6 Months After the UHaul

Well, today marks 6 months since the U-Haul backed out of my driveway in Bisbee and made its way through the tunnel toward my new life.  It’s been a whirlwind.  A year ago, I was only beginning to entertain the idea of moving and then just like that-in what felt like a blink of an eye, an opportunity came up that moved my life from zero to 100 just like that. With only a small window to decide, I made a decision that I could barely justify in my own mind, but somehow felt like the right thing deep down in my heart.  I left everything I knew and had grown accustomed for my entire life—primarily to escape the backstabbing, highly political and environment of BUSD and the ongoing drama in my life—but mostly to focus on serenity and peace for my little family, who had far too long put up with a level of stress that made me less available to them.

So, 6 months later, here are my thoughts…

I am healthier in so many ways. Physically, I’ve dropped almost 20 pounds, emotionally I must have dropped 1,000.  My new job is still incredibly demanding—in fact, my responsibilities here are much greater. But I am able to work with great efficiency, because the emotional stress does not weigh me down.  As a family, we have bonded at a deeper level.  In Bisbee Dante and I were running ourselves into the ground—here we are focused on the growth of our children and the time we have gained from making that the ultimate priority has given rise to a wonderful bond between us all. 

I have also gained a ton of new perspective. I can’t understand how I allowed myself to fall into a pattern in which I remained in a situation where my value was minimized by a handful of people.  For so long, I thought I had an obligation to stick it out and not let them win. My pride kept me miserable. The fact is, nobody who put a hurdle in my path is claiming any level of victory over my life. I didn’t lose—I won by walking away.  I didn’t surrender to them, I surrendered to the useless drama.  I know now, there is only one arena in which I will ever refuse to surrender- and that is the fight for my family.  I also went through phases where I hoped with time, people would relent and move towards the center. I have this unyielding, and perhaps naive belief that as humans we are programmed more with kindness and good—and that with time and good intentions steering our ship, we can navigate rough waters and work our way towards calm. The truth is there are some people you cannot hope to change.  But, as my husband always says, while you cannot control their behavior, you can certainly control your response.  I found myself wrestling in the mud too often, which goes against the better part of me.  I was so immersed in hateful drama that I started to become the hateful drama. I did not recognize myself anymore.  And so I walked away.

I also stuck it out for so long for one more reason.  I felt an obligation to the students, staff and community I had always served and had a vision I desperately wanted for those kids.  This isn’t fluff. I really mean this. I trusted my own flesh and blood in that school system and there isn’t anything I want more for them than a sound education. How much more invested could I be? When I entered public education 10 years ago I had such a strong optimism and passion for public education.  I truly, truly believed it could change lives…save lives.  By the latter part of my time in Bisbee that passion had dwindled.  I was so exhausted. Again, I didn’t recognize my own spirit.  My belief in education had always been so deeply engrained in me—and yet, by the end, I was so deflated by the overriding politics and personal agendas taking priority over those simple beliefs that my flame just slowly faded into the darkness.  That’s exactly when I knew I had to move on…if I had become so polarizing that it was more about the politics surrounding me and not about the kids, I had to go.  Still breaks my heart. The truth is in my new school there is such a need. There are stories here that would blow your mind—kids who arrive in taxi cabs from group homes and others who wear the same outfit days on end. I am committed to them, without a doubt, but grieving the fact that I am not serving BUSD.  Fortunately, I have regained my passion and my belief in our system because here the politics take a back seat, and that means everything. However, I will always feel regret for walking away from Bisbee schools. As much as I love the students here, and believe me, I do…there’s something about serving your hometown kids that just means something more.  I’ll spend forever trying to overcome that decision…

