Seminary, Work, and Being a Present Parent this week

Just so I don't forget it and so I make sure all my readers share in the hilarity...

On the first day of class I was printing off all my class materials for that night.  I mentioned to Adam that I would be discussing Martin Luther. He says, "How many theses was it that he nailed to the church door? I can't remember." Claire immediately said, "Who put their feces on a church door? Why would they do that?"

And thus was my first seminary theological discussion.  Feces vs. Theses.  

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I wanted to share about my day yesterday because it is becoming typical of my days now.  I am so glad that I did research on time management last semester, because all my new knowledge is being put to use!

Yesterday

4:30 a.m. Jump out of bed, turn on coffee, start the computer, work on my paper on Martin Luther and  his understanding of grace.

6:30 a.m. Just finished printing the rough draft of my paper. Make sure everyone's out of bed, start making lunches.

7:45 a.m. Get kids to the school, race home.

8:30 a.m. Send rough draft of worship bulletin announcements to all who need to edit it, race out the door to my school.

9:00 a.m. to 1:55 p.m. I tutor in groups of 5-6, about 40 kids. One child got sent back to class for standing in his chair. One child got sent back to class for punching the assignment/table. The rest act precious and love reading with me. Each child anticipates the end of group when they get a cool sticker (My Little Pony or Transformers, their choice. Yesterday one boy chose a My Little Pony, but all the girls opted not to receive a Transformers sticker.)

1:55 p.m. I RUN, RUN, RUN to my car so I can make it to TCU in time for my writing appointment.

2:10 p.m. I arrive on the TCU campus and remember I'm not the only person that attends this school and I must park four blocks away from my destination.

2:20 p.m. After running as fast as I can and speedwalking when I am weary, I arrive five minutes late to my appointment. I tell my tutor that I will be a size six by the end of the day.  She reviews my paper on Martin Luther and gives me some valuable tips on how to improve. She kindly asks me to point out my thesis statement and I realize it stayed in my head and didn't make it to the page.

2:50 p.m. More running. It must be a typical class change period, because there are TCU students everywhere, all looking skinny and beautiful.  I don't care. I have to get my precious children from school. I plow them over with my giant backpack and giant coat flapping in the wind.

2:58 p.m. Arrived in car, called the school to tell them I would be late.  Driving as carefully and as quickly as I can, I realize there are two policemen going the same way I am.  I don't speed, but in my head I'm driving the Indy 500.

3:10 p.m. Arrived late to get the kids. Have phoned a friend to tell her we would be late for play date.  The kids aren't mad; they are laughing at my description of how I was running across the TCU campus to come get them.

3:30 p.m. Have baked some cookie dough for snacks for guests. Claire has laid out a spread of healthy snacks. Scrubbed bathroom for freshness, picked up terrible messes that we don't want anyone to see. Accepted that laundry will be seen and that's okay.  Doorbell rings.

4:00 p.m. Claire has shut herself in her room with her friend and Paul and his friend are in the hallway frustrated at the secrecy of girls. Paul steps on a clothespin and pinches his foot.  He screams unceasingly for 30 minutes. I worry that something is broken because he is never upset like that.

4:20 p.m. I call Adam to tell him Paul is possible injured badly although I can't see where. I hang up with him and call the doctor's office. I leave a message with the on-call nurse.  I try to ice Paul's foot. I put a bandaid on it. I distract him while I put a sock on it.  I pretend the dog is a doctor inspecting him. I sing cheesy songs. I offer to take him to the vet. None of this stops his crying.

5:00 p.m. The on call nurse phones us. I tell her what happened and during the conversation I realize Paul is running on two feet all throughout the house.  He has been healed! 

5:10 p.m. Company leaves and I remember Adam won't be home for dinner.  I won't be cooking then. We'll get drive through food after bath time.  I put Paul in the tub and Claire begins a two-year old meltdown.  She is seven.  I shut her in her room and make an important phone call.

5:30 p.m. Claire's drama has subsided. Paul is out of tub.  Claire gets in tub.  I talk with Paul and snuggle him for a few minutes.

6:00 p.m. Both kids are clean and dressed for bed. I snuggle Claire for a few minutes. I let them pick where they want dinner.  They pick McDonald's. (Yuck!) I take them there anyway. I try to find the healthiest option for my dinner and settle on Popeye's chicken, which isn't healthy at all, but at least it's not McDonald's.

6:45 p.m. Start reading bedtime stories.  Doze off a couple of times, but successfully read about Bad Kitty and Claire's book, which I can't even remember this morning.

7:45 p.m. Kids in bed. Time to clean up the kitchen from the maddening day. Pick up as many messes as I have energy for.  Pour myself a glass of wine.

8:50 p.m. Move to the bedroom with my same glass of wine to read.  Adam is still at his engineering event.  I read and try to stay awake as long as I can.

9:15 p.m. I believe I was snoring at this point and Adam arrived home.  We'll get to talk in the morning.

And today I start the cycle over, but instead of tutoring I have church work and instead of an appointment at the Writing Center I have class.  Hopefully today won't contain a mortal injury from a clothespin.

Reaching for the Stars

Just one year ago I came to the understanding the seminary was in my future. I hadn't planned on acting on this understanding for ten years, but life often moves faster than my plans.

Now I am a graduate student, working toward a Master of Divinity at Brite Divinity School.  On Monday I entered the process to become a candidate for ministry in the United Methodist Church. The Earth is spinning and I am propelled forward toward reaching a goal.

My world has a newness that both disorientates and excites me. I feel like a ballerina balanced on one toe, stretched as far and as high as I can to reach a dream.

I could topple easily. I hold so much as I reach for that next star. Two children, two jobs, a husband, and now homework. It appears that a strong breeze would knock me over into despair. But I know that won't happen because while I am balancing on one toe, while I am stretched to my entire limit to reach for that star, I am held up by loved ones.

