Old Friends are the Best

I am blessed. In so many ways I can't even keep track. I lose sight of this often. Today was a great day. I got together with an old friend. We have known each other almost 30 years. We raised kids together, laughter together, cried together, supported each other in times of sorrow and loss, celebrated each other in life's triumphs. 

I first met Jill when we worked together at State Farm. Who could have know this friendship would remain strong and constant through all the years and moves and miles. When she first moved away, to CO, I thought this friendship was done. Somehow, through God's guidance I know, we stayed in touch and even visited each other. For me, this was a first. She was my first real non-hometown friend. I was fortunate to have her move to my hometown for a period of time. Now I know she would not say this was fortunate to her, but it was life saving to me. Again, God played a hand. It was a time I would not have made it through without her. Even as she moved on to Omaha, and eventually back to CO, and I to IA and MN, we remained connected. 

There were numerous moves and life altering events through these 30 years, but we have kept reconnecting. Each time it's like a day hasn't gone by, we don't miss a beat, we're remembering old times and making new memories. Today was particularly surreal. Visiting my daughter, whom Jill has known since birth, and introducing her to my granddaughter, has brought a new chapter to our story. We are women who raised children at the same time, took care of each other's kids, and now we are starting the grandparent stage (or at least I am, I always did the kid thing first I guess). It's wonderful!

She sees me like no one else, because she knows me like no one else. We met at young adults, with big ambitions for life and family and careers. Through our thirties we shared of our kids grow up and shared our stories through the miles. Now our kids are all grown and we compare our hopes and dreams for them. And through all that we've watched each other grow and changed, survive tough times, cried on each other's shoulders, through the phone many times, and celebrated when we came out on the other side better than when we went in. 

She doesn't know this, but I admire her strength, her faith, her wisdom and her visionary outlook into what the future could be, always.  Where I am weak, she picks me up, carries me for a period, then helps me walk on my own again. Where I am strong, she supports and encourages me to be even stronger. I wish I had her strength. We love each other's children like they are our own. Our story will never be over. When we pass on to a better place, I have no doubt we will find each other at the pearly gates. Whoever goes first will be waiting for the other with open arms and a "What took you so long? I have so much to tell you!"

We are family. Not by blood. Not by marriage. By choice.

The Spring Goodbyes

I look forward to spring with renewed faith and energy every year. That might be the teacher talking, but when spring comes around I know soon it will be summer and I can catch up on chores around the house that have been overlooked because of the pile of assignments or tests I need to attend to, I can do more leisure reading, not just reading my computer manuals or Accounting textbooks, but most importantly, I can catch up on lost sleep!

While there is much to be happy about, spring is always a time of goodbyes. Teaching High School has taught me to appreciate the time I have with my students, my kids, because one day they will graduate and move on with their lives, and our relationship will never be the same. I don't say this in a "feel sorry for me" sort of way, it is a fact. I get to see these students everyday, spend at least one hour with them, and hear about everything going on in their lives from class stuff, to sports, to who is dating whom, to what's happening at home. This is what is never the same, the day to day conversations.

I have a group of students this year that are particularly special to me (do I say that every year? I might, I don't know). These students I have seen grow from the time I had them in Tech7 class. Even as I type this my eyes tear over at the thought of them graduating. I care for them so much, some I even wanted to adopt at one time, I want the best for them and I will always have their back if they need me.

Students are not the only people that leave in the spring, teachers also leave. They get married, move because a spouse gets transferred, or simply move on to another district that has seen how great they are and scooped them up away from us. It's the same with these teachers, I won't see them everyday, hang out after school, socialize with them, at least not like it has been. We'll keep in touch, I know we will, it will just be different.

So while I am looking forward to summer, selfishly, I am also sad to see summer come, selfishly. I wish all my kids, and my friends, the very best, today, tomorrow and always.

Nostalgia

I was sitting at home Saturday night flipping through the channels and came across The History of the Eagles on CNN of all channels, parts I and II. Now I have always been a fan of the Eagles (seeing them in concert is a bucket list item I didn't get to do) but never realized all that I did not know.

What was most amazing to me was the song writing abilities of Glenn Frey and Don Henley. There are no songwriters today, not like these two were. To put words to music and have meaning and depth and heart, there is something special in that. And any listener who absorbs the music creates their own meaning and relationship with the melody. Anytime they hear that song, it transports them back to a time, a place, a memory. 

