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Not a Burden, but a Blessing. Reflections of 2020…

Something about a year that is both epic, terrible, dreadful, life changing, and memorable to the entire world, yet it became a year of forced reflection for me and so many others. I don’t always see that as a bad thing. I am going to list both for my future self and for anyone who might just need to hear it…My Top 10 Journal Entries for 2020. My brilliant and beautiful friend, Brandi, was photo journaling her girls throughout the quarantine and asked me if I was writing. I was indeed, but when someone asks you this like they expected it from you, you tend to kick up the commitment. So, here are some excerpts from my Captain’s Log – Corona 2020.

I see how we all made both sacrifices and adjustments for each other now that we are doing all of our living from home. I see a compassion for finding spaces that are useful and meaningful. We attended ‘bedside baptist’ today as we have come to know it and Tate prayed for his friends in the foreign exchange programs. It is a burden on his heart. They may not be able to make it home when they had planned. It amazes me what our children will worry about and remember from this time. It is so important to support each other right now.
In February, before the Earth seemed to shift, I started my masters. I didn’t tell anyone. After the Spring Break shutdown, my boys just think I am always doing classwork for my teaching job. It is so much harder in that regard, as I am now attempting to keep 140 students engaged in an online platform they weren’t trained to be a part of, while motivating my own children to stay positive, and actually writing papers for my masters classes. LOL! I have bit off a lot here. Finding refuge in having nowhere to really go. Being home and pouring myself into all of this…oh, and housework…oh, and teaching someone to drive…oh, and I have a senior!
Today was hard. I am not going to lie. Found out that a lady I work with has been dealing with this virus. Her mom has been admitted to St. Francis and it doesn’t look good. It makes me so nervous and scared for her and her family. For all of us. We also found out today that there will more than likely be no school the rest of the year. No prom. No graduation ceremony. No All-State game. No..No..No. It is a rough reality we are facing and yet it seems so selfish to even be upset about it.
It is becoming harder to feel productive and helpful in my own home. My boys are very independent and it can be lonely. Being a widow typically has zero advantages, but based on all of the griping about excessive togetherness and failed marriages during this year I guess I am supposed to count my lucky stars. Oy!
March 25…Randy, my best friend’s dad who has been battling cancer, is coming home today. This is both a good and a bad thing but was made possible by the compassion of the staff and therapists at his care facility. Heroes!!! The end is too near. Tate found out today that his high school season is officially over. He fields so many calls throughout the day and texts from his teammates and friends who are losing it. He hasn’t really had time to lose it himself. Kassidy came over and so I made chocolate chip cookies and banana bread. Comfort foods for kids who don’t really even eat sweets. We will get through it but it is so hard for these kids to feel like they got cheated.
Wyatt and I attended a send off to honor a soldier who had fallen in Iraq. We grabbed breakfast (our first drive thru experience) and waited on the side of 46th street N by the base for him to come by. There were thousands of people. We waited for hours and didn’t care. He gave his life.
Mandi texted me to tell me to come on out to see her dad if we wanted. Corona or no corona. I had a very urgent feeling all day about him. While I was there, his breathing almost stopped. Mandi, her mom, and Kendra gathered around the bed and were begging him to breathe. They hooked some oxygen back up and we physically lifted him up as high as we could in the bed. They asked me to call the hospice nurse back out and someone called Levi to tell him to hurry. Chloe teared up and climbed in my lap, then Savana took her outside. As soon as I knew the nurse was on her way and I checked on Chloe, I told Chris I was going so the driveway would be clear for everyone and they could have their time. I prayed that Levi would make it. I hadn’t been home 20 minutes and she let me know that he was gone. Levi made it and he went peacefully. I am left remembering just how he pushed his kids to be their best, they pushed him and loved him enough to coach him through breathing and waiting for Levi. I have witnessed something today that I will never forget. True Love.
Started distance learning on a Monday, 46 texts to families I hadn’t heard from by Thursday. Being an elective teacher has really proven to seem insignificant during this time, but the students who love creating and bending their minds are keeping me going. I pray that teachers around the world know their worth. This situation is making this very hard. There is a very large number of people who love trying new things, having their students home, and supporting what their teachers are trying to accomplish from afar. Other parents are pulling their kids to other types of online platforms, calling teachers babysitters, criticizing the very lessons we plan because they hear us struggle to keep the entire class’s attention while online. This is a very good time for a facebook/social media break. My intentions are so pure with my students and I am pouring into them the best I know how at this very moment. Loving them where they are. Sending letters to their homes. Calling them. Whatever it takes to say hello, that I love them, and I’m thinking about them.
In the last week, I have repaired a toilet seat, shower head, and planted a few flowers. We are having a step challenge with the 6th grade teachers and I have walked well over 100,000+ steps in two weeks time. Waving at my new neighbor friends that I have never met until now and that is a result of yelling across the streets to each other while we get our exercise. Wyatt got a new puppy finally. Her name is Annie and she brings a new life around here. Potty training, keeping Willow from treating her like a toy, and watching her grow. She’s a doll and as much as he wanted a dog to sleep with him, she sleeps with me so far. Lol. He wasn’t really into getting up in the middle of the night after all. We took a Covid road trip to Kansas to get her and she’s been worth every bit of the hype so far!
We are coming so close to the anniversary date and I try not to dwell on it, but it is so hard not to. The days leading up to losing Shane were just so normal. Loving life on the little Farley Farm and enjoying Spring there. Getting in a real groove of happy, content life. I just can’t deal sometimes. Then, as if she read my mind, Elo shows up with a card and some distance hugs. She loves my boys and me and I am so grateful for friends who aren’t afraid to acknowledge the hurt. Yesterday, I had my first ORU parent meeting! NUTS! Shane would be flipping out! I loved it.

