I want to cry.
Pharaoh, Pharaoh was playing this morning as I was arriving to practice with the praise team before church. Today was homecoming and the Stick Kids were performing; since Megan is a member I know the song and danced to it along with the kids. I was there ready to praise and worship and for me this means having fun.
There was a lady there (whom I don't much care for) who turned to my friend and said "doesn't she know we're in church? She should not be dancing like that in here!"
When Sherri told me what she said I laughed it off and Sherri and I decided to continue dancing just to irritate her. Yes I know...I'm spiteful and immature.
Sherri had a great attitude about this, she said "if she thinks we shouldn't dance in church then we obviously aren't moving around enough". Allow to say this woman never comes to the 8:30 (contemporary service) and now perhaps I know why. We work hard to fill His house with energy and excite people to go out into His world and do His work.
That's what my brain was trying to emphasize.
My heart is aching.
Is it me? Am I immature? Should I act more grown-up? I know I make a lot of statements that I think to myself "did I just say that out loud?" Should I be taking life more seriously? Perhaps I should settle down and act my age....
I put everything I have and everything I am in to my family, job, Jesus. I live out loud and don't hold back. Should I be less vocal? Should I hold back? Should I be more refined and sophisticated? I know my children, husband, and boss would appreciate it if I kept my mouth shut and "behaved".
It's the timeless question : when do I have to start acting my age? I'm not really sure I want to if that means I too end up with the attitude of "don't dance in church", but if that's what I'm supposed to do I guess I'll start.
Just don't expect me to be happy anymore.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Reflections of Summer part III
Our last stop was to the beach. We vacation every year at Oak Island here in NC. It is a family beach with one putt-putt, one grocery store, just a handful of restaurants, one Dairy Queen, and safe enough to ride bikes anywhere with out the need of a helmet because car traffic is almost non-existent.
We have stayed in the same house for the past five years so it holds a lot of memories - 98% good, but a couple of scary moments thrown into the mix. (Like the year Warren's blood sugar dropped too low after being on the beach all day and the manager of the grocery store called me to because he had passed out and hit it head and was bleeding and vomiting. I was frantic and had to get to him quickly - problem was, he had the car! So I ran to the neighbors and they dropped what they were doing to take me to him. You see, in a place like Oak Island, there are no strangers.)
This year I found myself more at peace than ever before there. I would watch the waves crash, and the girls play, and take long walks with the love of my life just like I always do, but this year there was no anxiety.
This will sound crazy, but I believe it was due to Face Book. I have resolved several issues with people from my past through this tool. Some times I asked forgiveness of people and other times I would ask why a hurtful event happened. I have been able to let go of a lot of baggage that I held on to for a long time and that release has allowed me to find peace. I didn't realize this until watching those waves, taking those walks, and looking for those shells.
The beauty of God's world around me felt different this year. It felt free.
We have stayed in the same house for the past five years so it holds a lot of memories - 98% good, but a couple of scary moments thrown into the mix. (Like the year Warren's blood sugar dropped too low after being on the beach all day and the manager of the grocery store called me to because he had passed out and hit it head and was bleeding and vomiting. I was frantic and had to get to him quickly - problem was, he had the car! So I ran to the neighbors and they dropped what they were doing to take me to him. You see, in a place like Oak Island, there are no strangers.)
This year I found myself more at peace than ever before there. I would watch the waves crash, and the girls play, and take long walks with the love of my life just like I always do, but this year there was no anxiety.
This will sound crazy, but I believe it was due to Face Book. I have resolved several issues with people from my past through this tool. Some times I asked forgiveness of people and other times I would ask why a hurtful event happened. I have been able to let go of a lot of baggage that I held on to for a long time and that release has allowed me to find peace. I didn't realize this until watching those waves, taking those walks, and looking for those shells.
The beauty of God's world around me felt different this year. It felt free.
Reflections of Summer Part II
Our Next adventure was to Tennessee to visit my cousin and her family. Kim is really special and I loved having her all to myself ever if it was only for a few days.
Growing up basically an only child I always regarded her as a sister, whether she knows this or not I don't know. She has always just accepted me, mistakes and all. She has made her share of mistakes too and while we never talk about them, I think the similarity of our experiences draws us together even closer with an unspoken bond.
We went horseback riding along a mountain trail - which was very muddy and at time far scarier then we had planned on. We hung out by the pool and watched the kids swim while chatting about nothing in particular. And we went hiking in the Smokey Mountains. For me this was the best day because we just walked and enjoyed life with no pressure to do or say anything except take in the beauty God put before us.
I was so blessed that week and so thankful.
Growing up basically an only child I always regarded her as a sister, whether she knows this or not I don't know. She has always just accepted me, mistakes and all. She has made her share of mistakes too and while we never talk about them, I think the similarity of our experiences draws us together even closer with an unspoken bond.
We went horseback riding along a mountain trail - which was very muddy and at time far scarier then we had planned on. We hung out by the pool and watched the kids swim while chatting about nothing in particular. And we went hiking in the Smokey Mountains. For me this was the best day because we just walked and enjoyed life with no pressure to do or say anything except take in the beauty God put before us.