January took so many artists from this world, I can only imagine how wonderful the next world has to be. And when there is loss, I tend to have a period of wallow and regret. The realization that there will be no new songs for this world by a group that has had such an impact. I will search the internet and learn more about each of these people, buy music from these artists that I don't already have, shed some tears, and be transported to a different place and memory that each song gives me. Thank you to the songwriters for giving me this.

While I have many favorites, Wasted Time hits pretty close to the top. So many underlying meanings in the verses, so many times in a person's life you can ask yourself if what you've been doing was a waste of time or not. I don't pretend to have any of those answers, and on a good day I believe there are no regrets, only life lessons that have put each of us on the path we were meant to be. Where I am today is not what I thought my life would have been when this song was released in 1976 (and considering I was only 7) and I don't know what the future holds, but it's my life, and it hasn't been Wasted Time.

Traveling Home

I recognize that I do not write in this blog on any sort of regular basis, usually just when the "urge" hits me. Today I was cleaning out my emails at school, trying to stay ahead of things while on Christmas break, and came across this image.

Next week I am to travel back home, Nebraska, to see my family. And as fate would have it, we are suppose to be get bad weather the next few days, which could prevent me from going. Now on any given day, it really would not matter. But this time of year there is something about going "home". Even though I have not lived there for 20+ years, whenever I go back, and I drive into town, I feel 16 years old again. There is comfort in that, familiarity.

I am no longer that person who left West Point so many years ago, and few people see or truly know the "me" I have grown to be. This road I see above, winding and surrounded by snow, does run in two directions. It will take me to my childhood home, where I'm still a kid and need to be taken care of. But when my time is up, it will return me North, to my now home, where I have friends and family that see me for who I have become.

Roads are funny that way. They take you to new and exciting chapters in your life, I have traveled many of those. But they also take you back to where you've been. Either way, the road you choose, whether familiar or that less traveled, is your own choice, your adventure. Love it, Live it.

The Recovery Road

As I write this post I'm constantly reminded on how far I have come, and yet how far I still want to go.

Let's start by backing up about 6 weeks. I've been having some trouble and pain in my neck, and no I'm not using a cliche, I really had a pain in my neck. I had been doctoring it and going to the chiropractor, and actually last weekend I thought I was on the upswing. I spent Sunday May 31st with Cory, Taylor and Emily in South Dakota. It was a great day, I had very little pain, was actually able to stretch my neck out and enjoy myself. I'm going to rephrase and say It was a wonderful day!! We got home around 7:30 I think and we were trying to decide what to do about supper. Cory brushed the hair away from neck to give me a hug and all I remember is I let out a little squeak sort of and Cory saying "oh I'm sorry I know your neck is soar" and I just dropped. I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't feel my arms, my legs, nothing. Cory laid me on the floor and I remember saying don't leave me. He kept telling me he wasn't, that he was holding my hand, but I couldn't feel it.

I can't imagine how scared he must have been at the time, because I know how scared I was, but he never left my side. The paramedics came and took me to the hospital. They did a CAT scan but found nothing, which had me even more scared. The next step was to send me to Mankato, because they had no neurosurgeon in Fairmont. Never has a word scared me so much, neurosurgeon. That ride to Mankato, in the back of an ambulance, was the longest ever. I was awake the entire time. I recognized every light, turn, curve, and landmark along the way. Slowly there was feeling coming back, primarily on my right side, but I was in no position to complain, feeling was feeling. I can't say I really had any control over my limbs, but I could make them move.

I finally got settled in a room. I don't remember much, just that I had a roommate, who I'm sure was cussing the fact that she was woken up after midnight, and got moved around to make room for me. Once I was settled and all the hustle and bustle calmed downed, I just laid there looking at the ceiling dozing off and on and wondering what in the hell happened. I was terrified and was thinking only the worst possible things. Cory attempted to sleep in a few chairs that were in the room, although I'm sure he got even less sleep than me.

In the morning they took me to do an MRI. At some point, I can't remember if it was before or after the MRI, Shelby came to the hospital. I just remember them both being in the room when I got back, and we waited. When there were finally some results to share Shelby was in the room with me and a surgeon came in. I remember the words spinal injury and I was lucky they were able to do survey within 24 hours of the injury. Shelby called Cory and within minutes he was there and between the two of them they got all the information down.