I only made it to May and my journaling slowed as we entered the end of school craziness. I will never share my journals from the beginning of the Fall semester when we found out we were back online. They mostly consist of trying to find a way to soften parent’s hearts toward our administration for making that choice and some include some not so nice things that were said to me in passing by parents. Words matter, people! Even when we are adults. So many other highlights…Tate was part of an amazing graduation commencement speech, Lane is a licensed driver, my little sister married a beautiful man on the side of a mountain in Arkansas, some epic moms pulled off a prom, my niece is pregnant with her 2nd, Lane tore his ACL and has battled out an epic suck of a year like a champ, Wyatt made the Jr. High golf team after deciding he was just going to go for it, my brother and family moved to Florida, my precious work son had his first child, I am now just a few classes away from having my masters and finally told the boys what the heck I was up to, Tate is living his dream and thriving with a 4.0 his first college semester and gearing up for soccer season number one as a college athlete, we had some amazing visitors when everyone thought it was safe, my nephew married a jewel of a gal, and we still managed to make it to Big Cedar once during this unprecedented time. We have fished, been to the museum as often as safe, hiked, biked, walked, kayaked, golfed, baked, tried new recipes, read amazing books!!! I survived my 20th wedding anniversary without my love and went out of town by myself to see some artwork in person just because I wanted to celebrate. I have a dream team of friends who will pray for the smallest of needs at a moment’s notice and together, we have made it! We have loved each other through it all and will continue to do the same. My prayer is that I never look back at this year like it was in any way a burden, because when I read back over pages of journaling I realized that it was the farthest thing from that. It was a blessing.

High Fives and the Grace of God

2/20/25

There is an entry in this book that talks about our friend who went through an awful divorce. We were in his wedding party, went on their first date with them, and celebrated the birth of their children, birthdays, etc. This man is a friend who has never not been in my life, grew up in my same church, was my brother’s college roommate, and sang gig after gig with my husband. They were the best of friends. He says that his goal was always to create the right platform for Shane’s voice. They got each other and could talk for hours. They each had a respect for what the other brought to the table musically and they made a great team. They even once nearly named their band, ‘No, We’re Not Brothers’ because of how many times they were asked this question.

I decided to take myself to see Lyle Lovett at the Broken Arrow Performing Arts Center in October of 2016, knowing that this would need to be one of those hurdles that I jumped to allow myself to live a little again. I was only gone a few hours. I cried all the way there and off and on throughout the concert. At intermission, I looked around and noticed a lot of the same people who would come to his and Shane’s shows were there, sprinkled in the crowd. A few said hi to me, seeming a little surprised to see me. I wondered if they knew how hard it was to come alone. I walked out to the lobby to find a restroom, and there he was with his father-in-law. I asked about his family and just like people describe how Shane would light up for the opportunity to talk about us, he did the same for his wife and kids. A community of music lovers and it was like God was telling me that everywhere I go, He was covering me with help if I needed it. Friends and encouragers who even with a wave could make me feel like I was in a safe place to listen and remember.

Just two months later, he was loading his kids in the truck in my driveway without the help of his wife. I had just asked his daughter if her mommy was still getting ready at her grandma and grandpas. He had stopped by for our kids to exchange Christmas gifts like we had their whole lives. Fast forward a few weeks later, when his wife called me to tell me she had found her ‘soulmate’ and I would understand her needing to live for today, as tomorrow is never promised. I explained that I didn’t appreciate the comparison of her leaving her sweet husband and me losing mine. She and I haven’t spoken since. He tried everything to get her to reconcile. I prayed for them through this, as did many of our friends. She never came around and he was broken.

For the eight years that followed, we kept checking in with one another. We always had hilarious childhood connections like knowing all of the hymn numbers and the songs that correlated. Wondering where the 3rd verse of said songs went, as our church only sang 1st, 2nd, and last verses for some odd reason. Our spouses weren’t raised in the same church as us and we could joke about the strictness of the church. We are recovering baptists and not afraid to discuss it. Our conversations over the years consisted of making sure the other was functioning as a human and not a zombie. We’ve talked about kids mostly and music, and teased each other about getting ourselves back out there.

He has been a solid friend for me since he came to my house the first time to play music in the early 2000’s. He is one of the most genuine people I know. Honest to the core. He has supported my boys for years and encouraged them. When the boys finally came to grips with the strings needing changed on Shane’s guitar for the first time after his passing, they wanted him to do it. He would be the only choice for the job. We saved them and put them in a shadowbox. One of the last things we knew his hands had touched.

Through the years, concerts would come up and we would run into each other there. Once, we had both taken our kids to a concert an hour from each of our homes and didn’t even know the other was coming. His mom got very sick and I felt horrible being too far away to be of any assistance. I felt like he was taking so much on and still in a fragile state. She passed way too soon. I attended the viewing and my oldest and I attended the funeral. Have you ever attended a funeral and only had your eye on one person there? I was so concerned with only my friend. My heart was breaking all over for him. His mom was a dream. She was perfect. I have visited her grave for years on his behalf since I am closer in proximity to the site.

