Comfort and Joy

The holiday season seems to be flying by, like usual. The hustle and bustle of the season is in full swing. In my errands this week I've only been honked at a few times. The girls and I start each outing with a prayer...a prayer for protection, a prayer that others will be happy and joyful...a prayer that the Christmas spirit will be filling all those we run in to. And for the most part, it has worked. I wasn't paying attention in Safeway and completely backed into a woman, who was also not paying attention. She laughed and said that she guessed we were both doing the same thing. We wished each other Merry Christmas and went on our ways. At the post office, I walked in before a gentleman who was grumbling about being behind me in line. I smiled, wished him a Merry Christmas and offered him to cut in front of us. He took me up on the offer and when he was finished, he smiled and thanked me and wished me a Merry Christmas back. Slowing down and savoring the season has been important to me this year. 

And as much as I have willed holiday spirit and good tidings to everyone around me, I have let sadness and tears creep into my own heart and my own home this season. Grief is a hard thing. And it strikes at the most inconvenient times. The anxiety and the sadness have been building. And I work very hard to stuff that all down, and walk through each day with a smile on my face and joy in my heart. But it's hard. And each step closer to Christmas Day that comes, the harder it gets to hold the floodgates closed. 

Several times over the last few weeks, I have seen my friends and family post that thing on Facebok that talks about how the holidays aren't happy and fun for some people. And every time I read through that, my heart hurts for those people. I have friends that will be spending Christmas in a hospital bed. Friends who have just gotten news that is enough to shatter their worlds. Friends who are setting their tables missing one or more beloved family members. And the holidays, though a happy, blessed, peaceful time, are also painful reminders of change. Reminders of differences between Christmasses passed. Reminders that things aren't the way they used to be, or should be. 

This Christmas for me has had sadness. Waiting in the Santa line and seeing the families...whole, complete families, has been hard for me. Moms and dads and kids with rosy cheeks and faces glowing. Posts about sisters hanging out together and being together, while my own sister and her family seem to be millions of miles away in Japan. Talking about plans for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day and knowing that very important members of our family won't be with us. I don't remember a time when the Deems weren't with us for Christmas Eve. And it just seems like yesterday it was last Christmas and hearing Tom coughing and talking about what on earth could be wrong with him, not knowing he'd slip from our grasp just a few short months later. Hanging the stocking by the mantle and finding our sweet Sissy dog's stocking and knowing she won't be here with us for the first time. Tears well in my eyes, and I close my eyes and pray for God to calm my heart and dry my tears. 

Walking through Safeway yesterday, I was walking down the beer aisle. I reached for a case of Blue Moon, Brian's favorite. I wasn't going to buy it...I'm far enough in my journey that I don't "almost" buy things for him anymore. But I was sad that I couldn't buy my husband his favorite beer for Christmas Day celebrations. Grief swept over me in the middle of that aisle. I clutched my chest and quietly sobbed in the store for a few minutes. 

Luckily, my Heavenly Father watches out for me. I felt His presence there in the aisle and I heard Him lean in and whisper "Joshua 10:25, my daughter" I texted a friend, because I didn't know what the verse was off the top of my head. She texted me back that it was awesome news! Joshua 10:25: 25 Joshua said to them, “Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Be strong and courageous. This is what the Lord will do to all the enemies you are going to fight.”

The enemies I'm going to fight? The enemies of sadness and pain. The enemies that keep me in this cycle of grief and pain, of worry and anxiety. My heart was calmed. 

I know I am not alone. And I am filled with comfort and joy! The new King is born! My Heavenly Father is with me always! I am blessed! I have an amazing family! I have the best friends in the whole world! I have been blessed with the best little girls anyone could ask for. Their joy and happiness are contagious this season! Their eyes twinkle, the magic of the season is in their souls, everything is an awe-inspiring moment of love and peace and joy. 

So, I will think of the people that are missing from our home and our lives. I will shed tears as I'm orchestrating the magic of Christmas all alone in my living room. I will miss the Deem family, wanting to hug them and hold them as they experience their first Christmas holiday without Tom. I will be sad when Sissy's stocking remains empty Christmas morning. But I will be happy and filled with comfort and joy, knowing that I am safe and resting in the arms of my loving Father.  I am blessed! Blessed to have had the experiences I had with the people (and puppies!) that I am missing. Blessed to be surrounded by such love and kindness! Blessed to be a daughter of the King, knowing that through Him, I will survive anything. 

Wishing you comfort and joy in this holiday season, and holding you all close in my heart with love and peace and prayer. Comfort and joy! From my heart to yours...

Please Mr. Postman

I love our Christmas traditions! We have many, and I'll be blogging about some of them throughout this holiday season as they relate to things that are on my mind. 

Right now, spread across my table, is one of my favorite Christmas traditions of sending out our family Christmas card. I love thinking about our cards and the photos of our family and planning out how that all will look. It all starts with the perfect pictures! Capturing the moments and the memories of our holiday time together is super important to me. So I employ the best in my cousin, Kayla! If you have never heard me talk about her, you should totally check her out. She works magic with a camera and captures the most stunning photos ever. Her Facebok page is under Kayla Lynn Photography and her work is amazing! I'm trying to convince her to come to our little town next fall for mini sessions so for all my friends and family who want the perfect pictures - pay attention around August!!

Anyways, we get our pictures taken. I choose our favorites and add them to our card. I'm so excited to get them back and see how beautiful and grown up my girls are in print!  This part has always been the best part of the process. 

But this year? My favorite part of the process has been addressing the envelopes slowly, one at a time, and seeing where I send these pictures.  The cards that we send span the United States, and now thanks to my sister and brother-in-law stationed in Japan, we've even gone international. 

As I was addressing my cards this year, I took time on each simple address...thinking about the street names...marveling at the various states that are represented in my address book...thinking about the impact that each person on the receiving end of these cards has had on our lives. So many friends and family, people that crossed our path and never left, people I hardly ever speak to except for the yearly Christmas cards that we exchange, people I see in a daily basis and love dearly. There is a large list of friends and family that I send to. I've thought about paring it down over the years, not sending them to everyone in my address book. Choosing only a handful to write to. Not sending a card to people that don't write to us. And the thought of that makes me sad! I enjoy sending my cards. I like showing off my girls and my little family. But most importantly, I hope that the recipients of my cards know that they are each sent with love and admiration and a thankful heart. For the people that I send the cards to are people that are important to me.  They are an important piece of the Duncan puzzle. They had some part in getting us to who we are today.

There are teachers that I had in my elementary school days at Peace that I still keep in touch with. They raised me and watched me grow in that small Lutheran school. They helped get us to church and played a big role in my early days of learning my faith and beliefs. There are aunts and uncles and cousins who are part of the best family in the world! I love my cousins and I'm thankful for a chance to reach out and let them know they are loved. There are college friends who were lifesavers in more ways than one, who were there for late night chats and the days when I'd lock myself out of my dorm room. There are current co-workers, who have helped me learn my trade in the elementary schools, and much much more! There are friends that walked into our lives because of Brian's work with the State Patrol and Cencom, and his volunteer work with the fire station. Those people who still check in on us and make sure we're ok. The troopers who still drive by our house at night to make sure the bad guys stay away. And the fire department friends who still "blip" the siren at my girls and me if they see us in the yard. There are the friends who we've picked as family...the ones who have always been there for us and who I know will always be there for us no matter what.

And then there's the missing ones. My grandparents. My husband. My other dad Tom. Laurie's momma Nancy. The ones that I so badly wanted to make a card for, to send to them and know they were here. I'll still take a card down to my grandparents and leave it beside their grave. And Sherri still gets a card from us, just not with Tom's name this year. And I texted Laurie and we talked about her momma and what a great lady she was. And how I'd addressed her envelope before my heart sank and I realized she wouldn't be there to receive it. 

So as I continue with getting my cards completed, I will continue to think and be thankful and praise my Heavenly Father with thanks for an address book full of addresses. And I send prayers to those friends and family in Washington, Idaho, Oregon, California. Friends in Oklahoma and Texas and Maryland. Friends in Florida and Montana and Indiana. Missouri and Georgia and Nebraska. And even all the way over in Ikego, Japan (Hi, Sissy!!)

