The Cycle of Life

You can safely say that I have a very warped view of life and death. On one hand I gave birth to 2 children albeit in a very unusual fashion. Not only were both deliveries natural and drug free but they were on the extreme end of the labor spectrum - 2.5 and 1.5 hours from start to finish. So I can't really talk to anyone about labor or delivery or any of that. And on the other hand, my first experience with death was that of my 9 year old brother. That's not normal either. However, since that time I have experienced all sorts of deaths of relatives, neighbors and friends. With this said, I am also blessed to still be in the presence of my 102 year old grandfather. So the cycle of life is a little convoluted for me.

I recognize the miracle of birth and revel in it especially with my newly achieved grandmother status. Being a generation removed gives you the perspective of utter and complete awe. But the death end is still baffling to me.

About the time that my daughter was preparing for the birth of her baby, we got word of a cancer diagnosis in the Sutter community. I have known a lot of people with cancer and have witnessed them fight the fight of their life. Some of them fought for years and years and others were only months. So I don't have that dreaded C response to cancer. And I truly believe that there are people in the world who can fend it off with prayer and support and the utter will to live. Carol is one of those people. The diagnosis was just words to me. I knew if anybody in the world could beat this, it would be her. I never doubted for a second that she would be here next year and the year after that and the year after that.

She worked her last day of the year a week ago to begin her therapy. Still I didn't worry. I knew she would be back next year to fulfill her plan of retiring in 2011 and go out the way she wanted.

Her chemo started last Thursday and the news came on Tuesday that the prognosis had deteriorated and that her time was short. There was no option but to retire this year. So today I attended the district Recognition Tea and watched the entire district applaud her and stand in solidarity with her family to show our appreciation for the thousands of families of which she has become a part. Carol is that teacher you want to become. She is the teacher that never tires of tweaking her lessons and units to be even better than they were before. She loves everything about teaching, the kids, the parents, the administrators, everything. As she exits Sutter, my heart is heavy. I'm not ready for the good-bye stage. I know that I don't get to choose and that death doesn't wait for the living to prepare. So today, I am just sad, so terribly sad for the loss to our students, our community and our circle of friends. A baby to hold right now would sure make me feel a whole lot better. The reminder of the circle of life.

That Says It All

I received a little Grandma gift in the mail today. It says, "Grandchildren fill a space in your heart you never knew was empty. I read it and shouted, "That's it!" That is exactly what I've been trying to figure out in this journey into grandparenthood. It is like being all filled up on an amazing meal or feast. And then when you think back you didn't notice you were hungry. All you feel is contentment, satisfaction and love, lots and lots of love.

Grandma Alone Time

This term has morphed from babysitting to Baby Loving to Grandma Alone Time. Last night was the beginning of something wonderful, creating that one of a kind relationship with Callie Girl. I love seeing this child, no matter who is around but being alone with her just takes it to the next level. We walked and talked and sang and played and I loved every second of it. She is constantly changing with new faces and sounds and movements. It is just fun hanging out with this beautiful girl. But to be alone with her was the best. It is the start of all the visions I have of what our together time will be - baking (eating), gardening (playing in the dirt), going for walks, sharing our stories and laughing together. To see her looking up at me and knowing that the love in those big beautiful eyes was meant for no one else but me melted my heart.

I constantly have the feeling of how blessed I am to be in this place and time. I love this Grandma stuff. Everything else just falls away and the only thing that matters is this beautiful child and all that awaits each of us on this journey that we call Callie.

Loving Spring at School

I know that some teachers dread this time of year because their students suddenly begin to appear much more like next year's students but I love it. Today I reveled in watching some of my more challenging kids skipping about the quad. And all I could think was how independent and self assured they appeared to be. This is what we work for all year in 6th grade. We take these budding pre-teens who have no idea about where they are or where they are going next and work to build their responsibility and independence so they can move forward into 7th grade. Teaching is so close to parenting you can almost reach out and touch it. We love and nurture and discipline our babies and then suddenly our time is over and we must release them knowing that we have given them our very best. Yes, we worry that they will stumble along the way but we also know that they must do the rest of the journey on their own. So in the next few weeks, I will prepare to send another group of kids off into their unknown futures while I step back and watch them take those first few steps away from me.

