almost summer

We've had so many summer-like pleasures lately.  Just this weekend, we've had cook-outs, beach walks, ice-cream, a parade, back-yard kiddie pool splashing, sprinkler adventures, tree planting, grass mowing, eating breakfast and dinner on the deck, even eating the first few strawberries from our garden. 

After tomorrow, I'll have just one official teaching day left.  Quite a few organizing, planning projects to do as well, but the school year is disappearing quickly.  Tomorrow, I'll have my fifth graders for the last time.  Being an elementary-only music teacher has its sacrifices.  Saying good-bye is one of my least favorite.  Last week, those fifth graders shared some special solos and I had a few specific words of appreciation and affirmation for each of them.  There were tears and hugs and lots of loving words from the students.  Tomorrow might be even worse.  It's hard to say good-bye to students.

I grew accustomed to keeping them....from first grade, right on up to graduation day.  I was spoiled, but it was one of my favorite perks of being a multi-age music teacher.  I loved the longevity of my relationships.  That was hard to give up.  And it was very, very hard to say good-bye to those students.  Before I had my own daughters, they were 'my kids'...and I think I'll always feel a little of that protective love.

But summer is coming and my kids and I have some beautiful plans for our sunny mornings and days at the beach and time with cousins and friends.  My time with them is already speeding by.  That protective teacher love is so much fiercer now as mother love.   And that short-and-all-too-fast-window of "first grade--on up to graduation" is now my own reality.  Maya is an official first grader.  A graduate.  She reminds me of this several times a day, sometimes with teasing words about how fast she's growing up, sometimes with factual information about being DONE with kindergarten, sometimes though...my favorite...is when she just circles around me humming 'Pomp and Circumstance.' 

 

I'm not so sure I'm ready for the pace of the fall....and first grade!  I can hardly think about September now.  

But I am ready at least, to embrace June, July, and August!

Paris Journal: Evening Two (Eiffel Tower)

Our first full day in Paris was like a dream.  We had crossed several things (major things) off of our list: the Louvre, the Tulleries Garden, La Musee de l'Orangerie, Berthillon glace, Shakespeare & Co., sun-filled walks over bridges and wanderings along the Seine.  One major list item remained.  And for Ryan, it was near the top of the list, the Eiffel Tower.

After a little rest and planning time at the hotel, we took the metro back to the Opera station.  We had only briefly glimpsed it as we entered the city on our first afternoon.  We figured we could get a better look at the Opera, and then wander our way towards the Eiffel Tower.   But before we could find the entrance to the Opera, I spotted something I knew Ryan would love...the Paris Mac store!  Since there was of course, free wifi there, we spent a long time inside, 'face-timing' with the girls.  On our way back down into the metro, we grabbed coffees (to go---the American sized version from Starbucks) and headed to the Eiffel Tower.
Author's side note: This is one of my only regrets of the trip.  Side-tracked by the Mac store and our hurry to see the tower that night, we never entered the Opera....as in "Phantom of..."  If I weren't so utterly full from beautiful once-in-a-lifetime adventures, I would have cried as we drove away from it on our last day.  

After walking for two or three blocks from the metro stop, 'it' emerged... finally.... from behind the buildings and trees.  We could not have asked for a more beautiful evening for this magical moment.  The air was just slightly crisp, but the sky was filled with warm colors, yellows and pinks..and just a little hazy.

As we walked closer, we tried again and again....at every angle to capture its magnificence.

There were play grounds and parks, gardens, and food stands along the way.  One little side-trip off the path led us to one of our favorite views of the night.   (Ryan's beautiful photography and editing)

We seriously considered going up.  But we knew in advance that one of the elevators was out of order...the line was hours long.  And one of us is not fond of heights at all.  We opted to take a River Cruise instead.  A different kind of city view.

