Prayers and Dr. Suess

My elementary teaching days are like my shadow late in the day.  I can see them but not touch the very top, for they are getting farther away as the sun sets.  My love for Dr. Suess has grown in the absence of the demand.  When I had to read Green Eggs and Ham over and over, my adoration for Suess' wacky nonsense wained.  Now that I am freed of this repetitive responsibility I am finding a renewed appreciation.  I am re-reading our collection of Suess books to my sons.

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I did not expect the impact it would have on our morning prayers.  I started modeling adoration, repentance, and supplication (asking) by praying over our day as we traveled to school.  Recently, my fears of being widowed with two strong-willed boys to raise haunts my thoughts.  How would they learn to shave, change the oil and fix a lawn mower?

So, my deepest worry needed voice in our prayers.  I wanted the boys to know that sometimes prayers are unanswered because God is choosing a trial for us, to make us grow.  I also wanted to make sure they knew that God's will, not our will, is the base of our asking.  (Luke 22:44)  "...and Jesus asked his Father to remove the cup of suffering. Then He surrendered, "Not my will, but yours be done."  

And with that I started ending our prayer with, "if it is your will, please bring us all back home together again tonight."  

This morning, deep in the thorniness of May, I asked the boys to pray as I drove.  The Tall One began thanking God for the natural world, family and friends.  The Little One added a prayer of thanksgiving for chickens.  His innocence shining through his words.  

Then, he closed the prayer with "if it is Your will please keep us safe from here to there and everywhere."  

Dr. Suess influenced supplication. 

I believe I will continue both the read-alouds and the spontaneous prayers led by my boys.  

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

I am officially breaking up with Winter!  It's not Winter's fault.  It's me.  I thought I had the midwestern moxie to find the quirky, numbness of winter fun and adventuresome.  I am not that person anymore.  I think we've just grown apart.  I am ready to move on from snowshoeing, shoveling and 4WD.  I am ready to grow and see new seasons.

Winter, you really must stop snowing and blowing.  Please don't cry anymore freezing rain.  I will always love you.  I will remember fondly your frostiness and glistening drifts.

But, I can't see you anymore, Winter.  It is not healthy for me.  I am weary from shoveling and snow blowing.  It's not you, really.  It's me.  Your beauty sparkles, your flakes form perfectly and your power is mighty.  

                                      You bury me in your icy piles and frosty window panes…

Honestly, I am tired of snowshoeing and sledding.  The intrigue and wonder has worn off.  I have faithfully tromped through your drifts; marveled at your creations.  I have enjoyed our time together, crunching through the woods.  The adventure of an evening hike with headlamps cutting through the dark to highlight the tiny bits of white flakes, was a delightful double date.  I appreciate our time together, the lessons you've taught me and the gifts you brought.  I just can't accept your gifts anymore.

I find myself yearning for something different.  Something you can't give me.  I need to grow.  I need to see more of the world than white drifts and icy piles.

I think I want to hang out with Spring.

Spring and I deserve a chance.  We would like to get to know each other better.  So, Winter, you've been great but I am moving on.  I will always love you.

Facing Eternity in the Eyes of a Friend

How many days do we have to impact this world? Love our families?  Give wisdom? Learn?

Since that answer is cloaked in the gauzy film of unknown I will not speculate.  The veil cannot be lifted to reveal the day of our departure.  I have a friend that is facing a terminal cancer.  She is close to that veil but still she focuses on love, wisdom and life lessons.

I went to console and comfort, armed with homemade cookies.  How does one approach social entertaining with a dear friend with a limited calendar?  Awkward at first I talked too much and listened to little.  I left feeling empty and sad. 

The next visit, again toting homemade, warm cookies, I prayed for peace and comfort for both my friend and myself.  I asked that God would contain my mouth and allow for my emotions to be real.  I prayed I could be a comfort instead of a distraction.  Here is the paradigm shift that God orchestrated. 

As we chatted I carefully listened.  I listened to the horrifying story of her initial diagnosis.  I fully engaged in her story of transformation from healthy breast cancer survivor to terminal cancer victim.  I heard and felt  her anger and frustration.  She transitioned quickly to expressing her desire to make each day count.

I found myself being easily agreeable. As I relaxed, I cuddled up next to her and shared pictures on her Kindle.  Her eyesight is failing due to a bone tumor pressing on her brain.  She wants me to see the newest pictures of all her grandchildren.  She explains that, while I am in the midst of raising my sons, she is free to experience the sheer joy of grandchildren.  She says to hang in there because grandchildren are the true reward of raising good children.

She then looks me straight in the eyes.  She informs me that she is limiting her audience of well wishers and visitors.  It appears that when you reach the time in which you can see the veil blowing in the breeze you truly see the hearts of those around.  She loves more tenderly the husband she’s been married to for decades.  She sees him more clearly and regrets being so strong and a self-reliant.  She embraces her new softness and lets him comfort and dote on her.  These are the last days of her earthly partnership: oneness.

My friend shares with me her new boundary for gossip and negativity.  In light of her limited time on earth, she is unable to stomach any negativity or gossip.  She shares a particularly cheerful and hopeful Bible verse as an example of how she desires to spend her time.  This is the tone of her future days.  She will love her creator, love her family, love her friends and limit any distractions.

 

So, I am challenged by her decree.  How will l decide to live my days; no matter the number?

