Life Matters...

In the midst of having a fun sister day yesterday, we left The Melting Pot, oblivious to the horrors that were unfolding across our nation, until we couldn't find a taxi anywhere in the city. So we started walking back through Seattle Center. Julie and I were casually chatting about the events of the day, how good dinner was, life in general. We hopped on the monorail back to Westlake Center and exited the mall, not knowing that we were stepping into the middle of the Black Lives Matter protests. Being that I was living in Seattle during the time of the violent WTO riots, protests in Seattle make me extremely nervous. A phone call home to my mom to tell her we were going to miss our ferry, a brief moment of panic, a couple of texts to friends for prayers for safety for all and we were quickly making our way to the ferry. 

My phone died shortly after that so I didn't know of the heartbreak in Dallas until we got home and I plugged my phone in. Recharged, I opened Facebook and every post was about what had happened. From both sides of the racial aisle. I have many friends in law enforcement on my page and there were cries for peace and prayers for Dallas. There were posts of "an eye for an eye" intermixed in also, claiming that what happened was justice for the black men that were murdered this past week by police officers. There were tears and heartache and a sick stomach from me. I just couldn't even imagine the heartache from both sides of the agenda. 

What is wrong with our world? I feel like I have to explain, and even apologize, because I am as white as they come. I am mostly German. I have white relatives. I have mostly white friends. I will be the first to admit that I am probably very ignorant when it comes to black culture. Even typing that sentence I wonder if I'm saying it wrong.  Should I even say black? Should it be African-American? I usually don't say anything along the lines of race because there is a fear that I am going to offend an entire culture or even just someone specific. Tensions are at an all-time high and as a white person, I sympathize with the anger and fear that has arisen because of all that is going on. And I've been wanting to make a blog post on this for a long time. But how to do it without making things worse? How do I type on this topic, as a white person, without insulting or minimalizing the feelings of an entire culture?

I pray. I ask for God's guidance when writing these posts and I ask Him to speak through my writing. I ask Him what I should be saying, if anything. I have been called to write on this topic and it is creating such angst for me. I don't know if my writing will help or hurt or not even matter. I still just imagine me typing these for my own purpose, for my own benefit, and that no one is reading them anyways. So when I type with that in mind, it might make this post easier.

Typing this gives me the same feeling that I had the day I wrote on Robin William's suicide.  A deep, sick pit in my stomach. There is so much loss and sadness. So much volitility. So much finger pointing and hatred. What are we supposed to do? How are we going to pull ourselves out of the mess that this country has become?

My first instinct? Pray! The people that don't believe in God or don't trust that He will pull us out of this will tell me that prayer only makes the one praying feel better. That it does nothing for the situation. I don't believe that. Prayer is the battle that we are fighting. It is our response to a world gone mad. And we are indeed at war with Satan right this very moment. The tragedies and the circumstances that are happening right now are being orchestrated by Satan. And he is sitting back and laughing at the ensuing chaos and panic that is rippling across our country. So first, I believe we need to bring God back to the center of this nation. There are so many unbelievers that I know that this seems like a daunting task to those of us that are willing to lead this army. But lead we must! We must pray! Pray for our nation. Pray for our cultures. Pray for our enemies. Pray for each other. So much life has been lost. So much trust has been bruised. So many egos have gotten in the way of people doing their jobs.

Black people verses cops is what is playing out and unfolding right now before our eyes. The videos that have been recently posted are disturbing no matter what side you think you need to take. I can't even imagine being in those situations. There is widespread fear that cops are just going to continue picking off black people one at a time. And since last night in Dallas, there are officers leaving their families thinking that this may be the last time they are seeing their families. None of it is fair! None of it is right!

In any culture, in any race, in any profession, there is that 10% of the population that will "ruin it for everyone else." The bad guys from each walk of life surface at some point and it instantly becomes front page news. There are bad cops. There are bad black people. There are bad white people. There are bad teachers. There are bad priests. And what does our news and media focus on? Who is sensationalized in our media? The bad 10%. We rarely hear of the cops that are heroes. We rarely hear of the black citizens that have greatly contributed to society. We hear from the 10%. They are the ones that make headlines and sell newspapers. 

My second piece of advice for now? Social media needs to stop being the place where we play out these wars. Armchair attorneys, keyboard juries, people judging and criticizing and watching snippets of video and making judgments based on what he said or what she said. This goes for everyone! Social media has become the platform where we display all aspects of our lives. We sit on our phones or our computers or our tablets and watch videos that are posted or stories that are reported and proceed to allow ourselves to be judge, jury, and executioner in every situation we are presented with.  If you weren't there and don't know the whole story, why are you judging? The comments section on any article or video or post is a heart-breaking, horrible scene. Even the most innocent post turns into a comment-slinging, hate-filled montage of judgement from other people. Cute videos of a puppy eating a lemon? Horrible comments about animal abuse and torture and how this person shouldn't even own a dog. A Caucasian women puts cute twists in her hair and sleeps on them to make her hair curly? Degrading comments insulting the woman's looks and tirades about how she is "stealing black culture" because those are actually called Bantu knots and how dare she claim this hairstyle as her own. A video showing the fiancé of a black man dying in the passenger seat next to her? The speech towards cops, saying they are all racist pigs and need to die. 

