“I thought it was chocolate!” the young man protested loudly as I motioned him towards my desk.  “He tattled on me!”  One of his classmates had walked to my desk during class with a look of slight horror on his face as he told me about the incident.  This same classmate promptly kneeled in front of my trash can as though he was going to be sick so I immediately sent him to the bathroom.

But back to the mud eater.  This was a child who knew better – I think – but he kept swearing that he thought it was chocolate.  It is that time of year when kids are tracking in mud caused by the little spring rains and after choir this morning, it was already all over my carpet.  I had thought about grabbing a broom or perhaps vacuum but decided it wasn’t that big a deal.  Apparently I was wrong.

It was a day for weird behavior.  I’m pretty sure I spent most of my day either processing with children, usually asking why they thought they were doing whatever it was they were doing, or I was walking them down the hall to the gym or the office to think about what they were doing.  Thank goodness I didn’t have to teach as well! (And that I have a great student teacher!) Lately I feel like the behavior I’m dealing with is pretty blatant, either refusing to follow a direct instruction or just not bothering to listen to anything at all, talking over any instruction the teacher is trying to give.  I don’t want it to sound like it’s every child because it certainly isn’t, but it does seem to be a larger percentage than ever before.

Even my best behaved students, the laid back kids who good naturedly follow directions and have fun were doing strange things like yanking each others arms or smacking each other with whatever they had in their hands, whether it was sheet music or their pink jacket.  I watched on the playground as one little girl, smaller than the male classmates around her, was systematically running them over and smacking them with her jacket because they had told her she couldn’t do something.  Boys were getting each other in headlocks and throwing each other around and kids were leaping off of the playground equipment with abandon.  It was like a tiny Lord of the Flies.

And then there is the inertia.  A dry erase marker runs out and four kids stand around looking at it trying to figure out what to do. I never give them an answer, I just tend to question back, “what do you THINK you should do?”  Uh, get a new one?  Could be. The kids seem to be in one of two camps – they either don’t do anything you ask (and don’t care) OR they’re afraid to think for themselves because they’re afraid they’ll do something wrong, neither of which is healthy.

All this to say that I’m betting there’s a heck of a front coming through tomorrow, which of course will bring some rain.  Which will make mud that the kids will track in again.  I’m just hoping that nobody will try to eat it again trying to convince me that it’s chocolate.

It has always been the music.  It has always been the place to go when I haven’t known where else to go.  It’s the place I go to be with people of like minds, all of us speaking a language that is not the proverbial “universal” language that so many others refer to but that language of giving in to and expressing emotions of all kinds.  The idea that vibrations at certain frequencies put together in a certain order can illicit such life changing thoughts and feelings is nothing short of a God thing for me.

It’s music that can literally bring forth agony and ecstasy in someone’s heart.  It makes the heart flutter and sing, it brings forth memories with all its laughter and tears.  We put certain hard working musicians on pedestals because there is something about the way they play or sing that can be surreal,  possessing an other worldliness that we somehow can’t put into words but it finds a way to pierce our hearts and minds.  Notice I didn’t say talented because being a musician myself, I know that I am only as good as the work I put into it.  I sing on pitch because I grew up listening to a lot of different kinds of music and I mimicked it.  I keep a steady beat because I worked on it.  That part is no big secret.  It’s when this work ethic meets letting yourself go and not being caught up in what others think that creates the magic.

There is nothing more magical than making music with others.  It stretches you, makes you better than you thought you could be.  I love singing with people who are better than I am because it pushes me to work harder and then the music explodes.  I’ve been fortunate to play and sing with some of the best, no name dropping intended here, but when you work with these people you work or die.  Names like Revelli, Painter, Fennell, and Robert Shaw.  I was clueless as to who these people were until much later and have marveled that I had the opportunity to work under them.  I mean, what are the chances?  I think it was meant to be.  I was in the right place at the right time.  I had a teacher who encouraged me to do things even when I wasn’t sure what I was getting into.

