Category: Uncategorized

About May

May 26th, 2020
Guys…the month of May is ALMOST over. Earlier this month, I was on the phone with a friend and I realized that June was creeping closer and closer. And I turn 30 in June. And I freaked out for a minute (or five).

But now I’m fine. I think.

The truth is that this month (season?) has been so bananas that I haven’t really stopped to consider what I’m feeling or how I’m doing. The shortest of answers would be, “I’m just so stinking happy right now!”

And that’s true. Because in May, I…
- Went back to work with kiddos actually in my physical presence…not just on Zoom. BUT, we’re existing under all of these new guidelines surrounding masks and sanitizing and cleaning and sharing spaces. At the end of the day though, when a kid wants to sit on top of me and listen to a story, I’m going to let it happen. And if I have to make up countless stories about weird woodland creatures that each have their own distinct voice, by golly I’ll do it!
- Got a cat! Sylvan Blue is an absolute dream…who will not let me dream from 11-11:30 pm, 3-3:30 am, or 5-5:30 am. That’s when he has his super-active nighttime adventures. We’ve discussed this a lot an have yet to come to a solution. The more time I let him spend outside, the more amenable he is to keeping is rambunctiousness at a low volume. It’s a work in progress. I just drink more coffee. And he helps me clean the kitchen.
- Clambered around on real rocks! I found an “outdoor adventure friend,” and she’s psyched about climbing and hiking. We started by crawling up rocks on the side of the building, but we’ve advanced to actual rocks…because there are plenty of those around! And I have ordered a bouldering pad to support more and more future adventures. Oh – and the hammock. The hammock is also an essential part of the adventures.
- Foraged! There are plenty of wild edibles hiding in the woods during this time of year. The trick is finding them. No one really wants to give away their secret spot for harvesting ramps, morels or fiddleheads. I managed to stumble across some ramps on a hike one day (they were the highlight of the hike) and played with them over the next week or so. There’s something pretty magical about ethically plucking something out of the Earth and tossing it in your next batch of biscuits.
- Cut my hair. I hate getting my hair cut. It’s uncomfortable and awkward and I avoid it as much as possible. Add a pandemic/lock-down on top of that and we were getting desperate (“we” – my scraggly hairs and I). So, I trimmed the ends. Two weeks later I finally let it down again and realized that there were some stragglers, so I evened it up. I think we’re in a good place now.
With all of that being said…I can’t help but celebrate the past month. It’s been a doozy…and life will continue to throw curve balls. But I’m just going to keep celebrating the little bits of beauty and joy and hold on for the ride.
Mahhhhhm

May 10th, 2020

My mom cooks and bakes quite a bit (I come by it honestly). When I was a kid, she was constantly whipping up something new, always tracking down the strangest new recipes to try (it’s genetic). More often than not, we were all pleasantly surprised by the turnout. But while she was engaged in whatever sort of process was required to get to that finished product, I refused to be left out of the fun.

So she would give me a little bowl and spoon, then let me go crazy. My little bowl would end up as a weird mixture of flour, water, maybe some oil and whatever spices smelled good. Or…all of the spices. I was allowed to explore all of the options in the pantry, the spice drawer and the fridge. And I’m quite sure that I never produced anything edible.

But that wasn’t the point.

The point was that I had the freedom to explore. And the freedom to fail. And the freedom to get creative when something appeared to be a complete flop! (Like my attempt at hot water pastry.)

Over the past year, I’ve done a bit more exploring. She hasn’t been a fan of that. More than once, I’ve gotten an earful for not communicating enough or for telling her about something crazy after-the-fact. But I constantly remind her that she raised me well, she taught me how to think for myself, and she gave me space to learn from my mistakes.

Happy Mother’s Day to the one who talks me through crust that falls apart, reminds me when it’s time to reset my clock, and tells me that it’s okay to love!
Happy & safe

April 25th, 2020
I’ve lived in Vermont for 109 days. There have been some pretty exciting days going on adventures with kiddos or braving snowy trails on my own. I’ve done a lot of baking and tried some new beers. But at the end of each day, I always come back to the same spot.

