Lilting Voices, Genuine Hugs, and Legacies Left Behind

The past twenty four hours have been wonderful. The kind you wish would never end. I spent the early afternoon Saturday with my mom at our family cabin. EVERY family is incorporated and has a family cabin owned jointly on sacred ground, right? We cleaned and laughed and solved all the world's problems while waiting for the rest of our family, our gang, our tribe to join us for our SOUPer Thanksgiving Celebration. Upon others' arrival the little cabin filled with joyous sounds of loved ones who have been away from one another far too long. Laughter and smiles dominated and all "guests" were {hopefully} made to feel welcomed. The cabin is a labor of love that has morphed over time beginning with our parents and the thought that we might need a "little shed to gather under." With ten siblings and their offspring no business made the fatal mistake of hosting us for a second event, thus the shed idea was scratched for a cabin instead. Once upon a time, the cabin {affectionately known as The Hub} even had outdoor Johnny houses and no running water. These, too, offered good times albeit terrifying to this little "city girl" with a potty urge in the dark, dark country night. The decibel level of the cabin is probably around a mere 140+ or so. None of us are quiet and ALL or us are talkers. You understand. At the end of the evening, everyone pitched in to clean and put things away while discussing "when's our next event?" While already determined at our annual meeting each May, the sentiment is "dear one... when will I see you again?" The bear hugs that somewhat resemble the compression found in a mammography machine are truly soul stirring. They say nearly as much as the lilting voices of greetings or the all too quickly uttered "see you soons." When I returned home, my house was filled with men friends of my sons and husband who actually let me tag along too. They laughed, played chess, had drinks, and genuinely made the evening more perfect. I had to go to bed around midnight but their laughter and conversations heard through my closed bedroom door were perfect lullabies for this momma. Fast forward a few {very quick} hours to 6:00am. I awoke and made my way "up the mountain" to my hometown of Wilkesboro. My home church, First Baptist Church- North Wilkesboro, celebrated its 125th Anniversary. This place too is sacred to me. It has changed, weathered difficult times, and truly is a huge piece of the person I am today. As I listened to a variety of church members recall their memories of the church the one thing that stood out was the familial attitude of the congregation. Mission mindedness, true relationships, and persistence were also echoed. After a two hour service that I really did not want to end, the masses gathered in the fellowship hall named for the first person I remember being a minister, Dr. John T. Wayland. As a kid, you don't really care WHAT a person does. It matters far more WHO they are and how they treat you. Dr. Wayland was mysterious and wonderful and certainly a joy spreader. Other memories of First Baptist include: Vacation Bible School; eating homemade playdough; Kum ba Ya; Mrs. Betty Shelton, Mrs. Sean Kerbaugh and Mrs. Carpenter and their careful instruction during Sunday School; Mr. Bud Kilby and his delivery of ice cold, bottled sodas that indicated "our mommies and daddies would be there soon"; Mrs. Ruby Foster and her love of music as she rewrote countless familiar songs to help us learn Bible Truths; Steve Bentley and Ann Fortuna in children's choir and the song, Pickles; youth group with Alan Ritchie and so many "church friends" who helped me (perhaps unknowingly) deal with a difficult time in my life; Mission Trips and Camp Caswell where we weren't allowed to stay on campus {see previous paragraph about being LOUD and TALKATIVE-- seeing a trend here, aren't you?); Sunday School with Betty Foster and her willingness to help us find answers to the tough teenage questions; youth choir; handbells; returning after college to find many of those same welcoming faces who never lost faith in me... even when I lost faith in myself; leading Mission Friends; marrying the one I've called mine for 20 years; dedicating our first born, and as goes with life, attending the funerals of many highly revered and well loved people. 125 years and sacred land. These concepts weigh on my mind and force the question "what will I leave behind?" Each day I try to be better and not lose sight of what is really important. ALL these people selflessly invested time and energy in me. They loved me when I was good and loved me more when I was not. My only option is to pass on the mercy, love, kindness, joy, and PATIENCE I have been blessed with. If I can do these things, my legacy and more importantly THEIR legacy is one I believe our Savior will smile over and utter, "well done, good and faithful servant."