Music theory began at an early age, with my dad at the kitchen table to my band director encouraging me to be in a small theory class to finally having college professors who were patient with my lack of natural ability in the subject.  I loved learning stories about great composers and I love telling these stories to my students.  The kids sometimes ask why musicians are so weird because it seems like these historic figures tend to do some rather unorthodox things, but it’s only because they’re fearless.  To create great music I’m convinced you must be fearless.

Maybe fearless isn’t the right word.  Maybe doing something despite the fear is better.  Many of those famous composers and hard working musicians shake in their boots  before the magic kicks in and they just surrender to the music.  Despite my introversion, even I’ve experienced this musical high that is hard to describe.  I’ve experienced it singing alone, or playing or singing with a group.  I’ve experienced it conducting a group and have seen it on their faces and in their eyes when the magic takes over.  I tend to think I love this even more than when I experience it myself.  I believe that’s one of the main reasons I became a teacher.  The feeling brought about by my teachers was something I felt I could pass on.

Now after many years of learning, teaching, singing, playing and conducting, I spend a lot of my time talking with others who share the same passion I have for the subject.  I get the opportunity to encourage new and experienced teachers to remember why we decided to get into music education and who we’re doing it for.  Invariably they are reminded of someone who opened up the magical doors for them and the passion returns for some who have been worn down by time and all the seemingly unnecessary things attached to education these days.

This past weekend that magical feeling happened again but it was not from a musical encounter.  It was a different kind of magic, the kind of magic that happens when a group of people who have like minded purpose work together to make things happen for others.  The same training that made us musicians in the first place, taken to another level. I pinch myself every time I work with these great teacher musicians and often wonder why I’m so lucky.  One of my wonderful colleagues reminded me of the story of Esther in the Bible, quoting “Perhaps you were born for such a time as this”.  Perhaps I was.  And I’m grateful.

 

 

 

The flowers are pushing themselves up through the soil and the sound of birds send greetings in the morning.  I saw two Robins on the way to school this morning, hopping on the grass that is finally recovering from all the heavy snow, tiny green blades appearing among the brown.  Recess was finally warm enough today to just wear a jacket outside without freezing and there’s plenty of mud for the kids to find.  And while these are all wonderful signs of a long awaited spring, for me, spring comes when I get the toes painted and put the top down.

67 glorious degrees.  A little less than three weeks ago, we had our last snow day to end a season with record snowfall.  It seemed spring would never get here.  But today, with just a little wind, I finally put on the baseball cap and put the top down on the bug.  Wind therapy never felt so good.  I then drove to the nail place where I had a lovely shade of spring green put on my poor toes, the ones hidden by socks and heavy shoes for months. As my husband would say, “my dogs can breathe!”.  If I could live in sandals I would but unfortunately I live in a place that received @55 inches of snow this year, so when the sandals come out, it’s a big deal around here.  The thing we’ve hoped for, wished for, PRAYED for is finally here.  It’s spring.

Now having said this, it’s calling for 40’s and rain this weekend (it IS Nebraska after all), but thankfully I’ll be in Virginia.  They say Virginia is for lovers and I am definitely a lover of the warmer weather we’ll have while I’m there.  But for me, spring is more than the hope of warmer weather, flowers, birds and the top down on my car.  Spring is a reminder that even when you think everything in your life is going to be gray and cold and gloomy forever, there is always the promise of spring if we’ll just be patient.  The seasons of life are ever changing with some being bright and sunny and others dark and cloudy.  Everything looks dead but underneath is the promise of new growth and color.

We have a choice of giving in to all the gloom of the season or creating our own sunshine.  I’ll have to admit that it’s really easy to give in to the gloom, especially when you can’t think of anything to do to combat it.  So it becomes a matter of trust and knowing that you’ve made through gloomy seasons before.  Eventually it gets through to you that God has always been there during those dark times and each time the sun came out in the end and chances are you learned something in the process.