We are blessed with love from all over the map! And blessed with an amazing network of people right here in our hometown and people who love and care for us and support us. We are blessed! So, when you get our Christmas card, feel the love and joy and peace that the Duncan girls send. Know the prayers and the care and the thankfulness we share with you. And know that we sent God's love with every Christmas card we wrote! 

Here Comes the Sun

It's been raining cats and dogs (and maybe even elephants and hippos too!) the past couple weeks here in Washington. My backyard has become Duncan Pond thanks to Kubert Creek from the neighbors up the hill. Everything is drenched. Trees across the county have toppled over. Many of my friends have no power more often than they have power lately. There is water everywhere!! As of a few days ago, there's even water in my master bedroom thanks to the window leaking :/ Luckily my daddy will save the day and fix the window...as soon as it stops raining long enough to let him!  It's been a wet, soggy mess for weeks. The skies are gray, it seems like it's nighttime all day long, it's cold and wet and dreary. 

Except for a couple of mornings ago. The girls and I were hustling through our morning routine before leaving for school when suddenly, rays of sunshine were streaming in the front door window. Emerson ran into the kitchen with a huge smile on her face and yelled "Mommy! The sun is back!!" Amelia looked at her and said, "The sun never went anywhere. It's always there. It was just buried under some clouds. But it's always there, even when you can't see it." Emerson scrunched up her nose, tilted her head to the side, and asked, "So the sun is just like Jesus?" Amelia and I looked at each other and smiled and I said, "Yes, Em.  Just like Jesus."

The sun is always there, making its way around the world day to day. And even when it's cloudy and you can't see it through all the gray, it's there, waiting for the perfect break in the clouds to shine it's light on the world. 

The same is true for the other Son. Jesus. He is always there, walking His way through your day. And even when it's cloudy, and there is absolutely nothing going right, He's still there, waiting for the perfect break in your heart to shine into your life and keep you safe from the storm. 

Over my lifetime, I have seen storms. I have been to the point where I don't know what to do. I have relied on myself to fix everything. And I have failed. So I've needed helpers along the way. Helpers that have guided me down paths to get the assistance that I have needed.  I have mentioned before that I go to counseling. The person that I go to now is amazing and she is walking me through a healing process that has been eye-opening and life-changing. 

I have been stuck. And although I have taken baby steps forward, I tend to reach a point where I'm stuck. Or where I fall backwards and stumble and don't know how to keep my footing. So, being the strong and stubborn person I am, I try to pick myself up. And it just doesn't work. 

In my last session, we were walking through a few things. The sessions that we have are led by the Holy Spirit and He was leading me towards a particular life scenario that I needed to work through. I was asked "Do you see Angels?" In this particular scenario and I said "yes". She asked me where they were and I told her they were standing all around me in a circle. She asked me how that made me feel. I paused. A long time. Therapy is hard for me because there are two parts of me. The part of me that is dark and hurt and injured and dead and wanting to run away and disappear forever. And there's the part of me that wants to bury those ideas and not let anyone else know that I have those thoughts. So in my head, the latter me was formulating an answer that I thought she would want to hear. I was working on saying "I feel happy and safe and peaceful and I'm so glad they are there ." But...someone very dear to me had recently shared with me how important truth is so that healing can happen. So I looked her in the eyes and I told her "It makes me angry that they are there." In her most gentle voice she asked me why it made me angry. With tears streaming down my face I told her that I was angry they were there now, but that they couldn't be there to save me from what I had been through.  We worked through the rest of that, and eventually I realized that they were with me then also. In every single life moment, the Angels are there. And so is the Son!

Tears right now. And wanting to go back to the lies where I pretend everything is ok. Why am I sharing this? Why am I using this very personal example in my public blog? Because if I can save one person from walking down the path that I have been down, then I will share. I will share my thoughts and feelings so you know you're not alone. 

The Angels, and Jesus, and the sun...they are always there. There are things that cover them up, or things that block them out, but they are always there. Even in my darkest hours through my life. They are constant and good and warm and they are always there. I have faith that they have always been there, and will always be there. 

The sun is always there. The Son is always there. We only have to have faith that even when the clouds bury them in darkness, and the storms take over, they are there, waiting for just the right time to burst through the clouds and make everything right with the world again. The storm clouds will be there. It's not an easy path. But you are not alone in your journey. Jesus is there with you, even when you don't know He's there. Here comes the Son...to bring you peace and healing and love. Here comes the Son...

I Walk the Line

I was furious! I had been seeing my therapist for a while starting a few years ago and I was starting to get my Explanation of Benefits from my insurance company. It wasn't the copay that I was upset about. It wasn't my insurance coverage. No, the item on this sheet of paper that had me seeing red was...the diagnostic code. Written in the middle of the paper were the words "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." What? That was impossible. I checked to make sure they hadn't accidentally sent me someone else's paper. Nope. My name was printed at the top. I called my therapist and left a frantic message to her, imploring her to call me back as soon as possible. About an hour later, she was on the phone with me. I calmly explained to her that there must have been some mistake. That I just got my Explanation of Benefits and it said Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. There was a long silence and she replied with, "Yes?"

"Well, THAT can't be right! I don't have PTSD! I need you to change that."

"I can't change it. That's what you have."

She went on to explain my symptoms and asked if I had any questions. But I couldn't even think. Didn't even know what questions to ask. I quietly told her I didn't, hung up the phone, and snuck into the bathroom to collapse into a puddle on the floor and sob quietly to myself.

This couldn't be right. How embarrassing! Me? Diagnosed with a mental disorder? PTSD was reserved for those brave men and women in combat who fight for our freedoms. The soldiers who see atrocities that my brain can't even fathom. The military personnel who watch their buddies or commanders die right before their eyes. I couldn't possibly have PTSD. I didn't do anything to deserve this! Nothing happened to me like the things that people who should be diagnosed with PTSD go through. 

My next session with my therapist was painful. I cried. I sobbed. I denied that I had PTSD. I told her that was impossible. And I cried some more. She handed me a list...a list of the symptoms of PTSD:

1) Reliving the event/re-experiencing the symptoms

2) Avoiding situations that remind you of the event

3) Negative changes in beliefs and feelings

4) Feeling keyed up (hyperarousal)

The bullets that were under each number described me. I had difficulty sleeping. I experienced flashbacks. I had trouble concentrating. I avoided situations. Nightmares plagued my sleep. Certain things could trigger me into a panic attack. My world came crashing down around me. I was horrified to admit that I had PTSD. 

I am healing. My nightmares are less and less. My triggers don't send me reeling. I'm sleeping better. I am healing. 

And then, new demons began to plague and torment me. Knowing that I was not at my strongest and healthiest, the enemy began a spiritual attack on my soul. Convincing me that I was worthless. That I was a terrible mom. That I was incompetent in my job. And for a while I believed them. I was confused. I felt worthless. Sometimes, I felt like the only way I was going to find peace might be to exit this world. Give my girls a chance at a better life. And when you find yourself in that place, it is terrifying. Everywhere you look there is chaos and hopelessness. Everything you hear is a voice telling you that you are nothing. That no one would miss you. That your are worthless. And I almost gave in to those tricks. 

But faith! Faith pulled me through. Amazing family and friends pulled me through. Staring into the eyes of my children pulled me through. Reading my Bible and taking communion and journaling pulled me through. 

I am not completely free from those demons, but I am in a much better place. I know that I am not alone in my battles. That God is with me, right by my side, and that He will never leave me. That I have a wonderful team of family and friends here on this earth that help me walk through. That pray for the girls and me. That will be there to remind me that I am so loved by my Heavenly Father. I am blessed! So very blessed!

Last night, Emerson and I were walking to McDonalds while waiting for Amelia to get done with dance. As we were walking, our path crossed an older lady pushing a cart. She was dirty and looked tired and she was talking to herself. As we were approaching her, Emerson started to sing a little Bible song that she had learned in school. I started singing with her. As we approached the woman, Emerson kept singing and I silently prayed for this woman. She was talking to herself, swearing and looking so very agitated. And my heart broke for her. Experiencing PTSD symptoms and the spiritual attack pieces, I could understand maybe a little of what was going through her head. It is a dark and scary place to be.  

