Dancing Queen

Yesterday my daughter, Lindsey, and her dance team competed in a competition and won First Place!

Thank you for hard work and happy rewards.

"Mom?"
"Yes?"
"Will you be available to drive me and some of my dance team friends to our competition?"
"When is it?" [I really do have to check my calendar, sadly.]
"Saturday, March 30."
[day before Easter, spring break, schedule wide open]
"Yes, I'll be glad to."

Thank you for teenagers including their parents in their teenage world.

She has spent hours upon hours in rehearsal.  They practice during and after school.  They meet at nutrition and lunch [instead of eating].  They go to school during Spring Break and practice some more.  Most Saturdays, too [this is not a sentence].  Competition day arrived [this is].

Thank you for passion.

"Where am I taking you?"
"It's at a high school in Anaheim."  [an hour-and-a-half, two hours or more in traffic]
"What time do we go?"
"The competition starts at 5, but we are leaving school at 2." [over at 10, home at 11:30]
"Okay, sounds good."

Thank you for knowing the drive is nothing when she wants you there.

So, for two hours [traffic after all] I had a car filled with excited teenage girls talking and laughing and changing the radio station, and I didn't want to be anywhere else in the world.  They cast a kind of spell, and we adults can strap on our cantankerous gas masks and fight it, or we can breathe it in.  [My grandmother had a saying: "Scratch yer mad place and get glad."]

Thank you for teenage joy and exuberance, and for Mammo and her sayings.

We arrived at 4:00.  The competition got underway at 6:00.  The dancing went on for four hours.  Was the music loud?  Very very.  Were the bleachers hard?  The hardest ever.  And I didn't want to be anywhere else.

Thank you for ear plugs and portable cushioned bleacher chairs.

I watched kids from all over Southern California dancing for their lives.  It showed on their faces and in their bodies:  they lived for this.  They leaped and turned and popped.  They smiled sweetly or glared menacingly [hip hop looks tough].  They cheered for their competitors.  They restored my soul.

Thank you for dancing.

Drew tells our daughters their mother used to dance.  They half hear, or they're like yeah.  But I did, even he doesn't know how much.  Drew met me long after the years of dance classes, high school musicals, and recitals.  Tap ballet modern jazz ballroom disco [yup, disco].  Now, I pretty much just dance at weddings [somebody, please, get married].  There is a new dancing queen in the family.

Thank you for weddings.

Lindsey danced in the Hip Hop-Large Group category.  When her group was announced, I screamed and cheered and waved my arms.  I defied the NO FILMING rule [yeah, I'm a bad@$$], held my camera discreetly, and pressed record.  Perfect.  In the end [the VERY end, like, around 10 pm], her group won First Place in their category and Hip Hop Champion overall.  [Crown, please]

Thank you for cameras and winning, and for being there and no place else in the world.

Thank you, God, for these bodies that jump and spin.  Thank you for time with our children.  Thank you for your Son, Jesus Christ, who died for our sins and rose again to bring us new life.  

Happy Easter

Out of the Mouths of Babes

It's Spring Break.  This isn't Florida, or wherever college students are said to convene and carouse.  It's better.  It's my living room.  I didn't have to get up early, take my daughter to school, or head off to work.  It's my cup of coffee beside me, my laptop before me, and my daughter and the cat on the sofa close by.  I'm going to stretch and take a hike.  I'm going to the bank.  It'll be epic.

Thank you for days off from work that make trips to the bank seem special in their normalcy.

I didn't always enjoy Spring Break.  Spring Break, like summer vacation, meant babysitters and day camps for my kids, and just more work for me.  Fourteen years ago, that changed.  Here is my little story about how my daughter changed our lives and why I celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.

Thank you for new friends who haven't heard your little stories and for old friends who don't mind hearing them repeated.

In January 1999, I worked in marketing for a non-profit research firm, writing ads, catalogs, and book-jacket copy.   I had recently begun attending Northridge United Methodist Church with my two daughters, ages 8 and 3.  The pastor, Mark Ulrickson, had been speaking about Spiritual Gifts. 

Here is a snippet of what The United Methodist Church says about Spiritual Gifts (taken from UMC.org):

Every child of God is filled with the power of the Holy Spirit, specially gifted to play a unique and valued role in the body of Christ.  No one is without gift or purpose.  Spiritual gifts are not our talents or skills.  They are the grace of God at work within us, empowering us to match our deep passions with the world's deep need.  The gifts are given to individuals, but they are given to build and strengthen community and to meet the needs of those around us.

Thank you for amazingly easy access to quotes from the internet.

So, I'd been wondering how I might put my gifts to work to "build and strengthen community and to meet the needs of those around [me]."  At the same time, 8-year-old Jeannette was wondering how she was going to spend Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.  That January Sunday my daughter was silently dreading her school holiday.  She knew she would spend it at Phyllis's house with the babies.

Thank you for Phyllis, the loving, caring babysitter who loved my babies and kept secret all the first roll-overs and sit-ups and words and steps so that they were First for me.