In the meantime, I’m embracing the painted toes and the top down.

Do you ever feel like we live in one big soap opera anymore?  Conspiracy, affairs, lack of ethics, everyone fighting and no one can work with anyone.  Everyone is  out for themselves, nobody helps anyone anymore, everything is political.  All the people in the south are crazy conservative rednecks, everyone in the northeast is unscrupulous, the west coast is all of bunch of crazy liberals and the midwest is, well non-existent and out of touch.  It’s easy to believe that this country is going to hell in a hand basket because everyone is crazy except you, right?  Well, I’m figuring out that as I visit around the country and hang out with people of all different persuasions, we have a lot more in common than not and maybe things have been exaggerated just a bit.

Now, I don’t mean to be Suzy Sunshine here, and I know I live in the Heartland, emphasis on the “heart”, but I have yet to go somewhere and meet someone who is just a horrible person.  I’m not saying I always agree with people, but usually the things that motivate us as human beings are universal – love, fear, anger, happiness.  We just act and react based on the environment we were raised in or exposed to.  I just don’t believe that the people in this country are as bad as we’ve been painted.  What I have seen are people who are kind, who think of others before themselves, who have a great work ethic and want things to be better.  We all want a better environment, better education, better health care, better government, better care for those who can’t help themselves.  And people are making a difference, one person, family or community at a time.

I have a friend in Georgia who is taking her passion for recycling into classrooms, social media and everywhere in between and is making a difference in her community.  She is politically aware and makes sure her voice as a citizen is heard.  I have another friend in Wisconsin who is active working on voter rights in her state.  I have friends in Nebraska and Kentucky who are passionate about animal rights, a friend in Michigan passionate about social justice and yet another friend in New York who believes in and teaches others how to unlock their passions and learn to be their true selves.

I have friends across the country who passionately advocate for music education as an essential part of educating the whole child.  I have friends who use their own money to help children in need, and friends who do small things like make special bags for foster children so they feel they have something of their own.

I’m watching communities from other states delivering hay, bale by huge bale to farmers affected by the floods in our region, giving up a little of their own to help others.  I’m watching people give their time, talents and money to help those who have lost everything during this natural disaster.

I’ve made it a point to only focus on positive stories lately, reading about the selflessness of Americans all over the country, people who are quietly doing things for others.  Yes, I get there are bad things happening out there but I wonder sometimes if we’re just focusing so much on them that we’re missing the beautiful things happening at the same time.

At the same time there are evil things happening in certain churches there many things happening in most churches that are good and kind and selfless.  At the same time there is ego and narcissism happening in government, there are people serving for little or nothing to make their communities a better place.  At the same time you hear about some teacher who has made a terrible error in judgement, there are thousands more who give of themselves every day for the love of children.  There is much good in the world, all quietly fighting the evil as best they can.  Unfortunately, if evil can convince you that there is so much evil in the world that there is nothing you can do, it has won.  Based on the great people I keep meeting, I choose to believe that there is more good than bad, we’re just not hearing about it.

So how about opening our eyes to see how much good there is around us.  I’m not saying ignore the bad, but instead of giving in, how about working to do something about it?  It doesn’t have to be huge, just an encouraging word to someone, a few dollars to help someone, a few hours to lend a hand.  Our good, multiplied many times can make a difference and throw a light on the shadows of all the bad in the world.

 

 

When you spend three hours in an airport by yourself, you find yourself paying attention to all kinds of things.  As an introvert, I’m not likely to engage in a conversation with anyone, at least not on purpose, and so it frees my mind to think about things I may not have thought of before and to observe some interesting things.

Like for instance, why does the moving walkway have an English accent?  Will we not pay attention to her warning that the walkway is about to end without it?  And why female?  Would a male voice startle people as they reached the the end and cause more harm than good?  And have you ever watched people on the walkway?  I watched a young man ride on the rail today, dangling his feet above the walkway.  If he’s not actually ON the walkway does the warning pertain to him?  Little kids love to ride it like a carnival ride with parents either walking behind them or next to them.

