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Archive for September, 2011

Today’s post title adequately describes the birthday party held at our home last week. Thirteen boys with an average age of twelve equals a loud, smelly, testosterone-filled three hours (and an Ibuprofen sized headache for mom and dad πŸ˜‰ ).

Once again I was reminded how very little I know and understand about boys. They are like a different creature than any other … man, woman, female child … and then there are … boys … A creature totally unto their own.

First off was how they grow at this stage. Now I had been noting growth in my own boy in a significant way over the summer. He must have grown a couple of inches! But some of his friends … they have grown FEET! It was surreal! I walked them to my van, after school, feeling as though I was walking in the company of giants.

Then there was the … scent of a van full of boys of this age … Oh Mr. Old Spice guy, how I longed for your scent (now that I think of it, I should have utilized the opportunity to give them the party loot bag gift of antiperspirant … necessity is the mother of invention … and those boys, they had need! But, I digress!).

At home they truly seemed to me to be trying to end each others lives, while playing in the pool. I was certain that my pool water was full of psychopaths (and probably full of pee too … thirteen boys in pool for almost two hours, and only two got out to take a leak … yuck! And this is why, as soon as they went home, we shocked the life … literally … out of the pool water). But, according to hubby, this is what boys do. And they were (according to hubby) having great fun. I am so glad that I am female! (and I am even more glad that we have TWO daughters and ONE son …).

When the gourmet birthday meal was completed, they arrived at the table. And when the … hot dogs … were set before them, one would have thought it was an Ethiopian banquet. I never knew that it was humanly possible for three dozen hot dogs to disappear so quickly (1. ‘human’ … maybe I am overestimating things when I refer to them as that. 2. Darn! I knew I should have videoed the event … I am sure the rapid disappearance of the hot dogs could have won me big money on ‘America’s Funniest Home Videos’).

Then gifts … again boys and girls are different! Girls give gifts … boys give cold hard cash.

Finally the cake (they all wanted an icing-laden corner piece). But what they really wanted was to return to the pool. So, off they and their full tummies leapt into my pool (at first I was a little worried that the inhalation of weenies might result in … ‘floaters’ in my pool. But then I remembered that they ate them so quickly that surely if they were to rise again in their digestive track, they would certainly still be all in one piece πŸ™‚ so I could just scoop them out of the pool and they could return to murderous acts against each other).

And then … their parents arrived πŸ™‚

and took their boys home πŸ˜€

and hubby and I dropped into our comfy chairs vowing to re-think boy birthday parties … not really πŸ™‚

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Almost ten years …

Anniversaries are times for remembering, reviewing and reminiscing. And the tenth anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the United States is no different.

It is a time to reminisce about history before, during and after 9 11.

As today is 9-9-11 (two days before the anniversary of the terrorist attacks), I wonder how 9-9-01 (two days before the attacks occurred) might have been different, how we might be different, had the terrorism of that fateful day not occurred. I wonder if people awakening on 9-9-01 had concerns about flying, if they felt there way a terrorist threat, if they knew the name Bin Laden. Was 9-9-01 an age of innocence still? But I also wonder, did people say goodbye to friends and family more casually? Did people forget to tell their loved ones, ‘I love you’ before going off to work or school?

I also wonder about how we were different to our loved ones in the days following the attacks. I know that, for me, in the days following the attacks, I took more time to read and talk and snuggle with my kids at bedtime. I know that snoring from the other side of the bed, at night, was less annoying, and more a comforting sign that he was still there.

But, I also know that I have forgotten how the events of that day had scared me into loving unconditionally, for a time. But, I have become complacent, I take tomorrow (not just today) for granted, I have the freedom to take those I love for granted … because I forget that they might not be here (I might not be here) tomorrow. May I not have to be reminded again, at such great cost.

It is a time to remember the events of that day, and the human losses.