I will say, while the change has been revitalizing…it has not all been rainbows and sunshine. Letting go comes with a lot of pain.  One of the greatest challenges has been watching my husband give up coaching.   He started with BHS basketball as a volunteer coach a year out of graduating high school and has been involved every year since. He sat patiently in volunteer positions, assistant coach and JV positions, until finally he had the awesome opportunity to stand at the helm.  Amazing kids, amazing chemistry... I get so frustrated with people who knock the sports experience.  I can’t tell you how many kids he had the opportunity to mentor and change.  It wasn’t ever just about basketball, it was about kids from Naco and Bisbee with barriers in life you couldn’t possibly imagine. The court provided a place to reach them, to mentor them, to challenge them and teach them lessons that translate into life. Hard work, teamwork, sacrifice, failure, victory, character.  On Thanksgiving he got a text message from one of his players, now a senior- ‘coach, thanks for everything.”  I know Dante walked away from something that meant so much to him for me and I hurt everyday thinking about that sacrifice. Tonight we’ll travel to Desert Christian to watch the boys in their season opener and experience BHS basketball from a vantage point foreign to him—from the sidelines. 

…and so it goes, as they say, life does go on.  I have yet to come to terms with everything I experienced the last 5 years or so in Bisbee. I think for me, I’m in that phase right after a massive storm, where you are thankful you made it out, but are stumbling through the rubble, assessing the damage, and knowing full and well that life will never be the same.  The past 5 years brought my greatest life challenges. My professional and personal life stood in the ring and fought a bloody battle against life.   It shook my faith, reshaped my view of humanity, and pushed me to my emotional limits. But most of all, it changed me.  I watched my mom go through cancer, a heart attack, and several very scary episodes. I had my character, my values, and my intentions scrutinized publicly.  Relationships changed- some moved towards a deeper level than I could have ever hoped for…others were lost along the way- some which cut so deep I still grieve for them and maybe always will.  I stood in crowds of supporters and in empty rooms- alone with only the chaos of my life. I questioned myself and my own integrity. And that was just the emotional aspects of my life. Physically I carried all this weight while raising two kids, adding a new baby, entering into a doctoral program, and working as a principal. I stumbled many times along the way. I made decisions out of pure emotion, hurt people I loved…I was far from perfect. But at the end of most days I made every effort to find my center, reach for my moral compass, and reunite my heart with my integrity.  I spent the greater part of the last several years fighting like hell to keep my soul alive, my passions in tact, and my strength at the center.

I made it through that storm…there is rubble everywhere, but the foundation remains. I’m rebuilding.

There’s so much more that has happened internally the past 6 months and so much work left to do.  I am far from repaired.  But, at least for now, I have begun the healthy work of regaining my composure after stumbling down a dark path for many, many months. The sun is peeking through the trees and these tiny laser beams are shining specks of hope on the road ahead. 6 Months after the UHaul...I'm hanging on....

 

Dear Sophia

Dear Sophia,

I'd like to get this letter in before you make your appearance into the world. I have about a month left until your official due date--but if my instincts are in tact, I think you will be here a little sooner.  There's some things I'd like you to know about the world you are about to enter and what life is like right now.

First, know that you are a blessing.  I struggled for years with the idea of having another baby. I wanted you so very badly, but 4 years ago I stepped into a very demanding career and thought that because of that choice, I would have to sacrifice the idea of expanding our family.  I'm so glad I got my priorities straight and realized that there isn't a career in this world that will ever be more important than the blessing of a family.  That is not to say that this decision has been an easy one--juggling you and this career will undoubtedly be one of the most difficult things I've ever done. But I want you to know that it's a sacrifice worth making to get to know you, to get to love you, to get to have you share my last name, share in the laughter of your siblings, share in the memories of every Christmas, Thanksgiving, summer vacation and more.  You are a blessing in every way.

You also need to know that you are so profoundly and deeply loved.  I have had the awesome privilege of loving Dante and Isabelle. There is nothing like it.  I already love you and I already feel connected to you.  I know that it will come as naturally to love you as it has to love your big brother and sister. Know that this is a short paragraph only because trying to express that love in writing is an impossibility that even I cannot begin to surmount. I think your big sister says it best--"I love you so much, I don't even know how much I love you." It's pretty incomprehensible.

