Ever heard a roomful of Kindergartners snoring?  Today I’m reading the book “A Snowy Day” to my class and they are to be acting it out.  They’re making snowmen and snow angels, climbing up snow mountains and sliding down.  They’re packing a snowball and putting it in their pocket.  And then they have to pretend they’re going to sleep.  And the snoring begins. Twenty little people curled up in fetal positions snoring as loudly as they can.  It was everything I could do not to laugh while I continued to read the book.  That’s the thing about kindergarten though – you never know what’s going to happen.

There’s nothing like hearing a group of little kids giggling about something silly.  Like the snowflake game.  Only it’s not snowflakes, it’s feathers.  We all sing a little snowflake song while the kids walk around the room and when the song ends we freeze.  Then I get to toss “snowflakes” at them and if any of the snowflakes touch them, they’re out.  The great uncertainly of how the feathers fly about means the kids could stand perfectly still and the feathers could miss them entirely, leading to squeals of laughter.  Or they could all land on someone’s head, leading to equally hardy squeals.  Today the biggest squeals came when I tossed them at my student teacher of course.  Life can be so simple.

There is such simplicity in getting to pick a partner for a dance or the smile on the face of the child who gets picked.  As adults, we dismiss these things as child’s play but the truth is that we too liked to be recognized by others, to be picked as someone special.  The excited intake of breath when I bring out a new instrument to be played or those aforementioned giggles seem to disappear as we grow up.  And what a shame.  The newness wears off, the cynicism and routine of life takes over and it seems childish to toss feathers in the air and giggle.

When was the last time you blew soap bubbles?  Or played in water, dirt or better yet, mud?  Or kicked or tossed a ball around?  When was the last time you played with a jump rope or, if you’re my age, jacks.  I loved jacks. There was time in our lives when these kinds of things were fun and we made time for them.  We had school all day, we had homework and we made time for fun.

I’ll be the first to admit that all I do is work anymore.  And when I’m not working I’m mindlessly checking out social media or watching TV as an escape.  Doing those fun things I did as a kid sound wonderful but at the same time are exhausting to even think about.  How in the world can I have time to do something fun?  I have so much to do.  It makes me less of a conversationalist as all I can think of to talk about is work.  Boring. And now I’ve taken on even more work that is completely out of my comfort zone.  The parts I can do I think I’ll do very well.  The out of my comfort zone stuff is going to take a lot of – you guessed it – work.  Can I afford not to do all this work?  I don’t know – I’m afraid to find out.  Isn’t life supposed to be about serving your purpose?  I feel like I’m trying to do that, but again, it’s not much fun.  Unless of course I live vicariously through those 5 and 6 years olds who squeal about feathers and pretend to snore.  Ok, maybe I don’t have to live vicariously with the snoring but I can still have fun watching kids play with feathers.

There is something magical about flying.  My dad marveled at the idea of flying, how something that heavy could actually get up in the air at all.  He shared his wonder with me, taking me to the airport to grab a snack and watch planes take off and land.  I maintain that today, loving the feeling of take-offs and landings, a flight being the only place where I can just sit and think and not have to do anything or be lulled to sleep by the sound of the engines.

Flying back from Grand Rapids yesterday, I found myself sitting in the front row of a tiny little plane and I could observe the flight attendant and her activities up close and personal.  At one point in my life, when I was floundering at my first attempt at college, I considered becoming a “stewardess” – it was the 70’s.  After all, I loved to fly, to travel and how glamorous! The young woman I was observing fit the image I had always had.  Fit and trim, she wore her wings on her professional dress, her hair, make-up and nails done beautifully and on her feet, over hose, she wore heels.

Self assured and articulate she did all of her duties quickly and yet with great detail.  When she finished her safety speech, as the plane began to taxi, she lost her balance a few times on those heels but never lost her composure.  In her dress and heels, she had to pull out her heavy seat and strap herself in, but not before she began preparation of the coffee and service.  Her movements reminded me of the opening scene from An American in Paris.  In a silent and graceful dance, in heels, she moved through the tiny space, turning things on and off, moving levers with her fingers and the tip of her shoe, squatting in the most graceful way, balanced on the toes of her shoes while moving drawers filled with bottled and canned drinks.