Almost daily, a friend or acquaintance congratulates me on my new goal. My children proudly explain to teachers about Mama going to TCU. Family members that I don't see often offer their support. Friends who've known me for 20 years are cheering for me. Loved ones pray for me daily.

I am continuously humbled and grateful. I'm honored as I purchase a parking pass for a major university. I'm giddy as I purchase my four textbooks. I'm grateful as I pay my tuition bill in full thanks to baking 40+ loaves of banana bread and donations of loved ones. I'm humbled as I pull onto campus early for an appointment, thinking I have so much free time and then realize I must walk four blocks to my destination. I'm relieved as my professor confesses he usually goes to bed at 9 p.m. and works hard toward an energetic presence in this night class.

Grasping the star of my dream will take a long time, but I am confident that the universe has recognized I belong here. Even if I get weary, I won't fall because I'm held up by so many strong hands. I'm anxious to see how much growth and depth will occur as I stretch just a little bit further to reach my goals.

www.sxu.hu

Day One of the Rest of My Life

Yesterday was my first day of orientation at Brite Divinity School.  I have enrolled in the Master of Divinity program.
My enthusiasm for entering this phase in my life is a little bit intimidating to those who don't know me,

so I try to keep half of it to myself and share the other half. I'm also about to Google synonyms for the word excited so I can stop saying, "I'm excited!"

My entry into seminary has been a community effort. Friends encouraged me to explore the idea. Friends helped me with my application by writing letters and proofing my essays. Friends bought banana bread from me to help me pay for my tuition. Friends contributed privately to help.
So when I am standing at Brite Divinity School, it's not just me standing there. I'm being pushed forward and lifted up by loved ones. I know I'm in exactly the right place and I know I'm not alone.
When I met with my adviser, he informed me that the class I wanted had only one opening left. "Go, Sarah!" he told me as he waved me out of his office.
When I got to the computer I needed to register on, another community was quickly formed to help me register. I had left my password at home, I had never used the system before, and I had no less than five people helping me. One helped me reset my password. One helped me find the course number and navigate through the screens. One helped me with my student ID number, also left at home. Others looked on and offered tips. After all that, I was too late. The opening in the class was filled.
Back to my adviser, I selected a new course. The team rallied again to register me and then we realized I didn't have the prerequisites to take that course.  We recruited another team member to find another course for me.
Finally, we enrolled me in History of Christianity II, Reformation and Modern.  It meets on Thursday nights at 6:45 p.m. The professor is a published author. This is the perfect class for me and it fits into my schedule without turning the world upside down.
I'm only taking one class this semester so I can get my feet wet and not turn the world completely upside down. I want to ease back into scholarship and learn how it fits in my schedule.
I wanted to provide an update for all of you who have supported me thus far. Thank you. I am humbled and grateful beyond words. You helped me pay for my books and tuition for my first semester of seminary. Thank you.
More than financial aid, though, I would like to thank you for the encouragement and support as I enter this new phase of my life. When I feel overwhelmed, all I have to do is picture the faces of everyone who has gotten me here and I am renewed and encouraged to go forward. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Not Sharing My Toys

I have recently realized that shouldering my children with my toys as well as theirs devalues all of them.
Growing up, I had plenty of toys. I don't think I had too many, but some might argue that. They all fit neatly in my room and closet. I played with them all. Many were so special that I saved them. I boxed them and put them in the attic. As a child, I wanted my future children to be able to play with my special toys. After Adam and I were married, we reclaimed all my childhood treasures from my parents' attic and they sat on bookshelves or remained in boxes in our attic.
Now we have children. The imaginary daughter I saved all my Barbies for is real.  The imaginary son that would love a teddy bear in camouflage is asleep in his bed right now.

Some of my Cabbage Patch Dolls

I saved my treasured childhood possessions, assuming they would be treasured childhood possessions of the next generation. What I didn't foresee was the sheer volume of possessions this generation has.
Adam and I buy the kids toys at Christmas and at birthdays. On vacation, we get them a souvenir or two. Otherwise, we pay for their needs, and they use their allowance for toys. Of course there is also an influx from Grandma, but really not too much.
However, when you add up the toys from Christmas, birthdays, Grandma, and allowance spending, you have quite a multitude of toys. Add to that my treasured dolls, bears, and books and games and it's just too much.
After Christmas, we cleaned out Claire's room.  We removed everything from her room except for her bed.  All books, all toys, and all clothes were sorted into piles of garage sale, Goodwill, and keep.  We threw away trash and immediately had three full bags of paper and toy parts.  As we weighed the value of each object, I realized that because she has so many objects, they all have the same value.  It's like she can't see the trees for the forest.  I also realized that as sweet as she is, she pretended that all my old toys were special to her. They are, but all the toys are special and mine are no different.  She was drowning in toys and I was adding to the mix instead of helping her value each item.  I realized that shouldering her with the responsibility of valuing and caring for my toys was selfish in a way.  Assuming my five Cabbage Patch kids would be prized possessions also assumed she wouldn't have anything special of her own or her own scale to weigh value.
Both Adam and I come from resourceful families.  His mother and I trade coupons regularly.  My grandmother is famous for finding uses for everything, even restaurant napkins. Adam and I inherited a bit of that ourselves and have passed it on to our children. Boxes from Costco become cars, pirate ships, or dog houses. Scrap paper becomes signs, scripts, books, and spyglasses.
Resourcefulness plus toys they received plus toys I saved is just too much.  We spent hours sorting through everything, from a tiny Barbie shoe to a giant 60" teddy bear.  I reclaimed all my old toys to free Claire up to take care of her toys and not have to worry about mine.
Then I realized that giving Claire my things was the same thing others have done to me and that I have done to myself. Elderly friends have given me plates and books. I treasure them all because they are daily reminders of loved ones.  When my grandfather moved to an assisted living facility, I helped clean out his house and brought home trunk-loads of dishes, books, clothes, and other housewares I didn't even know existed. It's as if I believed my love for them could be conveyed through keeping their possessions.  I kept all my grandmother's unfinished crafts. I don't know how to quilt, but I have parts for at least three quilts.
Understanding Claire's position helped me understand my own more. It also helped me let go of even more things. So now I'm sifting and valuing my possessions, both those that originated with me and those that represent lost loved ones.  I'm trying to sift through the forest to find the truly valuable trees.