What had happened was I had a herniated disk that had ruptured and bruise and pinched the spinal cord, which caused the paralysis. The team of surgeons went in, removed the disc, which he said afterwards was extremely bad (really? no shit!) and replaced it with a cadaver bone, a metal plate and four screws. They took me to prep for surgery, and Cory came along and stayed with me until I had to go back, which was about 1:30 or 2:00. Surgery was to last about 2-3 hours, than to recovery. My friend Sara was texting Cory for updates. Sheds ask "is she out yet" and get a "no" response. This went on for quite awhile, far past the 2-3 hours they said it would take (and she can tell the story so much better than I can). Apparently it was after 7:00 before I was taken to recovery and after 9:00 before I got back to the room.

I have the best X-ray pictures of the plate in my neck, freaks me out a little bit. And as most hospital stays go, I was awoken every few hours to make sure I was still alive ( actually to make sure I wasn't getting too much rest and relaxation in this 4 star resort I was trapped in) and they got my lazy butt out of bed and walking the next day, with a walker of course, and this gorgeous pink plastic belt around me so some nurse could hoist me up if needed.

The surgical team had lots of big plans about my recovery, or better yet where I should go to recover, to which I produced tears and fears every time. My ultimate goal was just to get home. And to my relief by Wednesday night I was paroled!! I have home health care and PT and OT coming to my home. It's now Wednesday and I still don't have full feeling back in my hands, arms, feet and legs. My large muscles are working better and I have better control over them. Fine motor skills still need some work. But as I have been reminded many times, by many people, a bruise does not heal in a few days, it takes several weeks. And considering a week ago I couldn't feel anything, and that Saturday and Sunday night Cory and I walked to Dairy Freeze, I've come a long way baby.

I've got a road ahead of me, but I have good friends and people in my life to help me remember to be thankful for all I do have. I would not have made it this far without any of them. Thank you to Sara for taking care of things at home and work, getting a hold of Shelby, and being a rock for Cory. Thank you Shelby for dropping everything and being there for your mom, and to Chase for being there for you. Jayne, Kim, Michelle, Shari thank you for coming to visit at the hospital and Kim, Roxy, Niss and Kelli for coming to the house. Thank you Bonnie for coming to visit and bringing food and flowers, that was so sweet! Thanks to my PLC group, Segar and Johnson, Ellen and Bob and Kay for the flowers at the hospital, what nice surprises!! Thank you Jill for kicking my butt all the way from Colorado when I needed it, and to Sara for kicking it right here in person and for taking me to school when I probably should have just stayed home. Patti and Roxy, thanks for all the ribbing about my walker (am ecstatic to say I no longer need it) and laughing at the 16 Candles references (you and Sara can work on my special sweatshirt!) Thank you to all my friends, colleagues and students (and Brent & Jordan far from me) who called, texted and emailed well wishes. You have no idea the power of your good thoughts!

Most of all, thank you to Cory for being by my side, strong when I needed you to be, honest and caring, a shoulder to cry on, an arm to hold onto to, a hand to hold. You haven't let me fall, you've reminded me I can be strong when I have to be, independent when I need to be, and when I have wanted to feel sorry for myself, you've reminded me I have more to be thankful for than sorry for. Words cannot thank you enough.

While this is not how I envisioned my summer starting, it has realigned my goals. I will continue to blog so that (a) I can easily update the masses on the recovery road and (b) to work on my fine motor skills. Typing has always been an easy thing for me. I started this thing on Saturday. 5 days to finish, not too bad. Don't think I'll be doing any 97 wpm tests anytime soon.

#ONEword2015

Normally I do not mix my school and personal blogs. Each has a purpose for me, a job sort of. And my personal blogs' job is to let me reflect, remember, or just get something off my chest (no wise cracks here!)

But as I was scrolling through Twitter, at school, I noticed a new hashtag getting attention, or a few variations of it. To start the new year off on the right foot, there is a website for you to pick your #ONEword for 2015 (or #ONEword2015). What one word would you choose to define you, what you want to be and how you want to live day to day through 2015?