You should also know that you are fortunate enough to have an amazing father.  I have never known a man more committed to his children than your daddy. He loves Dante and Isabelle so much. It's crazy how attached he is to them. He loves to play with them, to joke with them, to laugh with them. He is very protective and heavily involved in every aspect of their life.  You will not have to worry about getting attention from your daddy. He's a hugger too.  He will hug you a lot. And everyday (several times a day) he will tell you that he loves you.  He will do just about anything for you. (here's a little hint that your brother and sister have figured out--he has a really, really hard time saying no when you want something--Isabelle especially has figured out how to maximize off of this weakness wherever we go).  He loves trips to Dairy Queen, will support whatever weird thing you are into (please, please just don't let it be Pokemon like Dante and Isabelle), and will get the greatest joy out of your successes and achievement.  He will also carry a broken heart everywhere he goes for you and your sadness.   You are so lucky, Sophia, because your daddy is in my opinion, the best daddy a little girl could have.

You will also be blessed with a wonderful set of siblings. Dante, your older brother, is very wise. Take note of his old soul. He is analytical, intelligent, and the kindest heart you will ever know.   Learn from him.  Mimic his talents and his intellect. View the world from his eyes, because it's not only a magical place from his perspective, but it's full of curiosity and an eagerness to seek answers to an array of questions.  Learn how to be generous, compassionate, and enduring from him. Your older sister has been thrilled about your existence since the day we told her about you.  Everyday she greets me with a hug, then pats my belly and talks to you.  You will love her free spirit, her independence, and her strong will.  From her you will learn how to have a strong voice in this world and how to laugh from the depths of your belly.  You are so blessed to have them as your models and guides in this world. I trust them, their perspective, and their relationship with the world to provide a magical roadmap for your follow.

There are many more people who love you and who are anxiously awaiting your entrance into the world and they too will love you and embrace you.  My hope for you is that you are always surrounded by their love and that you know what it means to have an abundance of people who you can turn to whenever you need help, support and love in this world.

I know that by accepting you into my life, I am also accepting some difficulties along the way. No matter how hard I try, I will not be able to protect you from the inevitable heartbreaks you will undoubtedly stumble upon along the way.  People will let you down.  Things will sometimes not turn out how you hoped.  You will be disappointed and your heart will break more times than I ever wish I had to think about.  Life is hard.  You will struggle, you will cry, you will want to give up. You will fail at things.  But, my sweet baby girl, there isn't a bridge you will cross alone in this world. I will be by your side every step of the way, loving you, guiding you, and holding your hand.   And when you are ready someday to take these things on yourself, I will be right behind you...just incase.

But please also know that life is beautiful.  Laugh a lot.  Fall in love.   Make friends that feel like sisters.  Go on adventures--take lots of road trips (mommy and daddy will get you started on this one--wait till you see the adventures we have in store for you).  Read great books, enjoy great meals, get lost in epic films.  Turn your ear to running rivers, let your hands tingle under the prick of fresh white snow, trail your face in the summer rain, and gaze at the amazing sunsets of Arizona with an intense appreciation of their beauty.