Then there was the older lady with the walker in the bar and grill who wanted to make sure her servers got everything just right because she kept chasing them down from her table, at one point taking her plate up to the bar for them to fix something.  She didn’t need the walker for that.  At the same bar, a woman who had a bit too much to drink increased her volume and use of profanity, at one point bragging to someone that she used this kind of language in front of her daughter because she wasn’t going to raise some weak crybaby woman.  Apparently strong women must have strong language.  And strong drink to go with it.

I watched a mom with two young girls attempt to get breakfast for them at a Dunkin’ Donuts.  One child was in a stroller and one was in a carrier on mom.  Mom was trying to get through the line as quickly as should could, juggling children, her bag and the food, handing the girl in the stroller a banana so she wouldn’t have to carry one more thing.  Still juggling, this same little girl had stripped the banana of its peel and was forcefully trying to hand it to mom to throw away and mom was still trying to pay for everything.  Some young whippersnapper behind me was making fun of her and it was all I could do not to smack his lack of experienced face.

Speaking of smacking, there’s nothing more frustrating for me than watching a parent who allows a child to hit them as they’re screaming no in their face.  The child was maybe three years old and mom just walked away from the child and ignored the behavior.  When dad showed up, the little girl ran to him for hugs which he provided and nothing was done about the behavior.  She’s only three.  What are they going to do when she’s 13?

Sitting in the restaurant I kept looking at this guy sitting my himself.  Have you ever looked at someone and thought they looked so much like someone in your family you wanted to go over and ask them questions?  I probably spent a half hour contemplating it, knowing full well again that I wouldn’t really do it but he could have been my brother’s older brother.  It was kind of scary.

The flight to my latest destination was especially nice because I didn’t have to sit with anyone there, however that changed drastically on the way home.  I don’t know if there was some kind of football coach’s convention or something, but every man on the flight was huge, including the gentleman sitting beside me.  I’m not talking overweight, they were just big men. Bless his heart, he barely fit in the seat and his shoulders were in my space and yet he tried to squeeze into the seat so the he wasn’t squashing me.  One of the gentlemen, as we were getting ready to deplane literally sat in his seat, reached up with with his hand and pulled his case out of the upper storage.  I’m talking huge.

Sometimes at the the airport, love blooms.  Remember the drunk woman at the bar?  The young man sitting near her and another young woman began a conversation that was still going on when I left.  They didn’t know each other before as they made introductions with the usual my name is and where are you from.  About an hour later as I was sitting waiting for my plan at the gate, I saw them on the moving walkway, just talking up a storm.  I hope they weren’t too engaged to miss the warning from the lady with the English accent.

Children left to their own devices can be a scary thing, and there is no time scarier than when they are forced to stay inside for recess.  As a mom of three I was most wary when my boys were all together and things got a little too quiet because that meant they were up to something, which translated means, they were getting creative.  Multiply that by a lot and now imagine a classroom or grade level full of kids getting “creative”.  Makes you want to be a teacher doesn’t it?

As a music teacher, I’m all for positive creativity and I’ll admit I sometimes let kids continue to do things that might be crossing the line just a little bit because I find it so creative and quite frankly, they’re having fun.  As long as they’re being safe that is.  After all, sometimes that line is pretty fine.  But yesterday during another rainy indoor recess, the kids surprised me with some fun and funny ways to keep themselves occupied.

At lunch recess I take @45 1st graders into my classroom and set up 4 different stations.  At first I was doing six stations with elaborate instructions, but the kids ended up doing pretty much what they wanted anyway.  What I have for them now consists of white  paper and colored pencils, white boards and markers, a game of bingo and, colored popsicle sticks.  Yes, simple colored popsicle sticks have taken over my room to the point I think I’ll just go buy some more.  I normally use them to have kids create rhythm patterns, which was my original intention for this station, but they have turned it into something much more fun.