Goodbye, Papa Charles!

Last night Fort Worth lost a great man.  Charles Perry passed away.  He was a veteran, a teacher, a coin collector, a husband, a father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and a man of faith to the end.
My family first met Papa Charles at church, but it was outside of the church walls that he and his wife Mama Joy have made the most difference in our lives.
Recounting memories of him last night, we decided that Adam first got to know Papa Charles through his involvement in the United Methodist Men. I first met him and Mama Joy through my involvement with the Emmaus community at our church.
Papa Charles always had a good story to tell. I would try to tell him a cute story about my life and he would follow that with a story of history behind my story. I would tell him something like, "We got a new oven at home so I'll be cooking more.  Hahaha." Then he would look at me, take a breath and say, "You know the reason the oven is designed that way? It's because hundreds of years ago........"  I wish I had written down some of the  histories he shared with me, but I was usually caught off guard and wasn't expecting him to provide so much meaning in each exchange.  He had a talent for infusing meaning in everything he did.
Paul and Claire both have loved Papa Charles since birth.  When Paul was born, Papa Charles and Mama Joy began "visiting" the children regularly.  I would often slip up and call them babysitters but then they would correct me.  Papa Charles would say, "Now you know we don't babysit. We visit with children."  I have photos of Papa Charles and Paul as an infant, both taking a nap on our couch.  Adam and I both laughed as we shared with others that the kids were at home "with a young couple named Mama Joy and Papa Charles."
About the same time Paul was born, Adam rediscovered his love of coin collecting. He regularly takes Paul and Claire to coin shows and nearly always met Papa Charles there. Papa Charles would share with the kids history of coins.
It was cancer that took his life in the end, and Papa Charles gracefully entered into his role as a hospice patient. Just before Thanksgiving I took the children to visit him.  We sat with him while Mama Joy escaped to the grocery store.  While the kids acted crazy, he shared with us the names of birds outside and points of local history.  He also recommended I get my kids into chess because it focuses smart kids.  It was a profound moment for me when faced with death, he kept on teaching those around him.
Over the Thanksgiving holiday, he had to be hospitalized briefly and from his hospital bed, he told Mama Joy to get out some of his wooden puzzles.  She shared the story with me.  "Why do you want puzzles out, Dad?" she asked him.  He replied, "Because we're going to have children at our house visiting and I want them to have something to play with."
The next time we saw him was a couple of days before Christmas when we came to sing Christmas carols.  After the singing was over, we stayed and visited.  I eventually had to pry the children away from Papa Charles' puzzles so we could go home. He was so smart and selfless, making sure my kids had entertainment while he entered his last days.
Upon receiving the news of his death last night, Paul wanted to run over for "one last hug."  We all loved Papa Charles and will miss him greatly.

Papa Charles and Mama Joy waving goodbye to me from their front porch.

2013: A retrospective

2013 was a big year at our house. We all learned, matured, and grew either physically or emotionally.  Here are a few highlights:

Paul entered Kindergarten and Claire entered second grade. We were pleased to learn that Claire's teacher knew her and loved her before she even entered the second grade classroom. Claire loves reading and covers just about as many books as Sarah.  She is also excited about learning to multiply.  She is matter of fact and solid in her opinions and knowledge. She also is perceptive and often makes Sarah pause with her insights.

Paul loves his kindergarten teacher and mostly likes going to school. If you ask him, it's a gamble whether he will answer in the positive or the negative. He definitely would rather be home with Mama, but he is slowly adjusting to the fact he'll be at school every day.  He does have many friends and several girls try to hug him each day when he leaves the building.  He wasn't in any sports this year, but he is by far the most athletic in the family and constantly inventing new sports and climbing walls (literally).

Adam discovered Mark Twain in 2013. He's been working through the biographies, which are at least 1,000 pages each, but taking a break to read short stories. He also found a new love of sharing literature with the children and read them both Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer this year.  They've started working on Treasure Island.

Sarah compiled some of her blog entries into book fashion.  This was a huge step for me for several reasons.
1. I completed a childhood goal by writing a book.
2. I found out that some of my writing is actually worth paying for.
3. I learned how to make an epub.
4. I can google myself and find myself on amazon now!

My book is only available in electronic format. It's my first one and it's a trial run/learning process.  I would be honored if you read, it, though!  If you have a Kindle, you can download it directly to your Kindle device.  If you have an Ipad or other Apple device, you must first download the Kindle App and then go to amazon and get it.  If you have a Nook, like me, I'm sorry, it just won't work.

Here's the link:
http://www.amazon.com/Goofiness-Grace-Sarah-Boyette-ebook/dp/B00HBQUFL0/ref=cm_cr_pr_pb_t

At the beginning of 2013 I came up with the idea that going to seminary would be a good idea for me. I could learn more about faith, the Bible, and people and become a theological writer. I planned to get started in 2023. At the end of 2013 I am reading several theological tomes to prepare for orientation. I'll be attending seminary next semester!

If you ask me how I will balance everything, or what my plan is, the answer is that I don't know. I work two jobs, have two kids, two dogs, and a husband. But, just a year ago I hadn't even considered going back to school and I'm just stepping forward on faith.  It's pretty crazy that I don't know how long this will take or where I will end up, but life is short and you have to take chances where you can.

2013 has been so full of surprises that we can't wait for 2014 to begin!

Writing a Book

One of my lifelong dreams has been to become an author. I've written in various forms and forums my entire life. So I am ecstatic to announce that I have a published work!

(Click on the book cover to go to my amazon.com listing.)

You can click the link above, or search for my name on amazon.com. If you have a Kindle, the book will be delivered instantly once you order it.  If you have an Apple device, you need to first download the free Kindle App and then go online and buy it.