Mother's Day Once Removed

My greatest thrill of Mother's Day ever has been watching my own baby as mother to her baby. I swear I will never tire of seeing the two of them together. Mother's Day has had its ups and downs in my life. And now it feels like I can release my role in it completely. I love that my grown kids want and need to say thank you for all that I given to them. And I love being able to do the same for my own mom. But nothing can compare to a take out breakfast at Maria and Bill's, hanging out, passing Callie around from mom to dad to grandmas and grandpas to uncle and seeing that same look of love in everyone's eyes. I love this time of life. It just can't get any better than these simple pleasures.

Happiness Through Others

I live a very contented life. I suppose it is mostly because I don't do anything that doesn't make me happy. But lately I have discovered that I can feel the deepest happiness when people I care about are happy. This is new. I have always had the ability to be happy FOR others but never have I felt deep personal happiness when others are happy. This picture is the epitome of a mother's love for me. It still makes me cry when I look at it. I can feel what Maria feels. I've been there and I know that love. But last night it happened again. Ralph is finally going to Italy. I have been wishing for this since I was there 4 years ago. And he is finally doing it. This is an amazing event for so many reasons. But as we talked about it, I had that same feeling. I was just so happy that he was going to have this amazing journey to the homeland of his ancestors. It's not that he will feel what I did when I was there but that he will know what it is to be home and connected and at one with his history in space and time. As I thought about it, I was actually happier that he was going than I would have been if I were going there myself.

This feeling of happiness through others must be another one of those things that begins to take hold as you age. You somehow gain the ability to actually feel the feelings of those you care about. Their feelings become yours. It is a wonderful thing to finally be outside of yourself and experience this depth of love for others. I really do like the aging process and being on the backside of the circle of life. I love the perspective of having done all that I wanted and now being the source of support for others that follow me.

I Get the Grandma Thing

A week ago my world was rocked to its very core and I will never again be the same. I took the title Grandma Tere and held Callie Helena in my arms for the very first time. It is the most incredible experience I have had since my own children were born. But this is just raw emotion, pure unadulterated love. I finally understand what all the buzz is about.

For several years, friends and siblings have been telling me how great it is to be a grandparent. I would just smile and nod. I was that mom who accepted her children for who they were. If my kids didn't want to be parents, I was totally fine with that. One thing I did not want to be a part of was bringing children into the world when the parents weren't ready for the responsibility of a long term commitment. The minute, I saw Callie, that all flew out the window. Being a grandparent is absolutely wonderful. It is all of the love you felt as a parent but none of the worry. It is the joy of seeing the growth of your family, the final culmination of what your own parenting has wrought. I am so thankful that I didn't know any of this years ago or I would have been that nagging mother, asking when, when are you going to have a baby?

I am not the type of person who is very content just sitting. But I could sit and watch Callie all day. I marvel at her daily changes, the little faces she makes, how she flails her arms and legs and how she snuggles into your shoulder and takes any worries you had and melts them away. There is nothing like it. She is beautiful and perfect and my new great love.

The piece I am still puzzling over is that when I think about her or my daughter and son-in-law with her I still cry. But when I'm there it just all seems so right. It is all the way it is supposed to be. I will never ever tire of seeing the three of them together. It is the reminder that there is this deep abiding love in the world and that when two people really love each other they can accomplish anything.

It is the funniest thing that you can love something so tiny so deeply. I just met her a week ago but I know that if there was anything she wanted I would find a way to get it for her. I love seeing her personality come out in her movements and cannot wait until there is language to go with it. I am busy dreaming of all the things we will do together, the sound of her laughter and of all the ways I will define "Grandma" so that she will know the joy that she has brought to my world.

Mom Always Get to Decide

There is a volcano erupting in Iceland. Iceland, you might say; who cares about Iceland? Well it turns out that a lot of people do. It seems that jets don't do well flying through clouds of ash and rocks. So, people all over the world are literally stranded. They are either stuck where they are or are finding slower forms of transportation. I love that Mother Nature always wins. She is ultimately in charge and there's nothing that can be done about it. Humans believe that they can truly dominate the planet and then something like this happens that makes everyone aware that we are like little ants in the scheme of things. We may think that we are in charge until the wake up call comes and says, "Sit down and rest a bit. You don't need to go anywhere for a while. Take a few days and enjoy where you are in this moment." OK Mom, you win.