I was so blessed that week and so thankful.
Reflections of Summer
This summer I have done a lot of traveling. The first stop was to Savannah to visit my parents.
I say parents, but I don't think Will really considers me his step-daughter as he always introduces me as "Cindy's daughter". To me he is (beside my grandpa) the only real dad I've had. For years prior to their marriage, he was the one I often looked to for help and guidance and he was always there. I love to spend time with him and he is the only grandfather my girls have - they love him soo much and are always so excited to get to spend time with him.
Beside the great sunsets and beautiful scenery, the most beautiful thing I saw in Savannah this summer was him. It was Sunday morning at the end of church and the congregation sang "Here I am Lord". They had some sign language type movements that went with it and I looked over to Will to see if he would do them - doubting he would because that just isn't his thing. As I watched him, tears rolled down my face. He was lifting his arms, eyes, and heart to the Lord. Never have I seen him so raw - every bit of his soul exposed. I was the most beautiful thing I have seen this summer and is forever etched into my memory and soul.
I say parents, but I don't think Will really considers me his step-daughter as he always introduces me as "Cindy's daughter". To me he is (beside my grandpa) the only real dad I've had. For years prior to their marriage, he was the one I often looked to for help and guidance and he was always there. I love to spend time with him and he is the only grandfather my girls have - they love him soo much and are always so excited to get to spend time with him.
Beside the great sunsets and beautiful scenery, the most beautiful thing I saw in Savannah this summer was him. It was Sunday morning at the end of church and the congregation sang "Here I am Lord". They had some sign language type movements that went with it and I looked over to Will to see if he would do them - doubting he would because that just isn't his thing. As I watched him, tears rolled down my face. He was lifting his arms, eyes, and heart to the Lord. Never have I seen him so raw - every bit of his soul exposed. I was the most beautiful thing I have seen this summer and is forever etched into my memory and soul.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
What I want
Warren and I are thinking about buying a lake house but we just can't decide...something feels off. I think of all the other places we could spend our money. And I feel like we are giving upon our dream of a house at the beach. I feel so close to God there.
I grew up with a lake house. I have so many great memories of my summers there on Jimmerson Lake in Indiana. Playing out side long after dark, chasing fireflies, fishing off the dock, taking my little 16' aluminum bout out and reading in a cove where the otters played, jumping off of the dam and swimming under it when the water was low enough. The friends who didn't know me from "home" so I wasn't stereotyped I was just me. Sitting by the outdoor fireplace long before they were in fashion and listening to the latest record that was bought - when Michael Jackson was cool...swimming out to the swim raft and climbing up on to it before the little fishes could nibble at my toes - that always tickled and freaked me out!
I thought I wanted my girls to have these same kind of memories. But then I went on the internet and looked a pictures of the houses there and was flooded by memories.
I just realized what I really want is to go back to that time for myself. Right now. The urge and desire is so strong tears are burning my eyes. I loved that place...those friends...the way my family interacted when we were there. It was like we were all different people there - I loved who we were.
I need to let go of the desire to make my memories the girl's memories. I need to create the best memories for MY family now.
But boy do I wish I could go back to those lazy days at the lake!
I grew up with a lake house. I have so many great memories of my summers there on Jimmerson Lake in Indiana. Playing out side long after dark, chasing fireflies, fishing off the dock, taking my little 16' aluminum bout out and reading in a cove where the otters played, jumping off of the dam and swimming under it when the water was low enough. The friends who didn't know me from "home" so I wasn't stereotyped I was just me. Sitting by the outdoor fireplace long before they were in fashion and listening to the latest record that was bought - when Michael Jackson was cool...swimming out to the swim raft and climbing up on to it before the little fishes could nibble at my toes - that always tickled and freaked me out!
I thought I wanted my girls to have these same kind of memories. But then I went on the internet and looked a pictures of the houses there and was flooded by memories.
I just realized what I really want is to go back to that time for myself. Right now. The urge and desire is so strong tears are burning my eyes. I loved that place...those friends...the way my family interacted when we were there. It was like we were all different people there - I loved who we were.
I need to let go of the desire to make my memories the girl's memories. I need to create the best memories for MY family now.
But boy do I wish I could go back to those lazy days at the lake!
Friday, June 19, 2009
Nature is Harsh
I know, I know, a couple of days ago I wrote about how nature makes my heart stop. Last night it made it not only stop, but break.
The family of owls (5 that I can count) was hunting at their normal time and I was watching with awe as I usually do. I was looking up at my song bird feeding area and watching the mama cardinal take a break from her nest I saw the feeders were low so I went to fill them As I walked from the garage around the side of the house I caught the owls grabbing the two babies from her nest. I don't know where papa was. Perhaps they had eaten him as well.
I chased the owls away and ran to the nest to find it empty. Mama returned to discover the same thing and flew to a nearby tree to begin calling to papa. There was no answer.
During the night at roughly 30 minute intervals mama would call out to her family. It was so sad. This morning there is no chirping for me to hear. I have very few birds at the feeders. I don't think the cardinal family was the only casualty last night. My yard is filled with sorrow and my heart breaks for all of those parents that lost their children last night.