We had always exchanged gifts for Christmas as well. I once got him a C.S. Lewis live reenactment experience. He got me the nicest pair of headphones that he knew I would never buy myself. While Tate finished his undergrad, he was just a few miles from his house. He became Tate’s Amazon delivery drop to avoid it being lost at school and would occasionally leave him an envelope under the mat for a coffee run on him. He would show up for Tate’s college games, Wyatt’s golf, and whatever else he and the kids could make it to if we were in town. All the while, I would encourage him to put himself on Farmersonly.com or something equally as kitschy, knowing he would be too apprehensive to do so. He is a catch and some girl was missing out!

Last summer, he had offered his home for Wyatt and I to house sit while he was out of town for work and we were in town for a golf tournament. This was a huge blessing! The volume of golf travel is high and the cost gets out of control. When I arrived, I noticed some vintage jars in his room with fresh flowers in them. I immediately had to tease him by taking a picture and sending him a text asking if his housekeepers would leave him fresh flowers. No response, which I wasn’t concerned about because he was in meetings. We had been there a few days and made ourselves right at home. I had put a roast in the crockpot one morning and we were finished with our early round at the course. I was reading a book in the pool and Wyatt had gone to practice. He came back early and I of course was almost embarrassed. I offered for us to get a hotel and he insisted we stay. I then invited him to dinner in his own home. After dinner, Wyatt said he was going to bed because he knew we would ‘talk for 6 hours’. We have always had the best conversations. Nerds by nature and plenty of topics to explore.

That night, he asked me, as he had many times over the years, if I was ready to put myself out there and date again. This has now been nearly a decade for me. A decade of hurt, stress, and lost love. A decade of raising boys and chasing sports, of attempting to keep a household together alone, and of battling all of the depression and anxiety that grief brings. A decade of highs and lows, of waves crashing.

Him: Are you ready?

Me: No, it sounds like too much worry and work. I think I’m good. Why? Are you ready for me to set you up a farmersonly?

Him: No, but what about us?

Me (jaw hitting the floor): Precious MAN, are you asking me out?

Eight months later, we see each other no less than once a week and we are an hour and a half apart. My boys could not be happier. I waited a month to tell them and they all responded almost exactly the same…only he would do. He and I have talked so much about Shane and that he might just be high fiving him about now. I knew it was right when he explained that he had known he wanted to take care of me for a long time. He had prayed, read, and researched how to properly date a widow and he knows I will need space sometimes and the boys will always need support. He cares for me so well.

He makes me feel like a priority and he desires for me to be free from pressure and worry. He loves me for being unapologetically me and wants me to feel protected. Tom Petty describes a kind of freedom that I finally feel in his song Wildflowers.

You belong among the wildflowers

You belong somewhere close to me

Far away from your trouble and worry

You belong somewhere you feel free.

We have a compiled playlist of well over 100 songs that speak to us about each other. I haven’t smiled this much in a decade, and I was honestly so surprised that my butterflies were not dead. He encourages me to do things that make me happy. We enjoy art and cooking, travel, and could sit for hours…maybe days on the patio and talk. We talk about how perfectly timed our relationship has been and how we have always understood each other. One of his friends told me that his core group of friends think he has loved me for a very long time. I am so happy that we both recognize the value we bring to each other’s lives.

I wrote a prayer for our relationship after that very weekend and have prayed it every morning. Sanctify us, Lord, and our first priority is the hearts and raising of our children. He is a wonderful man of God, a breath of fresh air, and a gift. Suddenly losing a spouse often means that conversations were not had about the what ifs. What if I pass? Would you date someone else? Some couples have the difficult opportunity of discussing this during a long illness, but regardless, I did not think it would ever be easy allowing yourself to love again. I used to tease my friends who would ask me about dating that God would have to send a man to my door to knock and say, “The Lord sent me to take you to dinner” in order for me to know it was ok. BUT GOD. I have never understood this phrase like I do today…but God. He redeems our stories for His glory. He provides. He manifests our happiness under His guidance and in His time.

God’s grace surpasses all boundaries. It is good every time. It is freely given and rich when you are poor. It is calm when there is chaos. Grace wins. None of us are perfect but we are perfectly suited and equipped by Christ to care for others. I appreciate my entire network of friends and family for all they have done for my boys and I. For the special care and consideration they have always given and for their attempt to never further upset us. To handle every situation with care.

My journey to hope continues but I can see the outline of a life that has been God breathed and despite the heartache, I will be forever grateful for the opportunity to have seen his glorious miracles and majesty at work.

By the way, those flowers were for me.

My Future Self

Will there be regrets? Instant.

I have been a widow for 8 years and almost 2 months now. We have moved twice and these tubs have moved with us. I remember packing them up when we first decided to move from what would have been our FOREVER home. Where we were going to spoil our grandkids with rides down to the pond, homemade ice cream, fishing, riding horses, petting sheep, collecting eggs, and just anything else we dreamed up for that amazing place. It’s where we would have parked the RV that we were going to travel to bluegrass festivals in when we both retired. It is also where it was too much. Too much to care for on my own with a 13, 10, and 7 year old.

I packed these tubs because I couldn’t say goodbye to these things. The things that had once touched his skin. These things he had sweat in to make a living for his family and create a beautiful life for us. These things he had worn to weddings he didn’t want to go to and parties he was the life of. These pieces of cotton that had once held me tight and rocked our boys to sleep. These swim trunks we had taken to Big Cedar, where he tried stand up paddle boarding to show Tate it was safe. Even the kind of socks he loved, still matched up and ready to go.

