Rachelle D. Alspaugh's Blog, page 24
April 19, 2020
What I'm not missing
So. The school building is officially closed for the remainder of the school year. We won't have any sense of closure to the year. No goodbye hugs. No big awards ceremony to recognize each child in front of their parents. No class party. No cleaning out the room together to give them all the extra supplies we didn't end up using. No autograph books that we do on the last day to leave notes of encouragement with each child. No field trip or field trip memories. I could go on and on about all that's lost.
But you know me. There's so much to be gained, and I'm constantly reminding myself of that when this distance learning gig gets tough (and it does get hard some days). It's draining to contact parents over and over to get their child connected, to explain what they need to do, and still have little to no response. It's disheartening to spend so much time planning only to have participation drop a little bit more each week, as the district raises the expectation. It's tiring being online or on my phone all day, knowing that you need to reach out to friends and family in the evenings, but you've got parents and students needing your attention and guidance then, too. I'm truly working till 9 or 10 pm every night.
Lots of good stuff is happening, but the reality is, I really miss my kids, and it breaks my heart to wake up to videos from them first thing in the morning saying, "Ok, Mrs. Alspaugh, I miss you." Teaching online is teaching them great things and great skills that they wouldn't be learning otherwise. It's making them learn to organize themselves, to work more closely with their parents, and to be creative with technology. They're gaining confidence to video their work and explain their thinking and learning. They're problem solving their way through this just like we are. It's forcing teachers like me who were reluctant to use technology more efficiently in the classroom to realize all the potential behind it. But there's still a huge void without the daily hugs, pats on the back, simple smiles, and social interaction. I really miss those sweet little faces.
But while I'm desperately missing the physical proximity of my students, I'm NOT missing the physical proximity of my son. We went from begging him to take two days off of work during spring break to spend time as a family, thinking it was our last break together before college. I mean, summer was already packed. Graduation and graduation celebrations. Two weeks of camp (one as a leader, one as a camper). Two weeks in South Africa. Perhaps another week serving in the Rio Grande Valley. Plus working nearly full-time at Chick Fil-A and attending freshman orientation at DBU. Whew. And now here we are at home together, day after day, week after week, with most everything already canceled (or at least still up in the air) this summer, too.
We've been playing cards, playing Wii Sports, playing video games, watching movies and whole seasons of TV shows, cooking, baking, taking long walks, riding bike for miles on end, and sleeping late every day. There's nothing like riding bikes together and hearing your 18 year old say, "Remember when we....." as we turn a corner down a street we used to ride together when he was younger. And just the other day, I mentioned a senior photo shoot at a place we rode by on our bikes, and he quickly agreed. Every moment I spend with this kid, I'm eternally grateful because this time is truly a gift that I thought had already expired.
Someone started a Facebook Group called Adopt a Senior, and each Senior got to be adopted twice. Here are some sweet goodies that have arrived at our doorstep to celebrate our quarantined senior as a result of this new movement. (We adopted a random stranger, too--another Senior from another school that's headed to DBU, as well.)
Now that it's official we're not going back, we now await news on graduation, which is technically only a month and two days away. Yes, we're missing so much these days, but look at all we're NOT missing. Moments that would not have existed if things were "normal".
So, I apologize for not reaching out to a lot of friends and family. It's not that I'm not thinking about you and missing you. Parts of this job literally drain me (constant phone calls and texts, slow computers, learning new things and apps every day, zoom meetings, Google Hangouts--which can be fun and good, but are extremely draining to this introvert, etc.), and in the off-moments (the odd moments that I'm not working), I'm either reading for pleasure--because I finally can, writing for pleasure--because it's quiet, or embracing every moment of true quality time I've been gifted with this boy.
But you know me. There's so much to be gained, and I'm constantly reminding myself of that when this distance learning gig gets tough (and it does get hard some days). It's draining to contact parents over and over to get their child connected, to explain what they need to do, and still have little to no response. It's disheartening to spend so much time planning only to have participation drop a little bit more each week, as the district raises the expectation. It's tiring being online or on my phone all day, knowing that you need to reach out to friends and family in the evenings, but you've got parents and students needing your attention and guidance then, too. I'm truly working till 9 or 10 pm every night.
Lots of good stuff is happening, but the reality is, I really miss my kids, and it breaks my heart to wake up to videos from them first thing in the morning saying, "Ok, Mrs. Alspaugh, I miss you." Teaching online is teaching them great things and great skills that they wouldn't be learning otherwise. It's making them learn to organize themselves, to work more closely with their parents, and to be creative with technology. They're gaining confidence to video their work and explain their thinking and learning. They're problem solving their way through this just like we are. It's forcing teachers like me who were reluctant to use technology more efficiently in the classroom to realize all the potential behind it. But there's still a huge void without the daily hugs, pats on the back, simple smiles, and social interaction. I really miss those sweet little faces.
But while I'm desperately missing the physical proximity of my students, I'm NOT missing the physical proximity of my son. We went from begging him to take two days off of work during spring break to spend time as a family, thinking it was our last break together before college. I mean, summer was already packed. Graduation and graduation celebrations. Two weeks of camp (one as a leader, one as a camper). Two weeks in South Africa. Perhaps another week serving in the Rio Grande Valley. Plus working nearly full-time at Chick Fil-A and attending freshman orientation at DBU. Whew. And now here we are at home together, day after day, week after week, with most everything already canceled (or at least still up in the air) this summer, too.
We've been playing cards, playing Wii Sports, playing video games, watching movies and whole seasons of TV shows, cooking, baking, taking long walks, riding bike for miles on end, and sleeping late every day. There's nothing like riding bikes together and hearing your 18 year old say, "Remember when we....." as we turn a corner down a street we used to ride together when he was younger. And just the other day, I mentioned a senior photo shoot at a place we rode by on our bikes, and he quickly agreed. Every moment I spend with this kid, I'm eternally grateful because this time is truly a gift that I thought had already expired.
Someone started a Facebook Group called Adopt a Senior, and each Senior got to be adopted twice. Here are some sweet goodies that have arrived at our doorstep to celebrate our quarantined senior as a result of this new movement. (We adopted a random stranger, too--another Senior from another school that's headed to DBU, as well.)
Now that it's official we're not going back, we now await news on graduation, which is technically only a month and two days away. Yes, we're missing so much these days, but look at all we're NOT missing. Moments that would not have existed if things were "normal".
So, I apologize for not reaching out to a lot of friends and family. It's not that I'm not thinking about you and missing you. Parts of this job literally drain me (constant phone calls and texts, slow computers, learning new things and apps every day, zoom meetings, Google Hangouts--which can be fun and good, but are extremely draining to this introvert, etc.), and in the off-moments (the odd moments that I'm not working), I'm either reading for pleasure--because I finally can, writing for pleasure--because it's quiet, or embracing every moment of true quality time I've been gifted with this boy.
April 15, 2020
Another poem from my heart today
To the 2020 Class(© Rachelle D. Alspaugh
04/15/2020)
Dear 2020 SeniorYou weigh so heavy on our mindEnding high school without closureJust feels a bit unkind.
So much anticipatedSenior trips, awards, and promMaking memories with friends,Not stuck in quarantine with Mom.
You came into this worldWhile we looked back in disbeliefAfter the events of 9/11Left us with unimaginable grief.
Left to wonder what kind of futureAwaited you, dear child.How scary now to raise you hereWith so much innocence defiled.
Yet your world did not includeAny pre-9/11 daysGod chose you for this timeAnd prepared you for this phase.