The kids are collaborating and building houses with different rooms, spelling out the alphabet, writing their names, and whatever else pops into their heads.  They walk in, dump out the sticks all over their portion of the floor and start creating.  I don’t have to supervise, I don’t direct them in any certain way, they just get together, talk about it and help each other make stuff.  It’s awesome!  And despite the “mess”, at the end, I ask them to count sticks into groups of 12 to put back into their individual bags and they help each other put things away.  They’re laughing, they’re excitedly asking me to “come see!” and I don’t have to stress out over kids not following my rules or instructions.

After 1st grade is 4th grade who of course are a lot better as self regulating – well, most of the time.  Sometimes these kids are like bulls in a china shop, their bodies getting bigger but still playing like little kids.  So imagine my face when I walked into one classroom to supervise and I came upon this sight.  A small group of girls was lined up with their backs to the white board singing a mash up of sorts of two different songs.  Hey, Hey, Hey, Goodbye and Amazing Grace.  Yes, that’s what I thought too but it actually works.  They did have to fake a few of the words of Amazing Grace that they didn’t know but it didn’t stop them.   At some point the boys and some other girls would start this clapping thing and start walking around the room, which turned into a conga line, which picked up the girls at the front until they walked all the way around the room and the whole cycle would begin again with some modifications.  This was improvisation after all.

Yes, the singing got a little loud at times and several times the other teacher supervisors looked at my room with questioning eyebrow raises but I let them go.  I mean, how much more creative could they get?  This lasted for the entirety of the indoor recess, which granted isn’t very long, but when was the last time you saw a child so engaged in something that wasn’t staring at a screen?  They used nothing else in the room, just their bodies, their voices and their imaginations and it was hysterical.  They were smiling and laughing despite the fact that they were stuck inside again and again, I did not need to do anything but observe.

So often, in teaching and life in general, we as adults try to structure everything.  We give them every piece of equipment they need, provide all these rules and information, provide what we perceive is the perfect environment and practically do the activity for them.  Ok, sometimes we actually DO the activity for them, when what the kids really need is nothing but their imaginations and a positive environment to use them.  Let them figure out how to organize, collaborate, improvise and allow them to feel the accomplishment of doing it themselves.  The teacher or adult then becomes the facilitator, guiding, helping them tweak things or challenging them to think of something a new way.  In this way we help the child learn to love LEARNING, not just doing what they’ve been told to do.

I’m grateful to the teachers I remember in elementary school who put up with our creative shenanigans and allowed us to do things outside the box that when I think about it, were sometimes REALLY weird.   But that creativity cultivated a love of learning that has never left and it’s what I hope to do for my kids as well.  Just leave them alone.

 

 

“That was hard but it was fun and challenging!”.  Probably one of the best things I ever heard one of my students say, mainly because so much of the time my students complain like crazy when something gets the least bit difficult.  For so many of these kids, life has been pretty good so far and by comparison, the least little thing seems so hard.  But at some point, they will discover that life can be really hard.

I think about the kids whose parents and families are dealing with the flooding and right now, THESE kids have it hard.  Their homes and schools may be gone, their personal items, clothing and toys will be ruined.  They’re wondering where they are going to live, sleep and eat.  And while they have adults with them to take care of them, it is an early lesson in how life sometimes strikes a brutal blow.

I often wonder how families deal with this kind of thing when they have no source of  faith.  Faith that there is a Being greater than they are, faith that there is a lesson to be learned, even if we don’t understand why.  One of the refreshing things about people in this state is that I’ve heard them ask for thoughts and prayers.  There are people in power that say thoughts and prayers don’t do anything, but I would beg to differ.  Obviously, putting feet and hands with those prayers is always the right thing to do, but for those of us who believe, we have a God who listens and responds to prayer.  It may not exactly what we want to hear, but we also know that whatever the answer, He sees the big picture.  And sometimes the big picture is learning that life is hard but we can get through it.