The book is $1.99 and every cent raised goes directly to fund my seminary education. So by purchasing my book, you are helping me achieve two dreams at one time!

I know this isn't going to win the National Book Award, but everyone starts somewhere, and this is my starting place.

Initially I thought I'd use this as an exercise in writing as well as graphic design, but that didn't work out. I spent hours laying out my book in InDesign and learning how to use that program. I thought I had it press ready, but then due to amazon.com specifications, I ended up having to redo the whole thing in Microsoft Word. So for any of you that think you might want to create an epub, just create it in MS Word and save yourself a lot of time.

Thank you for helping me achieve my dreams!

Slowing down the holiday hamster wheel

The Christmas season is often a blur to me. The period of time between Thanksgiving and New Years flies by seemingly before I can blink.
This year has been different.

This is what the truck looked like when it was half-way packed.

For Thanksgiving, instead of our traditional drive to East Texas to spend time with family, we went camping. We drove to Glen Rose State Park to see the dinosaur tracks. Adam's godparents brought their RV and we brought our tent and just about everything but the kitchen sink.  We packed long johns, extra socks, hats, coats, and gloves.  We said we were prepared for the cold.  I was not prepared for the cold. The first night the temperature got down below freezing and I was wearing everything I had in my sleeping bag under blankets in the tent and still cursing because I was so cold. The kids were sleeping peacefully. Claire was snoring soundly in her sleeping bag and Paul was enjoying sleeping in my part of the bed. (He was cold.)  I was absolutely miserable and considered leaving in the middle of the night. I didn't.
The next two nights we left our space heater on in the tent, so we were actually warm-ish. During the days we went hiking, sat by the fire, and enjoyed being away from everything.  Overall, it was enjoyable, and funny memories were made.
Two weeks later, we had the beginning of Icepocalypse. It seemed that the weathermen were being overly dramatic at first, but since it's been a full week since it began and we're still sliding on the ice, I guess there was some truth to their predictions.
Solid ice outside means that we've stayed inside.  We were home-bound for four days. This actually wasn't a bad thing.  I was able to take a breath, read a book, clean up clutter, and get Christmas cards ordered. I've been baking banana bread to cover my tuition at seminary this semester and got at least 30 loaves baked. The kids had uninterrupted play for days on end. Luckily, as cabin fever was starting to set in, the ice started clearing away.

Jumping on an ice trampoline.

The ice has humbled me. I have been forced to walk slowly and steadily. I have been forced to use what I have at home instead of running out to the store. For the most part, we kept the TV off and the kids played with toys they hadn't seen in months. During Christmas when I'm just running around with my to-do lists, it was nice to be forced to sit still.  I spent an entire day mostly sitting by the fire crocheting, reading, and getting up to bake or help a kid.  It was wonderful.
I've been listening to our hamster, Snouts Brownie, running in his hamster wheel. He doesn't do it all day, every day. Sometimes he gets off the wheel and explores his world. Both the ice and Snouts have been good reminders for me that sometimes it's okay to step off the hamster wheel of busy-ness and just be.

A Public Service Announcement

Mesothelioma is a hard word to say.  It's also a horrible disease.

Through this blog, I was recently contacted by a survivor of Mesothelioma.  Please click here to learn about her story and help share awareness.

http://mesothelioma.com/heather

Thank you.

Sarah

Human BEings, not Human DOings

Christmas and Thanksgiving are coming! Christmas and Thanksgiving are coming! Christmas and Thanksgiving are coming!

If I'm not careful, the holidays will whiz by without me looking up from my to-do list.

We're packing for a camping trip. Rather than drive to East Texas for Thanksgiving, we're going tent camping instead. That means instead of packing a few clothes and books we also have to pack blankets, sleeping bags, food, cooking utensils, and clothes and books. We've been getting ready for this trip for longer than we will be gone.

Meanwhile, I'm organizing all our holiday shopping so I can spread it out and not have to buy everything on one pay check.

And I'm still working two part-time jobs.

And I'm trying to find time to be an attentive mother and wife.

And I'm trying to take some time for myself.

And I'm trying to tackle that mound of laundry that just won't go away.

And I've got to take a dog to the vet.

And I'm writing a book.

Obviously there are just too many tasks to be completed each day. As efficient as I am, it will never get done.

Yesterday, time stood still as the kids and I visited a dying friend. Claire and Paul wanted to tell him all about the exercises they know, "Look at this! Jumping Jacks!" Our friend wanted to teach them a few things about local geography and baby animals. "What's a baby dove called? A squab. What are the three forks of the Trinity River?"  (You'll have to Google that one because when I looked it up it said we have four forks.)

True to myself, I made the kids bring entertainment items to amuse themselves with while we sat with our friend. I try to fill each moment of the kids' lives with productive activities. "Here's Battleship! It teaches you math! Claire, bring your crochet materials and let's chain stitch!" We didn't use any of that.

Instead, we attempted to sit still and talk with our friend. Sitting still for me included sitting cross-legged on the floor.  Sitting still for the kids meant climbing on me, doing leg lifts, standing on their heads, jumping, talking non-stop, and aggravating each other.

Entering the final days of his life, our friend is still patient with the children. A retired school teacher, he was still trying to teach. And I was trying to do, do, do.

We were there several hours and eventually I stopped doing. I sat by the front door and watched the birds come and go from the feeders. The kids happily began an instructional workout. When I stopped doing, everything calmed down.

His wife always tells me, "God created us to be human BEings, not human DOings."

This holiday season, I'm going to try my best to BE instead of DO. I'm going to try to remember to breathe and recognize the miracle of life. I'm going to recognize that there will always be more to do. I'm going to try to sit with the kids and just be.

