Miracles

This is how I visualize it: the angels of the Heavenly Miracle Review Committee are sitting around in a circle of silver-lined clouds, looking through the last month's worth of miracles. The file is thick, so the committee is pleased with the thought that the monthly miracle quota has been met. They are about to sign off with a big gold checkmark when a tiny angel on a corner cloud pipes up: "Wait! I just have this feeling: we need ONE more miracle, just one more. And I know who it needs to go to."

The miracle went to my oldest (and pregnant) sister, who was T-boned by a drunk driver Wednesday night in Spokane. Her car spun in a full circle and flew up over the hood of a nearby vehicle. Four witnesses stopped their cars in a protective road-block, then watched in absolute disbelief as my sister stepped out of her totalled car. The passenger riding with the drunk driver collapsed onto the sidewalk in sobs, and another driver could not stop crying and shaking from what she had just witnessed. When the EMTs saw my sister's car they prepared to extricate a dead person. They couldn't believe she was standing right there in front of them. "People don't just walk away from hits like this," they kept saying. My sister is matter-of-fact about it: "God gave me a miracle. He was true to His promises."

Inspiration

For one of my literacy classes, I'm compiling 25 "multicultural children's literature cards" to be use in my future classroom. One of the books I selected for this project is entitled I Have A Sister, My Sister Is Deaf. I love this book - it's gentle, realistic, and best of all, provides numerous starting points for literacy activities. When I use this book in my classroom I'd like to have my students be "deaf for a day" - or at least 30 minutes - and reflect on the experience of not having one human sense on which to rely. The object is for them to learn how their other senses "fill in the gaps." This morning, I came across a video about a blind photographer. Here again, an example of a person who relies on his other senses to "fill in" for not being able to see. He does "see" images, but through the image of sound. Very cool concept. Check it out: http://vimeo.com/14179548. You may be inspired! 

Cowgirl at Heart

I lean against the sun-warmed fence, watching as Amy shows her horse to an interested couple. She has been trying to sell her horse for months now. No reason save lack of time. I find myself regretting this as I watch Amy. She is obviously happy around her horse. She sits tall in the saddle and moves in rhythm with her horse's stride, speaking a language only they two share. I smell the coppery warmth of Angel's coat, the sweet whiff of her breath. Her eyes are half-closed in the sunshine, but she is paying close attention to the people around her. Suddenly, I sense myself wanting to be close to this horse. I have never thought of myself as a "horse person," but why not? I love horses. I love their strength, their speed, their gentle power. I love how I feel next to a horse, awed and yet protected by a quiet giant. I love how I feel on top of a horse, free and at home in the closeness of a transferred trust. I love the smell of horses, hay, leather, and tack. The smells calm me and make me feel that everything's okay with the world. I love the sound of a horse's tail swishing, its breath whooshing and its long teeth cruching. I love the sight of horses running in the wind. Sometimes I can almost feel myself running with them, tossing my hair and racing the ground just to understand my own restlessness. During some of the worst days of my life, it was horses that helped heal my broken spirit. Trail riding the Grand Tetons was an journey I wanted never to end. I have dreamed of riding a wild horse, bareback and barefoot, full speed across the open country. Some day, even if it's in heaven, I know I will have just such an experience. Until then I am left wondering, am I actually, after all, a cowgirl at heart? 

Breathless Moments

While we were out walking this morning, my younger sister Amy contemplated aloud on this quote: "Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away." You can't plan those moments. I don't know if you can even purposely put yourself in a situation where such moments are more likely to occur. But you do play a conscious role in that you allow yourself to be open to wonder, to the unforeseen miracles that sneak up on you when you least expect them. Like the golden bloom of a daffodil that has survived late spring frosts. Or the laughter of an infant in her sleep. Or the touch of a friend you have not seen in years. Thank God for those moments that take our breath away. Those are the moments when a fold of heaven crinkles into our life on earth.

