Rough Waters

Rough waters for me and my family of late. Seeing someone you love walk closer to death is never an easy journey. Especially when that journey is composed of tiny steps closer to death’s door. Physical ailments pile on. Doctor’s visits accumulate on the calendar. ER doctors, Cardiologists, Neurologists, Orthopedics, the family physician. Chest pain, nausea, a fall. Repeated and repeated. 

Seeing a loved one downsize into a smaller home, sell most of their possessions. Settle into a foreign life with new neighbors and a different routine. Bury their spouse— the other half of the set. Vision issues, memory loss, the gentle and quiet become combative and hateful. It isn’t them of course, only their disease which is taking over their mind and body, but not their soul. 

I still look at her at times and catch a glimpse of the person I knew as a child. But then in a flash I look into her dark brown eyes and realize she’s gone, or rather leaving, in transition, in flux. The person I speak of is my grandma that came to every ball game she could when I was a child.  Her presence in the stands alongside my mother bolstered my confidence before every national anthem of basketball and volleyball games in middle school and high school and even college. She is beginning her departure from cognitive reality. Slipping further from our grasp.

We All Need BIGGER People

I’m not talking about taller or a bigger person in stature. I’m speaking of a bigger person in heart, in compassion, and in integrity. Humans are complicated. What motivates us and makes us tick is very different for each person. And when it comes to relationships— forget about it!  The complicated idiosyncrasies that make relationships work and not work are so beyond understanding and discussing on a blog that I’m not even going to try to go in depth. I’m merely putting out there that there always need to be a bigger person.

A bigger person to let an argument go. Or to forgive. Or maybe even a bigger person to forgive when there isn’t even an apology offered. We sometimes have blinders on when it comes to our own feelings and needs. In some relationships the bigger person is always the BIGGER person and that’s what keeps the relationship going. In other relationships, perhaps it’s a matter of the season and it could change depending on the circumstances the people and the particular relationship finds itself. No matter which person you identify with right now (aren’t we all saying we’re the bigger personJ ) somewhere down the road there will be someone in one of your relationships that becomes the BIGGER person. We have that human ability to let our selfishness dreadfully shine through, but thankfully, we as humans, have just the same capacity to become the BIGGER person. Don’t read my words wrong . . . don’t be a push over and let someone walk all over you, but giving grace to another human is an act that you won’t regret. Because you never know when you might need a little grace yourself.

INSOMNIA

Outside of really terrible things I can't think of anything much worse than to be trapped with my thoughts all night without sleep. Those who sleep well do not understand what a blessing it is to lay your head on a pillow and drift off into a deep, restorative sleep.

This week I have had minimal sleep. One night I may have gotten three hours. I tossed and turned. At times I told myself not to look at the clock because it would make the night go slower. And guess what? Moments after I told myself not to look at that clock, I did. And then I repeated that cycle several more times. "Don't look at the clock." (I did, again.) And yes, it did seem to make the night crawl at a snail's pace.

I got out of bed three or four times in the wee hours of the morning thinking that perhaps if I had something to drink or a bite to eat it'd be easier to find a few hours of good sleep. Neither drink nor food helped calm my mind. I began to think that perhaps if I gave my anxious thoughts to God in prayer and meditation that it would soothe my troubled soul. Hours later, my soul still troubled and my mind still stirred. And my body still did not sleep.

After the worst night I caved and bought a variety of over-the-counter sleeping aids. I understand the studies that sleeping aids really only mask a bigger problem and REM sleep usually doesn't occur for those whom partake in the ritual of a pill. It was minimal help.

So why am I so anxious? What are my convoluted thoughts? When the distractions of the day are gone there is a myriad of thoughts that consume me. Thoughts about my daily schedule, the effectiveness of my time, my troubles and others' troubles, worry and strife of those I love and my brain flips like a rolodex to find a way to find peace and solace in the crazy world in which we live. I rethink my past and wonder about my future. Wondering if I'll ever be at peace with the situation and station of life at the present. For I feel I have something bigger to share than what I have shared. And I believe I have a better contribution than which I've given thus far. With this uneasiness in my chest I have to keep working towards finding a way in which to unleash my potential and give of my energy to those who will embrace it. Being one with my Creator and in synch with others around me is my aspiration. I want others to make me better than I am. And I want to do the same for them. I long for the day where I place my head on my pillow, my heart and mind are quiet, not because I have nothing else to give, but because what I've given has been received. Reciprocation and life giving energy circled and recycled.