If you click on the link above, it takes you to the website and you can find your tribe (I love that! It makes this process feel so rugged and earthly. I feel the need to make a dress from tanned deer skin and braid my hair). So, I went there and started entering words, looking for my people. I used the standard cliches people use: empathy, forgiveness, courage, kindness, love. What did I find? Lots of other people picked those words as well.

But then I took a step back and really thought about this. What one word is going to describe how I want to live my life, who I want to be? There really is only one, and I've been working towards this for a year: PEACE.

Now I don't mean Peace in the worldly sense, as in Peace, Love, Hippy '60's, no war kind of thing. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for all that, really, but right now, at this point in my life, I recognize and respect the fact that the only person I can change and improve is me, and I've got a lot of work to do (again, NO wise cracks here!). For a year I have been looking for peace in my life. If I reflect and compare my life today to what it was 6 months ago, a year ago, 3 years ago, yes I have MUCH more peace now. But have I arrived? Am I at the end of my Peace journey?

For me, Peace is watching the sunrise over the fields in Minnesota (or Iowa or Nebraska, seriously people, it's the same in all these places, and it's majestic!). Peace is getting up in the morning, putting on my running shoes, shoving the headphones in my ears and finding a place where no one else is and I can run and reflect. (and I have the most profound thoughts and revelations during these runs, just ask me!) Peace is having a cup of coffee, sitting outside or in the porch and walking up to the day. It's loving on the dogs at night after they have played outside and just want attention.

Peace is knowing that my children and grandson are safe, they are happy, and they are loved. Peace is having a job I love and that challenges me. Peace is letting my students know how much they mean to me and what a difference they make in my life.

But most of all, peace is living everyday on my terms. No criticism to make me feel less than who I am. No second guessing my decisions or fear my actions will be deemed idiotic or immature. No pressure to conform to what others think I should be. No thoughts of inferiority, no emotional break down from being torn apart by people I should trust most. I can speak my mind because I have something important to say, something valuable to contribute to the conversation, without repercussion.

And someday peace will just be part of who I am, it won't be something I will be conscience of working towards, because I will have already found it, integrated it into who I am. And with that peace, I will be the me I was always suppose to be, the me that I am starting to see, the REAL me that I want people to know.

Peace is my word, the Peace people are my people, and with peace comes love and happiness. I've begun to learn that over the past year. So am I at the end of my Peace journey? Well, I'm not there yet, but I can see the light on the train, coming through the tunnel.

 

The Geese came by today.....

Written 12/21/14

I woke up this morning to a warm 36 degrees and fog. As I stepped outside it didn't feel like December in Minnesota, with Christmas only four days away. And then I heard the geese. I couldn't see them but I could hear them, for the longest time, honking to each other, communicating I imagine, as families do this time of year as they get together to celebrate the holiday season. And suddenly I was overcome with a wave of emotion I have not felt in some time.

My grandmother loved the sound of the geese flying over in the fall months. She was born in CT, raised in CA, but moved to NE after meeting and marrying my grandfather. I can't imagine the culture shock that must have been for her in the '40's. I've heard lots of stories, for instance going from always having indoor plumbing to having her own outhouse and pumping water to boil for a warm bath. (I will never take running water for granted, I promise!) And having to hang a side of beef in the attic for the winter, so there would be meat to eat (and so the animals wouldn't get at it!!) Holy crap! Refrigerator/freezer, have I told you lately that I love you!!

As I stood on the back step, and listened to the geese, tears fell down my face, big crocodile tears, I couldn't control them. I believe in signs. I believe that our loved ones that have left us come back in ways to let us know they are still around, protecting us, loving us. And I will take this gaggle of geese as a sign that my Grandma Penny stopped by to say hello today, 

I still miss you, everyday. I miss you kind words to and about everyone, they way you bustled around the house baking bread and doing housework. I remember you calling grandpa "daddy" and how you two would sit at the bar for breakfast or lunch, and you would rub his back. You would sing songs that you remember you mother singing, old Irish songs sometimes, and then would tell a story. I wish I had written them down. 

I strive to be kind and loving as I remember you being, and I work hard to be strong and overcoming of obstacles as I know you had to do. And mornings like this, when in am sure you stopped by, I slip on your sweater and feel your arms around me and for a moment feel safe and loved.