The Eiffel tower sits on the edge of the river.  So we walked underneath the tower, toward the Seine.  We found a sunset cruise that included a light dinner and wine, a "snack cruise." So we bought our tickets and boarded the bateaux mouche.  Squeezed tightly among rows and rows of wooden folding chairs, we found two perfect seats on the upper deck.  Everyone there was happy, of course.  It was really like all the movie versions of a river cruise in Paris.  Kissing and smiling and laughing and contentedly breathing deeply...we glided through the water under exquisite bridges and watched the city slowly light up.

The tower was just beginning to light up when our boat returned.  We had just enough time to skip up the stairs to record the sparkling lights before they were gone.  Apparently, we aren't the only YouTube contributors to think that this event is pretty cool.  You can probably find better videos of this...but here is ours.  Including our delighted laughter.

While Ryan captured that on the ipad, I was capturing this with the camera.

It took us a little too long to find the nearest metro station that night.  Block after block of dark alleys made us both begin to feel a little uneasy in this strange city with its language and culture we did not understand.  But eventually we ducked down into the warmth and familiarity of the metro station and soon we were sitting and swaying on the train, people watching, on our way to our safe and cozy little room.

maya grace

She is grace.  A gift.  Gentle and so thoughtful.  She loves deeply and compassionately.  She is protective and nurturing.  She's funny and smart.  And she loves to make people laugh.  She gets so excited about the little things, that it is always fun to watch her face fill with delight with any surprise.  Even if it is just a sandwich cut like a gingerbread man or a wave from teenager that she knows and loves.  She's the best gift-receiver that ever lived.  She 'ooh's' and 'ahs' over things that are beautiful.  And she makes sure you know that she feels grateful and SO lucky to have received your blessing.  

It's pretty fun to surprise her.  

When she's comfortable and confident in her surroundings, she's goofy and weird and utterly lacks self-awareness...she just dives into whatever play she sees or imagines, and never thinks about how others might perceive her pretend voice or wild chirping sounds or authoritative play directions. 

But sometimes, she's painfully shy, completely quiet, deeply sensitive and very attached.  

She loves affirmation and safety.  

She knows the power of words.  She had a pretty big vocabulary before most kids her age could talk. And at six years old, she really loves a great story.  In either role (listener or teller), Maya could live in a story all day long.  She knows how to use words. (This ability can be used for encouragement, persuasion, anger, manipulation, imagination, storytelling, expressions of love...)  

Mostly, she uses her power well. 

She's supposed to be in bed, but she came downstairs to use the restroom and wash her hands.  She stopped in front of me, stroked my hair away from my face, and kissed my forehead.  

  

I am so grateful. 

Happy Sixth Birthday, Maya.

a february flourish

Yesterday was one of those energetic, sun-filled days brimming with people and good things.  On my calendar, it didn't seem possible (to actually do all the things we were committed to), and I was a little nervous about attempting it, but somehow it worked, splendidly.

The girls woke up first (of course), playing and thumping around the house, gathering toys and setting up little "hide-outs"... until they got thirsty and hungry enough to barrel into our room asking loudly for some apple juice and 'frosting cereal' (Sophie's pretty serious about her daily frosted-mini-wheats).  We had whole-wheat apple and flax seed pancakes instead.  Saturdays deserve special breakfasts, I think.  Those extra hours (before anyone has to be dressed and prepared and somewhere-other-than-home) allow for a sunny meal at the table...usually waffles, pancakes, sausage souffle, or york-shire pudding.

Maya and Sophie usually have "sleep-overs" on the weekends.  We pull out the trundle bed in Maya's room and they stay up a little later, whispering silly things in the dark.  Sometimes, Ryan and I listen for a while by the door, stiffling our laughter and trying to remember everything.  I don't remember hardly any of their silly imaginings or conversations, but I remember the feeling of that shared moment, theirs and ours.

After our slow morning at home, we volunteered at a Symphony pre-concert event.  While clowns rolled around on unicycles, making balloon animals, giant animal-costumed characters roamed around the lobby delighting (and terrorizing some) children.  Pop-corn was popping, animal tattoo hand-puppets were being applied to children's hands, and I was helping children (and adults) try violins and cellos at the "Instrument Petting Zoo."  Maya and Sophie loved the whole thing. It looked like spring outside the windows of the Frauenthal lobby.  The Muskegon 'Snowfest' made the downtown a busy place (a rarity), street volleyball and chili cook-offs and people (sans the February winter coats) and bright tents filled the streets.