Warren says they'll lay new eggs and life will go on but I don't thin it is that easy. I truly feel these birds morning their loss. I don't think this is any easier for the animal kingdom than it is for us.
Hearts break and nature is harsh.
The family of owls (5 that I can count) was hunting at their normal time and I was watching with awe as I usually do. I was looking up at my song bird feeding area and watching the mama cardinal take a break from her nest I saw the feeders were low so I went to fill them As I walked from the garage around the side of the house I caught the owls grabbing the two babies from her nest. I don't know where papa was. Perhaps they had eaten him as well.
I chased the owls away and ran to the nest to find it empty. Mama returned to discover the same thing and flew to a nearby tree to begin calling to papa. There was no answer.
During the night at roughly 30 minute intervals mama would call out to her family. It was so sad. This morning there is no chirping for me to hear. I have very few birds at the feeders. I don't think the cardinal family was the only casualty last night. My yard is filled with sorrow and my heart breaks for all of those parents that lost their children last night.
Warren says they'll lay new eggs and life will go on but I don't thin it is that easy. I truly feel these birds morning their loss. I don't think this is any easier for the animal kingdom than it is for us.
Hearts break and nature is harsh.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
For about the past 30 years I have loathed Father’s Day. Since the girls have come in to our lives I’ve suffered silently and cried alone – I didn’t want to ruin it for Warren. Why do I hate it so much? For those of you who don’t know my story, my father died on Father’s Day when I was 7. I was sitting on his lap and we were laughing when he had a massive heart attack – the second in 3 years.
There is a quote by Anne Sexton that I love; “It doesn’t matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.” Unfortunately for me, those memories have faded over the years and I am left with pictures that I cherish to try and remember. Sometimes I make up stories to go with the pictures and try to fool myself that I really do remember. But, who he was to me is burned in to my soul. He was a kind, compassionate, and gentle man. He was a patient man but could be quick tempered – and boy was it a temper – with those who should have known better. He loved the Lord and he was crazy in love with me.
It took the Emmaus weekends and Family to help me overcome my anger and bitterness at God for yanking him away from me before we were finished. But I continue to wonder even know; is that how people felt when Jesus was taken? The disciples? Mary Magdalene, Mary, His earthly family? All of his followers? On and on and on…Did they feel cheated? Did they feel robbed, that their time together was too short – that they weren’t finished? There was so much more to learn and do! Did they beg God for just a little more time… just a little bit longer…please? Did we share the same anger, frustration and bitterness?
Why? Why when we love God and worship him do we have to feel this way? Is it right? No. Is it fair? No. Is it love? Yes. As crazy as it sounds, God is crazy about us – just as my father was crazy about me. As we’re told in Matthew 10:30 He knows how many hairs are on our head – now that is a Father’s love!
My father taught me many things, and although it took me 27 years; how to cope, deal with and live through pain was one of them. How I chose to live my life is a tribute to the rest of his lessons. Jesus’ followers had to learn the same lessons. While our lessons are sometime one’s we would rather avoid, our Father – earthly and more importantly Heavenly – has laid the foundation in our hearts that allow us to be reflections of their love.
Like many people, I often would wonder why God let bad things happen until one day I visualized a picture hanging in my mom’s house. It states “God doesn’t promise us an easy life, He promises us help to live it.” As the years have passed I have grown to understand what many of Jesus’ followers did also in the time following the crucifixion: God doesn’t let bad things happen, but He is with us while they are happening. We have to acknowledge His presence and thank him, not for the bad things, but for being with us, helping us through it. That’s what family does. That’s what my Fathers do for me – it just so happens they’re both doing it from heaven.
So, I don’t loathe Father’s Day any more, we really don’t make a big deal out of it. We go to church, much like every Sunday, but I worship differently, more deeply. I spend a lot of time talking to my Heavenly Father through out the day. He’s as crazy about me as I am Him. I’m definitely a “Daddy’s Girl”.
There is a quote by Anne Sexton that I love; “It doesn’t matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.” Unfortunately for me, those memories have faded over the years and I am left with pictures that I cherish to try and remember. Sometimes I make up stories to go with the pictures and try to fool myself that I really do remember. But, who he was to me is burned in to my soul. He was a kind, compassionate, and gentle man. He was a patient man but could be quick tempered – and boy was it a temper – with those who should have known better. He loved the Lord and he was crazy in love with me.
It took the Emmaus weekends and Family to help me overcome my anger and bitterness at God for yanking him away from me before we were finished. But I continue to wonder even know; is that how people felt when Jesus was taken? The disciples? Mary Magdalene, Mary, His earthly family? All of his followers? On and on and on…Did they feel cheated? Did they feel robbed, that their time together was too short – that they weren’t finished? There was so much more to learn and do! Did they beg God for just a little more time… just a little bit longer…please? Did we share the same anger, frustration and bitterness?
Why? Why when we love God and worship him do we have to feel this way? Is it right? No. Is it fair? No. Is it love? Yes. As crazy as it sounds, God is crazy about us – just as my father was crazy about me. As we’re told in Matthew 10:30 He knows how many hairs are on our head – now that is a Father’s love!