As I type this, they are on the curb. Ready for the American Veteran’s to come and rescue. To take them to a place where someone else will love them before they turn into moth speckled, old rags. Did I go back through every piece just now? Yes. Do I have too many things to hang in my closet for ‘just in case’ the boys may want them or I may want to just snuggle up and cry? Yes! We have the most beautiful keepsake quilts and pillows, made by the hands of those who love us…my step-mom and my CC. His jeans are all over my house in different ways. So, why do I want to run out and drag these back into the garage?

Grief just never ends. That is why. I am praying that my boys will know that I felt strong today. I felt like I could let these things go to a new home. They have witnessed me open and close these tubs for years now. I always just say it’s not quite time. I have shed many tears over how to handle my grief, their grief, the grief of his mother and father, my family, and his friends who love him so much. I know in my heart that I can’t fix everyone’s hurts but I sure wish I could. Knowing he would have thrown them out long ago should help me. Knowing he is probably shaking his head every time I am upset. He is probably wishing I would just suck it up already.

My only reason for posting this is that maybe one person will feel normal. Anyone grieving any kind of loss or just feeling lost in this world. I have come to realize that loneliness isn’t just for the broken-hearted. If you are ever feeling overwhelmed and need someone to pray for you or just to talk, please reach out! My friend called me crying and sitting in her closet wondering what she was supposed to do with her husband’s things. I had to tell her that 8 years later, I still do not know the correct answer. We just have to do what is right for ourselves and our family.

I just told a friend last night that the only peace I have truly found in this season of my life has been through watching God work. Miracles on miracles, including giving me the strength to let go of 4 tubs. I want my future self to remember that when she feels down, alone, and defeated…SHE WILL NEVER BE.

Here’s hoping the AMVETS have made it by when I go outside.

Stay

milestone reminders

‘So fast these moments fade’, it’s like Matt Rollings wrote this for me, only I can’t put this song in only one category of where I need it most in my life. Just when I think my tears have all dried, my soul is emotionless, or my mind has numbed to allowing memories to live…I come back to Shane’s playlists. Wyatt has picked up guitar in the last 6 months and these are the songs he gravitates toward. I will sit at the top of the stairs and listen to him practice in his room. I could do this for hours. He and Lane played together the other night and it was maybe my favorite day in a long time.

You see, I am hitting an avalanche of milestones with my boys. Tate turned 21 yesterday, Lane turned 18, Wyatt is entering high school, and Lane is now a senior. Tate is a junior in college for goodness sakes. I know there are days when they need advice straight from dad. These are big moments. I understand this song was originally written as a ballad connecting parent and child. It is the most tender in this sense and could not be more true in every line.

This song also reminds me of the legacy of my husband. Today is his birthday. He would have been 49. FOURTY-NINE. He didn’t have the opportunity to reach that next milestone on earth. Many people react to us differently now and all that I have read on the subject of grief points to this. It’s been 7.5 years, so we should be getting used to it, moving forward, getting over it. ‘I’ll always be the home you come back to in your heart’. You never get over it.

My boys are thriving and what no ones sees are the days when none of us are. They still happen, and it can be true that it’s thankfully not as often. We are still never on the same page on the same day so a rollercoaster ensues for me. I have learned to give myself a break on trying to fix every detail of every emotion and we just try to ride them out together. I will be forever grateful for their willingness to even just text me, ‘Mom, I am struggling today’. They know they are free to struggle and sometimes I can just see it in their eyes ‘telling me what words can’t say’.

So, if you have children, step-children, grandchildren, a love in your life, a lost love, a parent, a hurting friend or neighbor, a sick friend, a best friend, or _______ (fill in the blank where this song can bless your life)…I hope this song hits for you. My friends lost their mother to Alzheimer’s and can picture their dad in this line ‘I will carry you until it’s time to go’. It breaks my heart, but I have learned that sometimes you just need to sit in your broken heart to see how hard it can push you to love deeper.

Who will you carry until it’s time to go?

Matt Rollings is a genius. He knew exactly who would sing this song best. If you are not a current fan, I hope this sheds some inspiration to check him out and all that he has accomplished. He has a servant’s heart for the musicians he accompanies and writes for and that list is long and impressive. This is so inspiring to me.

Happy Birthday Shane! We miss you every minute.

Please Join Me…Prayers for a Flipped Year

I am going to go ahead and say this outloud. I predict a flipped school year in 2021-22. Who will understand what I mean? I hope everyone who has a child, owns a business, attends events, teaches children, coaches a team, runs a restaurant…basically, I hope everyone will see this revolution unfold along with me. I am partly predicting this for my own sanity and because I recently found a list of prayer requests that I had sat on my desk sometime just past the middle of the last school year. This list would not make sense to share and would seem so insignificant to many, but let me just say this…all 3 requests have been granted because God is so dang good!

Near this sticky note, I found another. It’s a thing with me and my aging mind, something my grandmother has always done and I now do. Write nearly everything down. I wrote ‘Reexperience your reference point’. Now, I wish I could remember where I read that first, what podcast I heard that on, or what brilliant person told me to do this?! I found several references to it online but just know I would like to give credit to Dr. Santos at Yale. Y’all, take the online class, read the book, read the author notes when you want to be done because that is where the good stuff lives.

My prediction for the year is something I want to claim now. Pray over it with me, will you? Let’s have an army of prayer warriors after this one!! As a middle school teacher, I have witnessed awkwardness. I know what it looks like and experience it on a daily basis. It is the age. The underdeveloped frontal lobe. The long, detailed story about something truly brilliant and intellectual they watched on youtube and the little video game inspired dance move they do when they walk away from you. The students I meet who have had to grow up too quickly and already don’t know how to relax…all the way to the one who always draws wolves and brings you homemade gifts from their bus stop. The wannabe Kardashian girls and the boy who looks like a surfer even though we live nowhere near a beach. I love them all! Well, this year, they are different.