The symphony concert, though quite enchanting and beautiful, proved challenging for our 3 and 5 year olds.  Maya might have done okay if she could have seen better, but with her patch covering her good eye, I doubt she could see any details from our balcony seats.  Hearing the music might have also helped, but a terrible ear infection this week made her unable to hear the subtle sounds of the string section.  Eventually, the dark, and the music, the exhaustion from a busy day, and my fingers 'playing' the notes on her arm put her to sleep.  But both of them managed to sit relatively still and quiet through the first half.  We didn't attempt the second half.

After the symphony we raced to a 'Mr. Potato Head Birthday Party' for one of our favorite three-year-olds.  

By the time the house was filled with many of our closest friends, it was time to leave for church music practice and Saturday-night church.  Some kind friends volunteered to keep our kids and bring them later, so they didn't have to miss the rest of the party. Which turned out to be quite the event (including a special drive-by visit from a real fire-man with his firetruck delivering fire helmets to all the children)! 

At church, Ryan and I and our friends made music together (which is always good for my soul and mind), we played and sang to each other and to our creator... violin and 2 accoustic guitars... 

...heal my heart and make it clean

open up my eyes to the things unseen

show me how to love like You have loved me

break my heart for what breaks yours....

...

...then sings my soul, my Savior, God to Thee

How great Thou art...

After church, we ate tacos at El Burrito Loco around a wild table full of children and laughter, then headed home for a late bed-time (and for me....a late-night run and some yoga, then to bed with peach tea, new pajamas, a book light, and my Conversational French book.)

This may be the start of a flourish on the blog too....  I have lots of things to post about. Lots of things to be grateful for.  Did I tell you I'm going to Paris?  I am.  And I have lots to say about that.  Stay tuned.

Or don't.  It could be a long wait.

Our Little House

When Laura left home to take her first teaching assignment, she stayed with the Brewster family in a town 12 miles away. Every night of her stay was miserable, awkward, cold, and sometimes frightening. The Brewster family was very unhappy, their child neglected, their home a mess, and their words were always bitter and angry. Sometimes there was cold silence for evenings on end, broken only by loud arguments and hateful words screamed all night long.
Although Laura never told anyone about her miserable lodgings, Almanzo came to the little school every Friday to bring Laura home for the weekend. She realized, as she left one world and entered another, that her home was warm and safe because of the love and kindness that her family had for one another. There were no angry words, no selfish complaints, no sharp arguments. Everyone did a great deal of work to provide for one another. The chores were hard and never ending, but everyone helped each other willingly with love and gratitude.


I wonder how much, if any, of this story is fiction. It doesn't really matter. I still love the contrasting pictures of family life.

And I use the images of the two women, Mrs. Brewster and Ma Ingalls to remind myself of the kind of mother I want my girls to remember. The kind of home I want to build. The sort of memories I want my daughters to have of how they felt...when they were home.

I have to admit, I also use the story to teach my girls about the effects of their words too. When I hear them yelling, arguing, whining, I sometimes ask "What kind of words do we want to fill our home with?"

I'm just waiting for the day when they turn around and ask me that same question.