   

Celebrating the Weekend

Celebrating the Weekend

Friday after school I wanted to celebrate the three day Labor Day weekend. I decided to go to the local United Dairy Farmer’s and get an ice cream cone. Although the UDF is less than a quarter mile from my home I rarely frequent it for ice cream because there’s usually a very long line.  But on this day I was hoping I’d hit the store at an off peak time and things would go smoothly.

My optimism proved true on one aspect, there was only one other customer in front of me. However, when I told the attendant what I wanted, one dip of strawberry ice cream in a waffle cone, she conferred with her colleague. And I overheard her say, “How do we do this?”

Just dip the ice cream into the cone. How hard is it? 

As the two apron wearing employees finished their conversation the lady turned to me with an ice cream scoop in one hand and a paper cup in the other. “We’ve changed our policies. We now have to weigh all the ice cream?”

So instead of a the actual treat I had intended, I walked out of the store with a slightly different version, a paper cup of ice cream with a waffle cone dropped on top. We don't always get exactly what we want, even when we know what we want.

Stuff

           Like most Americans I have a lot of stuff. Not that any of it is worth any monetary value.  But it’s just a bunch of well—stuff. It’s hard to categorize all the things I possess; lots of papers, versions of unpublished manuscripts, basketball drills, notes from clinics, magazines, school worksheets and diagrams, adaptors, cords of all sorts of old electronics, and even a blow up mattress that doesn’t really hold air anymore. All these things, I guess, I thought I’d hold onto and sell in a garage sale or I’d just file away another day, but that day never came and more stuff got piled on top of that stuff. I’m not like a total hoarder, but I have too many things that I don’t need.

            I have a two car garage that’s full and only one car. I also have a spare room, guest room or whatever you want to call it. (I don’t get too many overnight guests these days and I only have a twin bed in there so I guess it’s best to refer to it as the spare room.) You know what they say today’s as good as any day to start something you’ve been meaning to do. Actually I started last week, but I’m keeping my organization and purging project front and center and doing a little purging each week. I want to get rid of all these things that have no value or no emotional bearing on my life so I can make room for something else. I don’t know what I’m making room for, but I’m making room. Maybe it’s merely an overnight guest, maybe it’s a housemate, maybe it’s just sanity and peace of mind. Whatever it is I hope it finds its way to me soon because even though I don’t know exactly what’s coming down the pike . . . I know I’m getting ready for something and that’s kinda exciting in and of itself!

I'm Not Sitting on the Back Row Anymore (Figuratively Speaking)

            When I was in college many years ago all freshmen participants in the sports programs had to attend a seminar about the university’s expectations of student-athletes. I just remember several coaches from all the diverse sports, along with the athletic director, telling us to represent on campus and in the classroom. They mentioned that a few professors already thought every athlete was a dumb jock so we weren’t supposed to feed into that stereotype. The main points of the discussion were the importance of:

1)  communicating with the professor about when we were going to be gone  

      on road trips,
 

2) getting any assignments we’d be missing or to reschedule labs and/or exams promptly,

3) arriving to class early, and

4) the school officials emphasized sitting near the front of the room.

            Sitting in the front meant you cared. It communicated that you valued the class and the professor. Sitting in the front meant you were willing to participate. At least that’s what they told us. I was never a dumb jock and in most of my classes I don’t think I would’ve chosen to sit in the back(well okay maybe a few of the really boring classes) but that speech has always been in my head. And all these years later as a high school teacher myself, when students get to choose their seats in my class and certain students choose to sit in the back of the room the above statements run through my mind. But conversely, I also think about these things when I choose my own seats be it in meetings, in seminars, or in church.