"You know, Mommy," Jeannette finally spoke up, "if you were a teacher, we would have the same holidays."  There it was, the answer, boldly stated and directly to the point, as only a child can do.  

Thank you for the honesty of children.

I could've laughed it off or brushed it aside.  I could've said no.  But I didn't.  I was moved by her seriousness, and I took her seriously.  I told her, "Well, that's true, and when I was in high school I really planned to be a teacher.  I will find out what I would have to do to become a teacher now."

Thank you for taking children seriously.

There have been many things that I really intended to do that I didn't actually do [blogging daily comes to mind].  This wasn't one of those things.  I try to recognize signs for what they are.  Jeannette's words to me were a sign I couldn't ignore.  Here is a quick run-down of the signs that followed:

• Step One, CBEST exam--["I'll just take this test and see how I do, and then we'll see if teaching is in my future"] Aced that.  Sign Two.
• Step Two, MSAT exam--This test assesses specific knowledge covering every subject, and every test is different.  In addition to calculating the amount of cement and carpet needed to build and cover of a set of steps,  I was asked to describe my design for a costume for a "minimalist" modern dance [hel-LO, I took modern dance all through high school and every semester of college!]  Sign Three [Also, volume and surface area of the steps, no problem].
• Step Three, Credential Program and student teaching, a.k.a. End of Story.  I never could have proceeded if it meant quitting work and paying for college, but [Deus ex machina] providence led me to the Los Angeles Unified School District Intern Program.  I could teach class during the day and take classes at night, all while earning a paycheck.  [The obstacles just kept falling away, I tell ya.]  I signed up.  Sign Four.
• Step Four, One-Week Summer Intensive Training--Prior to the start of school in September, interns were required to attend something akin to boot camp.  [So, I'm still working at my job, btw.]  Well, I had a week of vacation time saved up.  Sign Five.

After that, it was just: got hired at Fullbright Avenue Elementary School and gave my two weeks' notice at my old job.  So, that's my story.  Everything was an obstacle, and nothing was.  I saw everything as a sign: "OPEN."  In September of '99, Jeannette started 4th grade, Lindsey entered Kindergarten, and I was in 5th grade.  We had the same holidays, including Spring Break.  Now I celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr. Day as an anniversary of the day Jeannette changed our lives again [being born was pretty life-changing].  

Thank you for boring tales that turn out to be allegories for life.

In review, then--

• Moral 1:  Listen to Children.  They speak honestly and from the heart.  [They would be far better at relationships than most men and women, if it weren't for the whole "cooties" thing.]
• Moral 2:  Read the Signs.  They all say "Open" [if you believe God holds the key].
• Moral 3:  Run hurdles.  Obstacles are not meant to stop you.  They provide you opportunities to hone your problem-solving skills.  [Good skills to have in a world full of problems]
• Moral 4:  Find your Spiritual Gift and start giving it.*

What has my story to do with A Year of Gratitude?  Well, I'm thankful every day that I go to work at something I was called to do. 

Thank you, Mark Ulrickson, for your message.  Thank you, Jeannette, for telling me you wanted more time with me.  Thank you, Drew, for supporting me through my career [and income] change.  Thank you, LAUSD, for hiring me.  Thank you, God, for Mark, Jeannette, Drew, and the LAUSD.

[This may actually be the first time God has ever been thanked for the LAUSD.]

*Check it out:  The United Methodist Church website has a way to calculate your own Spiritual Gifts.  If you're curious, give it a try.  [This is where I try and insert the link.]  Spiritual Gifts Assessment Questionnaire

Actions Speak Louder

Yeah, yeah, I haven't been blogging as often as I was at the start.  What can I say?

Thank you for making room in life to let some things slide when other demands intrude.  

I was reflecting on the idea of gratitude this afternoon.  I'm trying this year to accomplish two things:

• to live with a grateful heart every day [okay, I got this]
• to write thank you notes to people every day [I am an utter failure at this]

But these are both somewhat passive.  [I could be experiencing an amazing grat-attack* and you couldn't tell by looking at me.]  I wondered what truly active gratitude would look like.  And I remembered this:

Years ago, as a fifth grade teacher, I helped a concerned mother with some applications for middle school enrollment.  I was happy to help.  Her son was bright, capable of achieving in an advanced program.  His older brother had been in and out of trouble in secondary school, and Mom wanted her younger son to have different opportunities at a different middle school outside her neighborhood boundary.  I explained to her which forms to ask for and helped her fill them out.  I signed a recommendation.  And that was all it was.  She thanked me sincerely and repeatedly.  "Gracias."

As that school year came to a close, the mother received a letter informing her that her son was accepted for enrollment on permit.  At 8:00 a.m. on the last day of school [the REAL last day, when only the teachers are there packing up their rooms for summer], the mother brought her son to school and knocked on my classroom door.  "He help you.  He can clean, carry boxes, anything." [She was having a grat-attack.]

