The Home That Travels With You

My awesome cousin Sam is venturing out on his own - to a different state - to be a preacher. 

I am - and have been for a long time - in awe of him. He's one of those people that is friends with everyone, an inspiration to everyone. A networker from birth who uses his relationships to share all good things. A hero to the littles, a joy to the elderly, and a friend to everyone in between. 

Lots of families live far apart  - so I am fully aware that I am entirely spoiled by my close physical proximity to my extended family.

Quite selfishly, I don't like that he'll be farther away. But, I am so proud of who he is, and I'm excited for the experiences he will have and the things he will do. 

So here's my note to him - to remind him of a few of the best parts of our family - the parts we are blessed to share - the parts that he can carry with him no matter where he travels to. 

♥️

→  The Home That Travels With You ←

You’re leaving home.

For new adventures. For important callings. 

For noble intentions and doings.

And some days it will feel fantastic.

Some days you will so obviously be in the right place.

New sights. New people. New friends. 

Important works. Breakthrough learnings.

May those days be plentiful and cherished.

But some days … Some days you will just miss home.

And, so, let me remind you of something

something so beautiful, so wonderful, so important

That it will get you through even the toughest days.

The kind of home our family has built is not a home you can move away from.

Oh sure, you’ll have a new bedroom and a new dining room table.

A new roommate will pester you and be pestered by you.

Someone will charge you rent.

Different people will see you on the daily.

But our home goes with you. You can’t escape it.

While you are gone, in your new place …. You’ll find home there with you.

It’s enriched deep within your heart, and in your subconscious it remains.

You will drive down a quiet gravel road and think of the farm, 

It’s likely you’ll chase a stray cow back in the field or help a farmer out…

You will wonder what Uncle Jamie would say, and you will be home.

You will open your Bible to study and hear the wisdom of Grandpa Jess -

You will bow your head,  and you will be home.

As you wander the halls of your house you’ll straighten a mess,

And think of your parents and Rebecca, and be flashed back to home.

Someone will cook you a delicious meal and invite you to sit around their table,

And you will think of Grandma, and Aunt Nina, and your Momma, 

You will smile - tell a story - and be home.

Eventually you’re bound to sit on someone’s front porch and visit, 

And you won’t be able to help picturing Uncle Jim sitting in a black chair - 

You’ll chuckle a little, and you will be home.

An excited child will squeal your name and tackle-hug you.

And as you hug them back and wind them up just a tad - oh, you will find home there.

If you listen close, someone will sigh an Uncle Steve sigh. 

Robbie’s sarcasm will find you in the form of someone else.

Someone will play guitar while you sing along at a get together like Isaac.

And in those moments, there are pieces of home.

You will open your own home for a Bible study and think of Heather and Josh.

You will mentor someone in need, and wonder what Aunt Alisha would say.

You will step up to the plate. Every time.

And in each situation you will draw on your home.

Your home is here. It will be waiting eagerly for your physical presence.

But we won’t wait idly by.

It will be with you - surrounding you - both encouraging you and grounding you.

Your home - deep in your heart - remains no matter where your body goes..

Draw on it. Expand on it.

Call to talk about it …. 

Or trust me - “it” will call you to talk about it.

And when you visit and bring stories to share and new learnings to impart.

You  might say “It’s good to be home”, 

but you will also smile, knowing a part of you never left.

The Tina Kean

 It's a silly way to honor her, and I still bawled while proof reading.

My mentor, my friend. So much of the teacher I am is because of the teacher and friend you have been to me! I have a hard time imagining next year, and the rest of my career, without your room, your wisdom, listening ear, and endless idea bank, to go running to. BUT I do know the team you have helped guide and build is strong and will think of you often as we keep doing what we do! ...and probably texting you quite a bit, also. Enjoy retirement - it is well deserved, and I look forward to hearing about all of your adventures!

The Tina Kean

(Click the picture to read the poem)

And, because writing silly things is my go to, here's a fun (still emotional tome) throwback .... 

"The Kim Shockley"

And a just for fun one - it wasn't sad because she still has to work with me (ha) - "The Melissa Keeney"

Mistakes Happen

Today I watched a kiddo mess up. He did the wrong thing. I had to call him on it. Thankfully, I was able to point it out to him privately and kindly - but he still didn't like the redirection .... And he shut down. I'm talking hard core, pout central - head down, slumped body, stomped away and threw himself into a chair. 