Later in those same heels, she pushed her trolly down the aisle, locking and unlocking the cart wheels with the toe of her shoe, balancing herself when the plane hit a bit of turbulence, always smiling and professional, taking time to speak to a young mother and her toddler along the way.  When finished, every detail was quietly taken care of, things put away, trash collected, counters and trollies cleaned, items restocked and fresh coffee prepared.  Then things locked up again, the same dance as before, using the toes of those heels to once again lock some things into place.

In the last ten minutes or so before we began to descend, I noticed her stand in front of the counter with her back to everyone and tried to figure out what she was doing.  I soon realized she was taking time to eat.  Quietly standing up and hiding her food, she took the few minutes she wasn’t working to throw something down.  She quickly rinsed it down with water and walked over to make another announcement before walking down the aisle one more time to check everyone and gather the remaining trash.

What I was watching was a person who took pride in what she did from the mundane to the essential, pouring coffee and making sure everyone followed the all important safety expectations.  The impeccable dress with the heels let people know that she not only took pride in her work but in how she presented herself.  I found myself feeling slightly proud of her as I watched her do manual labor, lifting, pushing and pulling heavy things on a tiny, moving plane, multi-tasking in a dress and heels and doing it with the grace that only women can do.  Not as glamorous as I imagined as a youngster, but still intriguing.  Think I would stick with flats instead of the heels though.

Today was a school closure day or a “snow day” for my district.  A missed snow day for me because I’m out of town, but my student teacher’s first as a “teacher”.  I was reading some posts on social media this morning with the usual “yay it’s snow day” from fellow teachers, but then I read one where a gentleman was going off on teachers for getting a day off when he, as a taxpayer, was paying for them to be off while he had to be at work.  In other words, teachers were basically  getting a day off and getting paid for it.  While nothing anybody said seemed to make a dent in his perspective, I thought I would address this issue as a person who has been in the middle of the education profession for nearly 30 years.

First and foremost, snow days aren’t so teachers don’t have to drive in the snow.  Don’t get me wrong – I HATE driving when it’s slick outside.  It’s totally stressful.  But I can do it, just like anyone else.  And I admit that I love the surprise in the middle of the week when I can sleep in and then catch up on all the things I haven’t been able to do at home because of all the time I spend on school things. What we need to understand is that when snow days are called, it is not for the teachers, it is for the students and their safety. Is it always the perfect call?  Well no, it’s the WEATHER.

In our district, there is a large percentage of students who qualify for free and reduced lunches and live at the poverty level.  So many of these students must walk to school and many do not have warm clothing to wear – no coats, gloves, hats, etc.  All it takes is a below zero windchill and we’re talking frostbite.  It’s not just a couple of inches of snow we’re talking here.  Another thing to consider is that because our high schools are spread apart and students may attend a high school out of their neighborhood, many of those students drive.  Sixteen year olds, some driving on slick roads for the first time.  Can their parents drive them?  Maybe.  Or should a bus full of special needs kids take the chance of having an accident?  Maybe the bus driver is great but the person who hits them isn’t.  The last little bit of sleet/snow last week caused two accidents within the 8 minutes it takes me to get home from school, one right in front of the middle school.

And teachers don’t get a paid day off.  Teachers contracts cover a certain number of days we must teach which is determined by the department of education.  We must fulfill those number of days and so most districts pad that number in case of school closure days.  If the district goes over this, the schools must make up the time.  The last time that happened, we had to add 15 minutes to every day of school for three weeks.  We don’t get that time off.  In any other profession, is something happens and you can’t make it to work, you don’t have to make up that time.

