Little Square

In the mornings while we eat breakfast, we look out our front window and notice the sunrise.  Now don't get me wrong, we don't actually see the sun rise nor do we ever see the sun set.  We live in the middle of the city, and there are buildings and trees all around which limit our views of either horizon.  I should say that we see the colors streaked across the sky so we know the sun is close to either going to bed or getting up.

So in the morning, as we either look out the window or we sit on the porch swing with our coffee, we can see the sky in a square, framed by trees on two sides and the roof of a building at the elementary school across the bottom of the square.  In this square for a time in the morning, the sky is orange/pinkish and if there are clouds, the picture which is painted is amazing.

Although I can be a little unhappy that this is all I get to see, (and in the evening the view of the sunset is even more obstructed), I still get to see what's happening in my square every morning, which draws me to think of Him who upholds the order and functioning of the universe every second of every minute of every hour of every day.   The view of my square is a view of a Creator who invites me each day to trust in Him and to follow His voice, to be still and know that He is God.

I have many concerns this day.  I have much to fret and be anxious about but the square is a gift to me to remind me of Him who is faithful to keep all His promises, and this reminder is all I need.

Heart cries

The first few days of August, I injured my lower back wrestling with a heavy potted plant.  It's a month later and I still have pain - however - there's hope on the horizon as I'm getting a nerve block Friday.  I am so looking forward to this and am trusting that it will work.

But you know, what I have is minor compared to others I know who are suffering greatly.  It is almost overwhelming for me to think of people in my circle who are truly needing an intervention from our God.  I know He knows all, sees all, and works in ways we cannot even imagine to care for us, His children - I know He knows our sorrows.

I am going to be brave and try to put into words something I have not shared with many but if you know me well, you will understand.  I have always been tenderhearted, with a tendency to cry during coffee commercials, movies, TV shows - you name it.  When I tell people goodbye I choke up.  When I look at my friend and she's sharing her heart and I see tears, I'm there.  I've actually gotten to the point where I could not speak at a couple of memorable staffings when talking with parents about their kids.  When I have to deliver hard news to a parent, particularly that my findings are that their child is intellectually disabled (used to be called mentally retarded), I practice for days before ever meeting with them so that I can make it through that difficult conversation and maintain composure.

Today at school a friend needed someone to talk to.  As she shared a very difficult situation with me regarding her family, she apologized for "burdening" me, and I heard myself say to her as I hugged her:  "It's ok, I've got room for you to give it to me".

Tonight, it seems the weight of the world's sorrows are upon me.  My heart is broken for police officers affected by violence and for racial tension which is ever present.  I am sorrowful for those I know who are suffering from cancer, those who have been recently widowed, and those who are living with mental illness.   It is overwhelming.

And then, two days ago, I ran into this you tube video which someone posted on Facebook, of a flash mob singing Every Praise in downtown Birmingham Alabama.  I have viewed it several times.  I have sung it all day at work.  I have listened to it tonight again.  And I STILL cannot make it through without tears.  It for some reason, has resonated deeply within me, teaching me, reminding me, and comforting me that God is our Savior, He's our Healer, and He's our Deliverer.  Every praise, every word of praise, every hallelujah, is to our God.

A lot of the burden I feel is for our world today.  I have no solutions for the mess we're in, and we people living in these United States - we are truly in a mess.  No politician will save us.  No leader who arises will save us.  No government will save us.  Our only hope is to trust in the living God, who brings to power rulers and authorities as He wills and just as easily dismantles them.  What I'm longing for is a wind sweeping over the land, a holy wind, a Spirit of healing, hope, and of conviction - a Spirit who will turn our hearts toward our God so that every praise and every hallelujah is to Him.

I long for the Church to arise, and to boldly proclaim truth with great power.  I long for people to hear that truth, and to hear the voice of  God who loves them so dearly and who wants them to come into His family.  And as much as people would like to blame the Republicans for the mess Kansas is in, and the Democrats for the mess Washington is in, the truth of the matter is that the mess we're in is because we as a nation have strayed far from Truth.  We have not bowed our hearts to Him and thus, we have sinned.  We have proudly and boldly proclaimed error as truth and God as a fairy tale.  We have decided for ourselves what is right and what is wrong, and we are complacent and compromising, putting our trust not in God, but in those who lead us astray.

Every praise is to our God.  Every word of praise is to our God.  Every hallelujah is to our God.

If you believe this, then I challenge you to live it.  Here's a link to the flash mob at 5 Points South in Birmingham.  Copy and paste, or go to You Tube and search for it using that title.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HRnMGWBa7Ko

Recouperation

Three weeks ago last Thursday, I injured my back somehow, someway.  MEC visit, doc office visit, two MRI's, and what do I have - a whole lot of inflammation which needs to get taken care of.  I have not been to work since Monday, August 8.  Sitting, standing, laying down, walking - all of these were painful.   So since Thursday this week, I've been on some higher powered anti inflammatory pills, and a narcotic in an effort to deal with the inflammation so that I can go back to work on Monday.  I'm pretty much a zombie this weekend, and am only writing this because I just took meds and they'll take awhile to kick in.

