One More Day...

"I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see."           – John Burroughs

A week ago, I was laying on my couch, under a blanket, my head resting on my best friend's chest as we watched our girls run back and forth across our living room giggling and squealing.  I told him I was so happy he was staying home for a while because our baby girl had really been coming into her own and I didn't want him to miss it (he misses so much already).

A week ago, we'd just put our baby girl down for a nap when everything in the structured, routine, predictable world I'd created [to survive this unpredictable military life] fell away and disappeared when a plane fell out of the sky.

How do I send my husband to work everyday when it's no longer just a possibility he may never come home? 

It's...real.  

No, really - someone tell me how.

Because, I didn't get to keep him like I thought and he didn't stay home for a while like he'd promised.  He's working. 

And instead of sharing dinner at our tiny kitchen table or watching our girls chase each other around the house - we connect in stolen moments over the internet.

I want my husband back.

In a letter I still carry with me, he once wrote... 

"When I married you I really did want to spend the rest of my life with you.  This whole deployment thing is cutting into some of the 'rest of my life' time."  

(two years)

(I've been carrying those words for two years)

I know his work is vital and important, I really do. But I have to wonder...

To what length and how great will our family's sacrifice ultimately be in exchange for your freedom?

Do you even appreciate all that we've given up and go without so you can be free?

Ruthie once told me, "It feels good to release your feelings to someone else."  I know what she meant and I even agreed with her but now that I've written mine down, I wonder if people will just think I'm selfish.

I hope not.

                  I...

it's just...

He's my WHOLE world 

        and a lifetime isn't going to be enough time 

to fit in all the thoughts I want to think, 

            all the walks I want to take, 

all the books I want to read, 

                   and all the places I want to see

with him.

...when do we get to begin the rest of our life?  Because I'm ready.

Love,

me

Less Traveled By

The Road Not Taken

-Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay,
In leaves no step had trodden black,
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

The other day, I was flipping back and forth through my school planner, finishing a project, when I turned to a page of notes written in early August.  I remember being so taken with the words I'd shared them with my coworkers and friends when I welcomed them back...

It says:

The moment of frustration presents us with a tremendous opportunity to contribute.   

We have a choice. We can be negative and defensive or we can choose to ask:
What can I do to make a difference?
How can I support the team?
Making better choices in the moment by asking better questions. 

Sometimes, when we are struggling, we are tempted to stop giving to others.  Our thoughts turn toward ourselves and we do not feel like being a blessing to others; we want someone to comfort us. But when we are hurting, we should behave as we would if we were not hurting.

I treat others the way I wish to be treated.
I do not get to choose when or how often I will treat others the way I wish to be treated.
Why?
Because I wish to be treated with kindness and respect every moment of every day.
Therefore, I must do the same.

And you know what?  It is easier to do something every day than to do it only some days.  When you do something every day, there's no debate, no procrastination, no wondering shall I or shan't I?

It's your routine, your normal, your everyday.  It's yours.

I actively choose to be this person every day.

Who will you choose to be?

Love,
me

Be Yourself, Ralph... just be yourself.

To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment. - Ralph Waldo Emerson

I struggle with this one.
-every day-
I want so much to please everyone,
ensure happiness,
and maintain balance.

I become
who you need
                      when you ask
because it will make
you better,

or      them      better

or
us better
or everything better.

I do what you need
when you mention it
because
it will make you
smile
or because
it will make them
smile.

I want you
to succeed
because
you deserve success.
And
when you succeed
that means
they did too
which
means
we did.

We succeeded.

But

I can't
keep doing this.

I can't keep showing up
for something
every
single
day

GIVING
GIVING
GIVING

all
of my effort
my love
my sincerity
my...

time

my

every

   thing

just to over
hear

you want more

just to be asked
when

just to be asked
why

just to be asked
why not

or to be told
you should be...

AND to be given

even

more.

I 


am


one (1) singular


person.

One.


I should not be expected
to do the jobs of
three people
just because
you
don't understand
or can't see

    [or refuse to see]

or never realized
that

my job


is difficult too.