My father taught me many things, and although it took me 27 years; how to cope, deal with and live through pain was one of them. How I chose to live my life is a tribute to the rest of his lessons. Jesus’ followers had to learn the same lessons. While our lessons are sometime one’s we would rather avoid, our Father – earthly and more importantly Heavenly – has laid the foundation in our hearts that allow us to be reflections of their love.
Like many people, I often would wonder why God let bad things happen until one day I visualized a picture hanging in my mom’s house. It states “God doesn’t promise us an easy life, He promises us help to live it.” As the years have passed I have grown to understand what many of Jesus’ followers did also in the time following the crucifixion: God doesn’t let bad things happen, but He is with us while they are happening. We have to acknowledge His presence and thank him, not for the bad things, but for being with us, helping us through it. That’s what family does. That’s what my Fathers do for me – it just so happens they’re both doing it from heaven.
So, I don’t loathe Father’s Day any more, we really don’t make a big deal out of it. We go to church, much like every Sunday, but I worship differently, more deeply. I spend a lot of time talking to my Heavenly Father through out the day. He’s as crazy about me as I am Him. I’m definitely a “Daddy’s Girl”.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Why...
I live in a beautiful place and with all of the rain we've had this summer nature is really incredible!
I have a deer and an owl that come to my yard to eat every evening. There is a hawk that roosts on my children's play set and a nest of Cardinals in the Butterfly Bush beneath my daughters window.
Every day that I see them it makes my heart flutter - it is so exciting. I wonder why that never gets old for me? I sit and wait for them and each night when they appear and every morning when they begin to sing I get giddy.
I can't even believe that heaven will be more beautiful than this!
I have a deer and an owl that come to my yard to eat every evening. There is a hawk that roosts on my children's play set and a nest of Cardinals in the Butterfly Bush beneath my daughters window.
Every day that I see them it makes my heart flutter - it is so exciting. I wonder why that never gets old for me? I sit and wait for them and each night when they appear and every morning when they begin to sing I get giddy.
I can't even believe that heaven will be more beautiful than this!
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Beautiful eyes and a kind face
This story is long overdue, in fact if my friend Tom were to write it the words would be more eloquent...
Warren and I were headed off to the beach over Memorial Day weekend with some friends. This was the first time we had ever left the girls like this so naturally there was some apprehension. This got off to a great start and conversation was effortless.
At the half way mark, we stopped at a gas station / Wendy's combo. for something to eat. Being carsick dictated that I needed something salty and a coke - not that I'm high maintenance at all...
As we were walking in I noticed an old, very used but still in great condition, Army duffel bag laying next to the door. My mind began to wonder....a motor cycle rider? Someone hitching a ride up 95 with a trucker?
Everyone headed straight to the bathroom, but I went to stand in line...the coke was calling.
As I stood alone I saw him. He had the kindest eyes I'd ever seen and his blond hair was full of curls that any woman with straight hair would kill for! And he was dirty. Not dirty from lack of bathing, but road grim. I knew who the owner of the duffel bag was. He met my gaze and I smiled. He smiled back a little tentatively. I don't know what the hold up was in the bathrooms, but the line to the counter was moving quickly and neither Warren nor our friends were out of the bathroom so I stepped aside and let people pass.
I offed to let "kind eyes" pass, but he declined. Said he was waiting for someone too...
My "posse" finally appeared and we ordered. I kept watching "kind eyes" to see if his companion ever showed up, but no one did. As Warren was filling paper ketchup bowls I whispered to him that we needed to buy the man dinner. Warren asked who I was talking about and I met "kind Eyes" gaze again and smiled and said "him". I started to walk toward him, but Warren called my back and said he would take care of it. He didn't want me to go offer some deranged serial killer dinner. I knew the man would never hurt me. His eyes told it all. And his smile was so gentle. Warren went over and began talking with the man, quickly putting him at ease as is his way and I went to sit down with our friends.
When Warren joined us he was upset that he hadn't noticed the man himself, but was thankful that we had helped him. I was thankful Warren was my husband. He didn't laugh or scoff at my suggestion, but followed through with an open heart. We blessed the meal and lifted a special prayer for "kind eyes" in his journey.
As we ate, "Kind eyes" met my gaze and offered his thanks. I wanted to invite him over to eat with us and still regret that I didn't. Before we left I refilled my coke and walked past him (which was my intention) so that I could offer him one last smile. He looked up, with his eyes fully of love and said "thank you" I just gave a smiling nod and said "be safe". I hope my smile radiated all of the love that was bursting from my heart for this man.
As I think about this man still I wish I would have hugged him good-bye. I hope my eyes and smile did this for me. I think about him often and wonder where he is. I hope he finds others to help him. I know when he said he was waiting for someone he was waiting for me. I hope the others he is waiting for will notice him beyond the clothing and road grime.
His beautiful eyes and kind smile still haunt me. But not in a bad way, rather they comfort me. I know he was Jesus. I know he was there to say I needed you here and you came. I thought about him all weekend away from the girls and knew I could not have served this man if I wouldn't have left them.