I'm an active person, so this is a different scenario for me - to just not do anything.  Doctor's orders were strict - no going ANYWHERE, no doing ANYTHING.

After the injury happened, depression soon followed.  It was difficult for me to carry out these orders and not see anyone day in and day out except the two men I live with.

So tonight I'm grateful for two work friends, who took the time to not only come by, but to bring dinner three different nights so that I didn't have to worry about cooking.  It is true what the writer says :  "There is a friend that sticks closer than a brother..."  (Proverbs 18:24).   I think of those who have neither family nor friends to help in times of need and I have come away with a new appreciation for brothers and sisters who live with chronic pain and who are lonely and discouraged. I've been recently convicted that I can do more than what I've been doing to meet needs.  I can do more.  I can do more than put someone's name on a prayer list.  What that "more" looks like, I don't know, but suffering this comparatively mild condition, and dealing with feelings of loneliness and isolation have changed me.

Rare Moments

Have you ever experienced a moment so perfect that you thought to yourself - I really must remember this, this right here, this experience, this perfect time when the world around me is so wonderful I can't believe it?  I'm struggling for words because this happened to me last night.

It was between 9 and about 9:40 in the evening.  The spouse was off work for the holiday and we had completed a busy day.  We ended up on the swing in the backyard and watched the sun set.  The twilight was cool with just a slight breeze.  Fireflies were beginning their evening dance rituals and the neighbors were lighting fireworks.

I sat down first and waited for him to return with a beverage for him and when he came out, he sat right beside me, not on the other end of the swing.  He said, sipping from his bottle, "We got a lot done today".  I agreed and an easy quiet conversation followed - I really can't even remember specifically what we talked about, but that's not really important.

You would think that a man and a woman who have lived together for 39 years might have nothing to say, and sometimes we don't - words are superfluous at times.  But as we sat there together and relaxed, I was reminded again of how perfect he is for me, and how well we fit.  There's no one I'd rather share these intimate moments with than him.  How grateful I am for his steadiness, his faithfulness, and his sharing with me who he is.

I'm blogging about this because even if no one reads this post, I want it recorded for me.  I want to be able to reach back and remember that this specific thing (event or incident sounds way too harsh for this) happened, and how I felt - and, how thankful I am for him.

To quote Garrison Keillor in one of the most favorite books I own "Leaving Home" - he says - "Thank you God for this good life, and forgive us when we don't love it enough."

The Other Side of the Tracks

In this large city I call home, we live close to downtown in an historic neighborhood, characterized by old houses which have been restored, rentals (some kept up and some not), houses in disrepair, and, like ours, houses not exactly in disrepair, but houses that need work to keep them updated. We have lived here many years and know most of our neighbors, it is comfortable and home to us.  Many of our acquaintances, however, would not feel safe here - and don't get me wrong, I don't throw caution to the wind and leave things unlocked, but neither do I fear going outside, walking in my neighborhood (during the day anyway), or sitting on my screened in porch anytime of the day or night.

A couple of evenings ago, I had the occasion to be in a home in the "Oaklawn" neighborhood.  This area is located in the southeast part of my city, and was built shortly after WWII in answer to the aircraft companies needing cheap, fast, affordable housing for its workers.   According to an internet source -

The homes weren't fancy, being built on concrete pads, and followed the same simple design throughout. Some were two bedroom, others were three bedrooms, and a few were small cottage types. The housing was only temporary until the city's economy caught up with Boeing and more homes could be built and sold. The long term plan was to demolish the structures and return the area to its original condition.

However, nothing was demolished, and Oaklawn today, particularly on the south side is cheap, rundown rentals, couches in yards, peeling paint, dogs on chains in the front yards, abandoned vehicles, and about everything you wouldn't want in a neighborhood, particularly in the mid section of this area.  There are homes that have been kept up, but these are not in the majority.  There is a small park for kids which looks like it has recently been built, and there are people who take pride in ownership of their homes, but they are few.

After I left my friend's house, I drove through Oaklawn looking for an address of someone I've known (but I've only been to her house twice).  I normally am not on high alert as I drive through neighborhoods, but this was different.  I saw two guys in a fist fight on the street, and as I kept going, turned down a road that ended up being a circular drive with people out in their yards watching me as I passed by.  Junk piled on curbs, people standing in the street, dogs barking - these things contributed to an extremely uneasy feeling I had and I got out of there, thankfully finding a street which dumped out on 47th street.