How did we get here? How did we get to this point in our world where there is such disregard for human lives. Blatant disregard for the feelings of other people. Such hatred and intolerance and quick snap judgements.  Rather than criticizing and striking down the opinions and ideas of others, why can't we give an inch and be tolerant? Being that I am German, and that my father was born in Nazi Germany, I could teach you about German history. I bet there are things about my culture and my past that I could teach you and tell you about. I could tell you how my grandmother spoke several languages and that she and my father were marched to a relocation camp because they weren't Hitler's version of the perfect German. I don't know anything about Bantu knots (until I watched that YouTube video about them) But guess what? Teach me about your culture! Tell me calmly about the origin of that hairstyle rather than call me a racist and accuse me is stealing a piece of your culture without acknowledging it. Because I would have called them tiny, messy buns just like that white lady in the video I saw did, not knowing any better. 

Social media posts have become kerosene to a fire that has been igniting for a long time. And that ignition is leading to an explosion right now. America's favorite pastime is flaming people who post on social media. This is probably why I'm so terrified of posting this. Rather than hoping it starts a conversation or a movement, rather than hoping it gets shared with a message for people across the United States, I fear that I will be labeled ignorant or racist or hate-filled. My message in all of my blog posts has been consistent: Be kind! For we are all fighting battles. The battles that have ignited are bigger than me and this blog. But maybe there will be something in here that people will read and relate to. Share this post if you are so moved! We need to work together to fix this nation. To fix our hearts. To fix our citizens. We need to stop with the divisive talk and figure out how to grab hands with our friends and families and neighbors and strangers and unite together to become great again. There is no politician or leader that is going to "make America great again." That isn't the job of someone we are going to vote for in November. That job? It's in our hands! It's in our black hands, and our white hands. It's in blue hands. It's in God's hands. 

Our news reels and social media pages are full of news stories, one right after another, set up for the sole purpose to strike a divide between people. Because no matter if you are black or white, young or old, cops or citizens, at our core, at our very foundation, we are exactly just that: people. We are people. We are flesh and blood people. We are moms and dads. Sisters and brothers. Sons and daughters. We are one single slice of  society. One small speck in this great big world. But united together, we can become we, the people, of the United States again. 

It's not Black Lives Matter or White Lives Matter or Blue Lives Matter. It should be LIFE MATTERS! Life...living...breathing...truly savoring each and every moment of this journey. We are given such a limited amount of time on this earth. Our days and seconds are numbered. We only get so many seconds of life. And yet we choose to waste so many of those seconds in hate-filled rhetoric. Life is amazing! Life is good! Please, don't focus on the 10% that makes life horrible! Don't give screen time to the cops that kill in cold blood. Don't give in to the riotous groups that litter social media. Don't fall into the mob mentality that perpetuates the cycle of hate. 

Get off your phones and have face-to-face conversations with people. Learn about new cultures, but don't shame me for not knowing! Teach me what I would like to know! Don't hate all cops because of the actions of some spineless officers! Don't be scared of all black people because our media has created them to be "thugs". We, the people, of the United States seem to be at a crossroads. We can either succumb to the insanity that is happening all around us, or we can join hands and join hearts and work to make America great again. Listen to others! Don't judge or criticize! Approach situations with kindness instead of hate! Teach our fellow people how to interact respectfully and with dignity. We are all people. People. Tear away all of the fear and worry and hate and emotion and that's all we are. We are people. Not monsters. Not racists. Not bigots. Not murderers. Please start the conversation among yourselves. Be kind!

Life matters. I'm sure many of you will read this and think that I am oversimplifying the situation. That it's more complicated than that. That I couldn't possible understand the situation because of my white privelege. And maybe you are right. Then help me understand! Because all I see is a world of scared, worried, hurting people. People who are shaped and molded by preconceived notions and experiences and perspectives that we may not know about. All I see are people trying to make their seconds count. People that are fighting to navigate a lost and lonely world. We need Jesus! We need God! We need Holy Spirit! And like it or not, we need each other! Life matters. I don't want to continue to live in a world where this mess is the everyday. I want to spread love and joy and peace to the world. I want to share the love of God. I want peace on earth and love thy neighbor and all the goodness that I know we all have to offer. I want to post a video of my kids without worrying that someone is going to shame me for something I did or didn't do or said. I want to love and be loved and experience each second and every day to the fullest!

