Looking into the darkness

 Several times in my life, I’ve found myself in the dark, dark, desolation. Sometimes I’ve been completely engulfed in it, even though I could detect the soft glow of light on the edges, coming from who knows where. All I could perceive is bleak, cold, emptiness. 

I’ve been there. In that place. I’ve curled up in the fetal position and sobbed in that lonely darkness. Alone. Afraid. Unable to see anything real or true or beautiful. 

If you’re there, there’s something I want you to know. 

You, my friend, are looking into your own shadow. 

So was I.  Trapped in my own thoughts and feelings, I felt there was nothing good to be seen, but I was mistaken. Shadows only happen when something gets in the way of a source of light. I don’t know how I got there, but I was in the way. I got all turned around. My sadness and my fear had me looking straight down and only right in front of me. I covered my eyes to hide from the dark, which only made it darker. 

Open your eyes. Move around and watch that shadow mimic you. Go ahead. Make a bird with your hands. Can you see it now? It’s a shadow! So there has to be a light shining somewhere. Look around and see that light being reflected off the things (and people) around you. Where is it coming from?

That light is behind you. Turn around, if you can. 

Next time you’re in the dark and it feels  hopeless and forever, please hold on. 

This is only a shadow. There’s still a light. It’s shining on you. 

Much love. 

The Other Stuff

 I've been uncomfortable and out of sorts lately. My thoughts have been going to the OTHER STUFF.  You know, the OTHER STUFF you would be doing if you weren't doing the things you're currently doing? Sometimes the fact that I'm not doing the OTHER STUFF makes me question if I've correctly prioritized the stuff I AM doing. Maybe the stuff I'm doing isn't the best stuff to bring God glory, and to leave the world a more loving place, which are my life goals. There are so many good options, it's hard to know what to do.  

I love my job of teaching kids how to read, problem-solve, and communicate. There are lots of other things I've taught them, like the word "biohazard", that rubbing bologna on the table is just a bad idea, and that "there ain't no 'a' in they".  Girl, I could write a book. but I digress. I've been doing my job professionally for 14 years, and I'm good at it. I've gained a treasure trove of tips, and strategies from so many fantastic education professionals, and from the kids themselves. I know all about phonemic awareness, and onset/rime. I know what a "schwa" is, and how to help kids decode correctly.  I get to be fully myself while I sing the "Walking Feet" song down the hallway, and some days I get to dress like a total FREAK, because Mrs. Swager don't play when it comes to Crazy Hair Day! So why do I sometimes wonder what else I can do?  

I'm blaming it on my candles.  

I always have a candle lit in my home.  I lit a candle from the new fire on Holy Saturday (yes, at Easter), and that flame continues to burn in my home.  I have to replace the wax and wicks, but the fire itself hasn't been extinguished.  I just move it from candle to candle. This latest batch of candles doesn't burn very brightly.  In fact, they barely stay lit at all, and I have to really keep an eye on them.  When the wick has burned all the way to the bottom, there's still a thick layer of wax clinging to the outside of the jar. This gets me thinking about the candle being like my life.  

The flame represents the inner spark of life (which is love itself), and the wick of my lifetime carries it. The wax is the life I'm living outside of myself: experiences, people I love, and things I do. This new box of candles represents the intensity with which I'm currently living my life, and right now, I'm leaving a lot behind, and not burning as brightly as I could. This makes me wonder what I'm leaving "on the table" as it were. Who wants to get to the end of their wick to find out there was so much more wax there to melt? 

So here I am, pondering the OTHER STUFF, and as I write this, I realize that I do not know why these candles aren't as bright. I could guess that they have bad wicks, but don't we all have challenges in our "wicks"?  My heart issues, and lack of a thyroid tend to slow me down, but they don't slow me down nearly as much as my slothfulness. I nap. I'm practically gifted at it.  I could teach a master class. The problem with the candles may be the wick, but that's not my problem.

Truth is, it doesn't matter which STUFF I'm doing.  What really matters is if I'm doing it with love.  The wick of my lifetime won't get longer.  That's not how lifetimes work.  If I want to make sure I use up the entire supply of wax in the candle of my life, I need to love more. If I want my life to be well spent, (and completely spent) I need to love with my whole self.  No matter what STUFF I'm doing, I need to remember what really matters.    

         

   

The Family Shrub

I walked out into my back yard and was met with this lovely sight.  This same Rose of Sharon once grew in the front yard of my Grandma and Grandpa Thompson's house in Steubenville Ohio. It has lots of new shoots popping up, but then, so do my grandparents, really. We're just prolific that way. That might be what got me thinking more deeply. I can see my whole family in this shrubbery.  