And a few quick pieces of advice (just some things I've learned along the way)-work hard and be passionate about what you do, but play hard too. Enjoy the fruits of your labor.  Do not ever be afraid of failure--it's inevitable.  Please, however, be afraid of failure overcoming you and becoming daunted by it's grasp. Learn from failure, understand it's role in your life, and allow it to become the force that prompts your maturity and growth, not the force that you succumb to.  Accept what you cannot change and move on.  Please don't ever get caught up in the past to the point where it hurts your future.  Let worries turn into motivation and not anxiety.  Stay away from toxic people and do not entertain their desire to bring you down.  Do not become a toxic person. Do the right thing, with the right intentions, no matter how intense the pressure is to do otherwise. Live with integrity. Honor your truth.  Be faithful and committed to your family and your friends.  Do not be deterred by other people's opinions or other people's attempts to bring you down, the more successful you become, the meaner and more envious others will become.  Know that is their problem, not yours. Strive--keep striving--and when you reach the summit of any dream, start eyeballing the next biggest mountain.  Take advantage of learning.  Get educated and value the gifts of growing through learning.  Be generous to others. Stay away from bad influences, who you surround yourself with says a lot about your character.  Say sorry if you are wrong.  Accept apologies when they are given and work hard to fix the broken relationships that deserve second chances.  Take the time to say I love you to those you love, often and with conviction.  Stand up for what you believe in, no matter how unpopular it may be.  Be a problem-solver, always look for alternatives and ways to fix things and exersize innovation.   Listen--twice as much as you talk.  (Daddy would want me to throw in that you should be wise with money--he will teach you all about this someday). Smile (do this one a lot--because somehow I can predict that you have a beautiful one, and the world deserves it often).  And above all, whenever things feel overwhelming and as if there's no piece of advice in the world that could rescue your broken heart--turn to me, turn to your father, turn to Dante and Isabelle.  We are always here for you.

I cannot predict what will happen in the years to come as we grow older together.  I have learned that life throws you unexpected curve balls and the plans you thought were rooted deep into a solid foundation, may find themselves lifting off the ground and taking root elsewhere.  The future feels as uncertain as ever...but the biggest certainly I know in this moment--the unshakeable foundation that I feel total confidence committing to is that I love you and I will always love you.  No matter what.

--I cannot wait to see your precious face. I am a better person for loving you and the world will be a better place for having you.  Until we meet---may you rest soundly under my heart--and when we meet--know you will always have my heart.

With Love--
Mommy

Been A While--

I literally could not even remember the web address to my blogging site, because it's been so long. But, I spent the latter of the last hour searching desperately for access to my blog because the urge to write has been clawing at my soul for the last several days. I would venture to guess this is due mostly to the fact that I have had some much needed down time after a whirlwind of a school year....and I would also venture to guess it's because I have had a whirlwind of a school year and need to get some things off my chest.

I just completed my 4th year as a middle school principal. I am convinced more than ever that this job will never get easier. I think experience helps minimize the pressure of some of the compliance issues, but the emotional toll---there's never relief. The politics of this job are insane and the pressure to rise to the challenges that face not only public education in general, but public education in a rural community are surmounting.  I think I've gotten good (or at least better) at some of the managerial aspects of this job. I wonder if I will ever get good at balancing the emotional toll that a job like this takes on you.

I have been challenged in ways that I could have never imagined in the last 9 months. If I listed them all, nobody would ever make it through this blog. Some of those challenges I have met with dignity and integrity, and some of them I lost my balance and fell into the gutter.  Particularly, several months back, after the political warfare that plagued my district and school came to a head, I took to social media to defend my school. It ended up as front page news, literally.  Now,  I would have never in a million years guessed that my emotional response would have been important enough to put an editors fingers to the keyboard, but nonetheless, it was. I have struggled since seeing my name smeared across the font of the local paper to come to terms with that situation. On one hand there is a small part of me that feels proud to own the stance I took against many of the fallacies that have shaken the foundation of trust in our schools within our community. I did then and still do believe in my district.  That is not a bad thing, nor should it be perceived as one.  You wouldn't want me on the front lines if I didn't believe in the work we do in Bisbee. You wouldn't want me there if there wasn't a sense that I had a deep loyalty to BUSD, our cause, our kids, and education in general. The truth is, I do believe in what I do, I believe I am part of a bigger picture that can make a difference for the kids in the town I grew up in. I could literally work in any school in America, but I choose to stay with my Bisbee family...to serve the kids of the families I have known for generations. I have no hidden agenda or cause. My ambitions do not extend beyond my current mission. Defending the work I do, that the amazing people I work with do, that is not a bad thing.   I am also a fierce supporter of my 1st Amendment rights, and contrary to the paper's attempt to make this a violation of my district policy and dangle my employment up against my decision, I will never back down from the defense of my freedom to air my opinion of the organization that has put faith in my ability to serve as principal.  But...on the other hand, there is something very damaging about seeing your own name swaddled in controversy. By nature, I am not a person drawn to conflict, so this rattled me to the core.  But, it's done. The headline hit the press, hit the newsstand, hit the front doors of my neighbors, friends, family and enemies.  I second-guess my decision daily, particularly my decision to wrestle in the mud with people who are, quite frankly, much better at mud-slinging than I will ever be. This was one of the greatest challenges I have faced in the last 9 months and in my career in general.