You’re strong and you’re resilientThese losses will not set you back.Instead they’ll only strengthen youAnd make this class a mighty pack.
Mighty to face yet anotherFuture world we could not seeMighty to change her for good,To face challenge so valiantly.
God has purpose for your classAnd now that you are grownWith that confidence we can launch youInto what seems a twilight zone.
Dear 2020 SeniorEmbrace the time at handKnow that this season of loss
Is still part of a bigger plan.
<a rel="license" href="http://fromtheheartofrachelled.blogsp...http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/"><img alt="Creative Commons License" style="border-width:0" src="http://fromtheheartofrachelled.blogsp...https://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc-nd/4.0/88x31.png" /></a><br />This work is licensed under a <a rel="license" href="http://fromtheheartofrachelled.blogsp...http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/">Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>
04/15/2020)
Dear 2020 SeniorYou weigh so heavy on our mindEnding high school without closureJust feels a bit unkind.
So much anticipatedSenior trips, awards, and promMaking memories with friends,Not stuck in quarantine with Mom.
You came into this worldWhile we looked back in disbeliefAfter the events of 9/11Left us with unimaginable grief.
Left to wonder what kind of futureAwaited you, dear child.How scary now to raise you hereWith so much innocence defiled.
Yet your world did not includeAny pre-9/11 daysGod chose you for this timeAnd prepared you for this phase.
You’re strong and you’re resilientThese losses will not set you back.Instead they’ll only strengthen youAnd make this class a mighty pack.
Mighty to face yet anotherFuture world we could not seeMighty to change her for good,To face challenge so valiantly.
God has purpose for your classAnd now that you are grownWith that confidence we can launch youInto what seems a twilight zone.
Dear 2020 SeniorEmbrace the time at handKnow that this season of loss
Is still part of a bigger plan.
<a rel="license" href="http://fromtheheartofrachelled.blogsp...http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/"><img alt="Creative Commons License" style="border-width:0" src="http://fromtheheartofrachelled.blogsp...https://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc-nd/4.0/88x31.png" /></a><br />This work is licensed under a <a rel="license" href="http://fromtheheartofrachelled.blogsp...http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/">Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>
April 10, 2020
I sent the nations to YOU
This post has swirled about in my head since early November of 2019, the day I took this picture from a missions newsletter that came in the mail. The subtitle caught me and spoke clearly to my heart. I knew that voice well.
God had settled this issue in my heart before, but events of the last year had left me grappling with doubt once again that perhaps I'd missed it. Missed my calling, my purpose. To go into the nations. And then I heard that confirming voice again when I read that sentence. The United States has more immigrants than any other country in the world.
I brought the nations to YOU.
I heard Him say it clearly that day in early November, and I've heard Him whisper it in my ear nearly every day I got out of my car and walked across the playground toward my classroom.
My students flashed across my mind the moment I first heard it, along with all my teammates and coworkers from all over the world. I thought of all the parent conferences I've had with moms, dads, aunts, uncles, and grandparents from Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, Colombia, and even Argentina. I thought of my teammates and coworkers, and fellow soccer moms and dads from the same countries as well as Venezuela, Puerto Rico, Bolivia, Nicaragua, and the Dominican Republic.
I thought of my friends from my Life Group and Bible studies from Ecuador, Chile, and Mexico, and then I remembered my own son from Colombia, along with his sister's family from Spain and France.
God took me to Buenos Aires, Argentina as a young 20-year-old to equip me to later distantly mentor a Colombian "son" who now lives and works in the same big city where I studied. I spent a summer interning as a summer missionary in Tasquillo, Hidalgo in Mexico, and now I teach a little girl whose parents grew up in that tiny, little town where she, too, visits in the summers. I went on a mission trip to Piedras Negras, Mexico, and now I have a beautiful friend I call my little sister who lives there, plus one of my current student's families is from there, too. God allowed me to work and minister for a week in Guatemala two years ago, and now three little Guatemalan students have looked to me as one of their first teachers here in the United States.
I may teach in a public school where my faith is technically banned due to separation of church and state, but that doesn't mean I can't/don't live it out in front of them every day. It doesn't mean I don't minister to them wth Jesus' love and compassion, letting God use me to mold their character. I still influence them and model a life surrendered to Jesus, and every once in a while their families catch on.
My teammates and coworkers know exactly who I am and who I live my life for. God gives me countless opportunities each year to minister to them through prayer, encouragement, and small acts of service. They describe me as having a sense of peace surrounding me, and some have even commented that I seem to have a direct connection to God through prayer. My social media makes it clear I am a Christian, and many people have told me how my books and my blog posts have helped them want to draw closer to God.
I've joined, led, and taught women's Bible studies at my church, leading hundreds of women find a closer intimacy with God over the years. I've spoken and told my story to women who aren't even a part of my church.
I've lived through broken marriage and let God use my struggles to help others in those shoes. I've experienced loss through both miscarriage and a failed adoption, and now I can give hope to others grieving the same types of loss.
Now I sit here on my front porch, while the entire world waits in quarantine through a global pandemic, and I record daily video messages to check in with my students. My daily video literally takes me into each and every student's home to tell them I love them and care about them. I pick up my phone to conference and guide parents from at least five different countries, giving them a sense of stability and comfort during a critical time in history.
Today, on my 21st wedding anniversary, I look back at that 21-year-old girl, full of dreams and plans to "follow the call" into a life of full-time missions--assuming that meant overseas or at least past the borders of my own country.
She had a degree in ministry with a focus on education and cross-cultural communication. She was equipped with the language and the cross-cultural experience after studying abroad in Argentina and interning with missionaries in Mexico. She'd researched and chosen a mission board with her new husband and had a five year plan to get onto the field as a couple.
Satan did all he could to derail every bit of that plan, to destroy our marriage, to pull out all of our financial means, to disarm us physically, emotionally, and spiritually, to make sure we didn't follow that call. By the end of those five years, we'd already been through battle with him and felt like we'd lost. But what Satan means for evil, God meant for so much good. He allowed us to fall apart, multiple times over multiple phases. God allowed all of it to keep us from following that plan and going abroad.
Instead of sending us to live and serve in Mexico, Central and South America, or even Europe, he sent us to Texas. And rather than sending us to the nations, He brought the nations to us.
To me.
In my classroom. In my Bible studies. In my Life Group. In my own family.
Via social media. Via my blog and my books. Via my church.Via adoption. And even now, especially now, via daily videos from my virtual classroom and digital conversations, while the whole world sits in quarantine.
I'll admit the thought crossed my mind many times over the years that perhaps I missed it. Perhaps I missed that "calling" to the mission field, until God convinced that nothing can thwart his plan for me. Nothing. In actuality, he prevented me/us from going to one nation and instead sent me briefly to several nations, equipping me, in order to bring the nations straight to me.
Within any given week I usually converse at least once with people in Argentina, Colombia, Mexico, and Spain, while daily influencing whole families from at least five Central American countries. And right now, through technology, I get to go into each and every home and allow God to shine His love through me. I don't take that responsibility lightly. It's a daily reminder that I'm living out exactly who God called me to be.
Interestingly, God used a current letter from the very mission organization I'd "chosen" so long ago to speak to me today. Our calling is to follow God daily, wherever and whenever He leads, even if it's "just" to Texas.
April 5, 2020
Look for the blessings
So, I'm switching from the senior-mom-hat back to the teacher-hat and writing from the teacher heart today.