I have been thinking about this a lot - what it must be like to be afraid to live in your own home?  What it must be like to not be able to be comfortable in your own environment?  What kids are like who grow up there in poverty and to the sounds of gunfire and the smells of unpicked up trash?  It would be difficult to live each day on "high alert", and very taxing to the body and mind - but people do it every day.  Oaklawn needs help.  I know there is a neighborhood association, and there's a school, and there's a church or two, but somehow I get the feeling that like an ugly boil on your backside, our city leaders would rather not think about it.  I dunno.  I have no answers, only a sudden awareness that in the southeast part of town, families are really struggling.

Late Ramblings

Yep, it's late for me, after 11:00pm.  I'm finding it difficult to unwind and relax so I thought I'd post - in rereading some of my earlier writings, the yawning has already started  :)

The porch renovation is coming along nicely.  The reno team, which includes some unpaid volunteer help is wonderful - however, lest they think they're done, they're going to tackle a new kitchen floor and a repaint in there for me.  That may involve less time but it will be chaotic inside where I live.  I don't do well with chaos, but many times, it's unavoidable in order to reach a goal.

Health issues are looming large for me these days.  They are complicated and frustrating, and I'm not a very patient patient.  My family physician has been my health care provider for 35 years now and knows me well - and knows that I am struggling.  He's taken good care of me all these years and I know he knows what he's doing, but...  it's hard for me to continue to follow the regimen when results are not what we were expecting.

This next week I'm meeting with a nutritionist who I'm hoping will help.  She talked about 103 miles a minute on the phone, so she may be too high energy for me but we'll see.  I've also started back to the Y, and, I'm keeping track of these small steps on my goal sheet.  On August 12, I want to see what I've accomplished.

Life These Days

Good morning.  I've now completed my 9th year working as a school psychologist.  School is out and I've spent the last week decompressing and getting my "summer vacation legs" underneath me.  Because I tend to procrastinate, and because I tend to want to be lazy, and because I need a visual reminder, I have set some goals for summer and am documenting each step I complete so that I can note progress made.  This "progress" is sometimes noted as incremental tiny steps, so this documentation helps me see that hopefully, it really will make a difference.  There are seven major things I want to accomplish during this two months that I'm off so I'm hoping this chart will help.

However, even on summer "vacation", there are students I think about almost every day.  I wonder how life is for them, and if they are safe at home.  As a mandated reporter, I've had my share of calls to DCF (and I'm not going to rant about those issues here), and those kids always are in my heart.  I wish I knew (or maybe I don't) how they are.  Other students I think about bring happy memories - the one second grader who told me he wanted to be a chemist when he grew up - and proceeded to instruct me on protons, neutrons, and electrons.  The little girl who drew me a picture and wrote on it:  "To Mrs. XXXX - the best teacher I ever had!"  The precocious first grader with her hair piled up on top of her head who took my hand as we walked down the hall.  The student from another country just learning English who tried tried tried so hard to get it right.  A 5th grader leaving my school this year who I've watched carefully since 2nd grade- he now is struggling with lots of issues.  O God, bless them and keep them!

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Today is cool and cloudy, not quite what you might expect in Kansas on June 1.  The gardens are planted but there's been lots and lots of rain (the second wettest May on record just happened) so some things are not thriving as they should, however, lest anyone think I'm complaining, this rain has been an answer to prayer as far as the drought goes.  It's made a big difference.

We're getting ready to tackle two more remodeling projects - thanks to my very talented sister-in-law - we will be redoing our porch and putting new flooring in and painting our kitchen.   Our old house is a challenge, but there are things about it that we like.  I think we'll probably stay here until we can't stay here anymore, then we'll pass it on to our kids and it will be their problem  :) ,

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To close -

"When all is said and done, more is said than done."
-Lou Holtz

Friendship Part 2

Hey, it's only been a month since I said I'd write the concluding post about friendship - here I am, what more do you want?  :)  (And I should be working on a report for a student, but I'm putting ALL that aside to write, vent, muse, ponder, etc)

I recently celebrated by 39th wedding anniversary, and I've always, almost since day one, felt like I married my best friend.  But I certainly believe that friendship/relationships with others are important, and I wish I could get a handle on that a bit better.  My spouse is kind of the same way.  He has one person in his life he MIGHT call a buddy, but for some reason, men don't seem to trip over these relationships the way women might.  He doesn't really feel the need for what he might call a "friend".  He, like most men, has categorized his acquaintances into "boxes" - these guys are church guys, this man is a person I work with, this person is someone I talk to on the phone in the course of my job, etc.  His friends are utilitarian.  But a "friend"?  Someone to do things with socially or to "share" (God forbid) with?  Nope.  Not happening for the spouse.