And NOW,

--NOW--


Now

that I've
done what you
said you wanted

You still act
as though
I have
all this

i n v i s i b l e


time.

I catch it
in sideways glances,
and
turns of phrase.

But

my time is not

i n v i s i b l e


nor
    infinite.

You teach from
one bell
to another.

I teach
from one
bell
to another.

Do you hold a
second,
completely separate,
position as well?

How about a third?
         (because I do)

Wait!

Do you eat lunch?
      Most days... I don't.

 - but I monitor
lots of kids who do
for
you.

Planning?

... because
you teach
from one bell
the other.


You?
usually, yes?

Me?

not one single moment...

I
teach
all
day.

I
teach
all
day.

You
wanted
a
teacher.

I
teach.

I am a teacher.

I can't give you anymore.

I'm sorry.



I have been called names, yelled at, chased down, and stalked since taking this coaching job and I never once regretted my decision or let someone's anger and frustration disable me.  Instead, I have constantly reevaluated, reflected, and studied so I would become better. I have always viewed it as my job to be the frustrated one - because by shouldering the frustration I would look for a solution.

Well, I am definitely frustrated.

How is it possible for me to give you everything and you to believe I am worth nothing?

I refuse to accept it.

You truly believe I have no value?

If that's true,

what

-exactly-

do you think

I do?

And

while I'm here...

when were ANY of you going to tell me this

-in person-

?




I really don't know what else to say.

Love Poems

I once told you each day is a love poem -

comprised of the
      -small-
 everyday moments.

The mismatched
striped socks,

smiles drawn
in frost,

searching
for stars and
singing
about rainbows.

And they are, aren't they?

Love poems?

Something beautiful and rare...

"Perhaps he has never considered the invisible lines that run through his knitting, as they do through mine.
     But I consider those lines.  And I see them in other places.  In the carefully placed blueberries on top of my locally made muffin.  What was the baker thinking about when she made it?  Will I taste a difference if she was worried about her ailing grandmother or dreaming about her boyfriend?  Or in the way my mailman delivered my mail today?  I'll never know what he felt as he dropped the circulars into my box, but I can guarantee this: He felt something, and if he was upset about the argument he'd had that morning with his wife, I hope that the act of clicking my mailbox shut and latching my gate acted as a kind of mechanical prayer.
     The sensation of yarn slipping through my fingers has taught me that rote work, like dropping mail into boxes or placing blueberries on muffins or knitting garter stitches with bamboo needles, is seldom just an action, it is a wish, a dream, a desire; usually it is a distillation of all of these into a single overriding emotion: hope."  -- A Life in Stitches: Knitting My Way Through Love, Loss and Laughter, by Rachael Herron

After reading Rachael's words I am even more certain.

The moments
            and breaths
of our days
-are-
comprised
of
wishes,
dreams,
and desires.

Distillations
of
all
these things
into
a
single
overriding
emotion:

Love.

Don't you see it?

Love,
me

Part of Something Beautiful

May the grace of God
       be
      with

       you

always in your heart

May you know the truth
         inside you from the start

May you find the strength
                                 to know you are 

 a

part

      of something
beautiful...

Being alone when you want to be with someone is hard. Feeling  excluded  and separate and isolated, especially when you are around other people is hard. My life is defined by this dichotomy. [and] I can give in to the sadness                                              and despair that comes  with unwanted solitude    or [know] May the grace of God        be       with        you always in your heart May you know the truth           inside you from the start May you find the strength                                  to know you are   a part       of something beautiful... ...because I am. Love, me

I'd Rather Have You.

It's hard

to always 

           remember

-be certain-

the amount of

 s   p   a   c   e 

you're granted

inside 

someone

else's

heart.

.

Benjamin: well

Paula: Well

I love you

Benjamin: I love you

Paula: and I am so lucky to have you

I really am

Sent at 11:59 AM on Friday

Benjamin: Me too

but

I have me all the time

Paula: That makes you pretty lucky too, doesn't it?