That wasn't my intention when I sat down to write a poem, but as the words came tumbling out, that's the direction they led. I fell in love with poetry and specifically with rhyme back when I was about ten years old, and I've never tired of it since. When my world gets quiet and thoughts stir in my head about something, those thoughts don't tend to fall together until they spill out in rhyme.
I can't stop thinking about just how full February felt and how it utterly exhausted me by the end of the month. I tried to add some extra personal things to my schedule, forgetting what a bear the month can be at school, but it all truly wiped me out. I couldn't wait for a week off to just relax and reconnect with my family before getting back in the race to finish the school year strong.
Gettiing through all those parent conferences was incredibly taxing, but I'm so glad for that recent strong connection with parents because I had no idea how much I'd need them to stand behind me and trust me for the rest of the school year.
I'm so glad I went on that writer's retreat, as stressful as it was to fit in, because it reminded me how much I miss when I don't take the time to write. It drew my heart back in to the one thing I enjoy more than anything, the one gift I have to give others when the world grows quiet and I grow quieter still.
I'm so glad I spent time with my mom that last weekend in February, then a day with my parents for lunch, coffee, and shopping, and then once more for tea with my mom during spring break because I had no idea it would be the last time we could physically get together for quite awhile.
I'm so glad I scratched my plans that last Friday and gave my kids a chance to shop in our class store so they walked away with a happy memory of what might have been their last day in my class. I'm so glad I sent home their Reading book we just finished, and all their old pencils, promising new ones upon return. I'm so glad I found a birthday card on the back of a Little Debbie treat box and gave it to my student whose birthday was the day AFTER spring break, a day I assumed I would see him, just to make him feel special. Little promptings I'm so glad I followed through on.
More than anything, I'm so glad I've been teaching my students since they were four years old that they are in charge of their own learning, and that learning happens everywhere, all the time, and it feels good every time we learn something new. I'm so glad I encouraged them to be creative rather than following a rigid rule of how their work needed to look.
I miss them, but I'm so encouraged by what they've shown me so far. Of course, I have students I need to call and beg for work--just like at school. But for the most part, that's not the case. On the contrary, these kids have an incredible opportunity to learn differently, at their own pace. How much they want to learn is completely up to them. I'm not convinced that's a bad thing right now.
Behind the Current Crisis
February felt so fullMy calendar was packedActivity filled each dayMargin severely lacked.
First one weekend filled upThen a second one claimed time, too.When the last weekend plan came,I reluctantly pushed through.
Extra meetings filled the weekdaysWith parent conferences and SST’s,Added student challenges, And testing that wouldn’t cease.
Spring break Friday finally cameThat first weekend in March.My body thirsted for restAs so much frenzy left me parched.
Class had to be fun againMy kids needed a rewardAll the endless testingHad left them tired and bored.
We set up a class storeAnd spread all the goodies outThey spent all their plastic coinsAnd learned what money’s all about.
I sent home extra booksOld pencils and suppliesThe expectation to keep learningCame to them as no surprise.
My job as their teacherIs to equip and to inspireSo they can guide themselvesTo always learn and never tire.
To engage with a new bookAnd get lost in it for hoursWhether it be about real lifeOr a kid with superpowers.
To practice making problemsAnd add big numbers upTo practice math in the kitchenand use a measuring cup.
To find new things to learnTo problem solve all dayTo create something new and funAnd make connections while they play.
That Friday when we said goodbyeWith their backpacks extra fullWe never could have imaginedWe might not come back to school.
Now I’m left to guide themThrough a video and a screen.They’re the ones in charge nowAs we do school in quarantine.
They’ve stepped up to the challengeSending pics of their notebooks, Videos explaining their learningCute photos of their reading nooks.
Their creativity blossomsPride in their presentation has improvedThe work is suddenly organizedAnd their sweet comments leave me moved.
Though I set out to inspireThey now daily inspire meWith the joy they find in learningAnd their boundless creativity.
My body now feels restedAs all the rush has ceased.I grade papers from my phoneMy digital knowledge has increased.
I get snuggles from my kitty nowIn place of my students’ daily hugs.I drink my morning coffeeFrom my huge supply of teacher mugs.
I am still their teacherBut truly they are teaching me.That learning looks so differentWhen mixed with creativity.
They’re working at their own paceIn their chosen cozy spot.They choose different modes of presentationThan perhaps the one I sought.
They’re directing their own learningAnd finding ways to organizePerhaps behind this current crisisLies a blessing in disguise.
That wasn't my intention when I sat down to write a poem, but as the words came tumbling out, that's the direction they led. I fell in love with poetry and specifically with rhyme back when I was about ten years old, and I've never tired of it since. When my world gets quiet and thoughts stir in my head about something, those thoughts don't tend to fall together until they spill out in rhyme.
I can't stop thinking about just how full February felt and how it utterly exhausted me by the end of the month. I tried to add some extra personal things to my schedule, forgetting what a bear the month can be at school, but it all truly wiped me out. I couldn't wait for a week off to just relax and reconnect with my family before getting back in the race to finish the school year strong.
Gettiing through all those parent conferences was incredibly taxing, but I'm so glad for that recent strong connection with parents because I had no idea how much I'd need them to stand behind me and trust me for the rest of the school year.
I'm so glad I went on that writer's retreat, as stressful as it was to fit in, because it reminded me how much I miss when I don't take the time to write. It drew my heart back in to the one thing I enjoy more than anything, the one gift I have to give others when the world grows quiet and I grow quieter still.
I'm so glad I spent time with my mom that last weekend in February, then a day with my parents for lunch, coffee, and shopping, and then once more for tea with my mom during spring break because I had no idea it would be the last time we could physically get together for quite awhile.
I'm so glad I scratched my plans that last Friday and gave my kids a chance to shop in our class store so they walked away with a happy memory of what might have been their last day in my class. I'm so glad I sent home their Reading book we just finished, and all their old pencils, promising new ones upon return. I'm so glad I found a birthday card on the back of a Little Debbie treat box and gave it to my student whose birthday was the day AFTER spring break, a day I assumed I would see him, just to make him feel special. Little promptings I'm so glad I followed through on.
More than anything, I'm so glad I've been teaching my students since they were four years old that they are in charge of their own learning, and that learning happens everywhere, all the time, and it feels good every time we learn something new. I'm so glad I encouraged them to be creative rather than following a rigid rule of how their work needed to look.
I miss them, but I'm so encouraged by what they've shown me so far. Of course, I have students I need to call and beg for work--just like at school. But for the most part, that's not the case. On the contrary, these kids have an incredible opportunity to learn differently, at their own pace. How much they want to learn is completely up to them. I'm not convinced that's a bad thing right now.
Behind the Current Crisis
February felt so fullMy calendar was packedActivity filled each dayMargin severely lacked.
First one weekend filled upThen a second one claimed time, too.When the last weekend plan came,I reluctantly pushed through.
Extra meetings filled the weekdaysWith parent conferences and SST’s,Added student challenges, And testing that wouldn’t cease.
Spring break Friday finally cameThat first weekend in March.My body thirsted for restAs so much frenzy left me parched.
Class had to be fun againMy kids needed a rewardAll the endless testingHad left them tired and bored.
We set up a class storeAnd spread all the goodies outThey spent all their plastic coinsAnd learned what money’s all about.
I sent home extra booksOld pencils and suppliesThe expectation to keep learningCame to them as no surprise.
My job as their teacherIs to equip and to inspireSo they can guide themselvesTo always learn and never tire.