The Domino Effect

The White Stripes have a song called "Little Room" that I've been thinking about lately.  The lyrics are:

Well you're in your little room

and you're working on something good

but if it's really good

you're gonna need a bigger room

and when you're in the bigger room

you might not know what to do

you might have to think of

how you got started 

sitting in your little room

This song represents my life in general right now.  We had water damage in the house so we had to have some restoration efforts.  But it's not as simple as that.  As and example, I'll describe the saga of our cabinets.  We needed to replace half of our kitchen cabinets and were lucky to find matches.  But to replace the cabinets we had to rethink them.  Our refrigerator is about 15 years old and has a freezer on top of the refrigerator.  Most refrigerators sold now are side by side doors.  When placing our pantry cabinet, we had to take into effect the reality that one day we would own a side by side refrigerator which would have banged into the pantry cabinet.  So we had to move the pantry.  And while we were moving the pantry, we could add some more cabinets.  More counter space!  More cabinet space!  Great, but then we had to decide how many drawers we wanted, what the knobs should look like.  Do we want new knobs on the old cabinets or just leave them clashing?  On and on.

We got the cabinets installed, but they are unfinished.  Then comes the next round of questions.  What color do we paint the cabinets?  I wanted light blue but was wisely advised by Home Depot to go with cream and save light blue for the walls.  Why yes, the walls do need a new paint job!  So now we have a paint job to do.  We started making progress on that and then our top cabinets started pulling away from the wall.  So now the new cabinets have to be repaired.  

We have learned in the last few months that home improvement never ends.  It almost makes you want to throw up your hands and move to a new house but then we would have to start over!  What a terrible idea, not to mention one that is no realm of possibility.  We love our house, but we hate this never-ending home improvement hamster wheel that we are caught in.  We see no escaping.  I know that once we get in the floors and once the kitchen is painted, we'll start looking at other walls and realize they need painting, too.  

Housework is the same way.  Scrub a toilet and then notice you need to mop.  Mop and then notice you need to dust.  Dust and then notice the house is cluttered and needs organizing.

Raising children is the same way.  Teach them one thing well and then realize a concept/life-skill that you forgot.  Teach them that one and then the next one and the next one and the next.

Healthy living is another.  A week ago, ran for the first time in about two years.  I didn't get to the end of the block, so the next day I tried again.  The next morning I succeeded in going further, but not far enough, so I tried again.  I was feeling so good about working out that I decided to eat a little healthier.  Once salad led to another and another and then I didn't even order a pizza once this week!

It's the domino effect.  One thing leads to another to another and to another.  If you think you've reached the last domino, you are wrong.  There's always another after it.  But that's life.  I believe that life is not the destination of perfection and reaching the final domino.  That is impossible.  Life is what happens between the dominos.  Life is the reach for the next domino, knowing that there is no end.  Life is putting up your hand to stop the dominos to catch a breath before you immerse yourself in the never-ending labyrinth of life again.

Since I have accepted this fact of life, life is a little easier.  I know I will never, ever, finish the laundry unless my family becomes nudists, so it's okay to take a break to go to the zoo.  I know that I will never teach the kids everything they need to know in life, so it's okay to watch half an hour of TV.  The house won't paint itself, but the pool is open.  

It's officially summer now at the Boyette house and I can't wait to see what dominos will fall next and which ones we can stop in order to play.

A Critique on Criticism

In my Bible study we discussed a passage on criticism written by Catherine Marshall.  You can read the post here.  Marshall decides that she will take a day to "fast" from criticalness.

I decided to try the experiment myself.  I didn't tell members of my family, but designated Saturday as a day free from criticism.  At the end of the day I felt pretty proud of myself because I succeeded.  Upon review of the day's activities, however, I realized that it wasn't much of a challenge.  Saturday was a day full of shopping.  I had money to spend and customer service people wanted to sell me items.  I was a satisfied shopper with no room for criticism.

I was raised in a household where nothing and no one was immune from criticism.  From the size of my feet to the expression on a television actress' face, all were fodder for critiques and jokes.

In college I finally realized that this wasn't a healthy way to live.  Adam helped me with that by asking questions that made me reflect on my actions.  He's always been gifted at making me see the world in a different light.  Once I realized that I was often in conversations that were critiques, I worked to stop it.

With this time of experiment this past weekend,  I was feeling pretty proud of myself.  During conversation in the car, Adam reminded me of silly, brainless, and admittedly hilarious remarks I've made that have become inside jokes around the house.  "But those jokes started years ago!  I've tried to avoid doing that."  Darn it if he didn't say one I came up with a couple of months ago.

I'm not perfect.  It's hard to shed a habit you were raised with. 

Monday was an especially difficult day for criticism.  I took the kids to the zoo and met a friend there.  I found myself criticizing a slew of things and people, including those "other moms" who wear those skin-tight running/yoga tights.  As soon as I said it, I realized how dumb I sounded.  Who cares what kind of pants people wear?  Seriously, do I have nothing better to do than to make fun of pants?

In Bible study we discussed where we find ourselves most critical.  One said that we often make critical remarks to fill a void in dialog.  Another said that we do that when we know that the person we're saying it to will agree.  I found both insights to be true.

This week I am going to try to be less critical of both myself and others.  If there's a void in dialog, I will attempt to be comfortable in silence.  I will strive to keep my unhelpful comments to myself.  I know brainless criticism doesn't help anyone.  Also, surprisingly, it is not my job to critique and fix the world.  I am not the Messiah.

Exciting Excitement from Exciteland

Last week I was accepted to Brite Divinity School. I hope to enter in January. I'm very, very, very excited about seminary and learning, being around people, and becoming a professional Jesus-lover.

I'm also very excited about the Be the Change book. My friend Rev. Jason Valendy blogs regularly and decided to compile some of his best work into a book format. I had the privilege of communicating with him along the way to watch his process and help him edit his work. A couple of weeks after he started, he now has an epub book!  It is available for all platforms free, at the link here. I like Jason's writing because it challenges me to look at the intersection between scripture and the world in a different light. He co-pastors Saginaw UMC with his wife, Estee.