In all fairness, we are all different. We have been living in the unknown. Shopping online and now that some of us are back in the grocery store, we don’t know how to act. Do we get close enough to hug a friend we just ran into or is that allowed? We are walking around in invisible, unspoken social bubbles that have isolated us for the last year plus and we don’t know what the reentry drill looks like. In the top-notch school where I teach, kids have lost their sense of what is acceptable but haven’t we all? I had to decide about a week ago that I was going to get out of the negative space in my head about it. Despite the TikTok challenges unfolding right before my eyes. Yes, they are true. I have had property stolen right off my shelf behind my desk, a lovely penis made of the pipe cleaners we were using for a project left as a gift for me on someone’s way out of my classroom (we witness a lot of male genitalia drawings but this little blatant gift drop off took…well, balls), we lost multiple soap dispensers in one week, kids don’t seem to have a sense of spatial reasoning in the hallways, disrespect is off the charts, and I could list all of the other infractions but it just starts to sound like we have no control and we have got the best of the best staff and administration. Despite the crazy, there has to be a silver lining.

So here is what the request is. Pray with me and claim this. A flipped year! This springtime behavior we are witnessing is their reentry. The amount of brain development that would have occurred socially during the tightest of shutdown times will hopefully catch up and the maturity and restraint they typically have when school starts will show after Christmas. They will settle in. They will know their worth. They will know we care. They will let go of hostility and animosity from watching the news, hearing so many opinions that have clashed about who is doing things right or wrong in our world and they would just know they are in a safe place with people who love them. That they will feel supported and nurtured in the way school should feel. That we all normalize asking for mental support, asking questions and trusting someone will take you seriously, and accepting that others may not have the same convictions and approaches to coping as you or your family and that is ok.

Revisiting the reference point of all that was wrong when all of this started and realizing that we have had heroes all around us the whole time and still do. People have lost so much love in their lives. Students have had to experience things most adults wouldn’t have been made privy to when they were young. Grandparents have died alone. Adults have lost their jobs. Stability has been rocked. Children have gone without contact with very many adults or other children and some are not in great situations to have been alone for these lengths of time.

If I revisit my reference points for major events in my life, I can always see where growth has occurred. I often see where growth can still happen. Socially, I am behind. I have a wonderful group of friends but I only socialize with a few and not normally anywhere but via text or possibly 2 out of the 5 minutes between classes when I get to visit with my neighbor teacher. We are probably all behind socially right now. I don’t meet new people well. I have a real mic dropper of an introduction, especially when inevitably in some sort of naturally script of conversation written 1,000 years ago, someone asks what my husband does for a living, and people don’t know how to respond so I usually avoid situations where I might meet anyone new.

I am no instagram influencer, and I do not know the latest trends. I just want to start a movement of prayer in our community concerning giving others a break. Loving our kids’ quirks and supporting their needs. Loving our regained freedoms and believing we will continue to see more open up. Not giving up on the squirrliest of students, neighbors, or store clerks. Showing patience with ourselves and others. As teachers, we often feel that we finally start to learn personalities and details about students by Christmas. Let’s use that to our advantage and love them more openly by simply attempting to connect with them. It will pay dividends, and I am thanking God in advance for what I know can happen as the year ends.

Your Dad Would Just Be…

Your dad would just be…rolling his eyes, cracking up, slapping you silly, losing his mind, squeezing your neck, beaming with pride…this is an endless list. The amount of times I have said those words in this last year alone are countless and to some people, even annoying. I had someone tell me just yesterday that they don’t talk about their deceased relative the way we talk about Shane. It is hard not to when these boys are all still young and I am constantly channeling what we would have done together in any given situation, to solve a problem, to encourage, to discipline one of these boys when the times call for it. And, yes, if you are uncomfortable with hearing about my dead spouse…you might just be uncomfortable around me. No apologies for that. So, on what would have been our 21st wedding anniversary, I will break down the last year for my own records and in the hope that it will give someone a reason to smile today or a reason to realize that nothing is too big for God. He has equipped this family with the armor to hit just about anything head on and take what gets thrown our way in stride.

This world has lost its ever-loving mind. The pandemic alone would have had him speechless. Masks, no masks. He would have fought wearing one on occasion but certainly done what needed to be done to work, shop, and do everyday life for his family. He indeed would have been rolling those green eyes at the amount of obstacles a group of people can face in a short period of time, or at the next hurdle that would come our way. It’s been a year for our family. A year of firsts for so many globally and just a full, at times difficult year for us. One of the almost year long, not so glamorous highlights was Lane tearing his ACL in the first official pre-season scrimmage of the year. In his full-length, pegleg brace, pre-MRI reading, pre-surgery, pre-leg bending machine for days on end, we had a neurology appointment that had been scheduled for months. We didn’t dare reschedule, as we had been awaiting any clues on how to manage some persistent migraines that Lane had been dealing with off and on for the past few years that had suddenly become very regular. Our pediatrician is the greatest! Super thorough and considers family history at every turn. We had done sugar testing, ekg and echos, blood pressure monitoring with and without and even during workouts, food journaling, allergy treatment, sinuses recauterized, the kid had been through it. None of these things were pointing in the right direction for any type of solution or cause. They took a look at his brain. It was still there (of course, a bad joke from his brothers and I) and showed no real issues. The neurologist drew a line straight back to his multiple concussions over the past few years. Sitting in this office with LJ, slated to be a varsity starter and breaking records left and right with pre-season lifting, yet about to have at minimum 6 months of rehab for his knee, has just been told he should never play football again.

