Someone's Greatest Treasure

 Last night I left school feeling victorious.  I THINK it was the first time in my career where I had 100% attendance from families at their child’s parent teacher conference.  It felt like such a huge win, especially in a year that has been so hard for students, teachers, and families.  We continue to juggle our hybrid schedule, didn’t finish last year in any traditional way, and have popcorned in and out of in-person and remote for quarantines- and yet parents and families still willingly and receptively showed up for conferences.  I was so very thankful.

 

I have not yet sat on the parent side of the table for conferences, but for me as a teacher they are always a little nerve wracking.  They make for long days, so it is sometimes hard to keep the pep and energy that you started the day with.  The schedule is usually pretty tight, so keeping the conference to the given time is important but often hard.  You don’t want to cut off anyone, but you don’t want to keep the next several waiting.  Sometimes, you have nothing but amazing news to share- those are easy.  But for many students there is one area or another where they are in need of improvement.  Sometimes you have to have really hard conversations- ones where you have to unfortunately share that a student is really struggling academically or behaviorally.  Often there aren’t quick easily solutions to those situations, and it can be hard to share that information with their families.

 

Each year, right before conferences I put together a little packet for families.  It includes the student’s self-assessment of how the school year is going, data and charts of student performance, current grades, and other information that could be helpful like state testing dates, student work samples, or practice websites.  On the very top of the pile I have a page with notes for myself.  The two top boxes on the page are labeled “strengths” and “concerns.”  In the days leading up to the conferences I take some significant time to assemble the packets I share, but my main focus is filling out that notes sheet, especially those top two boxes.  Unfortunately, in my human nature it can be easy to list my concerns.  Third and fourth grade students are often irresponsible, lack focus, talk too much, aren’t neat with their work, don’t listen… I could go on and on- and those are just behavioral concerns, that isn’t even scratching the surface of academic struggles.  BUT, that is where I have to stop human negativity and check myself.  I want to also list as many strengths as struggles- so what are my one or two MAIN concerns?  I don’t want to nit-pick every little behavior or normal childhood tendencies to talk too much or not follow directions. 

 

As I write those notes I always have to stop and remind myself- these children are someone’s greatest treasure.  The parents and grandparents who will sit across the table from me, look at these children the way I look at my own- full of love, and hopes, and dreams, and potential.  Willing to give some grace for their faults and wanting them to reach every goal they set for themselves.  And when I think about it that way, it is much easier to prioritize one or two main concerns, and create a glowing list of strengths.  Do I still have to have some hard conversations- yes.  And I would want my children’s teachers to do the same for me if needed!  But even those are easier when I focus on what a treasure that child is and how much I want to hold his or her best interests at heart. 

The Cowboy on his first day of Pre-K

 It is a quick transition from students leaving to parents arriving, but in that time I take a quick minute to hit the restroom, touch up my lipstick (well on every other year when I wasn’t wearing a mask), and pause for a few minutes to pray that above all else, I will remember with each conversation… these children are someone’s greatest treasure.

 

“And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones who is my disciple, truly I tell you, that person will certainly not lose their reward.” Matthew 10:42

The Third

 The third.  There is still so much to the story that I haven’t shared yet… and I’m still not quite ready to, but you, the third baby, have taught me so much already. 

 As we started slowing telling close friends and family between weeks 8 and 12, I was surprised at the questions I found myself answering that we never answered before.  I have to giggle at how many times we heard “Was this on purpose!?” as people’s first reaction.  Apparently, you must be slightly crazy to willingly want a third haha, but we are in the crazy crowd- yes, sweet baby, you are certainly on purpose, by both your parents and your divine Creator.  We also have often heard, “Of course you are trying for a girl this time, right!?” And again, I giggle, because the answer is nope.  Our hearts just wanted one more sweet, little one, boy OR girl.  I think a trio of ornery, blue eyed boys would be EPIC, but I also wouldn’t turn down the fun of bows and ruffles.

