In the Middle of the Mess

Our sweet (b) is currently in a stage of professional mess making. It really doesn’t matter what you think you have given him in terms of tidiness or things to keep him occupied- he will find a way to make a huge mess in about 3 seconds flat. Sometimes it happens when we turn our heads, other times he is just so fast it happens right before your eyes. Some of his favorite victims are my cabinets (cause those two boys have already rigged the locks we put on them), drawers full of freshly folded clothes, and many kinds of food. He is also a magnet for mud, pony manure, and crunchy leaves. On Sunday evening, (A) had to go to church to livestream his Bible study lesson and (a) announced he wanted “the boys and Mama” to watch a Christmas movie. He also asked specifically for popcorn during the movie. They both love popcorn, so I didn’t mind at all to fix them each a bowl. What I didn’t plan on though, was how many times I would have the broom out during the course of the movie. I promise Mama’s no dummy, but that kid is FAST!! And if I’m being honest, I think more popcorn was consumed off the floor than from his bowl. Before I started sweeping for the third time, I decided I would snap his picture. In the middle of the mess, he was so very happy and unphased by the disaster he had created. As soon as he realized I had my phone out, he started his ornery grin and announcing “cheese.” There really is good stuff sometimes in the middle of a mess.

 Last weekend, we were supposed to have taken a short trip to visit some family, but some illness cancelled our plans at the very last minute. Friday evening I was so bummed. We rented a movie (side note- we really don’t watch movies every night haha, but a LOT has been cancelled lately, the weather is getting cold, and it gets dark here by 5:00, so our family fun options are becoming limited!) (A) lit a beautiful fire in the basement fireplace to help lift my spirits, and (a) decided he would set up their little chairs in his own movie theater style. As I sat on the couch feeling sorry for myself and the plans I had been looking forward to for weeks, I couldn’t help but notice how cute the boys were in the little set-up they had created themselves. Happy to be having “family night” all together. In the middle of what I just saw as a big mess, there really was some good stuff. 

 God has gently been reminding me, that sometimes there is purpose in mess. Though we may not see it at the time, there is “good stuff” there or He is using it to His glory. Over the past couple months, I have had the opportunity to share, in a few different formats, the story of two of the biggest “messes” our family has walked through. At the time they were so incredibly painful and I couldn’t always see the purpose in them or the reason why they were happening. I just saw a great big, painful mess. Though I wasn’t always sure why, God made it clear to me on the other side that I needed to share those stories with others. In doing that, I have received some very precious notes and a few conversations that have moved me deeply. Some were from people I dearly love, and one was a total stranger who happened to be at my speaking engagement. But they all shared how much they needed to hear that story or how touched they were by it, how much it meant in the middle of a mess they were living through to see that God has a plan to bring you through. In the middle of what I saw as just a painful mess, God was making some good stuff for me to share later. 

 While the next several weeks look uncertain in our area, and probably yours to, I’m sure I am going to look around sometimes and see mess. Christmas is not going to look the same as usual, it’s likely school will soon look even more different than it does now, there may be some hard days ahead of us. I’m pretty sure that to me, some days it will look like a big mess. But I’m going to keep looking harder, because I just know in the middle of that mess, there WILL be some good stuff.

 “and provide for those who grieve in Zion- to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.” Isaiah 61: 3

Preparing

 Yesterday, (A) and I were fortunate to have a rare day together for just the two of us.  We were both off work for Veteran’s Day (THANK YOU veterans for your service and sacrifice, we are so very thankful for you!) and since it was midweek the boys were still able to go to daycare.  When we discovered a few weeks ago that we were going to get to spend the day together, I was so excited that a million possibilities swirled through my mind of what we might do.  In a way it was tempting to want to catch up on some rest in a quiet house, I thought about fun places we could go for the day, but when it came down to it, we decided what we really needed was a day of preparation for upcoming events in the next few months.

 

It is very rare that we have the chance to do any Christmas shopping together, so though part of me felt like it was early, we went ahead and took care of the boys’ stockings (while my favorite store with a “dollar spot” was still well stocked with Christmas goodies).  Since (a) is at an age where he notices commercials, and consequently asks for EVERYTHING he sees on those commercials, we strolled the toy aisles of a couple stores together looking at the many things on (a)’s list to consider possibilities, compare prices, and rule out several totally impractical requests.  We also tried to prepare our minds and find some options for what on earth to get (b) who is beyond thrilled with an empty box and a full sippy cup.  As we shopped, I just kept commenting that I couldn’t believe that we were already preparing for Christmas.