The months that followed were dark. Could he still play and risk more permanent neurological damage? Yes, but this isn’t an ACL. You only get one brain and believe me when I say that a lot of well meaning people have had a lot of opinions on our decision. The lack of impact alone has improved his daily symptoms and that is enough for me. My friend recently finished a class on sports psychology and has a valid point. That starting in high school, there should be a sports psychologist on hand for students who have such devastating, career ending injuries. If you are a non-sports person reading this, that may sound extreme, but taking away someone’s ‘identity’ as an athlete and something they have loved since the 1st grade is no joke. They have to find themselves again. I am happy to say that I feel like we are finally getting there. The kid did virtual school, I was able to get him back with direct teacher instruction as soon as he was mobile, he fought COVID, quarantine from exposure, missing for physical therapy appointments, trying meds for migraines that backfired emotionally, and working through this loss of self that occurs when you lose a part of what you loved and enjoyed with your dad who is no longer here. Everything comes back to that. Shane would have known what to tell him, what to do, how to choose how far to push himself. Shane would also be proud of how he has handled it and how he has made new plans, new goals, and taken new opportunities in stride. There were bribes/rewards in the form of a new tattoo which was not my idea (Tate’s) but certainly motivated him to keep pushing through the first semester alone, and I know he will continue to break records. He has always been so mature and his calm spirit has gotten me through some rough days. I get so excited to see where God takes Lane and how he will use all he learned about life in this last year. He gets stronger every day, in every sense of the word.

Some other dumb highlights…we ALL had COVID. We were so short on subs when I had it that I would be teaching from home while teachers on their planning times monitored my class in session with me on the screens with the kids. Educators are amazing people. We all made it through by helping each other all year, every step of the way. Nervous about coverage and the state of the world, I then put off a surgery until summer that I should have had over Christmas break, only to drive myself to the ER during a snow day because I was convinced that my insides were falling out. The surgery could be put off no longer and with just a few weeks until Spring break, they scheduled a total hysterectomy. What is sometimes a 6 week recovery was negotiated down to 3 as long as I behaved. I needed to be with my students, as I only get them for such a short time and STEM is not conducive to subs, especially in short supply…it is a lot to ask of someone when it is project based and full of hammers, duct tape, hot glue, etc. Again, thanks to my sister and the help of countless teachers and our principals, handwritten notes from me were delivered to a student I was concerned about, dinners were brought from even the very substitute that was saving my year, and my household ran like clockwork thanks to grocery store trips by my teen drivers and our new favorite friend…Door Dash!

Tate started college and had a successful year one. Upon moving in, we found out that his roommate had recently been diagnosed with diabetes. His mom went through a list of, if this happens…do this, and the final item was…’if none of that is working, start chest compressions and call 911’. Well, Aunt Ashley was helping us move him in and we left there with her beside herself. I was trying to process the actual drop off of my child at school and the fact that he was going to be very responsible for someone else all at once, plus try and train for soccer and make good grades. She was ready to call the dean of housing and get him a new assignment. I told her I would see how he was feeling about all of this later in the day. PTSD is a very real disorder. It is not just reserved for soldiers, but certainly makes the most sense when describing situations that a soldier or first responder might go through. Tate is the one who dialed 911 for his dad, he spoke with them and took their advice, he managed to call me and allow me to talk to Lane and Wyatt while he monitored the situation until the paramedics and I arrived at the house. Does he have PTSD? Certainly. Did he tell me that he was probably meant to be with his new roommate because he might be the one who could handle it best? Certainly did. All I could do was cry and tell him that he was more mature than his aunt and I put together and thanked him for being this type of example to me. You don’t know your own strength until it is tested. A student once told me that I handled emergencies well…our emergency at the time was a hedgehog getting stuck under the classroom sink. I explained that I had been through worse, so this seemed like a breeze. I am encouraged daily by the moments when I want to say…”Oh, hellllllllll naw” and my boys just say…”Bring it!”

Kids are cruel. So are adults, but thirteen year old boys in a group can be cruel. Wyatt had been acting a little off for a week or so and then finally broke it down for me. A few boys had been teasing him. And when kids tease, it’s like they don’t have a ceiling. Nothing is off limits. I won’t get into the details, aside from me visualizing the fight scene from Happy Gilmore with Bob Barker because that was what I was going to do with these kids. Again, grace wins. He was going to show them by working harder than ever and improving every day so there was no more room to talk. He is following his own path to greatness and it doesn’t include letting others define him or get in his way. He is both compassionate for others in need and passionate about what he wants. He is a sponge for knowledge and when he’s not wowing us with his knowledge of the hierarchy of other cultures, he is studying and perfecting his next endeavor. He is a little old man and a teenager all wrapped up in a package that is changing a little every day.

This year has also brought hardships on several of my dearest friends. One lost her dad, another’s husband is a COVID survivor after weeks on the ventilator, another’s husband has bladder cancer and is fighting for his/their new normal. There is a helpless feeling as a friend when all you can do is pray, but I have learned to not look at it this way. There is no shame in that ‘all’ it is no small task. Prayer in itself is an action and a creation of movement and for years I am sure that many of my friends were worried that they were not doing enough for me, when they were doing everything by praying. I have continued to witness Christ move mountains through prayer. If you read the text thread alone from my group of close friends, you would read answered prayers at times almost daily. Tangible proof that there is a God who tends his sheep and that bringing your requests to him is not a small thing. Philippians 4:6 tells us to do that exact thing AND to not be anxious!