Now, with a little distance between that headline and now, I've got to get to a place of acceptance and take from it what I can.  Perhaps the greatest lesson of all for me is that you may not have the political forces on your side and that sometimes the popular rhetoric is not always telling the true story. However, that should not deter you from your efforts or make you stray from your intended path.  I was not always on the popular side this school year and yet my loyalties did not shift from the minority to the popular majority.  This is true.  I'm kinda proud of myself for staying the course and planting my feet firmly on the side of my conscience and my truth.  I'm also proud that I'm choosing to stick with this, despite the ever-growing temptation to jump ship.  I'm still here. I'm still standing. I took a few punches this school year, but I also think I grew a few new muscles.

My Achilles heel has always been how personally I take this job.  I struggle leaving it at the door every day. I'll bring a laptop case full of papers and job-related worries through my front door every night.  My worries and fears, the bullets and blows, the heartaches, triumphs, and failures find their way as the third person in my bed every time my head hits the pillow. I've seen the hours of 2, 3, 4...the various cycles of the moon, and the shadows on the wall thinking about this job.  Critics of this will say that it will be my downfall. That my inability to draw a clear and visible line in the sand between my personal and professional life will eventually drive me right out of this job.  Supporters will appreciate how personally I take it and how much of my own emotional self I pour into the work I do. Perhaps they are both right. Only time will tell. I, for one, hope to believe that there is something to be said about the vague line in the sand.  That...investing this much into a job that literally, and I mean literally, shapes human lives, is not a bad thing.  It takes someone with both the mind and the heart. If you are missing one or the other, I can't imagine how you could possibly impact change.

Last week marked the end of the school year.  A young lady who entered my school mid-year in a desperate attempt to run from a shattered past and very dark existence came into my office and put down a note without saying a word.  Now, mind you, this is a young lady whose face I hardly saw because she kept her eyes hidden under dark long hair. She was a rebel to the core, from her clothing to her attitude, everything about her was screaming for help.  Of all the kids in the school, she's the last I would have ever guessed would have taken the time to write me a note. I can't quote it exactly, but the message was one of thanks. Thanks for giving her a chance, for believing in her, for being so kind to her and for opening up my office to her.

This is often a thankless job--but when the thanks do come, they are profound and deeply meaningful.  It was exactly what I needed to end the year. That little note will never make the headlines or sell the newspapers, but I have vowed to invest more of my over-emotional self into the message of that note than into the headline that smeared my name.  I'm still here. I'm still standing.

And that note...that note is exactly why.

My Children and the Unique Road They Each Travel

Now that school is winding down and I have had the opportunity to spend some much needed time with Dante and Isabelle, I am awe struck by how each of them are molding into unique personalities.   They are both so different in how they approach their relationship with the world, that sometimes I can hardly believe they were raised by the same set of parents, in the same house.

