Tag: love

Stuck in the Mud

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Have you ever felt stuck?  You take a step, suddenly realizing it was the wrong step to take. I remember having that literal experience once as a kid. My cousins and I were playing kickball, a common activity when we were together. Someone kicked the ball into a ditch, and I went to get it. The minute my foot sank into the mud, I knew I was stuck.

For a brief moment, I felt a sense of panic. It seems a bit ridiculous looking back now. What could possibly have happened? Maybe I’d seen too many television portrayals of people sinking into quicksand. You know the ones. A bystander yelling at the would-be victim to be calm and still, yet panic sets in and they proceed to sink until their hand finally disappears.

All I needed to do was stand still and call for help. And of course, help came. With a group of cousins around, I certainly was not alone. One of them assisted with pulling my foot out of the mud. The only casualty that day was my tennis shoe.

Many steps taken in this life are much less literal, yet come with much more significant consequences. So what happens when a step is misguided or poorly chosen? Certain decisions in my teen and young adult years left  me feeling trapped, afraid my life was messed up permanently.  Regret and guilt crept in, causing me to feel like I was sinking further down in the mud.

Thankfully I eventually discovered ways to counter those fears. Simply choosing to be still, although difficult, was a start. If I could just wait instead of panic, maybe another bad decision would be avoided. Next, it was time to call for help. That help came in different forms. A prayer, a simple phone call to a friend or family member-often both.

“Casting the whole of your care (all your anxieties, all your worries, all your concerns, once and for all) on Him, for He cares for you affectionately and cares about you watchfully.” I Peter 5:7

“…but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.” Proverbs 18:24

A friendly listening ear often guided me toward a fresh perspective. There was not always an easy or instant answer, and that was sometimes hard to accept. Yet in spite of unavoidable consequences, with some guidance and faith, I was able to take a step in a new direction, no longer feeling stuck in the mud.

Baby Steps

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My young friend at school who has severe anxiety and spends most of his day in the special education classroom gave me a high-five today! It was super quick. Our hands only touched for a second, but I believe it is progress. He still won’t speak to me, but I sometimes get a smile. He continues to allow me to put a music stamp on his hand at the end of class as well.

I know he has rough days at school and often indicates that he’d rather be at home. Yet he seems to be smiling more this year than I remember from the previous year. Last year he wouldn’t come to art, music, or P.E., but now attends all three. Most of the time he simply observes and that is ok. He is there, taking in what’s happening around him, participating in his own way.

His teacher and paras love him so much. They refuse to give up on him, recognizing his capability for so much more. Progress is definitely being made, yet it could be easily missed if not looked for intentionally. I see this progress as he smiles and quietly teases with his teacher. It’s a beautiful thing.

That’s exactly what was happening today after school. I walked over to him and quietly asked for a high five. He smiled but hesitated. I teased a little, “Oh please. Can I have a high five?”  Then his teacher chimed in, also teasing,  “Don’t you give her a high-five. You better not give her a high-five.” We were laughing, and just as I was about to walk away, I saw his little hand move toward mine.  I told him “Thank you” and walked away…grateful.

Grateful to make another connection with this precious child.
Grateful for the connections his teachers are making.
Grateful that the power of love can be witnessed in these baby steps.

Capturing the Moment

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What happens when a special moment is captured only in our memory?  No witnesses or cameras present to record the details. Does that make it any less significant?  Social pressures to perfectly capture life events may unintentionally cause us not to be fully present in the experience, worrying more about the perception of others than our own happiness.

There is a big difference between living in the moment and living to make sure the moment is flawlessly planned and documented.  Personally, I love taking photos and reminiscing later while looking at said photos.  That is not a bad thing, but I am working to focus more on being fully present in my life circumstances. Realizing that even if I don’t get that perfect picture, the true beauty of the memory is stored in my heart forever.

My husband and I were recently discussing this notion, and he reminded me that the memory of when he proposed belongs only to us…

 

Proposal

The ring was purchased

Permission asked and given

No plan in place

Waiting for the right moment

An evening drive~no big production

Castle in the park~no cameras~no witnesses

Two people

One kneeling and asking~One crying and accepting

Ready to take the next step

A forever commitment

Twenty-five years of marriage~the memory clear and sweet

Shared only by the two

A Single Snapshot

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I continue to be amazed how one photo has the power to bring such a flood of emotions.  Just when I think my heart is ok, one picture of my sweet friend Marie-and I’m crying.  See earlier blog post:   Face to Face with Child Abuse: Personal Reflections of a Teacher

A sweet teacher friend recognized Marie in an online adoption video and shared the link.  I had to watch it, of course.  Hearing how the social worker described her-listening as Marie answered questions about her favorite things-all I could think was, “I know the answer!”  Like an impatient student raising their hand, shouting, “Pick me! Pick me! Oh, and here’s some additional info you didn’t even ask for.”