I recently read Dolly Parton’s autobiographical book My Life in Lyrics. She speaks about writing as her form of God-space. She feels closest to him when she is writing and in times of trouble and darkness she said, “I go to that God core inside me. Even when I feel like my little pilot light might have gone out, I know it’s still there. I just have to reignite it through prayer, faith, love, friends, and family.” After reading her book, I was inspired. I haven’t donated millions or started libraries. I haven’t written countless songs that tell stories, but I do think we could all relate to that pilot light. This year, a lot of people’s lights dimmed but I believe it is time to strengthen our faith and move forward like never before. I am grateful for the legacy that Shane left for his boys and I am thankful for the continual glimpses of him I get from these boys every day. I will never not be sad about his passing and I don’t believe there is an expiration date on grief. I believe that with each passing year, there is a deeper longing for his presence but also a deeper understanding of what life looks like without him physically in it.

Prayer from the start. Happy Anniversary, Babe!

Hope For Widows

I do not want to lose any of these thoughts, so I am going to link my author page from Hope for Widows here. My time with them was very healing. I never want to force my words. I write when I feel inspired or even when I feel lost in my thoughts.

Sticks, Stones, and Perspective

Quotes about Hearing his voice (29 quotes)

Last Monday marked our first day back to our physical school building since spring break and all I could think about was how every other year some of the teachers would meet to walk the building and pray. This is a public school and while I’m sure not every parent would agree that it is necessary, we consider it a privilege. So this time, instead of walking into classrooms and praying over desks, I walked into each teacher’s classroom and just listened.

I used to attend church with the sweetest lady. She was the preacher’s wife but not your typical preacher’s wife from when I was a kid. She was humble, a servant, yet vocal and not at all untouchable. She was very, very real. She would voice a prayer and then wait. In a room full of teens. Just sit in silence. Shane and I helped with the youth group at the time and I remember peeking my eye open and looking over to him wondering if we shouldn’t jump in and finish the prayer, but all she was doing was waiting for an answer. She would quietly resume her prayer when she felt like she heard what she needed to hear and sometimes it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. I know that in those moments it taught those kids and me so much about the power of Christ, the power of prayer, and so much about the power of faith. I can honestly say that in all of my years reaching out to God, I have seen signs and watched people swoop in and take care of my family during our worst nightmare, but he has never called an audible quite like I was hearing last Monday morning.

Teachers are hurting right now because not only are we serving students but we feel strongly that we serve our communities. Some of our community members are not on board with the decisions that have been made at the state department level, the health department guidelines, and that obviously trickles down to our public schools. The uncertainty of these times does not change the desire of a teacher to create an environment where students have the freedom to safely learn and discover. Teachers will do that no matter where they are. They want to be a part of the solution for families everywhere. They want to present their material and they will work day and night to make it happen.

I am taking an online class from Yale University. Teachers are learners and when I saw a free class from Yale, I wanted in! #1 because I could then add to my wall of fame a certificate from YALE!!! #2 Free!!! Yes, please! The professor is unbelievable and our principal, who introduced me to the course, now calls this professor her Budda. “The lesson of much contemporary research in judgment and decision-making is that knowledge— at least in the form of our consciously accessible representation of a situation—is rarely the central factor controlling our behavior,” Santos & Gendler (2014). In my terms, this reads that when you react outwardly and socially to an issue that you see as a problem, you aren’t reacting on the knowledge but rather on your own feelings. Let’s all check ourselves for a moment. We all do this. We are probably all guilty of assessing our feelings first and knowledge second when presented with an issue, but we don’t all share our frustrations so publicly. I know opinions are free and that is a beautiful thing, but exactly how much of the negative/victim level emotions are being gifted to our own children. Their burdens are heavy right now, too. I want to teach mine to overcome…anything. To tuck and roll. To seat, roll, and come up chopping (one football coach’s advice for life based on an old drill…yet no one should be seated during this time). To adjust. To be bendy/flexible. To put egos aside. To recognize your blessings. To think through other’s needs and what they might look like vs. your own. To imagine yourself helping someone accept this and to not contribute to the negative pools that are forming everywhere.

Stop Being A Victim Quotes | Quotable quotes, Words, Life quotes

I walked into the building last Monday morning nervous, lonely knowing that the students would not be with us, anxious for some of my school family who I knew would struggle learning new technology, and overwhelmed by the thoughts of my own children not getting to be face to face in the nurturing environment of the classroom. Some teachers have even described their feelings as feelings of grief. I would say that overall as a nation we could probably all describe the last 6 months in that way, but when you consider yourself a professional griever you know the difference. After a simple walk around the building, I could feel that there would be hope. I can take you through the grieving process and tell you there will be ups and downs, that every day will be different, and that the process is as unique as the person experiencing it. I can also tell you that grieving people can’t ‘fix’ what they are grieving about, so this is where I believe there is a light. Although the global pandemic is still very much present, history would tell us that eventually it will be exactly that…a part of our history. We do have the opportunity to fix our mindsets on the task at hand, which should be offering the next generation the ability to see adults who are problem solvers, strong, positive thinkers, people who refuse to respond as a victim, and who support others despite their own opinions.