Working Moms Don't Iron Tablecloths

There are many resources for stay-at-home moms.  There are reams written to justify the executive working mom.   What of the regular, middle-class working moms?  Where are the bloggers, experts and articles catering to the working moms that have to work or choose to work so that their families can have a middle-class income?

Here is what I believe: working moms don’t have time to blog or become an expert on balancing both work and family.  They are baptized in the fiery schedule of working, family, housework, meals and extracurricular activities.  I am one of those middle-class working moms.  I am terribly grateful for my husband’s sacrifice in pay for my education degree.  My degree and subsequent employment at our local public school has been the financial stability we needed over the last decade of economic depression. 

Here is a list of things I don’t do that my fraternal grandmother spent time doing:

Working Moms don’t…

1.     iron tablecloths

2.     iron sheets

3.     iron shirts or pants

4.     hand mop the kitchen floor

5.     wipe down baseboards

6.     bake homemade cookies

7.     make cupcakes for school birthday parties

8.     mend/darn socks

9.     make bread from scratch

10. homeschool their children

Working moms are happy to have a warm meal on a clean tablecloth; unironed!

Working moms are relieved that the sheets are dry by bedtime.

Working moms are masters of using a damp cloth, dryer sheet and the “dewrinkle” setting on the dryer.

Working moms use swiffers (or a damp rag and their foot).

Working moms scrub baseboards when it’s time to repaint them.

Working moms buy cookies at the grocery store in a tube of doughy yumminess.

Working moms are proud to stimulate the economy and buy cupcakes at the bakery.

Working moms can’t find the match to the holey sock anyway.

Working moms use their bread machines or visit the bakery on the way home (again).

Working moms trust the school systems to give their kids a solid education of basics.

Working moms are masters at short cuts and paring down life to its most essential. 

Working moms have good kids that are independent, confident team players.

Working moms have mad skills at work and at home.

Christmas...season of giving or season of wanting?

Christmas is a special time of year for Christians.  

Aside from the obligatory family parties, church services, shopping, gift wrapping and cookie making there is a Facebook-Pinterest standard that adds a unique pressure.  I am much like any other person with a Facebook account.  I post pictures of the graceful moments in my life.  I post the champions and the glories.  I also read my friend’s posts of glory and advantage.  Then we have to combat the television and all the ads; driving our desires beyond reason.

This year I was challenged by a book written by Ann Voskamp, The Greatest Gift.  However, this challenge was not a good feeling; it did not present a clear path.  It was a challenge!  This season I am taking a breaking from social media as I see that it is creating anxiety that clouds the reason I celebrate.  So, I hung my christmas upside down.  I did not anticipate the revolt and mutiny that would be my payment for such a spiritual revelation.

            My focus needed to be rerouted from the commercialism and materialism so everpresent on social media.  I need to watch Charles Schultz’s Charlie Brown Christmas.  I needed Linus to pontificate and remind me of the reason for the season.  Dave Ramsey would be proud but my sons were less than impressed with their gifts.  

            Now I find myself reverting emotionally in these post Christmas days of sales, opportunities lost and social media posts showing the glory given by people to the ones they love.  Do I not love my people as much?  Should I have purchased different gifts; more gifts? More, More and More!

            Have I fashioned materialistic children or are we all programmed this way?  How do I curb this incessant need for bigger, better, more, more, and more?  I have participated in Samaritan’s Purse Christmas Shoebox; donated clothing and toys with my young sons and done anonymous gift cards to those that need as extra bump during the holidays.  The Tall One and the Little One see our family’s frugality and financial responsibility first hand. 

How do I teach them that our daily sacrifice is not just a slight to them personally?  Teach: to show or explain to someone how to do something, to learn or understand something by example or experience.  I will teach and continue to review the curriculum laid out by my God in the Bible.  I will re-teach without attending to the complaints, and whining.  Teach my sons to fully understand the meaning of the Greatest Gift, Jesus. (Psst! it isn't Nerf guns, mini-bikes or snowboards).

Summer Reading Review 2013

Earlier this summer I read an autobiography written by Lyssa Chapman, Walking on Eggshells: Discovering Strength and Courage Amid Chaos. She is the 7th child of “Dog” the Bounty Hunter. It is a popular show about the family bounty hunting business on A & E. Her poignant retell of her lost childhood and the struggles of family addictions and narcissism was startling. She is an inspiration and a survivor. This book was a refreshing start to my summer reading. An unplanned read but nevertheless edifying and valuable.

 Next I sped through Irene Nemirovsky’s Suite Francaise. It is a compilation of two incomplete novels by Ms. Nemirovsky, who died in the Auschwitz Concentration Camp during the Nazi occupation of France (WWII). The journals and beginnings of the books are translated by Sandra Smith with integrity. I especially enjoyed the maps provided and the character development in book one, Storm in June, and book two, Dolce. This novel was a rare look into the sociology and psychology of the fleeing French during the early days of WWII. I was better for reading this book.

 Lastly, I read, or listened to, Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom. Admittedly, I needed to read this book for my upcoming Senior English class. I was moved to tears, chastised by my own callousness and encouraged by the life lessons that I could impart to my students. This book is a necessity for anyone choosing to live instead of just exist. As a working mom, I exist, or survive, much of the time. Listening to this book during my “walking” workouts and then again in my kitchen canning beans with my husband brought me a sense of calm and purposeful enjoyment of my very full life.

 Next I might tackle something light and fun or Steinbeck’s The Pearl.