My little helper.

Dear Mack,

Thank you for all of your help tonight at school. You are now an expert with self-inking stamps and white-out. I can't wait to see what you can do with highlighters and dry erase markers. Tomorrow is a work day for me, but I promise to do my best to leave work on time so that we can enjoy one last evening together before school officially begins.

You're cute. You're silly. You're mine.

And because of that, I'm blessed.

I love you!

Love, your mommy

Ready, Set ... Learn!

I've spent the past several days attending workshops, collaborating with my peers in the education field, and getting ready for another school year.

A year filled with challenges & tasks.

A year filled with learning opportunities around every corner.

A year filled with potential.

A year filled with mercy and grace.

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My room isn't completely ready.

Names need to be taped onto desks, 2 bulletin boards are still empty, and my plans for the week still need to be written.

There are things won't be completed before Tuesday morning, but I'm okay with that.

I'm a teacher, and even when you plan each and every detail of the day out to the second, something always changes.

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I learned a lot last week.

About myself, my colleagues, and my district.

We are a team, and when one of us fails or comes to a place of uncertainty ... hundreds of people are right there beside you.

Right there ... cheering you one, pushing you forward, singing at the top of their lungs with you at every peek and valley along the way.

On opening in-service day, the high school auditorium was filled with school district employees. Hundreds of people. One stood in front of her peers to sing the National Anthem. Her voice was beautiful. Part way through, the words were forgotten. Silence filled the room for a few brief moments. The sound that followed those moments of anxiety and fear is one I'll never forget. The sound of a team will echo in my ears and heart for years to come. Not a team of 5 or 6 or even 32, but a team of several passionate people, hundreds of people, singing with pride and hope along side their friend and co-worker. No one was told to join her in singing. No one started and then nudged their neighbor as if to say {come on, sing}. Powerful, moving, inspiring ... that's an understatement. Cheering erupted at the conclusion and tears welled in people's eyes.
It was a minute or two of beautiful music, but more than that, it was proof that this year, despite all of the budget cuts and challenges the lie ahead, and the stumbles we all will experience at least once, this year ... well, it is going to be one of the best.

Not just a great year ... but the BEST year!

Ready?!?

I am!

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My homework.

Assignment: to write about falling in love with teaching

Due: today

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I was born near the end of my dad's 1st year of teaching, and 33 years later, having my birthday on or near the last day of school has always been a gift in itself.

{School} has always been a part of my life.

9 months of hard, energy draining, work ... and 3 months of rest {if you can really call it rest}.

As a student and as a teacher, I've always loved school, so trying to define that moment when I fell in love with the world of education is difficult.

My love for teaching has been like riding on a roller coaster, and as the tasks and challenges and requirements seem to get harder with each passing year, I have those {moments} in my mind that seem to put everything in perspective and always bring me back for more.

Those moments when you know you're doing what you're supposed to be doing.

Those moments when no matter how hard it's been to {love} teaching ... you know tomorrow is a new day and the {love} will return. At least you pray it does.

Moments that fade in and out of your mind like:

The first day of my first year when Charlie walked in with his postcard I had sent him in hand ... thanking me for sending it, but informing me that he couldn't read it because he could not read yet. Charlie - a student who made my first year amazing and crazy at the same time. Charlie - a student I will never forget.

The green eggs and ham breakfast that Judy and I served to our first graders on March 2nd every year.

The birthday party I attended with eight of my students one weekend ... playing musical chairs and eating cake in Helena's home. I'm sure I became {human} that day in their eyes.

Singing Christmas carols to residents of Rose Arbor Assisted Living and watching my student's character shine without instruction.

Making a home visit because I wanted to - not because I had to.

And, all those day to day tasks that make up the moments I don't ever want to forget - and pray my students don't want to forget either like:

Thanksgiving Feasts, Assemblies, Field Trips, spelling tests, laptop projects, time tests, journal writing, library books, math centers, the life cycle, and the food pyramid, art fairs, book making, and so much more.