Life matters! Live your lives in love! Not in hate. Don't look at others as simply a skin tone but as fellow human beings to love and honor and share this ride with. Don't let society and life fall to the 10%. Life is at the 90%! We are the majority! We can make life matter! We can make America great again. But we need to bond together! We need to spread messages. Keep it simple. Life matters! And so do each and every one of you! Be kind! And let's fix this broken world we live in, one heart at a time. I'm here! I'm willing to help lead this army! Just take my hand and let's walk forward into the healing light together! 

Peace to you, my friends! If you are called to do so, share this post. It takes everyone to be a part of this! Spread this

message of love and kindness! Don't let evil win! Be kind! And God bless all lives!

I Hope You Had the Time of Your Life...

I am a fairly insecure person. Most people probably wouldn't guess that about me. In fact, if I had a nickel every time someone said, "How are you so confident always?" I usually stare blankly back at them for a while and then try to stifle laughter as the words sink into my brain. I am not confident, but I certainly am one of those "fake it 'til you make it" types. I volunteer for leadership positions. I've been the speech department chair five years and on the management committee for all but three years of my fifteen-year career. I offer to teach classes to my school staff and give trainings to the speech department on issues in Autism, which is my area expertise. These positions I get myself into are utterly nerve-wracking. My stomach gets upset, I dread the day I have to talk in front of a group, and sometimes I seriously consider just calling into work sick on the days I have to lead a discussion or a meeting. Everyone usually tells me what a great job I have done when it's all over, but I never exactly know how I survived. 

There is a lot that I don't like about me. And I tend to focus on those perceived downfalls. I automatically assume that someone is judging me with something. My weight. My looks. I'm not smart enough. I'm not pretty. I look goofy. There are a million tapes playing in my head based on what I am going through in that particular moment. These tapes lead me to have anxiety and panic when I'm in a social situation. I can usually fake it 'til I make it, but sometimes the messages I tell myself are overwhelming and I just can't do it. This happened a few weeks ago. 

I graduated from Olympic High School in 1996. Twenty years ago!  I started seeing the posts on Facebook for our 20-year class reunion a while back. I joined the Facebook group to receive updates about the reunion and was so excited to see the names of people I hadn't heard about for so long. Many of my classmates are already on my Facebook friends list, but how exciting it would be to sit across a table from some of them and reminisce about the good ol' days when we wandered the halls of the high school. 

But...the closer we got to the event, the more my anxiety kicked in. I wasn't really popular in high school. I was overweight, awkward, covered in acne. I was everyone's friend, but not close to anyone. I played sports, which helped, but usually sat in the front of the bus and studied on the way to games rather than being in conversation with anyone. I dreaded lunchtime and would usually find myself in the library or in a teacher's classroom having conversations with them rather than with kids in the cafeteria. The only dance I went to was prom. I didn't go to football games. I loved high school! But there were a lot of fake it 'til you make it moments. 

This anxiety was only half of my issues though. The other anxiety that I deal with now are the life questions that inevitably come up when you haven't seen someone for twenty years. The one that stresses me out most? Are you married? It still catches me off guard. How do I answer this? Is a simple no enough? Do I need to share that I'm widowed? People ask all the time and I typically say "No, I'm widowed." And then that leads to an awkward "I'm sorry" and "what happened?" Which just leads to more awkward. So this is what I stress about. 

My sweet sister tried to help me through that. I was venting to her before the reunion about how I was too anxious to go and she asked why. I told her I didn't want to tell people what my life has been the last twenty years. She stared at me in her little sister way, like I was utterly stupid and said, "What?! You don't want them to know you got your Masters Degree? That you have an amazing job that you're good at? That you have two beautiful little girls? That you own your house and manage to take care of all of those things while being a single mom? That you've lost fifty pounds in the last few months, Yeah, you're right...that would suck." I laughed nervously, but couldn't shake the negative.  

Amelia's surgery was scheduled for a couple days before the reunion weekend and I was relieved! I had a legit excuse not to go. So I posted on a few posts saying I wished I could go, but it just wasn't going to happen. I couldn't leave Amelia. And I didn't go. And then I watched the pictures from the events pour onto my Facebook page. People were having so much fun. Talking and laughing and drinking and just having fun. And I found myself wishing I was there. Regretting my decision to not go. Seeing friends and people from twenty years ago and wishing I was there to hug them and talk to them. I felt stupid and small for not only missing this opportunity, but also for judging the people that I thought would judge me. There weren't cliques sitting together. There were whole groups of people just being adults and being friendly and having fun. My perspective from twenty years ago made me miss out on a fun time. 