For any of us, where we were and what we were doing, when we heard of the first attacks on 9-11-01 will forever be imprinted on our brains. That is because what we heard, what we saw caused a trauma … a permanent scar, on our brains. I remember arriving at the gym, and seeing the first tower on fire, and thinking, “how awful.” Although true (it was awful), now that seems like such a trite, distant and removed response.

Our minds, our eyes were glued to the information we were hearing and seeing. We were shocked, we were unbelieving that what was going on, was really real. We remember seeing the footage … over, and over and over … of the first, and then the second plane hit the buildings. We remember hearing that the Pentagon had also been hit. We remember hearing of a plane crash in a field in Pennsylvania. We remember seeing people … falling, no … jumping … from the burning buildings … Remember?

It is a time to review where we have gone since the events of that day.

So, where have we gone from the horrors of that day? And I do not mean from the perspective of airport security, of retaliation, of government policy … I mean where have you and I, as observers of that day, gone? How have we changed how we live our lives? What have we learned? In what ways do we do life differently?

I cannot sit on a plane and not think of the unthinkable visions of 9-11-01, and realize that yes, it could happen again. I cannot hear people debate blame of politicians, and fault of agencies without thinking, ‘where there is a will, there will be a way’ (do we really think that we can prevent all attempts of terrorism with a policy?). I cannot hear of retaliation and not think ‘but there is evil in all men, when we eliminate one, many more rise.’ But, these are negative responses. These are not the responses that, I believe, any of the victims would desire us to have.

I cannot speak for the dead. And I knew none of the victims of 9 11. But, IF I had been one of the victims, I believe I know what I would want others to hear from me …

Live your life to the fullest.

That is it. Just live your life to the fullest. Love those nearest to you, and love them daily. Ponder what (who) is most important to you, and spend the bulk of your time, your energies on that thing … or, more realistically, with that person. Don’t sit on the sidelines watching others live their life, go our there and live, and live, and live …

… because, when life was coming to an end, that fateful day, I bet they each wanted just one more chance at life … and we still have it in our grasp … live it, because they didn’t have the choice.

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Last weekend I had a glimpse of simplicity, of relaxation, of down-time. And what flowed out of me in the quiet of the unhindered hours of that Saturday morning was far more creativity than I had experienced in a very, very long time.

It has made me think about how I live my life, and how I encourage and allow my children to live their lives. But, more specifically, how we construct our days, our weeks. What we fill our hours with. What we ‘do’. And what we consider to be relaxation, simplicity and down-time.

Although not just in the context of Christian living (but certainly, to a large degree, a huge factor in the Christian community), Christians tend to live as though we are fearful of uncommitted time. As though down time is, in itself, a sin. As though every moment of every day needs to be filled to the brim doing … ‘stuff’. But, I just do not believe it!

When my brain is empty of immediate pressures, commitments, and expectations … it is then that my heart and my soul are able to play a greater role. It is then that I can create. It is then that I can love better, plan better … live … better.

Today I was reading Genesis 1 and 2 to a young girl from China. Her English was limited, and her Biblical familiarity lacking. So, as I read the story to her, I explained each of the six days of creation.

And then we came to day seven … and Godrested

Well, if that is not enough encouragement for us to take a break once in a while (maybe once a week? … just sayin’) I cannot imagine better!

But, you know what else I realized … God had probably been resting before he started the process of creating. And look what he was able to pull off having had a rest!

Now, I am not legalistic when it comes to sabbath rest … heck, for my hubby, who is a pastor, Sunday is NOT a day of rest. I am okay with grocery shopping, working, and playing cards (something my poor grandmother used to feel guilty doing on a Sunday) … if doing those things, on a Sunday, allow for Sabbath rest at another time in the week. But, I do believe that if the God who put the heavens and the earth together (in whatever form He chose to do it in) chose to rest one day out of seven, then we, mere mortals, could probably benefit too.

Try it! Try taking a day (for some, start small … just take half of a day … ) and enjoying Sabbath rest. Do things that make you smile, do things that allow you to stop and smell the roses, do things that fill your energy cup, do things that make your creative juices bubble, do … nothing.