Enough

Matthew, one of my five brothers, is studying to be a doctor. He is also a born organizer. This year, he organized a "Wellness Challenge" to promote the health and well-being of family and friends. My sister Amy and I agreed to sign up for the challenge, if for nothing else to support Matthew's efforts. Every week we attempt to complete a list of activities designed to improve our mental and physical health.

This is Week 10 of the 10-week challenge, and I am assessing my results. Not such a pretty picture. Did I renew my gym membership? No. Did I register for and complete an "Athletic Event"? No. Did I make significant gains in lowering my cholestorol levels, losing weight, and eating a diet of nonprocessed foods? Um, no. In fact, I'm the heaviest I've ever been in my life! So what's going on? Well, evidently I'm a "holder" of all the stress which has underlined our lives the past few months. The conflict between my parents, the upheaval of my family, the uncertain paths of my younger siblings, the adjustment into parenting my youngest sister... has all settled in my stomach. Add to that trying to perform well academically in my six college classes and four teacher Praxis tests - let's just say it hasn't been an easy semester. I haven't been able to devote myself as I had hoped to the Wellness Challenge, and subsequently have not arrived at the results I expected of myself. I always want success, but herein lies a lesson of accepting what is enough.

So what is enough? For now, it is awareness. Awareness of how I spend my days, as recorded in my Fitness Log in the form of meals eaten, exercise undertaken, activities enjoyed, and hours slept. Awareness of how I am fueling my body, mind, and heart. Awareness of how I can improve upon that baseline. So I didn't reach the results for which I'd hoped. But I did gain more awareness, knowledge which will at some future point be tangibly applied to my life. And that, for now, is enough.

May Day

Happy May, world! I stepped outside this morning into sunshine. And breathed it in with gratitude. Sunshine helps me breathe. I don't know why, but I forget to breathe. Seriously. I'll be going through my day or be in the middle of a physical activity, and realize I have forgotten to breathe. Maybe I need one of those blonde-joke heasets which repeats, "Breathe in, breathe out." Or maybe I just need sunshine. The warmth of golden rays reaches my heart, releases everything held inside, and pushes air through my lungs. I haven't read it, but I know of a book entitled "Breathing Lessons." Perhaps I ought to write an autobiography entitled "Learning to Breathe."

Osama bin Laden was killed by U.S. soldiers today. The news is all over the television. I am listening in a kind of half-there state, looking at the celebrating crowds at Capitol Hill and Ground Zero with mixed feelings. One thing I love about America is its resilient spirit, the collective force of millions which believe we have freedoms to believe in and fight for. September 2001 tore at our spirits as it challenged our freedoms. Of  course we want to celebrate the death of a man who symbolized  the antithesis to our American spirit. I get that. There's a bittersweet kind of justice that comes with the end of a terrorist. But at the same time, I can't join in the celebration of a life no longer. So many individuals, around the world, have sacrificed their lives for the cause of their country. My prayers go out to our men and women who continue to fight for what America believes, long past the end of one man in history.

Just Wondering...

...how do I help someone just "push the easy button"? I can't seem to get through to her that life really doesn't have to be so complicated.

...why do I keep having visions of a sunny beach? Is it because sunshine is the most elusive element outside right now?

...what do I have to do to get over my apprehension toward tests? Fail one?

...when will I finally know where I'm going to be student teaching? It seems as if a lot of other plans revolve around that one. 

...where can I go on spring break to shut my mind off? Completely.

Admissions

All right, I'll admit it: this snow is my fault. I left my Jeep out last night. Without fail, every time I decide to leave my Jeep outside the garage (thinking, oh so naively, that it will be a clear night), it snows. We have six inches already, and it's still snowing heavily. Now, we haven't gone an entire week without snow yet this spring; however, THIS is crazy! The world outside is completely reverted back to January. I am beginning to wonder if I am going crazy. Was the snow ever even melted? Were the green grass and colorful crocuses just a dream? And WHY did I write yesterday's blog ("Just A Dream")? Because I do believe it jinxed spring! Sorry, folks. I've learned my lesson. I'll keep my dreams to myself and my Jeep in the garage.