I saw God that day.
Warren and I were headed off to the beach over Memorial Day weekend with some friends. This was the first time we had ever left the girls like this so naturally there was some apprehension. This got off to a great start and conversation was effortless.
At the half way mark, we stopped at a gas station / Wendy's combo. for something to eat. Being carsick dictated that I needed something salty and a coke - not that I'm high maintenance at all...
As we were walking in I noticed an old, very used but still in great condition, Army duffel bag laying next to the door. My mind began to wonder....a motor cycle rider? Someone hitching a ride up 95 with a trucker?
Everyone headed straight to the bathroom, but I went to stand in line...the coke was calling.
As I stood alone I saw him. He had the kindest eyes I'd ever seen and his blond hair was full of curls that any woman with straight hair would kill for! And he was dirty. Not dirty from lack of bathing, but road grim. I knew who the owner of the duffel bag was. He met my gaze and I smiled. He smiled back a little tentatively. I don't know what the hold up was in the bathrooms, but the line to the counter was moving quickly and neither Warren nor our friends were out of the bathroom so I stepped aside and let people pass.
I offed to let "kind eyes" pass, but he declined. Said he was waiting for someone too...
My "posse" finally appeared and we ordered. I kept watching "kind eyes" to see if his companion ever showed up, but no one did. As Warren was filling paper ketchup bowls I whispered to him that we needed to buy the man dinner. Warren asked who I was talking about and I met "kind Eyes" gaze again and smiled and said "him". I started to walk toward him, but Warren called my back and said he would take care of it. He didn't want me to go offer some deranged serial killer dinner. I knew the man would never hurt me. His eyes told it all. And his smile was so gentle. Warren went over and began talking with the man, quickly putting him at ease as is his way and I went to sit down with our friends.
When Warren joined us he was upset that he hadn't noticed the man himself, but was thankful that we had helped him. I was thankful Warren was my husband. He didn't laugh or scoff at my suggestion, but followed through with an open heart. We blessed the meal and lifted a special prayer for "kind eyes" in his journey.
As we ate, "Kind eyes" met my gaze and offered his thanks. I wanted to invite him over to eat with us and still regret that I didn't. Before we left I refilled my coke and walked past him (which was my intention) so that I could offer him one last smile. He looked up, with his eyes fully of love and said "thank you" I just gave a smiling nod and said "be safe". I hope my smile radiated all of the love that was bursting from my heart for this man.
As I think about this man still I wish I would have hugged him good-bye. I hope my eyes and smile did this for me. I think about him often and wonder where he is. I hope he finds others to help him. I know when he said he was waiting for someone he was waiting for me. I hope the others he is waiting for will notice him beyond the clothing and road grime.
His beautiful eyes and kind smile still haunt me. But not in a bad way, rather they comfort me. I know he was Jesus. I know he was there to say I needed you here and you came. I thought about him all weekend away from the girls and knew I could not have served this man if I wouldn't have left them.
I saw God that day.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
As Time Goes By
I've had a rush of feelings over the past two weeks. Relief, pain, disappointment, joy, frustration...I could continue but instead let me start.
Once I was on the operating table, opened up, the doctor realized the tumor was not where he thought it was and things took a complicated twist. A urologist was called in to assist him with the removal and things went well.
As I lay in the hospital bed, loopy from the morphine, I was astounded by the number of my students that came to see me. They were not afraid only curious and gentle. Their parents were kind and comforting to them as well as me. My family came often and we were all overjoyed when the pathology report came back clean - Aah, relief!
Then came the pain as I began to have a severe reaction to the morphine. The headache was unbearable and I could keep no food down, my temperature began to rise, and fear set in for Warren because he lost a dear friend just the week before who died from complications following a simple routine surgery--she to had all of my symptoms and he was frightened...During this time I remember my friend Tom coming in to see me. I remember pain on his face and he seemed preoccupied, rushed, anxious...I wanted to comfort him and ask what was wrong, but my mind just wouldn't let my lips form the words.
There was joy when I got better and was able to come home and the healing process has been slow, painful, and frustrating. I can't figure out what I do that makes me feel so bad the next day. There is no pattern so I don't know what to avoid doing. Often is seems that doing nothing is eventually as painful as doing everything...
And this is where this story ends now as my words have upset far too many people!
Once I was on the operating table, opened up, the doctor realized the tumor was not where he thought it was and things took a complicated twist. A urologist was called in to assist him with the removal and things went well.
As I lay in the hospital bed, loopy from the morphine, I was astounded by the number of my students that came to see me. They were not afraid only curious and gentle. Their parents were kind and comforting to them as well as me. My family came often and we were all overjoyed when the pathology report came back clean - Aah, relief!
Then came the pain as I began to have a severe reaction to the morphine. The headache was unbearable and I could keep no food down, my temperature began to rise, and fear set in for Warren because he lost a dear friend just the week before who died from complications following a simple routine surgery--she to had all of my symptoms and he was frightened...During this time I remember my friend Tom coming in to see me. I remember pain on his face and he seemed preoccupied, rushed, anxious...I wanted to comfort him and ask what was wrong, but my mind just wouldn't let my lips form the words.