Paths Less Traveled...

Our amazing Assistant Principal is working with us on mindset changes. She offered the challenge to travel to or from work in a path that you don’t usually travel. Here was my response…. I took an alternate route home with my 15 year old driving.  I waited for East Rowan to dismiss and we were in the "car line of craziness" as we made our way eastward.  I was a nervous wreck.  ALL these former Eagles driving cars with blaring stereos and not a care in the world including paying attention to the cars in front of and behind them.  Rather than drive straight down Highway 52, we turned onto Sides Road.  Even tho' it was curvy and unfamiliar, I felt relieved to be away from much of the mayhem I was surrounded by.   I admit it made me think of the first month of school.  Even tho' there is chaos, confusion, and  a barrage of I can't do this rants... soon enough the unfamiliar WILL feel comfortable and even tho' you don't know what lies around the bend, you KNOW you can handle it and handle it well.  Perhaps this "road trip" was a reminder to me to remove myself from negative thinking and joining in on unproductive energy instead  I'll just "head out on the highway.... looking for adventure!"  (Born to Be Wild, Steppenwolf, 1968).

Ramblings of a Mother of Teens

Most parents lament and dread the inevitable teenaged years. Those whose children don't make it to the dreaded teen years are forever heartbroken. Both sets mourn. As our children age, they become their own persons. They no longer adore us nor do they believe we can possibly be right...EVER!! BUT HERE IS THE THING...Teenagers are not all bad!! PLEASE KEEP READING... Teenagers help you keep yourself in check. They are honest to a fault and will never let you look too ridiculous. They really have a lot to say. You may have to wait on them to arrive home or sift through their jargon and sometimes undesired language to get the message, but I promise you it is worth hearing. They are mini-versions of our worst and best selves. The hot buttons they push are likely the ones we pushed on our own parents. Try to navigate these moments in the way you WISHED you had been managed. Lastly, despite the fact that they appear to not care at all about you, your opinion, or your desires... they DO!!! Continue to love them and be present when they show up. Find common ground and shared interests to bind you closer as the world tells you you have nothing in common with the younger generation. Don't believe the lies and follow your heart. Give them the same patience you did as you taught them to walk, eat, and crawl. YOU WERE SUCCESSFUL THEN.. and you will be again. Your reward will be an adult friend who you will love and probably find you actually like as well. For Mack and Alex who are now 16 and 15... this momma loves you and forever will. Even when I lose my mind a little over something like clean rooms or spills on the kitchen floor, I will ALWAYS remain your biggest fan, advocate, and cheerleader. There is nothing you can't do and I know these teenage years are tough, but you will get through them and I could not be more proud!

Shock and Awe and a Dose of Reality?

This week I have had the honor of participating in the Summer Connections Conference with Mooresville Graded School District. I have found myself in shock and awe that I can say those words. For several years, EVERY TIME I heard that district mentioned I rolled my eyes and internally made the very immature "gag me" gesture. Their system was touted as being all that and a bag of chips and jealousy, envy, and lack of understanding ruled my attitude. BUT HERE IS THE THING.. the folks I have met are truly wonderful instructors. They are dedicated, hard working, and inspired to continually reflect upon their teaching in a transparent and honest way. One underlying theme that I applaud them for is THEY LOVE KIDS! ALL THE STAFF and ALL OF THE KIDS!! They seek first to build relationships and then push hard with material for mastery and excellence. Their superintendent said "you'd better get really comfortable with being uncomfortable!" Great mantra for growth, change, and passion! SO... hats off to Mooresville Staff and Students. I am not too proud to admit.. I am stealing your ideas and pray they take flight in my little part of the world!

