Of Neighborhood Dogs

Misty is the oldest of the dogs, having been born in 1995. You'd think that with seniority would come a little respect. The youngsters, however, consider her one of them, and frequently invite her out to play. She will join them in a heartbeat to fulfill her social obligations, but let a squirrel flick its tail in her direction, and off she races. Max is about six years old, Hermione might be three, and Buddy, I'm not sure about... possibly he's the same age as Max.

Hermione is a sweet boxer, a faithful follower of her owner, Marlene. I mention this because Marlene has been letting my dogs out of the house for me for the past three years (her older brothers did it for the three years before that). She gets home before I do. Hermione follows Marlene whenever she comes over here, providing companionship and protection.

Buddy lives across the street and he, too, is a faithful companion to the family that lives with him. Neither he nor Hermione ever get into dog fights with my dogs, and neither will aggressively go after another dog without being attacked first. Except Max.

Max, the little black schnauzer, has an urge to prove that he is as bad as the next big dog, and will make a bold move against any dog who crosses Max's territory. When Misty sees that Max is in danger of getting killed by another dog, she will sprint into action, her maternal instincts rising to protect the youngster she raised from a pup. Intervening in this aggressive manner is enough to incite any big bad dog to chase her instead of Max. It works every time. Max escapes without a scratch, and Misty runs as fast as a hurricane wind. If she thinks she can't outrun the big bad dog on her tail, she will lay down and demonstrate her submissive skills, and if she is lucky, the fight is over. If not, she'll come home with a gash on her backside or on her face, and I will  get all upset because someone's big bad dog was running loose and chasing my good and innocent little dogs. How do you ask someone to keep their dog leashed or fenced when you let your own dogs run free once in awhile?

Our neighborhood is friendly in that way. We know each other's pets by name. This is far more personal than knowing husbands' and children's names. Pets come and go more frequently, and they seem to make their rounds of the neighbors' yards, in a non-invasive or non-destructive manner. None of our neighbors have fences to prevent animals from wandering about, and so I am amazed that more people don't complain. The truth is, there really isn't much to complain about. There must be about 30 or more cats and dogs in this neighborhood, and for the most part, they stay in their own territories. The ones who didn't are not alive today. A couple were hit by cars, a few wandered far from home and never came back. Only rumors remain to explain their sudden disappearance. Some may have been stolen right from the street, but over the years, altogether, not many have disappeared or been killed.  

I seldom see them all together like I saw them when I came home from school today. The workshop I had attended let out a little earlier than expected, and I had already asked Marlene to come over and let them out, but I got home before she did. Seeing the opportunity to get a picture of the doggie friends, I got out my camera, while Marlene and her friend Mary Catherine tried to get the dogs together in a picture without themselves in the photo. I took two photos of all of them together with the girls, which are pretty cute, but since I don't yet have parental permission to use the photos on my journal site, I am not going to include those at this time.

However, the one above seems to tell a story. A story of canine camaraderie. 

Of Teaching and Mentor Training

Raining today, cloudy, muggy. Real warm and muggy. It looked like winter but felt like late summer. Very windy this morning... it nearly blew my umbrella out of my hand.

I've been in a mentor training workshop all day, and though I would rather be in the classroom teaching, I am so glad I was able to participate in the workshop. We are learning about the purpose of the teacher evaluation/assessment tool used in our school system, and how we (teachers) will be trained during the next two days to be peer observers so we can participate in the evaluation process.

I have never been a peer evaluator. After this workshop I will be certified to do so. I see this as another way to improve myself as a teacher. What better way to sharpen your own skills than to know that you have to observe them in another teacher, and that you will be required to give them important and relevant feedback after such an observation? Another teacher's future rests on such evaluations, by her peers and by her administrator. I take this job very seriously.

Teachers have to be evaluated every year to continue their licensure. There is a different procedure for beginning teachers than for experienced, tenured teachers, mostly in the number of observations each are required to have within a year's time, however, the result is the same: good teachers stand out and bad teachers are weeded out. It doesn't happen over night, mind you, either way. There are several observations that must be made over the year, so teachers can demonstrate their abilities, proving that they know how to do their job, and that they are good at it. I have been a teacher for six years. I'm past the novice stage, and entering the experienced stage. I am far from the expert stage, however.

I now have tenure, but even so, a teacher with tenure can slack off, slide off the effective teacher path she once started.  Teacher turn-over rate is steady each year. I want to be one of those who burns brighter as the career progresses rather than one who burns out.

Today I learned something new. Two more days, and I will be officially a trained TPAI-R mentor capable of completing a formal evaluation.

This was a good time for me to receive this training, to be reminded of why I do what I do, and how I do it, and how to recognize good teaching when I see it, how to recognize it when I do it.

Our principal reminds us nearly every month that we do wonderful things at our school, but we never "toot our own horns." It's true, we don't, but I feel uncomfortable tooting my own horn. She wants us to recognize the specific things we do that are benefiting the students, to tell parents what we do with books in the classroom, how we are teaching curriculum objectives, even naming those objectives for every activity we plan.

Parents are a savvy bunch, these days. They want to know what their kids are going to learn, and why they are learning it this year, or why they have so much homework, or not enough. Parents - those that are involved, that is - have a serious investment in their kids' education, and they want to support their kids at home with the help needed to learn new strategies and skills in academic areas.

We teachers want them to do just that. We need them on our team as much as they need us.