Benjamin: I'd rather have you

Sent at 12:00 PM on Friday

Paula: (that is the sweetest thing I've heard -or read- in a very long time)

...simple as it is

Benjamin: 

Paula: and I believe that is why I love you

I doubt so many things anymore, I often wonder which I've conjured out of fear, sadness, or truth.  

Ben is a reminder of truth.  He is also one of love, patience, and kindness.

And for that, I am blessed and I am thankful.

Love,

me

I Want (to swim away).

Once there was a tree...and she loved a little boy.  And every day the boy would come and he would gather her leaves and make them into crowns and play king of the forest.  He would climb up her trunk and swing from her branches and eat apples.  And they would play hide-and-go-seek.  And when he was tired, he would sleep in her shade.  And the boy loved the tree...very much.  And the tree was happy.  


But time went by.  


               And the boy grew older. 


And the tree was often alone.  


Then one day the boy came to the tree and the tree said, "Come, Boy, come and climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and eat apples and play in my shade and be happy."  "I am too big to climb and play," said the boy. 


"I want to buy things and have fun. I want some money. Can you give me some money?" "I'm sorry," said the tree, "but I have no money.  I have only leaves and apples.  Take my apples, Boy, and sell them in the city.  Then you will have money and you will be happy." And so the boy climbed up the tree and gathered her apples and carried them away.  And the tree was happy.
  
But the boy stayed away for a long time...
                                        and the tree was sad.  


And then one day the boy came back and the tree shook with joy and she said, "Come, Boy, climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and be happy." "I am too busy to climb trees," said the boy.  
"I want a house to keep me warm," he said.  "I want a wife and I want children, and so I need a house.  Can you give me a house?" "I have no house," said the tree. "The forest is my house, but you may cut off my branches and build a house. Then you will be happy."  And so the boy cut off her branches and carried them away to build his house.  And the tree was happy.  


But the boy stayed away for a long time.  


And when he came back, the tree was so happy she could hardly speak.  "Come, Boy," she whispered, "come and play." "I am too old and sad to play," said the boy.  


"I want a boat that will take me far away from here.  Can you give me a boat?"  "Cut down my trunk and make a boat," said the tree.  "Then you can sail away...and be happy."  And so the boy cut down her trunk and made a boat and sailed away.  


And the tree was happy... but not really.  


And after a long time the boy came back again.  


"I am sorry, Boy," said the tree, "but I have nothing left to give you--My apples are gone." "My teeth are too weak for apples," said the boy.  "My branches are gone," said the tree. "You cannot swing on them-" "I am too old to swing on branches," said the boy.  "My trunk is gone," said the tree.  "You cannot climb--" "I am too tired to climb," said the boy.  "I am sorry," sighed the tree. "I wish that I could give you something... but I have nothing left.  I am just an old stump.  I am sorry..." "I don't need very much now," said the boy, "just a quiet place to sit and rest.  I am very tired." "Well," said the tree, straightening herself up as much as she could, "well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting.  Come, Boy, sit down.  Sit down and rest."  And the boy did.  And the tree was happy. 


(but not really)

Adapted from Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree

I believe what I do is valuable.


I believe what I do is purposeful.


I give you more of myself than (many days) I believe I am capable.


I do not understand what, or how, or why you want more than I have to give.  


There is nothing left.




val·u·a·ble   [val-yoo-uh-buhl, -yuh-buhl]
adjective
1.having considerable monetary worth; costing or bringing a high price: a valuable painting; a valuable crop.

2.having qualities worthy of respect, admiration, or esteem: a valuable friend.

3.of considerable use, service, or importance: valuable information.

pur·pose·ful [pur-puhs-fuhl]
adjective

1.having a purpose.

2.determined; resolute.

3.full of meaning; significant.

Living Heroes

"I have long believed that sacrifice is the pinnacle of patriotism." - Bob Riley

"Life’s most urgent question is: What are you doing for others?"  -Martin Luther King Jr.