I made the mistake yesterday of reading someone’s feed detailing the tragedy happening in the state and someone said, well, that’s what you get when your representatives vote a certain way.  That’s the most illogical thing I’ve ever heard and hello, not EVERYTHING has to be political.  So, we as a people shouldn’t ask for help or prayer because a certain representative voted against something that could have helped us?  Regardless, the people of Nebraska are going to work together and do whatever it takes to help each other anyway, not depending on legislation or a particular political party.

I just heard a few minutes ago that our city is under a mandatory water restriction and yes, this will be a slight inconvenience.  It’s all a matter of perspective isn’t it?  As the pastor said in church today, when someone is dealing with difficulty and says they feel like Job, they probably have no idea of the kinds of things that Job went through and probably should re-read the story.  There will be people who will find all kinds of things to complain about when this happens because they perceive it as hard.  Someone will blame others and say someone didn’t plan or think ahead enough.  But the truth is, life is hard, things happen and are we preparing our kids to be able to deal with life when things happen they can’t control?

So, for my friends who are not in Nebraska, keep the thoughts and prayers coming because they are appreciated.  And for those who can, put some feet and hands to your prayers.  You will make a difference and help show others that with help, they can make it, even when life is hard.

 

 

During my lifetime I’ve lived many places.  Before the age of eleven I had already lived in Texas, Hawaii, Washington, Mississippi and Colorado.  At eleven I moved to Kentucky where I lived a total of 20 years in various towns, then Ohio for nine.  This summer marks 19 years in Nebraska.  We’ve had the opportunity to meet and know marvelous people in all of these places but there’s something special about the people of Nebraska.

Yes, there are PEOPLE in Nebraska.  Sure, we joke about the fact that Memorial Stadium is the 3rd largest city in the state when there’s a football game, and yes we joke that there are more cattle than people in the state, but contrary to what most people believe, there are people here.  People who choose to be here, people who are proud to be here.  People who love the fact that Nebraska is not for everyone.  So most of the time, when Nebraskans are ignored it’s just not that big a deal.  In fact I had a friend here once who commented that they loved that not everyone wanted to be here – that they loved the state just the way it was.

Nebraskans see beauty in so many aspects of their state, from the tall grass to the farm land to the sand hills and the beautiful rivers.  The big sky is my favorite where God paints a different picture every morning and evening using every color imaginable.  And yes, they take pride in how tough they are.  I mean, it hits 30 degrees and the shorts come out! This winter has not been fun with record breaking snowfall here in Lincoln, over 50 inches and some brutally cold days.  We’ve actually had five snow/cold days this year for school and that NEVER happens.  I’ve learned to drive in this lovely stuff and while I’m not crazy about it, I’m pretty proud of myself actually.

Nebraskans take care of each other.  They love their friends and families and quietly take care of each others needs.  They don’t make a big deal about it, it’s just something you do.  This has taken me a bit of time to get used to because honestly, there’s no agenda at work here like my cynical mind tends to expect.  Nebraska Nice is not just a slogan and at no other time will you see it best than when Nebraskans are in trouble.

Nebraska is in trouble.  The state was in the middle of a record breaking low that settled on the state and produced weather like something out of a disaster movie.  The western part of the state had a blizzard of epic proportions where the only major freeway was closed for half the length of the state.  The eastern half of the state had one beautiful 60+ degree day which combined with a ton of rain and ridiculous wind (more ridiculous than usual), which very quickly melted the snowpack and sent water everywhere.  The ice jams on the Platte River have broken apart and added to the flooding.  Literally half the state is under water as each river, stream and creek flows into each other from north to south leaving devastation in their wake.  Roads are gone, bridges are gone, levees are gone, homes are gone.  Entire towns are surrounded by water with no way to get out and with drinkable water running out.

Livestock has been buried under snow in the west during calving season, and they’ve been forced to little islands in the middle of all the water in the east.  In a state that depends so much on farming and ranching this is beyond devastating.  Maybe that doesn’t matter to the rest of the country where they don’t understand why you can’t just clear all the snow right after a blizzard.  They obviously haven’t seen 6 foot drifts covering a freeway before.  I know I didn’t understand before I moved here.  I do now.