My advice out of all of this? Don't do that!   Don't miss out on life because of preconceived notions that are made up in your head. If I could rewind just a little bit I would go to that reunion and have fun. Give people a chance before I assume the worst in them. And also? Don't let your past define you! My sister was right (don't tell her I said that!) My accomplishments are so much bigger than the few tragedies we've experienced. I'm not just a widow. I shouldn't define myself by a box I might check on a form. I'm a mom. I'm a professional. I'm a speech-language pathologist. I'm a home owner. I'm a survivor. I shouldn't be afraid to even admit I'm a widow, because that statement alone proves that I'm pretty badass. I went through something horrible and I'm still standing today. 

We need to stop and think not about how people see us. That is not what is important. We need to start evaluating ourselves how God sees us. I am a daughter of the King. I am His beloved daughter. His child. I am loved deeply by Him. He doesn't care how damaged we are.  He doesn't judge us based on any criteria. He doesn't care if we are anxious disasters of people. We are His. Whole and loved and forgiven and beautiful creations. I forgot about this and felt I wasn't good enough. And I have felt this my whole life. That I wasn't good enough. What an awful thing to think about one of God's precious creations! I am beautifully made! And thinking that someone could think less of me is wrong. Because it's not about what anyone else thinks, but just knowing that I am His!

And it's not fair to assume the worst in people. No one was mean to me in high school. I never put myself out there to give people a chance. I just assumed that people wouldn't like me or would make fun of me or would think that I am weird or a nerd or fat. That wasn't fair to them. And it wasn't fair to myself. I short-changed myself in experiences, and apparently I still am, because I didn't think I was good enough. Something to pray about and work on for sure. If I stop and think about one of my friends thinking this way or saying these things, I would be appalled and would tell them otherwise. Why don't I treat myself the same way? I am worthy! I am beautiful! I am fun! I am all of these things and so much more!

And you are all too! Don't miss out on life and experiences because of self-defeating feelings! You are given one life to live. You are given opportunities to live and have experiences! Don't sit out because of your own dark thoughts. Fake it 'til you make it? Not good enough! You should be out there having the time of your life. Live like the moments and the minutes are slipping away because, guess what? They are! I'll never have another twenty year reunion. I missed it. And I'm sad that I did. But no more! I'm praying on this aspect of my life because I need help walking through this, but I have to live without fear! I know He is walking with me in every moment and because of that, I will have the time of my life for all eternity!

July for Jackson...

I was chatting with a friend this afternoon about verses in the Bible referring to being kind. There are many passages that refer to kindness. This conversation led me to think about the new live version of Cinderella. I love that movie, and I love most that Cinderella's mother, in speaking to her and giving her advice, tells her that she should always remember to "have courage and be kind." In my opinion, these are two very good pieces of advice. 

There are many opportunities presented in life to have courage. My children and I have had lots of practice having courage and I think we have been pretty successful at times. And being kind should be a given, but it seems that this is something that often goes by the wayside in this day and age. I often speak to my plea to be kind! So many people are going through so many things and we don't know what people are facing each day. I've also have talked about my story not ending like this. That there is more to our story than what has happened. Paying it forward and having courage and being kind are all so very important in my philosophy of life. 

There is someone else that has walked a path of yuck but has shown courage and is so very kind. I have written of my dear friend, Liza, before. Liza lost her teenage son Jackson two years ago tomorrow. July 1st. Those of us that have experienced loss have a square on the calendar that brings us to our knees. A date or a time or a place that will forever be burned into our memories. That will forever cause our hearts to shatter into a million pieces. Liza's is tomorrow. And my heart hurts for her. 

Last year, on  the first anniversary of Jackson's death, we had a kindness race at Evergreen Park. We were given a list of things to accomplish and whoever finished their list was the winner. But in reality, we were all winners as we worked our way through the list. We all had our minds opened and our hearts expanded as we checked things off of the list that shared love and kindness to others. 

Liza has been posting the list again this year, asking her friends and family to work through the list in honor and in memory of Jackson. After chatting with my girls, we decided that we are going to accomplish the list and more! We are going to call it "July for Jackson." As a family we will choose one good deed every day to spread love and kindness in honor and memory of Jackson. And we encourage you to do the same! For Jackson. For paying it forward. For just being kind!

The list is posted below!  Feel free to add your own! When you finish a task feel free to visit Liza's Facebook page "Jackson's Light" and show Liza your good deeds in honor of Jackson. Or in honor of anyone else you want to honor! Be kind! And have courage!