The Spiritual Side of Bread

Part of my journey into "real food" is also a journey into personal involvement with my food. As a result, I have made a commitment to bake my own bread. I toyed around with bread baking when the kids were little and again many years later with bread machines. Now that I am increasing whole grains in my diet, I am looking at how to make whole grain breads that taste good. Enter the new cookbook: Peter Reinhart's Whole Grain Breads. Peter is a baker who shares his personal journey into whole grain bread baking, the good, the bad and the ugly. His writing includes his anecdotes, the science of whole grains as well as the theory of the delayed fermentation process. His love of bread comes through loud and clear. This is my favorite quote from the book.

Bread is the ultimate transformational food. Its ingredients are not only radically changed from one thing into something completely different, but more significantly, and unlike any other food, bread actually goes through two transformations in its journery from the earth to the table. Let me explain.

To make bread, we harvest the caryopsis (the seed) from living grass, taking the life of that grass. Usually, but not exclusively, that grass is wheat. Then we grind the seed into flour, taking even its potential for future life. During the mixing stage, we combine this flour with salt and water and turn it into a claylike mixture. When infused with leaven, it gradually comes to life as it rises and becomes bread dough. (It may help to know that the dictionary definition of leaven is "to enliven, to vivify; to bring to life.") This is the first transformation.

After several succeeding stages of the bread maing process - fermentation, shaping, resting, and so on - the baking stage arrives and a second transformation occurs. Living dough enters a hot oven, as the internal temperature of the dough passes 139 degrees (the dough's thermal death point), all life ceases. In order to complete its mission of raising the dough and transforming it into bread, the leaven gives up its own life too.

These two transformations help to explain our fascination and love for bread. Whether literally or symbolically, the ingredients are radically transformed and so, at times, is the baker. The road from wheat to eat takes many twists and turns, verging at times on seemingly mysterious, alchemical changes. And the ultimate loaf experienced, finally at stage twelve (eating!) is a creature totally unlike the grass seeds ground into flour from which it originated.

It's All About Time

Spring Break. Ahhhh... What is that sigh about? It is an emptiness, a sudden silence. It is the temporary end to the stress of interesting kids, curious parents, schedules, lesson plans, and thoughts about plans for next year. It is being "home." It is time. Time to think. Time to do whatever comes into your mind. The rhythm of middle school has a very quick beat. 52 minute periods with 5 minutes in between. It is controlled by bells. There is no end to them. Day after day, week after week. Hurry and teach. Hurry and correct these papers and input the grades. Hurry and take care of these special ed forms, and student awards and attendance reports. There is no time to reflect and just sit back and enjoy your love of the kids and the job. It is always on to the next thing. The next unit, the next quarter, state testing, scheduling for next year. There is no end until it ends. But spring break is that tiny little moment to breathe again. The rhythm of "home" is slow and methodical. It is what do I need to do today, followed by what do I want to do today. It is time for lunch with friends and spur of the moment cups of coffee. It is the awareness of time passing but knowing that the exact time it is doesn't matter. There are no bells and if it doesn't get done today then maybe it will tomorrow or may it just isn't that important. I am loving this time and all the possibility it holds.

Michael Pollan Has Changed My Life

A look into my "pantry" is a bit shocking these days. You won't find anything that wasn't in my great-grandmother's. No instant anything, only real food. A month ago I read Michael Pollan's book, The Omnivore's Dilemma and I haven't been the same since. I finally understand all that went on with our food supply while I was a child and how it continues with Monsanto's ownership/patent of corn and soy seeds. I get why we are able to make almost anything from corn and soy beans. I understand what agribusiness has done to the word organic and that free range means only that there is a door that leads to the outside. I also understand that humans have attempted to change cows' digestive system from ruminants into grain eaters. It doesn't work. It's why they get sick and must be slaughtered at such young ages.