Oh, yeah, the pictures I had taken this evening as it rained. I was trying to capture the golden orange color of the atmosphere caused by the weather passing through. The camera did not pick it up very well, however, by adjusting the color button while editing, I could recapture somewhat the effect. I thought the round spots you see might be the raindrops, but then I thought they wouldn't look that round. Must be drops of mist on the lens even though when I checked the lens it looked clean. ... Amazing! Well, I thought it was pretty amazing.

Starts with the Letter G.

G is for Grizzly Bear and G is for Gene, who is almost a Grizzly Bear! Just kidding, Gene. As you can tell from the photo above, Gene is safer to cuddle with. Nix on the bear, though.

I'm using the assignments (from http://journals.aol.com/johnmscalzi/bytheway/)

to fill in when I don't have my own dialogue going. Sometimes doing the assignment helps me get away from my own inner dialogue, gives it a lighter direction than I might have taken had I just sat down and started typing without it. It's a diversion. Some folks get hooked on computer games. I get hooked on journaling. What can I say?

I enjoyed the Thanksgiving week so much. Rested. Began a book, and am now reading it every night.

Then came Monday morning.... oh, how I did not want to get out of bed this morning, particularly since my husband lay warm and sleeping beside me. He is off from work for a couple more days, and can lounge in the luxury of the warm bed and z-land for an hour or two longer. Many mornings he gets up before 5 a.m. to go to his job, so I wasn't even jealous that he could stay in bed today. I so love that bed. Especially on Monday mornings(and Saturday nights).

G is for Gravity!

Gravity seems to have more pull early in the morning. Ever notice how hard it is to get up out of bed? It's the gravity factor... gravity is stronger in the morning, that's what I think. The more you struggle against it, the harder it is to free yourself from it.

Somehow I made myself roll out of bed... yes, roll is the term to describe the action taken. We have a waterbed, you see, and the only way to get out of that bed is to roll over onto your side, over the edge, into a standing position. If you try to get out of bed any other way, you risk pulling something important out of place, and you don't want to start any day off with things pulled out of place. Not on any day of the week. I'd liketo add that once I got out of bed, I began to feel alive and ready to tackle the day's challenges and obligations.

I'd like to add that, but it wouldn't be true.

To be honest, I am like those Grizzly bears at heart. When the cold weather sets in, I'm ready to hibernate. I could easily stock up food stores for the winter. I'd get out the blankets, make some hot chocolate, set the books I want to read on the lamp table by my bed. Just put my favorite fuzzy slippers on my feet, long johns under my shorts (the shorts accommodate hot flashes), and a cami under the sleeveless undershirt (again to ease the hot flashes). Finally, a throw-size afghan to wrap myself up in when I'm not in the throes of a hot-flash, and I am good for the winter. All winter. Come, snow! Give it your best! I'm ready for you.

So going to work is particularly difficult in the winter months.

Well, enough about that. It's evening, and I'm typing on the computer. What am I doing here? I could be reading a good book before I go to bed!

Most importantly, Gis for God! The One who calls us by our name, who calls us His beloved. I am grateful for His Gift.

Finally, G is for Graham, a small city, elevation 600 feet, 8.1 square miles of prime real estate located between Greensboro and Raleigh, North Carolina. A great place to live, affordable, scenic, diverse, and the weather cycles steadily through four distinct seasons. I have lived here for over 30 years.

Check out the statistics at http://www.city-data.com/city/Graham-North-Carolina.html.

 

Christmas Questions from Robin

I found these questions from another AOL journaler. Thought I'd pass them on to my readers who haven't visited her yet.

From Robin http://journals.aol.com/robinngabster/Thesearethedaysofourlives/entries/1254

1. Do you already have your Christmas tree up? If so when did you put it up? If not when will you put it up?

No, I don't have it up yet. Steve helped me take the boxes down from the attic yesterday afternoon. Will probably go up after the 6th.

2. Do you have any particular theme when it comes to decorating your tree? Maybe you do all Disney ornaments? Only blue lights? Tell us how you decorate your tree. Kudos if you have a picture and post it. Generally, I try to include mostly ornaments that symbolize the Christian theme, such as stars, the Holy Family, some angels, colors of red, blue, and purple. Many ornaments are handcrafted by local artists. Also, I add the old homemade ones from when Steven was a child. I complement these with ornaments given to me by friends, add a few gold snow flakes and glass icicles, and my tree is good. I do favor the golds, whites, and blues, and love the blue and white lights. I'll post a picture as soon as it is up.

3. What is your all time favorite ornament? Only one. Kudos again if you have a picture and post it.  Can't think of my favorite at this time. Like them all.

4. How many stockings do you hang and are any of them for pets? And...where do you hang them? (Not everyone has a fireplace) We do hang them on the fireplace. We'll probably have five, two for Max and Misty, our dogs. Yes, they get Christmas too.

5. Tell us about one of your Christmas traditions. On Christmas eve, we invite some friends over for an afternoon of Christmas cheer, and in the past we have exchanged presents at that time. Our kids were small then. Then, after they went home, we would go to another friends' home and have a Christmas Eve evening with them and their kids, stay up somewhat late, and reminisce. We play some loud family games, have refreshments, and exchange gifts with them too. These two visits were our family time on Christmas Eve. When our son was a boy, we would each open up one present before we went to bed, and the of course, in the morning he would unwrap Santa's gifts. On Christmas Day we always drive up to my husband's family home and have dinner with all the in-laws, the nieces and nephews, great nephews, and open presents. All our kids are grown now, but we still make the drive. And we visit Granny Collins, our oldest living matriarch.