Was it Just A Dream?

Waking up
To golden streaks on my bedroom wall
Birds singing
Flower-scented air

We walk the neighborhood
Enjoying the laughter of children
Bikes, lawn mowers, rakes, and straw hats
Out from musty winter storage

The sky is blue
So blue I am dizzied by its brilliance
And the sun is warm
So warm the long winter inside me
Begins to melt

We open the garage
And begin to organize
I sort through bags of recyling -
Cardboard, aluminum, paper, plastic -
My life through a recyle bin

We sweep the porch
Brush down wasps' nests
Empty the gutters
Refill bee catchers

We beat the rugs
Vacuum the floor
Wipe down the vehicles
Remove streaks from the windows

Hamburgers on the grill
Jimmy Buffet from the loudspeakers
A whiskey sour in hand
I sit with my love
and watch the sun set over our quickly-greening lawn

My sister joins us
and we chat
We talk of ho-hum things
and mysteries beyond our knowledge

Sunshine has moved
from the atmosphere
into my heart
I am happy
I am sunburnt
THIS was a spring day
Or was it just a dream?

Memory Shelf

Last night I stopped in at my dad's house to pick up a couple children's books for one of my classes. As I looked over the shelf of choices, memories spilled over me. Memories of reading these books, alone and with my siblings, sprawled on the couch or curled up in one of my hideouts. These were the books that introduced me to the literary world. Just running my fingers over their well-worn titles, I could recall the images, the stories, and all the emotions that accompanied the time spent reading them. I did not find the books I was looking for (a series which somehow all NINE of my siblings still remember fondly!), but I did find several other books which hold significant memories for me in their yellowed pages.

By the way, if any of you are looking for an awesome children's book series, the "Woodland Folk" by Tony Wolf is my hands-down childhood favorite. You can check out some of the illustrations from the books at http://knittingiris.typepad.com/knitting_iris/2007/01/woodland_folk_b.html. I can't wait to track down our family's old series, wherever they are, and get lost in their magic!

Welcome to Alaska

One of the Spinoff activities I did with my sister for this class was to write a timeline of our lives, then look for the major transitions and choose one to "explode." For lack of inspiration in regards to today's blog, I'm just going to include my "exploded moment" (arriving in Alaska for the first time):

“Prepare for landing.” I slip off my headphones and stash them in my purse. My stomach flip flops as I peer out the tiny plane window in an attempt to discern the scenery below. Multi-hued lines of blue are quickly taking formation, revealing mountains and lakes pushed up against each other by glistening glaciers. The plane touches down with a grinding lurch. I’m here. “Welcome to Alaska,” the man next to me smiles. “You’ll love this land. I guarantee it.” The lack of doubt in his voice strikes me anew. I have spent the plane ride from Seattle talking to the native Alaskans around me who are returning home after their winter respite in warmer regions. They are at once genuinely welcoming and remotely defensive, as if they desperately want you to love Alaska like they do. Living in Alaska is a choice. These people wear the choice on their faces, deep grooves worn by years of fighting the harsh environment. They reflect the choice in their eyes, wells of determination and experience. I have not even set foot on Alaskan soil, but I already feel its wild power rushing through my body. It is time to experience the Great Land.

Where is Spring?

My last sight of the outdoors before dark closed in was of snow playing with the wind. So guess what I dreamed of? Snow. In the morning, snow was covering the kitchen countertops, drifting in fluffy patterns over every object left out from the night before. "What is THIS?" I yelled at my husband. "Isn't this what we have a roof for? To keep the SNOW out?" He was dressed in his winter gear - hat, gloves, and all. Smiling from ear to ear (he loves snow!) and shoveling - shoveling! - paths through our house. "Well, sometimes this happens," he explained as if it were the most reasonable occurrence in the world, "It happens when there's too much condensation in the air." You've got to be kidding me! I kept looking up at the roof, as if I expected to find the traitor holes that had let the snow in. "Where am I going to put all this snow?" I started crying. And woke up. Thank God that was just a dream. But obviously there's some processing going on here. WHERE IS SPRING?