Dante is my little 7 year old going on 80 year old.  He is the most self-sufficient, wise-beyone-his-years little man.  On school days (and weekends for that matter), he gets up early. He takes his own showers, dresses himself. At night, without prompting, Dante does all of his homework (in fact, if he can't get to his homework for some reason, he gets super anxious.)  He's in bed by 8:30 (again, without prompting). His heart is soft. He is kind, caring, and as down to earth as a person could possibly be. He is a gentle soul (in fact, we once put him in Karate and he hated it so much-- an organized sport devoted to beating each other up just wasn't up his alley). When he grows up he is torn between becoming president of the United States, a teacher, or a theme park designer. He loves routine and gets anxious when it's broken.  Dante is also very shy in new situations.  He is infatuated with Abraham Lincoln.  He is curious about the world. He asks questions, takes in information constantly, analyzes everything. He is obsessed with game shows (loves Family Feud-- we have several on DVR and he tunes in nightly). He is an extremely talented reader and he loves school.   He amazes me everyday. Everyday. When I think of who Dante may be in 20 years, I imagine somehow he is changing the world...in a very quiet, behind the scenes way.

Isabelle is more of my free spirit and she's as feisty as they come.  She's not at the least shy . When she grows up,  she wants to be an Elf (I'm not kidding).  For her last birthday, we had a Christmas party (her birthday is in April).  If you make her mad, she will get right in your face and tell you about it.  She laughs with more intensity than anyone I know.  Isabelle loves stuffed puppies and has a collection of over 30-each with a name she so thoughtfully gives each one (there's Purple Eye, Pricilla, Gracie, and so on).  She loves make-up, like most little girls, but will just as quickly sock you in your face with those perfectly manicured nails like any boy on the block.  She openly farts and is not ashamed of it (as a mother, I'm not sure this is my favorite of Isabelle's traits, but it so clearly speaks to who she is that I couldn't leave it out).  She's tough as nails!  She recently had her tonsils and adenoids out, along with tubes put in her ears and she didn't cry once. I thought the experience would traumatize her from doctors (because prior to this, she LOVED going to the doctor). But, it had the opposite effect.  She regularly asks me to go back to the hospital, because despite having probably the most pain she's experienced in her 5 years of life, she loved the stuffed dogs, flowers and balloons that came of it.  However, for as feisty as she is, she will melt your heart in an instant.  She is the most nurturing and sweet little girl when the time calls for it.  I don't worry about my Isabelle's future...she's the perfect combination of grit and girl, and I know she's going to take on the world with perfect ease.

They are so different in personality and often I am convinced that Lil' Dante has a stronger show of my DNA in his personality while Isabelle is all her daddy. However, for as unique as they are in their ways...they come together as a perfect match in heart.  As a mother, it brings me perfect joy to watch them become individuals in this world...my little Abraham Lincoln and my little Elf.  Life just hasn't been the same since they came along. Everyday, I learn something new about the world through each of their unique perspectives. Whether Dante is analyzing a situation and developing a new solution or Isabelle is taking that same situation and finding a pocket of humor in it, their little voices are constantly  bringing to light some new way of seeing life. I suppose that is one of he beautiful things about raising children, you get to step outside of your boxed perspective and open up a whole new world through their eyes.

I don't know that today's blog served any special function or delivered any special message beyond paying homage to my two children.  But, if I hope it inspires anything in the mommies and daddies reading this, it is to step back and appreciate the individuals your children are becoming.  At their base, my children are definitely molded by the mine and Dante's candle wax, but their flame is all their own...

Burn forever bright in this world Little Dante and Isabelle.  I know your flames light up my heart everyday.

Feathers

I have plenty of people who want to see me fail.  I have come to realize, especially after stepping into this role as a principal, that sometimes people will develop some pretty strong feelings and opinions towards your life, your successes, and your choices--for reasons that I bet even they would struggle to explain.  I am not foolish to the notion that plenty of folks secretly applaud my failures with greater fervor than any support they offer towards my successes.   Sadly, I have learned that the better I do for myself, the meaner people become.  It's sad, but it's true. I'm sure many of you can relate.  I am certain I am not alone in my discovery of one of the uglier sides of human-kind.

