First Week of School

Today was my first class of the semester at Brite Divinity School and for one of my assignments, each student was given a wooden stake with a string attached.  We were sent outside to plant our stake and observe the world around it for 20 minutes.

After class I called Adam and told him about this and his first confused reaction wasn't fit to print. I loved, it though, and shared how much fun seminary education is for me.  I came back with a list of three extensive metaphors that I observed. (ants/church, big picture vs. small picture, orienting myself in the world) I was enlightened and invigorated by this activity.

My first day of school photo.

School is back in session and we are so far, humming along nicely.  Claire is so proud of her first binder with her list of assignments and special pockets for assignments.  Paul is excited that his second best friends are in his class.  He didn't get his first best friend, but he got his two second best friends.

I returned to tutoring on Monday and walked seven miles inside the building of my elementary school. I greeted new students and escorted families to new classes. I was able to calm some nerves and share positive insider information about each teacher.  A new teacher to this building is an old friend of mine.  We taught together seven years ago, so it was fun to see her.  She's still teaching third grade, although at a new school.  I didn't get a chance to tell her all the life changes I've made in that period of time.

On Tuesday I started getting more comfortable (read: anxious and starting to worry) with some new responsibilities that have come my way.  I will now be coordinating some of the children's ministry at my church.  I'm also about to start working on video announcements.

Today was Brite. Today was seminary. I was so excited that I almost cried when I had to introduce myself. I looked at the ceiling instead.

I thought I'd have to hurry to Weatherford to make it in time for a meeting, but thankfully I was offered a break. Instead, I went to the TCU library and was able to check out two of my textbooks that I was lacking. I was gifted some free moments and saved $50 in the process.

For the return of the school rhythm, we are thankful. For the return of books and buddies, we are grateful. For newness in our lives, we are contented.  For strange assignments with sticks and dirt, I give thanks.

The End of Summer: Change

Today is the last weekday of summer, and we are all rejoicing around here.  We've had fun, but each member of our family functions better on a normal routine.

This last week has been difficult and more than once I've seen myself in a frustrated mom at a store. I had the chance to go to Whole Foods Market by myself this week, and passed a mom who was looking at her son telling her, "You are just driving me crazy today! If you can't get it together, we're going to have to go home, because I just cannot deal with it!"

I'd like to tell you that sounded foreign to me, that I haven't ever said that, much less this week, but I would be lying. I said about the same thing yesterday when I was ordering at Chick-fil-A and Paul felt the need to jump onto the counter and put his feet on the same place they serve food.

Claire and Paul playing Headbands two days after the car door incident.

Change is coming, and we are all ready for it. The anticipation of back to school has me counting down the minutes and the kids ricocheting off of anything they can bump into.

On Monday we had some fun at home, went bowling, and then went grocery shopping. I go to several stores to get the best prices, so the kids were frustrated toward the end. At Aldi, Paul jumped repeatedly onto and off the bagging counter. When we left, he decided he needed to go into Claire's side of the car, even though his door works perfectly fine. She was not okay with that, so she slammed the door.  His finger tips were still in the door when she shut it, and for a few seconds he was screaming and I was struggling to understand what was going on.

His hand was fine after ice; it didn't even bruise. I told Claire that it was good she was in the backseat and I was in the front because she would receive the spanking of her life if I wasn't driving. Instead of spanking her, I called Adam and asked for a solution. He came up with a great one. For the next 24 hours, Claire had to serve Paul. She had to buckle him up in his seat belt, she had to open doors, she had to draw his bathwater, make his bed, pour his cereal and milk, and on and on. She was frustrated with it, and Paul was eating it up. By the next morning he was telling her things like, "I need to use the restroom. Can you please come lift the toilet seat?"  I assured Claire that was not part of her punishment and that he could do it himself.

Last night was Meet the Teacher night and we were pleased to deliver our school supplies and shake the teachers' hands. Paul will have the same teacher Claire did in first grade (Hooray!) and Claire has the teachers we anticipated (also exciting!). Claire wrote a letter to her new third grade teacher to introduce herself.  It made me smile to see what she thought was important to include. "I don't think I'll say that I'm smart, because they'll read this and know. I'm going to write about the dogs."

I love my children. I enjoy spending time with them. I also love them in the normal pattern that the school day provides.

So starting Monday, we'll get back to our full-swing routine. Paul will be in first grade, Claire's in third, and I will be tutoring part time as well as working at a church part time as well as taking two graduate courses. It sounds insane, but somehow I have faith it will all work out.

I've also linked this blog post up at Five Minute Friday. Find it here.

Tuesday Thanks

Here is what I'm thankful for today:

1. Distilled White Vinegar
Last week the coffeemaker was sputtering coffee and taking nearly half an hour to complete its cycle.  I ran vinegar through it a few times and it's as good as new this morning.  (Note: Don't forget to follow the vinegar with a few cycles of water.)  On Saturday we played in the pool and Sunday my ears sounded underwater.  They're not completely back to normal, but creating my own eardrops from vinegar and alcohol greatly improved the situation.

2. Books with characters so real they become family
When I was in college, my friend Sonja introduced me to the Outlander series written by Diana Gabaldon.  I just finished the latest book. I love each beast of a book; this one was more than 800 pages.  However, I read about one a year from the list and they are so well-written that picking up one makes me feel at home.
I also read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone to the kids this past week. It was so fun to read to them and listen to their excitement at each page.  We finished yesterday and went and bought the movie.  The kids critiqued each scene to see how much it aligned with the book. I was so proud experiencing their new-found passion for these books I've loved for a long time.