See if taking a selfish break, from that endless ‘To Do’ list, makes you better at what you do the next day.

Β “he blessed the seventh day and made it holy,

because on it he rested

from all the work

of creating

that he had done.”

Genesis 2:2-3

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We were heading to do a bit of back to school shopping, my youngest daughter and I. It was a shopping trip with a mission … to purchase what was needed, and get back home … on budget, and with our relationship still intact (those of you with teenagers understand the near impossibility of that).

I decided to start our evening off right, with a mother-daughter dinner. This enabled conversation, planning for the evening, and full bellies.

As we were sat at a table, another family was seated just across from us … a mother, a daughter and a preschool son. My daughter noticed them and oued and awed over how the older sister was caring so tenderly for her younger brother (how she could not see herself in the place of the older sister, and how good it would be to treat her younger brother with tenderness … at least once in a while … I do not know. But, I digress).

And this moment, at the beginning of our evening, started a most wonderfilled evening together. She started a theme, and we began to seek out similar moments, intentionally.

The theme altered slightly, from children in general, to little girls and their fathers. And so, with her impetus, we began seeking fathers and daughters to observe. And, we did this all evening.

There was a man at Costco with his daughter in a cart. The preschool aged daughter was holding a package. Her dad looked at her and told her not to open it, he then looked away, she looked at us, grinned, and giggled with the twinkle in her eyes communicating that she would not stop trying to open it.

Then the little girl who cried she wanted to go home, and dad hugging her.

And the little girl dressed up, in a pretty dress, riding on top of a mattress set, on top of a cart … looking like the princess and the pea … dad pushing her on it.

By the end of the evening we had purchased all that we had sought out, we were on budget and we were still talking (an amazing accomplishment). I am convinced that it was because our ‘purpose’ for the evening had changed. Oh, we still got clothes and food and school supplies, but we also got to lay our heads on our pillows that night with the beauty of wonder filling our hearts and souls. We sought wonder (intentionally), and it was there.

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This summer was different than most. And it was certainly not the summer I had planned or hoped for.

I worked for half of it, and the other half was spent with two Korean student house guests, and two Chinese student guests / new family members (they will be living with us for the school year). It was also different, because the warm summer weather was delayed, slow, and at times non-existent.

There are things that have been staples in our home and family, that just didn’t happen this summer. Things like daily swims in the pool (we have become wimps … and just do not go in the pool on cool or overcast days), nightly ‘tribal councils’ (we sit out under the stars to the light of the tiki torches, laughing and talking … and texting each other … while only a couple of feet apart), summer school work (I usually give my kids summer school work, to keep their brains engaged over the summer, but working made it hard to find the time … this is something that my kids have NOT missed πŸ™‚ … I have never seen them so happy about me working. But, I digress), and a time away for all five of us 😦

The following is a wrap up of my summer:

Days when I did not have to leave the house … ZERO 😦

Days I had morning coffee on the deck … THREE

Days of temperature over thirty degrees … TWO

School lessons taught … ZERO (Mom 😦 … TWEEN kids πŸ˜€ )

Nights of ‘tribal council’ … THREE

Books read … ONE HALF (thanks to my flights to and from New Brunswick)

Pool parties … ZERO

Toes dipped into Pacific … ten

Toes dipped into Atlantic … ten

Korean students our family got to host … TWO

Chinese students who have become part of our family (for the whole school year) … TWO

Camps our two youngest attended … THREE

Summer debt accumulated … ZERO (thanks to my summer job). And every minute and hour of it were worth it! I got to work with fantastic people, learned much new information, and got a paycheck.

Was I loving working in the summer all the time? NO! I did have a ‘poor me’ day, where I griped and complained to hubby that I was working my tushie off and would have nothing tangible to show for it. Last week, as we were admiring the brick patio (bricks that we had, largely bought used … transported here, then carried up our mountain of a property) that our friend (who we had hired when it became obvious that we would not have time this summer to complete on our own) laid for us. And hubby instructed me to look at it, and see that my extra working did have something tangible to show for it.