 

I was NOT surprised at how excited (a) was to find out he is going to be a big brother again.  He has been begging for another baby since (b) was born.  He loves being a big brother, and he loves babies.  He was thrilled to find out, and is already talking to my belly, making plans for the things they will do together, and last night as he was praying for the baby to grow strong and healthy, he added “and please God, let our baby be cute!”  He even willingly and excitedly cooperated for our announcement pictures (something he did NOT do the first time he found out he was going to be a big brother).  The day after we told him the news, he drew the most precious picture and presented it to me with an explanation: “This is Mama” (in the middle), “This is our baby” (down at the bottom), “And this is God” (on the left) “because God is looking out for Mama and our baby.”  Oh sweet boy, you have NO IDEA how much God has been looking out for Mama and our baby.  I don’t keep them all, but I think I will keep this piece of artwork masterpiece forever. 

 

Some days I look at the dinner time chaos of the two we have and wonder how on earth we will juggle a third, but then they randomly hug each other and cackle with laughter and I know we will have NO trouble fitting a third into our bunch.  Some things seem like old hat, I barely even think about my daily shot or the work it takes check ingredient labels for carbs- those things were hard the first time around.  But other things never get old, like the excitement of an ultrasound or hearing that precious little heartbeat.  Many days I felt guilty as we often went all day without discussing the baby for fear of (a) overhearing us, or realizing that I am no longer checking daily for the developmental milestones we are crossing or the size of the baby as I did with the first two.  Other days I still marvel at how blessed I am to be growing a little miracle, that feeling never gets old. 

 

Oh sweet third, there are so many things you have taught me already, there is so much I still don’t know and will need to learn.  But this I know without a doubt, I am blessed to be your Mama, and you will be incredibly loved in this family.

 

“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.  I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” Psalm 139:13-14

When it Doesn't Hurt Anymore

 When we left southern Indiana two years ago, (A) and I made a promise to each other that we would never turn down an invitation to return to the area for speaking engagements or ministry events.  So when the invitation came for me to speak at a women’s breakfast in the area, I didn’t hesitate to say “yes.”  It was great to be speaking again as COVID cancelled all my other events that were planned this year.  And it was especially wonderful to walk in the church and be greeted by several dear friends whom I hadn’t seen in a long time.  But here was the best part… it didn’t hurt.  You see, for the last two years, nearly every trip to the area has been bittersweet.  It is always wonderful to see friends and a treat to eat favorite restaurants, its nostalgic to drive by the places we used to frequent and travel the routes that used to be our regulars, but it still always hurt.  Amid the good, there was always a sting of pain for what we left, a heartache for what we had lost, and a wonder what might be going on if we were still there. 

 

After a lovely morning with the ladies’ group, I took off down some familiar country roads to begin an afternoon packed with visits.  The particular road I was driving took me within ½ a block of the elementary school I left for our move.  I loved the staff there, the students and families there, the layout of the building, the community that supported it, and I had the world’s best grade level partner.  I looked forward to my own children attending school there, and truthfully hoped that would be the building I would retire from.  At first, I planned to just stay on the road, but in a split second decision at the stop sign, I turned and slowly drove the block that wraps around the school building.  It brought back a thousand wonderful memories.  Days that made me smile, days that pushed me as an educator, memories of playground duty discussions with my grade-level partner that helped me work through curriculum snags, classroom management struggles, and even parenting advice from an experienced “boy mom.”  And as I turned back on the main road it hit me, I had been covered with waves of joy, and for the first time, driving by my beloved school didn’t make me cry.

My next visit was to our next-door neighbor.  She is so much more than just a neighbor and friend, she was always like having my own mama next door to help me.  And driving to her house also meant driving by ours.  I will admit, I slowed down to be nosy and take it in, as I always do when I drive that way to visit her.  The new owners have changed several things about the look of “our” yard, but the outside of the house still looks the same.  It is the house where we lived for 9 years, the first home we owned, the place were we celebrated and were defeated, where we brought home our first baby, and buried a beloved dog.  Usually driving by takes my breath away and makes me ache, but for the first time, I smiled with sweet memories and then thought of how our life now had totally outgrown that house.  The busy stage our boys are in would have been incredibly cramped there, and there was no barn for a pony.  For the first time, it didn’t hurt.