Once I got my acceptance letter to seminary, I had a conversation with Adam where we realized I need to raise about $1,000 to pay for my first semester's tuition. I anticipate having more scholarships in the fall, but if I want to attend this spring (I do) I need to raise some funds.

So I figured, why not write a book myself?  I had never thought I could do it so soon.  I did some research and it turns out that I have all the software I need and almost enough material.  So that's what I'm doing. I'm writing a book! I'm going to sell it for $1 or $2 to raise money for tuition.

My book is tentatively titled "Goofiness and Grace."

I'm very excited about having a "necessity is the motherhood of invention" drive to create my first published work. Stay tuned for details!

My Feet

“Thus, when you wake up in the morning, called by God to be a self again, if you want to know who you are, watch your feet. Because where your feet take you, that is who you are.”  --Frederick Buechner

I have big feet.  Sometime around middle school I hit a size 10 and they stopped growing, thankfully.  My mom used to call me "clodhopper" and my grandpa always said, "You've got a firm foundation there."

(For the record, I just now found out what clodhopper means.  You can click here and find out, too.)

When I was pregnant with Paul, my feet swelled up to Pillsbury Doughboy proportions.  I had to go to Payless and buy size 12 flip flops, the only shoes I could wear.  There was much drama when I had to show up on campus to teach in flip flops because they were against dress code.  I ended up borrowing Adam's Birkenstocks and adjusting them to the last hole.  Luckily after Paul was born, they went back to their normal large size and I don't have to special order shoes.

My feet get no respect. They are neither pretty nor pampered. But these are the only feet I have. Just this week they have taken me to on several beautiful fall walks. They have accompanied the kids and I as we walked home and they burst with excitement about the day. These feet took me to church and school and the store.  These feet took me to Bible study where we laughed for an hour and a half. These feet sat behind my desk yesterday as I listened to funky music while typing out the words of the church.

I always think of my hands as tools of service. I use my hands to hug, to shake, to write, to work, to help, to cook. I forget though, that my feet are there also. If I started recognizing my feet as useful as my hands, would I walk different? Would I get more pedicures? Would I wear better shoes?

Today I am thankful for my ten toes that keep me balanced. When I have full hands, I'm thankful for my heels that close doors behind me. I'm thankful for that bone that juts out and reminds me of my grandmother. I'm thankful for the large, firm foundation I'm standing on that keeps me from swaying easily and keeps me grounded.

In this season of Thanksgiving, I am thankful for my hard-working, often overlooked feet. They might be big and they might not be pretty, but they take me everywhere I go.

Honoring My Commitment to Creation

Last summer I read the book, Where'd You Go, Bernadette?
For those of you that haven't read it, it's the story of a mother that goes missing and the daughter that pieces together emails to find her. I wasn't drawn into the plot like I assumed I would be. I was drawn into the theme of creation.

In the book, Bernadette loses her sense of self when she stops creating. Before she became a mother, she was a famous architect. Then she has a daughter, the family moves, and she begins worrying about things like her status among the other mothers at her daughter's private school. She has a need to create art and when she isn't creating, she's losing her sense of who she is.

Last week when Anne Lamott was in Fort Worth, one audience member asked her about art. She said she was an artist but has become busy focusing on one activity or another and hasn't had time for her art. Her question was along the lines of, "Is this okay? What should I do?"

Anne replied with her classic responses of working at the same time every day, allowing yourself to make crap sometimes, and just doing it. She told the woman not to let her life pass by and to find time for art. All of that was nearly scripted. I'd heard it all before from multiple sources.  But then she said something profound that is still rolling around in my head.

She said, "You need to honor your commitment to creation."

On the surface, she simply meant that if you identify yourself as an artist or a writer that you need to make space in your life for your art. If that is what you are, you need to make sure that is what you do. Not necessarily as a full-time job, but as an integral component to your life.  Just like in the book Bernadette eventually realizes that she is not her best self when she doesn't create.  This is a good message and one that can resonate with all of us.

But then I revisited it.  What if I thought of those words in a different way?

"You need to honor your commitment to Creation."

Creation, as in the world, as in being part of the world, as in recognizing your role as a cog on the great machine of life. Since I call myself a writer, I have made a commitment to Creation, the world, and all the people in it, that I will create writing.

When I look at the phrase that way, my commitment takes on another level of meaning. Somehow this little blog is important to Creation. Somehow my creating helps the world be a better place in a small, sometimes microscopic way. But how awesome is that? When I create, it's honoring my commitment to be a writer, but it's also honoring my commitment to give back to the human race. No matter how small, when we all give back with our gifts, together we make it beautiful.