There are 2 million people in Nebraska, a few hundred thousand less than the city of Houston.  When Hurricane Harvey hit Houston in 2017, it was all over the news.  I suppose that when you have a concentration of people in one of the largest cities in the country it’s a bigger deal.  But when you have the same amount of people in a flyover state, it seems it’s easy to ignore.  Especially when the people in that state don’t tend to whine or complain.  They tend to take action and help each other instead.

Nebraska is not for everyone because not everyone is tough enough to live here.  We can be completely ignored by the rest of the country and take care of ourselves.  These are descendants of pioneers who survived on the Great Plains when there was literally nothing here.  Some people may still think there’s nothing here but beauty is all in the eye of the beholder.  The longer we live here, despite the nasty winters like we had this year, the more we grow to love and appreciate the state and its people.

I’ll be the first to admit I questioned myself many times when we first moved here, like what have I gotten myself into and when can I get out.  Now I it’s hard to imagine being anywhere else – except for vacation of course.  It’s always nice to come home to Nebraska where I can now agree with the state slogan – It’s not for everyone. And we’re still here.

I don’t answer “what if?” questions.  Kids love asking “what if” questions and that usually leads to an impasse or a smart remark from me, keeping in mind, of course, the level of seriousness of said “what if” question.  For instance, we’re getting ready to do a little 3rd grade play.  The question is “what if the lead gets sick the night of the play?”.  My response is “they won’t”.  “But what IF?”,  they insist.  “They won’t”, I repeat.  Everyone shows up to do the play.  It just doesn’t happen.  And honestly that’s the way if goes.  One time I even had a kid who had broken his arm after school, had it wrapped up and showed up that night to do the play.  A bit extreme I will agree but they just don’t miss.

But then there are the serious “what if” questions.  “What if a bad man breaks into our room at school?”.  My first answer is usually not to worry about it because if they just do what I tell them to do, it is my job to keep them safe.  That’s a lot of pressure on me but I believe it’s my job.  Of course, I have kids who want details.  “But, what if they get IN?”.  Well then, I will have to beat them with the boomwhackers.  It usually gets a laugh and then I reassure them that I have worked with other teachers and have thought out what we have and should do in my room and I will take care of them.  It’s a tough “what if” question, but then, life is full of “what ifs”.

I had breakfast out with my middle son this morning and I found myself looking at him thinking what if.  As a preemie, he had to be transferred to a hospital that could handle him 45 minutes away and on the way he stopped breathing.  What if he had been born 100 years ago?  What if the EMT in the ambulance hadn’t brought him back?  What if I hadn’t had the opportunity to get to know him as a young man?  It’s very unsettling to think that with just a change of time or personnel or circumstance that everything in my life would be different.

What if we had stayed in Ohio instead of moving to Nebraska?  Would we have been as happy?  Would our kids have done better or worse in school?  Who would they have met for their spouses?  Would my husband and I still be together?  It was just one long move that not only changed my life but the lives of my little nuclear family and all of those friends and family around us.  Sometimes the “what ifs” are haunting.

What if I had spent more time with either of my parents before they passed?  Would it have mattered or would the relationships have remained the same?  What if I had spoken up more often when things just weren’t right between all of us?  Would it have mattered or would there still be estrangement?  What if I hadn’t been afraid to speak up?

It’s not just the big things that matter of course.  Sometimes it’s the small things that are the most powerful. What if I hadn’t forgotten to send a card to someone who needed it or sent a text or called to check on them?  What if I had stopped to give money to a homeless man like my son did this morning?  What if I loved someone even though I disagreed with them?  What if I forgave the unforgivable like I would hope someone would forgive me?

