Women of Faith

I am home from a very emotional and gut wrenching weekend in Sac Town. 3 girlfriends and I headed to Arco Arena to participate in the Women of Faith weekend. There was a fun Friday night in our hotel room. We also partook in outstanding Italian food at Paragary's. We had wine and Chex Mix. It was all good.

There was some outstanding music which began on Friday with Sandi Patty. Saturday we witnessed the music and praise of Avalon, Michelle Nordeman, Shelia Walsh, and the Women of Faith Praise Team. The theme was Contagious Joy. So much of what was said was a reminder to me to be joyous in all that life throws at me. I am full, tired, and on a spiritual overload. The teenager turned college guy played water polo today against the UOP alumni. I missed his play, but The Mister said he played fine but not as many minutes as some of the others. I choose to be joyous and, and not second guess why he didn't play as much. I choose to M.O.V.E. when God asks me to take a step of faith. It was a powerful weekend and I am processing all of it slowly and deliberately.

Operation Carpet Cleansing

The Mister had a large bee in his behind today. I came home from work and, yeah, well , all my furniture was stuck in various places in the hallway, bathrooms, and kitchen. It was extremely disconcerting. We've been debating whether to have the carpet cleaning company come to our humble hovel. Needless to say, the Mister decided today was the day. He moved all the furniture himself and rented the carpet cleaner. Wow! He is very very industrious. He shampooed our carpets by is own lonesome self. Amazing! Right now, at 6pm, he's propped up on the couch, which by the way, is in the kitchen, one arm on his dog, head back and snoring deep, sonorous, loud, and well deserved snores. After his nap, I'll thank him again and again. He worked like a madman and got his mind of the teenager turned college guy. The teenager-turned-college-guy is on our minds a lot. He is a keeper, that Mister of Mine.

Mindless and Brainless

It's official. I am now mindless. I forgot so many "to do's" today that it's a wonder I remembered to put my shoes on for church. Here's the litany of small and simple "must do's" that I forgot: I needed to take the place as a greeter for a friend who was out of town.; I forgot I had a youth leader meeting at noon.; I forgot I am hosting Bunco tomorrow night.; Sheesh, that's a biggee. You know 12 women rolling dice and expecting snacks, dessert, and prizes. I'm such a dork. Progress Reports. Yep, those pesky little reports that parents love, they're due to my principal tomorrow. Guess what, it's not going to happen. She'll get them Tuesday after the Monday evening of hosting Bunco. Oh, yeah, the laundry. I left a load in the washer since Friday. For crying out loud, it's Sunday. My personal trainer appointment was today. What is wrong with me? Hormones? Nope, I don't have any and I've been post menopausal and coping with generalized forgetfulness for years. What gives? I have no idea. In case you're wondering, I've forgotten two items that I forgot. Go figure......

The Mister vs Ebay

Now you have to understand that it has taken the concentrated efforts of this little family the last 14 years to get the Mister computer semi-literate. He finally went to a Seniors class at the local adult education, cocoon- pool, retired and old folks center and learned how to navigate the internet. He is now a self professed expert. He is an internet expert because he has discovered Ebay and pay pal. He browses. He shops. He spends hours looking at antique leather tools, cowboy hats, and of course bullet molds. Yep, that wouldn't be my interests, but the Mister is happy. His latest discovery was a stuffed carrier piegon circa 1865. Yes, it is a perfectly taxidermed specimen. It even has some sort of verification papers that will let the buyer know without a shadow of a doubt that this stuffed little bird actually was in business in 1865. It's not supposed to have any mites or critters. In case you can't hear me, I'm sighing big time. "That would be so neat to have." Okay, honey, whatever you say. Ummm... I think I'm going to hide the check book, credit cards, and the debit card. Or, maybe, I'll have a glass of wine. Yep, I think a glass of Syrah will be good.

Flatulence

Okay now that I have your attention, I'm writing again. And if you really want to know about flatulence read my oldest's blog. He is a prolific writer and knows his subject exceedingly well. He has researched the subject on Wikipedia and has enlightened several of his readers with the prolific production of flatus. God Bless him. I could go into the mom diatribe of, "Is this why we sent you to college?" But you know what, his witty repetoire is hysterical and I loved every irreverant word. Good job, Rob, I love you.

I'm in a mood. My oldest is holed up in the Lone Star state. The teenager turned college guy is at UOP waterpolo celebration. They beat Stanford today in double overtime. I do believe drinking and shenanigans will ensue. It is way out of my comfort zone. I'm in a mood. The Mister is deer hunting. It's opening weekend and he's out chasing innocent creatures with doe eyes in pursuit of, I'm not quite sure. I've popped a bowl of popcorn, drank a sinkful of water, and now I'm burrowing in for the night.

The water polo game was great. My youngest B team won their game 19-3 against American River Jr. College. He scored 2 goals and was majored. Man, I have no idea how he learned to be so fierce. It was great. He was also on the bench, dressed, and in his cap for the Stanford game. It was so strange to see him so grown up sitting in a black and orange cap, a Speedo with a tiger on his behind, and his name on the front, in all capital letters! Sheesh, who would have thunk it. I think I have a D 1 water polo player, for reals. I am constantly amazed. He even has a black robe with a Pacific tiger on it.