To engage with a new bookAnd get lost in it for hoursWhether it be about real lifeOr a kid with superpowers.
To practice making problemsAnd add big numbers upTo practice math in the kitchenand use a measuring cup.
To find new things to learnTo problem solve all dayTo create something new and funAnd make connections while they play.
That Friday when we said goodbyeWith their backpacks extra fullWe never could have imaginedWe might not come back to school.
Now I’m left to guide themThrough a video and a screen.They’re the ones in charge nowAs we do school in quarantine.
They’ve stepped up to the challengeSending pics of their notebooks, Videos explaining their learningCute photos of their reading nooks.
Their creativity blossomsPride in their presentation has improvedThe work is suddenly organizedAnd their sweet comments leave me moved.
Though I set out to inspireThey now daily inspire meWith the joy they find in learningAnd their boundless creativity.
My body now feels restedAs all the rush has ceased.I grade papers from my phoneMy digital knowledge has increased.
I get snuggles from my kitty nowIn place of my students’ daily hugs.I drink my morning coffeeFrom my huge supply of teacher mugs.
I am still their teacherBut truly they are teaching me.That learning looks so differentWhen mixed with creativity.
They’re working at their own paceIn their chosen cozy spot.They choose different modes of presentationThan perhaps the one I sought.
They’re directing their own learningAnd finding ways to organizePerhaps behind this current crisisLies a blessing in disguise.
April 3, 2020
Missed expectations
Today hit a bit harder than most. Played with my emotions a little bit more, tugged on my heart strings a bit stronger.
Earlier this week, they closed schools indefinitely till May, leaving just about two or three weeks till graduation--if we even go back at all. Yet we all have pretty much accepted the latter, that we likely won't go back. Graduation is the question on everyone's mind--how does this affect our seniors? I will admit, I've been quite anxious to know what kind of plan they've even been able to come up with, considering the magnitude and uncertainty of the situation at hand. David's hope was for a drive-thru graduation so he can proudly drive the truck/rock crawler that he and his dad built together. Lol.
Well, Dallas County extended our Shelter-in-Place order this morning, and then the district almost immediately followed suit and officially closed schools (physical schooling) through the end of the year. No final days on campus with our students to close the year. No Senior field trips, prom, special days, etc. We finish the year with at-home/e-learning, and that's it. The official graduation ceremony now has an alternative date set for mid-June (almost an entire month after the original date), and then another alternative date set for early July if June isn't possible. Then later in the day, we got word that there'd been a mistake, and they switched things back to schools being closed indefinitely at least until May 4th, and that they'd reassess the situation then. But now we at least have alternative graduation dates set up, just in case. Truthfully, I still don't see us going back.
I sat restless the rest of the day after getting the news about graduation. Suddenly the teacher side of this didn't matter to me. The parent side wanted to cry. This is truly the craziest year ever. I'm thankful my son isn't too attached to high school and had already begun to pull away earlier this year, dropping down to only three main classes so he could work more hours for the work-release program. He's really not that emotional about any of it, but I'm sure it still stings. I'm probably much more emotional about it all than he is. I mean, as a parent, you dream of (and dread) your child's high school graduation from the day they enter kindergarten. You never expect a global pandemic to mess with it!
On top of a graduation date now pending, his trip to Africa is likely (not officially) up in the air for now, as well. Who knows if it will be safe to travel even by July. All I know is that God has already provided almost 70% of his funding, so He's obviously prepared to send him somewhere, whether it's Africa this year or next, or somewhere else at a later time.
I find peace in the fact that he spent New Year's in Atlanta at the Passion Conference, literally praising God in song with 62,000 young adults as the clock struck midnight and 2020 began. In fact, we watched it all LIVE on our own television. It was incredible.Yes, God was preparing my son's heart for such an unpredictable year ahead, filled with many disappointments and loss over things we didn't ever think could be tampered with.
The other day someone wrote about how their word for the year was PRAY, and they realized how fitting that was in the midst of these circumstances. I couldn't remember what my word was for this year, so I went back and checked.
RELEASE.
Wow. I see it in a whole new light now.
Here's another poem that God laid on my heart today.
Release
I asked God for a wordTo guide me through this year.“Open up your grip,” He said,“And release that child you hold so dear.”
Release his future to MeSurrender every fear and what ifRelease your need for controlAccept when expectations start to shift.
2020 turned the cornerAnd filled my eyes with tears.As you celebrated in AtlantaIn worship with 62,000 peers.
A powerful way to beginA year with so much change ahead.Graduation, Africa, and collegeWere where my thoughts all led.
Expectations indeed quickly shiftedWith those milestones now hanging in midair,Never could we have predictedLiving through a global pandemic this rare.
You likely won’t ever walk downThose high school hallways again.Even your graduation dateIs pending till who knows when.
God raised your funds to serve in AfricaYet the whole trip now sits on the lineYou’re accepted and ready for college,This was your year to shine.
When God gave me the word releaseI couldn’t begin to fathom whyThat to launch you into the worldYou’d need wings of faith to fly.
Faith that God’s not surprised Faith that this has always been His planFaith that you’re fully preparedBecause He won’t let go of your hand.
We never saw this comingYet now it stares us in the face.We can grieve the loss of expectationbut we must search for daily grace.
God is gonna use thisTo strengthen your faith, my son.You’ll look back and see His fingerprints,When all is said and done.
You’ll see His purpose unfoldAnd you’ll realize that in this yearThrough living in such uncertaintyHe proved that He was near.
Knowing full well I cannot protect youFrom so many disappointments aheadI surrender these missed expectationsAnd release you in faith as He said.
Earlier this week, they closed schools indefinitely till May, leaving just about two or three weeks till graduation--if we even go back at all. Yet we all have pretty much accepted the latter, that we likely won't go back. Graduation is the question on everyone's mind--how does this affect our seniors? I will admit, I've been quite anxious to know what kind of plan they've even been able to come up with, considering the magnitude and uncertainty of the situation at hand. David's hope was for a drive-thru graduation so he can proudly drive the truck/rock crawler that he and his dad built together. Lol.
Well, Dallas County extended our Shelter-in-Place order this morning, and then the district almost immediately followed suit and officially closed schools (physical schooling) through the end of the year. No final days on campus with our students to close the year. No Senior field trips, prom, special days, etc. We finish the year with at-home/e-learning, and that's it. The official graduation ceremony now has an alternative date set for mid-June (almost an entire month after the original date), and then another alternative date set for early July if June isn't possible. Then later in the day, we got word that there'd been a mistake, and they switched things back to schools being closed indefinitely at least until May 4th, and that they'd reassess the situation then. But now we at least have alternative graduation dates set up, just in case. Truthfully, I still don't see us going back.
I sat restless the rest of the day after getting the news about graduation. Suddenly the teacher side of this didn't matter to me. The parent side wanted to cry. This is truly the craziest year ever. I'm thankful my son isn't too attached to high school and had already begun to pull away earlier this year, dropping down to only three main classes so he could work more hours for the work-release program. He's really not that emotional about any of it, but I'm sure it still stings. I'm probably much more emotional about it all than he is. I mean, as a parent, you dream of (and dread) your child's high school graduation from the day they enter kindergarten. You never expect a global pandemic to mess with it!
On top of a graduation date now pending, his trip to Africa is likely (not officially) up in the air for now, as well. Who knows if it will be safe to travel even by July. All I know is that God has already provided almost 70% of his funding, so He's obviously prepared to send him somewhere, whether it's Africa this year or next, or somewhere else at a later time.