There was joy when I got better and was able to come home and the healing process has been slow, painful, and frustrating. I can't figure out what I do that makes me feel so bad the next day. There is no pattern so I don't know what to avoid doing. Often is seems that doing nothing is eventually as painful as doing everything...
And this is where this story ends now as my words have upset far too many people!
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Here I sit
And I wait...I have not slept in two days...I'm anxious, but not scared. I will leave for the hospital in an hour to have what was one tumor removed...but instead there are two. One is larger than a base ball, the other a ping-pong ball.
I tried my best to explain to my dear students what would happen today, I don't know how much they understood except that I will have two scares that look much like the ones several of them have from their various operations.
My family is good. Warren will be at my bed side and tend to my needs. This is a huge sacrifice for him. It will be difficult for me to let him take care of me - big role reversal here. Megan is very clingy and openly nervous (although she has promised to smuggle in a frosty for me tonight). And Mandy.... is in denial. She is the quiet one. Scared. Won't talk. The one I worry about the most.
And where is God? Right here sitting next to me. I haven't "prayed" Father blah, blah, blah. I've talked. To my Daddy.
"Daddy, I'm scared"
I know, you should be.
"it's going to hurt"
Yep
"I know I'll be OK"
Yes, you will sweetie. Here hold my hand.
"Daddy I can't sleep"
I know
"You'll go with me, right?"
I be right there the whole time. Come her my baby, lay your head on my lap and rest.
"I love you Daddy"
I know. I love you too my child.
This is peace. I love my Daddy. Just just like I can't fully remove my children's apprehension over the various events of their lives, neither can He. He does what I do for them and for Warren. Be quite. be calm. stroke their hair and scratch their back. The comfort of touch.
My Heavenly father is sitting here beside me know. I feel his presence. His hand is upon my back. He is going to wipe away my tears shortly. The He will lead me to the operating room where He will sit with me and care for me. When I come out He will enter into my husband and be his strength. I love my God, my Daddy, my family. Life is good even now.
I tried my best to explain to my dear students what would happen today, I don't know how much they understood except that I will have two scares that look much like the ones several of them have from their various operations.
My family is good. Warren will be at my bed side and tend to my needs. This is a huge sacrifice for him. It will be difficult for me to let him take care of me - big role reversal here. Megan is very clingy and openly nervous (although she has promised to smuggle in a frosty for me tonight). And Mandy.... is in denial. She is the quiet one. Scared. Won't talk. The one I worry about the most.
And where is God? Right here sitting next to me. I haven't "prayed" Father blah, blah, blah. I've talked. To my Daddy.
"Daddy, I'm scared"
I know, you should be.
"it's going to hurt"
Yep
"I know I'll be OK"
Yes, you will sweetie. Here hold my hand.
"Daddy I can't sleep"
I know
"You'll go with me, right?"
I be right there the whole time. Come her my baby, lay your head on my lap and rest.
"I love you Daddy"
I know. I love you too my child.
This is peace. I love my Daddy. Just just like I can't fully remove my children's apprehension over the various events of their lives, neither can He. He does what I do for them and for Warren. Be quite. be calm. stroke their hair and scratch their back. The comfort of touch.
My Heavenly father is sitting here beside me know. I feel his presence. His hand is upon my back. He is going to wipe away my tears shortly. The He will lead me to the operating room where He will sit with me and care for me. When I come out He will enter into my husband and be his strength. I love my God, my Daddy, my family. Life is good even now.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
professional biography
My teaching career has been a lifelong journey that began when I was just a small child. The people who are close to me have heard this story often since it is pretty much the sum of who I am. My father was a high school vocational teacher for about 15 years. After receiving his master’s degree he moved into administration. He resigned as a high school principal shortly before his death in 1976 when I was only seven years old. He did not resign however from teaching me the importance of education and leaving me with a strong desire to help each person live to his/her full potential. One story that I hold close to my heart is how he taught electronics to a blind boy. My father first learned Braille himself to better understand the importance of touch and “seeing through your fingers”. He bought a brail typewriter so that he could make a hard copy of his verbal directions, and together they accomplished what people had told them was a waste of time. I pull energy and inspiration from this story frequently to keep me from becoming discouraged and frustrated if I fail to find the right “connection” to get through to my students. Patience, creativity, and imagination have been the keys to my success as a special education teacher. My current position as a self-contained IDMO teacher at the high school level has proven to be not only the most challenging, but the most rewarding as well.