The other argument from this gentleman was that all teachers have to do is work 3/4 of a year and we get paid a years worth of salary, (which he kept reminding us he pays us as a taxpayer).  Yes, that would be wonderful if it were true.  My official hours at school are 8:15-3:35 with a half hour unpaid lunch.  That is what I’m paid for contractually.  I rarely leave before 4:30 and some days it’s 5:30-6:00.  I have come in on weekends and holidays because that time you see is my actual teaching time.  While I do get some prep time, it’s not enough.  So my own time is used to write lesson plans, grade, do budgets to order equipment and music, send home communications, prepare music for class and for choir, type up programs, fill out (required) surveys, write separate lesson plans for special needs students, create assessments and the list goes on and on.  This doesn’t include all of the required meetings and professional development. If you want to look at that as how I fill up the other quarter of my year, that works fine with me and if that’s the truth, I’m earning every penny of my paycheck.

Like all my teacher friends and colleagues, we knew what we were getting into so I’m not complaining.  I’m just not sure we knew there would be so much disrespect and lack of understanding from people who probably went through the public school system themselves and now apparently are able to hold down a job thanks in part to that education, but we knew we were doing it for kids.  Because as teachers who love kids, we understand that EVERYTHING we do has to revolve around what is best for kids.  What we teach, how we teach, how we model our own behavior, how high our expectations are for all of them and how we work to keep them safe.  And that includes the occasional snow day, something that is taken very seriously by the people who have to make that decision based on something as fickle as the weather.  It is not a decision made in isolation but it IS a decision that considers the safety of the most important commodity in our profession – the students.

 

At church a week ago, the pastor said something I’ve been thinking about since.  Researchers say that those who are the most vocal on social media do not actually  participate in or contribute to those causes they are the loudest about with either their time or money.  Now, I don’t know who these researchers are or why or how they research this kind of thing but it got me thinking as these things are apt to do.

It makes me think of my own experiences, looking at something from the outside.  It’s easy to critique or complain about something from the outside, only seeing those things you can or are allowed to see.  It’s easy to be the armchair quarterback and not be running around the frigid football field in January in Wisconsin.  You don’t have to invest anything to be an observer.  Again, it’s easy.

Think about it – the customer complaining to the fast food service worker who has never worked fast food.  A student who has never been a teacher. The organization member who has never served on a board.  A citizen who has never run for office.  You will never totally understand how things work unless you’re in the middle of it.  You will also never have the opportunity to make change if you’re not in the middle of it.

We’ve all done it.  Shoot, I served on a board for six years as an appointed member and thought I understood the inner workings until I became president of that same organization.  Not even close.  It was my wake-up call that if you really want to contribute to a cause you believe it, you have to sacrifice the time and become a part of the inner workings of that organization.

Making the effort to be a part of a cause or organization does several things.  First of all, if teaches you patience.  I’ve worked fast food.  I know what it feels like to be behind the counter during a rush.  My instinct is to put the food worker at ease when I go to the counter because I understand the stress so I tend to be patient.  Secondly it teaches you to listen.  I don’t assume I know everything so I listen first, then I see where my skills fit in and if I can help.  It’s not that I don’t want to jump right in a fix everything, but it’s a conscious effort to hold back, listen and learn first.  Lastly, I understand that others who are NOT in the middle of what I’m doing don’t completely understand, and may never understand the inner workings of what I do or about the organization I represent.  In this case, it is my job to just serve those people to the best of my ability and to be honest with them.  Not everyone will be happy, but then I know I’ve done my best.

So what is your cause or passion?  Are you involved or are you just giving it mouth service?  If you can’t contribute monetarily or with your time, are you living the lifestyle that represents what you believe?  Or are you just criticizing something you THINK you understand but don’t really because you’re not in the middle of it?  We can only see things through our own perspective but we can change our perspective if we are willing to see and listen and participate more in those things we feel passionate about.

For instance, instead of criticizing teachers, volunteer to serve in the classroom and help them.  Instead of complaining about government at any level, run for office or volunteer for a candidate you believe in.  Get a group together to beautify your neighborhood or serve at a soup kitchen or donate to the homeless.  If we all DID something about those things we talk about just imagine the positive difference we could make in the world.  We don’t have to agree with each other, we just need to do the thing we as individuals feel strongly about.  Everything else will work itself out.