Looking back - it's obvious that I am making a difference in the life of children. {even if it does take a couple of years to realize and see it}

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I'm still falling in love with teaching and working with children, and honestly if it wasn't a {work in progress} I'd be concerned.

It's not something I've perfected or mastered at all.

To love something means you're willing to work at it - even when you don't want to.

You're willing to set aside frustrations and anxiety, and truly give it your all.

You're making a choice every day to give it a try ... and give it your best.

That's what love is.

And for me ...

love is making the choice to greet each day as an opportunity, a chance, and a hope ... that this day will be better than all the rest.

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Just a {few} more pictures from the North Fork

fishing.

floating.

enjoying life to the fullest.

... that's what this family does best ...

sometimes ...

when you decide to stay behind and {miss out on all the action} ... you experience a few of the best moments of the entire weekend.

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like a quiet school house and an opportunity to catch up on a much needed bible study

or

the sound of the water rippling over the rocks without the squeals and shouts

or

the sunlight dancing off the water as evening approaches

or

quiet and careful exploration the banks of the river bed

or

the stillness and peace that seems to calm an anxious heart

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sometimes.

the North Fork

treated us well this weekend.

We're sun-kissed, tired, and blessed.

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Mama's back to work tomorrow.

Ready or not.

Three Mile School

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Headed to the school house today.

Ritter, Oregon. {aka ... Middle. Of. Nowhere.}

Haven't been there since Mason was about 7 months old.

Looking forward to one last {getaway} before school with the family.

Monday will be here before we know it.

Happy Saturday.

Hope it's a GREAT one!

Morning.

I've always loved the {morning}.

Well, at least as long as I can remember.

Morning.

The beginning of a new day.

Another chance for the sun to start it's way up against the blue sky.

The birds greeting the beautiful light with excitement and song.

Stillness, and yet light.

The dark fading away.

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School is almost here.

Lazy mornings of reading in bed and cuddling with my boys is about over.

Am I ready?

No.

But, in a way, yes.

There is this quiet tug that makes its way to my soul.

The tug that reminds me of the joy I find in my job.

The pull that places me in front of my classroom of kids every September.

The pride I feel in knowing that I'm a teacher.

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I sat in a room filled with other educators last night.

Flip-flops, tanned skin, laughter, enthusiasm, and passion.

An opportunity to learn from each other.

A chance to share our understanding of a book we were asked to read over the summer.

A book titled {The Collaborative Teacher}.

And 3 hours later ... we each found ourselves in a place where {spectacular} was, and is, within reach.

Collaboration at its finest.

"Returning to the classroom to work side by side with colleagues determined to make a difference in the lives of children profoundly changed the way I think and behave ... I will be forever grateful to these amazing, spectacular heroes for helping me learn to never be satisfied with the status quo and to always strive to be better tomorrow than I was today." ~ Mary Ann Ranells

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It's morning here.

One of my last mornings at home in the early morning light.

And even though I'm saddened by the thought of summer coming to an end, I know in my soul that I'm doing a job I was created to do ... and I work with many of the same kind of people.

Men and women who wear multiple hats and paint their world beautiful - not because they have to, but because they want to.

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Morning.

It looks a bit different in each of our worlds, but yet, it brings the same thing.

An opportunity, a chance, a hope ... that this day will be better than all the rest.

an obituary.

I sat in the Tahoe with Mack in the middle of the cemetery.

It was quiet.

I watched Mason and Ian walk up the hill with the others, wondering what thoughts were going through my little boy's mind.

Had he ever been to a cemetery before?

Did he know what a cemetery was for?

Had I ever talked to him about the burial of a person?

Not that I could remember.

Did he understand that Bev's body would be buried in the ground, but her spirit is already at Home?

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They stepped around the trees and down the side of the hill, out of my sight.

I prayed silently.

For Bill.