I was struck by the social workers comment, “She deserves a family.”  I completely agree.  She’s not the only one.  While looking at this link, I saw pages and pages of other children-all with a story-all without a family.  And then my questions started all over again.  How does this happen?  Why does this happen so often?  What do we do to help?

My initial reaction was to shout inside my head, “I don’t have any answers!”  But when I took a step back and calmed my emotions, the following things came into focus:

  • Amazing people who have chosen to be foster parents.
  • Others who have adopted or are considering adoption.
  • People like myself-looking for ways to be an advocate and friend.

No, these positives won’t wipe away all the heartache.  They are however, small steps in the right direction.  When a child who has been neglected, abused, and deserted is able to experience love, acceptance, and security-the healing process begins.  I continue to witness this in my sweet friend.

There is still so much to do.  I don’t want to become complacent in searching for ways to advocate for my friend.  It’s also important for me to recognize the children right in front of me everyday who are facing the same kind of sadness and heartache.  Yes, it feels like an impossible, daunting task.  Today I was reminded of my role and responsibility-and for that reminder I’m thankful.

I was also reminded of the impact this one child has had on my heart.  No amount of my tears can cover the suffering she has endured, but seeing her smile gives me hope.

“And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart.”  Galatians 6:9

 

List the Positives

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Yesterday I vowed to keep a list of positives throughout the day today in hopes of helping my mood and focus.  Well…I have a list.  It took me until lunch time to actually start writing anything down, but by the end of the day my list covered both sides of a post-it note.

  •  Cooler weather
  •  Students positive responses to having a choice between whiteboards and popsicle  sticks for writing or constructing their rhythmic patterns.
  •  Hearing, “I got it right!”
  •  Receiving three books from students off of my book fair list.
  •  Unplanned, improvised “singing” of one of those books.
  •  A student who has severe anxiety, always sits alone and doesn’t speak to me,  accepted a music stamp on his hand when leaving class today.

Was it a perfect day?  No-there’s no such thing.  But was it a good day?  Yes.  And even though I may not be able to use my mood as an indicator for the success of the day, I can look back on my list and be reminded of the things that were good.  Funny thing is, almost all the items are things over which I have little or no control.

So what do I have control over?  Continuing to look for the positive.  My responses to the people and situations I encounter.  Loving my family, friends, and students.

Any guesses which book I sang today?  It was super fun!

books

 

Going Home

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Growing up, giving directions to my house was always interesting.  It went something like this…”Drive past the Natural Steps sign and Moreland’s Grocery Store, go around a sharp curve, over a hill, then you’ll see a straight stretch of road.  Right at the end of the straight stretch, turn left onto Mahar Road.”  Mahar is my mom’s maiden name, hence the name of the road.

My husband likes to tell people that I grew up in a commune, but that is not the case. The quarter of a mile road,  lined with trees on both sides, dead ends into a wide-open valley.  My grandparent’s house was in the center, surrounded by several homes belonging to my aunts, uncles, and my parents.  Huge oaks, towering pines, and grassy fields provided plenty of room for kids to run and play.

That’s where I spent my childhood-riding bikes, digging in the dirt, playing kickball and basketball with my cousins.  And since my mom had six sisters and two brothers, there were always cousins around.  They say I made them listen to me practice piano and violin…well, maybe a few times.  But most of the time, we were outside.  Distinct memories include singing at the top of my lungs while riding bicycles, trying to fool my uncle with mud pies, and playing “King of the Mountain” on Grandma’s front porch.

Almost thirty-three years have passed since I lived on Mahar Road.  Even while typing I think surely that can’t be correct! Oh, but it is…despite the years gone by and having a family of my own, I still refer to this special place as home.  I’m thankful to have grown up there-carefree, no worries about safety, room to let our imaginations run wild.

Of course, things have changed since I was a child.  My grandparents are no longer living, cousins are all grown and many, just like me, have moved away.  That doesn’t matter.  Simply driving the route that leads to home causes any anxiety to melt away.  My brain slows down, my body relaxes, and while there I truly rest.  Sometimes I even feel like a kid again.

Thinking about my childhood reminds me that home is so much more than a house.  It’s the people, the places, the memories.  And sometimes…you just need to go home.

