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.