm thing). I love finding the beat and going along with it in my moves.

In case of cabin fever: Do hip-hop

The Seventh Grade English

The beauty of being able to sub in America today is that you are allowed to sub K-12. Sweet.

Yesterday I worked in a junior high teaching an English lesson to mostly 7th grade students.

Loved it! I think junior high teachers have it easy. They can plan one lesson for like three classes for ONE day!

Elementary teachers have to plan five or six lesson plans per day per week.

Perhaps I shall in the future make is so that I am certified to teach k-12. Then if I get tired of the little kids I can just move on up to the high school. Yup. Life is good!

In other thoughts:

It's funny how many people want to help with wedding plans. It's a bit overwhelming too.

I'm thinking of it like a puzzle. Some people want me to put the middle pieces together first and some people want me to put the edge pieces together first. I'm still working on looking at the big picture and getting the pieces out of the box. What do I have to work with? Who is willing to help? What do I want the big picture to look like?

I'm approaching it with some nervousness as a wedding is much more public than a puzzle and sometimes the best puzzles take the longest to put together. But with determination and persistence, the pieces come together and before you know it, it's finished.

Substitute

Yesterday I hung out with 18 four and five year olds. Talk about little people!

They needed so much help.

The first thing I was supposed to talk about with the kids was the calendar which was still a week off since the small children hadn't been in school. I started out by saying who I was. Then I asked them what day it was.

A small child raised their hand and I picked them and they said, "Sunday!" I said, "no". What day comes after Sunday?

"Sunday!" Sigh. OK Today is Monday if today is Monday what day will tomorrow be?

"Sunday" Sing. Uhm. Nope, it starts with a T

"Thursday!". Ha. No it's Tuesday.

They were cute for about the first 2 hours, Then when the associate and I were gearing up all 18 small children for recess and none of them could zip their coats and seemed to think they had all the time in the world to change into snow pants, coats, hats, boots, and gloves, I decided they weren't really that cute. Ha.

Maybe if there had been less then 18 small children.

Yet it was great.

Great to be in a classroom and getting PAID! Wow! I think the knowledge that I am working gives me a much better attitude than I even had last semester. Of course I will work hard in the classroom each day. Especially if I know I am working for money, to support myself and to support my lifestyle. It's nice to feel that I've earned this. I've earned the right to work in the classroom. I have a piece of paper that represents that right. Seems silly that all they give me after four and a half years is a piece of paper! Yet to the school system, it's exactly what I needed.

Seems Ironic.

As the characters in Stephen King's novel would say, "sounds Hawaiian doesn't it?"