The Perfect Wind of the Valley

Rolling hills and snow-coverend mountains - huge evergreen trees and those which have lost their leaves, months ago. None of this landscape could be well captured in a photograph and as much as I try to capture it in a space of my memory, life has taught me that I will hold even that accurate picture only a little while. So, as we drive along through the Appalacian Mountains this Christmas season of 2009, I try to hold in words this picture before me.

The trees bend under the weight of the snow. Trees that have been there, growing through each of the changing seasons through hundreds of years and a few inches of white snow causes them to give way to nature. They bed and bow as if in submission to wahtever may come, in total reverance. They bring me to quiet tears and take my breath away.

Just over another mountain sits a long-ago abandoned barn at the edge of a recently frozen lake and I am reminded of young and old; of things forgotten and those fresh in my memory; my own long-ago abandoned ideas and those which have recently taken hold; things past and those yet to come.

Each of these thoughts circle my mind when Josh Grobin comes on the radio singing the Christmas Carol, "Oh hear the angels sing; Peace on Earth, Goodwill to men" as we drive through the pass - a valley of the mountain range. I feel that God is certainly with us here. The spiritual presence of Mother Nature circles around us in the calm, peace-giving wind. Around my very heart and soul. Around my own body and womb that will someday soon hold in safety my precious child. She is already held in that perfect wind of the valley.

Just before we crossed into North Carolina from Virginia, the horizon in front of us changed and a pink sky emerged atop the mountains before us. We hadn't realized it before, but we had been going up, up, up all along and were now seeminly at the top of the world. The snowdusted landscape lay before us and we could see hundreds of miles in every direction. Could it be symbolic that we don't know we're at the top of the world until we're heading down? We couldn't stop and cherich it any longer; we had to keep moving and were accelerating down. But, oh, to stay in that moment looking off into the distance as far as we could see, to the highest mountain miles and miles away which bridged the space between the snowy valley and pink afternoon sky - oh, to capture forever that beautiful sight! Carpe Diem! yes, Longfellow, "Act that each tomorrow might find us further than today" - but, we must also remember to just stop and relish today. This spot. This moment in the clouds.

Perfect Day

We will look back on those pictures and remember it always as the perfect day that it was - full of play and laughter from the children and the adults. All of us in our white shirts and blue jeans - a family created by those two who somehow still love each other and have stuck it out through the trials, who raised three children who understand committment, love, and family. Is there a better tribute to my mom and dad that having us all together, all matching, all happy (even though we, too, have fought through our own trials). Brad and Christina with their beautiful girls; Brent and me with our wonderful boys; Nathan and Dawn who've not yet embarked on family-life but who will - and Mom and Dad who started it all. I was so proud to be with this family, my family, whom I love so dearly and who have made me who I am. I am so thankful.

Those Fading Childhood Days

What to do when our little boys grow up -

When that child we once held in our arms,

who was so little pressed against our hearts,

is too big to carry - Oh, how I long for that baby

who once cried but was soothed as I rocked him to sleep.

Now, he's too big to rock in that old chair we've given away.

Too big to sit in that once pea-ridden high chair.

Too big to suck on that pacifier that used to stay c

ontinually in his mouth

(oh, and the one in his hand just in case).

I miss the baby he once was and long for that part of mothering

that is forever gone.

I wish I could slow down these days -

these days that I know will also be gone from me too quickly.

How can I make it all last longer?

How can I revel in these moments of firsts

oh, just a little longer?

Movies in My Mind

I gathered every available chair in the house
The dinning room chairs used for family meals
The high chair, property of my baby brother
The carraige (mine - for my babies)
And I sat.
I sat in front of the dishwasher
Just waiting for the show to begin
My mother swarmed around me
Cooking
Cleaning
Crafting her projects
In my mind, I was crafting my own project
The movie that was about to "play" on the screen before me
Was but a figment of my young and vivid imagination.
Yet, to me, it was everything.
It was an escape. It was freedom.
It was so real.
The noise of my brothers quieted.
And a world was created where none existed.
A world all my own.
How I cherished these "movie" times.
Where have they gone?
Oh, where have all the stories,
all the imaginary "real" stories, gone?

Applause

This morning on my drive to school the wind was blowing just enough to ruffle the leaves on the already changing trees. My first thought was that it looked like hands applauding - cheering the morning commuters on their way to schools and works. As I was driving, I passed a boy walking just under the applauding tree. He looked rather forlorn and an Eyore-type cloud seemed to hang over his head; he didn't notice the cheering trees. I wonder how much better all of our days would be, though, if we did pay attention to the beautiful nature surrounding us, encouraging us, cheering us on even during our roughest moments. We could all use a little more of that, I think. A little sunshine and a little applause to start our days. I'm thankful for that moment today - it's just what I needed!

Chiseled By the Hands of Experience

Yes, this is why girls love and need their mothers so much! Because they really hear us when no one else does...not really. And after all we put them through, they love us and listen to us anyway. They understand; they're there. Always.

Over the past few days my children have truly demonstrated the old adage that we're repaid for all the torture we bestoy on our parents - especially our mothers! Yesterday, Brock came home without the project we've spent the week working on (that's due today, by the way!). Then, he began complaining about football practice and guitar practice, both of which take precious time away from playing with the boys down the block. I reminded him that he chose to do those things and that I didn't want to hear it; of course, I was heard just as much as I'm sure I heard my own mother as a similarly irresponsible child.

And, of course - since I was already so annoyed, Jackson would wake up this morning completely unhappy and un-consolable with the clothes, shoes, and socks I'd laid out for him to wear. So, I did what moms do - I gave the speech to both of them about being more appreciative. More responsible for themselves. I was boiling over with stress and frustration.

So, who did I call? My mother. Thank God for mothers! I kept venting as I walked into school and then, just as poetic justice would work, I realized (upon reaching my classroom) that I'd left my badge at home and my computer in my truck. So much for my responsibility talk!

Forged by Fire

Oh, the battles we've faced and the goals we have accomplished! From college kids ignorantly blissful about our new family to successful adults who were able to succeed when no one thought we could. Fulfilling our own life's purpose; our own life's dream; making our way to our own pyramids. How can I not think of The Alchemist when I think about how we've had our own paths to take in this journey of life? It's hard to believe that we have come so far and to a place where we are really where we want to be.

Congratulations to you! And, congratulations to me!

I watched you wake up this morning and dress in your slacks, shirt, and tie. Then, I watched as you pulled your white coat over your shoulders. The same white coat I saw on the back of the couch before we went to sleep last night with a stethoscope lying on top of it. This is a man living his dreams, I thought. Even through it all - you're able to fulfill your dreams. I'm so proud of you and you should be proud, too.

Then, I drove into my parking spot at school after dropping off the children. I walked into AHS and felt at home in my profession: the room I've decorated with my books and my literary world; the kids whom I love. I'm so glad to be where I am - where I'm meant to be. How blessed and fortunate are we to live the lives we planned after all the trials and all the work; to have made it to these pyramids of our dreams. The blood, sweat, and tears that have lead us here.