Of a Fish Pond in the Front Yard

Here is the promised slide show of the pond.

Click on view larger above to choose between slideshow or scrapbook view.

Here they are, somewhat in chronological order. Many of you have seen the pond in its days of glory. So glad I took pictures of it as soon as I got the digital camera. I didn't think then that some day more than half of the pond would be drained and filled in.

It was a lot of maintenance, and I mean back-breaking maintenance. I suppose if Steve had the proper equipment he could have solved the problem differently, but when the pond leaks to within 12 inches of the bottom, and the fish are just barely swimming around, something drastic has to be done.

He tried patching it, he tried working with the pump, but could not find the source of the leak. It recurred too often. Finally, he gave in, relocated the fish temporarily, then filled in the hole.

That was about four months ago. There's grass growing where it used to be, but the little pond remains. It looks strange, though. I'm used to seeing a longish, over 30-foot length pond in the yard, but, as you can see in the last two photos, now there is a pond a third that size.

The fish do not show any signs of trauma from having been moved, and now that winter is approaching, they will settle down at the bottom and wait for the frozen season to pass. Still, when I look outside our front window and see the markings of what used to be, I feel sad. It's like a surgery has been performed, something removed, a big scar to show for it. I do miss it.

I'll take pictures of the winter pond when the snow covers its frozen surface. In the spring, all will come alive again. There will be renewal. Come back and visit!

Collection Photo Shoot Entry

Your Monday Photo Shoot: Your Collection

Have something you collect? Then this is the Photo Shoot for you:

Your Monday Photo Shoot: Let us see your collection of whatever it is you collect. Thimbles, NASCAR collectables, Star Trek figurines -- what it is, let's see those tchotchkes!

I found this assignment at http://journals.aol.com/johnmscalzi/bytheway/entries/5099

I wanted to show off my fish collection. I don't have many, but I love to collect fish, which I suppose is my way of relating to my husband's interest of catching fish. He also has pursued his interest even further by building a pond in our front yard, where he maintains a quiet, natural style habitat for keeping Koi.

However, we have one thing in common when it comes to fish: we like eating them, at least the salt-water variety. We both enjoy watching the koi and catfish swimming around the outdoor pond as well.

For me, the collecting began at a super flea market held one year in Burlington. That's where I  found the two older pieces (the brown one in front second from left, and the blue whale-like creature toward the back left, between the soapstone and the great wood fish.

The little blue and white one in front middle I bought at a North Carolina Aquarium, but I don't remember which one. That was also many years ago. It's hand made from clay, painted and glazed, very heavy for its small size. There's a small wooden one in the front row, I found at one of the shops in Concord Mall, and the blue and white porcelain one on the right is very delicate. Found it near Beaufort on one of our trips to the coast during the past five or six years. The two soapstone fish at far left and far right in the back were found in a mall shop in Chapel Hill back when Steven was an undergrad at Carolina. They were on sale, and I had to have them. The large wood fish in the middle back comes all the way from Jamaica. I wanted a souvenir to bring home from our cruise on the Caribbean three years ago, and there were hand carved fish at every stop, so I picked this one up. The wood grain colors and the carving marks make it interesting to look at and hold. The little blue and white fish in the front far left is made from some kind of wood, painted. It's actually a whistle. Makes a pleasant sound very much like a flute. Can you see the two brass goldfish? They are a dark green, very heavy.  I don't have any koi, however, I am looking for one to add to my collection.

My husband collects fish, too. The real, water-breathing, swimming, alive in the pond kind. If you look at the pictures (2-4), you can see a few of the koi. He has about thirty altogether. There was a time when he had near a hundred, but that was when he kept goldfish in the pond as well. He's removed the goldfish since they were a thriving population and were reproducing too quickly. There are catfish in the pond with the koi, however, the catfish aren't showing up very well in these photos. The black ones are hard to see in this dark water, but the white one stands out pretty good.

These fish are for viewing pleasure only... the only fishing that goes on in this pond is when Steve has to net them to remove them for relocation purposes, like when he remodels the pond, or is searching for a hole in the liner.

The biggest difference between his collection and mine is that his fish are higher maintenance then mine! His cost more than mine, they eat more than mine, they sometimes die, and there's all that yard work to keep everything looking as good as it does. Most visitors like his fish more than mine.

Thanks, John, for the assignment!

Thinking About the Meaning of Advent

I went to the address below after I got an email from the Daily Dig people.

http://www.bruderhof.com/articles/MeaningOfAdvent.htm?source=DailyDig

There was an article about the Meaning of Advent. I read it, then responded to it.

For me, Advent is a time of reflecting and rethinking about what I'm doing. It reminds me of what many of us are waiting and hoping for: the coming of our Lord. Unlike the gentleness of the manger scene we are familiar with which marks His birth into humankind, justice will be served at the Second Coming with apocalyptic results, and a new world will begin. I hope to see people recognize him in others, acting like he's working right beside them. Acting like they are serving him, like every man is his brother. I wonder, then, if we were to demonstrate that kind of Christ-like behavior the world over, would the apocalyptic version have to take place?

As Mary waited for her baby to be born long ago, a Christian is expecting Christ to be born within himself as well.

The idea of putting up a tree this year seems less appealing to me the older I get. I look back and see the attempts we make to let people know we love them. The gift buying was fun when the kids were younger, but it doesn't seem necessary, nor practical now that they've grown. Still, I want to maintain the hope and joy of the Season. I don't know what I will do that is different. But something will be different. I am cocooning this season! 