However, on the plus side, I enjoy a friendship relationship with my daughter.  It has evolved over the years and I am grateful.  I am also so thankful for the wives my brothers married - they are "friends" but they are family too.  And my sister - what a special relationship THAT is - I treasure it even though we live many miles apart.  Maybe like the person who thinks he needs something other than what he has, I'm chasing something that I don't really need because, well, I've already got it.  Hmmmm.

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School is winding down for the year.  I cannot count the weeks or even days left because I have too much to do and it would overwhelm me.  I am working one day at a time, trying to meet daily goals and not looking much further ahead than that.  I've also recently started to set some personal daily goals as I manage tasks which need to be done at home.  I'm a procrastinator, and if I can put it off, I will do that in a heartbeat so the daily goals help a lot.  Sometimes the motivation isn't there but I've discovered (as all of you already know, I'm sure) that I can STILL accomplish something even if I'm not "feelin' it".

On this rather dreary, windy, cold April evening at twilight, from south central Kansas, may you find peace, contentment, and joy this day.  Until next time.

Thoughts on Friendship

I've had cause to think about friendships these past few weeks.  It's a tricky thing sometimes, to navigate these relationships because, well, people are people, and, all things are not equal.  People choose relationships for different reasons, and sometimes there's a disparity in the give and take that these friendships require.  When that happens, oftentimes (at least in my experience) the relationship is doomed to fail, which brings about heartache for one or both parties.

I teach a class at church with about, oh, 15-18 women attending.  Some of these women are friends, some are acquaintances.  Some are still looking at me as "the teacher" and are not wanting to become more than that.  That's perfectly ok because frankly, I tend to screw up friendships one way or another.  Job and family life precludes me from having a lot of time to devote to doing "friend" things with people.  And, truth be told, people are wary of being a friend with a psychologist.  They either find me fascinating or intimidating, neither of which is good for a friendship.

Another sometimes deathblow to a developing friendship is if one of the parties confides in and shares more intimately than what the other person is in the relationship for.  This happens to me a lot, that is, people share with me things on a level that I probably don't reciprocate.  I was in a friendship one time where the person accused me of never "giving", that she was always the one who had to "give".  Actually, I thought it was the other way around because she was always the person who was telling me HER problems and asking me for advice that she never took.  Some friendships can be just exhausting!

Currently, I am in a friendship/relationship which as far as I know now, benefits the other person more than it benefits me.  I say this unabashedly because we all know what this is like, we just don't talk about it.  I say "as far as I know now" because as these persons float in and out of your life, you sometimes can see with 20/20 hindsight how the relationship DID benefit you when it was a part of your life but when you're in the throes of it, it's hard to figure that out.

My "friend without benefits" relationship is a difficult trail to climb.  I provide certain things for her, but she does not provide what I need in a friendship, because she can't.  She is my age, yet has lived her whole life without ever learning how to view things from someone else's perspective.  In this "arrangement" we have, it's all about her and what she needs from me - and I gotta tell you, when I understand the terms and abide by them, we get along fine.  When I don't play by her rules then she gets upset, she pouts, and she becomes offended.  I'm sure that as you read this you are asking, why are you in a relationship such as this?

Sometimes it's not about us either.  Sometimes we do it because we just do it, because you just do what you've been called to do.  You love and you try to meet needs, but you must have an understanding of the reciprocation issues in the friendship you are in or these people will cause you grief.  I know that she's mad at me now over something that I didn't do that she thought I should have done for her.  And she'll get maybe get over it.  But in the meantime, I can't lose sleep about it - another person's choices/decisions are theirs alone, as are the consequences.

Next up:  Men and Women's Friendships

This writing on Sundays is getting to be a habit.  Maybe.  Three weeks in a row doesn't a habit make, I'm told, but we'll go with it anyway.

This past week I've been grieving with a friend for the loss of two lives from her family in the course of a few hours of one day.  I haven't been with her physically as she is not accepting visitors right now, but my thoughts and prayers have sure been with her and her family.  I don't know how this translates into comfort for her, but my ardent wish and hope is that the Holy Spirit is wrapping her up in all of our love and care and that she is touched beyond what she could experience on a purely human level - it is Divine Comfort.  There's a hymn that has that term in the first verse:

1. All the way my Savior leads me,
   What have I to ask beside?
   Can I doubt His tender mercy,
   Who through life has been my Guide?
   Heav’nly peace, divinest comfort,
   Here by faith in Him to dwell!
   For I know, whate’er befall me,
   Jesus doeth all things well;
   For I know, whate’er befall me,
   Jesus doeth all things well.