Only Ten Minutes

With only 10 minutes, you could...
     ...do one set from a Pilates workout DVD.
     ...play fetch with your dog.
     ...sweep the kitchen floor.
     ...write a "thinking of you" card to a friend.
     ...fold a load of laundry.

Or, with only 10 minutes, you could...
     ...skydive from 12,500 feet.
     ...rappell down a 300-foot cliff.
     ...climb a W.3 ice fall.

Or, with only 10 minutes, you could just post an entry on BlogSpot!

Randomness

Twirling, tapping, pointing, floating... Amy and I are watching the varied choreographies at DanceFest. I am impressed, but not inspired to take up dancing again myself. When I see the Scottish Highland dancers on stage, I can remember every step, feel the swish of the kilt and the lift of the leg - but I don't want to be a Scottish Highland dancer again. That was a time, a past time.

Talking, laughing, questioning, screeching - I'm trying to help Amy with her advanced grammar lesson. I tell her one thing, and her computer program says something else. Once upon a time I knew all these terms. Why can't I remember what a dangling participle is? What's more, how applicable is this knowledge?

Clanging, banging, potting, plating - my husband is cooking dinner. Barbecued steak, no less. The smell makes me long for summertime. There are still patches of snow on our lawn from where it snowed this morning. I want to go somewhere warm, somewhere sunny, and sleep... and sleep...

My Own Interpretations

Have you heard of TLA's? It's the language we increasingly speak in, the longer we are involved with any given field and the more experienced we become with terms. TLA stands for three-letter acronyms, like ABE (Adult Basic Education). It refers to the host of acronyms that accompanies any given field. For this blog entry, I'm going to amuse myself by making up my very own interpretations for special education TLA's.

IEP (formerly Individualized Education Plan) - Information Excess Problem. The situation in which you are bombarded by way more information than you can possibly take in. In other words, school.

RTI (formerly Response to Intervention) - Really Tremendous Indifference. The state of mind you entertain toward any form of studying, homework, or assignments by the end of the semester - or right after a mid-term break, for that matter.

LRE (formerly Least Restrictive Environment) - Least Renewed Energy. The personal label that sets you apart from other students at your college who actually GOT a spring break.

BIP (formerly Behavior Intervention Plan) - Behaving Irrationally Periodically.  The behavior condition which seems to plague you more and more frequently as the semester wears on... and on...

APE (formerly Adapted Physical Education) - Already Past Estimation.  The hours you have spent staring at a computer screen in order to complete your online classes.

This blog entry is dedicated to students who can understand the paradoxical challenges we take on to earn a way-too-important piece of paper (i.e., college degree).

School

At this point in the semester (and my degree), I feel as if I'm only doing school to get to an endpoint. I anticipate the point in the week where my assignments are all done, and the point in the year where I have a few days off. I wish I could maintain a more consistent motivation toward school. It seems to be caught somewhere between the stacks of textbooks, computer folders, online discussion boards, and Praxis tests. While on our daily walk this morning, my little sister Amy and I got to talking about school. I don't know how the NCLB Act came up, but it did; and I got on a roll. From standardized testing to inclusion practices to content standards, I covered it all - and then some. We were still talking half an hour after getting back home. Amy got almost as impassioned as I when I mentioned the things that are going on in Idaho education/educational politics right now. "What can I DO?" she asks. Her willing enthusiasm makes me smile. What CAN we do? I am not yet a teacher. So what I can do is buckle down and finish out this education which will certify me for being a teacher, for doing what I can to improve the future of our educational system. 