In November of 2007 one of my students, Curtis, was experiencing an unstable home life. His father had undergone nerve surgery that went astray and was in a nursing home undergoing physical therapy. His mother was dying quickly of lung cancer which left Curtis’ 18 year old niece to care for them both. Curtis’ father knew they needed help and called me late one Sunday evening to ask if we would open our home to his son. There was no discussion needed, my family stood behind me and we left together to help him pack and “bring him home.” This new living arrangement sounded much easier than it was. Curtis is an African American male who would be sharing a bathroom with two adolescent Caucasian girls. Curtis was 20 years old at the time but constantly asked my 14 year old to “pick him up like a baby”. Curtis loved to watch the Hispanic channel, dominating the TV so that my 11 year old could no longer watch one of her favorite shows Full House. Curtis fed my dogs cookies and tried to get my cat to drink Sundrop. My husband helped Curtis take a shower three times a week because he had never learned to do this independently. What started out as an adventure for everyone turned into quite a struggle by the end of the fourth month. During his stay with us, Curtis’ mother passed away. One of the most heartbreaking things that week was trying to explain to Curtis what “dead” meant. Eventually it became clear that he needed to see his mom in order to have closure. That week I took Curtis and his dad to the funeral home for a private viewing so he could say good-bye. No matter the mental ability, we’re all really the same. We have to see to believe before we can cope. Curtis stayed with us until his dad finished physically healing and could go home, and then they began healing as a family. To have Curtis’ dad trust me and my family with his care during such a tumultuous time was humbling to say the least and this is what I believe to be the biggest contribution I have made to education. Not just for Curtis, but all my students.
To end on a more celebratory note, this past fall I nominated one of my female students, Dani, for junior class homecoming representative. Dani wants so badly to be “normal” this was one thing I could do for her. The students at MPHS did the rest when they made her dream come true by electing her junior class representative.
My accomplishment to teaching will be met when my students are accepted not for their academic ability but as loving, caring human beings. With the students and faculty at Mount Pleasant we are getting there, but we still have a way to go. To me that’s like teaching a blind boy electronics.
In November of 2007 one of my students, Curtis, was experiencing an unstable home life. His father had undergone nerve surgery that went astray and was in a nursing home undergoing physical therapy. His mother was dying quickly of lung cancer which left Curtis’ 18 year old niece to care for them both. Curtis’ father knew they needed help and called me late one Sunday evening to ask if we would open our home to his son. There was no discussion needed, my family stood behind me and we left together to help him pack and “bring him home.” This new living arrangement sounded much easier than it was. Curtis is an African American male who would be sharing a bathroom with two adolescent Caucasian girls. Curtis was 20 years old at the time but constantly asked my 14 year old to “pick him up like a baby”. Curtis loved to watch the Hispanic channel, dominating the TV so that my 11 year old could no longer watch one of her favorite shows Full House. Curtis fed my dogs cookies and tried to get my cat to drink Sundrop. My husband helped Curtis take a shower three times a week because he had never learned to do this independently. What started out as an adventure for everyone turned into quite a struggle by the end of the fourth month. During his stay with us, Curtis’ mother passed away. One of the most heartbreaking things that week was trying to explain to Curtis what “dead” meant. Eventually it became clear that he needed to see his mom in order to have closure. That week I took Curtis and his dad to the funeral home for a private viewing so he could say good-bye. No matter the mental ability, we’re all really the same. We have to see to believe before we can cope. Curtis stayed with us until his dad finished physically healing and could go home, and then they began healing as a family. To have Curtis’ dad trust me and my family with his care during such a tumultuous time was humbling to say the least and this is what I believe to be the biggest contribution I have made to education. Not just for Curtis, but all my students.
To end on a more celebratory note, this past fall I nominated one of my female students, Dani, for junior class homecoming representative. Dani wants so badly to be “normal” this was one thing I could do for her. The students at MPHS did the rest when they made her dream come true by electing her junior class representative.
My accomplishment to teaching will be met when my students are accepted not for their academic ability but as loving, caring human beings. With the students and faculty at Mount Pleasant we are getting there, but we still have a way to go. To me that’s like teaching a blind boy electronics.
Philosophy of Teaching
I believe that my students should be held accountable for their education just the same as every other student in regular education classes. I conduct every day in a structured fashion with units and lessons planned to meet each student’s ability level. I teach lessons using the same six-step plan I was taught in college and grade each student’s work daily. I refuse to be a glorified “babysitter” for six hours a day taking the easy way out of being held accountable for individual growth by giving everyone in my classroom an “A” on their report card. I relish the fact that some of my coworkers resent me because I have developed a curriculum to follow the NCEXTEND standards as well as a grading system that is easy for my students to understand. In my classroom we celebrate success as well as face consequences when we do not try and therefore fail.
I have a student who loves Superman, so much so that his mother made him a cape and he wears it everyday after school. One day this summer his mother called me because he had left the house early in the morning (without telling anyone he was leaving) wearing his cape. With his billfold in his pocket he headed uptown to (we speculate) buy a Sprite out of the vending machine near Cabarrus Creamery. The police found him wandering in the construction site of the new jail and took him to call home. I had been working all year with this student to learn his phone number and by gosh, he told them “704 – 704”. Thankfully he had his school ID card in his billfold and they were able to identify him and contact his parents who were frantic by this point. When his mom called me to share this I was ecstatic because he remembered three digits of his phone number! I also felt extremely special because she called me asking for input as to what to do in the future. I expressed that I thought he wanted some independence like his brothers had and we brainstormed how this could be done so that he felt empowered, but was still safe. Several of the ideas we came up with are still in use today and continue to be successful. We have continued to work on his phone number and he is able to dial and write it in class, but doesn’t yet have the ability to transfer the skill to home.