We kept walking and praying for her, and then I thought about the line. The very fine line between this woman and me. Without people who are willing to fight for me. Without the countless people that have prayed for me over the years. Without the power of the God that I have faith in. That woman could have been me. There were times that I just wanted to stay in bed all day and hide from the world. There are times that it took every inch of my being to not put my girls in the truck and run away from everything. There were times in the middle of the night that my anxiety and flashbacks were so strong that I would have given anything to make it stop. There's a fine line between this woman and me. 

But I walk this line, and I fight everyday to stay on the OK side of that line. With the help of my Father, and with the help of Jesus, and with the filling of the Holy Spirit, I walk the line. And they walk with me. As I think about my experiences, and as I remember how it feels to be in those moments where I slipped below that line, my heart aches. My heart aches for the many that deal with PTSD alone. My heart aches for those that walk the streets and look "crazy" but just need a boost, a support system, and a knowledge of a loving God that can carry them through. I know that I need to do something. I need to help! I need to pay forward the love and kindness and faith that was instilled in me, carrying me from dark moment to dark moment, and helping me walk the line. It is my calling to spread the word about PTSD perhaps, and help people understand the horror of that, and then the awfulness of being under spiritual attack. For honestly, I believe we all walk the line. And I hope and pray that I can help people walk theirs. It can be a lonely, terrifying walk. And not all people are as blessed as I am with love and support and faith. 

I say this often, but BE KIND! For we are all fighting battles. And we are all walking our own lines. Be kind, and have compassion, and pray for those of us who are struggling with the line. And reach out for help if you are the one struggling. It's hard to admit to others that you think you're crazy. It's hard to face the fact that you are maybe not mentally at your best. It's hard to admit or even know that you are under attack from the enemy. Don't be afraid to ask for help, or reach out to a friend or a pastor or anyone! Don't feel crazy! We are all fighting battles that no one knows anything about. Why do we do this? We should be here on this earth to love and support each other. We should be ok reaching out for help before it gets to the point where we are below the line. Where we are drowning and can't get out. And we should also be ok reaching out and helping the ones that are struggling. 

Be kind. And if you are struggling, continue to walk the line, and try to stay on the OK side of that line. And if you're close, give me a call. I've been on the not OK side. And I don't want anyone to get on that side and silently suffer. God will rescue you! God loves you! And I do too!

Ready or Not

On my quest to be happier and healthier, I have taken to not eating during my lunch break at work, but walking. I shove my earbuds into my ears, play some relaxing music with a good message, and walk a quick loop through housing to clear my head and get me prepared to face the afternoon. My heart rate gets up a bit, I get some time away from my job that can be oh so stressful, I get to have my soul uplifted with the songs I listen to, sometimes the sun is shining on my face, and I have time alone. But I also have time with God. 

I don't think it's a secret that I am a Christian. I believe in God. I have since I was a little girl. I was baptized as a baby. I went to a parochial school from Kindergarten through Eighth Grade. I have attended the church I am currently a member at since I was little. I have been religious for a long time. Over the last few years, my faith has ebbed and flowed between strongly convicted to barely hanging on by a thread. I will admit that I have struggled on my journey with my faith and with God through all of this. This has been especially true since September 30th, 2010. Five years ago this very night...

There are many details of that night that are forever burned into my heart and my soul. And going back to the PTSD that I mentioned yesterday, the memories of that night flood into my mind like it was yesterday. Several times tonight I have stopped myself from flowing into a panic attack. I have dropped to my knees and asked God for strength to push past a certain time on the clock. I have journaled and breathed and sang praises and talked to my Heavenly Father and asked Him for strength. I am strong in the Lord!

I mentioned yesterday that I don't do emotion well. So, my daily walk today was flooded with emotion sitting just on the surface. I finally slowed my walking, closed my eyes and asked "Father, how am I going to get through the coming month?" You see, I dread flipping the calendar. As soon as school starts, I begin to panic about October. I have never dealt with October well since 2010. One year I had a giant seizure. One year I ran away. One year I was drunk in a church.  By the way, I want to right now apologize to anyone who was impacted by any of those events. I just don't know how to do emotion well. And this is all BIG emotion. 

This year? I walk. And I talk to my God. And I asked Him "how am I ever going to survive this month?" Because seizures and running and drunkeness are not the answers. They didn't fix anything. They maybe helped in the moment. Were a protective mechanism for getting past the day. But I still am here today wondering how to deal with October. Feeling the panic. Feeling my chest get tight and my breathing speed up. Feeling my cheeks get flushed and the tears welling in my eyes. Remembering the words that were spoken and the pain in my heart as Brian admitted to me the awful things he had done. I'm not going into details here. Many of you know. Many of you maybe don't. But I feel my focus isn't supposed to be on the tragic story. It isn't about sharing gory details of what happened. It isn't dwelling on the past and the horrific things that transpired in my living room on September 30th, 2010. 

When I was walking and asked God how I was going to survive October? He had my answer...blog! Tell your story. Share with your audience your thoughts and feelings. Your trials and tribulations. Be a beacon of hope for those that are struggling. Be a hand that reaches out and saves someone from drowning. Take your experiences and lend your story to others so that they will not suffer. 

My journey the past five years has been wild. The girls and I have been on a roller coaster of emotion. We have gone from the lowest of the lows to the highest of the highs and back and forth again and again. And in the last week, I have hit the highest point ever of those highs! I have reached a new level of faith and freedom and it feels so good! It is so good, that I believe that it is my mission from God to share what the last five years have been. So that others may know that they are not alone. And that their story isn't done!

I thought many times that my story was done. That this was going to be how my story would end. When you're a little girl planning out your future, none of the stuff from the last five years was in that story. There just aren't stories with room for chapters filled with deceit and lies, assault and broken-ness, suicide and struggle. My story shouldn't have included torment and anguish and demons. But it did! My life certainly wasn't the romantic comedy I had always envisioned. It was never supposed to be the horror story that has been laid out over the last five years. There was no place in my story for being a widowed mom. No chapters filled with attacks from Satan and my own personal hell on earth. But it happened. 

So, I'm here in my living room, five years to the day from that night, running through scenes that continue to bounce around in my head. If I look across my living room I can see Brian standing there as if it was yesterday. And before, had I been presented with this opportunity to have him stand before me, I would have been furious. I would have wanted to give him a piece of my mind and say all of the things I never got to say. To ask the whys and what happeneds. To curse him for ruining so many lives in a series of events. 

But tonight, God has a different plan for me. Peace!  Forgiveness!  Joy! He heals my wounds and dries my tears. He casts out the demons and cradles me and the girls in His loving arms. And you know what else? He gives me the grace and love that I need to continue to write my story. God and I work together, not to rewrite the past. Before I looked at my healing process as rewriting the past. But that cannot happen. Those chapters, filled with the horror and sorrow and anguish and fight? I can now see that those are my blessings. The last five years was desperately needed to determine my place in this world and the path that I am supposed to be on. I needed to go through everything that I went through to get me to this moment right here, right now. The romantic comedy that I had in mind? The horror story that I thought I got stuck with? Neither of those is what God had or has in mind for me. He has walked me through the fires, and has brought me out the other side so that I can write my story. So I can share my story and help others to learn to write their stories. I know that God has a purpose in all of this mess. He sees me in the bottom of my mess, not knowing what to do with emotion and trapped and tarnished and panicky. And He pulls me out of all that, washes me clean, and gives me the tools to write my story. He gives me the tools to share with others so they don't have to go for five years of suffering before they are released and are free. With the help of God, I am writing my story! And how exciting it is to know that the best chapters haven't even been written yet!

So I will be blogging more often, or trying to, and telling my story a piece at a time. Maybe there will be a piece that you recognize. Maybe there will be a chapter you have read before in your own life. Maybe you will see a similar genre unfolding in your own story. My hope? My prayer? That something you read will help you out from under your own oppression. That a piece of what I write will save you from the depths of whatever it is you're going through. That maybe, you also will realize that you have a purpose and that your path is leading you right where you need to be!

Ready or not! Life comes at you with a myriad of challenges and blessings. Use them! The challenges AND the blessings, for you are writing the greatest story ever told! YOUR story! I don't mean to spoil the ending, but I know that my story will end in victory and I hope yours will also!