Sometimes a “but what if” can combat a “what if” especially if it’s pessimistic.  “What if I can’t do this?”  But what if you COULD?”.  Sometimes a “what if” can be a dream or a new creation, a new way of thinking or a solution to something.  But even these positive approaches can come after something negative has happened or there needs to be a change, usually leading to that “but what if”.  I’m actually more convinced that “what if” stops more dreams than creates them.

The problem with most “what ifs” is that they tend to focus on the past and quite frankly there’s nothing I can do about that.  And so many times “what ifs” in the present or future focus on worries.  So what if we changed the “what if” to “how about”?  How about I eat a salad instead off this burger? (my friends can stop laughing now).  How about I just stop and rest when I need to?  How about I stop worrying about the future and just trust God?  How about I think about others more often than myself?  How about I take advantage of the time I have to explore more, learn more, meet more interesting people and have more adventures?  How about I tell my friends and family how much I love and appreciate them?  How about we just live instead of asking what if we die?

Now it’s time to say how about I get off my behind and do something fun and/or productive today!

 

 

 

My dad would have had a hey day with this weather.  Sitting in front of the TV, seeing that in Nebraska today we have had a record breaking low, blizzards, thunderstorms, high winds and flooding all in the same day would have fascinated him.  He would have spent hours glued to the TV.  Like many older people, there is something exciting about watching crazy weather happening around the country and there is only one place they can get all the info.  The Weather Channel.

24 hours a day, every day, nothing but weather.  And the effects of weather.  And extreme weather. And why planes crash.  Like that EVER needs to be a show.  Hours and hours of all things meteorological.  Maybe it’s because at an advanced age, you’ve probably seen everything and it’s a challenge to see something new.  I mean, you’ve seen one blizzard, tornado, hurricane, hail storm, you’ve seen them all all, right?  But there’s another element I think.  The distinct fear that if there is a major anything, they’ll be trapped without enough food, electricity, or other essentials and so they have to remain glued to the weather channel for information.  Life is scarier as you get older.

But I’m also talking about those people who watch weather happening hundreds or even thousands of miles away from them so they can email or text or call the nearest family member to ask about them.  I must admit, my husband and I do this too.  A little too much rain in Kentucky and my husband is on the phone to see if it’s flooding in the holler.  Yes, I said holler, which translates to hollow to all my Nebraska friends, of which we have none.  Anyway, then it’s a conversation of just how much water there is, nothing like what happened when he was a kid, blah, blah, blah.  It’s a big deal.

We have a game at my house just to see if they ever mention Nebraska during the weather.  After all, we’re flyover country and nobody lives here, right?  But today they not only mentioned Nebraska, they had a Weather Channel guy in Scottsbluff!!  Not to talk about people of course, but to talk about cattle.  And seeing as there are more cattle in that part of the state than people, it was probably appropriate.  Making sure I’m not seeming flippant here, as this is a big deal because ranchers will see many cattle die during this storm.  Not a good thing.  And when those newspeople talk about making sure they get back to a town before it gets too bad where they are in the middle of nowhere, they’re not kidding.  It’s the difference between life and death.

And maybe that’s the draw here.  We’re transfixed by the awesome power of Mother Nature, both its beauty and its destructive force.  To think that all around the world, natural disasters happen and despite humans thinking we’re all that, Mother Nature has us beat.  It doesn’t matter how rich or poor you are, what color, gender, religion or culture you are, Mother Nature can strike without caring.  It’s amazing and terrifying at the same time.  Maybe it’s because it’s beyond our control that as older people we watch it with such intensity.  Young people always think they’re invincible, older people know we’re not and that life can be short.

So yes, I admit I checked into the Weather Channel a bit today but mostly to make sure we weren’t going to get a bunch of snow out of this.  After all, it got up to 64 degrees today with a bit of sunshine.  I finally felt hopeful that spring was here.  But tomorrow we’ll wait to see how much rain/snow we’re going to get because Mother Nature is still in charge and will decide when spring will officially arrive, no matter how I want to feel.  And when it does arrive, it will be on The Weather Channel.