I’ll be honest I don’t always sit in the front, in fact, there have been many times I’ve chosen to sit in the back row. Times that I needed to leave early. Or times I wasn’t feeling well. Or even times my friends wanted to sit in the back of a meeting. Those are all good reasons, right? But there are other reasons I’ve sat in the back— because I wasn’t interested, so I could make a quick get-a-way, because I didn’t want to be stuck. Well, this past Sunday I went to hear a dear friend sing at a church that I hadn’t been to in quite a while. She had told me before that she’d be near the front with other people. I didn’t really know her new friends and thought it might be awkward so instead of sitting up front I chose to sit in the back. The very back, by the door. A lone.

I thought about my seating choice during the service and decided that this might be an analogy . . . that I’ve been sitting on the back seat of my life way too long. In certain areas I’ve been passive, professionally and personally. Perhaps I’ve even become half-hearted in participating in my own existence. Maybe cynicism had kept me on the last row. Fear? Fear of being swept up by insincere people or caught up in something I have reservations concerning. In some ways it does seem safer in the back where no one will see you. Where you can limit your engagement and take in the environment, but not really partake.

I heard my friend sing a beautiful song and after the service I went up to find her and her new friends. I don’t want to live a passive life. I don’t want to just play it safe. I want to care about what’s going on and I want to engage with those around me. An introspective investigation of my own seating choice leads me now to these questions, where are you sitting? And most significant of all, why are you sitting there?

Digging Dirt

     I’ve began again the task of creating a paver patio. You see I started a few years ago by hand… digging down into the hard soil around the foundation of my house with my shovel. Needless to say after my separated shoulder started to remind me of my physical limitations, the realization that I had nowhere to put my discarded dirt, and no means to actually move the dirt off my property, I gave up. I thought maybe I’d completely abandon the project or pay a landscape company to fulfill my vision. Procrastination, indecision, and the busyness of life left a mound of dirt and growing weeds.

            A friend of mine tried to persuade me that I could still make the patio and even offered help. So much so that they delivered bags of paver base and bags of sand that has sat for two or three years along the sidelines. The materials from my friend were supposed to be a symbol of encouragement, but, wrongfully in my own mind, it became a reminder of an insurmountable mountain. Every time I saw the plastic bags I felt inferior and defeated. (Sorry friend. Thank you for the gesture.)

            I had an offer from my brother and other friends at separate times to help, and for reasons I won't go into now I didn't accept their invitations. One thing most people know about me is I don’t like to ask for help. One of many personal flaws I’m working on changing. Recently, another friend has offered once again to help and an opportunity to use rented equipment, borrowed trucks, and locations for dumping my dirt has brought me to a renewed place of action. The area of the planned patio has grown. Obstacles abound, among them:  creating a dry well for a drain, over a ton of crushed limestone needed, and masonry cuts for stone pavers. Just when I have begun to feel confident that one day I will see this patio completed I am frustrated by technical components that complicate the process.

            Why does this surprise me? Nothing in this life comes easy. And perhaps this is why I’m discouraged. At the moment I’m in the thick of things. I believe I’m working hard in all aspects of my life, personally and professionally, and although I see progress, the goals are not obtained. Maybe this is where I need to cut myself some slack. Or maybe this is where I need to work even harder. Or maybe this is where faith comes into play. But for now, at this very moment . . . I feel like I’ll always be simply digging dirt.

Year Round Friends

Yesterday my running/walking group met at my house for exercise, coffee, and conversation. There were eight of us that ran the gambit of age, religion, and life philosophies. They encourage me to wake up early during my summer vacation and run another mile.They are thoughtful to send gift cards and warm wishes to those who are struggling inside and outside our tribe. They are inviting to include my mom from time to time and my neighbor (who is now a solidified member to our weekly gatherings.) I am reminded of how important it is to have people in your life that give to you in meaningful ways. I am blessed. These ladies are my nine month colleagues in the trenches of public education and I’m proud to say—they are also my year round friends.