Let's Get Together

Last Saturday I had the opportunity to take part in the celebration of the life of Tom Deem. If you have read my blog before, I wrote a post about him in July as I was honored to write a tribute for his funeral service. He passed away in July after a brief battle with mesothelioma, but continues to live on in our hearts. As I mentioned before, Tom's passion was motorcycles. He was the president of the local Antique Motorcycle Club and they pulled together a memorial ride in honor of Tom last weekend. It was the coolest thing ever! Watching tough guys in leather getting teary and honoring one of their fallen comrades. Coming together to support Sherri and the girls. Taking a moment out of their lives to ride and love and come together as a community for Tom. I didn't expect to be so emotional, but I was! Watching the tears, being part of the pre-ride prayer and the blessing of the bikes, listening to the rumble of the bikes as they started off on their ride, listening to the stories of Tom while we stood around the campfire at the BBQ after the run, hearing my own girls tell me again how much they miss him, but can still hear his laugh and see his smile. The biker community loved and respected Tom. And from what I can tell they are careful to watch over and take care of Sherri and the girls also. This community of people, coming together, to celebrate a wonderful man and to share love. What a blessing!

I have thought a lot about community lately. It maybe started with Tom's ride. Thinking about the people that were a part of that group. Thinking about the bonds that were formed

 within that group. How they help and rely on each other. How they take time for each other. How they love and support and care for each other. 

I have struggled a bit over the past few months. My first instinct when I am struggling? It isn't to reach out for help. It's to pull away. To push everyone away and isolate myself. I just don't know how to do emotion very well so to save face in front of people I push away the very people that I so desperately need. In the midst of one of these moments, one friend told me that God intended for us to be in community. To not be alone and suffer without assistance. That word: community again. 

I had a teacher friend in my office today. We talked about her kids and the struggles that she is having with behaviors in her class. We brainstormed and talked and tried to come up with a solution. And as I walked away from that conversation I thought of the whole "it takes a villiage" idea. The fact that there is a community needed to raise and teach these kiddos and if even one link is missing from that community, we end up with kids who are lost and confused and naughty and not ready to learn. They act up and act out and we are left with frustrated kids and frustrated parents and frustrated teachers. They need all of the adults in their lives to come together to help guide them through, or push and pull them through if they are not a willing participant in the process. Community. 

Tonight, I went to my first weigh in after re-joining WeightWatchers meetings. I have been frustrated with how things are going with my weight loss (or lack of weight loss is more like it) so I joined meetings. And it was magical! I lost 10.6 pounds in my first week back! So proud of myself! When they asked what the secret to my successful week was? My answer was community! I needed the love and support of people in a meeting who knew my struggle and were willing to guide me through this process (or more likely push and pull me through as a sometimes unwilling participant.) Community!

So I stand on the verge of October. My heart races with fear and anxiety. My soul wounds surrounding this month run deep. I love the fall and all it has to offer, but I despise October, for that was the month when our lives came to a screeching halt. I am diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and October is a trigger for all of the awfulness that that disorder entails. Just thinking about turning the calendar makes my stomach upset and my heart race. How am I ever going to survive? How am I ever going to get through? Community. I belong to a wonderful community. Several actually. My community at work. My family and friends community. My community within my church.  My WeightWatchers community.  My community that I am a part of on Facebook and through people that read my blogs.  And even that rough and tough biker community. I know there are lots of people that love and care for me and the girls. That will give us the space we need when we need it, but will be right there to catch us when we fall, hold our hand when we are scared, hold us when we cry, love us when the day is rough, and just be there, silently supporting us and holding us up in loving prayer to our Heavenly Father. 

God truly intended for us to be in community with others. And I rejoice and thank Him dearly for all of the wonderful people He has placed in mine!

Be thankful for your communities...and be active in them also! You never know who you might need to bolster up. And you never know who you might need as a part of your community. It could even be a rough and tough biker. 

I love you, Tom!  I'm so honored to be in his family's community! And it's so good to have a guardian angel in mine!

You Didn't Love Her

Grey's Anatomy is one of my favorite shows. It is the one show that I have watched from the beginning and I rarely miss an episode. I love the love stories, the drama, the medical aspect, the characters. I laugh when they laugh and cry when they cry. And often, there are some very profound, and very poignant moments on the show. Oftentimes, there are quotes that I search for after the show is over, hoping to ponder their meanings. I write them out and think of how I can apply the quote to something in my own life, and oftentimes I am successful. 

One episode in 2007 caught my attention. I remember it vividly. It was October 2007. It was stormy that night and Brian was volunteering at the fire station for the night. I tucked my five-month-old Amelia into bed and turned on Grey's. One of the cases in this episode was the storyline of a woman who was a runner and losing weight to please her boyfriend. (Weight is a touchy subject for me so this could be another reason this episode stuck with me.) She was very sick and needed surgery but she didn't survive the surgery because her body was too weak from her extreme weight loss. Callie, one of the doctors, yelled at the woman's boyfriend, basically blaming him for her death and his push for her to be perfect for him. I remember listening to Callie's words and thinking, "Wow! That is so harsh! I'm lucky to have someone like Brian who loves me for me." I watched the rest of the episode and tucked myself into bed after it was over. 

Fast forward exactly three years to the day, to when our lives began to unravel. Brian died and things came up and I remember sitting on the couch sobbing through the night. In the back of my head, I kept flashing through several things. Panic at what I was going to do. Sadness thinking about Brian being gone and the loss of life as I knew it. And then, this quote from Callie. At the time, I thought her quote was appalling. How could she? How could she use those words against anyone? But they started to ring true for me.

Throughout my journey that has brought me to where I stand in this moment, this quote has come around more than once as I work through the grief process. Sometimes, I read it and immediately dismiss it as not true. Other times, I feel like someone could have spoken these words to Brian on my behalf. What are these words?

My process has brought me to a place where my life is amazing. I love where I am at in my journey and most days find myself grateful to be where I'm at. Today, for example, was great! Seahawks Training camp with my bestie and my girlies. Got to chat, if even for a brief moment, and get hugs from my other bestie. Texted with my sissy who should be home again soon. Had an end-of-day chat with my mama. Played with our chickens with the girls. Life today was good. But, even today, throughout the goodness of today, there was the constant undercurrent of what today was. August 5th. Today would have been our 9th anniversary. He's now been gone more years than we were married. And the Callie quote from Grey's came around one more time. 

Do I believe that he didn't love me? Do I believe that he simply married me so he wouldn't be alone? I don't know. Honestly, I don't know if I really, truly think that, or if that's what I have told myself to help myself survive the pain of him opting out of our marriage and out of our lives. But that last sentence. The last part of that quote is the most important to me: "...you don't destroy people you love." That right there is the part that I struggle with in terms of that quote. You don't destroy people you love. 

The good news in all of this? He didn't destroy me! He knocked me down for a while. And thinking of him, especially on days like August 5th, might take my breath away for a second, but he did not destroy me. I am stronger than ever. My girls are stronger than ever. We are a happy family of three. We have amazing family, the best of friends, a wonderful support system...he may or may not have loved me. I honestly don't care one way or the other. I love my girls. I love our life. And although I will always have the undercurrent of soul memories like August 5th, he did not destroy me. We are survivors, and we will continue to carry on, for our love for our friends and family is strong. And we work hard every day to build up those that we love. 

So, reflect on your relationships for a minute. Think about anniversaries and your partners, family and friends. Even think about strangers on the street. God's greatest command is to love one another. Think about your words and actions. Think about how you treat others in your life. And always remember...you don't destroy people that you love.  

Thank You for Sharing Him...

Dear Sherri, Miranda, and Rachel,

I am so honored that you asked me to write a remembrance for Tom. He meant the world to me, was like my other dad, another grandpa to my girls. My heart is broken thinking about what life is going to be like without him. When I started thinking about what I was going to write, I thought about all the avenues I could take. A poem? Nope. Tom was not really the poetry type. An essay? Nope. There is no way an essay would be able to capture the essence of what Tom meant to the people sitting in these pews today. How in the world could I ever get through this task? How could I capture Tom and what he meant to everyone here? How would I ever find words that would honor the man that so many loved and adored? Anything I could ever write would not be good enough. I worried. I stressed. I cried. I panicked. And then right when I was thinking about giving up, calling you and saying that this task was far too difficult and I just couldn't follow through, a Harley passed through the intersection at Fairgrounds and Central Valley Road, revved its engine, and flew down the road past our house. I smiled, with tears streaming down my face, closed my eyes, and pictured Tom, on his Harley, maybe flipping off the driver that had just cut him off, and zooming off into the sunset. And just like that, all the words I needed were right there in my mind. 