Ingredients: 1 lb large shrimp, peeled and deveined 1 tbsp olive oil 3 cloves garlic, chopped 1/4 cup white wine 14 oz can diced tomatoes, drained 1/2 cup half and half oregano salt and fresh pepper 1 tsp lemon juice 1/4 cup chopped parsley (I added fresh basil and oregano too) 8 oz angel hair pasta (whole wheat, low carb or high fiber) Directions: Boil water for pasta. Cook according to package instructions.Meanwhile, season shrimp with salt and oregano. Cook shrimp and garlic in olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat for about 2 minutes. Add tomatoes, wine, salt and pepper and cook an additional minute. Add half and half and cook 1 more minute.Add lemon juice and parsley and serve over pasta. Divide equally in 4 plates. Now that we are back into the familiar groove of school, I'm still feeling grateful and happy to be a teacher. I love summer, but I think I'd feel lucky in my job even without those three months off every year! Today was just one of those great days. I felt prepared for the day, more organized (than last year), confident in my role, and surrounded by lovable students excited to make music. Maya is loving Kindergarten. She seems to come home every day either exhausted, or incredibly (obnoxiously) hyper....and full of stories. Some stories come out immediately in the car, others just pop up over dinner, or bedtime...or days later. And some of her stories are just for me, conspiratorially whispered into my ear when Ryan is across the room. She finished her last vowel today in class. And with her mixture of Ryan's meticulous perfectionism...and my...distracted, free-spirited...creativity?....it's a challenge sometimes to get all her schoolwork done in timely manner. But, every paper she does finish looks...impeccable. So our new motto is "Do your best, but GET IT DONE!" Sometimes I have to repeat that motto again and again...for me. Just to stay on task. Between the laundry and ironing, the house-cleaning, the dinners and the dishes, the online coursework and reading and communication, the lesson planning, and school paperwork, the Kindergarten papers, and the places to be, the doctors appointments, and the pretend play, the puzzles, and the storybook reading, and the important conversations and times with friends....I get a little...off task at times, running frantically between jobs, never finishing any. And sometimes, I just end up on the couch, bewildered at where to start. Then there's always facebook! :) But this week, the crazy chaos is manageable. And quite fun. I love my new schedule. I miss the faces and the familiar routines, the musical fun, the shared history that my old teaching role provided for so many years. I will cherish my memories, and 'my kids' there forever. But I'm feeling much more settled, more rooted this year, both as a Mother and as a Strings Teacher. I love my days with just Sophie and our Tuesdays with just me and both girls. We go to ballet and gymnastics, and we play together and read and talk all day. I'm pretty lucky. And next weekend, my Love is taking me away for my belated birthday celebration. Two days and one night in Chicago alone. Just the anticipation is a perfectly delightful gift.

"Shrimp cooked with tomatoes, a touch of cream, white wine and a hint of lemon. This pasta dish is so simple to make and is ready in about 15 minutes, perfect for a weeknight meal."


That's what "Gina" said about the Angel Hair with Shrimp and Tomato Sauce, and I need as many perfect weeknight meals as I can get.

Ingredients:

• 1 lb large shrimp, peeled and deveined
• 1 tbsp olive oil
• 3 cloves garlic, chopped
• 1/4 cup white wine
• 14 oz can diced tomatoes, drained
• 1/2 cup half and half
• oregano
• salt and fresh pepper
• 1 tsp lemon juice
• 1/4 cup chopped parsley (I added fresh basil and oregano too)
• 8 oz angel hair pasta (whole wheat, low carb or high fiber)

Directions:

Boil water for pasta. Cook according to package instructions.Meanwhile, season shrimp with salt and oregano. Cook shrimp and garlic in olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat for about 2 minutes. Add tomatoes, wine, salt and pepper and cook an additional minute. Add half and half and cook 1 more minute.Add lemon juice and parsley and serve over pasta. Divide equally in 4 plates.

Now that we are back into the familiar groove of school, I'm still feeling grateful and happy to be a teacher. I love summer, but I think I'd feel lucky in my job even without those three months off every year!

Today was just one of those great days. I felt prepared for the day, more organized (than last year), confident in my role, and surrounded by lovable students excited to make music.

Maya is loving Kindergarten. She seems to come home every day either exhausted, or incredibly (obnoxiously) hyper....and full of stories. Some stories come out immediately in the car, others just pop up over dinner, or bedtime...or days later. And some of her stories are just for me, conspiratorially whispered into my ear when Ryan is across the room. She finished her last vowel today in class. And with her mixture of Ryan's meticulous perfectionism...and my...distracted, free-spirited...creativity?....it's a challenge sometimes to get all her schoolwork done in timely manner. But, every paper she does finish looks...impeccable. So our new motto is "Do your best, but GET IT DONE!"