Creating community, Anne Lamott, and Hugs

Yesterday my favorite author, Anne Lamott, came to Fort Worth.  She was here in April and I was excited about that for weeks before the event and weeks after the event. When you love an artists' work and then get to meet that person, and even connect with them through a hug, it makes your connection to the work even stronger.  This time was no different.
The talk started at 7, but I assumed there would be thousands of people there, so I showed up at 5. I did this at her last appearance, too, and ended up making a new friend.  This time I knew what to expect, so I was less anxious and nervous and just buzzing with enthusiasm.  The only people at the event when I showed up were the organizers, who were arranging chairs, cookies on trays, and fall displays.  They all laughed at me and my excitement.  That's perfectly fine. These people were somehow responsible for bringing my favorite author to town, so I wanted to show them my gratitude and excitement.
Shortly after I arrived, another crazed fan walked in. I had positioned myself by the door so I could see everyone coming in and introduce myself.  I greeted the people who came in the door to be greeters, which was pretty funny.  The new crazed fan was Carol and she had driven for nearly two hours to see Anne Lamott.  We became fast friends.  As more people arrived, I introduced everyone to everyone and pretty soon the entire atrium area was laughing and smiling. As 7:00 approached, everyone was respectful of Carol and my wait and excitement and they all lined up behind us to go into the church's sanctuary.
By the time the doors opened, I had made at least 20 new friends, and had been a part of at least five meaningful conversations about faith and life.  All my new friends ended up sitting with my already friends and we filled a pew before we even had finished arriving.  As more people arrived that had planned to sit with us, we scooted down and talked with each other, swapping bits of our life stories.
This is what I love about church. This is a huge reason why I am headed to seminary. I believe in the gifts of community and I love connecting with people.  By the time the event began, there wasn't a distinction between new friends and old. We were all friends together. We were surrounded by love and were sharing infectious caring with one another.  I put on my jacket and I had a close friend plus the lady behind me helping me put my arm in the sleeve.  Just a simple action like putting on my jacket was infused with love.
Of course we all loved hearing Anne Lamott speak. My new friend Carol cried several times and then another new friend passed a kleenex box down the row.
After the event I said farewell to friends as they left and then I got in line to have a stack of books signed.  I gave Anne a gift of pens, a pencil pouch, bluebonnet seeds, a copy of my blog post about her, and a card that says, "You are beloved, precious child of God and beautiful to behold."  She loved, loved, loved it and even hugged me a good, long time.
***(I got the card idea from my friend Rev. Nancy, who passed them out during Bible study one night. I passed them out this year during Bible study and had leftovers. I was handing them out to my new friends like trading cards. Everyone loved them.  One of my new friends even had Anne sign her card so she could put it on her mirror.)
So on the day after the event, I am unsure what I loved most. Was it the excitement and anticipation? Was it the connection with new and already friends? Was it the sense of community we created? Was it Anne's speech? Was it the honor of speaking to her and offering her a gift? Was it knowing that some of my writing will be read by my favorite author? Was it getting a hug from so many people, including Anne Lamott?
I'm not sure, but I am sure I will be happy about this for a good, long time.

My Grandmother's Quilt and Anne Lamott

I found this quilt at my grandmother's house when my grandfather moved to an apartment.  It's hand made and hand-stitched and sturdy and beautiful.  This summer I let Claire keep it on her bed as a "summertime" comforter and the quilt survived jumping on the bed and forts and two children giggling.  Now that fall is here, I got Claire's regular blankets out of the closet and reclaimed this beauty.

It's got some gaps in it right now where stitches came undone, but I've been repairing it stitch by stitch while watching television or praying.  I know my grandmother would be delighted that my kids are loving and using this blanket, even though that meant needed repairs.

This week my favorite author Anne Lamott will be in Fort Worth again.  This is her second appearance here this year.  Her book tours often haven't made it to our area, so for her to come back to my hometown is an exciting honor.  She's currently promoting her new book, Stitches, which is supposed to be a companion to Help, Thanks, Wow.

What I love about Anne Lamott is her transparent honesty and strong faith.  She knows she's imperfect and needs regular divine intervention and she shares that.  So many people try to look good or sound right.  Honesty in imperfection is like a breath of fresh air.  I strive for it as well, but I'm still practicing being transparent about my shortcomings and all the grace I receive on a daily basis.

While I've been sitting on the couch stitching the holes together in this beautiful quilt, I've been thinking of the rich metaphors that action brings.  

I have to sit down to repair the quilt, just like sometimes I have to sit down to be repaired.  When I'm running around like a chicken with my head cut off, I miss hands trying to help me or hug me.  I have to sit down to be repaired.

The string the I'm using to patch the pieces together is stronger than the original thread.  Similarly, when I fall apart, I come out of the repair stronger than before.  When I get overwhelmed with work, motherhood, or life in general, I have to be pulled back together.  Sometimes a friend helps me, sometimes a quiet prayer helps me, sometimes a walk by myself helps me.  Whatever it is that pulls me back together, though, patches me up stronger than I was before.

Each patch of this quilt has a story with it, just like each part of my life is a story.  Everyone's life is full of color, alternating between bright and dark, dull and glittery, busy patterns and calmness.  If you look too closely at one part you miss the beauty of the entire quilt of life.  When I miss the big picture, I miss beauty and how every part of life works together to weave a beautiful story.

I can't wait to meet Anne Lamott on Thursday and share with her what her story means to me and my grandma's quilt.  I can't wait to see the addition of new patches on my life quilt and how they make the blanket of life even more beautiful.

Why I keep my nametags

At the places I go, I often end up with nametags.  I always keep them.  Not forever; they often wear out and I have to toss them, but as long as the memory of the event is fresh in my mind, I keep my nametag.

This fall I travelled with a group of ladies to the Church of the Ressurection Leadership Institute in Kansas. At the end of the retreat, most people turned their nametags in so they could be recycled or repurposed.  I didn't.  My nametag hangs in my office and is a visual reminder of what I learned, how God worked in my life that week, and how lessons and techniques learned there are still being implemented and not forgotten.

At church I have a nametag that says "Communications Coordinator."  I wear it often, but not often enough.  It reminds me that I have a place of belonging, that I am part of a team, and that it is not my job to communicate everything that happens at the church.  It is my job to coordinate the communications.  When I'm overwhelmed, that makes a big difference to me.

At my school, my nametag shows that even though I'm only on campus two days a week, I am part of a staff.  I am an educator.  I don't have to attend faculty meetings, but the nametag gives me entry to every classroom in the building and respect from teachers and parents.

A few years ago, some friends of mine started a non-profit group. Adam and I attended the first Fort Worth Dish Out and I still have the nametag to prove it. It reminds me that I played a role, no matter how small, in the start-up.

This past week I attended open house at Brite Divinity School. My nametag there was simple; just my name on a stark white background, suspended on a string around my neck.  It was perfect in it's message.  Here's a place that is expecting me.  Here's a place that I belong.  I have no idea what this place will look like with me in it, but here is my name.  The future is a blank slate.

Nametags are powerful. I can't wait to see where I get my next one.

The Joys of Motherhood

In conversation with a friend recently, she marveled at my motherhood. "I don't know how you do it," she said. Being a parent seems like a daunting task to her.