 

A Drive Down Memory Lane

            I had the privilege of doing something this week few 40 year olds have the privilege of doing. I was able to spend time with my last two living grandparents. My 90, soon to be 91 year old, grandfather from my paternal side and my 87 year old maternal grandmother. To be in the presence of these two individuals, at separate times, this week was overwhelming. My grandpa and grandma have seen me throughout every phase of my life and lived so much history of their own. They are— after all— members of the Greatest Generation. What they mean to me and my family is indescribable. And to have them with us —still— as they are entering their final years— is an immeasurable blessing.

            One of my aunt’s drove my grandfather from Southern Ohio to visit for the day. It had been at least seven years since my dad’s dad had been up to my parents’ home. My grandfather doesn’t like to leave his house for any length of time. He usually prefers his back porch with the fan blowing on him and his view of the creek bank. Although the view is dimming with the condition of his macular degeneration in his eyes, it is, as it always has been, the place that brings him comfort. I’m glad he was willing to exchange his environment for the day to share it with my family. I sat and listened for hours as my grandpa shared stories from a long time ago and provided his opinion of the direction the country seems to be is going. He shared advice that might help our President and Congress members get out of domestic and international troubles. He spoke about the war (in which he had an all too intimate account as a tank driver and purple heart recipient) and talked about his wife, my grandmother, whom we lost over 14 years ago. He described the frustrations of getting older. But believe it or not, for the amount of tough topics that were covered in conversation, most of the day was filled with smiles and laughter.

            On Thursday of this same week— I got to spend time with my mom’s mom. We went on a drive to find one of the many houses her and my grandfather had lived. (My grandfather passed away a year and a half ago.) The house we decided to visit was a small country drive away. When we turned on the former road my grandparents had lived, the houses looked different than I remembered. It appeared on a much smaller scale than it had existed in my mind. The plot of land they owned dwarfed by other homes on either side — their property used to be so vast. Once cows had pastured behind the fence row, but progress had long since replaced the pasture with a string of newer homes. My grandmother and I even turned around and passed by the old house again to make sure it was the right location. And before we returned to her current home we stopped at the ice cream store. Not the one we had stopped at decades before, it was closed in lieu of a newer, fancier structure just down the road. We did, however, eat an ice cream cone and in that moment we were transported back in time. In the car as we savored the summer treat the only reminder of the years that had passed was the fact I was the one in the driver’s seat. Grandma and I reminisced about time gone by. It was nostalgic on so many levels.  

            Like so many other families in the midst of navigating the rough waters of aging loved ones—we, as a family, face challenges as my grandparents’ health decreases. And as my grandparents’ health decreases, in turn, certain tasks increase for those family members that are providing care and transportation, but family takes care of their own. And as my grandparents have taken care of their children (my parents) and as they have chipped in when their grandchildren needed babysitting or a special favor, we are taking care of them. This week I am thankful for a generation I have been fortunate to know and I am reminded that time is our greatest gift we give to those we care.   

           

Great Expectations

Don’t worry we aren’t talking Charles Dickens today. We’re talking a regular human occurrence— getting our hopes up. I’m going to skip the negative side effect of when expectations don’t meet reality (because we’ve all experienced that occurrence and that’s not a fun post to write.) This post I’m focusing on the positive aspect. Today I’m talking VACATION! I read in a study that people are happier sometimes weeks and months before a trip because of the anticipation it yields. I believe it.

I’m getting excited for a little road trip outta state, across a handful of states, rather. I’m not sure what it is about trips that make me happy. Maybe it’s because as a kid my family wasn’t fortunate enough to take many vacations. Maybe it’s because I like adventure. Maybe it’s just the idea of getting away from it all for a few days that seems appealing. Or maybe it’s because our older neighbor growing up once gave me this piece of advice – “travel and see all you can when you’re young because when you’re older you don’t have the opportunities or the health.”  