I could go on all day about the amount of work that was accomplished in one week of preparations for our ‘pivot to home’ program to start this year. It was astounding! This week, we will make sure all of our new friends have a personal device to get started and are greeted, wide-eyed with a smile behind our masks while we hand them out in a well-organized, yet hot parking lot pickup. I will leave you with some of the words that came to me loud and clear last week as I entered different classrooms:

Warrior

Over comer

Worship

Speak Revival

Glory to God

Fresh

Renewal

Freedom

Power

Jesus, by the power of your spirit and the truth in your word, help us. Cover us. Claim our community as your own and comfort the parents, comfort the children, comfort the leaders who are tired, comfort the educators who are weary, and provoke a fire in us as we accept the challenge to rise above our own desires for simpler times. Help us to appreciate the gifts of others and recognize the needs we can serve in your name. And, Jesus, thank you for showing your face to me last week when my heart was broken by the words of others who had lost hope and needed someone to blame. Jesus, thank you for replacing the sadness in my heart with the words you spoke to me about my coworkers. Wow, just wow. More of you, less of me. Everyday. Amen.

G.I. Joe Fallacy Santos & Gendler (2014). Knowing is half the battle? Edge.

The Power of a Handwritten Note

My middle had Flu B. In that week, I managed to only miss ½ a day of school while he missed 5 days. He’s old enough to rest on his own and I can check on him throughout the day. Plenty of willing family and friends to come to his rescue if needed. Only one me to get up in the middle of the night, so sleep was at a minimum. My neck hurts, back hurts, and I’ve done more yoga stretches in the last week than in a year. All for the price of love.

That one ½ day produced a 1 page long letter from the substitute. My class doesn’t logistically work great with a sub because it is a very busy, noisy inquiry-based environment. They are creating, building, and problem solving. I had set up the day with 30 minutes each hour for group meetings and 30 minutes for quiet individual work. Preparing for a sub is one of my least favorite parts of teaching because I am very nervous for them to never want to come back. There is a shortage of these precious humans in our area and the pennies on the dollar we can offer them is not the only reason why. Kids can be hard on a sub. Remember that? “At 9:22, everyone get up and go to the pencil sharpener at the same time! It will be hilarious!” That is a direct quote from a note written by Jeremy in my 5th grade class who passed it quietly while we all tried to contain our church giggles. Same now, only the notes come more quickly on sneaky texts under the desks.

Upon receiving the sub’s note, I was both shocked and then dumbfounded at my naivety. But in half a day?? Really guys? After dealing with the specific names left and chatting with each class, I realize that it’s not the end of the world but when you are going on a few hours rest you are already feeling defeated.

That evening, I received a text from my colleague asking if I had gotten a note from a certain student. She sent me a picture of her’s and I swooned. All the heart eyes! I told her that I didn’t believe us to be at this stage of appreciation yet. That he must just really love her class. I even reminded her that I just switched to a semester format so I haven’t had him long and we are still getting used to each other. Why would she give me this heads up? Because we teach 7th grade and the art of a handwritten thank you note is mostly lost…especially on a 12 or 13 year old. Our reactions are everything to them about most things, so I was happy to know it wouldn’t be a hidden camera joke or I wasn’t being punked if he handed me one, too.

The next morning (and keep in mind, he didn’t know how bad I needed this as he is not in the ½ day that had a substitute) I was handed the sweetest 3×5 notecard I ever did see. Not only was it written carefully in his best penmanship, but it was so specific and sincere. I took attendance and got the class started and so not to embarrass him, I waited until the rush of group work began and quietly told him it may just be the nicest thing that has happened to me in a long time. His response made me even happier.

He said, “Remember the first day of class when you told us that school is the only place that you looked forward to when you were our age? Well, my house can get kind of crazy and I decided to thank the people who are there. I got kind of sad and this made me happy.”

Write someone a note today. Like now. Just stop and do it. Even if it’s short. Even if you have to go get stamps and mail it. Have fun with it. Decorate with stickers or markers or paint even. Just write it. There are a lot of people who would love an old fashioned Valentine this time of year. Some of my favorite, but most painful, reminders of Shane are when I unexpectedly find a note he had written me. Priceless. Do it! If you don’t have time to write it, text it. Email it. But writing it will be so fun and fulfilling and might even make you happy.

What if I Woke Up One Day and You Were Here

I have dreamed about this moment. What Heaven will be like. I picture you around a fire pit with a dozen or so of your closest friends. It is for some reason a very diverse group. A collection, if you will, of the many people and cultures we grew to love together through sports families, church, work, and music. You look amazing! Happily praising…guitar in hand! I am always a bit envious if I’m being honest.

If you were to come back into our lives now on Earth, it would be seamless. We would do most everything the same, but you would be here for me. To listen to my school stories and to encourage me on rough days. To take me on dates when the leaves start to fall and remind me to not get too excited about my birthday coming up because I wasn’t getting anything. Lol, you always overdid it and made sure the boys made a big deal. I know this is where they get their great gift ideas for friends and family.

We would cheer on our kids through life in general. You would do all of the math homework and I would pretend to help with the English, even though we all know you read more and faster than me, were a great writer, and loved the classics. Your high school teacher wouldn’t believe that one. We would grill and enjoy the dogs together, and you would just love this new Walmart grocery pickup because that would mean more time at home. It’s the everyday that gets me sometimes.

I need your help. I need to know what to tell these boys in their worst, most self-doubtful hours. I need help that only you can offer. There are so many well-meaning people around us, but none of them could answer these big questions from your boys. I know you see us. I know you hear us. I know you love us. And, I know where to find these answers, but it would just be a lot easier if you were here.