A tiny room in a house owned by an alcoholic narcissist (his words…which I will affirm). It’s been an interesting journey, to say the least. I never knew when I might:
- Come home from work to a kitchen that’s exploded into a full-blown turkey dinner (in February)…and then wake up the next morning to find the explosion still full-blown,
- Argue about a woman’s right to refuse to pick up a dude for a first date when they just met via Bumble,
- Be reprimanded for setting boundaries,
- Walk into a literal sausage-making party…and find remnants of said party the next morning,
- Worry that the chick who works at the gas station is going to show up at the house for a “pandemic-induced-hook-up” with the roommate,
- Be subjected to raps that “should have been recorded because we would’ve made bank. We could be in Tahiti now!”
- Wake up at 2 am to the smoke detector going off because someone decided to smoke pot in their bedroom
- Listen to the most bizarre noises from a human being at all times of the day (and that’s saying a lot because I work with kids)
- Try to fall asleep to the sound of a vacuum
- Have my “dinner making” interrupted by someone who suddenly needs to sweep the kitchen
- Sit down to sip my morning coffee, only to be interrupted by a roommate who HAS to tell me about his dream last night…when we kissed
- Wake up to find a pair of women’s boots and a purse by the front door and a car partially blocking the driveway
- Be interrupted in my dinner process by a roommate who rolls in and tells me that he spent the past 24 hours in detox
- Store grain alcohol in my bedroom because my roommate doesn’t trust himself with it (but he just uses to make pot gummies)
- Live with someone whose normal “walking feet” sound like an entire herd of wild elephants
Like I said – it’s been interesting.

But rarely happy. And probably not always safe.

So, I’ve found ways to escape…especially since the “stay at home” orders went into place. I used the guinea pigs in our classroom as an excuse to work from school. After I got groceries, I sat in the parking lot reading. I walked up and down every street in this tiny town. And I ran (once the temperatures and snow felt less threatening).

Almost every time that I ran, I took a picture of this bridge. When “home” felt unstable, this route and this bridge never failed to make me feel secure. I slid on the ice. I watched the snow melt. I splashed through the mud puddles. I waited for the grass to grow and the sky to turn blue. And today was the last time.

Tomorrow, I move.

I move to a space that makes me feel happy and safe. And right now, I don’t need much more than that.

(And a kitchen.)
It was today…

April 16th, 2020

April 15th. Vermont’s “stay at home” order was slated to end today. (Before that, the school closure order was scheduled to end on April 6th.) But five days ago, it was extended to May 15th.

I was just flipping through our school planner and dreaming about all the learning that was suppose to happen. We were going to get into gardening for G week and start keeping field journals during J week. This week was suppose to be K week. We hadn’t really fleshed out many plans for this week. My notes just say, “kites & wind, kiwis.” We could have tested different materials and methods for making kites, found the best spot on our school grounds, had flying contests, worked on our collaboration skills. And then, we would have eaten kiwi for snack.

And next week we would have talked about ways that we love the earth…L-week plus Earth Day.

But instead of doing those things, I’m reading about early childhood education and completing professional development and making videos where I read to guinea pigs. As amusing as all of that sounds, I’d rather be making kites and eating kiwis.

Tomorrow, I might make a kite just for the fun of it. I’ll pretend that it’s warmer than my Weather App says and I’ll sit outside to read about outdoor education. I’ll refresh my sourdough starter and prep it for a new adventure. I might have a FaceTime beer with friends.

And then the next day will resemble that…and so will the day after that and the day after that.

Eventually, things will change. It will be so warm that I don’t have to pretend it’s warm. I will share the excess of baked goods with random strangers. I can have a face-to-face beer. Preschoolers will make kites and they’ll garden and they’ll tell me stories about dragons and mice and time machines. They will be geniuses at hand-washing and we’ll go back to giving one another high-fives, playing “beauty shop” with my hair and forgetting to put the books back in the rack so that the spine faces the wall.

Until then? We take it a day at a time.
Have grace

April 8th, 2020

No one really knows what they’re doing right now. Rules and expectations have gone out the window as we try to adjust to this new “normal” where nothing seems stable and there isn’t a clear end in sight. In situations like this, my classic response is control. I want to pull all of the pieces together and create an immovable structure that will stand up against everything that is constantly in flux.

But I forgot to eat dinner the other night. And there have been days when I didn’t really eat lunch. I doubled up on my coffee consumption several days this week.

I stared at a computer for a solid 10 hours on Friday…and most of the days before that. Most of that has been for work because if I stop working, then I have to find somewhere else to focus my brain. Besides the way the world is coming to an end.

I’ve cried at more stupid TV shows than I care to admit. And I’ve watched more stupid TV shows than I care to admit. And don’t even get me started on the stupid block game I keep playing on my phone.

And I said that I would run every other day, but after sliding halfway down a surprisingly snowy/slushy mountain on Saturday, my body completely rejected that as an option on Sunday. I have a very impressive bruise if you need proof.

It feels like I’m completely failing at this. At self-isolation. At productivity. At taking care of myself. At taking care of others. At following rules. At knowing what’s best.