Sometimes I have to repeat that motto again and again...for me. Just to stay on task. Between the laundry and ironing, the house-cleaning, the dinners and the dishes, the online coursework and reading and communication, the lesson planning, and school paperwork, the Kindergarten papers, and the places to be, the doctors appointments, and the pretend play, the puzzles, and the storybook reading, and the important conversations and times with friends....I get a little...off task at times, running frantically between jobs, never finishing any. And sometimes, I just end up on the couch, bewildered at where to start. Then there's always facebook! :)

But this week, the crazy chaos is manageable. And quite fun. I love my new schedule. I miss the faces and the familiar routines, the musical fun, the shared history that my old teaching role provided for so many years. I will cherish my memories, and 'my kids' there forever. But I'm feeling much more settled, more rooted this year, both as a Mother and as a Strings Teacher. I love my days with just Sophie and our Tuesdays with just me and both girls. We go to ballet and gymnastics, and we play together and read and talk all day. I'm pretty lucky.

And next weekend, my Love is taking me away for my belated birthday celebration. Two days and one night in Chicago alone. Just the anticipation is a perfectly delightful gift.

Back to school.

The world seems to be suddenly spinning at a faster pace.
I think we'll settle into this new routine alright, but getting prepared is a little overwhelming at times, and I'm not quite as 'together' as I'd hoped at this point. Ahead of last year, definitely. Will I ever feel completely organized, prepared, and in control?

I just turned in my first paper of the semester. And I think my online class is going to be manageable. I had been pretending that this course would actually just disappear from my agenda this year, though I need it to have a professional teaching license. I've been dragging my feet about becoming a student again and ignoring the existence of this one last class. But one class, without driving to Lansing all week... this will be fine. And it will be over before Christmas.

Maya is heading to school this year too. Her backpack has been ready for weeks, and we're all pretty excited about Kindergarten. I'll post her first-day pictures soon!

This time of year always comes with a powerful mixture of feelings... nervous anticipation, panic, sadness in mourning the loss of summer, a bit of regret at the plans left undone, relief for the fresh start, excitement for new routine and hope for big possibilities for growth and accomplishment.

A post from the past that seems fitting today...

"So many pieces of who I am and what I value have been acquired through years of watching and listening to my big brothers. They have, in ways that I'm sure I don't even recognize, shaped me...my understanding of family, of love, of friendship, trust, parenthood, faith. In unique ways, they each continue to challenge and sharpen my understanding of who I am, how I perceive and think about the world, and how I know and love my Creator.
Different seasons of my life have particular memories of times spent with each one of them..."

(And since today is his birthday...I pick brother David to celebrate.)


Some of the only times in my life that I've felt physically strong, athletic, fast, were the hours I spent practicing basketball in our driveway, learning to dribble and shoot with David, or attempting to copy his jump-rope routine to become a higher jumper. Along with my dad, it was David that taught me to kick a soccer ball, shoot a basketball, serve a volleyball, bump, set....and well, (I watched him) 'spike'.

He made college seem magical when I visited him for 'Little Sibs' weekend. I have a truly terrible memory (I'm realizing this more and more), but strangely, I have remarkably solid memories of those weekends with David, just going to his classes and drawing in my sketch book, 'hanging out' with his friends, playing in a sibling 'game show' with him on campus (we didn't win, and I still remember the 2 questions we got wrong), having my presence announced in his dorm by loud shouts of "Woman in the hall!!"...I was probably about 10.

I fondly remember sitting in his classroom as a high-schooler, feeling proud, happy, and actually challenged to think (too often a rarity in high school). My friends loved and respected him so much, and I loved knowing that. He shaped a lot of my friends' lives too.

And in more recent years...I smile when I think about running back and forth between our houses to borrow a vaccuum, an egg, a spare key, a lawn mower, dinner, to share cookies, to use a shower, to return a run-away dog, to ask a question. He always seems to be close when I'm locked out of my house, my car won't start, I'm stuck in the snow, or I've run out of gas. David has rescued me a lot. He does that well. Only, it was way easier when we were neighbors. I do miss Forest Hills.