Regardless of the reason I’m happy about a trip coming up. I’m happy. When I discovered an earlier planned trip this summer wasn’t going to work, I admit, I was bummed. But my friend (we’ll call her Awesome) came through. Awesome knows how much I like to travel and how rare my opportunities are. So she made it happen. I know Awesome wants to get away too. She’s a stay-at-home mom who has a supportive husband that encourages her to have an adventure every now and again and explore a different corner of the country. So it’s a mutual beneficial trip. We’ve traveled together before and we’re both very flexible and chill. And an added bonus is I do have a friend that lives in the vicinity of where we’re venturing. And although I do many things alone— and at this season in my life I’m okay with that— the one thing I don’t want to do is . . . travel alone.  

I want to be able to say a few years from now:  Remember when we saw . . .

or that one time when we were at . . .

It’s validating in some way to share a trip or a memory with someone. Oh, I’m sure that one of these days I will take a trip by myself, because my bucket list is too long and my friends who have flexible travel schedules are few. But for now— for my soon-to-be trip— I have great expectations for getting away and making memories to share. And don’t worry— I understand we might run into a traffic jam or the hotel may not be as advertised. Time stands still for no one and I want to follow my wise former neighbor’s advice. Thanks, Awesome and especially thank you, Mrs. Stewart!

A Perfect Summer Day

A morning run.

          Coffee with friends.
  
                         A long drive on back roads-
                                             windows down and music up.

A lunchtime yoga class.

                 Mowing the yard.

                                   Washing the car.

A popsicle on the porch swing.

             Phone call with family.

                         Hanging out with more friends at a local winery.

Definitely A Perfect Summer Day!

The Tank Can't Be Full All the Time

          As July 4^th quickly approaches I ask . . . where has the summer gone? And when are the local fireworks? And then this year, especially, when are the gas prices going to jump? I brace for the rising prices at the pump. I’ve got a few road trips to see family soon. I’ve been watching the increasing unrest in the Middle East and the holiday weekend. And, I admit, I’ve been trying to time my Kroger Fuel Points. Bending an ear to the local and national news. Perking up every time I hear something about crude oil or an increase in federal taxes on fuel. I’ve even been making mental notes and comparing the gas station postings in neighboring towns making sure I get a full tank before the spike. A tad obsessive, I agree.

            But is there any doubt the price of gas will go up? Do you remember when gas was under $2? It wasn’t that long ago. I speculate it’ll rise quite a bit and very soon. I’ve been trying to keep my gas tank full in my mid-size SUV- that by the way- gets terrible gas mileage. (I know I should have a smaller vehicle, but driving what I have does make me feel safer. No tiny smart car for me.) What I’ve learned lately is that keeping a full tank, or trying to anyway, will drive you crazy. Sometimes my gas gauge reads half-full and obviously sometimes it reads near empty.

            Today, my gas tank is on the negative side of half-way. Literally and figuratively. Sometimes you have to give yourself permission for things not to be perfect. In my case, I need to be okay with the fact my tank isn’t completely full. I know my vehicle won’t run out of gas. I’ll get fuel some way, somehow and I’ll fill up before I need to. And I know that my energy level and happiness will bounce back as well. Don’t get me wrong— I think you need to keep an eye on that measuring apparatus, but don’t over analyze if it isn’t all the way full. You’ll fill up before you reach empty. (Even if you have to pay a few more cents.) And the same is true for life— you’ll bounce back before you hit bottom. So the take away— be aware, but not obsessive. The Tank Can’t Be Full All the Time.

  But may your tank be more full than not . . . at least most of the time:)

Routine Maintenance

I sat yesterday in an automotive waiting room. My vehicle, of course, was getting serviced. I drug along everything but the kitchen sink to try to keep myself occupied. I knew I was in for a wait. Two books, notebook paper, and, of course, my ear buds with my iPhone, fully charged and loaded with my favorite podcasts and music playlist. I was pleasantly surprised when it took just shy of an hour to perform an oil change and place a set of brand new tires on my vehicle.

            Ever since my time in that tiny waiting room I’ve been overwhelmed by my list of routine maintenance. Between myself (scheduling doctors & dentist check-ups, a haircut,and so on), my house, my lawn, and a rental I co-own-- my never ending list seems, well, never ending. When I get a few things crossed off, there seems to be more tasks that make their way back on my list. So I guess I figured it out, life is a cycle of routine maintenance. I’ve decided there’s only one of two ways to handle this:

 1) Enjoy the tasks—

or –

2) Simplify life.