Tomorrow, Liza's calendar square where she lost Jackson, is going to be so very difficult. I can attest that when you lose someone you love, the day you lose them sticks with you for a long time. My calendar square is in October. My stomach starts knotting in September dreading the turn of the calendar. So if you can't participate in July for Jackson, then at least pause and send Liza and her entire family hugs and love and prayers. Surviving another year is a huge milestone, but so heartbreaking at the same time. They need their family and friends and community to bolster them up to make it through the day.  

To Liza and Tina and Darby and all their friends and family, my love and hugs and prayers to you all as you flip the calendar tonight to the day that changed you all forever. Have courage and be kind. And always know that you have many, many people that love and care for you! Hold on and express your grief and know that in just thirty-one days we'll turn the calendar again, moving forward one day at a time. We'll all hold your hands and walk with you. And many of us know and wish we could take your pain away!

To everyone else, you also have courage and be kind! This broken world needs more courage and kindness and you can be a small spark that ignited the change we need to see in the world. Do good deeds! Pay it forward! Be kind! For we are all fighting battles...

Ephesians 4:31-32 says, "Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you." Be kind. Love one another. Spread love and peace and joy! Help put a stop to the evil that has infiltrated our world and our homes. Be kind! Have courage! And spread love to others! And remember Liza and Jackson tomorrow...

Here's the list! Here's to a month of love and kindness! And live the list beyond July too!  I love you, Liza. And I'm sending love to Jackson, for in his death you have accomplished so many great things. And in sharing him with the world, the world will be a better place for the love and kindness spread on his honor!

Be kind and have courage always...

Say Something...

Most people know that I love to talk. This love of talking came at an early age. I remember being a very little girl, working alongside my father in the garage. He got me a little blue toolbox filled with a few of my own wrenches. I would lay on the ground under the car with him and I would talk and tell stories the whole time we were working. I'll never forget the day that my dad rolled out from under a car, sat up and looked at me and asked, "Don't you ever shut up?" I remember giggling at him, shaking my head and answering, "Nope!" and continued right on talking. 

I'm sure there are a few friends today who might pause to ask me the same thing. There are many people who come to my office at work, or who I will wander and visit with and they may agree with my dad's sentiments. I'm sure there are more than a few that want to look at me and ask, "Don't you ever shut up?"  Well, yes, actually...

I tend to shut up pretty quick in moments where I probably should be talking.  Therapy. Sharing with others. Talking about hard things. I clam up pretty quick. There are many times that I'm sitting across the table from my counselor and in my head I'm screaming "SAY SOMETHING!" but I just can't bring myself to say anything. So I tell her I need to leave. Or I can't talk about that. Or I don't remember. Anything to avoid the words that I know she wants me to say. It's all hard work. So hard. Talking about my past is not something that I want to do. I'm sure that my counselor is thinking just the opposite of the words my dad said to me. She's probably wanting to scream at me to say something also!

It's hard to talk about stuff that is not pleasant. We all have those skeletons in our closets. The things and events and people that we would like to keep hidden and buried. The things that maybe no one knows about. The events that are too dark, too terrifying to have to relive by sharing with someone else. Sitting in that therapy room, telling things over and over again is horrible. Having PTSD and anxiety makes telling these stories even worse. I have gotten pretty good about recognizing when I'm getting too close to a flashback or getting to far to the brink of being pushed too far, and I have also gotten fairly good at willing those emotions and feelings and reactions away. I change the subject. Or lie. Or sit in silence while my counselor sits and stares at me, wishing nothing but the best for me I'm sure, but not knowing that walking me through these things is like ripping my heart right out of my chest and shoving me right back into those moments. 

So why do we do these things? Why is it so important to say something? Well, I've heard it's healing. I've heard it's good for you. I've heard it gets you to a place where you can talk about these things and it's not a big deal. It's just facts, not like reliving those moments over and over. It's just telling what happened, not feeling the heartache and pain and nausea. It's good for you to get it out and share. 

I think more important than that even is that when you start to share little pieces of your past and of your trauma, you make connections with other people.  That's why I started this blog mostly. I knew that my story couldn't end there. I knew that my story didn't end with me being a grieving widow left to pick up the shattered pieces of our lives. I knew that I was meant to do more. So I started blogging to tell my story, hoping that someone would read it someday and be impacted by these mere words that I put to paper.

After Brian died I started randomly connecting to widows, trying desperately to make sense of this new label that had been thrust on me. But I couldn't. There was no way I could. As I sat with different widows and we began to share our stories I couldn't connect to them. High school sweethearts that had been in love forever. I met Brian online and we hadn't even hit our fourth anniversary. Older women who were fortunate their husbands had set them up so nicely. I was only 33 and we didn't have a penny to our names. A valiant fight with cancer and they had years to prepare for the end. Brian killed himself. There was no preparing for that. Such wonderful husbands that were beautiful people and were going to be missed by their communities. Brian was arrested and charged with two felonies before he chose to end his life eighteen days later. His once amazing reputation tarnished by his bad choices right before he died. There is no common story for me. No bond. 