Many times I’ve heard people say that you can see where people’s passions lie by looking at their calendars and their bank accounts.  Even the greatest orators of our time walked the walk as well.  What do you want to get in the middle of to make a difference in the world?

Have you ever watched a hummingbird sip nectar from a flower or feeder?  With it’s little wings flapping so quickly you can’t see them, they flit from flower to flower, taking a little here and a little there.  It’s a delicate operation, certainly not like, let’s say, an anteater who sucks up as many ants as he can at once, seemingly afraid he’s going to miss one little morsel.  While I like to think of my personality as more of a hummingbird, lately it’s more like the anteater.

It’s not like I don’t have enough to do.  I have a full time job, a full time husband (he might say otherwise), children and grandchildren, I serve on a board for an organization that I strongly believe in, I’m trying to write a book and keep up with a blog but apparently that’s not enough.  No, something I’ve always wanted to try, something I actually applied for over 15 years ago opened up and I’m helping out until someone permanent is found.  What the heck was I thinking?

I can’t decide if it’s just the learning curve or the age in play here, but I’m working hard to stay on top of things.  Why?  I remember my dad saying that his 40’s were his busiest time of his life and two decades after that I’m busier than ever.  Am I afraid of not being busy?  Or are there just too many things I want to do before it’s too late?

The problem with all of this is that I don’t want to disappoint or upset anyone, which means getting all of my work done and done as well as possible.  I look at other colleagues who are involved in similar endeavors and they seem to be thriving.  Or maybe it’s just the face they’re putting on social media or in meetings.  Maybe they’re just way more organized than I am.  Maybe they’re screaming into their pillow at night. Maybe my true hummingbird personality isn’t equipped to do this much.  Or maybe I’m just a classic overachiever.

Oh, and did I mention I want to go back to school?  Can I do it all? Maybe.  Will I end up killing myself or losing my mind?  Very possibly.  Working towards balance in my life (I did take time to go out for Chinese tonight instead of working more) is difficult when the scale on one side is all the way to the ground and the other is flying up in the air.  Balance?  What balance?

But there’s so much to do!  So much I want to try and experience!  How do I choose?  I have to admit that several days into this new endeavor I almost called my colleagues and said “oh sorry – I’ve changed my mind” – but I try to honor my commitments.  The truth is, if I walked away from any or all of it right now I could readily be replaced.  What does that say about me or any of us?  Is what we do really that important?  Does this mean that I’m getting my self-worth from things that are very much finite instead of infinite?

So many questions and so few answers.  Six months from now, I hope to be in another place entirely, again sipping from flower to flower instead of sucking it all up at once.  We’ll see.

A few days ago I had a delightful lunch with a couple of great friends.  Over a three hour lunch of Mexican food, we discussed many things – our kids, schedules, going back to school – the usual stuff.  Then we began talking about behavior, first at school and then in general. One of my friends told us a story of how patients speak to her daughter, using insulting or inappropriate language and with a sigh said, I guess this is just the way it is now.

It does seem that way.  Everywhere we go we hear people talking about others using derogatory language.  I wish I could say I never do that but I have to admit that I too get sucked into the negativity. We can’t seem to just disagree with someone, we have to HATE them if they don’t think the same way we do.  They’re idiots or a–holes or worse.  From commentators on the “news” to friends around the table, very few people seem to be able to speak in a civil manner about anyone anymore.  We’re critical, hateful, insulting and rude.  Is this just the way our culture has become?  Does it have to stay this way, or worse yet, fall deeper in the pit?  Or can we find a way to turn it around?  It certainly seems to be an impossible task.

The answer here of course is to have courage.  Courage for all of us to take the chance to speak our minds, to express our thoughts about whatever the subject might happen to be from our personal perspective.  Perception is reality as they always say and we perceive things based on our personal experiences.  No two people’s experiences are the same and yet we expect everyone to think the same.  No two people’s passions are the same and yet we expect everyone to care about the same things we do.  We are encouraged to be individuals and yet think like everyone else.  It’s much like that in education – differentiation as long as we all behave the same way in the classroom.  But I digress.