Here are a couple of other sites to visit for an explanation of the Christian Holy Season of Advent:

http://www.cresourcei.org/cyadvent.html

http://www.spirithome.com/advent.html

Rested, Stuffed, and Content

The day is nearly over and the dinner went well. Breaking with the family tradition was not at all bleak, nor lonely. It was peaceful and restful.

By the time Steve got home from work, it was 7 pm,  and the stuffed roasted turkey was golden and ready to be carved, the Ruby Gold roasted potatoes and acorn squash were tender, and the green bean casserole and the yellow corn probably put us over the top.  

After the dinner, we sat down for a piece of Steven's birthday cake. His birthday was Tuesday, but we were celebrating it on Thanksgiving Day this year.

I don't bake birthday cakes anymore. "Been there, done that." When he was a child, I'd bake him a special cake. Each year, it was a different theme reflecting an interest of his. One year, the cake looked like a baseball mitt, another year, it looked like a bowling ball and pin. He was a State fan, I decorated it red and white. I read books about how to decorate cakes, and I bought the supplies I would need to make fancy or funny cakes. But all that seems so long ago now. I had the time to indulge in baking back then. I had time to make gifts of baked goods for my friends and family. Mostly, though, I had the interest to do these things.

But now, I'm into time-saving chores as much as possible, and I know a place that makes the best Bavarian creme-filled cake with whipped cream topping... the Super Wal-Mart Bakery! No, seriously, these cakes are better than the ones I have bought at the local bakery, and the price is lower. I asked them to trim it in Carolina Blue, the color of his #1 institution of education, where he attends Pharmacy school.

If I had known that Steven was going to show up at our house yesterday with more than half of a red-velvet cake, I probably wouldn't have bought the Bavarian creme-filled cake with whipped cream topping. As it was, his girlfriend had baked it for him, from scratch, no less! The holes in the icing left behind from the candles made me laugh... I tried to imagine 27 candles on the cake. I thought it might have looked like a bonfire, but Steven assured me they all fit and looked very nice on his cake. I had made some hot tea right away so we could havea slice, and it was delicious. Even the cream cheese icing was homemade. Kudos to her. It warms my heart to know that someone loves him enough to bake him a homemade cake.

Still, I had the problem of the birthday cake I had hidden away for him. We decided to have a piece for dessert after our Thanksgiving dinner. Of course, by then we were all too stuffed for cake. After we had cleared away the dishes, loaded up the dishwasher, and washed the pans, however, we found room for a piece of birthday cake. Then he packed up some leftover turkey and roasted potatoes and half of the cake, and left for his home in Durham.

It's been a good day. I am not stressed out wondering where the day went. We talked as we ate. I learned about my son's new job as an intern at a pharmacy in Durham. It was nice to have a quiet, family sit down meal, just like we had back when he was a kid. It was just what I needed. Maybe just what we all needed.

Indeed, it was a day to be thankful for.

 

Turkey is in the oven!

It's almost 2:30, and the turkey is in the oven! You might think I started a little late, but not really. My husband won't be home from work until 7 pm, so actually, it's right on time.

The first thing I did this morning, after I steeped myself a hot cup of tea, was to check the internet for information about how to roast a turkey. When the AOL news screen came up, there was a link to watch a video on how to prepare and roast the turkey, so I clicked on it. That gave me confidence.

This is probably the second Thanksgiving Turkey I have ever roasted, the first one being about 20 years ago when I thought family might come to my house for Turkey dinner for a change. However, despite that I had called everyone and invited them over for the day, there was a major no-show (driving too far for them, and again, breaking with tradition of having it at the in-laws). When I heard no one was coming, we packed everything into the car and drove to the in-laws because we didn't want to have Thanksgiving without them.

Yesterday, I had experienced the rush to get everything I would need to make the dinner my son and husband would appreciate most: turkey, not ham, and all the trimmings. At the Super Wal-Mart, my first surprise came when I looked for the turkey in the poultry section of the store. They were all huge, and frozen. I remembered Steve suggesting I could just buy the breast. As I considered the possibility, I checked the weight and the price. It was $12 something for the 6 pound breast. Hmm, a possibility. Then I continued the quest for a smaller, thawed out whole turkey. A genleman standing beside me studying the selection of frozen turkeys seemed as puzzled as I did. I looked at him and said, "Don't they have any thawed out turkeys here? I don't have time to thaw one out." He nodded and said that's what he was looking for. Apparently this was his first time looking for a turkey the day before Thanksgiving.

I checked out other displays in the poultry area, and sure enough, came across a section filled with thawed out Perdue turkeys of various sizes. Remember the $12 turkey breast? Well, for $5 more, I could have the whole turkey, so being the big saver that I am, I picked up that thawed out 15.3 pounds of turkey flesh and set it in my basket, satisfied with my decision. I would worry about what to do with the leftovers later.

The next big surprise came after I had rinsed and patted dry the turkey, when I tried to stuff the turkey with the Pepperidge Farm dressing I had made. It kept falling out all over the counter as I spooned it in. It was awkward holding up the turkey while I shoveled spoonfuls of the dressing into the two cavities. In the end, I found it easier to scoop up the bread stuffing with my clean hands and put it where it needed to go.