Hebrews 13:16 says, "And do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased." As we were leaving the hospice house after saying goodbyes to a man that I loved so, and I was hugging Sherri, the words that I wanted to say to her were lost. I wanted so badly to console her. To share some great healing words, but I couldn't think of anything. I prayed for God to give me the words to help her at that very second. I squeezed her tight, held her close and whispered, "Thank you so much for sharing him with us." Because that is truly what happened. Her family shared Tom with so many people and I know I speak for everyone when we all thank the Deem girls collectively for giving us the opportunity to know and love Tom Deem. He was a loving husband, a doting father, and the best grandpa to little Edie. He was a true family man, loving and celebrating the successes of his family with each tender moment. 

After being a family man, he was a biker. Many of us will remember him, on a motorcycle of some sort, leather jacket with patches, and the biggest grin on his face. He loved riding Harleys. He loved working on and riding antique motorcycles. He loved taking rides on his motorcycles and would often call buddies, friends, and family to join him and Sherri on impromptu rides. He knew more backroads than anyone and just when you would think he had gotten you lost for good, you would come out and end up right where you needed to be.  He loved to tell of the time he went to Sturgis and there were so many bikes he needed to wait until they all cleared out so he could find his bike. Sometimes, Sherri would lose her spot on the bike to Rachel or Miranda as we rode to Pateros or Mossyrock or any of the other many adventures together. So, from all of Tom's biker friends and family, thank you for sharing him!

Tom also loved to travel, on a motorcycle or in a motorhome, in a hotel or in a tent. He loved camping and being with friends and family. Many memories of making beer at Dosewallips (and maybe drinking too much), the tents blowing away at Pateros, teasing us about rattlesnakes in the trees at Alta Lake, and tricking him by making hobo pies with a combination of everything from dinner that night. So, from all of Tom's camping friends and family, thank you for sharing him. 

Tom was a man with a gruff exterior. He burped. He farted. And he didn't care who was around to hear it. When anyone would introduce someone new to Tom, it usually came with a warning: "So, Tom likes to burp. And fart. And he might eat off your plate at dinner, but he's a really nice guy!"  Tom always carried a fork in his pocket so he could be ready to eat at a moment's notice. He would always ask "Ya got your fightin' gear?" and grin his mustached grin when we was teasing you. And he always shared that no matter how full you were, there was always room for dessert because that went to another place in your stomach. When dinner was over, he'd always encourage everyone to keep eating because whatever we didn't eat "would be in your omelet at breakfast the next morning." So, from all of the people who knew and loved the little things about Tom, thank you for sharing him. 

There are a thousand more things I could share and remember about Tom Deem. How he was such a gentleman (except for the whole burping and farting thing). How he was so kind (except for when he might have to flip someone off for being a butthead, as he might call them). How he would do anything for anyone at anytime. For all the little memories that everyone has of Tom, thank you for sharing him!

Losing Tom so quickly from our lives ripped a hole in many of our hearts. We all have the special memories and stories of Tom locked away in our hearts and in our souls. Stories and memories that will get us all through the days, weeks, and months ahead. Memories of his voice, his laugh, his basketball belly, the way he would suck on his teeth, the sparkle in his eye when he was talking about motorcycles, or Sherri, or Miranda and Rachel, or Edie. Treasure him in your hearts! Tell your stories of him to each other! Remind the Deem girls often what an amazing, wonderful man their father was. Continue to share him with each other! One day, we will be reunited! One day we will see him again! And I'm sure that he will greet us all, a smile wide across his mustached face, a leather jacket in hand, a fork in his pocket, and a hug for those he has left behind. God blessed us all when he shared Tom with us. So, to our Heavenly Father, we all say thank you for sharing him!

The Greatest of These is Love...

I am a sinner. A terrible person. I steal. I cheat. I lie. I don't always treat people the way I should treat them. I gossip. I say things I wish I could take back. I kill spiders when I find them in my house. I don't tithe the way I'm supposed to. I don't read my Bible regularly. Sometimes I forget to pray. I complain. I worry. I'm really an anxious mess sometimes. I'm not the greatest mom at times. I don't always keep promises. I am a terrible person!

I am also a Christian. So, I know that I am a horrible person and I know that I'm a sinner. And the beautiful thing? I also know that I am forgiven! I am the daughter of a King that loves me very much. God knew that I was a sinner a long time ago. Before I was even born. And He sent His one and only son Jesus to die on the cross and take away my sins. By grace I have been saved, not by my own works. This is so comforting to know. Out of all of the awful things that I have done in my life, I am still saved. I believe in my Lord Jesus Christ as my Savior. I believe that He paid the ultimate price for me on that cross. And that it is my job as a Christian to accept the glorious love of Christ, and to share the message and the promise of hope with my fellow human beings. 

It is not my job to point out other peoples' sins. It is not my job to condemn others for their choices. It is not my business to know what my friends and family do in terms of sinning. It is not my job to worry about the sins of others. All I can do is share with them the good news that they are forgiven! They are loved! And, if they choose to accept it, there is a place for them in heaven. 

We, as Christians, do a terrible job of this, in my opinion. And never has this truth been more prevalent to me than in the last couple days when the Supreme Court of the United States of America repealed the laws banning same-sex marriages. My Facebook page has been blown up with two very different camps. There are those that are celebrating with the LBGT community in their victory. And there are those that are condemning the decision and calling this as a sign that Jesus is coming back again soon. I have read comment after comment, post after post from a whole lot of people. And I am saddened by what I see. People are so mean to each other. People are saying horrible, terrible things about fellow human beings. This isn't what Jesus asked us, as Christians, to do. This isn't how I picture Jesus wanting us to behave towards each other. 

What do I believe? People want to know which side of the fence you sit in. People want to know. Are you a supporter of the decision? Do you think it's right? Do you paste your Facebook page with rainbows and celebrate equality? Or do you believe in the preservation of marriage as one man and one woman? Do you quote Bible passages and point out their sinful ways and demand them to repent!

Why do I have to be on either side of the fence? Why can't I just sit on the fence and show both sides love? Offer them my hope and prayers for the future. 

Where do I stand? I believe in marriage as the union of one man and one woman. That many times in the Bible God spoke of a woman leaving her parents and joining her husband. So what does this mean for me when I hear the Supreme Court has allowed homosexual couples to marry? Do I grab my pitchfork and torch and go after them? So I eye "them" evilly just knowing they're going to turn my friends and family gay? No. It means that I love them. And pray for them. I don't judge, as it is not my place.  I don't hate. They are not impacting me and my life. I just love them and pray for them. Why on earth would I do that? Do I have any idea how God feels about them? Yes! God loves them! God loves them so much that He already sent His son to die on the cross for their sins. All of them. And all of mine too. For we all sin and fall short of the glory of God. Thank goodness for such a loving and forgiving God! I only hope that we can be good models of Him as we Christians walk through this life, and especially this time in our society. 

Sadly, I have seen many that are not choosing this opportunity to love and witness to the masses. I happened to be around some people when they found out the ruling. The words I heard from them broke my heart. Derrogatory names. Hate and unkind words. It was so disturbing to me that I excused myself to another room and I cried. My heart broke as the scene echoed in my head. People that are strong Christians, people that worship God and are devout in their faith, were saying horrible, appalling things. And all I could think about was what if you were talking to or about Jesus?

Who did Jesus hang out with? Prostitutes. Tax collectors. Liars. Cheats. He knew that these were the people that needed Him the most! Sinners! Like all of us. Sinners! And I realize that there is a fine line I am dancing around here as I try not to judge the Christians that were judging others. The bottom line? As a Christian...as a sinner...I believe it is my calling to witness to others. Am I to walk up to a gay couple and point out their wrong doings? Proclaim to them that gay marriage is a sin and that they are signing themselves up for eternal damnation for their actions? I will not do this!  For I too am a sinner. And I believe that I serve a kind, loving Father who loves me dearly. My God forgives my lying. He forgives my cheating. He forgives me when I squash spiders. And He forgives others who sin. He forgives the homosexual who enters into marriage with another of the same sex. And He loves all of the sinners listed above. He loves them more than anything. 