I will say this, though, in response to those who take any kind of pleasure in my failures. First and foremost, and as Michael Jordan once put it, it is because I have failed over and over, that I succeed. People who know success are no stranger to failures.  What sets them aside is that when life bucks them off in 4 seconds, they get the hell back on that bull and ride for 5 seconds the next time.  Eventually--they take it the full 7. I am not afraid or ashamed of any failure I have experienced in my life. I understand the role of failure in a successful life. First, I get that it's inevitable. I'm going to fall on my face--over and over-- and then I'm going to get back up, wipe the dirt off my chin, and do it again. You know--the best fighters don't walk into any championship fight without scars.  Hell no. They walk in with scars all over their body--and it's because of that elevated gash on their left cheek that they understand when to duck, slide, lean in, and strike.  They didn't get that from a video--they got that from getting hit--over and over again. I am not afraid of my failures--I am afraid of the day I don't get back up.  And that day is not here.

Something else these folks may want to know about me...I am motivated heavily by doubters.  There is something internally thrilling about proving people wrong. I've done it my whole life.  Of course, I'm only human, so when people sling mud at me, my first instinct is to disappear inside myself and take it to heart...but I have learned my next move is almost always to move into action.  Here's what happens....they show up with a knife in hand ready to slash my tires--then end up putting fuel in my car instead.  I hit the gas pedal...and they earn their reflection in my rear-view mirror.

Lastly, I will say this.  Whatever motivates us to tear people down--to interfere with their path in life, and develop opinions that are often and most-likely uniformed...I offer this challenge:  take 90% of the energy you pour into the pain you work so hard to inflict on others and place that energy into your own life.  You cannot build your own wings from the feathers you have plucked from others...they must grow from within you.  

I am not ashamed of the life I lead and I should not be anything but proud of the successes I have found along the way...and so, despite how some have tried to make me feel, I will not apologize for the woman I am today. So long as my values are not compromised and my ambitions never outweigh my sense of what is right and fair in this world, then I will continue to move forward in my life without giving in to those who want me so desperately to give up.  This blog will probably never change the sad reality that mean-spirited people will always hoist themselves up on the nearest roadblock, taunting and criticizing your every move--but it will also not change my steadfast commitment to the life I am determined to lead.  

Those folks can have a few of my feathers--I've got a solid set of wings. 

  

It's Been a While

I haven't blogged in a while. Admittedly, one reason I haven't is because I forgot my login name and password...and actually I couldn't remember what website I was blogging through. That last line makes me sound like I have the capacity of a chipmunk.  But to be fair, I haven't blogged since December and forgot login information because life has been a little...crazy.  I have also come to learn that my writing comes in waves.  If you are a creative soul like me, you will understand this blog (well hopefully, this is my attempt to explain creative release). For those of us who have a talent, or passion, or creative energy, you understand that it manifests and materializes in uniquely personal ways. For me, I have learned that my writing is what heals me and that it demands release at very particular times. Sometimes when life feels like it's crashing down, I can hardly muster the energy to deal with the day to day...much less feed any creative passion that's tucked away inside of me. But I am always aware that there are tiny specks of blue desperate to seep through the black and grey.  For me, it's when dark begins to subside that I suddenly cannot hold back my words. They start pouring over the threshold of my soul with the thunderous power of a waterfall.  It is, for me, when I can materialize my struggles, bring meaning to the challenges that have held me hostage that the words burst out of my heart's cage. It's not really ever in the heat of the moment, but in the quiet aftermath that my soul cries for writing. I suppose, it is for me, how I begin the process of coping with my struggles and moving forward with my life.  So, my creative counterparts, I know you get this...if you are a dancer, singer, painter, whatever it may be...the urge is not always there...but your passion is so connected to the inner you, to your soul, that it becomes an extension of you in very particular moments. Perhaps, like me,  it is your coping mechanism.  Somedays you can't sing...and somedays it's all you can do to make it through.  Some days your feet are too tired and then there are days that if you do not dance, your feel like you will burst out of your own body.  In the last six months I have not had the energy to write...but lately, it's as if I'm craving it.  Or, I suppose, my soul is craving it.