But, there are pieces of my story that ring true for someone. What if we walked around wearing t-shirts that said what battles we fight in this life? How many connections could we make? I could probably walk the earth forever and never come to another woman wearing a shirt that says "young widowed mother of two little girls who had a husband that threw it all away and then killed himself." But I might find someone with similar pieces. But how would I ever connect to help them if I don't say something?

So I blog. And I tell my story. For the healing and the catharsis that writing has for me I'm sure. But also because that is not how my story ends! I say something to help others. I say something to find my strength. I say something to keep my demons in check and behind me. I say something to let others know they're not alone in their thoughts and feelings. 

There are a thousand topics that I could cover in this say something blog. Weight loss. Weight gain. Poor self-esteem. Suicide. Embarrassment. Wanting to disappear. Crying. Pain. Heartache. And the negative gets you sucked in often. But it's that negative that saying something and finding out you're not alone is so freeing. So normalizing.  Knowing that I am not the only one who has laid awake in the middle of the night panicked and scared and alone and thinking how much better the world would be without me shows me that I'm not crazy. That I don't need to be locked up or taken away. That we all have those fleeting thoughts sometimes. Knowing that I'm not the only one to deal with the darkness and the yuck. Knowing that I'm not alone. Amazing! Say something!

It's not easy to say something. I get to do it behind these words that I post, which has not been easy I will add. Sometimes when I type I imagine that no one in the world is going to read any of this and then I can hit publish. And then I get some likes or a comment or two and I'm terrified to read them, but when I do it's usually affirmation that I am not alone!

So, be brave! Say something! You don't ever know how it will impact you or someone else. But there's a whole world of support and love and caring to be had if you are brave enough to break the silence and say something!  And I will get better at saying something too. I know that my Heavenly Father wants me healed and free and living life to the fullest and that only works if I use the resources he has blessed me with and say something! So you say something, and I will say something too...

Dad Day...

I didn't know I was going to be writing a blog post today, but as I'm scrolling through the Facebook posts this morning, my heart is in my throat. It's Father's Day, and my emotions are high. I'm tired from a long dance weekend, my girls are still sleeping, and holidays are different now. Even six years later, holidays still at some point in the day thump my heart and remind me that things are different.

I have the best daddy in the world! He has always been there for me and he loves me and my girls so very much. There isn't anything I can't ask him to do. Put oil in my truck, more often now that it is leaking. Take my girls to dance if I have to stay late after school for a meeting. He mows my lawn for me, and talks politics with me behind mom's back. He tells funny jokes and loves to tease my friends. He had a hard life growing up and came all the way from Germany. He has survived two bouts of cancer and continues to fight with every doctor visit and blood check. He dotes on my girls and would do anything for them too. He's the best dad in the whole world! I love Father's Day because it's a chance to tell him how much we love him! Today? We get to spend it at the theater watching my girls dance. And I believe there isn't anywhere he'd rather be!

My girls are lucky to have my daddy because their own daddy chose a different path. We had a talk about Brian last night in our very tired hours after the dance recital. Amelia asked if we could skip Father's Day. Emerson asked for the second time this week "Is daddy in heaven?  Because I don't think he is." And then I resent Father's Day. Too many questions that I shouldn't have to answer. Too many tears from little girls who did nothing to deserve any of this. Too many unknowns on my part to know exactly how to answer the questions they ask. I pray often that God would grant me the answers to questions that these smart little ones pose. And I believe that He does and that I am doing my best to answer their questions and help them in their grief process. 

This morning scrolling through Facebook I saw a lot of Father's Day posts. Many of them were wishes that their dad were still with them and lovely poems and memes that I wish I could read to my girls. I wish I could honor their father differently, but his final days with us don't really allow that. Remembering Brian in our home brings more heartache than fondness. It brings tears and anxiety rather than comfort. When I did my check-in with Amelia last night and asked her if there was anything she needed to talk about with Father's Day coming. She looked and me and said "Why?" I told her I was just worried about her around this time and wondered if she missed her dad. She shook her head no and said "I don't really ever think about him. I have more important things to think about." And then she walked away. She paused and turned and smiled at me and said, "Besides, I can't be sad! Look at all the dads and grandpas that we have that have stepped up to help us! AND,

I have the perfect Father in Heaven. He loves me and is there for me always. He'll never leave me and He'll never hurt me. He never asks for anything and I'm always just enough with him! So I'm really good mommy!"