I am finally aware. There are some things that come into my life at the exact moment I am ready to act upon them. It turns out that Michael Pollan is one of those things. I have read 2 of his books, seen him on a couple talk shows, watched Food Inc and The No Impact Man all in the span of a couple months. It has all gelled together into a whole new way of looking at my food. There is a part of me that is ashamed that it has taken so long for me to become more knowledgeable about what goes in my body but as always, I embrace the change.

What does this mean for me? My kitchen has only real food and I am working hard on an attempt to eat locally (although I fudge on my coffee beans and will buy them from Mexico and Guatemala). This means most of my food shopping is done at the Farmer's Market. I am back to drinking real milk. I am off high fructose corn syrup and any sort of hydrogenated fat. I would say that I have become a label reader but most real food doesn't come with labels. My label reading is more about what is left in the pantry. I have torn out my lawn and planted food in its place. And I have never been more content with living authentically.

I am part of the Slow Food movement. The result is that I am completely present to the moment. The food I eat is a choice and I choose not to eat fast food of any sort. I am voting with my fork. I am much closer to my food sources than I have ever been before and I have a personal connection to everything I eat. I am committed to my weekly trip to the Farmer's Market.

I love watching how things are changing around me, how more people are buying locally and seasonally, the CSAs that have become a new way of shopping, more talk about grass fed animals, and more awareness of terms like organic, free range and vegetarian. Yes, Michael Pollan has changed my life and I couldn't be happier.

Crossroads on the Journey

I had another of those moments where I knew I had gone through the bad times so that I could lead someone else through them. One of my before-school students fail to show up on Thursday. So I of course let her have it about commitment, responsibility, blah, blah, blah to which she responded with 2 single tears rolling down each cheek and the garbled response "I think my parents are getting a divorce." All I could do was hold her close and open the door for her to come running in. So on Friday, I did no teaching of reading but I did give her absolutely everything she needed to make it through the day. The hard times were indeed hard but I have had several occasions now where I have realilzed why it had to be the way it was. I am stronger and wiser and have the honor of holding the hand of others while I sometimes pull them along and other times stand behind so they can keep trudging forward. This student is definitely on my mind and I pray that she has what she needs to get through the week until we see each other again. Stay strong, baby and know that grown-up fighting is never ever about the children left in its wake.

Getting to Know 6th Grade

I was thinking late this afternoon after school, after the faculty meeting, after the department meeting called to finish scoring the writing assessments that I am just beginning to get to know these creatures called middle schoolers. Then it occurred to me that after only 2 years in middle school I have taught 120 different kids. That would have taken me 6 years in primary! So I guess it makes sense that I am starting to get a handle on this job. Hooray for me. Give me a couple more years and I'll be something to behold.

Letting Them Go

One of my greatest struggles in my move to middle school has been allowing kids to fail. That was simply never an issue in elementary school. You sat beside those challenging kids and supported, cajoled and put your hand around theirs to guide that pencil until the deed was done. There was no failing as long as the scaffold was there to catch them before they fell. I prided myself on the ability of every child to achieve success. It was exhausting work but at the end of the year, I sent them on knowing that I had given it everything I had. Last year was my first experience with the notion that if a kid wants to fail, you can't stop them. There is really nothing you can do as a teacher to make them care if the desire isn't there. It was a difficult thing for me to understand and I had many teary nights over one and only one student. I knew that he was put in my life for many valuable lessons so I tried to absorb them as best I could. Well, it's that time of year again where it becomes clear that there are just some kids who I am not going to be able to "save." I have to walk away and let them go to see if they will follow. They seem determined to stumble and fall. I could pick them up again and again but it quickly becomes a game of watching me swoop from behind and stand them up only to look at me, laugh and fall over again. I have set the bar but its up to them to actually lift their feet off the ground and clear it. Last week I had one of those moments where I knew I had hit the wall. It was time to wave the white flag and just see what they could do. Last year I did that over and over again because I just couldn't get it. But the lesson seems to have sunk in a little deeper. This time around I can leave it up to the kids and wait for them to realize that it's now their turn. This is their moment to either make it or break it. Mom can't do it, Dad can't do it and neither can I. It's one of the things I love about middle school. It is the crossroads to growing up; the moment when they first begin to realize who they are and what they are made of. I can't get in the way of that realization, of their becoming who they happen to be at the moment. I can only offer my assistance; it is up to them to accept it and take the first step down that road.