 

The rest of the day was full of wonderful visits, a favorite restaurant stop, and an evening of fall fun with our closest friends and their kiddos.  We spent several hours together catching up on each other’s lives as the kids played and played.  I could go on for days about the depth of those friendships, but I will also admit that those get togethers have always been hard for me too, because saying good-bye is so incredibly painful and I usually cry for the first part of the way home.  But on Saturday night, for the first time, I left with my heart full, and a smile on my face.  For the first time, instead of crying about what we lost, I was so thankful for what we DIDN’T lose.  Yes, distance steals the amount of time we used to spend together, but two years has proven that distance can’t steal the friendship we share together.  The forever bond we have is unchanged, and the limited time makes the visits that much more precious.

 

I never thought the day would come when the mess would become a message of hope, when the hurt would be replaced with thankfulness for what we had and shared, or when the pain would be a memory instead of a crippling stab.  But on Saturday, I was overwhelmed with joy to find myself in that spot.  The Lord has redeemed it all, and my heart is so very thankful.

 

“Praise the Lord, my soul, and forget not all his benefits- who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things and your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.” Psalm 103: 2-5

Of Few Words

At 15 months old, our sweet (b) still doesn’t use a ton of words that can be clearly understood, but boy does he ever know how to communicate. We are discovering he has a little ornery streak which is often displayed by cutting his eyes around to see if anyone is watching what he is up to, or trying to distract our attention when he is caught doing something he shouldn’t. He likes to point or take you by the hand and lead you to where he wants to go or to what thing he wants. He has no problem swatting something out of your hand or off his highchair tray when he doesn’t want it, and oh the laughter… it is completely infections and consuming when he is trying to be the entertainer or keep up with his big brother. 

 One night this week he woke up crying in the middle of the night. It is fairly unlike him, so I checked for his paci, it was there in the bed with him. I tried to offer a drink- that was swatted away. I tried changing his diaper, he still whimpered. The noise and nightlights woke (A) who came in to check on us. (b) launched himself out of my arms and towards his daddy with a HUGE smile. He then looked directly at me, waved, and said two words he does speak clearly “bye-bye Mama!” Without a lot of words, the communication was pretty clear- the daddy’s boy had found what he wanted, and I was given a free pass to go back to bed (no arguments here!) 

 As I have been watching the political climate of the country, the things said on social media, even situations I have found myself in lately, I think more often that I might need to take some lessons in communication from my toddler. Sometimes, my words need to be few. I can communicate just as much with my actions towards others, or the things I choose NOT to say as I can with the words I do choose to say. And I will admit, sometimes that is a hard pill for me to swallow. All my life, I have never been accused of being short on words. But sometimes, the words simply do not need to be said. If they aren’t going to accomplish anything, they don’t need to be said. If they are falling on deaf ears, they don’t need to be shouted louder. If they may not be understood, don’t risk the misunderstanding.

 I am realizing it is far more powerful at times, to swallow the words, and do something instead. Though I was frustrated with the pencil drama in that 3rd grader’s desk, it was more powerful to simply walk to my supply closet and create a different solution instead of voicing my frustration with his disorganization and the distraction it was causing him. The 4th grader didn’t need to get any farther behind on his math, so instead of reminding him that I was tripping over his belongings for the 6th time of the day, I simply picked them up myself and organized them out of the way (though I wanted to shout to the world how much I need COVID restrictions to go away so we can have student lockers back). As my stress level and frustration levels have been higher than normal, I often find myself wanting to speak more than normal. But I am being reminded that there is no need to join the “noise”, communicate with actions, kind gestures, and holding on to those words instead. 

  “My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.” James 1:19