I have friends on both sides of the aisle.  I think I have most of those friends because I tend to keep my mouth shut about topics that I know are volatile.  Chances are, considering the current culture, if one side or the other knew my thoughts and perspectives I would lose half of them.  It makes me sad.  After all, I still like all of those friends on both sides.  I may not agree with them, but that doesn’t keep me from caring about them.  Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be? I will admit that I tend to walk away, at least for a short time, from those friends as well as any media who occasionally become toxic.  The hate spewing from them is literally like a knife cutting through me, sometimes sending me into a depression because of all the negativity.  Does anyone else feel that way?

So how do we change the culture?  Do the people who hate even WANT to change it?  Or do they enjoy spewing the harsh critical language?  Does it make them feel better somehow?  Does it make them feel more important?  Or is it hiding a fear or insecurity of some kind?  Again, I think the answer is courage.  Courage to sit down face to face and talk.  Getting away from screens, away from listening to commentators and listening to one another.  Talking about how to make things better instead of whining about how awful things are.  This isn’t sweeping things under the rug, it’s constructive conversation, looking for answers instead of looking for blame.  Do we really want to raise our kids and grandkids in this kind of environment?

Is our culture right now just the way it’s destined to be?  If not, what can you and I do right now to change it?  Do I have the courage?

 

 

 

Today has not been the big dynamic mover, changer kind of day one would expect on the first day of a new year or decade.  Today has been a sit in my happy pants with my feet up, having donuts for breakfast and doing a few minor things around the house day.  We’ve watched a little Netflix and some football and that’s about it.  A pretty inauspicious beginning to be sure.  But as any teacher will tell you, progress, or making things better, is not a sprint, it’s a marathon.

Nothing gets better without high expectations and setting goals.  Goals have steps that must be taken.  Like a good strategic plan, you have a vision of where you want to be within a certain amount of time and you do those things you need to do in sequential order to get there.  It’s not all at once, it’s a process.  Today began with a to-do list and getting things on the calendar, working on some short term goals that will eventually fulfill long term goals.

The problem with having resolutions is that we expect to just start one day and keep it up day after day.  Sometimes these things need to be more like weight loss.  Eat a little less, exercise a little more each day and things will begin to change.  If you’re like me, there are so many things I want to do or change that if I try to just “do it” all at once I get overwhelmed.  But I CAN expect to do things a little better every day and make real change happen.

I’ve labeled 2020 as the “Year of Transition” and those transitions have already begun.  But I began the process last year in order for things to begin this year.  I talked to my mother-in-law about this a little bit this past week.  When she asked me what she could pray for, I asked her to pray that I make the right decisions.  She asked if maybe it was just time to relax and spend time with the grandsons.  While that sounds nice, I feel like there’s more for me to do.  I can also spend time with the boys, but other things need to be done as well.  These are not just things I expect to be better for me, but things I want to be better for others.  Not judging others who decide to relax and spend time with the grandkids, just not what I need to do just yet.

This begins the fourth year writing my blog and there will eventually be some transitions in subject matter.  Life changes after all and so will my experiences and perspective.  I hope you’ll keep reading during this transition.  I hope that my transitions encourage others to take some chances to follow their dreams by setting goals and taking steps.  There will be doors closed and windows opened with mistakes made, with joy and discouragement along the way but I expect things to get better.  Looking towards an exciting 2020 for all of us!

 

It’s all about the rolls.  Those warm, yeasty, buttery, straight out of the oven, hand made  rolls.  While there are many things to get excited about when going to the hollow or “holler”,  most of us lucky enough to be a part of this big family, even those of us who married into it, speak of these legendary morals of perfection with reverence.  My first exposure was when my future husband took me to the holler to meet the family and at the table was a bowl of these delectable rolls.  I was hooked.  I would have married Doug just to get his grandmother’s rolls.  Just kidding Doug.  Maybe.