So why am I in a mood? I'm not sure. It's one of those silly introspective reflections that contribute to my overeating and self loathing. I miss the busyness of having a family around. I miss the joking, and boy stuff that constantly goes on. I wonder, what I would do if I was truly all alone. I know I wouldn't like it at all. These men in my life complete me. I have loved being a mom. I know without a doubt I can make lemonade from lemons. I know there's a silver lining to every dark cloud. I know without a single doubt that when God closes a door, He opens a window and a fresh breeze comes billowing through. I'm in a mood, because I miss my children. They are no longer children; they are young men. I am very proud of them and all their accomplishments. They are so different, the two of them and they are so alike. They both love to laugh and of course they do believe I am old and a dorkasaurus. They both are handsome and so very smart. They both are incredibly loyal to their friends and very creative. I am so incredibly blessed to have had the opportunity and privilege to borrow them from God for a brief moment in time.

But, having said that, my nest is empty. They are gone and well, I'm being a big whiney mom, but I do miss them lot. I'm in a mood. I think it's called an empty nest mood. I love you Robo and Froshy.

Autumn's wonders

The grapes are all on their last harvest. The temperatures are warm during incredible fall daylights and chilly all evening. The grape gondolas are slowly motoring down Woodbridge Road. Some of them are relics from the '40's and some are brand new creatures, large, bulky, and covering the entire lane and part of mine. The last of the night time harvesters are asleep in their barns. Their headlamps extinguished as the last of their vineyards are done. Lodi celebrated its centennial and another Grape Festival has come and gone. The Mister ate too many Lockeford sausages and sauerkraut and of course, major heart burn ensued. It's autumn in my corner of the valley. My pups are sleeping more and languishing on anything soft. The pointer is up early every morning to see if there are pheasants to be chased. My precious masked dachshund burrows deeper in her night night crate and I've turned on the heating pad for her 8 year old bones. Life still continues regardless of time, events, or emotions. I am glad. I am glad that there are realities I can count on. My valley is beautiful. I love to watch for the gentleman waiting for the bus in his suit and cowboy hat everyday that I drive to school. I love to see the older gentleman and his bicycle pedal to his yard care jobs. I love my neighbor's Italian Nana. She shares basil and tomatoes with me.

The Grape Festival reminded me of the wonder of the vine and precious wonder of continuity. The murals so lovingly made with grapes, and nuts, and creativity, made me smile more than I have in a week. Life is precious and I am back.

Rest in peace precious Kaden

The day was beautiful. The news was awash with remembrances of 9/11 and critical analysis of what should be done and what has been accomplished to protect our nation. My little class of 24 4th graders knew about the day, but their hearts were burdened by the inexplicable death of the 3 year old brother of one of their classmates. The silence in my classroom was deafening. The usual morning chatter as they turn in papers and begin writing their agendas was silenced by the heaviness of their hearts. Sitting on my little red kitchen stool, I prayed with them and asked them if they had any questions. They were insightful, caring, and wondering. Answering questions the best I could, I remembered another day in a classroom where I had to tell my class of 6th graders that Brian's father had died and how Brian was coping. On one hand, I talked about heaven, the hope we all have of seeing loved ones again, and quoting Psalms of comfort and courage.

God was with me and with my class. We spent some time writing a letter to our precious Bailey and her family. God was good. My tears were mostly in check so that I had lots of opportunities to give hugs, smooth pony tails, smooth forehead furrows, and pat backs. Teaching is such a diverse career. All in all, God was in control. He had taken a firm hand on my precious students. We finished most of our daily work and were able to walk out of Room 9 with a hug, high 5, or a handshake and a promise to continue praying. Thank you little people for loving Bailey, and not losing hope. Thank you for your dedicated dependence on an omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent God. Your are amazing, little people, and I saw God doing a mighty work in room 9 today.

Comfort for a 9 year old

On the eve of 9/11/01, I've been anticipating what questions I may have to answer about the War on Terror. We are having a remembrance at school in the morning. There will be prayer, a flag at half staff, and patriotic songs. I am dutifully watching (sort of) the ABC presentation of the events leading up to 9/11. My teenager/college guy is somewhere flying over the USA returning to the Golden State from a waterpolo tournament in Princeton. I'm also correcting spelling tests, drinking a lemon fizzie water, and I receive the call.

My principal has just informed me that the little brother of one of my 4th graders died today on the way to the hospital. I know he had been sick for over a week. We have prayed faithfully for his recovery. Today he stopped breathing. What will I say tomorrow to my class? How will I comfort them? What will be their questions? Will they feel abandoned by God? Will they doubt that God heard their prayers? Did I not take this precious little one's prayers seriously enough? Was I oblivious to their concern? Who knows what had happened? Have they watched their parents crying? Friday, the superintendent's 21 year old son had a massive coronary at Tulane University. A 17 year old Lodi girl is battling a rare form of leukemia. These are all young vibrant people I know. There is no sense in any of it. My mind is incredibly small and finite and I cannot find any words to say to my 4th grade as to why a 3 year old little brother would die from a respiratory infection. I will be in much prayer tonight. I know the Lord will help me and give me strength, empathy, and words. I am inadequate. My words will sound hollow and shallow and trite and thoughtless without God's Holy Spirit guinding each and every moment that I am interacting with these precious children. He has never failed me. I will depend on Him.

Tribute

Steve Irwin is one of my heroes. He was a passionate and definitive educator. As a teacher, I hope that I might inspire because of my love of learning. The Crocodile Hunter inspired millions of children and he inspired me. In my career the dream is to live a teaching life of hope, passion, and love for what I do. Thank you for the appreciation and inspiration you taught me for creatures I don't understand. Thank you for living a life of teaching and educating. All of us who ever experienced one of your demonstrative and larger than life lessons have been enriched and informed, inspired and transformed. Rest in peace, sweet man. I have learned so much from you. ....Crocs Rule!