Is it my job to judge? No. It is not, for I am just as guilty of atrocities as the next person. It is my job to love. And it is my job to pray. Matthew 22:36-40 states the greatest commandment of all: Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” 37 Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ 38 This is the first and greatest commandment. 39 And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ 40 All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” Love! It is our job to love. So I will love them. And I will pray for them. And I will know that it is not my job to judge anyone. 

Why did I have such a strong emotional reaction? One person said, "If you have that strong of a reaction to this topic, then you should probably keep quiet about it." So that was what I did. I went to another room and wept. I didn't say anything to the people that were using horrible words. But I cried because I have students I have worked with that I worry about meeting this sort of attitude. I have little boys that don't feel like little boys. And I have little girls that don't feel like little girls. They come to me sad and confused and not sure what to do. And my hearts breaks for them because I know that they will meet people like the ones that I encountered. They will struggle their whole lives with their questioning. They will walk through life feeling alone and unsupported, only to have someone, a Christian perhaps, call them a "fairy" or point out that they are sinning and are an abomination to God. And I weep for them. I weep for my children, both at work and in my home. Life is hard enough without being ripped apart and torn down by others. This issue goes so much deeper than this topic. People are just mean and rude and so intolerant. You don't have to agree with gay marriage! I don't! But I'm still going to love and respect those that do. Love one another! The greatest commandment of all! Hate the sin, but love the sinner! All sinners...liars. Cheaters. Murderers. And yes, even homosexuals. For we are all fighting battles. We are all trying desperately to navigate this world and to deal with everything that life throws at us. Atrocities and heartbreak, cancer and suicide, awful terrible things all around us. We are all fighting battles. Let's let the battles person to person be one less battle to worry about. Hate the sin, but love the sinner. I hope that someone uses this phrase when they are publicly shaming me for my sins. Because I am a sinner! I do horrible, terrible things. Everyday, I do something that goes against God's word. Every. Single. Day. And yet, I am saved! I think that my friends and family still think I'm an ok person. And I don't ask that you hear my lying and think it's ok. I wouldn't want you to condone me stealing if you knew that I was stealing. But you know what I would hope for? Rather than publicly shaming me and calling me a horrible name, I would hope that you would love me. Hold me close in your heart, love me, and pray for me. 

What an opportunity we have to witness to others, every day! We can choose to be a shining example of Christ's love and simply love others! Be kind. For we are all fighting battles...

The End of An Era

I love to watch reruns of the TV show Friends. I don't like to watch much TV so after I tuck my girls in at night, I put my DVDs in and spend my night laughing and watching these six friends and their journey through life as a close-knit group. Last night I put the disk in and pushed play. It was the one where Chandler and Monica decide to move in together and Rachel thinks they're all going to be roommates. Monica had to explain to her that she is indeed asking her to move out. Rachel and Monica both cried and shared a moment and both declared that this was the end of an era. And I cried...for Monica. For Rachel. For myself. 

You see, my school right now is experiencing the end of an era. One of our teachers, who has been with our school for 38 years, is retiring. This afternoon, we gathered together to celebrate her career, her accomplishments, her greatness. And it was glorious! Perfect! Everything that the party planners envisioned happened. The food was perfect, the fellowship was wonderful, the surprises were kept surprises until the end. It was a beautiful, wonderful tribute to a great teacher, a great person, a great friend. 

My friend. I have gone through retirements before. Several teachers, great amazing teachers, have walked through the doors of our school and into their retirement years, leaving behind a full staff of people that love and care for them. And I have shed tears at many of those retirement parties. This one was different. I didn't cry at the party. Inside my heart was beaming for my friend. Looking around the room and seeing all of the people that love her and care for her. That was the best moment ever. And I couldn't be sad! I couldn't be sad knowing that this remarkable woman had impacted so many people! Students. Parents. Staff. Family. Friends. She has altered the lives of so many! She has bettered so many people! She has had her hand in changing hearts and minds and molding people into being amazing individuals. Whether that is encouraging students to work harder to succeed or walking teachers through tough situations that make them better professionals.

I have been honored to grow ever so close with this person. I have worked with her for the past thirteen years. My whole career thus far. I was a new SLP that was introduced to this school. And I was intimidated by her. I had heard she was amazing. That she was a champion for her students. And I quickly found out how true that was. She was amazing.  She is amazing.  And I admired her from afar for a few years. And then I started talking to her. And pretty soon we were eating lunch together every day. And then I was telling her everything. Sharing with her about my life and getting to know her. I adored her! She was incredible! I quickly knew that I was going to have to pay attention to this one, for she was very wise, not only about school topics, but about life in general. She and I began to be bonded in several ways and I was so thankful. When I think about stories to share about our time together, there are many that flood into my heart and head. Our first IEP meeting together. How she saved me from a difficult student in her calm, firm miracle ways. How she tried so hard to have her daughter and I be friends and we didn't listen, but now we also share an amazingly close friendship. How she announced to the staff at a meeting after open house that I was pregnant with Amelia. And how I decided it was also appropriate for her to announce my pregnancy with Emerson. How when Amelia was born she held her and gazed into her eyes and loved her and was the best other grandma in the world. How both of my girls adore her and how she adores them right back. How I know I can go to her classroom with protocols and brainstorm testing with kids. How in meetings together she and I can lock eyes and have an entire conversation with each other without saying a word. How she rushed to my side the night that Brian died and sat up with me all night long, holding me on the couch and letting me sob, and often crying right along with me. How she walked and guided and learned and helped me over the course of our years after Brian died. How she introduced me again to her daughter and son and husband and they took my girls and me into their hearts as a part of their family. And there are a thousand more memories that I cherish in my heart forever. 

But another memory was etched into my heart tonight. One of her old students came to the party tonight. When the floor was opened up for stories and memories and words of praise for her, this student jumped right in. He praised her for making him the man he is today. He reflected on their time together in class. He hugged her and cried with her and thanked her for all she had done for him. And he turned and he thanked us, a room full of teachers he didn't know, for our service to kids. And a new memory was made. I will forever remember that moment because I want that! I want to be the kind of teacher that she is! And I already credit my friend for making me a better SLP over my 13 years. She has molded me and shaped me into being a better teacher for my students. But, I still want to be just like her when I grow up. That's the kind of teacher she is! I want to impact my students and parents and colleagues the way she has over her 38 years in this profession. I want to change kids' lives. I want parents to remember me as an advocate for my students. I want to impact colleagues in a positive way. I want to be someone who has students come back in 25 years and tell me that they are who they are today because of me!

Our jobs are so hard! And they get harder all of the time. But all that melted away today as I watched this teacher and this student interact and embrace. Our basic job, when we take away the testing and curriculum and paperwork and the things that make our jobs virtually impossible, is to raise these kids, raise these families, and raise each other. To be the best we can be and help our students be the best they can be. So one more lesson from my dear sweet friend: be there, listen, help make these kids into the adults that will come back and thank me for making them who they are.

An end of an era. At the close of the party, I got into my truck to drive home,

and made it about 100 yards down the road and sobbed. My heart is so happy tonight! Being able to give my friend the send off that she deserves makes me completely happy. But my heart is also breaking knowing that I will begin to navigate school life without my friend, without my person. That I will be on my own, much like the students that we raise and send on to better things. So, perhaps it's time for me to grow up. Step up into her shoes (as tiny as my feet are in her BIG shoes) and be the start of the next era. Because that student's speech changed my thinking and changed my heart. This is the end of an era for my friend and for our school. But what a God-given opportunity for me to change my perspective, love on my school babies, and know that maybe, just maybe, I can be the beginning of the next era. 

I love you, my friend, with all my heart. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me! I am eternally grateful that our paths have crossed. I'm grateful that you adopted me and molded me and worked with me, perhaps to prepare me for just this occasion. God blessed me with you, so that I may bless others the way you have blessed so many! I am a better person for knowing you! I am so happy for you that you will get to rest and relax! Job well done, good and faithful servant! May God bless you always and forever!

The end of an era...so a new era can begin!

I Am a Teacher

There is a lot of unrest in the schools in Washington State right now. The demands of teaching are increasing while the resources are dwindling. Every year we hear promises of things the State is going to do to make our jobs easier. And yet every year there seems to be more added to the pile that makes our jobs harder.

After many years of festering anger and frustration, the pot is starting to come to a boil. Teachers and school staff and parents are done. Fed up. We can't handle one more thing. 