 

Life’s Roles

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Daughter first

Sister second

Years later wife

Mom times three

Cousin, niece, aunt

Friend and teacher between

 

Each role gives purpose

Brings responsibility

Delivers sorrow 

Causes growth

Provides joy

Creates life

 

 I look ahead

The future unseen

New roles yet to come

Hopeful to embrace each one

Through smiles, laughter, or tears

And continue down this path to becoming me

Instant Friends

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Have you ever experienced an instantaneous friendship?  You meet someone for the first time, yet it seems as if you’ve always known them?  That’s exactly what happened when I met Shannon.  Both of our husbands had new jobs which brought us to Liberal, KS.  She was the wife of a pastor and me the wife of a high school assistant principal.  We both had young children and were navigating a new place, far away from old friends and family.

If you’ve never been to Liberal, well…there is an actual edge of town. You can see nothing but fields for miles and miles in all directions. The town had a Walmart, a few restaurants, and a small shopping center.  We would drive an hour and a half to Garden City, KS just to eat at Applebees.  Needless to say, it was quite an adjustment for both families.

Our move to Liberal was the second big move we’d made in nine years of marriage.  Memories from previous moves brought images of tear-filled goodbyes with many dear friends.  Some of those goodbyes turned into lifelong friendships, but in that actual moment of leaving it felt like our world was falling apart.  As for me, the tears often continued as I adjusted and searched to figure out my place in a new location.  Looking back now I understand that those lonely times strengthened our marriage and brought our family closer together, but oh were they hard.

Soon after we settled in our new home, I heard an advertisement on the radio for a MOPs (Moms of Preschoolers) group meeting.  I’d never been to one of these before but was excited at the prospect of meeting other moms with small children.  There was also a weekly storytime at the library.  My two oldest would be starting school soon, so that would give Ryan (my youngest) and I a fun outing.

It’s funny looking back now, I can’t remember if I first met Shannon at the library or MOPs.  I definitely noticed her at both events with her young kids.  She had such a welcoming smile, maybe we would become friends!  We introduced ourselves, and it wasn’t long before we had traded phone numbers.  At least now there would be a familiar face at storytime and our MOPs meetings.

Not long after school started, Shannon asked if I’d like to go for a walk after we dropped our older kids off at school.  Our youngest kids were the same age, and still enjoyed short stroller rides.  That first walk remains etched in my memory.  We chatted about our families, what had brought us to Liberal, our future plans.  And then Shannon shared the most amazing thing.  From the time they knew they would be moving, she had been praying that God would send her a friend.  I will never forget her words, “I think you just might be the answer to my prayers.”

From that point on, we were inseparable.  Playdates, family dinners, babysitting for eachother…things all young moms desperately need. I’m not sure how I would have survived that year without her.  It felt like we had known each other our entire lives.  She would even laugh and say she must have named her daughter Kelli after me before she even knew me.  And to make the year even more exciting, she soon discovered they were expecting their third child!  So much to plan and celebrate!

Telling Shannon that we would be moving back to Oklahoma for the following school year was not easy.  I dreaded making that phone call.  We were in Oklahoma for the interview and she was in Kansas, having just given birth to their sweet baby.  Terrible timing, but I knew it couldn’t wait.  Always gracious, she understood.  Moving would eventually be part of their future as well.  There were tears and promises to keep in touch.  Despite having experienced this kind of goodbye with friends before-it was not any easier.

Although Shannon and I had become close friends in such a short time, I had no idea the lasting impact she would have on my life. After our move, there were regular phone calls in those first months and even a visit despite the distance between us.  But our communications quickly took a different tone as Shannon was diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer.

How could this be possible?  A young mom of three, healthy, no family history…the wife of a pastor.  She fought so hard.  Surgery, treatments, more surgery…and so many prayers.  I witnessed the outpouring of support from their family and friends past and present.  There were also a few misguided individuals who thought if her faith was just strong enough, she would be healed.  Most certainly they did not truly know Shannon.

If ever there was a time in life where I questioned my own faith, this was it.

I had the privilege of spending a week with Shannon and her family shortly before she died.  Oh, my sweet friend-fighting with courage and grace I had never witnessed before. Her cancer had spread once again causing tremendous pain and weakness.  But she was determined we would go shopping, and we did.  She had also planned an outing for us at a lovely tea room, and we went.  I watched as she pushed through, insisting on serving dinner and giving attention to her family-she loved them so much.

Shannon’s kindness as a friend, patience as a mom, and her unwavering faith in the face of terrible tragedy continues to impact my life. We may have only lived in the same town for one year, fifteen years ago, but I miss her.  The grief that she is not here with her family remains.  I keep a picture of the two of us on a shelf in my closet.  When I look at this sweet photo, I think about the power and importance of friends.  And remembering our instantaneous friendship, I am grateful.