I’m actually trying to do a little of both:), but first I have to go check something off my list.  Happy first day of Summer!

Consider The Power Source

           Edging. The yard maintenance task I least enjoy. Perhaps because I never grew up with sidewalks. When the grass was mowed on a 2 acre piece of property it required mostly riding a tractor and a little trimming with the push mower. Sidewalks and the suburbs involve an edger and definitely a weed wacker. Having the right equipment can make all the difference on a yard or any chore, for that matter.

But today happened to be the day I decided to edge. I have an electric powered edger. Therefore, I also have a fifty yard heavy duty extension chord. The sun was shining, a gentle breeze was blowing . . . it was the perfect summer day to be doing outside work. I connected the power chord into the outside outlet near my front door. My sidewalk leads out to my driveway. I maneuvered through those areas with ease, rolling the plastic tires as the blade dug into the earth. Then I edged the north side of my sidewalk I realized my extension chord was tangled so I stopped and untangled it and continued. I pushed closer to my property line and then the yellow snake pulled tight. I realized it was caught on a bush so I stopped again and moved the chord to give me more length. When I hit my property line I decided I should be a good neighbor and edge the 7 more feet of my neighbor’s sidewalk. And I did. All of it but maybe 8 inches. I tugged and pulled my chord, but I was at the end. There was simply no more slack. This time there were no bushes, no tangles inhibiting my reach. I couldn’t manipulate any more chord. So slightly defeated— I started back the other way leaving the eight inch gap of untouched grass creeping over the concrete.

Edging the rest of my sidewalk, my mind kept drifting to that 8 inches. If only my weed wacker wasn’t on the brink I’d go back and finish that little bit that I couldn’t reach. Or if I had a motor power edger I could’ve gotten it done. Or a longer extension chord. I started thinking about all the things in my life that haven’t seemed to go as planned and how many tasks that haven’t seemed to go as I’d like. Maybe I needed to just let it go. Let go of all those hang ups. Be more content and less ambitious. Be satisfied.

            When I reached the other end of my property I started pushing my edger towards my house. The garage door was open and on the exterior wall half-way back behind a large trash can was an electrical outlet I rarely used and even forgot existed. Problem solved. I didn’t need better, more expensive equipment to get the job done. I just needed to change my power source.  

             Not everyone calls their higher power God, but many people do have a higher power they acknowledge. I happen to believe in God. And I have a relationship with Him, but unfortunately like many relationships (because we’re human and do take others for granted during periods of our lives), sometimes I neglect God, or take God for granted. On occasion I find myself relying solely on myself. Trying to muster all the power I have to do the tasks I feel necessary in my life. Often, I get to the end of “my chord” and think I’m not adequate. I’m not good enough to do this or that. If only I was equipped with more of that trait or this trait I could have exactly what I want and be accomplished. Who would’ve thought this afternoon edging my sidewalks God would’ve sent me a message. “When you’re at the end of your chord, simply . . . Consider The Power Source.”



 

Unfinished Business

In anyone’s life I’m assuming there’s unfinished business. I’ve always been inclined to think it sad that someone may be dying and have a bucket list unfulfilled, letters unsent, or words unsaid to loved ones or friends— that was my thinking until last night. I had an epitome of sorts I’ll call it . . . a single thought where I found wisdom in the midst of an introspective moment.

I have lots of unfinished business— I have a first novel that will, more than likely, not see the light of day for revisions. I have a half-knitted scarf that sits in a basket in my family room by my fireplace. A cross-stitch folded up in my closet. Several sketches of portraits, but one in particular, that I’ve grown frustrated with by my lack of ability to truly capture the essence of a person. I have letters that are unsent and words I have not spoken. Having creations and sentiments unfinished to some may sound like I’ve quit or thrown in the towel. Ah, but that’s where seeing things through a different perspective comes in . . . the unfinished products have been a vehicle for a duration. An investment of time and energy, yes, but they have served their purpose and was what I needed to do at that moment in my life. I need to give myself permission to let go and move on the next novel or the next project.