"Only a life lived for others is worth living."  -Albert Einstein


Thank you - for suspending your whole life so they may have theirs.  One day, our some day will be our today and even then, we'll know... your sacrifices (our sacrifices) aren't forgotten. They are woven into the fabric that sets each one of us free.

I love you.  Now, come home to me.

Love,
me

Lonliness

What lies behind you and what lies in front of you, pales in comparison to what lies inside of you. Ralph Waldo Emerson The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places. Ernest Hemingway Promise me you’ll always remember: You’re braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.  Christopher Robin to Pooh (by A. A. Milne) Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it. Helen Keller It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves. Sir Edmund Hillary Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall. Confucius In the midst of winter, I finally learned there was in me an invincible summer.  Albert Camus I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.   Agatha Christie We rely upon the poets, the philosophers and the playwrights to articulate what most of us can only feel, in joy or sorrow. They illuminate the thoughts for which we only grope. They give us the strength and balm we cannot find in ourselves. Whenever I find my courage wavering I rush to them. They give me the wisdom of acceptance, the will and resilience to push on. Helen Hayes

Significance.

I found this while rummaging around.  It's just as true today as the moment my fingers touched keys nearly four years ago...perhaps, more so.



June 13, 2008 I packed up my classroom a couple of weeks ago. I know I told you I was quitting but I never really explained how or why. To be honest, I didn't want to and haven't even brought my boxes home yet. Part of me is really excited to know I'm not leaving because I didn't like it or because I wasn't good at it but the rest of me is really, really sad because I'm going to miss the 986 kids I saw every day, the 40 kids who wrote stories and read books with me, and my friends. Not to mention, I...have...no...idea what's about to happen next. I quit because I love someone more than I love my job. I told Ben it didn't matter where we lived because I can teach anywhere and it's true, I can. It's just hard for me to imagine myself somewhere when I don't know where "anywhere" is. ...and now I'm packing up my house so other people will be able to imagine themselves in it and want to buy it. That's hard. The thought of putting my life into tubs scares me a little. I know it's silly but part of me feels a significance in packing it away. I hold the drawings Ruth taped to the wall near my bed and my desk and I don't want to put them away. I'm afraid I'll forget, that something will get lost, that somehow I won't remember... And I'm sad even though I've never been so happy.

Revisiting the Past

I fly because it releases my mind from the tyranny of petty things.  ~Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Yesterday, Ruth told me she had a secret... 

"Sometimes, I wish I could fly!" 

I have secrets too.  Ruth may not realize it but we're alike in all sorts of ways. 


...all


sorts


of


ways.


Here's volume one "So I don't Forget."

An Open Letter

to Karma...

If you and I could call a truce that would be ridiculously sweet.  I thought you and I were on a pretty level playing field around 8:30 last night when I scheduled Sears to come out on TUESDAY to repair the  washing machine the beeps and flashes when you press start (but does not wash clothes).

But to keep me up ALL NIGHT with kids, who chose the ONLY night I have no means of washing sheets or blankets, as they puked all over themselves and their beds...

Well, Karma...

Oh forget it.

You win.

Love,
me

Fashion Risk

Ruth walked in this evening after hours and hours of quality "Amanda Time."  As she strolled through the front door (wearing this) she asked,   "Mom, do you know what it's called when you choose to wear several different types of clothes on the same occasion?"

She then answered her own question as she giggled.

A fashion risk.

For Max

Ruth's baby brother, Max, was born shortly after noon today.  I wasn't sure if the reality of another sibling to look after had truly sunk in, considering she's seven hundred miles away from him, but then she gave me this...

She told me not to read it - just to fold it up for her, put it in an envelope, and mail it to her brother so he could read it when he was old enough.

I followed every single one of her directions (except the first one) and I am so glad I snuck a peek before I put it in the mail for her.

Max is one lucky little boy.

Love,
me

Hot Cocoa is Best When Shared

This morning, Ruth found the Krispy Kreme coupons I'd tucked away in a drawer.

"Will you take us for hot cocoa one Sunday afternoon?" she asked, as she rubbed the glossy paper between her fingers and her thumb.