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Robbing the Cradle

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I’m sure you have heard the phrase “robbing the cradle.”  Typically it refers to someone marrying a much younger person.  People have teased me with that old saying upon discovering that I am two years older than my husband.  Of course, he never lets me forget that fact, even though two years hardly qualifies in this case.

On a recent trip to the grocery store, my daughter and I met an older couple.  As the wife turned around from the meat counter, she stumbled but caught herself.  She came to a stop right in front of us.  I asked if she was ok and said something like, “Oh, be careful!”  Very helpful I’m sure, but she smiled and struck up a conversation.

We soon learned that this fashionably dressed, white-haired, make-up wearing woman was ninety-three years old!  She shared her age proudly and thanked us as we commented on how amazing she looked.  Obviously, this woman had some spunk.

As we continued to chat, her husband (I assumed) walked toward us.  When something was mentioned about him watching out for her she laughed and said, “Oh yes he does.  Well, I did rob the cradle.”  Now mind you he was not a spring chicken and walked with a cane, but he had a precious smile.  We chuckled as she shared that she was twelve years older than her husband.  I quickly did the math in my head…so, that makes him eighty-one.

Just when I thought the story was finished, she shared more details.  “I was married to my first husband for seventy years.  And (pointing to her husband) we’ve only been married for three years.”  It took a few minutes for my brain to wrap around what this precious lady was saying.  Seventy years of marriage!  What a story!  I would imagine her current husband also had a story to tell, but he just smiled happily as she told hers.

Later I found myself wishing I could have spent more time with this sweet couple.  Many questions came to my mind.  How old was she when she first married?  What had happened to her husband?  Did she have any children?  How did she meet her current husband?  Answers I guess I will never have.  Unless we happen to run into each other at the grocery store again…you can bet I will be keeping my eyes open.

 

 

 

The Voice of an Old Friend

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It amazes that a music composition from 1839, which I learned to play thirty years ago, has such a powerful influence over me today.  Arabeske Op. 18 by Robert Schumann was my absolute favorite college recital piece.  I’ve always found Schumann’s ability to beautifully weave a melodic theme throughout a piece captivating.  He presents the theme, expands it to represent a variety of emotions, and finally restates in a peaceful resolution.  This particular composition clearly follows that structure.

My second favorite Schumann composition is Frauen-Liebe und Leben (A Woman’s Love and Life.)  A song cycle based on a series of poems, each song represents a different phase of the love relationship from first meeting to wedding and finally ending in death.  This lovely depiction of life also follows the structure of beginning and ending with a recognizable theme. In the final song, the piano provides a beautiful postlude,  giving the listener a reminder of the true love represented by the recurring melodic theme.

My memories of playing these two pieces are crystal clear, relating to specific events in my life.

Picture a young, twenty-one-year-old college student, senior year.  The two years previous marked by a difficult, controlling relationship.  An unwise decision to marry this person had ended in divorce after a year and a half.  Now I was attempting to get my life back on track, finish college, and figure out what was next.  Many evenings were spent in a tiny practice room.  And often when I practiced Schumann’s Arabeske,  the tears would flow uncontrollably.

Fast forward nine years-happily married with three young children.  Looking for a job, preferably in the music field.  Directed by a previous employer, I applied for a staff accompanist opening at the Univerisity of Tulsa.  The interview process involved playing a prepared piece and sight reading.  I chose to play the Schumann Frauen-Liebe und Leben since it related to the position, and because it had been one of my favorite recital pieces from graduate school.  There I sat, all alone on that stage, desperately wanting this job.  I played the Schumann with clarity and emotion, sight read confidently and got the position.

So what directed my thoughts to these pieces on this day?  Today was exhausting.  It was the third full day of a brand new school year.  Following a full day of teaching elementary music with the grand finale of car duty, I trudged back to my classroom.  Walking in, I immediately noticed the music sitting on the piano in the corner-Arabeske.  It was like an old friend calling me to the bench.

The simple act of playing the piano always calms my brain.  I’ve experienced this truth many times, so why don’t I take the time to do it more often?  I’m not sure-but today I had no choice.  Sitting down at the piano, I began to play this old familiar piece.  Reaching the last page, playing that final melodic theme, listening to it fade away…I let out a big sigh of relief.  Still tired, but now relaxed and much calmer, preparing my thoughts for the next day didn’t feel so overwhelming.

Will I do this every day?  Probably not.  But hopefully, more often than I have in recent days.  Playing the piano has an undeniable positive influence on my state of mind, and days like today the music sounds like the voice of an old friend…