I find peace in the fact that he spent New Year's in Atlanta at the Passion Conference, literally praising God in song with 62,000 young adults as the clock struck midnight and 2020 began. In fact, we watched it all LIVE on our own television. It was incredible.Yes, God was preparing my son's heart for such an unpredictable year ahead, filled with many disappointments and loss over things we didn't ever think could be tampered with.
The other day someone wrote about how their word for the year was PRAY, and they realized how fitting that was in the midst of these circumstances. I couldn't remember what my word was for this year, so I went back and checked.
RELEASE.
Wow. I see it in a whole new light now.
Here's another poem that God laid on my heart today.
Release
I asked God for a wordTo guide me through this year.“Open up your grip,” He said,“And release that child you hold so dear.”
Release his future to MeSurrender every fear and what ifRelease your need for controlAccept when expectations start to shift.
2020 turned the cornerAnd filled my eyes with tears.As you celebrated in AtlantaIn worship with 62,000 peers.
A powerful way to beginA year with so much change ahead.Graduation, Africa, and collegeWere where my thoughts all led.
Expectations indeed quickly shiftedWith those milestones now hanging in midair,Never could we have predictedLiving through a global pandemic this rare.
You likely won’t ever walk downThose high school hallways again.Even your graduation dateIs pending till who knows when.
God raised your funds to serve in AfricaYet the whole trip now sits on the lineYou’re accepted and ready for college,This was your year to shine.
When God gave me the word releaseI couldn’t begin to fathom whyThat to launch you into the worldYou’d need wings of faith to fly.
Faith that God’s not surprised Faith that this has always been His planFaith that you’re fully preparedBecause He won’t let go of your hand.
We never saw this comingYet now it stares us in the face.We can grieve the loss of expectationbut we must search for daily grace.
God is gonna use thisTo strengthen your faith, my son.You’ll look back and see His fingerprints,When all is said and done.
You’ll see His purpose unfoldAnd you’ll realize that in this yearThrough living in such uncertaintyHe proved that He was near.
Knowing full well I cannot protect youFrom so many disappointments aheadI surrender these missed expectationsAnd release you in faith as He said.
April 2, 2020
The things we take for granted
In the midst of finding everything we possibly can to thank God for in this uncertain time, I think it's equally important to physically name the things we're missing, those things we took for granted, assuming they'd continue to be available just as much as before.
I think it's part of the grief process. Acknowledgement. Because let's just face it. We're all grieving. Life paused in so many aspects, and we don't know when it will ever go back to the way it was, if it ever will. Of course, this crazy virus isn't going to keep us confined to our homes forever. But big events like this change everything when we finally do get to move forward.
So what exactly are you missing today?
I miss those daily hugs from my students. I miss coffee shops and getting together with a friend for coffee or tea.
I miss weekly visits with my mom over a hot cup of chai.
I miss date night, a chance to get out and go out to eat with Mike.I miss routine, structure, and productivity. I miss not having to think about an icky virus every time I touch something.I miss those quiet afternoons at the gym on the weekends. I miss all the weight machines at the gym.
I miss being able to come and go as I please. I miss visiting my parents and their sweet dog. I miss physical meetings because virtual meetings are pretty close to uncomfortable phone calls to me. I miss being able to plan and schedule things.I miss being around my close circle of friends.I miss my classroom and all of the unused supplies inside of it.
There's a whole lot I don't miss--like all the rush and noise cluttering my mind, all the lack of sleep, all the testing at school, etc. But that's not for this post.
I just wanted to put a name to all those things I took for granted, and I hope you'll do the same. Just the simple act of naming them helps us through that first stage of grief--acknowledgement that it even exists.
I think it's part of the grief process. Acknowledgement. Because let's just face it. We're all grieving. Life paused in so many aspects, and we don't know when it will ever go back to the way it was, if it ever will. Of course, this crazy virus isn't going to keep us confined to our homes forever. But big events like this change everything when we finally do get to move forward.
So what exactly are you missing today?
I miss those daily hugs from my students. I miss coffee shops and getting together with a friend for coffee or tea.
I miss weekly visits with my mom over a hot cup of chai.
I miss date night, a chance to get out and go out to eat with Mike.I miss routine, structure, and productivity. I miss not having to think about an icky virus every time I touch something.I miss those quiet afternoons at the gym on the weekends. I miss all the weight machines at the gym.
I miss being able to come and go as I please. I miss visiting my parents and their sweet dog. I miss physical meetings because virtual meetings are pretty close to uncomfortable phone calls to me. I miss being able to plan and schedule things.I miss being around my close circle of friends.I miss my classroom and all of the unused supplies inside of it. 
There's a whole lot I don't miss--like all the rush and noise cluttering my mind, all the lack of sleep, all the testing at school, etc. But that's not for this post.I just wanted to put a name to all those things I took for granted, and I hope you'll do the same. Just the simple act of naming them helps us through that first stage of grief--acknowledgement that it even exists.
April 1, 2020
Don't Waste Your Life
I love quiet mornings, I love spring, and I love my front porch. So this recent closure of school and working from home is truly a gift to someone like me. I am choosing to embrace it and cherish it as an opportunity, thankful every morning that I wake up healthy. My teammates today told me that I'm the calming force keeping us all together, and that I really seem to be in my element. I think I might just have to agree with that last statement.
I can extend my quiet time a bit later each morning before I quick do my hair just enough to look presentable for my daily video check-in with my students. I prop up my phone, press record, give them any new updates, tell them I love them, miss them, and I'm proud of them. I love this new opportunity to connect with my kids in such a different way, literally "going into" their homes every morning to greet them as they tackle their school work in their pajamas.
Then I grab a cup of coffee or tea, sit outside in my "office/classroom", and take some time to read in between answering phone calls and texts from confused parents and students (usually about technology) or review, approve, and comment on assignments as they come in periodically all morning. It's less busy work now and more authentic learning going on for most of them. Honestly, many of them are giving me much better work than they ever did in the classroom. Their choice of presentation for each assignment is so unique. Some take pictures, some draw, some record their voice with the picture, and some just make me the sweetest videos explaining their work. I am absolutely loving what I am seeing from the majority of my kids, and I make sure to tell them every morning just how proud they've made me.
David brought this book home from the Passion Conference that he attended in Georgia over New Year's, so I asked if I could borrow it to read it while I sat outside in between communication spurts with my students and families.
Wow. What an incredible read and inspiring (convicting) challenge at such a time as this. If you haven't read it, I suggest that there's no better time than now.
Since the students submit a lot of their work in the evenings when their parents are home, I spend a lot of my evenings still tending to all of them (with a long break in the afternoon). Thus while I was still out with my book after dark.
To sum up the book, here's a page that really stood out to me, pointing out that God truly has an agenda for this current circumstance across the globe. (Last sentence before the bold words).
I've struggled quite a bit to focus this last year. I'd get up every morning and just felt restless in my soul. I never dreamed that I'd have (likely) the rest of this school year to finally find that rest and focus that I so longed for. I never dreamed I'd have so much extra quality time with my son before he graduated high school this May, especially considering what a busy life that boy juggled between school, work, church, trucks, and friends. Now we're together almost 24/7, playing games, watching movies, catching up on TV shows, and just talking about life. Today we went for a long, two hour walk together to enjoy the sunshine, to reminisce all the walks we used to go on when he was little, and to reflect on how this year changed so many things.