The first thing I see is the bloom on this beautiful Rose of Sharon (also known as a Hibiscus tree.) The bloom is large, as big as my hand, and the deep burgundy base of the petals make the white part look even whiter!  This bloom will only last a day or two (three if it's lucky) which makes this a big deal, kind of like childhood. Right now, this bloom is having the time of it's life. It's radiant and beautiful, and you can't help but smile just watching it. I love seeing the joy in those little blossoms of mine.    

Have another look at the photo.  What else do you see?  I mean, the bloom is lovely, but there's no bloom without the greenery.  Every single leaf is basking in the sun, soaking up all that warmth, and turning it into chlorophyll.  Each leaf is making the food and feeding the plant, so really, that greenery is what keeps it all together.  When the petals fall off (as petals do) that exquisite foliage remains. Just look at it!  Look what a beautiful shade of green, and those delicate scalloped edges. It surrounds the blooms, and lifts them up, and seems to be enjoying their beauty as much as the rest of us are. Just. Like Us. We, the parents and we, the aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends.  All of us make up the foliage of our families.  We feed them and nourish them, and rejoice in their blooming. We are beautiful in our own right, with our lush green scalloped edges, and in the way we stay together, working to keep each other healthy and well.  

There's one more thing I see, and it makes me a bit sad. Just above the bloom and to the left, you will see the brown seed pods. They already had their turn to bloom, and they were spectacular. Now they have a new purpose. They contain within themselves the priceless treasure of their knowledge, experience, and creativity.  They must break to share what they have nurtured within, but it's so hard to watch them become such brittle, fragile versions of who they once were. They are ready to share the means by which something old becomes new again, and they'll share their pearls of wisdom with the Earth. 

Then a new shoot will begin.   

First one small leaf, then another.  The leaves will give way to a stem which makes more leaves and more. The next "little bud" in our family is due to bloom in December. Our family keeps growing. I'm thankful for the blooming, and for the opportunity to be the foliage.  I hope when it's my turn, I break gracefully, surrounded by leaves and blooms.     

     

Mrs. Woodworth’s lessons

Jill Woodworth was a teacher.

If you knew her, you knew that. As a teacher at Climax-Scotts, she had a hand in educating the kids of our small community for three decades. She’s taught countless kids how to read, how to do math, and how to LOVE learning. She’s taught them to tie shoes and zip coats, and she’s put hundreds of baby teeth into little baggies to be taken home and shown to doting parents. She’s read thousands of stories, graded thousands of papers, and planned thousands of lessons, and she did all that...Because she’s a teacher.  

Did she teach you?  

Jill had a million tiny things about her that each of us hold dear.  They’re those classic Jill Woodworth things that made everything seem A-OK in the world. That giggle. Her smile. Her quiet presence. The sigh. The way she would tell kids,”You CAN hang up your coat, now go back and try.” Everyone felt safe, felt like they belonged, and learned in her classroom. There were frequently caterpillars or chrysalises, or some other bit of nature to explore. The kids knew that she cared about their reading skills, and also about them as a person.  She was the constant, calm presence in a chaotic world for so many students, past and present. Even kids who never had her as a teacher spoke of her being kind to them when they crossed paths in the hallway. She was teaching everywhere she went.

Some classes are always more challenging than others, and she managed each one with so much grace and patience. If kids were acting out, screaming, throwing papers, or any number of other poor choices, she just kept on caring and teaching and pushing on through until the end of the day when she could joyfully wave goodbye as the busses pulled away.  She never gave up on her kids, even when they pushed her to tears. Those moments were rare, but they were real. She taught us to be human. She reminded us that each child is worth the time to listen to, and really hear what they’re saying. She didn’t need to be flashy or loud. You can create Thanksgiving memories with pancakes and sausage just as well as if you’d put on a Broadway show! She taught THIRTY YEARS of students!  

Now she’s teaching us something new, and this is the hard part.  It’s the lesson no one wants to learn. She’s teaching us how to go on without her. It’s not written in the Common Core Standards, but if it was, it might sound like this:  I can be sad sometimes. I can miss her. I can feel her quiet, calming presence, and see her handiwork all around the school. I can giggle again and laugh again. I can share wonderful memories of Mrs. Woodworth.  I can cherish the people around me, and tell them so. I can keep her smile in my mind. I can remember her with love.

Thank you, Jill Woodworth, for all of the work you’ve put into helping each of us become the best we can be.       

    

What she doesn't know.

Tonight was Harriett's last high school band concert.  It's the end of an era of watching her play her french horn. I took a bunch of pictures, since that's what I do, and I wonder if she knows what's happening in my heart.

She doesn't know.

There's so very much she doesn't know, and she really is a very smart girl.

There are things I want her to know.  I want her to know she's loved, and that she has a home with people who love her that she can always come back to.  She knows that.  I want her to remember that wherever she is, she's never alone, because God is so much a part of her that he lives in every cell of her being, rooting her on and encouraging her, if she listens for his voice.  I'm pretty sure she knows that too.  I want her to be able to tell who to trust and who to avoid.  I want her to be confident enough to see the whole wide world, and find the love in it.  