Finally, I set the oiled, stuffed, and seasoned turkey down into the heavy duty foil roasting pan (something I can throw away after dinner, and not have to clean up), and placed it in the pre-heated oven. I'll check it every hour to make sure it's roasting properly and in a timely fashion, but the tips I read on the Internet this morning suggested I not baste it often to prevent valuable heat from escaping the oven, which would cause an increase in roasting time.

I put some clothes in the washing machine. Steven is reading a book, and I'm going to sit down for awhile and read mine as well.

It's a nice quiet day, and I'm enjoying the time off from work, thankful to be able to say that I have time off from work to do this. I hope everyone has special time with their loved ones today.

So glad that Leo is recovering from his heart attack. Half my church must be related to him in some way... we've been praying for his health ever since we heard the news last week-end.

I don't know where my mother is again, but I do know she will be on her way to California on December 5th to check out a possible home to live in. She'll be closer to her sons, and away from the situation she has been involved in for almost a year that has us all concerned. I was hoping she could come up to be with my family, but she couldn't. I continue to pray that her needs of the day are taken care of and that soon she will be in a place of comfort and safety.

 

 

 

 

Breaking the Thanksgiving Tradition, and Being Thankful

You can view them as a slideshow or as a scrapbook if you click on View larger above. For my family and friends to enjoy. Ah, me.

Since I'll be missing them all, I am placing these pictures in my journal as a reminder. Sorry we couldn't be there with you all. I also included some shots of friends... don't have too many, pictures that is, because only recently acquired the digital camera. Sad. I have so many great pictures to post but they're not digital.

It's Wednesday and tomorrow is the day when many people, (at least in the USA) will be preparing the Thanksgiving feast for their families, their friends, and I hope, for those who do not have the means to prepare their own meals. It is a day steeped in tradition for millions of families.

I am going against tradition this year. I am not going to visit my in-laws for the day, as we have done for the past thirty years. I am going to plan my own Thanksgiving feast here in my own home and begin a new tradition.

It sounds cold and unthinkable to break away from tradition, and it is not a comfortable undertaking. To break away from family tradition will not affect only myself, so I had to make sure this was a thing that could be done without hurting feelings or causing great familial conflict. We live about a 2 hour drive from the rest of the family, so for the past 30 years, my husband, son, and I have made the trek several times a year to partake of the family traditions. In the early years of raising children, there were birthdays to drive to, Easter Sunday dinner, Mother's Day, Father's Day, the Fourth of July, and Christmas were other times when we got together with our family.

Year after year we would drive to visit them, to share in the meals, the laughter, watching the children grow, watching each other grow older, sharing time with the older aunts and uncles and grandparents. As time passed on, so did the older relatives. First a grandparent, then another, then an uncle, an aunt, some distant relatives. Stories were shared from the older generation at these gatherings, the same stories. In the present, the children have become the older relatives, and the grandchildren have started to marry and have children of their own. We older ones, formerly the parents, are now the grandparents, and the great-aunts and great-uncles. The family tradition continues. The house is getting utterly overcrowded!

 Do I really want to break it?

I don't want to break it. I want to change it. It will have to change at some point anyway. At some time in the future, when the matron of the family has passed on, we will want to start our own family traditions, of cooking the meal in our own homes, of having our children and grandchildren come to our house for the day.

So, this week, I am going to break away.

This is not to say that spending time with the extended family has been meaningless. On the contrary, I have always enjoyed our family visits. I've looked forward to them, and planned for them. My brothers and sisters-in-law have been great friends right from the start. There were times when they were my only friends, and our visits each month and on holidays were the highlights of the year for me and my husband. We have practically raised our kids together, watching them grow up, taking pictures at every gathering, making video movies, treasuring the younger years with a passion. We've always been very close. I will always remember with fondness those days of family gatherings.

Yet, our kids are all grown now. Many have completed their college education, and a few have started their own little families. Time does not change, but people do. It's time to start something new.

Time is the valuable commodity here. It seems to go on and on forever, yet we never seem to have enough of it. We all get the same amount of it from day to day, and yet we know that time is running out. So the important thing, I think, is what you do with your time. If you want to live in this world, you need money to pay for the things you perceive as necessary. For the majority of us, that means you have to have a job, and for many, a well-paying job is even more necessary. Working uses up a grand portion of that allotted time each week, and time keeps moving forward, pushing us along with the current of daily events, personal and global. It's going to pass on with or without us. 

People take up our time, in various ways. Our friends and family want a part of that time, rightly so. Relationships take time to build, to nurture, to maintain over the years. The care of our homes and our bodies take time. See how fast either falls apart when they are neglected. When one's personal needs are provided for, however,one is able to take the next step in living a mature, self-actuated life. Serving and providing for the needs of others, though a humble and charitable profession, also takes up time. And if one has other areas of interest, like hobbies or other creative endeavors, only time given to the pursuit of these can nurture and develop one's inborn talents. It's a wonder one has time to sit and read a book!

Alas, we try to keep up with the changes in our lives as this forward rush propels us into the unknown that lies ahead. Some may experience it as a surfer, balancing on a perfect wave. Thrilling and exciting, it leaves one breathless and in awe. Others are walking as one cautiously groping her way through the darkness of a sacred cave, knowing that soon a distant glowing light will appear to signal that she is home. Still others feel the forward movement as one climbing a great mountain, running a marathon, treading water, or even, as I felt last week, as one drowning. However it is felt, one thing is for certain: it doesn't stop pushing us along until we take our last breath.