I was busy with Isabella but remember telling her we'd look for a day on the calendar.

Tonight, as I looked through her book bag, one last time, to make sure she was ready for Monday, this is what I found...

A card for her teacher.

Look, Ruth is giving our hot chocolate to someone who deserves it more!

Ruth has no idea...

I used to believe Ruth was given to me because I was lonely and I needed her.  Then later, I became certain she was mine because I had many, many lessons yet to learn.  Today, I choose to believe she is a gift.

Love,

me

I will Respond with Love

Life is too short to waste my days in irritation and anger.  

I will give thanks. 

I will talk to other people with compassion. 

... respond with love. 

                Things will go better.

(repeat 10,000 times)

Love,

me

Awesomeness...

Today, I seek awesomeness and mentorship from an unlikely guide...

Zappos - my favorite internet retailer.

Why?

I'll tell you why.

Core Values (They have 'em).

That's why.





Zappos Core Values

1. Deliver WOW Through Service
2. Embrace and Drive Change
3. Create Fun and A Little Weirdness
4. Be Adventurous, Creative, and Open-Minded
5. Pursue Growth and Learning
6. Build Open and Honest Relationships With Communication
7. Build a Positive Team and Family Spirit
8. Do More With Less
9. Be Passionate and Determined
10. Be Humble

Now, go forth and make some awesomeness.

Love,

me

Forget Me Not...

My favorite color is blue.

Which seems silly

considering how much I dislike 

the feeling.

Today,

I found myself

searching

for 

m   y   s   e    l    f

within the words

I carry.

-solace-

What I found,

instead,

were reminders

to stop grasping

for love -

Let go

       and

share it.

Forget-me-nots 

are not 

my favorite flower,

      after all,

simply because 

they sprout up across Austin with wild abandon.

No.

They are my favorite 

                 because

they are given to me

from the

 delicate grasp

of children.

-shared-

The way our lives were meant to be.

Love,

me

Breathless

I've been without breath
since the first time
I saw
      those shy brown eyes
peering
over the leather collar of a coat
shielding him
         from the December cold
                   standing
on
      the other side
of my door.

... the air still escapes me

-only-

now it disappears
                 with the realization
and acceptance
      that

he

really

is

gone.

Three Cents

This morning, I read something that struck me so deeply I repeated it several times before setting it aside.  I've been struggling to keep it all together lately and this statement...this declaration... will become my new mantra.

"I am not giving away the power and promise of my life to this situation."

I told you it was powerful.

And as though Ruth knew I needed her to be extra sparkly, this is what she shouted as we headed out the door for groceries...

"I'm going to bring good luck to other people today!"

Ruth was grinning, the patchwork pony purse was slung over her shoulder, her eyes had that special sparkle that can only be captured by her coke bottle glasses, and in her fist she was clutching three pennies.

"I've decided to leave these for strangers to find."

And that is precisely what she did.

I hope at least one of those pennies brings a smile to someone.

Love,
me

The Trembling Stops

 The life I touch for good or ill will touch another life, and that in turn another, until who knows where the trembling stops or in what far place my touch will be felt. 

Frederick Buechner

He's almost gone.  Of course, it seems like he's always almost gone...    Days will pass in slow motion -stand still- as I attempt to hold on to every moment until he really isn't here.

I
need
him.

Too Soon

 You cannot do a kindness too soon, for you never know how soon it will be too late. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson

My stomach hurts.  Right now.  I over think everything.  Do you know how many times I've written (and re-written) what you're reading right now?  If I haven't erased it all to begin again - twelve.

Last week, I spent an hour explaining why I think I talk too much yet I refuse to write in my blog because I'm afraid my words will offend someone.  Last year I told all of you, "Prayers are not recipes or formulas; they are love poems.  They need not be factual, but they must be true."  I like to think of each day as a love poem.  This year I've spent a lot of time reflecting, a lot of time crying... a lot of time wondering if I'm the only one writing love poems.

Where
has
everyone
else
gone?