Oh my beautiful, sweet girl! She teaches me and reminds me of more than she'll ever know! She is right! Not only is God the perfect Father, but he has also gifted us with the most amazing men in our lives. These men are made in His image. They are kind and loving and faithful and won't hurt us. They are gentle and funny and are there for any of us. And every day we have our Heavenly Father. And if Amelia knows and can share all of that with me and be confident in her position as a daughter of the King, then we can too!

So Happy Father's Day to all of the amazing dads out there! And Happy Father's Day to the dads who aren't with us anymore! And Happy Father's Day to Brian! Because he gave me two beautiful daughters to love and do life with, and that is the best thing he could have done for me. 

And above all, Happy Father's Day to our perfect Father, God in heaven! Thank you for being that perfect example of a daddy, and loving us always!

The Story of Us...

I know I already posted a blog post for today, but when I am told to write, I write. The last day of school happened today. It's always such a bittersweet time in the school year. We, as teachers and staff and students, pour our blood, sweat, and tears into the work that we complete from September to June. The year goes by in a flash, and with many ups and downs, much like a roller coaster at the fair we will most likely visit over the summer break. There are twists and turns, corkscrews and upside down loop-the-loops, steep climbs and sudden free falls down the the bottom. And then, in the blink of an eye, the ride is over. You get off, wonder if you got your money's worth, and decide you'll get back in line and start the ride over again in the fall. 

I have come to learn that sometimes, cars fall off the track. Some get old and rusty and decide they just don't work anymore. Some decide to try a bigger or better or faster roller coaster somewhere else. Sometimes we send our baby cars up to the bigger track, even when they'd rather stay on our small, safe kiddie ride. 

This blog post isn't about roller coasters, although most of you can read between the lines and see what I was getting at. The story of us! The story that makes up John D. "Bud" Hawk Elementary at Jackson Park. The story of us...

Every year we write another chapter into the story. Every year, we, as a group, open the journal that is HEJP and begin to write our story. We have classrooms filled with fresh, eager faces. They come in wearing their best back to school outfits. There are tears and pictures and quick hugs from trying-not-to-cry mommas. The staff is back, eager to start the new year. Waiting to see which kids will be in their class. Oh I remember your big brother. This is my *insert numbers of years here* year here. That teacher is new to our story. Oh man...not THAT momma. And we begin to write. Back to school assemblies. New schedules. Changes in routine. Remembering how to be a student. Settling into the rhythm that will be your school year. The story of us...

The year flies by. The work gets harder. The teachers get more tired and more stressed. Kids are crazy at Christmas break. Crazier at Spring Break. Unbearable after standardized testing. There's paperwork demands and IEP meetings and angry parents and tired kids. There's new curriculum and not enough time and new contracts and inadequate resources. There's field trips and field day and assemblies and talent shows and So. Much. To. Cram. In. The story of us...

And then, just like a funnel cloud, when you think you can't bear one more thing you are sitting at the last day of school and the stress evaporates. And new emotions flood in. Sadness at losing your kids to the next year. Relief at surviving to the end. Elation that all of the things you were supposed to do got done. Anticipation for a new year as you look around a clean, packed up room and walk out of the front doors of the school until the coming fall. The story of us...

Who is this us? It is the people that make up HEJP. I've gushed about my job and my coworkers before but I truly am the luckiest speech therapist in the whole district. I joined the Jackson Park family almost fourteen years ago and have helped write many chapters in the story of us. There are kids and principals and teachers and staff and parents and so many people that make up the story of us. And it doesn't take much to see the story unfold before your eyes as you walk through the hallways and have conversations with the people there. 

Walking through the school today my heart was filled. Filled with students giving me last minute hugs. Parents singing my praises and giving me treasured thank you gifts. Staff and teachers hugging and crying and saying goodbyes to some of our favorites. A principal that has been with us for ten years walking through our doors for the last time. A beloved Kindergarten teacher moving on to a bigger roller coaster in the park. And friends that have retired coming back to celebrate our year's end. We are so blessed to be authors in this story. So blessed to be partners with such an amazing team of individuals, all working furiously to finish this year's chapter. And to prepare for the next one. The story of us...

When you walk the halls of HEJP, you are touched by the people contained in those walls. You know that you walk among greatness as you move from pod to pod, classroom to classroom, and witness the love and compassion and wisdom being shared with our students. You feel the presence of our retired authors. You understand the efforts of the authors still present. And if you leave after time in our hallowed halls, you leave a piece of yourself behind, and you take a piece of the rest of us with you. The story of us...

Our principal, our leader is moving on. There is fear and sadness and apprehension, but I am not worried! We have the best staff in the district. We have ups and downs but we ALWAYS pull together when we need to the most. And we have yet another opportunity to pull together again. We will only be stronger! We will only be greater! We will continue to add pages to the story of us!