I try to model the words of Mother Theresa in my teaching style. “Speak tenderly to them. Let there be kindness in your face, in your eyes, in your smile, in the warmth of your greeting.” I do hold my students accountable and correct them when they’ve done wrong, but I never let them forget that I love them dearly. There are some pretty gross aspects of my job. I change diapers, I help girls with their monthly issues, I clean up my students after accidents occur, cut up food, feed one, wipe runny noses, and I have found that drool can be quite moisturizing. I model compassion for my students’ everyday and am rewarded continually through hugs, pictures they’ve drawn, or just simple words like “thank you’ Or “Kluttz, I love you”. I also feel like there is more than academic teaching that goes on in my classroom. Last year I had two students returning from PE with a male peer helper. One of the girls diaper was sliding down and she asked him to pull her shorts up so naturally he did. The diaper was looser than he thought and just a couple of steps later the whole thing fell off. As you can imagine the boy was mortified, but he stood there and supported her by holding her shoulders (with his eyes shut) while my other student pulled up the diaper, secured it and fixed her shorts. I was so proud! I knew then the academic lessons I teach may not always be successful, but the life lessons I model stick.
I am rewarded everyday by having the privilege of going to a job that I absolutely love and where I am surrounded by students who love me unconditionally. To have this relationship recognized by the faculty and staff at MPHS is just the icing on the cake.
I have a student who loves Superman, so much so that his mother made him a cape and he wears it everyday after school. One day this summer his mother called me because he had left the house early in the morning (without telling anyone he was leaving) wearing his cape. With his billfold in his pocket he headed uptown to (we speculate) buy a Sprite out of the vending machine near Cabarrus Creamery. The police found him wandering in the construction site of the new jail and took him to call home. I had been working all year with this student to learn his phone number and by gosh, he told them “704 – 704”. Thankfully he had his school ID card in his billfold and they were able to identify him and contact his parents who were frantic by this point. When his mom called me to share this I was ecstatic because he remembered three digits of his phone number! I also felt extremely special because she called me asking for input as to what to do in the future. I expressed that I thought he wanted some independence like his brothers had and we brainstormed how this could be done so that he felt empowered, but was still safe. Several of the ideas we came up with are still in use today and continue to be successful. We have continued to work on his phone number and he is able to dial and write it in class, but doesn’t yet have the ability to transfer the skill to home.
I try to model the words of Mother Theresa in my teaching style. “Speak tenderly to them. Let there be kindness in your face, in your eyes, in your smile, in the warmth of your greeting.” I do hold my students accountable and correct them when they’ve done wrong, but I never let them forget that I love them dearly. There are some pretty gross aspects of my job. I change diapers, I help girls with their monthly issues, I clean up my students after accidents occur, cut up food, feed one, wipe runny noses, and I have found that drool can be quite moisturizing. I model compassion for my students’ everyday and am rewarded continually through hugs, pictures they’ve drawn, or just simple words like “thank you’ Or “Kluttz, I love you”. I also feel like there is more than academic teaching that goes on in my classroom. Last year I had two students returning from PE with a male peer helper. One of the girls diaper was sliding down and she asked him to pull her shorts up so naturally he did. The diaper was looser than he thought and just a couple of steps later the whole thing fell off. As you can imagine the boy was mortified, but he stood there and supported her by holding her shoulders (with his eyes shut) while my other student pulled up the diaper, secured it and fixed her shorts. I was so proud! I knew then the academic lessons I teach may not always be successful, but the life lessons I model stick.
I am rewarded everyday by having the privilege of going to a job that I absolutely love and where I am surrounded by students who love me unconditionally. To have this relationship recognized by the faculty and staff at MPHS is just the icing on the cake.
I love my job. In fact I would go so far as to say I have the best teaching job in the entire state. I have a classroom of ten mentally handicapped high school students that function on a 2 – 6 year old level. We laugh, and learn, and spend our days together trying our hardest and never giving up. My students have a great amount of energy and demand a tremendous amount of attention. Taking care of them involves everything from toileting, and changing, to feeding, to teaching the most basic of skills as letters, numbers, colors, how to write their name, read, and understand numbers. Learning new strategies and ways to teach my students would be something I would greatly benefit from.
When I leave school to take care of my family, I spend additional hours at home grading papers, planning lessons, making communication boards to correspond with my lessons, and calling parents to discuss the ongoing needs of my students. I honestly spend all of my waking hours taking care of the physical and mental needs of my family and students. Time for me would be such a welcome oddity. Learning Tai Chi and other ways to distress throughout the day would defiantly improve my mental heath and allow me to put even more of myself into each day and every relationship.
When I leave school to take care of my family, I spend additional hours at home grading papers, planning lessons, making communication boards to correspond with my lessons, and calling parents to discuss the ongoing needs of my students. I honestly spend all of my waking hours taking care of the physical and mental needs of my family and students. Time for me would be such a welcome oddity. Learning Tai Chi and other ways to distress throughout the day would defiantly improve my mental heath and allow me to put even more of myself into each day and every relationship.
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