I Have Great Faith in a Seed

It is spring both in time and life. I have been hard at work clearing a piece of dirt in my yard for food. This has been a thought of mine for the entire 10 years I have lived in this house. As with so many things in my life, I think thoughts and dream dreams and one day I wake up and know the time is right for it to come into being. So my back yard is now home to a few plants that will feed me both physically and spiritually. There's just something about being a part of growing things. It was a part of my childhood by simply growing up in Iowa but it is also part of the legacy my family has passed on to me. There is nothing better than the taste of food picked fresh from the garden.

My plan was to plant early so on the first day of spring, there I was out digging in the dirt. I love the feel of dirt under my fingernails. It is the ultimate of being connected to the earth. During my first few ventures in the spring I have to feel the dirt on my fingertips. It is the joy of experiencing the garden with all my senses. As time goes on, the gloves must be used as my fingernails begin shedding and the skin on my fingers feels like it has been drug over bricks.

Because of my early start this year, there were very few plants available but as I was leaving the nursery I looked over and saw the rack of seeds. Of course! Why wait for seedlings? I was reminded of gardening when the kids were little. My own gardening days started with seeds. Hoeing the rows and dropping in the seeds by hand was the beginning of a wonderful adventure. It is the drama of which ones will sprout first, the thinning and the blooms that become tomatoes and beans and berries. How did I lose my way and depend on someone else to sprout my seeds; something a child can do?

Being in the gardening mood, I read Seedfolks by Paul Fleishman, a tiny little middle school book about a "vacant" lot that becomes a community garden and how the lives of the gardeners are changed through the planting of seeds. In the author's notes, he tells his own gardening history. It occurred to me; do the kids today have a gardening history? Are there still moms out there planting seeds with their kids and eating fresh fruits and vegetables right out of the garden? Is anyone still creating those memories for them of the importance of growing things out of the dirt?

So this weekend, I will find time to plant some seeds. In the words of Henry David Thoreau, "I have great faith in a seed. Convince me that you have a seed there and I am prepared to expect wonders."

You Don't Have to Undersand Crazy

Our vice principal learned this rule of life in middle school years ago and is doing her best to instill it in those around her. The sign above her door says "Chaos Manager." I'm beginning to wonder if we don't all need one of those signs. I don't want to say that this was a rough week but it was certainly a rough ending that I am still trying to process. I don't want to understand crazy but I do want to find a place to put it in my brain so I can move forward. I have clearly seen things in middle school this year because of my reading intervention class that it might have taken me another 5 years to experience in my bubble world of regular education. One of those things is attempting to educate our most challenging student from 6th grade. I am now calling this, witnessing the evolution of a delinquent. Last year teachers said all sorts of "crazy" things about him to us - don't waste your energy, just send him to the office, he'll drop out, he'll go to Gateway in high school. None of that made any sense to me. This was a kid who loved derailing any lesson he could but mostly didn't want to try and fail and loved to take anyone else out with him that he could. His power was in his charisma. Well we have gone from a kid who didn't do his work to a kid that doesn't come to school. Instead of taking kids out of the lesson, he takes kids with him out of school. It feels like a train that is careening out of control off the tracks and down a mountaintop. It simply can't be stopped. I am slowly finding a place to understand this. As teachers, we must sometimes just admit that we are powerless. But the clincher for me this week has been a parent that after a serious of letters to teachers and phone calls from the principal has taken her son out of school to home school him. This is definitely a first for me and my partner teacher. She and I have both been accused of targeting her son and publicly humiliating him. The mother refused to meet with the teachers, the vice principal and finally the principal. She believes that her child is the perfect son and is not capable of doing any of the things he has been accused of and freely admitted to the teachers and principal that he did do. I've heard parents threaten to rip their kids our of school in the middle of the year because of teachers but I've never actually seen it done. It leaves a very bitter taste in your mouth that I can't seem to shake. It's not a sense of failing a student because there is nothing that could have been done by any of us to stop this, it is more my worry of what will become of this boy. Who will he grow up thinking he is and how will he find his place in the world? His mother believes he is perfect, yes really perfect! She had no understanding of why all these people were saying such "horrible" things about her son. Now this boy is a performer; he loves an audience. I try to imagine him writing and sharing his amazing stories or learning the Greek myths with no one but his family to appreciate his accomplishments. Maybe that's what's keeping me stuck. He is smart, bright and has so much to bring to the world. And this mom has chosen to keep those gift hidden away. As mothers and as teachers we don't have that right. Our children and students are given to us to ready for the world so that we will all live in a better place. It's why we do what we do. The glory of this job is to model and guide and support and then stand back and be amazed while these children take flight in the world. So to this student I say, I wish you well, my son, and pray that some day you will find your voice and we will all be better because you shared your gifts with the world. Be well and grow up strong.

