Embracing this Beautiful Season

Fall brings with it an emotional struggle for me every year. I love the colors of fall, the snuggle of a hoodie, the comfort of a backyard fire, and eating soup (sorry pumpkin lovers, I’m not in your crew). BUT, I always mourn the loss of flip flop weather, less daylight, fun days at the pool, and dread the reality that winter is coming (I despise winter). I enjoy the look of the season change, but sometimes struggle to fully embrace it because of what it means is now over. This fall however, I have two little boys who love campfires and s’mores as much as I do. (a) has been waiting impatiently for weeks to pull out his beloved hoodies, and (b) loves playing outside without getting eaten alive by the summer bugs. They seem totally thrilled with fall- and so I am trying not to think about what is past but instead enjoy this beautiful season.

I’m realizing it isn’t just the outside season that is changing, but the season of our lives as well. In the same week last month, (a) started Pre-K and (b) started walking. Now car rides are spent spelling every word he things of for him, discussing letter sounds, and hearing about his class science and cooking projects. He absolutely loves learning and has fallen in love with school. After he spent quite a while one evening this week telling me all the letter sounds for the words on his coloring sheet- I told (A) I couldn’t get over how quickly he was absorbing it all. He is becoming a student, and this is a whole new season for us. As a teacher I’m beyond thrilled for his love of learning, as a mama I am watching the season change. And I am trying with all my being to not hold on to the past, but instead enjoy this beautiful season. (b) started walking with a few toddling steps here and there. He would still often choose to do this funny, scooty crawl thing because it was faster for him for the next couple weeks. But in the last two weeks we have gone to full out walking, and who am I kidding, running around everywhere he wants to go. Finding his feet has also meant he as found more things he can get into, more things he can climb and ride, and has freed his hands up for carrying anything he wants (which is often swords, nerf guns, and water squirters). This new found walking confidence also seems to be brining with it some talking confidence too as we are picking up new words quickly, and just this week has started repeating “I love you” often when you say it to him first (be still my mama heart!) I have always referred to him as “our baby,” but as he walked all over outside the other night eating marshmallows and yelling at the dogs, I looked at (a) and said I don’t think I can call him a baby anymore, I think truthfully it is much more accurate to call him a toddler. My heart snagged just a little as we pulled out the totes of fall clothes for me to retrieve the next size and season for him. But thankfully pulling out those hand-me-downs from (a) brought back a lot of great memories, and it made it a whole lot easier not to hold on to the past, but instead enjoy this beautiful season. Ready or not, change is here. The leaves in our yard are starting to turn, the temps are consistently cooler. The boys are growing and becoming who God created them to be. And so I will choose not to mourn the loss of what was, but instead be thankful for the all the precious memories we have made and experiences we shared. I will not cling to the past, but instead enjoy this beautiful season. “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” Ecclesiastes 3:1

A Lesson in Weakness

 For the last few weeks, my time has felt more torn than ever before.  My school district does not have a separate teacher devoted to full time remote students, so I am juggling both in-person and online instruction for both types of students in both my grade levels.  We are not structured in a way this year that I have any time to devote to one-on-one help for students who are behind or confused, or any time to let them play “catch-up.” My hours at school have my heart and my time torn into how to make the best of all this, but give everyone the best of ME that I can give them.  Once I leave school for the evening, my time is still torn between trying to do what is best for my family but also trying to be available to answer parent emails and messages, because I know they are also in a hard spot of having worked all day and are now home with their students trying to navigate remote homework (students leave at 1:30 daily, so they are still responsible for some remote work in the afternoon after in-person instruction).  My body is exhausted and I am torn between feeling like I should lay down for some rest or pulling on my tennis shoes to go put in a couple miles for the good of my health.  The daily messes of two ornery boys need my attention, but then so do those boys themselves.  It is all one precarious juggling act, and truthfully, it is one I know most teachers and parents are all facing right now.  It leaves me feeling so weak and inadequate.