It's true. Being a parent requires everything you have and more. In this day and age, parents are becoming more honest and more vocal about the difficulties of parenthood. Perfect facades are being laid down for real discussion about struggling to raise children. Books and blogs focused on frustrations of parenthood are published daily. I'm glad that parenting conversations are shifting toward more truth, but this shift also seems to shift toward more negative discussion. I want to be an honest voice to remind us of joy.

When complaining about the struggles of potty-training, we need to remember the joy and hilarity of the Potty Dance. Potty-training was the hardest parenting task I have faced yet. I was often frustrated and downright mad. But I also laughed until I couldn't breathe when my children made it to the bathroom in time and started succeeding. Everyone in the house stopped what they were doing to dance in celebration.

Homework is hard and some days my daughter comes home not wanting to do it at all. "Can I please just have some play time and then do my homework? Why do I have to do this?" Sometimes I have to firmly redirect her back to her task. Without homework, though, light bulb moments often escape my notice. When we regularly engage in educational activities, I get to see the light in Claire and Paul's eyes as they grasp a concept for the first time.

Having kids is like being members of an exclusive club. My husband Adam and I have shared private jokes for years, but now we have four people in on the joke instead of just two. At the grocery store Paul can say a line or make a face and as soon as I understand the reference, I find myself laughing out loud. In the church pew, Adam often says something to us that makes us all shake with laughter.

Without children, reading is a solitary activity. At our house, even if Adam is reading his own book, he will soon find at least one child in his lap. Bedtime stories are a sacred ritual. Snuggling while reading a good book is ecstasy. On times when I have a few moments to read my own book, I feel strange if there isn't a little person next to me or in my lap.

Being a parent adds newness to every aspect of your world. Items on a shelf that I have long overlooked now spark wonder and curiosity in a child. My daily routines are examined and discussed. Nothing escapes notice. It is exhausting, and sometimes I just want to complete a simple task like getting a glass of water without explaining how the water filter works. But if no one is there to ask, I sometimes forget the magic of everyday life.

I love being a mother. I overwhelmed with love and gratitude when I am walking and suddenly find a small hand clasped in my own. I often wake in the middle of the night to find someone has sneaked in and a little arm is draped over me in affection. I regularly have reason to jump on a trampoline. I
pick dandelions and blow the seeds from the stem. I've always been goofy, but it's much more socially acceptable to be goofy with children. Yesterday I was in a sword fight that didn't have any bloodshed. Outgoing children means friends are collected everywhere, and it is rare to leave Wal-Mart without a new acquaintance.

The list goes on and on. Motherhood adds a layer of intensity to all aspects of my life, but it also adds a huge layer of joy.

Thankful Tuesday

It's officially fall weather around here, and I'm savoring it for the brief moment it's around.  Spring never sneaks up on me; I am always anticipating it beginning in February.  Fall, however, always arrives when I'm not looking.  One weekend we'll be splashing in the pool and the next weekend without warning, the pool will be closed until next summer.  Without fail, I'm surprised every year.  Our pool floats still wait hopefully around the pool, but they are about to start collecting fall leaves.
Today I am thankful for:
1. Fancy hot tea that makes me feel warm inside and luxurious.
Last summer on an impulse, we accepted some samples from a Teavana store.  We walked out $50 poorer, but rich in tea and accessories. Now the whole family is hooked on delicious fresh tea. I start brewing it every afternoon in our special tea brewer and the kids and I get started sipping.  Adam comes home to a fresh, hot cup most days.  It's a luxury we all share and relish.
2.  A handy husband.
Last week we received much rain and the roof started leaking.  I put a bucket under the leak and called it a day.  Adam, however, knew that wasn't good enough and crawled through the attic and on the roof multiple times to stop the leak until a professional can come fix it.  He also left work to rescue me when my battery died.
3.  Happy kids
Nothing warms my heart more than to be in the kitchen cooking and listening to the kids jump on the trampoline laughing so hard they lose their breath.
4. A plan in place
Now that I know I'm going back to school, I can start preparing for my next great adventure.  I'm doing a little bit on my application every day.
5.  Friends that I really love
I am so blessed to have several people in my life that I truly love.  Thank you for being my friend.
6. Laughter
It seems that the last week has been extra giggly around here. Adam has the power to crack me up just by saying one word or looking at me strangely.  Paul is working on his funny faces, too, and on the way to church, Sunday, we were all rolling at his sense of humor.  Claire has the ability to make hilarious connections between seemingly dissimilar people and events and she stops me in my tracks laughing.  I am thankful for joy that interrupts my routines.
7.  Halloween costumes
We've all got our costumes around here and we've been wearing them already.  A friend stopped by the house two days ago and I answered the door in my fox ears and tail.  He didn't even blink.  I love that no one thinks twice when I'm wearing something ridiculous.  Want to know why I'm a fox this year?  Click here.
8. Trick and treat
We've been "booing" the neighbors on our street.  Claire and I made a giant double batch of chocolate chip cookies on Saturday.  Claire and Paul have been secretly delivering them plate by plate to neighbors with a sign that says "You've been booed!"  It is so cute to see them sneaking up to the doors to deliver the treats.  Walking down the block and noticing all the posted signs from recipients of our treats makes me happy.
9.  Casa Manana
We had the opportunity to go see Dora Live! on Saturday at Casa Manana. The kids loved it and have been running around the house singing songs from the stage production.  Of course they don't sing the songs normal; there's always a goofy twist, but that's what makes it hilarious.
10. Grace for missing shoes
This morning Paul's world was coming to a crashing halt as leaving time approached and he couldn't find a matching pair of shoes.  We all looked in earnest but no pair was to be found.  His room is a disaster area and he was suffering the consequences.  Claire looked in her room and found three shoes, all different pairs.  Paul found several single shoes in various parts of the  house.  I started picking up and sorting toys, finding a few flip flops, but no matching pairs.  Just when he was lacing up one yellow and one black shoe, I went to the car and found a pair for him.  This afternoon he'll be cleaning his room, but at least his tears were down to a sniffle by the time he walked into the school building.