Weekends Are Holding Me Together

It is a challenging year. Let's start with that. But lately my primary focus in life is getting to Friday. I still love my job and do not wake up feeling bad about going to work but by the end of the day I am definitely ready to go home. Each day has become another halting step toward the weekend. And when I wake up on Saturday morning I breathe it in as deeply as I can. I wallow in it. I enjoy every second of that 48 hours. By the time Monday morning rolls around again I have mentally prepared myself for the next week moving ever closer to Spring Break.

I am a reflector so I insist on knowing the why. I know that October and March are definitely my hardest months in teaching. In October I doubt that I will even get through the first quarter without banging my head against the wall. And March is just too long. It's the reason that I once had a Catholic school principal who insisted on leaving one of our days off until either St. Partrick's or St. Joseph's Day. But this is much more than the normal unending March. First there is the reading intervention class. Not much is getting better in that room. I do have control of the classroom but there is still all the game playing, messing with computers and general avoidance of anything that would make them better readers. It is just simply exhausting.

One of my groups of students is filled with some of most interesting students I've ever seen before. As you look around the room, you just know that more than half of them would benefit from some sort of counseling. And so would their parents. I know that part of my job is counseling and I don't mind doing a bit of it. But around about now, I would like to see some results. And, frankly, some of these kids don't act a bit differently today than they did way back when in August. It is still me following them around with lists of missing assignments and reminding them of what an a 50% F does to a C average. It's me making a big deal about homework. It's me going on and on about attention, focus, and following through. I'm just tired.

The other class is certainly entertaining but it has a few challenges too. Reminders about talking without permission are non-stop. More talk about attention, focus and follow through. A few groups are now learning how to listen to each other and accept a differing point of view without shouting over each other. So maybe there is progress being made.

This also is the importance of a weekend; to be able to look back and say, "Hey! Maybe something did happen this week. Maybe I did make a difference in one or two of them. And maybe I can do it again next week." And then one day I will wake up and it will be another Saturday. I'll be drinking my coffee and breathing in the weekend and suddenly it will occur to me that it is April 10th. I will shout for joy, "OH MY GOD, I'M ON SPRING BREAK!"

Tips for Success

Given the incredible events that have happened in the Shark Team classrooms the past couple weeks, it is clear that we need to pump up our curriculum to include some basic tips to be successful in the world. I think that next year you may hear Ms. Allen's Tips for Success in the first week of school.

You do not get to shout out in class - even if you are the funniest kid in the world

If you are given an assignment AND extra time at home to complete it, don't ask the teacher the next day "What if you're not done?"

No audible moaning when a teacher introduces the topic of the day or the upcoming unit of study

Don't ever roll your eyes at the teacher (or any other adult)

Don't make mean or ugly faces at a teacher

And do not, I repeat, DO NOT talk back to the teacher when you have already irritated her with audible moans, rolled eyes and ugly faces!

Class dismissed!

The Highs and Lows of Life Lived Fully

Yesterday was one of those days that could be a metaphor for the ups and downs of an entire lifetime. We soar like a kite set free on the highs and plummet to the ground with a deafening crash as we suddenly realize we have lost our safety net.