Silly Doggy

Since Day 1, my dog Kona and I have had a challenging relationship. I drove the truck and my husband held Kona when we took him home at seven-and-a-half weeks. He whined the whole way. That night, in his new kennel with a fuzzy blanket and stuffed animal, he let loose noises like I have never heard. The closest I could say is a mix between a cat whose tail is caught under a rocking chair, a hyena trying to swallow an alligator, and a siren flooded with water. The whining - and the "special" crying - didn't stop once Kona got accustomed to his new home. He seemed to take pleasure in voicing himself every time he was exposed to a new element or situation. For months, he would suddenly start barking growling and barking at some random item in our house that had been there before him but that he finally noticed.

I've never had an inside dog, so I've really had to adjust to the noises, smells, dog hair, and accommodations which naturally come with a dog being part of the family. It hasn't been easy. Kona, as a chocolate lab, requires constant supervision. Only in the past few weeks have I been able to leave him alone for a few minutes without worrying that he will consume the kitchen baseboard or the contents of the washroom trashcan. So far - knock on wood - we haven't lost anything to his strong chewing tendencies. (A small miracle, I suppose, if you're familiar with the story "Marley and Me"!) 

Kona will continue to be a challenge. But I don't know if I'd want it any other way. He makes us laugh. He loves to chase his tail in figure-eights around our legs, howl along with my little sister when she plays her accordion, and race crazily around the livingroom with his rear end tucked under and his ears back. He's the only dog I've ever met that doesn't like riding in the car - when he thinks he has to go with us, he runs into his kennel and stands quietly peeking out, as if we can't see him. Yesterday, I looked outside to find him standing on the edge of the deck, just checking out the world:

When my little sister Amy goes outside to call Kona in, he will run behind a tree and stand there as if he thinks she can't see him:

Thank heaven for dogs. Sometimes they are far more enjoyable than people.

Living Color

I love color. I love the color that appears in nature, the brilliant blue of the sky and the crystal green of a mountain lake. I love the color that appears in food, the rich blush of a pepper and the smooth yellow of a banana. I love the color that appears in clothing, the vibrant strands of an Indian weave and the flaming red of a Spanish skirt. But most of all, I love the color that appears in humanity, the flush of pink that accompanies surprise and the glow of golden life shining from someone's eyes.

Here are just a few snapshots I've taken lately of the color around my home...

Taking A Break

Does anyone else find it difficult to take a break? I was raised with the mindset that time is for productivity. Sitting about and relaxing is not productive, therefore should be engaged in as little as possible. Thankfully, I've been able to learn that sitting around and relaxing is not only productive, but is also necessary at times. Sometimes you've just gotta take a break. Unfortunately, I still haven't figured out how to let my mind take a break. It's always racing along to the next thing I have to do, the last thing I learned, the situations and people around me. I've tried meditation - and fall asleep. I've tried running - and just think about other things. So now I'm trying just "letting it go" and giving myself a break. Self-talk: "I've done the best I can. That's all for now." Problem is, "try" is an operative word, and I need to stop operating. Hmmm...

Bubble Tea

Do you know what a "small joy" is? It's the little glimpse of heaven's sunshine filtering through life's tasks. It's the "something" that gives you a little hiccup of happiness when you least expect it. Like bubble tea. Bubble tea is a traditional Vietnamese sweet drink, made with large tapioca pearls and various ice- or cream- based flavors. I first tried bubble tea when I visited New York City in 2005. I loved it. Let's just say it's one of the most fun experiences you can have with a beverage. I had my fair share of bubble tea experiences while living in the NoVA/DC area. It was the first thing I went for when going "back east" to visit. This area of the country isn't as diverse, so I was absolutely amazed when I saw a BUBBLE TEA! sign on the corner of Trent and Sullivan in Spokane. Seriously? Yep, now it's my weekly tradition to stop by Lalozy's coffee stand when driving my little sis to Spokane. We chat with the adorable Vietnamese couple who run the shop and drive away with smiles, content that even here in our little corner of the country we can experience a taste of another culture. Small joy, but not insignificant.