 

Another important stop for our day was the furniture store.  While we are still months away from the arrival of baby #3, we are trying to prepare for what that means in terms of space.  The boys are going to move into a bedroom together so the baby can move into the nursery.  I had been doing some online shopping and found a loft/trundle bed set that matches the furniture currently in the “cowboy room”, but I wanted to see it in person.  As we considered possibilities and whether or not to order something right now, we discovered the timeline for furniture was running several weeks out, and then add on that we want the boys to have a little time to adjust to their new setup before baby… if we wanted to be prepared it was time to go ahead and order.  As we walked out of the furniture store I again mentioned, that I couldn’t believe we were already preparing for baby, it still seems so far away. 

 

As the evening went on, we got (A) on the road to Louisville in preparation for morning meetings today, the boys and I spent some time at school preparing for the next few days in my classroom and virtual classroom, and (a) and I even had some extra barn help when (b) decided he wanted to help prepare the pony’s feed.  Once the boys were in bed, I found myself sneaking in bags I didn’t want them to see and finding hiding spots I HOPE to are too high up to be found.  I still just kept thinking about how crazy it seemed to already be preparing for events that are weeks and months away, but because we love our little ones, we are preparing now so that when the time comes, everything will be wonderful.

Pretty cute barn help preparing feed

 As I thought about our preparations for Christmas and a baby, it really hit me.  God loved us so much, that he spent thousands of years preparing for that first Christmas, and that perfect baby.  He was preparing for just the right point in time, just the right people to tell, just the right followers to take His message all over the world.  Preparation isn’t just work that has to be done, or a list of tasks to check off, preparation is an act of love.  And I am so thankful He loves me enough that He is still preparing for me.

 

“My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?” John 14:2

Growing Up

 For the first time ever, I had the day off for Election Day this week (something new instituted by our governor this past summer).  I took went to the polls early that morning at a few minutes after 7 to vote, and then headed to the dr for a three- hour blood glucose test.  As I sat through the long wait, I had to laugh at myself about how I would have been spending a mid-week day off school 15 or 20 years ago when I would have planned a day trip or some other adventure.  I jokingly sent a picture to a handful of social media friends about how the “adventures” of grown-up life didn’t sound so excitingly adventurous anymore.  The highlight of my day was stopping by a secondhand store that afternoon and finding an AMAZING deal on a jogging stroller in excellent condition.  Yes, being a grown-up is a whole different perspective.

The switch off of Daylight Savings Time this weekend is now bringing the dark much earlier, and some evenings we aren’t home before dark to transition Snoopy from his outside lot to his stall in the barn.  Because of this, I have been concerned that the earlier dark would keep (a) from being very helpful with his pony since he isn’t a big fan of being outside after dark (he is my mini-me after all).  One evening early in the week I got the chance to find out.  We arrived home around 5:15 and it was already quite dark.  I quickly changed out of my school clothes and told him to change to his barn boots.  Surprisingly there was no argument about the dark.  As we headed toward the barn I let him choose if he would like to clean out the stall or mix feed- I would take care of the opposite chore.  He chose stall cleaning.  As I turned on the barn lights I still had my doubts if he would really do it and do a good job once I was in the other part of the barn getting feed and he was by himself with the dark all around him.  But to my amazement, he just counted the piles before starting (it is a very weird habit he has) and got to business.  When I returned with the bucket of mixed grain I was shocked and pleased to find he was still working, and actually doing a very good job.  As we finished up chores and latched the gates for the night, I put my arm around him and asked when he grew-up on me.  He looked up and laughed and announced that he didn’t know.  I don’t either.  But watching him grow up has given me a whole different perspective. 

 As I fed them dinner that night, I was a little shocked that two little boys could put away an entire container of mac n cheese by themselves.  (Don’t judge my heat and serve container- school nights are crazy and I have to avoid carbs, so heat and serve sides are a pretty great gig on nights (A) is in meetings haha!)  While I found myself a little astonished at the amount of food they had just consumed as a side dish, I couldn’t get over how grown up they seemed.  While I still think of (b) as my baby, his bottles and baby food making supplies have long been put away, he feeds himself with a spoon (ok, not very well, but he at least digs around at the food with a spoon and uses it to shove the food up onto his hand), and clearly communicates when he wants a second, third, and fourth helping of mac n cheese.  Whether I want to admit it or not, he is growing up.  And parenting as they grow up is giving me a whole different perspective. 

 Every stage of life is a new perspective- whether finding excitement at voting and second-hand deals, or finding myself baffled at the responsibility level and appetite of my little boys.  Growing up can be bittersweet, but I choose the sweet.  Finding the blessings in what life has brought me with age, and the joy of watching them grow and develop into who God is making them to be- it is all a part of growing up.

 

“When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.  When I became a man, I gave up childish ways.” 1 Corinthians 13:11

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

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