Unfortunately his grandmother has passed, but the roll making has passed on to his Aunt Peggy, along with her famous cheese braids (we have one coming home with us to Nebraska), and what we laughingly refer to as Christmas “crack”.  Another grandma recipe, the peanut brittle is famous, with family members purchasing boxes to hand out to friends as gifts around the country.  Friends who apparently now assume it’s coming every year, according to my sister in law.

Anyway, back to the holler.  Twice a year, as many family members as possible get together with massive amounts of great food (did I mention rolls?) to celebrate Christmas and then again in May or June at a family reunion.  This is a family who loves each other unconditionally, who share their successes and their struggles.  It’s multigenerational, a village that looks after each other and something I have now been a part of for 2/3rds of my lifetime.  The first time I visited, it was like being on the set of the Waltons, especially for someone who rarely added more than two grandparents to their holiday gatherings of just the four of us and even today can be a bit overwhelming. This year our new grandsons were introduced to the big clan in the holler and just like I was accepted into the family 40 years ago, these wonderful boys  found that they too were immediately loved and accepted.  They joined a new generation of the “Bewley” family, the family for whom the holler is named.  I think Doug’s grandma would have gotten a kick out of them.

For those of you who do not regularly see hollers, I want you to imagine a little two lane road, winding among tall trees close to the road, with scattered houses on acreages.  As you approach the final curve to the right, you begin to go down into the holler. At the bottom to your right is Aunt Peggy’s house on the hill,  and the next driveway on the right belongs to my in-laws.   A little further down the road, which follows the creek on the right, you come to what used to be Grandma and Grandpa Bewley’s house and just past that over the bridge that crosses the creek the kids all used to play in, you drive up the hill to Aunt Ann’s house.  I remember as a young couple watching Doug play baseball in the summer with the cousins and football in the fall.  I remember sitting on the side patio of his grandmother’s house under the big tree drinking tea and listening to everyone’s conversations.  It’s a magical place for someone like me, a place where you can just be yourself, laugh and enjoy the company.

This year most of Doug’s immediate family was able to get together, his parents, both sisters and most of our families.  Conversations about computers and emojis and memojis and other -ojis were soon replaced with talk of family and neighbors.  You remember so and so?  She was so and so’s cousin?  She married such and such…  not having grown up there, the conversation sounded just like that I’m afraid, but still fun to listen to.  The gift opening traditions I’ve watched for decades passed down to our grandsons, the anticipation of seeing what mom wrote in the books she gave all the girls and watching all the guys play with their new “atomic” flashlights was so simple and yet so fun.  Everyone takes time to enjoy others opening gifts, telling stories and laughing.  It’s too crowded, a little warm and people have to sit on the floor and I love it.  I’m a lucky girl.

It had been a few years since I was able to partake in this treat for the senses – the sights, sounds and aromas that make this family so special – but making the 700+ mile trip with my little gang was more than worth it.  As we look to a new decade beginning in a couple of days, I look forward to making more memories with this family in the holler.

Do the next right thing.  Going into the unknown. Be with me.  No man is a failure who has friends.  The last couple of days we have relaxed watching movies.  We don’t have the chance to do this a lot during the year because of our schedules, but we try to make up for it during our breaks.  Like anything in life, if you watch and listen, you can always pick up something you can apply or learn from.  Whether it’s from a meeting,  professional development, a sermon, a book or even a movie, there are always words that bring something to mind that can change your trajectory and way of thinking.

This past semester was hard.  Hard, not only because of the work load – it’s always hard – but because I didn’t feel like I did the best I could do.  I can deal with a lack of perfection if I did my best and just didn’t have enough time or there were extenuating circumstances, but this past semester I know I didn’t do my best.  I have been whiney, complaining, self loathing, uncaring and it showed.  It’s not the way I wanted this year to go.  If it only affected me it wouldn’t be that big a deal but it affected my students, my student teacher and the people I work with.  It’s not who I should be.  I want my life to matter, I want the things I do to be life changing not only for me but for others.  This last semester felt anything but.