-Fanny Crosby

Sunday Morning

Sundays are busy days for us, so I enjoy beginning with some quiet time (and coffee of course).  I teach a Sunday School class of women and normally, we have about 10 on a good day.  The last three Sundays I've seen a little mini-explosion of attendees and now, we're up to maybe 15-16.  As I prepare to teach the lesson, I am so aware of what a challenge this is.  I explained last Sunday to the group that I expect that one of their responsibilities in this class is to listen to what is taught and make sure that it lines up with truth - truth that is presented from the Word.  If they feel it doesn't, we have a problem and they need to say something to me or to our pastor.  I expect them to listen with a discerning ear and to contribute their thoughts - they don't realize this but I learn far more from them than they will learn from me.  Their discussion of our topics is so valuable - it is true what Proverbs 27:17 says, "As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another."  So, I'm getting to know 6 new women who have all of a sudden decided to come to my room on a Sunday morning.  One is from another class in our church, one is a city bus driver who was invited by a rider, and 4 are from a church across the way who unfortunately, has split.

Always my thought as I present the lesson is, how can I make this relevant?  How is this applicable?  What do I want my listeners to understand?   Many many years ago when the husband was in seminary, he learned to outline and organize his notes for sermons.  To this day, he begins his outline with the same statement (and up to just a few years ago, he hand wrote it):  "I want my hearers to...."

This is applicable not only in a sermon/Sunday School class, but don't you think it's applicable whenever we need to communicate information to people?  In my job I meet with parents and attempt to communicate information to them about their son or daughter.  Always I try to keep in mind while I'm talking to them that they know their child better than I do, that most parents want to do the right thing for their child, and, parents always have the choice in any matter regarding their child.  I want my hearers (the parents) to know that these values are a part of my practice as a school psychologist.

Lastly - the very best skill to develop is the art of listening.  I want to really listen to parents as they talk to me about their concerns.  Many times it involves drawing them out because they don't really trust me - they think I don't really know their kid - and not only that, they come with preconceived notions about things.

Listening and communicating clearly.  Such an art form.  And so sadly needed in this world.

Good Morning

It's a cold cold January day.  We've had some snow on top of freezing mist early this morning and now people are skating to work, sliding off of entrance ramps and knocking into each other.  I'm going to hang back and wait for everyone else to get to work, then I'll go.  I'm sitting here at my little dining table drinking coffee and watching the sunrise - the colors are amazing.  I should mention that I can only see just a little square of it through the school buildings across the street, but that's ok.  When you live in the middle of a city, you enjoy even small views of the majestic colors God uses to paint us sunrises and sunsets.

When I was younger, three wishes wouldn't have been enough for me to change everything about my life that I didn't like, but now I'm here to tell you that it's true that age is a great modifier of thought and attitude.  I continue to live with certain things in life that I wish could be different, but now it's not an all consuming desire, it's more of an "it is what it is" thing (although that's one of the sayings I hate most).  I think it's that you begin to figure out what's important, and, you begin to let the truth of Paul's writings in Philippians sink in.

"...for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. 12 I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want."  Philippians 4:10-12 

I have much to be grateful for.  My old house has lots of problems, but it envelopes me with years of wonderful memories of family and friends, sitting in my too small dining room cramped for space.   Laughter and bonding over board games and winter soup - these memories are priceless.  My spouse and I, playing canasta and drinking hot tea at this table, my grandson eating french fries just last night as he sat in his booster seat - how blessed I am!

"Can we all just get along?"

     You may remember Rodney King, the man who was beaten by LA police officers back in  March of 1991.  The title of this post was a question he asked during the riots in LA that followed the court verdicts handed down to the police officers involved (all were acquitted).   This is not a post about race relations or an expose on the verdicts of an incident which happened more than 20 years ago.  It's a post about an experience I had "getting along" with someone in a situation where conflict could have easily been the outcome.  

     I evaluated a student whose family background is extremely diverse from my own in almost every way.  When preparing for the meeting with the parent of this student, the evidence of a particular special education exceptionality was very evident from the testing I had completed, and as I practiced my oral report, I sewed it up quite neatly, I thought.  I gave pertinent information but not too much, and reached a conclusion and that was that.

     My team teases me occasionally, that I'm sort of the "Nazi control freak" where it comes to where people sit in meetings.  I don't really care where most people sit, however, I always insist that I sit by the parent(s).  It's easier for me to show them graphs I've prepared, and it's easier for me to just visit with them about their student instead of giving a clinical report.  So at this particular meeting, I sat beside a mom whose life was one big struggle after another.  Before I met her, it was somewhat easy for me to be critical of the decisions that she made in parenting her children, but you know, sitting beside her, and looking her in the eye as we talked about her student helped me drop all the prejudices that I don't like admitting I have.  I began to view her as someone who simply was trying to survive in a gravely difficult environment and make the best decisions she could for her family - and no, it wasn't what I probably would have decided, but who knows?  I've not been in her situation.