There are several issues that have been brought into the discussion. Pay is one. The people of the State is Washington asked that teachers get a Cost of Living Adjustment every year. And every year we hear how there's no funding. Another issue is class size. The people of the State of Washington asked that class sizes in schools be lowered so that teachers don't have unbelievable amounts of children in their classrooms and so that they can give the children the individualized attention that so many of them need and crave. We are also fed up with Common Core and testing and the new difficulties that these assessments have brought to educators and students alike. Did you know that the state wants to tie the scores that my students receive on these standard tests to my teacher evaluation?  27% of my evaluation would be tied to how well my students perform on one high-stakes assessment.  We are also hoping that the state leaves our health insurance alone and that we have the ability within our district to choose the health plan that we want. I think those are the main points. There are probably more I am not remembering. And as teachers in the state of Washington, we are upset. 

So, we voted to strike. A one-day walkout within our district in a sea of rolling walkouts across the state to show the State Legislature that we are serious and need to be listened to. That they need to start funding education. That they need to start treating the teachers and staff and our children like investments into the future of this great state and not afterthoughts in the great juggling of the budget.

So, May 7th was our day. Our day to walkout and take action. And as I fretted and thought about the activities of the day and the time leading up to the vote even, and what was planned, I began to think. And I began to pray. And I may be putting myself out there in a negative light and may be looked down upon by my peers, but the day we sat in that gym and voted to walkout, I voted NO! Selfishly, I thought of my own children at home. I thought of how I am a widowed mom of two little girls that depend on me for their needs and wants. And I thought about the paycheck that I get, and how desperately I need that paycheck, no matter what the amount is. I have bills and a mortgage and debt that my husband left me with and I panicked. And I voted NO. Not because I don't agree that we need change of some kind because we desperately do. But because I need to be paid. I need that job. I need MY job. 

So then schedules started coming out about what we were going to do for our walkout. What activities we had planned. And I ignored them...selfishly. I had other plans. 

I had plans to take my kids to school. You see, I am a public school teacher. But my children are enrolled in private school. Why? Is it because I don't trust our teachers in CK School District? Not at all! Every year I contemplate bringing the girls to the school where I teach. But I don't. I choose to not only pay my taxes but also to pay tuition for private school. Why? Because I get to drop my girls off at a school that does not strictly follow Common Core. They don't give the kids the Smarter Balance Assessment. They don't do Standards Based Grading. They teach the kids what they want to teach them! They get to teach to their interests and passions, not to a high stakes test! Another reason? Amelia is in a second grade class with 14 students. 14! If she were in public school she would most likely be one of 25!  I would drop off my student with a teacher who was underpaid and overworked and most likely pushed to her maximum.  So, I choose to drop her off in a classroom with 14 students, where she gets individualized attention, and can grow and thrive in her environment.

I had plans to take my kids to school and pick them up from school. This was more important to me than participating in the walkout. Why? Because I am a teacher. And as a teacher, I am out of the house every morning by 7:30 a.m., when their babysitter arrives to take them to school.  Being a teacher, my girls start school around the same time I do, so I don't get to be a mom to my kids and take them to school.  And, I also do not get to be a mom and pick them up from school either, so my babysitter picks them up from school, and takes them to dance, and has relationships with the other moms in their classroom.  While I am at my school, making relationships with the parents of my students.  Do I regret my job choice?  No, I am glad that I am a speech-language pathologist and I enjoy getting to know my families.  But, when presented with a day that I might get to take my children to school and pick my children up from school, I will always choose them, over walkout activities any day.  I am a teacher, but I am also a mom.  Being a teacher makes being a mom difficult.  And for those that would jump in and say "Well, you shouldn't have had children if you can't take care of them." I say back that I didn't really have a choice.  When my husband died, our plans to have a parent at home with them changed, and now I work to make ends meet.

I also had plans to go and see my doctor on the day of the walkout.  You see, I have neglected going to the doctor for some time now.  It's cheaper if I don't go in and pay copays and deductibles.  I also don't have much sick leave accrued so it's hard for me to justify taking sick days when I have to save them "just in case."  When you have kids at home, there are a lot of "just in case" things that come up.  So, when I heard that we weren't working on the walkout day, I scheduled an appointment to see my doctor, so that it wouldn't impact my time at work.

And about making those ends meet, there have been numerous articles in the newspapers about the teacher strikes throughout the state, and one of the first comments on these articles is always a link to teacher salaries.  Being that we are state workers, our salaries are public record.  So anyone has the right to be able to look at see what I make.  But, before you go and look at those sites, I think there is something you should know.  I clicked on the site.  I looked up my salary.  Did you know that the website says that I make $77,000 per year?  Wow!  I've only been teaching for thirteen years, so that is a very impressive salary for being just a teacher.  But do you know what else that salary is for?  That salary is before taxes.  That salary includes all of my benefits.  That salary does not tell the entire story.  Like I said, I get benefits.  Did you know that some of our pay goes to paying the premiums for our benefits?  Did you know that my copay goes up every year?  Did you know my deductible goes up every year?  Did you know that our district tries hard to give us pay increases because they value us as teachers, but that those pay increases typically don't cover the increase in our benefits?  Did you know that for the last four years, my pay has gone DOWN?  Did you know that I have stopped going to regular doctor appointments for myself in an attempt to save money for myself?  Did you know that after taxes and all of the deductions from my paycheck that my take-home pay is $3000 per month?  And for those that are not great at math my take home salary for a year is around $36,000.  Which is almost exactly the amount that I have lost out on over the last six years from not getting my cost of living adjustment.  $36,000!  A whole year's worth of pay that I have lost out on because when the legistlature is looking for cuts to the budget, they deny us our voter-mandated COLA, and yet can always find the money to give themselves an 11.2% COLA, like the COLA they are getting this year.

But, what about being paid all summer?  I don't even work all summer!  I'm getting paid for the months that I have off!  That is correct.  I am.  They take my salary and thankfully divide it over twelve months so that I don't have to go all summer without getting paid.

And seriously, you only teach from 8:20-2:35.  That's not a full day.  You're right!  It's not.  But I get to school around 8:00.  And I typically leave work around 5:00 on a good day.  And then I take work home with me.  Often, I try hard to be a mom when I get home so we do the regular dinner, bath, bed routine and then I'm up sometimes two, three, four hours working on reports, or IEPs, or evaluations, or planning for therapy for the week.  But I only get paid for 7.5 hours a day.  I don't get overtime.  Or comp pay.  So the four hours sitting at home on my computer is my donation to my job, because I love the kids that I work with, and I love being a professional for my bosses so I always make sure that my paperwork is completed.

And don't even get me started on Common Core.  The concepts of common core in itself are not bad.  Having a common teaching tool to work with across the nation is a fantastic idea.  Knowing that the Navy babies that I work with can leave Washington State and move across the nation and see the same standards is fabulous.  But, did you know they ruined these concepts by restricting teachers' freedoms to teach what they want?  They added in Standards Based Assessments (SBAs) in order to determine if students were learning the Common Core Standards.  This assessment is so hard, and so time consuming that many teachers can't pass it, let alone the students that we work with.  We have practice SBAs, and pre-SBAs, and run-through SBAs, and we are testing and testing and testing until we can't test our kids anymore.  And they are stressed.  And teachers are stressed.  And the good teaching that has happened in our schools for years and years is out the window because they are so uptight that they are not hitting all of the teaching points of the assessment, that they forget that they are amazing teachers.  

And now, 27% (I believe) of our teacher evaluations are going to be tied to the SBAs and how our students perform on this assessment.  And for me, who doesn't have a classroom that I teach out of?  My evaluations appears to be based off of  a building average of how our students do.  So, my teacher evaluation will be based off of how well my colleagues prepare their students for the SBA.  How is that fair?  And just as a sampling, we have been working on various grade levels of SBAs for some time now, since at least the beginning of April.  And what stories are coming out of the SBAs?  There are stories of how whole classes have persevered and done their very best on the assessments.  There are stories of kids who are in tears because they are so stressed about taking this test.  I work in special education.  My students have a whole range of learning and behavioral and sensory and communication deficits.  There's the story from one of my students how he couldn't answer his writing question because it asked him to play out a social scenario.  He has Aspergers and didn't know how to answer the questions.  There was the student who was so stressed by the question he was given that he clicked on the "end test" button and it finished his test and he could no longer continue with the assessment.  All because he was angry and the teacher couldn't help him or she might "breach assessment security."  There was the student who got into a fight with his brother on the playground the morning that he took the assessment and he also his the "end test" button and his test was locked out.  There was the student who finished his reading assessment in 14 minutes because he randomly clicked answers on the test and didn't read any part of it.  But guess what?  My ability to continue teaching in this district, and the ability of my peers and colleagues may be impacted by these test scores, because they want to tie these test results to my evaluation.  Is that fair?  I don't think so.