I am thankful for the time I am given, however short or long it may be, however I may fret about the things I have to do from week to week, or even day to day. Before work, and before play, before reading, or sleeping, or eating, before friends, and before family, I must give some time to be in the presence of the One who set the moon and planets in motion, who placed the stars in the sky, and created the sun that warms us and gives us light for half the day. I am thankful for His grace and goodness in my life.

I am verythankful for my husband and my son, the two men whose being forever changed mine. Though we are three separate beings now, I remember that once, we were one, and I remember all the joy and newness of our new life together long ago. Though time has turned my hair gray, the memories are still youthful and vibrant. I am thankful for a brain that remembers them!

I don't know exactly how Thanksgiving dinner at my house will play out tomorrow. I just know that I am going to do it. Turkey or ham? I haven't even decided. Probably that decision will be made at the grocery store. More later on how that went.

I have to go now, lot's of work to do for tomorrow's Thanksgiving meal!

Of Dreams and Dreaming

I wrote this Saturday, 11-19-05)

I'm just getting over some kind of virus. That has probably contributed to the malaise that has brought me down these past two weeks. Today was the first day in about a month that I could sleep late without thinking about what I would have to do as soon as I got up. I lay there in the luxury of warmth and comfort, and dozed back off to sleep.

Then, a sort of dream worked its way into that almost awake zone:

I am in the classroom, and the regular teacher and I are cleaning up the room. The kids are clearing out their desks and cubbies, and piling their math kits and other materials alongside of one wall. They haven't left the room yet, so for awhile, there is the feeling of chaos as kids move back and forth and around the room, and the books and materials laying on the floor. They trample over strings of beads, and one student is collecting up decks of cards, left over from a previous lesson. I intercept him and take the box of cards, continuing to walk around gathering up the decks of cards, attempting to place them in the math boxes that are missing them. The teacher and I exchange glances as the kids, filing out of the room, make upbeat comments to us. There is a feeling of relief, that something has ended. There is big messy room to clean up and put back into order, books to put away, and math kits to put back together.

I was thrilled that I could remember the dream in the first place. There was a time when I could easily recall 3 or 4 dreams each night. Those were in the days when I was not working full-time, before I began teaching, and I had the time to record them as soon as I woke up.

But one thing about the dream did not thrill me. I had dreamed about school. My work. On a Saturday morning. Well, at least it had a suggestion of completion and relief. I still don't know what it means, but I haven't really sat down to analyze it yet.

There is something to be said for paying attention to dreams, though. I learned this rather late in life. But as it is said, better late than never.

Back in the mid-90's, I began to do some serious soul searchingabout who I was, where I was going, and what I wanted to do with my life. As a result, I began to pay attention to my dreams. I began to look at what they were telling me. Although I've been one who has been recalling dreams from the time I was a child, I had never made attempts to find meaning in them. For the most part, dreams were fanciful indulgences, and I was more of a curious onlooker than an active participant. I was thrilled by the flying dreams, troubled by the dark halls and doorways I often encountered, and totally intrigued when I was drawn into walking down stairways into other realms. Dreaming was entertainment for me, not unlike reading a good book.

I didn't understand any of these dream elements. I simply enjoyed them. That is, until in my forties when I began to do some personal research into the world of dreams, dream imagery, the meaning of signs and symbols we encounter, and other more advanced concepts like lucid dreaming. I began to look at the content of my dreams, the imagery, mood, setting, time, colors, and characters, and even recorded significant dialogue. I recorded this information dutifully, attempting to remain true to the dream story without adding interpretation. No drugs were involved. Just good, old-fashioned sleeping. The result is a 3-inch binder filled with typewritten pages of dreams encompassing a period of three or so years.

Dreams can affirm your direction, or demonstrate when you are involved in something which goes against your inner compass. A trusty dream character may suggest a word or make a gesture, offering approval or signaling disappointment. Challenges will be made in a dream, battles fought, foes defeated, and villages saved. Children may be lost then found, rivers are passages into new life, and a bird transforms into a prophetic woman right before your eyes. In a dream, a baby speaks like a wizened old man, a visitor gives you a tour of a building, and rooms have a lot more to tell you if you recognize the objects and their meaning. Doors invite, darkness is sinister or delightful, and a snake's bite provides healing strength. Dream imagery can whisper words, like keys to hidden secrets in one's mind. Unlocking the mysteries of who we are and what we are meant to be can be found in the questions raised by our dreams.

Even more importantly, the Word of Godholds the answers to the questions raisedby our living and by our dreaming. If one wants to know how to respond to the world or to individuals, one has only to read the stories of men and women who encountered the Lord in the trials and blessings of their lives to find examplesof what is good, and holy, and acceptable to the Lord. Our Lord's persistence in communicating to us the Way of His magnificent plan is generally, through the ages, ignored by the masses, and recognized by the few who took the time to listen, to pray, and to wait.

Dreams, and visions, the daytime counterpart, played a significant role in many of these encounters and communications between man and his Maker.

When the Divine speaks to the people in the Bible, the images He uses to get their attention and gain their understanding are varied, often powerful and frightening. Jacob's dream of the angels ascending and descending the heavenly ladder, Abraham wrestling with an Angel one night as he slept on the ground, and the dry bones in the valley of the prophet Ezekiel's dream, foretelling a time when the dead shall raise from their graves, refleshed, are not to be dismissed as "just dreams." Solomon, in a dream, asked the Lord for wisdom and understanding, and the Lord gave him this and more (1 Kings 3:3-15). God granted Daniel with understanding in all visions and dreams so that he could advise and counsel the king (Daniel 1:17-21).