This of course lends itself to feeling sorry for myself, blaming others, curling up on the corner of my couch and hibernating with my laptop.  But this week, I went to the movies.  While a movie isn’t a religious experience by any means, it can be therapeutic and thought provoking.  So here are a few things I learned today and yesterday that I want to share.

Do the next right thing.  Seriously, it’s an animated movie, but Frozen 2 has some interesting things to think about.  I can’t do anything to change the past, but I can do the next right thing.  Sure, I didn’t give my all last semester, but I can start new when I go back in January.  I can stop complaining so much and be more positive.  I can find ways to fill my bucket in order to fill others.

Into the Unknown.  Yeah I know.  Every elementary aged girl is singing this song right now.  But it talks about something that adults need to think about too.  It’s about a fear of taking risks, of going out into the unknown.  It’s how we all try to ignore the tug, but it’s powerful, the “what if” I do this or that.  As I’m looking at some different options in my life, still figuring out what my place is in the world, I need to be less afraid of the unknown.

Be with me. In Star Wars, Rey keeps asking the force or Jedi to “be with me”.  She’s asking for help.  I don’t like asking for help.  I try to do everything on my own, although I’m not sure why.  Nothing great in this world can be accomplished on our own, it has to be done with others, another great message in the movie.  All it takes is a group of people willing to work together towards a common goal to make it happen.  It’s exhausting to have to ask people to help but I need to do a better job of that if I want to accomplish great things.

No man is a failure who has friends.  Yeah, I’ve used this one before but it’s true.  It’s not money or recognition or power that makes you a success, although that is what the world would make you think.  It is the power of friendship, a relationship where you think more of others than yourself, where you build trust and show vulnerability.   A great friend can help you do the next right thing, step with or support you as you go into the unknown or just be with you.

It’s not rocket science, it’s a reminder.  I timely reminder during this holiday season that we aren’t meant to function alone.  Even those of us who are introverts need to step out of our comfort zones and connect with others.  I am not locked into the past nor is my future relegated by what past generations have or have not done.  I can surround myself with others who feed me and yet also tell me truth, making me accountable for following through on my goals as I step into the unknown.

Today was a reminder of another story.  The story of the birth of a child with two very young parents, who did the next right thing, while totally stepping into the unknown.  All so we could have someone that we could ask to “be with us” as our Savior.  Oh yes, there is just so much we can learn from stories.

 

 

 

I sat in the chair as the sweet lady painted my toenails, talking with another lady next to me.  “We have to get pretty for Christmas” she said.  I paid my bill and the lady wished me a Merry Christmas.  We went to get some lunch where the lady behind the counter wished us a Merry Christmas as well.  I looked a the string of lights strewn around the top of the restaurant and listened to the holiday music floating through the air.

There are poinsettias and decorated trees everywhere, images of Santa, reindeer and elves, characters from Peanuts and Star Wars and National Lampoons Christmas Vacation all over neighborhood lawns.  And everything is surrounded by lights.  Tonight we went for a drive to see some crazy light installations that had been advertised as the best in town and we were not disappointed.

Front lawns looked like Disneyland and others were so elaborate that they had music on the radio that went with the pulsating lights.  Fun for sure, as we sat in a long long of cars waiting to see the show, fascinated with the idea of someone spending their time, talent and money on all of those lights.

So what is it about lights that are so fascinating?  At the very least, they are necessary to cut through the darkness.  Lights lead us, they give us direction, they take away our fear of the dark.  And despite all of the other things that people use to decorate, there is always light of some kind.  You see, light is the reason for the season because Jesus IS the light.  He is the light of the world, our light and our salvation.  If we believe in the light, we become children of light.  It is the message of Christmas, the reason why we remember and celebrate the event.  The lights we decorate with should remind us of this.

So on day 3 of break, as we drove around the streets of my town, I was reminded of why and how I should remember the day.  Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.  Merry Christmas!