     As we made eye contact and I shared with her about her student, she listened and she asked questions.  Her eyes filled with tears at times, and when I got to the point in the report where I discuss our recommendations, something happened.  Suddenly, the ramifications of the news I was delivering became real as I shared them with this real mom about her real student - and I felt the tears leaking out of my own eyes as my heart was overcome by compassion.  I apologized and forward we went with all the paperwork.  At the end of the meeting when we stood up to prepare to leave, I extended my hand to thank her for coming.  She looked at my hand and brushed it away.  Instead, she took a step forward and expressed her appreciation for what we had shared by giving me a big two armed hug.  Two women, standing in a meeting, as opposite as you can get in almost every way came together in a common purpose and there wasn't a dry eye to be seen.

     "Can we all just get along?" is a plea from a man who found himself thrust in the national spotlight by suffering a beating at the hands of law enforcement, but it's also something that we should strive for every single day.  It's difficult to accomplish that when people do not turn loose of old wounds, old hurts, prejudices, judgments and preconceived ideas.  But I'm here to tell you that it's not impossible.  And the results of seeing people as they really are is life changing.  If I haven't said it recently, I'm so thankful for my job.  What an opportunity for growth I have - I learn more than I'll ever teach.  My challenge for you this week - try to see people as they are, try to not let old notions cause you to judge unfairly, and be available for what God might want you to do in ministry in someone's life - even a 5 minute encounter can be an opportunity for you to stretch your thinking.    

Let's Just Calm Down

     I just got done reading a Facebook post from someone commenting about the school her child attends needing confirmation of a dentist appointment when her child missed part of a day.  The post went on to rant that students are no longer allowed to go to the office and call home when they need something, and also when this mom brought something to her school for her child, her child wasn't allowed to come up to the office from class and get it.  The federal government was blamed for these policies as well as "Obama".  She was angry and getting angrier about her "rights as a parent" being violated and schools becoming intrusive into her and her child's privacy.  She made the point that if she wants to come up and get her kid from school anytime for any reason she should be allowed to do that without 1.  telling the school why and 2.  it counting as a truancy on her student's record.

    Well.  As part of the "evil" public school domain, my answer to her would be that if she's so dissatisfied with these policies, she is always free to withdraw her child and enroll in a parochial school (who also have the same policies) or homeschool her child.  Yes, we have these policies in place and for good reasons.  In my building with 653 children, I cannot imagine what it would be like if children were allowed to go to the office and call home for non-emergency reasons.  And no, your child's instructional time is so very valuable to them (and we hope to you) that we do not want him/her to lose even 10 minutes to walk to the office to get a sweater that you brought them because it suddenly turned cold.  We do take truancy seriously and we are sorry that this affects parents whose children are NOT truant, but believe me, if this issue comes up, you would want the school to provide documentation of why your child wasn't there.  

     We do not intend to be "intrusive" with our policies but we do value the classroom time your child has in our building.  We do take care of your kids and believe it or not, most kids want to come to school - they enjoy learning and they like this structure in their day.  I have seen with my own eyes in some situations children who become almost morosely depressed on Fridays, and if you doubt that they don't want to come back on Mondays - stand at any school entrance on Monday and watch them come in.  

     So you do your job as a parent, and by the way, that includes not griping about our new ID scan policies in Wichita Public Schools and every locked door except the front one.  You DO want us to know who is in our building, don't you?  You DO want us to keep careful control of who we have around your children, don't you?  If you'll let us do that, we can work to provide a healthy fun atmosphere for learning and believe me, there's no greater joy for an educator.  There should be no greater joy for a parent to know that their child is learning, is enjoying school, is making friends, and is in a safe environment while doing so.  

Writer's Block

     So I'm getting nagged to do a post - okay okay!  I looked back at my previous years of posts and my goodness, I've covered a variety of topics on here.  Some posts are not worth the computer screen they're written on, others are much better.  But nevertheless, writing must continue in some form or fashion.  I'm still toying with the idea of writing a book someday.  I do realize my 60th birthday is approaching, but hey - a lot of older people have accomplished much after 60.
     My 60th birthday.  I can't believe it.  On the inside I feel like I should be about 30.  Maybe 40.  But 60?  I remember when my mother turned 50 (I was 10) and then again when she turned 60.  It seemed like she was "old" - now look at me!  I'm "old"!
     So anyway, tomorrow starts the 5th week of school.  Already!  I am busy busy busy - lots of issues at my base building causing lots of work for me.  No day is ever the same when you're a school psychologist - and flexibility is the name of the game.
     I love fall and finally we are having some cooler weather.  Ready for pumpkins, hot cider, hoodies, and colored leaves.  Snow - now that's another issue.  There's a whole round of stuff on Facebook about how we will get more than normal snow this year.  Then somebody posted the weather forecast from the Farmer's Almanac which said we would get less snow.  Really?  What does it matter - what comes comes.  I'm getting ready to experience my 60th winter and I don't believe I have ever been able to have anything to do with controlling the amount of snow we either get or don't.
     Writer's block - that's me.  I just sit down here and see what comes out - most of the time it's drivel.  But it's thankful drivel!  So grateful for my family, my job, my home, my spouse - so thankful for the opportunity to worship as I choose, so glad to be able to enjoy the company of family and friends.  I'm singing the Messiah again - I believe this is the 4th year I've done this.  Loved it every season and am so glad I have the chance to take part in this community choir.  I'm especially blessed to see my son participating - it will be a great experience for him.
     Until later-