Lessons from Ants

In my attempt to get healthier and also decrease the amount of money I spend, I have taken to the great outdoors for my daily workout. I walk along the dirt road we live on and some adjacent property to keep things interesting. In the past week I have noticed straight dark lines along the dirt road. I really have ignored them once I made certain they were not snakes. I finally took a moment to inspect the line and discovered there were hundreds of black ants working like crazy! Each day, cars, tractors, people, and animals disrupt these hard working lines. During a much needed rain storm, the line was totally obliterated. YET.. the ants keep working with great determination. It seems that they are focused on what they believe to be important and do not waiver from their desired outcome. They do not freak out over every little thing, but just stay the course and are not deterred by set backs. IF ONLY, I could be so focused. Imagine if we forgot about all the other "stuff" in our lives and really, diligently, worked on making life better for those we love. Despite the fact these little boogers annoy the heck out of me at times, I am thankful for their presence and the lessons I can learn from them.

Rainy Day Persperctive

Rainy days used to really bother me. They meant having to stay inside and "having nothing to do" (a kid's worst case scenario). At this point in my life, I cherish the rain. I've learned how necessary it is to my survival...for crops, for drinking water (I have a well), and for cleaning my body and all the messes I make. This morning, I will put on my very best old tennis shoes and walk my daily walk for improved health. Instead of dreading the rain, I pray fervently that it will cleanse me of negativity, doubt, dismay, jealousy, dread, and a bevy of other baggage I selfishly hold on to. The rain may hide tears and sweat while both cleanse me of the natural state of chaos in my calamity causing conscience. It may muffle my song that I am too self-conscious to belt in order to find that better self that lurks within. Raining in your space? Join me.... we have some puddle jumping joy to discover!!

You Teachers and Your Summers Off... A New Perspective

As a teacher (and one who loves her job!), I get a little weary of hearing phrases like "it must be nice to have the whole summer off", "well, you don't work THAT hard... you have all summer off", or "I bet it's hard having all summer to do whatever you want", etc. While I cannot deny I have nine weeks where I do not report to a school, prepare lessons, or grade papers, I never, ever stop being a teacher. I have traveled around the world and inevitably run into somebody who knows me as their teacher or their kid's teacher. Life under a microscope is not always easy. I'd like to share with you a bit about my "job". I have curriculum to teach to 100+ students. Some of them are gifted readers who test at the 12th grade level and some are reading at the same level as an entry level kindergartener. (I teach sixth grade mind you). I have paper work, technology, meetings, training, evening duties, blah, blah, blah... BUT that is not really what I do. You see my mission is to LOVE kids. Each year I have the honor of meeting over one hundred sweet, precious souls. They come to me nervous and worried and have stories that would absolutely break the hardest heart. Many are hungry, dirty, hurting, and often feel so unloved they see no purpose in trying to better themselves. Others come to me with a support group that looks awesome on paper, yet they struggle with burdens that many adults tell them are unimportant or "it's just a part of life". During our time together, I try, and try, and try to LOVE them through it. I get frustrated and annoyed, but try every day to treat them as I would want MY boys to be treated. I forgive their shortcomings, their attitudes, and even their inconsistent use of deodorant. WE (in partnership) work hard for 180 days. We learn, cry, laugh, love, and hopefully leave each other better off having known one another. But the story does NOT end here. Once I have come in contact with a student (whether I teach them or not), they are mine. Mine in the sense that I worry about them, celebrate their successes, empathize with their hurts, and want only the best for them. After 20 years "in the business", I have roughly 2,000 "clients" to "deal with". It is an honor and nothing makes my heart more happy than to hear "HEY, MRS. FREEMAN" across a parking lot or meet the next generation I pray I get to teach. Here is the thing that I want you to take from this tomfoolery: As much as I hate to admit it, I NEED the summer. I need to have a brief mental, emotional, and academic break to prepare for a new batch of students. In order to be my best, I need to renew and reflect upon what I did well and what I need to improve. My summer appears leisurely, but it's nine weeks to give my family all they have been denied as I pour energy into "somebody else's kids". They deserve it and I am grateful for the opportunity. From this day forward, when you see a teacher in the summer. Give them a hug, high five, or handshake realizing they are mourning the loss of their "kids from last year" and trying to muster the necessary energy the "new batch" deserves. I HAVE NEVER REGRETTED MY JOB CHOICE.... just sometimes question my "friend" choice when they choose to be so inconsiderate of the people who walk this path with me and the profession I love dearly.