So, I did not participate in the walkout last week.  And I will admit that since that time I have thought and prayed a lot about it and I am ashamed that I did not.  I am hurt and angry just like my fellow teachers, but I took the coward's way out and did not participate.  I dropped my kids off that morning at school.  I went to the doctor.  I picked my kids up from school.  And I did not participate with my colleagues.  And I am sorry to them if I did not show support to them in their time of need.  But, I can tell you that I will be there for the next one, because I worry that there will be a next one.  The state legislature needs to listen to us!  We are losing a battle in the field of education.  We are losing children to testing, but we are also losing teachers.  Good teachers!  Excellent teachers, who can no longer handle the stress of the job.  Teachers who cannot passively sit back anymore and watch as our education system crumbles.  No Child Left Behind is slowly turning into every child left behind, and their teachers being left behind too!

Many people will read this and be upset or angry, on both sides of the fence.  Many of my colleagues will be disappointed in my decisions that day.  Many people in the public will think that I am whining and that I am spoiled for wanting these things to happen.  And, it is not about the pay for me.  It is about the health and well-being of my students, of my peers, and of the educational system in this great State of Washington!


I am a teacher.  I did not get into this profession for the pay.  I did not get into this profession for the glitz and glamour.  I did not get into the profession for glory or honor.  I got into this profession to help my students, to teach the kids that are entrusted to me to the best of my abilities, and to carry my students from the point they come to me to being successful in their next point of life.  I am a teacher, and I am proud to be a teacher, and I will always be a teacher no matter what my pay is, or what my benefits are, or how much money I lose every year.  Unless my evaluation says that I didn't have enough kids pass the SBA in my school.  Or unless parents get so fed up with this system that they homeschool their children.  I am thrilled and honored that God has chosen me to be called to work in the capacity that I work, but I am quickly seeing that His plan for me may change, and my heart breaks for my students who do not get to opt out of this education system.  It is broken, and it is time for change, and I will fight for my students to get what they need to be successful, even if it means someone else picking my own kids up at school those days.

It takes a village...and that village is rallying around it's children!  It is time!  And I hope you'll join us in educating the public and getting the word out about the misconceptions in education.  Teachers are not greedy.  We are not lazy.  We are not just in this for the pay. We are kind, caring, compassionate, and passionate about our jobs.  And we are looking for change for our students!  It's time!

Welcome to the Club

There's an unspoken club within the walls of Hawk Elementary School. There isn't a secret handshake. There are no formal meetings. There isn't a clubhouse. There are no dues. And it's a club that no one wants to be a member of, and the current members forever pray that no one else joins our club. It's a club of grieving people. People who have lost loved ones over the years. And the number keeps growing. 

It started with me, I suppose. Brian died in October of 2010. I remember Tess, our principal calling a "stand up meeting" as she calls them to let the staff know. I was thankful to be elsewhere and not present at the meeting. The support from the people in my building and in the speech department was amazing. I was and am truly blessed to have them in my life. And life goes on. 

But then, the next one to join the club...Katy miscarried her twin babies. Our hearts as a staff were broken again. Another stand up meeting. Another round of meals. Another staff member going through so much pain and heartache. 

Wendy lost her husband almost two years ago. I remember walking into school that day, and my assistant standing in my office with such a sad look on her face. When I asked her what was wrong and she told me what happened, I had to sit down. It was like someone grabbing the scab over the wound on my heart and ripping it right back open. I sobbed. For Wendy. For her husband. For her loss. Another unwelcome member...

A new building and a new start was exactly what we all thought we needed. Our brand new building would start new and fresh and we would all be ok! Free from gathering any new members. We hadn't even moved in yet when we got the email from Tess that sweet Liza had lost her teenaged boy Jackson. No stand up meeting since it was over the summer. But sign ups to make meals. Sending love and prayers. I didn't know Liza very well, but I made her family shredded chicken and took her dinner. I sobbed to whole time I was making her dinner. Like ugly cry sobbed for three hours solid. Another unwelcome member into the most horrifying club ever. School started back up in the fall and life carried on, with oh so heavy hearts. I couldn't even look at Liza without wanting to sob. So I sent her love and hugs and prayers through email, until the day she got brave and stopped me in the hallway and we hugged. I have loved getting to know Liza. And although our grief is oh so different, it's not so different all at the same time. 

We marched through the fall, and celebrated a staff member with a new baby on the way. And then...another email. Our friend and colleague Jennifer has lost her precious baby. And we cried. And I made pulled pork sandwiches and delivered them to her and sobbed into her arms as we held each other and loved each other and welcomed another unwelcome member into the club. 

And then it seemed things were ok. We marched on, hiding our grief in front of our kiddos, leaning on the individual coworkers we all run to, sending a knowing glance as we pass in the hall, sharing gentle smiles and quick cries and bonding together as unwanted members in our awful club. 

Then, cancer took Joni's husband too soon. Another email. And I just couldn't make anymore casseroles or crock pot dishes. I just couldn't. I hated that! I know people feel like they want to help but I hated people bringing me food. I didn't want to eat. I didn't want to see people. I didn't want to have to smile and try not to cry and be thankful. And when it came time for Joni I was relieved that the food chart filled up quickly. Because I just couldn't. Another member in our group. My heart was broken. 

This past weekend, Tess sent an email. Calling for another "stand up meeting" on Monday morning. My heart was sick. I texted a few coworkers and found out what happened. Another coworker lost her husband. My first thoughts were with Joni and Wendy. I remember walking into the school when Wendy lost her husband. I knew how hard that hits and how sad it is. And then my thoughts turned to our other members. Because grief and loss, no matter how different, is still grief and loss. It rips all those wounds open, no matter how long ago it has been. And I wept. For all of them. For all of us. Another name on the roster of the worst club ever. 

  

We went to school Monday morning. I got there just in time for the stand up meeting. Walking up the stairs I met Wendy, who had already found out and was crying. I took her hand and took a deep breath and walked into the library. Tess made the announcement and told us we could stick around for a prayer if we wanted to. After a few left the rest of us got up and formed a circle. I tried to avoid eye contact around the circle but I slowly started to look. Liza. Jennifer. Katy. Wendy. And then I stopped because it was tears. One of our teachers said a prayer. I hugged Wendy. And I went to duty on the playground and tried to push it out of my head. 

When duty was over, I had this feeling I needed to check on Wendy. As I was walking back to Wendy's classroom, Katy was coming out of her classroom. Jennifer and Wendy were coming down the stairs together. Liza was coming out of her classroom. We all stopped for a second and looked at each other. I smiled and said, "How did we all find each other?" Then we shared a lot of tears, and quick and quiet words, and hugs. And then did what we needed to to greet our kids at the door. That moment though...the moment when we all just happened to be there, in that moment, was so important and so powerful to me. An unwelcome club. But an amazing group of strong, supportive women. Women who have been through hell and back. Who have experienced different losses, but losses just the same. 

When Brian died, I went to work the next day. I needed to be there. I needed my friends and I needed my coworkers and I needed my kids. Thinking back, I am so thankful to the people that have supported me and carried me through and been there for me. I never would have been able to make it without Melody and Kim and Tess and so many others that helped me out in those days.  And now I wouldn't make it without the addition of Liza and Wendy and Jennifer and the other members of this club. For they know. They understand. They can see my face and know about the weariness and exhaustion and pain and depression and sadness. And I see it with them too. 

It's a club that I never wanted to be a member of. And it's a club that I say is full and no more members are allowed. But, if it happens that we need to make space, we will. Because there is no other place I would want to be if I need support than within the walls of Hawk Elementary. We are a sad school. But more than that? We are a school full of strength and love and support. Beautiful, strong, grieving women who cling to each other and hold our breath everytime there's a stand up meeting. 

Here's to no more of those meetings!