And now, I get to watch the way that he loves my daughters and they love him. His eyes shine when he bends down to hug them. Sometimes they run for their hug, but sometimes they giggle and run away. He is the self-proclaimed "Yes Uncle." He explained it to me once, "if they ask me for something they want, I say yes." I laughed and rolled my eyes a little, I think. It isn't really true, I hope.

And once again, I get to sit in his 'classroom' sometimes. Lately, he's been preaching about love from I Corinthians. And I feel like I hear him just a little differently than most of the people who hear his teaching, because I'm lucky enough to know how he has always shown me love in his own quiet and steady, always dependable, never selfish, frequently rescuing, and even tender-when-necessary way.

Happy Birthday David. I love you.


I posted a similar blog post back in 2008. I've used several quotes from the original, but added and deleted some as well.

Love...

...is enduring. It isn't fragile. It is....

...patient .
(PATIENT: "longsuffering, having a 'large soul'--BIG enough to absorb insult and injury like Jesus.")


Love is kind.
(gentle, tender, affectionate. It wishes well.)

It isn't envious,
or boastful,
or arrogant,

...or rude.
(Loving means to give myself up...not ever taking something from others rashly.
Love gives graciously...even when they don't deserve it.)

Love does not insist on its own way.
It is not irritable.
It is never resentful or bitter.
It never delights in wrongdoing.
It always rejoices in truth.

~These are words that cut me deeply. All at once, they produce sorrow and regret, inspire change and hopefulness and bring awareness of my continual need to be transformed.

Mostly, I fail on this love rubric in ridiculous moments of insignificance. Finding that I am just a little bit under appreciated and slightly used, I add a few things to my secret "list of ways others have wronged me and/or those I love." And then, when I am too small to bear this burden of (insignificant) injury, I speak or act out of resentment and my own increasingly irritable mood. I suppose I'm just acting out of boredom and selfishness, when I allow my mind to discover small injuries in which to plant resentment. Sometimes the injuries are bigger, and it's easier to justify my angry list making. In those circumstances, I probably plant my bitterness a little deeper and even nurture it happily, feeling SO right in my anger. I do this destructive planting, with full knowledge... that LOVE cannot be nourished in my life, cannot grow or bear any fruit...if my heart makes room for any of these things that it 'is not.'

This "Love is not _____ List" may be one of the most practical sets of words to meditate on.

But really, my favorite words come later.
The words that help me understand just a little bit better just how wide and how long and how high is the the love of Christ...

Love
PROTECTS...

Love...
...bears all things,
believes all things,
hopes all things,
endures all things.

Love never fails.

I just can't get over this beautiful picture of love
protecting,
sheltering,
building,
and holding up.

Hoping (instead of despairing).

Enduring... without end.

How ugly and small and foolish....seem all the selfish, delusions of "love" that I am so prone to run toward. How disgusting is my selfishness and pettiness, my doubt and worry... in light of this enormous and powerful picture of LOVE.

I think Paul was kind of ranting on the many ways that love (was then, and) is so often misrepresented and mistaken for cheaper versions of 'happiness' and shallow attraction to things and relationships that seem like they will satisfy. The word 'love' is even used to disguise and justify our most hurtful, self-gratifying, manipulative, destructive acts.

This misrepresentation of love, this epidemic blindness to, and distortion of love sometimes make me feel hopeless. When I look around and see too many broken things, I tend to put people and circumstances and problems into compartments in my mind that to me, are beyond the reach of love. They seem unsolvable and too ugly to be healed by love, so I try to harden my heart around them so that they don't hurt quite as much, and I am not surprised and disappointed by the destruction and loss. But no matter how I might harden my heart and forget what I know to be true....

LOVE still...

...bears all things,
believes all things,
hopes all things,
endures all things.

Love never fails.

...thoughts I needed to remember from this morning's teaching from I Corinthians 13.