Perfection

As I alluded to in my last blog post, a common "curse" of being a musician is the expectation that everything you play must be perfect, and anything less is a failing - and failings are many.  Fingers that don't land on the right keys - that's a big deal for a pianist.  Singers who hit wrong notes and sing wrong words - again, a failing.  When we go to an event or tune in to the Super Bowl though, don't we expect the singer to perform The Star Spangled Banner perfectly?  When they don't - our instant videos and communication with millions of people are quick to point out errors.  Just as likely, when it is well done - these performances remain YouTube classics (I am reminded of Whitney Houston's version of The Star Spangled Banner at the Super Bowl in 1991.  I just went back and listened to it again, and I will not fail to be moved by that soaring beautiful voice.)

The respect afforded a conductor such as Leonard Bernstein, or composers such as Aaron Copland is great - and to deliver a classically perfect performance is always the goal - and it is delivered most of the time to audiences who enthusiastically applaud.  At last year's performance of Handel's Messiah by the Wichita Chorale Society, one particular part of that great work was attempted by the choir, and miserably performed.  Those tenors just took off like a team of wild horses and you should have seen our maestro's face - he went from concern, to greatly concerned, to alarmed, to terrified, to resignation, then, as he delivered the final cutoff, a hint of a smile and a shake of the head as if to say, "Well, there ya go.  It is what it is."  But we survived, and I venture to say not many in the audience caught on.  However, we all knew.  That's the catch.

When I am thanked for an offertory, I now am able to graciously accept those thanks and move on.  Not so much in the past.  I would often reiterate missed notes or comment how I didn't play my best (which was often true).  But really - it dawned on me that thanks were given for a musical expression which allowed for worship, not for a perfect performance.

I'm not saying to not try your best, and to not practice, and to not prepare.  But I am saying, a missed note is a missed note is a missed note.  I had several today in playing the hymns for church and in playing the offertory.  And I always will.  But a part of me as a musician will always want to offer up the best I have for the Author and Creator of all things musical.

Psalm 103, which we studied in Sunday School is a wonderful psalm- read it if you haven't recently. My favorite verses from that psalm are 13 and 14 - "As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for He knows how we are formed, He remembers that we are dust."   He knows how we are formed.  Think about that.  God understands that we can only offer the best we have, as imperfect as it is.

And so I go to a family reunion, and reunite with brothers and a sister who are gifted musicians.  And I offer my little gift of two Chopin pieces - as imperfect as I will play them, but I hope that they will bring something to the listeners.  Maybe an appreciation for Chopin?  In the 3 minutes I will play, I hope among the missed notes that a love for my family will flow and they will know how valuable they are to me.

Musical Notes

So today at breakfast, the spouse was discussing my somewhat unique family history in regard to music. All of us siblings played a musical instrument and we all took piano lessons, a true financial feat for our parents to accomplish considering that we were not a well-off farm family.  We didn't go hungry but we didn't have money for extras - however, in my parents' viewpoint, a musical education wasn't an "extra".  It was required, thus, my siblings and I are all musicians with varying degrees of skill and talent.

I am so thankful for this musical heritage.  It instilled in me a love of all kinds of music, from classical to jazz to rock, and, we attempted to pass this love and appreciation of all things musical to our children.

For myself, I enjoy playing the piano at church, but also, at home, I practice on my full-sized keyboard. One of the most favorite things I do for relaxation is play through a book of moderately skilled arrangements of Chopin's short works - preludes, mazurkas, and waltzes.  I'm also working on a piece called "Solace" by Scott Joplin - a slow-time rag featured in many movies - if you heard it, you'd know it.  I hope to play a couple of the short one page Chopin compositions for the talent night at the upcoming family reunion.  To play for my accomplished musical siblings is a big deal for me - they will know every misplaced note and every flub.  BUT, it's not about the mistakes for me.  It's about sharing something I think is beautiful with people I love, whether I play it perfectly or not.  More about that in the next blog post.

I told my spouse today that even at 61, I would almost give my left foot (because I pedal with my right) to be able to transpose as quickly and easily as musicians do.  It's a math skill - and I definitely am not math brained - whereas people like my youngest son can almost visualize the transposed notes before him on a staff and know instinctively what chord structures are needed.  If I transpose even the simplest of melodies at church, I write down chords because I cannot do it successfully without written text.  You know, my better half always has a way of bringing me to reality.  He said, at least you can HEAR the music you are creating.  Beethoven did not have that luxury, yet his genius allowed him to compose masterpieces which we appreciate today.