 

I have been looking for ways to make it ALLLLLL happen.  But instead God’s gently reminding me that it isn’t possible right now to make it ALL happen, what I needed to learn was how to allow myself a little grace.  This week I’ve TRIED to focus on not just surviving, but finding ways to give myself some grace and peace.  Not stressing over ALLL the things, just doing the best I could in the moment I was given.  Some evenings I pulled on the tennis shoes- I knew my mind and body would feel much better after a couple miles on the pavement.  One night I just let myself crash on the couch.  Most nights I planned ahead for an easy prep meal, but one night we did drive-thru. This week I released the guilt of going to bed at 8:30.  With the creative help of another teacher, I have come up with a way to do a small fraction of my usual differentiated reading instruction while still following all our COVID restraints.  I still feel like I am failing to give them my usual best, but it is the best I can do in the moment I’m given.  And oh those ornery boys… I’m so thankful they give me grace over and over.  Such as Monday evening when (a) was cleaning out his pony stall, (b) was riding his little scooter trike, and I stepped into the barn for just a minute to grab hay for the pony.  When I walked back around the corner I didn’t see (b) on his trike, instead he was in the pony stall with his brother wearing a HUGE smile and laughing as he squeezed pony manure through his tiny fingers.  Mom FAIL= Boy FUN… they just keep giving me grace.  The night I was too tired to move from the couch- (a) announced the  was EXACTLY where he wanted me to be so he could “lead worship” in the living room and I could watch and sing along (oh and play the tambourine for him).Their invitations to play toys together often give me more of an urge to clean up the messes of toys, but giving myself the grace to sit down and play together seemed to give me the energy to do all the clean-up more quickly later.

Together we first PLAYED, then we managed to clean up more messes than we just made

 

I’m not doing it all.  I’m not going to be able to do it all.  But in all the things I am doing, I find a little grace going a long way.  It has been a powerful lesson in my extreme weakness, and my need for my extremely strong and gracious Father.

 

“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is make perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” 2 Corinthians 12:9

Writing a Story

 It really is rare when I sit down to write and find myself staring at a blank screen.  But when it does happen, it is usually because my heart is completely overwhelmed.  This has been one of those weeks.  In 7 days time my health has been tested, my emotions have run an entire marathon, my workload changed to a completely different platform in a matter of hours, my stress level has been up and down and back again, AND to complicate matters, I spent 3 days completely covered in hives.

 

I won’t share the whole story today, because it isn’t over yet, and I make a point not to tell a story until the time is right.  But in the chapter that has been the last week here are a few things I have observed.

 

Life is better when you are surrounded by amazing people.  When you have friends who drive 7 hours to spend 3 with you.  When someone shows up with dinner that all I had to do was stick it in the oven.  When a friend texts you (having no idea what your week was like) to ask to keep your kids so you can have a date night.  When someone loves you enough to laugh about your child’s brutal honesty towards them even when you are horrifyingly embarrassed by it.  When people stand in the gap to pray when you don’t have any words.  When THOSE kind of people are your people, even hives aren’t quite as noticeable.

 

Redemption is a beautiful thing.  Some dates are forever burned in my memory.  Many of those memories are wonderful, but others are not.  In the past week we passed over one of those hard dates, BUT GOD… used that exact date to do an unexpected and wonderful thing and His voice whispered over my heart more than once “I am redeeming this.”

 

Sometimes you have to walk away. The stress level of teacher life this year is greater than anything I could have imagined.  And I can and I am doing hard things… but I also realized that sometimes I have to step away and let it wait for the next day.  At home there are three pretty awesome guys waiting for me to laugh with them, feed them, play on the floor with them, or help with their laundry.  They are worth setting the stress aside and saying “this will still be here when I come back tomorrow.”