Joseph had the gift of interpreting dreams, raising the status of dream interpretation because he analyzed the dreams of a king, and in doing so, followed the righteous path that lead to bringing wholeness to the family that had abandoned him as a child. The Lord spoke to the carpenter Joseph of Mary's innocence (Matthew 1:20-24) so that he would take her to be his wife. Dreams played a significant role in the lives of men and women throughout the ages.

Dreams play a significant role in the lives of people today. You only have to listen to them.

The following link is to a psychologist's website. If you would like to do further reading on the subject of dreams, and spirituality, it is a good place to start.

http://www.guidetopsychology.com/dreams.htm

http://www.guidetopsychology.com/spirit.htm

 

Of Being Tired, Cleaning the Windshield, & Immersion

November 6, Sunday

It's all catching up to me... the work, the plans, the teaching, the needs of the kids, the needs of the world... it all weighs down on me. When I come home, it's crash time.

I was talking to other teachers, and they report similar experiences, whether they have children at home or not. The day is very intense, and for most of them starts around 5 or 6 a.m., and doesn't end until they get home, for some that is 5:00 and for some that is 7:00. But it's not like they can rest when they get home. Most have to bring their work home to catch up or to begin plans for the following week.

One would think one could get all their work done in the day allotted. I thought I could. I thought that if I stayed at school until 6:00 p.m. I could get the bulk of it done, and even look into the next week to begin putting materials and plans together for the week following. The several times I did this, I found that I didn't have as much time to do my work as I had hoped for.

Meetings and workshops take up large chunks of after school time. Meetings needed to coordinate all the events that are being planned for the school year, and workshops to introduce or revisit a new teaching strategy or approach.

Reading and responding to important email messages from the staff and administration takes up time.

Updating progress and maintaining files takes up time. Entering data into the EC data base, which is a very slow process at school, takes up too much time. The other alternative is to take it home and do it after everyone has gone to bed.

When you stay after school, you become available for anyone who walks into your room.

A parent walks in with concerns. You are glad to see the parent because you've been trying to reach them by phone. An hour later, the phone rings, and another parent wants to talk about her concerns. When you finally return to your classroom, and the work you need to get done for the next day, it is almost 4:00.

A teacher comes to you with her questions, an observation, ideas, or with classroom needs. So, being the teacher you are, you will sit down with her and address the problem at hand and try to work out a plan. Other times, I am the one seeking advice or ideas from other teachers, and I walk into their rooms, and they are available to me.

Teachers support each other in this way, and provide suggestions, advice, and ideas for helping each other deal with the day-to-day as well as long term issues one encounters in the classroom. Teachers do not usually work in an atmosphere of isolation and selfishness. Most often, they need what the more experienced have to share, and they will share what they know works for them, whether it be a lesson plan that went well, or a behavior management strategy that enables her to maintain class order.

Then, the weekend comes, and there are church activities, fundraisers, obligations to attend to. Sometimes I am asked to participate in something I should be involved in because I am a member of the Body of Christ, and often I will say yes. Other times I say no because I have already given much time to serving the public's children, and I rationalize that if I keep going like this, I will end up the sick one. Who will take care of me then? Who is going to step in and make sure my job gets done? There will be more to do after I get back, not less. There is no catching up.

This is the tired me talking. The dark side.

Sometimes writing is poetry and beauty and wonder, and other times, writing is scraping the bugs off the windshield of the car. I read that somewhere, so it's not my original metaphor. But I do understand that one. It's the one I think about when I have to clean out the clutter in my heart, to make it empty and ready to receive love from others.

Sometimes you have to stop and clean the windshield of all the nasty, gooey, grimy stuff that clutters up the view, the things that hit you as you travel through the week, that splatter across your mind's eye, muddying up the view you need to continue safely and purposefully.

Journaling is a way to do that. It's a way to clear your view so you can see the way to go, to find the right path. With a clear vision of where you are going, you won't have to worry about crashing into boulders and trees, or running into dead ends.

I wonder how others cope with their daily demands, when the weekend doesn't provide the rest one needs. I wonder, do they shut down? Do they take the time? Do they get what their bodies and minds and hearts and souls need to help them return to work on Monday?

____________________________________________

It is now 5:15 pm, and the day is almost over. It is amazing what a little time spent in the presence of others on a Sunday afternoon can do for a tired body. Full of my own concerns, I seemed unable to shake the cloud of depression that engulfed me this morning, and then I went to church. I spoke with a few friends before the service began, and then I saw Lucy.

Lucy is a beautiful Zimbabwean woman who started coming to our church with her children last year, and who is struggling to make ends meet as a single parent. She is going to school to get her RN license, and there are things happening in her life that are truly stressful and almost unbearable for her to handle at this time. She is very open about what her needs are, and today, I knew she needed a friend.

I invited her to lunch today, and she spoke about her children, her hopes and dreams, and her fears for the world they are experiencing. Tears came to her eyes more than once, and I knew she truly was bearing a heavy load. Another friend, Pat, joined us for this afternoon luncheon. She listened with compassion and understanding to Lucy's story, and nodded quietly, giving calm acceptance and assurance. We didn't have answers for her, only support. We were mothers sharing our experiences, we were sisters offering encouragement and understanding.

Today we could only offer our friendship and moral support, but as time brings us together, perhaps more will come of that, and perhaps Lucy will find strength to fight the battles that wear her down.