But here’s the thing – there isn’t a “best” or a “worst” way to do this. We haven’t been here before and I’ve never tried to live this life. Waking up and trying again each and every day should count for something.

So instead of beating myself up for not doing all of the things on my million checklists, I’m choosing to have grace. I am allowed to curl up in bed and watch stupid TV shows all morning and then eat a pint of ice cream for dinner. I am allowed to try to read five books at the same time and try a dozen different sourdough recipes in one week. I am allowed to put some goals on the back-burner and focus on developing skills in other areas. And I am also allowed to just take a deep breath and remind myself that I don’t have to wash my hair every day…or every week (sorry, Aunt Sara).

And this goes beyond me! The world is crazy…and we all deserve a little grace right now.

Those folks who turned around 1/4 mile from the top of the trail because they got sketched out by the ice. It’s not necessarily that they didn’t plan or prepare…they’re trying to make the best of life circumstances. And we can laugh about that together

The parent of a preschooler who sends a dozen emails because they’ve forgotten how to parent?? They didn’t forget how to parent. They just want their kid to have fun and be healthy…and in the current situation, that seems too big and impossible and they feel alone in that goal.

The new guy who just moved into the house and has to quarantine for two weeks because he moved from out of state. And every time I go downstairs to cook something, he sits there and talks to me the entire time. It’s my nightmare, but I can let the conversation go for a little while…giving him some much-needed human contact.

And then there’s the cat that views me as a personal pincushion/pillow and refuses to let me work alone. I’m not really sure how he fits in to all of this…

The point is…grace. We all need it and we can all share it because none of us will get all of this completely right. We can learn together.
Things that made me smile

March 31st, 2020

Life is wild and crazy right now. Okay, maybe not “wild.” But definitely crazy. It’s so easy to get wrapped up in the bad. Every day I spend about fifteen minutes going down a rabbit hole, reading all of the worst articles about current circumstances…probably more than fifteen minutes.

Definitely more than fifteen minutes.

So to combat that, I try to smile at something every day. For several years, I’ve kept a “joy journal.” I write down one thing that bring some joy every day. But these days, I think it’s good to notice more than one thing.

I know what you’re thinking – “The world is going to hell in a hand-basket. There is no joy left in the world!!!” Stop. Don’t think like that. You can share some of my joys.

(1) This is Mars. He is not my cat. He belongs to my roommate. But Mars is a big fan of “working from home.” And he likes “the pets.” All. Of. The. Pets. And no – he’s not very helpful.

(2) Over the weekend, we had a gorgeous day – sunny & warm. The kind of day that makes you think it’s spring. I did some yoga on the deck…with minor assist from Mars. I don’t really watch myself do yoga. But since I had the opportunity to observe my form from a different perspective, I went with it. Watching the video back, though, I mostly just observed my weird faces. And that hair (yikes!).

(3) Sloths socks.

What more can be said?

(Oh yeah – and mud splashes on my pants. Because it’s mud season.)
Hope & calm

March 25th, 2020

Life has changed. (And not just because it snowed 4-6 inches last night…just as everything’s clearing out.)

The Vermont governor just issued a “shelter in place” order that lasts till April 15th (weird date, but he didn’t ask me).

…even beyond that though, life will continue to be different.

Economically. Socially. Physically.

But I’m choosing to act from a place of hope.

I want to be moved and motivated by hope…instead of fear.

So I put a deposit down on a new apartment and set a move-in date for April 25. I’m brainstorming where I want to hike to celebrate my birthday in June (30 miles in one day…I’m still just in the brainstorming phase…). I made a reading list longer than my arm (and I have abnormally long arms). And I’m planning letter of the week activities from now to the end of time (because I’m employed for the moment…and when all is said and done, kids still get excited about letters and I’m here for that!).

Don’t freak out – I’m thinking through my decisions and being wise in what I do. I’m just not letting the world’s chaos become my own.

Back in the day when I was running after school programs in a Nashville community center (a year ago…that was a year ago…), kids would have their moments. You know the kind. We all have them. When the kid finally slowed down for a breath, I’d rest a hand on their shoulder and ask, “Are you adding calm or are you adding chaos?” They’d notice what was going on around them, consider how their actions affected the situation, and adjust…because we all wanted calm.

That’s what you want too, right? Calm? So as the world seems to be falling into shambles around you, take a breath. Look at the situation…consider how your actions affect the situation…and adjust.