3. Dickies' changeless uniforms
Except at weddings and funerals, my grandfather wears the same outfit daily.  He used to be a electric line repairman and when he retired, his uniform didn't.  He wears a khaki work shirt and khaki work pants every day.  A couple of weeks ago he decided he needed something new.  His pants and shirts were becoming worn, so he wanted me to get him some new clothes that look exactly like the old ones.  I am so grateful that Dickies uniforms still look the same for all the years he's worn them.

4. Social Media in the Summer
Summertime is a different routine, and I am thankful that no matter my location or time, I can check in with some of my friends online. Although not a substitute for a live conversation, when I'm surrounded by children the entire day, it's nice to take some time to have some virtual conversations with adults.

5.  Helping friends
I am getting better about asking and receiving help in a variety of situations.  For childcare, for tuition, for helping me process my world, I am grateful for each of my friends that take time out of their day to help me. I'm also thankful that I am slowly realizing that sometimes when a friend helps me, it's not just a blessing for me.

6. Fall on the horizon
I am so excited for the approach the school year, for the kids and for me.  A steady routine helps us all.

7. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
I loved them in middle school and now my son is passionate about those sewer dwellers. It's so fun seeing the world through Ninja Turtle eyes. I have to laugh when I'm driving the car thinking about my to do list and find myself listening to a break-down of the latest Ninja Turtle episode.

8. Paul's basketball skills
Paul is playing basketball at the YMCA and he is a rock star. He is defending in an aggressive manner that is foreign to his personality. He strategically places himself under the basket for the rebound. He dribbles the ball down the court, he scores. He is exciting to watch.

9. Friendship bread
More than 10 years ago, a friend gave me a starter kit for some Amish friendship bread.  It takes 10 days to make a loaf.  I was unable to complete the first one.  But now a friend at church has shared a new one with me.  I hope, 10 years after my first attempt, that this one will be successful.  If so, I'll be sharing my own starter kit with my friends.

10. School supplies
Shopping for school supplies makes me happy.  Each unsharpened pencil is so full of promise.  Each package of paper is full of potential. I can't wait to see what this year brings.

Ivy and Faith

When I was a child, my grandparents had an ivy that hung in their den, right next to a window.  The vine spilled out of the hanging pot, down through the air, and along the carpet. It was about seven feet long and it often was in the way. When you bumped the pot, the tendrils would catch something and knock it over.  When you tripped over a tendril, the pot swayed precariously over your head.
My grandfather was proud of the ivy and its length.  He and my grandmother would cautiously water it and move the vine out of the walkway countless times.
One day a woman who was down on her luck offered to clean their house. My grandfather was in another room, oblivious, when tragedy struck. Thinking she was helping, the woman cut the vine to get it off the floor. That crime took place more than ten years ago, and if you ask my grandfather today, he would still shudder.  He was devastated that the ivy, so full of life, reaching out to far corners of the house, had been cut down in its prime.
Luckily the house cleaner saved her skin by keeping the vine. The sprig was placed in a vase of water in the kitchen window. My grandfather would occasionally have me top off the vase with water from the kitchen sink, but we never cut it.
My grandmother passed away and my grandfather's health began to decline. The vine in the pot suffered from neglect and eventually died. The sprig in the kitchen window continued to grow, however.  When he balanced against the kitchen sink to get a glass of water, my grandfather could water the ivy, too.  It continued to grow and the tendrils reached from the window sill to the kitchen counter.
Knowing how important the vine was, it was one of the first items I packed when my grandfather moved to his retirement apartment. I placed the ivy on his kitchen window sill, proudly displaying all its beautiful green leaves. I announced to my grandfather that the apartment felt like home now, especially with the ivy in his kitchen.
I returned the next week to check on how my grandfather was adjusting to life at the retirement home. He was fine, even socializing, but he told me to take the ivy to my own home.  He didn't have time to take care of it any longer.
Besides gardeners, my grandparents were also canners, and when we moved my grandfather, I rescued 20 antique Mason jars from the recycling bin.  So when I got home with his ivy, I knew exactly what to do. I filled a Mason jar with water, placed the ivy in it, and set it on my kitchen window.
The ivy flourished and despite my grandfather's pride at its length, I cut it and placed a second sprig in a second antique Mason jar.  When that grew, I did it again. The ivy kept growing, and I kept trimming it and placing the new sprig in a Mason jar.  One day I planted the sprig in a pot from my grandparents' house.
Several years later, I am almost to 10 Mason jars and one pot with the same ivy growing in them.  I place the ivy on top of my kitchen cabinets, and as soon as the tendrils start travelling downward, I cut them and start a new jar.
About the same time as my grandfather's move, a friend from church trimmed her ivy plant and offered me a sprig. She showed me her overflowing pot and told me her husband's ivy was going to take over the house.  I took my sprig home and potted it and I have a healthy plant at the back door.  Several months ago, her husband became ill and all attention was directed to him. The ivy in their
house was neglected and eventually died. Her husband's illness overtook him and he passed away as well. Last week when she visited our home, I was honored to remind her where my potted plant originated and offered her a sprig of her own ivy.
As a person of the Christian faith, Jesus' resurrection story in the Bible is essential to my faith. But I also recognize that the last page of that book is not the last word. My faith grows and also lives outside of the pages of the Bible. I see resurrection lived out every day in many ways.
When I look at my Mason jars of ivy, I am filled with love for my grandparents. When I look at my potted ivy, I fondly remember my church friend. The ivy reminds me of my faith and that the story is never over. We always have room to grow. Being put in a new jar gives us fresh water and a different place to reach out from.
Even though my grandfather was furious about the house cleaner that cut his ivy, the entire plant would be dead today if it hadn't been for her.  When she trimmed it and placed it in a vase, she allowed more growth to happen.  She allowed it to survive.  She was part of the resurrection story.  I am, too.