There are also SO MANY THINGS I don't want her to know.  I don't want her to know desperation.   I don't want her to know abandonment.  I don't want her to feel betrayal, or the pain of being deeply, physically hurt by someone who is supposed to love her. I don't want her to know addiction. (Except to well-written novels.) I don't want her to know terror or crippling fear. I don't want her to know, PERSONALLY KNOW, the world that the TV shows all portray that seem so foreign to the way she was raised.  I don't want her to see the badness of the world as the reality of the world. I don't want her to know hatred.  

I know she's going to grow up and know things that I can't even imagine yet.  I pray that she ALWAYS knows love.  I pray that she will always be my dear, sweet, kind-hearted, book-loving, french-horn playing, softball pitching girl. I pray that she knows she is wonderfully and fearfully made in the image and likeness of God.

I hope she teaches the world some of what she knows. She knows love.    

We say goodbye, she says hello.

It's time for us to say goodbye.

Nobody wants to.  We love him so much, and have so many fond memories.  We've fished together and laughed together.  We've played cards together and shared so many funny stories. He was the uncle who could drive trains.  TRAINS for crying out loud! He took us to his work once, and let me ride and even blow the whistle.  I love that guy! He laughed all the time, and usually had a smile on his face, but behind the smile I always sensed a sadness. Something that he was missing.

I knew what it was, but we didn't really talk about it.

It was her, and as we say goodbye, she says hello.

I keep seeing her in my head. Her strawberry blond hair blowing in the breeze as she runs to greet her daddy.  Kathleen hasn't seen her daddy since 1974.  She was trapped in a body that didn't work right, with a brain that caused her to seize repeatedly.  She left that body behind when bell-bottoms were all the rage. Daddy wasn't even 30 yet, and she's been waiting ever since for THIS day.  He's finally here!

I remember her tiny features. That skinny little girl that was always a baby, now is free to run to her daddy. RUN! She's free of that body and brain that held her captive. She smiles and laughs and looks him clearly right in the eye and says the words he probably always hoped to hear from her: I love you, Daddy!

Can you picture the smile on his face? It's not the same smile he's tried to put on lately.  It's the smile of that young daddy for his baby girl. Watch Clint look at his daughters, and you'll know what I'm talking about.  He reaches out to hold her, and looks at his hands.  They are no longer the hardened, stiff hands that he's been trying to function with lately.  They've been made perfect and whole.  As he runs to her, his breath moves freely in his lungs,and his heart pounds out a strong and steady beat. Finally free.  

What an incredible gift.

Uncle CJ has been blessed with so many wonderful years with Chuck and Dale and Clint.  He's been blessed with the love of parents, wives and friends. (And NIECES and nephews, siblings, co-workers, etc.) We will all miss him so very much, but it's her turn.

Our day will come.  Until then, we'll keep a smile in our hearts for them both.  We'll do what he did.  We'll live THIS day, and look forward to our next day together.  We'll love and laugh, and tell his stories until we meet again.

What's wrong with being "Confident?"

I heard that song on the radio, and asked myself the same question. What IS wrong with being confident? Truly, nothing. If you are properly defining the word "confident".

I heard a different song that got me thinking about this. The songs couldn't be more different. This other song was written centuries ago. In Latin, it's known as "Adeste Fideles" in English "Oh Come All Ye Faithful." If you know me, you know I'm a total Word Nerd and love learning the roots, origins and etymology of words. So naturally, I was curious about these Latin In our church, as in others as well, we sing it in latin, and one of the words looked familiar: FIDELES.

It comes from the word FIDES which means Faith. This version of the word FAITH (thanks to etymonline.com) means  "trust, faith, confidence, reliance, credence, belief,"  

So, CON FIDES means "with much FAITH."  

Am I living my life like one of those "Fideles" being invited to "Adeste"?  Am I truly "Full of Faith"?  FULL?  

Con Fides.  "With much faith" is the kind of mindset that allowed Mary to say Yes to whatever God had in mind for her life.  "Fideles" is the mindset that the disciples took with them everywhere they went to proclaim the gospel to all who would listen.  

Con-Fidence is what I wish for everyone this New Year!  In 2017, May you be filled with FAITH that whatever it brings with it, He will love us through it.  Let's have CONFIDENCE that whoever dies this year will experience a peaceful death. Let's have CONFIDENCE that the new people born this year will be a blessing to the world they inherit. 

Let's all go forward, boldly into 2017 with the CONFIDENCE, the fullness of Faith, that our words and actions will reflect that Faith in our hearts, and the Love of the one we have Faith in.    

Oh come, let us adore him.