He's right.  I thought about Beethoven today - about the extraordinary genius which allowed him to hear full orchestral scores in his head and write those notes for instruments and chorus.  Imagine the 9th Symphony - perhaps the greatest piece ever composed, and the soaring melody of Ode to Joy, sung by choir and accompanied by orchestra - imagine that he never heard one note of this masterpiece.  Here on earth.  But I like to think that when he walked through heaven's gates, this music played by the heavenly orchestra and sung by the choir swirled around him and greeted him - in its most pure and perfect form, and for the first time, he heard it through perfect ears!  For him, it was truly an Ode to Joy!

Gardening

Hi all.  What a lovely day for an infrequent blog post!

Since school's been out, my days are spent outside in the yard.  Almost every morning I'm out there raking, pruning, weeding, and the hundred other things that one does when one enjoys this type of thing. Despite my efforts, however, the vegetable garden is not doing the best.  Early on, I battled (and this is no exaggeration) thousands of elm tree seedlings which sprang up overnight in almost every square inch of my flower and vegetable gardens.  I have pulled out them out by hand and still do not have them all.

Asparagus was a bust this year.  What little grew, I ate, and most of it right out there in the garden.  The green beans came up, but some sort of insect devoured the leaves and left stems.  I pulled them out.  The beets didn't come up very well, I have 5 beet plants.  The garden table my brother made for me which was supposed to support early veggies like lettuce and spinach - hardly anything came up and what did was stunted and shriveled.  I'm treating the tomatoes for fungus and the cucumbers for an insect infestation which has damaged lots of leaves.

My zucchini plant has all male flowers, so no zucchinis from it.  From the internet which is *never* confusing, I learned that:  It's because the soil is too dry.  It's because the soil is too wet.   It's because there's not enough sun.  It's because the plant always produces males first, then females.  Who knows.

On the upside - I have tiny yellow summer squash.  Strawberries continue to produce, enough for me to eat some every day.  The watermelon plants are doing ok, and I found a tiny tiny watermelon on one vine.  I have enjoyed several grape tomatoes, and the pepper plants have produced.  Early in the spring, the peas did pretty well.  Potato plants did well and I'm getting ready to dig the rest of them up.  The container corn is getting ready to stalk.  One set of cucumber plants are flowering mightily.

The flower bed is looking pretty good.  A volunteer mammoth sunflower came up and it is as tall as me now.  My Peace Rose is steadily blooming.  The shasta daisies are looking well, as are the other perennial daisies I planted.

I told someone the other day that I don't garden because it saves money.  On the contrary, it costs me lots of time, energy, some cash, and frustration.  But on the other hand, if I want to grow tomatoes and stand out in the yard and eat them right off the stalk, or sit in the yard swing and eat the strawberries I've just picked, or shell a pea pod and consume those 5 peas raw right out of the shell - I'd almost rather do that than anything in the world.

And here's how I know it's something I don't want to live without:  I'm planning for next year.  I'm going to plant a blackberry bramble along the fence and I'm going to try two rows of regular sized corn and see what happens.  Also, I'm going to keep the second bale of straw that Jay brings over for me!

My puny little garden is not a showstopper, but it's mine and I derive great joy from the work and sweat it takes.  My working gardening clothes are a white t shirt and a pair of shorts and I've got my hair pulled up in a ponytail - but who cares?  A little dirt under the fingernails never hurt anyone.

The big joy was having my grandson discover a ripe strawberry growing there just for him!  As he looked at me with one strawberry in each hand and juice running down his chin, this grandma was filled with a deep sense of peace and gratitude.  The garden makes the world right, one fruit at a time.

Sunday Evening II

It turned cold!  The front came through with wind and rain and dropped the temperature about 25 degrees.  It's supposed to freeze tonight and tomorrow night - how are gardens supposed to grow?  Brought the hollyhock in that I bought, as well as some strawberry plants my daughter gave me.

Looking so forward to this week being over.  I have several meetings and lots of testing to get done.  Lots of kids to see, lots of reports to write.  Many educators are looking forward to the end of the school year, but I'm not there yet.  I can only do one day at a time.

Yes, one day at time.  Sometimes, it's one hour at a time but you just do the best you can.  Will write more this week.  Take care all.

Sunday Evening

Word for the Day:

UNGULIGRADE  a.  Walking on hoofs.  As a horse or cow.  "Great shoes darling!  Love the extra height those platforms give you!  Now you are truly unguligrade!"

From The Superior Person's Third book of Well-Bred Words, by Peter Bowler.