And I firmly believe that anyone who walks into HEJP has been called to work there. Our school is special. Our kids need us. Our families need us. And we need those kids. Standing in my empty office for the last time this morning, I breathed deeply and tears flooded to my eyes. God brought me to that school. And He brought each and every one of you too! My life path has led me to the doors of that school. I am so blessed by my kids and their families and my coworkers. What a team! What a story!

The story of us! So far it's an amazing chapter by chapter account of the lives we have touched, individually and as the family we are! And with each chapter that each author turns in, I can guarantee we're writing a best-seller!

Wishing all of my co-authors an amazing, refreshing, rejuvenating summer! See you in the fall with fresh, crisp paper for chapter 2016-2017! The Story of Us...

Perspectives...

My passion at my job is working with my babies that are somewhere on the Autism spectrum. I enjoy the social groups that I run more than any other treatment sessions that I run. I have often said that my dream job would be to leave my position at the school district and open a private clinic just working with children and adults with Autism. But for now, I enjoy being somewhat of an "expert" in my district with students with high functioning Autism and I am happy in my calling.

Many of the problem-solving instances that I run into with my students happens to revolve around perspective. People with Autism have a very difficult time taking the perspective of another person. They are highly egocentric, only thinking about themselves and their opinions. Many arguments and misunderstandings start because they cannot see the side of the other person. 

This is not exclusive to my special education children. I was witness to a few experiences today where perspective was lost on one side of the argument. I'm not sure whether to feel horrible that our society doesn't get perspective or get excited because that is job security for me. Perspective is so important!

We all fall into this trap from time to time. For example, a few weeks ago, a friend of mine posted on Facebook how wonderful their trip to Sequim had been. What a lovely town and such wonderful people and how they couldn't wait to go back. I reacted poorly and commented with "Yuck!" And the emoji with the mask over his face. Eventually I pulled my comment, apologized to the original poster, and explained my reaction. Sequim is where my husband was from. It does not hold fond memories for me anymore, but rather is an emotional trigger for me and all the stuff we went through. I still can't easily bring myself to even drive Highway 3 north towards Poulsbo. I can feel myself slipping into a PTSD reaction before I've even hit the second Poulsbo exit. Perspective...

Our history or our experiences or our human nature shapes our perspectives. Our reactions to situations are typically based on something that we have already been through. Watching a very angry dad this morning in the school office, I started thinking about this blog post and perspectives. The office had one side of the story. The dad felt another side was true. His perspective was different from that of the office staff. What experiences had he been through that shaped his reaction this morning?

Reactions in typically developing people form perspective differences are usually benign. Often there is an agreement that there was a misunderstanding and life goes on. Sometimes even there's laughter at how silly the shift was. But add in someone with circumstances that make the reaction volitile and people are left in the aftermath. Autism spectrum is only one thing that can alter reactions to a situation. Difficult past. Rough childhood. Distrust of leaders. Being burned before. There's a lot that goes into shaping our perspective. This does not excuse our reactions. My philosophy with my students and with others is to always BE KIND! Be kind! Don't fly off the handle without the facts. Don't get upset without listening to the other side. Don't react poorly to something just because your experience is something different. I apologized to my friend who I blasted about Sequim. That was a knee jerk reaction that I imagine took away a little piece of her fun and enjoyment of sharing her weekend. 

This is not much different from our spiritual walk. Walking a faith journey with God is filled with circumstances and history. We are shaped in our walk by my many things that alter our perspectives. What religion we grew up with. Who pushed something on is that we weren't interested in hearing. The doctrines that we were taught growing up. My perspectives as a life-long Lutheran have shaped me into who I am and what I believe today. But as I continue to stretch and grow in my faith, I am starting to see those perspectives and how they come into play with my beliefs. Things that make me worry about praying. Things that make me feel like I'm not worthy of gifts from my Father. Things I've learned that alter the basis for my last 38 years of beliefs. The bottom line? The only perspective that matters in all of that mess is my Heavenly Father's. He loves me. No matter what I try to do to mess things up, He loves me. He sent His Son to die on a cross for me and He loves me. That is the only perspective I need. 

So when bad things are happening all around you, people are terrible, and you feel like the whole world is against you, first know that there are other perspectives involved in the situation. Those perspectives, whether right or wrong, shape people into who or what they are fighting for. So my first piece of advice goes back to something I say often. Be kind...for we are all fighting battles no one knows anything about. And my next piece of advice is to remember the One that loves you more than anything. Who has the perspective that you an amazing creation. Who has your plans for your future laid out. Who is cradling you and loving you through life, even the days where going on does not seem like an option. 

Keep going. Be kind. Don't let the evil and darkness win. We are all fighting battles. Even the other guy so forgive them and pray for them and know that you tried your best in a difficult situation. Perspectives...sometimes you wouldn't want to know what is shaping theirs...