Move forward with hope and calm. It’s better than hoarding toilet paper.
Growth

March 15th, 2020

It was my junior year of college. I was juggling all of the normal college things from being in career-relevant clubs to teaching Bible studies to going to all of the classes and trying to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up. My people would probably have described me as very “on top of it” and “together” and “academic” and “nice.” I was your basic good person who was really skilled at “doing school.” And then my car was vandalized.

Nothing really changed. But I discovered something about myself.

I could get really angry. I was sitting in the living room with my back against the front door, slightly shaken up. And the commentary that came from my mouth surprised me. In my own backyard, someone had the audacity to walk up and beat on my car…then there was a knock at the door. It was the cops.

Cop: Yeah, so he started up at the hospital and then made his way through campus busting out windows and knocking down mirrors, but we caught up with him.

Me: I hope you tackled him.

Cop: (giving me a slightly concerned look) Uhhh – well, he was hiding behind some bushes.

Me: I hope you violently pulled him out from behind the bushes.

Cop: Uh, yeah. Sure.

I think that was the first time that I wished bodily harm on someone…especially someone that I hadn’t met. And it was all because of my car.

A couple of weeks ago, my car got bumped in the school parking lot (a very icy morning). And that bump caused my car to bump into another car. One of the downstairs teachers came up stairs to pass along the unfortunate news. I shrugged my shoulders, then went downstairs to exchange insurance information with the bump-initiator.

But then I went about my day. At some point, I went out to look at the damage. And again, I just shrugged. I went on with my day – listening to five year olds sing Frozen songs, guiding them on a trek through the woods, encouraging them as they climbed trees, patting their back as they fell asleep for nap-time, watching them slip across an icy playground. A bump to my car is far from the end of the world.

Coronavirus…that might be another thing.
Retaining the wonder

February 24th, 2020

Sometimes, I get bored when I’m hiking.

I feel like I’ve seen all the trees before. I’ve crossed over every stream. I’ve crawled over all the rocks. I’ve felt the exact same burn in my calves and gnawed on the same granola bar (frozen in winter).

So, I make myself stop (…or I give in to the burn in my calves and take a break) and I look for something to inspire wonder.

Chickadees swopping through the highest branches of pine trees.

Scrabbly squirrels chasing each other over the snow and up saplings.

The way the sun reflects off the icy branches ahead on the trail.

Warmth as you come out of tree cover straight into the sunlight.

Tracks from rabbits or deer…or droppings from moose.

Icicles hanging from a rock.

Water that sings as it falls over the edge of cliffs.

Snails.

The first pop of color in the spring…or fall colors that sneak in and catch you off-guard.

I’ve been thinking about how this translates to life off the trail. It’s so easy to fall into habits and routines, forgetting that we constantly encounter people and places that could inspire wonder…if we slow down enough to appreciate it.
Ways we’re broken

February 19th, 2020

For the past several years, my morning commute led me through some of Nashville’s “messiest” neighborhoods. And some of the nicest. As a city, it’s a bit of a patchwork between the nitty-gritty and the gentrified. In the span of two blocks, I would pass $2000/month one-bedroom townhouses and a women’s shelter. I passed restaurants that require reservations months in advance and coffeeshops that charge $5 for a basic drip coffee…and then I would pass corner bodegas with folks smoking outside and taking swigs from paper bags.

With every stop sign I passed, I could taste the brokenness of the city.

These days, I wake up before the sun and drive straight into the mountains just as the pink twinge of the sunrise begins to fade. On my way home, I marvel at the way the snow clings to the trees and try to figure out whether there’s a name for the peaks in the distance (and if I’ve been on them). I listen to the laughter of my students as they roll down a snowy hill or collect materials to build a fairy house or make funny noises just because they can. With a light dusting of snow turning the world into something from my sweetest dreams, it’s hard to believe that anything bad can happen here (besides getting snow in your boots or balaclava).

But there’s brokenness here, too. It’s knowing that kids are born to be a status symbol for their parents. It’s helping five year olds cope when a parent leaves town every other week to ski somewhere else. It’s the shrinking back that happens in someone’s eyes when you tell them you believe in God. It’s watching people avoid their feelings through a haze of marijuana and alcohol. It’s bar fights over girls and cars getting towed. It’s collisions when drivers just can’t find enough patience. It’s a four-year old pushing someone down because they can’t quite figure out how to communicate. And it’s a five year old being told that they’re a “bad boy.”

Brokenness doesn’t pick and choose based on geography or wealth or race. It is real and palpable in so many ways. But the brokenness doesn’t have to break you. There is always a fresh breath of air, a new mountain to climb, and a new day to hug a kiddos who’s feeling a little sad.

The brokenness won’t win…not in Nashville and not in Vermont.