"Sam" was ready to spend his first day of summer vacation back in our classroom packing books into boxes and boxes into closets.  He uttered not one word of complaint.  I wouldn't say he was happy to be there.  In his face was a look not of joy but certainly of willingness.  He was willing to work, to help me on her behalf.  Their gift of help was a physical manifestation of sincere thanks [a gift for which I was truly amazed and thankful].

The End, I guess.  It's the end as I know it.  I don't know the real end.  I'd like to say the boy came to visit some years later to show me his acceptance letter to university, but that didn't happen.  I hope their hard work paid off.  Maybe he'll bring me his diploma.  From med school.  It could still happen.

So, I think that's what active gratitude looks like.  Paying back or paying forward, active gratitude demands you do something because you are thankful.  Given that definition, then, I'd say that anyone who serves in mission in areas of need is perfecting active gratitude.  You are my heroes.

What did I do because God loves me?  I can thank God, certainly.  I do it all the time.  But what did I do?  Honestly, I don't think blogging is what the Lord had in mind.  Or maybe it is exactly part of the plan.  Fine.  I'll keep blogging and hope it comes to some good purpose.

What did you  do?

*grat-attack: (n.) the sudden, overwhelming sensation of gratitude or thankfulness.

A Few of My Favorite Things

So, here are some things I like:

I like it when my cats both nap on the bed with me.  This almost never happens because I rarely take naps, and my cats barely tolerate each other.  Here is what it looks like when this comes to pass.

I like hiking in Southern California in early spring, after a little rain and sunshine have turned the hills green for a short while.  It will all be brown and fuel for brushfire in a few weeks.  But for now, it looks like this.

I like teaching.  I can't show you pictures of my students for safety and privacy reasons.  But here is one student's idea of what I look like.

I don't look like this anymore.  I got my hair cut.

I like my husband and my two daughters and Disneyland.  So just imagine how much I like my husband and my two daughters at Disneyland!  Here we are on the "Space Mountain" ride on Thanksgiving Day 2011.  Great time.  Awful photo.

Cheesecake, duh.

I like camping in Yosemite National Park.  So beautiful.  My photos don't do it justice.  But here is a pic of the sunset taken around 9:00 pm from a pull-out on Tioga Pass.  The sunset seemed to last forever.  And after that, the stars.

I like of a lot of other things, too.

Mostly, I like people.  There is not one person in my life right now that I don't like.  So, if you know me, I like you, and it makes me happy every time I see you.  If I haven't seen you in awhile, I'm thinking of you often.  If you have moved away, I miss you.  And I pray for your health and happiness.

If you don't know me, there is still time for us to become friends.  I look forward to it.

Dear God, Thank you for the things I like.  Thank you for the simple things and the amazing things.  Thank you for people near and far close to my heart.

The Downside to Looking on the Bright Side.

I used to be edgy.  I've lost my edge.  I had a sharp remark or quick quip [try and say that ten times fast] for every occasion.  I routinely zeroed in on absurd realities and held them up to ridicule.  I cracked me up.

Thank you for absurd realities.

As my rate of Facebook status updates shows a huge decline, I reflect on the possible causes.

• Is the world a better place?
• Are people in the news more intelligent, caring, or tolerant?
• Do I have a brain tumor?

Please, God, let the answer be that the world is a better place and NOT a brain tumor.

Well, the world is not a better place.  Basketball freak show Dennis Rodman visits North Korea, calls Kim Jong Un a "friend" and a "great guy," and Kim Jong Un promptly threatens to destroy Washington, D.C. with a nuclear missile attack.  [There is a snarky remarky just dying to be said, but I've gone soft.]  

People in the news are not more intelligent, caring, or tolerant.  The Voting Rights Act is under fire, with opponents claiming we don't need it anymore.  Am I the only one who remembers how conservatives actively tried to shut down extended early polling in an effort to prevent minorities from voting in the most recent presidential election?  [Anyone else?]

With all that's wrong in the world, with so much to complain about, why have I been silent?  [Brain tumor aside.]  I hear a lot of negativity.  I haven't seen any evidence that it makes problems go away.  On the other hand, ignoring the world's problems and focusing on the positive doesn't effect change either.  A life spent complaining can make you ill in body and spirit.  But insisting "life is grand" isn't realistic.

Thank you for struggles to find balance.

This "Year of Gratitude" is changing me.  In my effort to see the silver linings to each gray cloud life blows my way, I find myself praying more and "Facebooking" less.  That should be good.  But if I was the person with the sarcastic comments, and I'm not that person anymore, then who will I be now?

Thank you for redefining self in middle age.

Jesus asked the blind beggar, "What do you want me to do for you?"  What do I want?

• I want to acknowledge and appreciate the gifts God sends [even the ones disguised as trouble].
• I want to understand my role as observer or actor [and to know when to do one or the other].
• I want to be positive [not just my blood type].
• I want to fix what I can, rather than complain about what needs fixing.

Thank you, Jesus.  When you put it like that, it really brings things into focus.

And if my blogging helps anyone else clarify what's important to them, well, that's cool, too.

Thank you, God, for personal, professional, and spiritual growth throughout our lives.  Thank you for clarity.  Thank you for change.