In spending time with Lucy, I felt that I had received some support for myself. She was grateful for the two hours we spent talking, and I wondered how long had it been since she has had a friend to talk to? For how long do any of us have a friend to talk to? Listening to her lovely accent as she voiced her concerns, and offering our friendship made for a pleasant, if not happy, two hours.

Sometimes what we need to talk about is too sensitive, or undesired, or only causes unsettling arguments.  Family issues, financial issues, marital issues, health-related issues, political and religious issues... Somehow you just know when it is appropriate to talk about something to another... somehow, you know when the timing is wrong, and so you wait for the right time. And sometimes, the right time just never seems to show up, and you put it off, and don't talk about the thing that you need to talk about, you put it away somewhere for a later, more opportune moment. Which never comes. You forget about it. For awhile, other things in the course of living one's life take your mind off of it.

There are not answers for everything that disturbs and troubles us. There are not cures for all the diseases that can ravage and steal the lives of young people. There will not always be happy days in the lives of those who are committed to doing Christ's work, and there are not enough hours in the day to get all one's work done. It is never done. At school, at home, at church... it is never done.

Maybe, if I could just accept that, I wouldn't have to deal with the feeling of being submerged by my work, trapped as in a vehicle that has strayed from the road, plunging into depths of dark, cold, river water. 

Several years ago, my college professor, Dr. Judith Howard, used a word on me that shed light on that feeling. I had gone to her as a student teacher and expressed the feeling of "drowning," the sensation of being overwhelmed by the new learning, the papers to write, the professional journals to respond to, the research, the shedule demands, and teaching experiences taking place in my life at that time.

She smiled and said, "Bea, you aren't drowning! You are immersed in your work! And that is a good thing."

I don't know why, but that encouraged me. She understood what I was going through, and that word just captured it at the time. Immersed.

In the former image, one is totally underwater, strugglingfor air, fighting to reach the surface for a breath. In the latter, one is absorbed in one's work.

The work doesn't drown me. It absorbs me.

I become the work.

Semantics? Maybe, but the image does help me get through the deeper, darker, faster moving currents of life.

 

 

Where Did My Ants Go?

The ants have died. All of them.

A few weeks ago, there were twenty hanging on at the surface of the ant habitat I had begun back in early August. Every couple of days, there were two less, one less, and over the past weeks they just died. No thanks to the black mold that seemed to spread from some unrecognizable source at the center of the habitat. It began as a white moldy substance which encased a dead ant laying in the tunnel, and within two weeks it had turned an ominous black, threatening to engulf the entirety of blue gel.

Back in the beginning of this experiment, I thought, sure, the ants will die, because all ants, good and bad, die. Whether in captivity or in my yard, they are going to live out their lives, and die. I had no problem with that. In fact, that would be fine. Not only would I have learned something from the daily observations, and fed my fascination with the living creatures by watching their tunnels grow, I would, in the end, have a beautiful, blue-gel masterpiece of perfectly aligned, curved, and symmetrical, ant-crafted tunnels which I would show off like a proud parent (”Look at what my ants did! Aren‘t they beautiful?”)… a one-of-a-kind original art work created by the much ignored ant (unless they are in your house) that no one but myself had thought to display.

I can’t even show off the blue-gel habitat. The dead ants are still stuck in the tunnels, decomposing. The black mold is spreading. The rest of the gel is a cloudy discolored bluish-gray, and dull. When I look at the pictures I took in the beginning, when they were in their heyday of youth and vigor, and the gel was clear and bright blue, I remember the sparkle and the energy they generated amongst themselves, and the spark that touched me. I was a child again, I was a kid, and I wondered as I watched. It was summer at that time. I truly felt, for a week, that I was a kid, and I could play, I could sit and stare and look like I was doing nothing even though I was probably more relaxed and rested than I had ever been before. Sounds silly, but sometimes you just need a break.

I laugh when I think about the first day I brought the ant habitat home and actually went outside. I tried to catch those first ten or so ants. That’s when I learned about different species of ants, and that carpenter ants are not ideal for ant farms because they don’t make very good tunnels, at least from a human observer’s perspective. Might serve a purpose and look great in old, dead logs laying on the forest floor, but not in blue gel. Now they’re gone, and I can’t even save the blue gel to display those wonderfully intricate tunnels.

I want to buy another one, though, and have it in the classroom for my students to watch the tunnels grow each day, and to share in their marvel. They could keep a journal, noting their observations from day to day, celebrate when east and west tunnels meet in the middle. Yeah, after Christmas would be a good time to start a new ant habitat for my classroom. Or two. I still want to compare habitats. Answer those questions I had in the beginning. I still wonder how the tunnels of the ants sent into space three years ago looked. Did they look like the tunnels my ants made?

So, if you know me, and are wondering what I want for Christmas… well, I really don’t want much. Just another ant habitat. The Blue Space Gel Ant Works… you can order them on line… you can get them in the nicer toy stores where science and learning toys are sold. Just a thought. It isn’t for me, really, it’s for my students. If I don’t get one for Christmas, I’ll buy one anyway. And if you have a kid at home who is losing interest in the video games, or who wants too many of them, consider the ant habitat. For 20 bucks you get the blue-gel ant farm, and for another $3 or $4.00, you can buy the ants. That is all… no further costs. No food to feed them. Nothing to do except sit back and enjoy, watch, wonder, and learn. You won’t be disappointed.

Except when they all die.