It appears that every time I convince myself that I need to finish something that deep down I know should be unfinished, I regret it. I muddle through a project just to say it’s done or like yesterday, for example, I tried to say something to someone because I felt like it needed to be said. I tried to explain how I felt about a situation and it came out all wrong. I can’t go back and reword it. I can wish I hadn’t said it, but now it’s said. I’m at the mercy of time to help repair the frankness that might have been too much at the wrong time. A dear friend of mine sarcastically joked with me and asked, “Is everything that happens in your life a lesson?” I do believe it’s healthy to think along these lines, but I’m also not naïve to believe that everything is a lesson. If you really think the something is off in a project and it is unrepairable, or if something you want to say may be taken the wrong way, it’s okay to leave some things unfinished. I wish I would’ve taken my own advice yesterday and I’m taking it now as I put away that sketch. There is such a thing as unfinished business and its okay to leave it exactly where it is.  

 

My Corridor

  

       Everyday I get to go to work I drive through a two mile corridor of a pure country road. I love it! Since the school year has ended I haven't quite taken my daily route as much, but today I was reminded of how surreal that stretch of road truly is.
     The last few months of my journey to school the radio remained off. Those mornings I took in the sites with quiet contemplation. There have been many moments that have taken my breath away throughout the years I've traveled the narrow asphalt. I want to share a couple that transpired recently. One morning there was a shroud of fog that blanketed the area and the light from the sunrise reflected off the vapor. Magnificent. (The picture doesn't do the scene justice, but maybe you can still get an idea of the ambiance.)  And last week when I saw movement across the field and realized it was a lone baby raccoon scampering into the tree line . . . that was another moment that soothed my soul.
     I'm not a 100% country girl, but I do love nature and the serenity it whispers softly to me in the early morning hours. Those whispers remind me of the beauty that surrounds me. Trust you can find your own corridor and you get to hear nature's whispers soon. If you want to share photos of your happy place(s) feel free.

Bolonga

Do people really eat bologna anymore? I mean, I remember as a kid, Mom buying Oscar Mayer Bologna and putting it in lunches for my dad and brother. I was always a peanut butter sandwich person myself.

The nutrition of processed meat aside. . . I do not like the texture or the taste. But this evening I consumed it for my grandmother. I wanted her to eat. And you see at 87-she doesn't  like to eat alone. I don't blame her on that part, but next time I hope we have something else. The sacrifices we make for the ones we love. :) I guess Bolonga is a small sacrifice in the big scheme of life. But, yes, next time grandma, please, something else besides proceeded meat. 

Full of Possibilities

This morning I went to school and unlocked my classroom door to literally thousands of balloons. A senior prank of sorts that wasn't destructive or rude in anyway. The balloons were all shapes and sizes. A colorful assortment of simple happiness.

I admit the first thing I did was take a picture of the room with my iPhone. I wanted to capture the moment when none of the balloons were disturbed or popped. I wanted to share the site with others. It had obviously been a painstaking task for a group to place so many balloons in this space. I grinned ear to ear as I thought of who the culprits might've been. (There were a long list of suspects:) As my classes came and went each of my upperclassmen had an emotional reaction- some more than others- but a smile or a laugh or a gleam in their eye. Some students tossed the balloons in the air. Some tried to hit their unexpecting friends. Still others tried to make their mark on the exterior of the latex with a sharpie. But they all played. They all remembered for a moment what it was like to be a child... and they just played.

It was the last official day for seniors and as I said good bye to these young people a few circled back around near the end of the day to say their own farewell. With tears in their eyes and heavy hearts I felt their sadness as they were leaving behind what they've known their whole short lives, but for someone that has seen a few classes graduate, I also felt the optimism they couldn't quite grasp yet. As these seniors walk to the light of graduation their lives are so full of possibilities and opportunities. So many wonderful things these individuals will experience. As the balloons in my classroom lie still prior to 1st peirod's bell waiting for their audience . . . so too does life wait for its participants. Go on, get moving, get out there and play!