I don't know what the future holds, and that can lead me to a bit of a panic when I can't plan a single thing on my calendar for his graduation. I also can get into a panic as my husband faithfully goes to work each day, risking himself and our family out on the "front lines" of this invisible war going on. I constantly gripe at him and my boys to "sanitize themselves" and wash their hands, and they constantly gripe at me for freaking out so much. I teeter-totter between finding the positive and freaking out over every time I hear about someone else getting sick.
But every day my family and I wake up healthy, I know this time is a gift, and I'm choosing to cherish it. I don't want to waste it by freaking out or fearing the worst when there's so much beauty and peace right in front of me. Today's grace. I want to embrace the quieter mornings, releasing the rush that kept me restless, and spending more time to focus on my relationship with God and the relationships He's put in my life.
I can extend my quiet time a bit later each morning before I quick do my hair just enough to look presentable for my daily video check-in with my students. I prop up my phone, press record, give them any new updates, tell them I love them, miss them, and I'm proud of them. I love this new opportunity to connect with my kids in such a different way, literally "going into" their homes every morning to greet them as they tackle their school work in their pajamas.
Then I grab a cup of coffee or tea, sit outside in my "office/classroom", and take some time to read in between answering phone calls and texts from confused parents and students (usually about technology) or review, approve, and comment on assignments as they come in periodically all morning. It's less busy work now and more authentic learning going on for most of them. Honestly, many of them are giving me much better work than they ever did in the classroom. Their choice of presentation for each assignment is so unique. Some take pictures, some draw, some record their voice with the picture, and some just make me the sweetest videos explaining their work. I am absolutely loving what I am seeing from the majority of my kids, and I make sure to tell them every morning just how proud they've made me.
David brought this book home from the Passion Conference that he attended in Georgia over New Year's, so I asked if I could borrow it to read it while I sat outside in between communication spurts with my students and families.
Wow. What an incredible read and inspiring (convicting) challenge at such a time as this. If you haven't read it, I suggest that there's no better time than now.
Since the students submit a lot of their work in the evenings when their parents are home, I spend a lot of my evenings still tending to all of them (with a long break in the afternoon). Thus while I was still out with my book after dark. To sum up the book, here's a page that really stood out to me, pointing out that God truly has an agenda for this current circumstance across the globe. (Last sentence before the bold words).
I've struggled quite a bit to focus this last year. I'd get up every morning and just felt restless in my soul. I never dreamed that I'd have (likely) the rest of this school year to finally find that rest and focus that I so longed for. I never dreamed I'd have so much extra quality time with my son before he graduated high school this May, especially considering what a busy life that boy juggled between school, work, church, trucks, and friends. Now we're together almost 24/7, playing games, watching movies, catching up on TV shows, and just talking about life. Today we went for a long, two hour walk together to enjoy the sunshine, to reminisce all the walks we used to go on when he was little, and to reflect on how this year changed so many things.
I don't know what the future holds, and that can lead me to a bit of a panic when I can't plan a single thing on my calendar for his graduation. I also can get into a panic as my husband faithfully goes to work each day, risking himself and our family out on the "front lines" of this invisible war going on. I constantly gripe at him and my boys to "sanitize themselves" and wash their hands, and they constantly gripe at me for freaking out so much. I teeter-totter between finding the positive and freaking out over every time I hear about someone else getting sick.
But every day my family and I wake up healthy, I know this time is a gift, and I'm choosing to cherish it. I don't want to waste it by freaking out or fearing the worst when there's so much beauty and peace right in front of me. Today's grace. I want to embrace the quieter mornings, releasing the rush that kept me restless, and spending more time to focus on my relationship with God and the relationships He's put in my life.
March 25, 2020
Finding joy while quarantined
There's good and there's bad, no matter how you look at it.
The bad?
Well, that's obvious. The virus is everywhere. People are getting sick at a rapid rate. People are contracting, spreading, and dying from a new sickness far more quickly than scientists and doctors have time to study it and learn how to fight against it. We can't go out to our favorite places. We can't physically go to church, go out with friends, physically teach from a classroom, travel, or even make plans for any of the sort in the forseeable future. The economy is taking a huge hit out of nowhere. The whole world came to a halt. Both fear and skepticism hold us captive.
And then there's the good, multiplying just as quickly as the bad. The air is clearing. People are resting. Time seems to be slowing down as people are out walking (alone), breathing, taking in the fresh air and enjoying the sounds of nature they haven't had time to enjoy for a long time. Art and creativity are surfacing. Children get to experience learning in a new way, while parents get to see just what kind of "student" their child really is. Lol. And praise God, they get to learn in creative ways WITHOUT a bunch of tests thrown at them before the school year ends. Families are cooking and sitting down to eat meals together and then playing games around the same table. People are talking. Families check up on each other more and are reconnecting. Generosity flows freely (except at the grocery story, especially in the toilet paper aisle). Scripture and evangelism floods our social media channels A renewed hunger for God and eternal purpose seem well up within so many people right now.
God is up to something, and I hope we're listening. I hope that when life ever does return to normal, it's a new normal. I hope we take this time to shift our priorities and rethink what really matters.
A year ago, I found myself in a really, really dark place. It's been a long road of emotional and spiritual recovery, to say the least, but the recovery process has been so good and taught me so much in preparation for this current reality. In working with a coach, I realized just how important it is to find, do, and surround yourself with things that fill your soul and bring you pleasure. Those little nuggets of pleasure can fuel your entire day.
So while we're "stuck" inside, hoping this virus stops spreading like wildfire, make sure you take some time to follow those things that bring joy to your soul and uplift your spirit.
I made myself a list to come back to when I'm feeling down. So the next time I wake up feeling that nagging sense of dread and fear, I can pursue one of these daily pleasures to get me out of that funk and back to spreading as much hope and positivity to those around me as I can. I think I have plenty here to keep me busy, and I may come back to add more if I need to.
What brings joy to my soul
Reading an encouraging word NaturePink rosesPinkPretty nailsFoot rubsBack rubsShoulder massagesTime aloneQuiet musicBirds chirpingTea/coffee wth a friendCard games as a familyWords of affirmationProductivityFinishing a projectWriting a poemWriting about lifeTeaching Bible studyKeeping a gratitude journalLong, quiet mornings aloneQuiet, uninterrupted, unrushed time with GodTranscendent moments with God, when I really feel His presenceRoutine and structureHot bubble bathsSpringMentally recharging at the gym (or at least a walk around the block)Feeling noticed for who I really amBeing/feeling understoodQuality time with my boysSticking to a budgetScoring a great dealBeing with fellow introvertsTime alone to process my thoughts/feelings to figure something outSitting on my front porch on a warm, spring nightVanilla scentsVanilla flavorsFrothy coffeeA cup of hot tea with warm honeyMexican foodBlueberriesStrawberry piePeppermint ice creamCookie/dessert scented candlesSimplicityTravelingSILENCE
The bad?
Well, that's obvious. The virus is everywhere. People are getting sick at a rapid rate. People are contracting, spreading, and dying from a new sickness far more quickly than scientists and doctors have time to study it and learn how to fight against it. We can't go out to our favorite places. We can't physically go to church, go out with friends, physically teach from a classroom, travel, or even make plans for any of the sort in the forseeable future. The economy is taking a huge hit out of nowhere. The whole world came to a halt. Both fear and skepticism hold us captive.