Tree climbing and pony pampering are worth walking away from the stress for

 My story God is writing is not over yet.  There are still unknown parts that I am praying for the ability to trust Him with.  There are still chapters I don’t know the titles of.  But this chapter reminded me that He has His hands over it all.  He can redeem the story, provide for my needs, and He even took away the hives.

 

“When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy.” Psalms 49:19

Becoming My Parents

Last night it was fresh bedding night for our pony, Snoopy.  Every few weeks we grab a couple fresh bags of shavings to replenish what is carried out with the daily stall clean-out.  As I pulled the plastic wrapped bales of pine shavings out of my SUV, (a) announced “I’ll dump em and you make em soft, ok!?” I agreed and giggled to myself as I knew he meant fluff and spread when he told me to “make em soft.”  Pine shaving don’t weigh much, so it wasn’t a big deal for him to pick them up, but they are packed pretty tightly and the plastic wrap is very snug, so my 4-year-old’s efficiency at dumping them was kind of another story.  When he couldn’t get them to just fall out, he began pulling handfuls out of the bag at a time.  In the process of that he started getting shavings down in his rubber boots, so then he had his boot off, standing on one foot like a stork dumping shavings, while he leaned on the bag he was supposed to be emptying.  It was kind of becoming one of those “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie…” scenarios.  

Success!! After...

Boot drama and...

frustration

But instead of jumping in to help him or fix it, I found myself watching and talking him through it while still making him independently solve the problem.  Eventually he got the boot back on and attempted the dumping again.  I suggested maybe he should tear back a little more of the plastic and showed him what I meant on the bag I was holding.  He tried it, and what do ya know- success!  After he had both bags dumped where he wanted them, I took the stall fork and started spreading and fluffing.  As I worked, I was talking him through why I was doing what I was doing.  He then came over and asked to take a turn.  While we finished up, I also talked with him about being more careful not to get SO many shavings with every scoop of manure he cleaned out of the stall in the mornings- sure it’s part of the process, but there is no need to be wasteful. 

 

After that process was finished, we mixed some new feed I had grabbed for Snoop from “the farm store.”  He pasture is getting eaten down pretty thin, so we opted to supplement him with a little bit of beet pulp.  For years I fed beet pulp to show heifers, but I realized that was long before (a) was around and he didn’t know the process of wetting it down to soften it and make it expand, so before I knew it we were both crouched over the bucket with hands in mixing wet feed.  He thought that process was epic, but loudly announced “I would NOT eat that!”  I giggled and told him it really wasn’t bad at all, and then I pulled out one of the wet shreds and offered it to him to try (I promise, it is totally safe).  He took it, chewed it up, and declared it was pretty good! He then asked me, “Mama have you had this before?”  I assured him I had chewed on beet pulp a few times myself to which he followed up with “Who gave it to you?”  I didn’t hesitate to answer, “Poppa Loran” (the name he calls my dad). 

 

But with that simple answer, I realized many other things.  Not only did Poppa Loran teach me to try a sweet, wet shred of beet pulp from time to time, he taught me how to mix it by getting my own hands dirty with him.  He often helped us practice the “art” of scooping manure without wasting bark or shavings in a heifer stall.  When we were figuring out how to do something, he usually talked us through it while making us independently problem solve, dump our own boots, and try again.  He talked us through why he was doing something as he did it.  And he let us work beside him on jobs that would probably have been quicker and easier to do himself, but he found value in the teaching instead of just getting it done.  In a few moments flashback, I realized that with my son in the barn I am a lot like my dad.  (a) brought me back to the present when he picked back up the conversation of who gave me the beet pulp by asking “Was he YOUR Poppa then?” And I just smiled as I said, “Well yes, but he isn’t my grandpa, I call him ‘Dad’.” 

 

In an hour’s worth of work, we had a successful cowboy, a happy pony, and a new reality that I am becoming my parents.  And I decided I am more than thankful for all three.

 

“Children’s children are a crown to the aged, and parents are the pride of their children.” Proverbs 17:6