And, it was good.

So, it was a different summer. It was not the one I had planned on having. Working was not what I had wanted to do. But different is not bad, it’s just … different.

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Today I will go to see my son play football for the first time!

Way back in April, hubby was telling me how much our boy wanted to play football this year. I had my doubts … doubts that our son was the one who wanted to play football. You see hubby loves football! He played in high school. When we met, and were first married, he coached high school football for about seven years. And, he loved it, and he was good!

But, our son … although he physically looks like a clone of hubby, and his mannerisms endorse that cloning possibility, his interests tend to be different from his dads. And, I was really not feeling confident that it was our son who was understanding of the level of commitment and physical exertion that would be required to play on a football team.

I was pretty sure that dad was hoping to live vicariously through son.

But, I was so wrong!

Although he is not yet twelve, and one of the youngest players on his team. He has been practicing three hours a week, since later June. And now that the game season has begun, practice hours are at four and a half, plus games. And he cannot wait to get to a single practice! And he watches the clock, so that he can be ready to go. And he comes home, totally exhausted, saying it was great (even when he gets knocked onto his behind regularly). And he loves his coach. And he loves playing with the guys.

And … he loves that it is just he and his dad :), because his dad, is also one of the coaches on the team.

His dad, more than genetic material, and disciplinarian, and caregiver … is his greatest hero. It is his dad whose opinion matters most to him, It is his dad whose every word, every step he watches, and tries to emulate. Even though their personalities are so different, he knows that it is in his dads heart and life, that he can see his own future.

In the past couple of years, as adolescence has been rearing it’s head, I have been silently mourning the loss of MY little boy. But, this summer, as I see the bond of father and son developing more strongly, more tightly, I am mourning less and celebrating more.

I can love my son tenderly and I can be the first to receive hugs from him (and wonderful bear hugs they are), but I cannot give to him the one thing he needs most … a model of what it is to be a man, and a model of what it is to be a man after God’s heart. It is in the model of who my hubby is, and wants to be, that our son can see hope for his own future, as he grows into manhood.

I am so thankful for the dad my son (and daughters) has. I know he will have the courage and wisdom to coach our son from the experiences (positive and negative) that he has had so far. And, he will also have the wisdom to tackle him into a bear hug, through the years to come.

And I will willingly sit in the bleaches, cheering them on, as he and our son grow and learn together.

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Having now been back to work, in a school, for three days, I am confident of one thing … school is not school without the students!

It has been wonderful to see and reconnect with my work colleagues, get my schedule, and hear of the new plans and initiatives for the school year. But … it does not feel like my job, it does not feel like school, if there are no students there. The building is NOT the school, even the staff are not the school. Both of those are valuable parts of ‘school’, but it is the students who make up, and who are … the school.

All parts that come together under the roof of the school, from teaching to non-teaching staff, from parents to guardians, from professional development to textbooks, from note pads to computers, do so with one purpose in mind … to teach the students who will attend there. And it is in they, the students, that our purpose for being there lies.

It has been a good reminder to me of what my job is really about. Although I benefit from my job (financially and with a sense of purpose and fulfillment), I am there for the benefit of the students, not the other way around. I am there to help them to learn, they are not there to help me learn (but, they do). I am there to encourage them, not they encourage me (but, they do). I am there to make their lives and their futures better, they are not there to improve my life (but, they do).

I hope that remembering why I do what I was hired to do helps me to do my job better. I hope that a month from now, I can remember how very boring and even pointless (not that it is, but it ‘feels’ that way) being at school without the students was, way back here in August.

The highlight of my day … meeting the family of one of the students I get to work with this coming school year … That was one step closer to what I was hired to do!

“…the fundamental purpose of school is learning, not teaching.”

Richard DuFour

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