For Mason.

For the friends and family that had been a part of Bev's life on earth.

I sat staring out the window, looking up and rejoicing.

She is Home.

She's not bed-ridden anymore.

She doesn't have a walker.

The ramps are gone.

She's dancing.

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The sun continued to stream down onto the headstones near our car.

I turned around and saw the box on the seat.

The box full of books Becky had returned to me.

There it was.

Right on top.

In Light of Eternity by Randy Alcorn.

I flipped toward the back of the small book, searching for the lines I had marked with stars and words a few years ago.

Peace filled my soul.

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From In Light of Eternity

Henry Van Dyke wrote:

I'm standing on the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She's an object of beauty and strength and I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and the sky come down to mingle with each other. And then I hear someone at my side saying, "there, she's gone."
Gone where? Gone from my sight, that is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side. And just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of destination. Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at that moment when someone at my side says, "there, she is gone" there are other eyes watching her come in, and there are other voices ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes."

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Bev is Heaven.

Her death was a reminder for me that I'm "homesick for Heaven."

I truly am.

It was a reminder that I must "live each day as if it were my last day here ... one of them will be."

And, a reminder that the "treasures" I have here on earth will someday end up in a junkyard.

{Stuff} isn't important.

God's not going to greet me with the words "well said, or well believed ... but well, done!"

"Our lives on earth are a training course to get us ready for heaven. It's not just that God is preparing a place for us. It's that He's preparing us for that place."

Home.

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What will our obituaries say?

"What have we done with our lives? Have we invested them in eternity? Have we carved into the minds of our families and our church and our community a burning image of the Lord Jesus Christ?"

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If you haven't read In Light of Eternity, you should.

It's worth every second it takes you to read it.

In fact, it's worth a lifetime of seconds.

the summer of '93

... was the summer before my senior year of high school.

I was working at the golf course, swimming at the lake, hanging out with my friends and somewhere in the middle of all that fun, I had my senior pictures taken.

Senior pictures were a big deal.

Had to have the right clothes.

Had to have a good location

Had to have a clear complexion.

Had to have everything {perfect}.

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I don't think much has changed.

16 years later I found myself standing in the middle of a field of CRP taking pictures of Shannon as she took pictures of me.

A little self conscious.

Not sure of how to stand or where to put my hands.

But ... then magically - something stirred inside my soul and I {knew} what I was doing and I {knew} who I was.

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16 years.

A lot has happened.

College.

Relationships.

God.

A career.

A husband.

Farm life.

Children.

Responsibility.

Friendships.

Heartache.

Prayers.

Blessings.

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I'm not unsure of my future anymore.

I'm not leaving {home} to attend college anytime soon.

I know what I'm supposed to do & am happy with my career choice.

I'm confident in who I am because of Him.

And even through the insecurities that still show up once in a while ...

I'm proud of who I am and know that He is too.

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Saturday evening I found myself in front of a camera & a giant lens.

I laughed.

I smiled.

I tried a couple of poses.

There were some awkward attempts to look natural, and some even more unflattering attempts to avoid a bird or two.

But you know what ... 16 years later ... even though

I have more wrinkles.

I have a different body.

My hair is still short.

My freckles are still there.

... my spirit shines brighter than ever before.

Not hidden.

Not masked.

Transparent.

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Thanks Shannon.

It's not every day you get to see yourself as others see you.

Stepping out from behind the camera.

It's definitely good for the soul.

out of the ordinary.

That's what today was.

Delicious cowboy breakfast in the park at 7 a.m. {thanks Bryn}

6 hours at the county fair.

A 2 hour nap for 2 of us.

caramel apples, tractors, pizza, laughter, beef jerky, tears, $3 ...

and a whole lot more details in between.

It was a Saturday that I will treasure as one of the best of the summer.

Are there really only 2 left?

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Was there anything out of the ordinary ... aka {wonderful} about your Saturday?

I certainly hope so.