March 2nd is always circled and starred on my calendar. This year it was the celebration of my grandfather's 102nd birthday. Birthdays are now and always have been a big deal in my family. It's YOUR day, one out of 365. For me there is no difference between the feelings that surround birthday celebrations today and those of my childhood. And Grandpa is 102! I have to say that the longer my grandfather lives, the fewer words I have to express my feelings about him. He is just the best thing ever.

This same day also brought another middle school first. One of our students was kicked out of her house by her mother. I'm still searching for a place to put this in my head and heart. 24 hours later, it is still floating adrift. She is lucky enough to temporarily be living with her grandparents but for the first time in a long time I had the inclination to take a student home with me. Jack could have healed a lot of her pain - not all of it because it's running pretty deep these days but a loving beagle can do more than one would think. I wanted her to be able to sleep deeply and wake up to breakfast and love and the knowledge that she mattered.

And then the crowning blow hit. A much loved teacher at Sutter was diagnosed with cancer. The original diagnosis was lung and pancreatic. Today brought kidney, liver and spleen. I am praying as hard as I know how and still feel like it is not enough. Every spare minute brings me back to thoughts of her, her family, the Sutter community and all the lives she has touched in her 44 years of teaching.

These events all bring me screeching back to the knowledge that I live in a very protective bubble. I always have. I was raised in Iowa in a time when life was just simpler. I loved being able to run free and know that home was always waiting for me at the end of the day. I believed that everything always eventually had a happy ending. I want to believe that again. 6th graders did not get kicked out of their homes. Nobody close to me got sick and died. So here I am all grown up and trying as hard as I can to patch up my bubble to feel safe again. But as quickly as I fix one tear another one splits open. I can't seem to keep the sadness of the world out this time.

But tomorrow is my sister's birthday. So it is time to celebrate again. Yes, our lives are filled with highs and lows, joys and sorrows. The highs are higher because of the lows. It is the yin and the yang, the balance of the universe that keeps us moving forward. We party hard with the good times and do the best we can to pick up the pieces of our heart in the bad times. And through it all we revel in the love that surrounds us. We support one another as best we can and know that in the end we have lived life fully.

Happy Birthday Grandpa 2010

Happy Birthday, Grandpa,
Here you are at 102 and still counting. Amazing! That is the only word that comes to mind. I have been amazed by you for my entire life. Yet still when I think of you today, that is the one word that comes to mind, amazing. It is amazing that you have accomplished the things you have, that you have loved each of us as deeply and unconditionally as you have and that you have lived life so simply and completely in the process. It is a model I continually strive to imitate.

Today, more than ever I find myself thinking of how to be more like Grandpa. In a few weeks, I too will bare the title of grandparent. And you, once again are my model. My earliest memories of you are those of pure love and happiness. They are smiles, and hugs, and laughter. The memories don’t include events or places; it was enough just to be with you. We shared little jokes that made me feel like I was special. You and I would just laugh and laugh at nothing in particular. Your arm around me was all I ever needed, even in the worst of times. My childhood memories are full of you. Then, as now, I just loved being in your presence. But the strange thing is that all six of your grandchildren felt the same way. You made every one of us feel loved and wanted and one-of-a-kind. You had a way of somehow knowing who we were at our very core long before we knew ourselves. The time you spent with each of us made a difference that lives on today. Not only do we carry forth your love inside of us, but it also becomes the seed that is planted in the future generations as we, your grandchildren, now attempt to follow your example as grandparents.

So as I consider my new role as grandma and following your example, here is my list of things to do:

Smile that “Grandpa” smile
Hug, hug again and then hug some more
Laugh at nothing at all; it will be the glue that holds us tight
Tinker together
Remember that good-byes should always last a long time
Listen and understand and never, never judge
Be a safe place to fall; no matter what happens, everything will be OK if Grandma is there

These are the grandparent lessons I have learned from you; smile, hug, laugh. You have always been that safe place for me where I knew I was loved in that one-of-a-kind way. I can’t wait to hold my own granddaughter in my arms the same way that you held me. If I learned my lessons well, someday there will be a little girl telling everyone she knows all about her amazing Grandma Tere.

Happy birthday, Grandpa!