And then there's the good, multiplying just as quickly as the bad. The air is clearing. People are resting. Time seems to be slowing down as people are out walking (alone), breathing, taking in the fresh air and enjoying the sounds of nature they haven't had time to enjoy for a long time. Art and creativity are surfacing. Children get to experience learning in a new way, while parents get to see just what kind of "student" their child really is. Lol. And praise God, they get to learn in creative ways WITHOUT a bunch of tests thrown at them before the school year ends. Families are cooking and sitting down to eat meals together and then playing games around the same table. People are talking. Families check up on each other more and are reconnecting. Generosity flows freely (except at the grocery story, especially in the toilet paper aisle). Scripture and evangelism floods our social media channels A renewed hunger for God and eternal purpose seem well up within so many people right now.
God is up to something, and I hope we're listening. I hope that when life ever does return to normal, it's a new normal. I hope we take this time to shift our priorities and rethink what really matters.
A year ago, I found myself in a really, really dark place. It's been a long road of emotional and spiritual recovery, to say the least, but the recovery process has been so good and taught me so much in preparation for this current reality. In working with a coach, I realized just how important it is to find, do, and surround yourself with things that fill your soul and bring you pleasure. Those little nuggets of pleasure can fuel your entire day.
So while we're "stuck" inside, hoping this virus stops spreading like wildfire, make sure you take some time to follow those things that bring joy to your soul and uplift your spirit.
I made myself a list to come back to when I'm feeling down. So the next time I wake up feeling that nagging sense of dread and fear, I can pursue one of these daily pleasures to get me out of that funk and back to spreading as much hope and positivity to those around me as I can. I think I have plenty here to keep me busy, and I may come back to add more if I need to.
What brings joy to my soul
Reading an encouraging word NaturePink rosesPinkPretty nailsFoot rubsBack rubsShoulder massagesTime aloneQuiet musicBirds chirpingTea/coffee wth a friendCard games as a familyWords of affirmationProductivityFinishing a projectWriting a poemWriting about lifeTeaching Bible studyKeeping a gratitude journalLong, quiet mornings aloneQuiet, uninterrupted, unrushed time with GodTranscendent moments with God, when I really feel His presenceRoutine and structureHot bubble bathsSpringMentally recharging at the gym (or at least a walk around the block)Feeling noticed for who I really amBeing/feeling understoodQuality time with my boysSticking to a budgetScoring a great dealBeing with fellow introvertsTime alone to process my thoughts/feelings to figure something outSitting on my front porch on a warm, spring nightVanilla scentsVanilla flavorsFrothy coffeeA cup of hot tea with warm honeyMexican foodBlueberriesStrawberry piePeppermint ice creamCookie/dessert scented candlesSimplicityTravelingSILENCE
March 23, 2020
Allow myself to grieve (Part 2)
It's a whole new world we're living in right now for the time being until this coronavirus gets under control. It's like all of our planning, striving, and living came to a screeching halt, and God decided to press the RESET button on all of us. And now here we are, all around the world, rethinking what it really is that we're living for.
I'm a pretty positive person, for the most part, and I'm always on the lookout for a silver lining, for things to be grateful for. I avoid negativity like the plague. I mean, it is what it is. No amount of complaining, whining, griping, stressing, or wallowing in self-pity is going to change it. I'll do my best to do my part and guide my family to do our part, and we'll accept what is and keep doing the next right thing in front of us. We'll trust the light God gives us for the next step ahead.
But then I woke up the other day in a funk, and reality hit me smack in the face, making the tears well up quickly in my eyes. And as positive as I want or try to be, I realized that I need to give myself permission to grieve what may be a very real, huge loss this year.
Graduation. My baby's high school graduation.
First the announcements came in the mail the day they closed schools indefinitely (meaning, we really have no idea how long this might last).
Then a few days later, the tassle came in the mail.
And now I'm hearing of several states around the country closing physical school (not e-learning) for the rest of this school year.
At this point, there's absolutely no way we can foresee or even predict what may end up happening. And that just breaks my heart. And if I'm grieving as a mother, I can only imagine the thoughts and feelings that he's trying so hard to process in the face of a reality that he is really struggling to wrap his mind around. (And believe me, it's been a battle to get him to understand it.) My busy, responsible, hard-working, always-on-the-go, using-every-minute, serving-behind-the-scenes, redneck, truck-loving, college bound, headed-to-Africa kid just.can't.grasp.what.is.happening.all.over.the.world.
My heart hurts for his heart right now. It's a very real possibility that a big graduation ceremony may not happen. And how can I wallow in self-pity when every single 2020 senior is in the same boat? Of course, we'll make the best of the situation and find every little thing we can be thankful for through all of it, but I really do need to allow myself to grieve this one if that happens.
He and his dad's pride and joy.
This class of kids came into the world in the latter part of 2001, right after 9/11 shook us all. Now here they are weeks before graduation in a world that's shaken up once again. God chose these kids for something special, and he's preparing them for something great.
Here's another poem I wrote out in that boathouse on my writer's retreat with David on my mind.
Count on Me
Oh, my darling childMy precious little boyYou are my daily sunshineAnd bring me overwhelming joy.
To think I could have lost youOn the night that you were bornTo have missed out on your lifeJust the thought makes me mourn.
I savor all our memoriesWe created over the yearsA lump grows in my throatAs your graduation nears
I cherish all your snugglesAs we cuddled up with lots of booksCouches, hammocks, beds, and chairsMade up our cozy reading nooks.
I hold on to our summertimesFilled with adventures every dayRiding bikes and taking walksExploring whatever came our way.
We swam, we cooked, we traveledTo places near and farExperiencing the world togetherBe it by airplane, train, or car.
I found our time so rewardingAs we drove to school each dayYour maturity displayed so clearlyIn our deep discussions on the way.
You opened your heart to adoptionAnd grueled through the process, too.Then you grieved right by my sideWhen everything fell through.
You questioned God along with usAnd grappled with faith through lossYet your trials produced a young manWho looks to God as his boss.
I knew God had your heartWhen you began to take the leadInviting your friends to churchAnd serving so many in need.
You accepted an older brotherAnd sacrificed your rightful place.You’ve watched our family struggleAnd yet still cover us with grace.
God has a mighty plan for youThat I’ve prayed for since your birthMay you follow him in everythingAnd never discount your worth.
I hate the way this feelsWatching your childhood slip away.But I’m in awe of the man I seeThat God molded along the way.
I love you to the moon and backTo forever and beyondI am so grateful for your lifeAnd our deep, spiritual bond.
No matter what life brings You can always count on meTo pray you through it allTo be who God made you to be.
I'm a pretty positive person, for the most part, and I'm always on the lookout for a silver lining, for things to be grateful for. I avoid negativity like the plague. I mean, it is what it is. No amount of complaining, whining, griping, stressing, or wallowing in self-pity is going to change it. I'll do my best to do my part and guide my family to do our part, and we'll accept what is and keep doing the next right thing in front of us. We'll trust the light God gives us for the next step ahead.
But then I woke up the other day in a funk, and reality hit me smack in the face, making the tears well up quickly in my eyes. And as positive as I want or try to be, I realized that I need to give myself permission to grieve what may be a very real, huge loss this year.
Graduation. My baby's high school graduation.
First the announcements came in the mail the day they closed schools indefinitely (meaning, we really have no idea how long this might last).
Then a few days later, the tassle came in the mail.
And now I'm hearing of several states around the country closing physical school (not e-learning) for the rest of this school year.