I used to curse at my writing gift. I mean, really it would have been much more useful if I had a talent that could actually score me some dough or popularity points.  I would have appreciated being more athletic...okay, the word more implies I was athletic at all, let me rephrase that...I would have appreciated being athletic. Maybe even amazingly good at math, like Rain Man.  Hell,  I would have traded this talent for a good set of pipes to beat box.

I used to think this was such a useless talent...

Now I know God granted me a connection to words because this is how I navigate my world. This is how I make sense of life's senselessness.  Words heal me. Words make souls tangible, emotions visible...they restore beauty in ugliness, establish hope in darkness, lift broken souls, inspire love, motivate, rejuvenate,  and replenish.

I don't know just how long this wave will last, but I do know tonight I feel myself standing at the mouth of that waterfall and the words are ready to spill over.  I also know somewhere out there tonight a broken girl is dancing alone to steady beat, and a songwriter is immortalizing his broken heart with every strum of his guitar. There is an artist lashing out on the blank canvas with deep red rues.  Dance. Sing. Write. Whatever it may be, embrace it and let it pull you through...I know that's what my words do for me.

20 Angels

I'm not going to try and make this about my blog or about my words tonight, the tragedy in Newtown Connecticut and the loss of those precious, beautiful children is hardly an event that should be used in any way...

I just feel like I need to write about it, that's all.

So many things have struck me in the past few days.  My son is in 1st grade.  The fallen little angels were all his age. This is perhaps the most haunting of all thoughts that have circled my mind the last few days.  The principal died too.  That didn't escape my attention.  It has also made me angry... last week I called to police on a belligerent parent.  This parent was the 3rd this year that has stepped out of line in our school.  You cannot come into a school and behave inappropriately...period.  There are 250 students under my care. It's time for the adults in this community to behave appropriately, because we are no longer a culture that can take much lightly in the halls of our schools.  This very incident highlights my hypersensitivity to some of the behaviors that happen in the front office, in our community, and at our school board meetings.  I'll think of those 20 angel faces every time someone elevates their behavior, we all will.  How can we not?

I've thought a lot about those teachers too.  The stories of heroism.  I work with people like this everyday. I can't say I'm surprised by these stories.  By their very nature, teachers...these bright individuals who could have otherwise have chosen another, far-better compensated path in life, chose to enter into a field that nurtures human growth. Of course some of them threw themselves in front of their children.  It is the heart and nature of a teacher.  I grieve for their loss too.

...and those babies. Those 20 babies whose life had only begun.  20 Christmas trees sit in the homes of 20  broken-hearted families...and under each, there are gifts, wrapped with love....toys, electronics, dolls, books and trucks that will never touch their little hands.  When the shock subdues, they will see that tree. They will see their names adorning the top of a perfectly wrapped gift-- To Emily, Charolette, Jack, Daniel....

and they will weep.  Like I have wept these past few days. As we have all wept.

20 Angels.

Just now I sat and watched the press conference held by Emilie Parker's dad.  Emilie, only 6 years old, told her dad she loved him before he left for work in Portuguese, because he was teaching her that language. He never saw her again.  He says he's not angry. That we all have free agency and that the gunmen chose to do something horrible with his agency. But, he too had free agency and he wanted to do with this tragedy what his little Emilie would have done.  To help and to forgive.

How?   How does a father, who clearly loved his bright and vivacious daughter speak of forgiveness and love when he will never have the opportunity to share those human elements with her again? How does human compassion prevail in the face of the most horrible of tragedies?

....of all the things that have hurt so deeply the past few days, this, and this alone, gave me a sense of peace.

God Bless your perfect little souls, little angels.  Wrap your tiny angel wings around those who grieve for you and pull them through the darkness.