At this point, there's absolutely no way we can foresee or even predict what may end up happening. And that just breaks my heart. And if I'm grieving as a mother, I can only imagine the thoughts and feelings that he's trying so hard to process in the face of a reality that he is really struggling to wrap his mind around. (And believe me, it's been a battle to get him to understand it.) My busy, responsible, hard-working, always-on-the-go, using-every-minute, serving-behind-the-scenes, redneck, truck-loving, college bound, headed-to-Africa kid just.can't.grasp.what.is.happening.all.over.the.world.
My heart hurts for his heart right now. It's a very real possibility that a big graduation ceremony may not happen. And how can I wallow in self-pity when every single 2020 senior is in the same boat? Of course, we'll make the best of the situation and find every little thing we can be thankful for through all of it, but I really do need to allow myself to grieve this one if that happens.
He and his dad's pride and joy.
This class of kids came into the world in the latter part of 2001, right after 9/11 shook us all. Now here they are weeks before graduation in a world that's shaken up once again. God chose these kids for something special, and he's preparing them for something great.Here's another poem I wrote out in that boathouse on my writer's retreat with David on my mind.
Count on Me
Oh, my darling childMy precious little boyYou are my daily sunshineAnd bring me overwhelming joy.
To think I could have lost youOn the night that you were bornTo have missed out on your lifeJust the thought makes me mourn.
I savor all our memoriesWe created over the yearsA lump grows in my throatAs your graduation nears
I cherish all your snugglesAs we cuddled up with lots of booksCouches, hammocks, beds, and chairsMade up our cozy reading nooks.
I hold on to our summertimesFilled with adventures every dayRiding bikes and taking walksExploring whatever came our way.
We swam, we cooked, we traveledTo places near and farExperiencing the world togetherBe it by airplane, train, or car.
I found our time so rewardingAs we drove to school each dayYour maturity displayed so clearlyIn our deep discussions on the way.
You opened your heart to adoptionAnd grueled through the process, too.Then you grieved right by my sideWhen everything fell through.
You questioned God along with usAnd grappled with faith through lossYet your trials produced a young manWho looks to God as his boss.
I knew God had your heartWhen you began to take the leadInviting your friends to churchAnd serving so many in need.
You accepted an older brotherAnd sacrificed your rightful place.You’ve watched our family struggleAnd yet still cover us with grace.
God has a mighty plan for youThat I’ve prayed for since your birthMay you follow him in everythingAnd never discount your worth.
I hate the way this feelsWatching your childhood slip away.But I’m in awe of the man I seeThat God molded along the way.
I love you to the moon and backTo forever and beyondI am so grateful for your lifeAnd our deep, spiritual bond.
No matter what life brings You can always count on meTo pray you through it allTo be who God made you to be.
March 20, 2020
Allow myself to grieve (Part 1)
What a week. What a month. What a year.
We've been moving top speed as teachers to keep up with the daily changes to our career that there hasn't really been a lot of time to take it all in. That's what we do. We jump when they say jump and do whatever it takes to meet the needs of our students. They're our kids for the year they're with us. We're used to being with them more than their own families.
And this class.
Wow. This class has my heart wrapped around it. Seventeen years of teaching, and this class has captured my heart almost like my very first class did. For starters, I taught the majority of them when they came to school for the first time at age four. I gave them their foundation. And now they're back with me at age seven, many of them now eight. We went from learning letters, shapes, and numbers to now writing about the best day in their life or making their own fiction and non-fiction books as budding authors. Now they're not just counting to twenty, but adding and subtracting with regrouping and anxiously wanting to learn multiplication.
And now here we are doing remote learning, me teaching them by audio and video and them creatively showing me what they learned by making videos, drawings, or taking pictures. And it doesn't surprise me that my quietest students are the ones jumping right in to this new way of learning, probably wondering where it has been all their life! I look forward to seeing where this takes them, as I know that for some, they will absolutely thrive, while I am sad to know that others will fall behind even further. But I will do my best to cheer them on and teach them from the sidelines. Once I actually do my hair, I'll try to do a daily read-aloud or something of the sort.
Today I set up "posters" in my virtual classroom to let them know that school is just a place to learn, no matter where that place may be. I set up all their favorite parts of class (Reading station rotations, Math station rotations, Fun center/manipulative activities, Jobs, etc.) and let them know that they can still do all that stuff from home. If they can learn to take charge of their learning at home and constantly make connections to learning and their daily activities, they're set for life. Sure, there's a lot to be lost in this unfortunate reality, but there's also a whole lot that can be gained.
When I went in to the classroom on Monday to get a few supplies, my heart sank and the reality hit hard. I missed them, especially not knowing when I will get to see their little faces again. So while I allow myself to grieve the loss of time that I assumed I'd have with these kids in my care and in my classroom for the remainder of this year, to grieve that they don't get to use all those fun materials and supplies that we have sitting silently in the classroom, I'm looking up, too. While it's hard to even wrap our heads around how quickly life came to a halt and changed in ways we never could have fathomed, we keep moving forward--whether it be for a few weeks or for the remainder of the school year.
It is what it is.....so rather than ask why at this point, our best bet is to just keep taking one step at a time, doing the next right thing in front of us.
We've been moving top speed as teachers to keep up with the daily changes to our career that there hasn't really been a lot of time to take it all in. That's what we do. We jump when they say jump and do whatever it takes to meet the needs of our students. They're our kids for the year they're with us. We're used to being with them more than their own families.
And this class.
Wow. This class has my heart wrapped around it. Seventeen years of teaching, and this class has captured my heart almost like my very first class did. For starters, I taught the majority of them when they came to school for the first time at age four. I gave them their foundation. And now they're back with me at age seven, many of them now eight. We went from learning letters, shapes, and numbers to now writing about the best day in their life or making their own fiction and non-fiction books as budding authors. Now they're not just counting to twenty, but adding and subtracting with regrouping and anxiously wanting to learn multiplication.
And now here we are doing remote learning, me teaching them by audio and video and them creatively showing me what they learned by making videos, drawings, or taking pictures. And it doesn't surprise me that my quietest students are the ones jumping right in to this new way of learning, probably wondering where it has been all their life! I look forward to seeing where this takes them, as I know that for some, they will absolutely thrive, while I am sad to know that others will fall behind even further. But I will do my best to cheer them on and teach them from the sidelines. Once I actually do my hair, I'll try to do a daily read-aloud or something of the sort.
Today I set up "posters" in my virtual classroom to let them know that school is just a place to learn, no matter where that place may be. I set up all their favorite parts of class (Reading station rotations, Math station rotations, Fun center/manipulative activities, Jobs, etc.) and let them know that they can still do all that stuff from home. If they can learn to take charge of their learning at home and constantly make connections to learning and their daily activities, they're set for life. Sure, there's a lot to be lost in this unfortunate reality, but there's also a whole lot that can be gained.
When I went in to the classroom on Monday to get a few supplies, my heart sank and the reality hit hard. I missed them, especially not knowing when I will get to see their little faces again. So while I allow myself to grieve the loss of time that I assumed I'd have with these kids in my care and in my classroom for the remainder of this year, to grieve that they don't get to use all those fun materials and supplies that we have sitting silently in the classroom, I'm looking up, too. While it's hard to even wrap our heads around how quickly life came to a halt and changed in ways we never could have fathomed, we keep moving forward--whether it be for a few weeks or for the remainder of the school year.
It is what it is.....so rather than ask why at this point, our best bet is to just keep taking one step at a time, doing the next right thing in front of us.