At first I let it go. We have 1.5 days left of school, and people, I am aaaallll about choosing my battles. 

But then he didn't want to play the game we were starting. And when his friends tried to comfort him, he snapped at them. And when my cadet offered to help him, he grouched around. So, after unsuccessfully trying to talk to him, I slid him this image pulled up on my phone: 

He didn't say a word. He slid my phone back to the edge of the table to me, and he stayed there. And I thought maybe it hadn't worked .... But then, moments later, he got up, and joined our game. And I just smiled and welcomed him subtly as we moved on. 

I don't know that he'll remember that moment "forever" ... But I will. 

All he needed was a gentle reminder of something I need reminded of aaaallll the time: it's okay to mess up. 

Try as we might, we aren't petfect. You aren't, my students aren't, and I am certainly not. And sometimes it just plan stinks to not be perfect. Being wrong doesn't feel good and knowing you've done wrong isn't a good feeling either.

But messing up HAPPENS. It has. It will. Probably more than we like to think about  and certainly more than we care to admit. 

And .... It's okay.

God knew we'd mess up. In fact, he had a whole plan to save us from our mess ups before we even had a chance to begin. HE is the only perfect one. You and I? We just have to keep trying our best. 

So, you get up. You apologize. You clean up and fix up whatever mess needs handled as best you can .... And then you just keep going. Don't stagnate. Don't sulk. Get up and try again. Try a different way. Try with a bit of help. Try a different thing. But don't stop.

Pouting has never made anything better.

But moving forward does.

Maybe that means going back to church after years way. Maybe it means swallowing your pride and apologizing to a friend. Maybe it means going back and doing a better job at something you did half a job at the first time. 

Take the time. Put in the work. Keep going. Because everyone makes mistakes - but it's how you respond to and move forward from them that matters. 

Ferocious Independence

Tonight we had our first 4 wheeler "accident". What was she doing when this occured, you ask? Oh, just trying to park it. 

Yep. Those particular driving talents come directly from my genes, sorry kid. 

Actually, she was parking it in the shed (which involves going up a ramp) all by herself for the first time. Previously she has always parked the 4 wheeler by the shed and waited for her dad or I to drive it in. But tonight I said "It's time to put up 4 wheelers so we can get ready for church!" And she went to put hers away. All the way away. 

Sometimes she's ferociously independent like that - even when it causes trouble. Those genes she gets from both sides. 

And after much consideration and some deep breaths to slow my heart rate ... I wouldn't change that part.

Oh, I'd change the crash and the fat lip and the bloody chin in a heart beat. I'd change the crash sound I heard and *knew* from across the yard where I was parking the other 4wheeler. But the independence that got her there? That I'm not interested in changing. Instead, I'm trying to appreciate and embrace it more. 

It's an independence that sometimes frustrates me. That, tonight in particular, made me say "but why didn't you just wait a minute?"  But it's also the independence that is taking her places. Big places. 

It's the independence that saved me earlier this evening when she hollered "Mom, the goats are out!" as we got pulled in .... Because by the time I got backpacks and my purse inside, and my mudboots on, she already had the goats back in the pen and was working on fixing the fence.

It's the independence that let's her be comfortable "running" the school - why yes, she can run that errand for me, talk to this person, find that out for you....  And the independence that makes school a place she is comfortable. That makes her say "crazy" things like "mom, I'm home sick for the second day, I should probably do some school work so I'm not behind" and also "I read that book by myself earlier, Im ready to test on it."

It's the independence that got her up on a horse and riding without help last Saturday. The independence that often let's her say "I can do it just fine". 

And it's the independence that will keep her firey, sweet spirit alive through whatever life throws her way. It will let her stand up to bullies and look out for friends. It will let her find information she needs, choose her own path, and stand firm for her beliefs despite adversity. 

Unfortunately, I know it will also bring her more crashes. Some emotional, and probably so more physical, too. And at those parts I'll try to prevent if feasible, cushion when possible, and of course, comfort where I need to. 

Hopefully I'll be able to help her see the lessons, too. I mean, I bet she parks her 4wheeler more carefully next time...and she might even wait for help. And that won't be the last lesson she learns.

But hopefully I can do that it in a way that refines the independence, not squelches it. Help her find the patience and wisdom I'm usually still seeking ...  But always remind her to get back up and try again because she can, infact, do it ... Just, maybe after her chin heals. 😉

To The Me I Was Last Week

Motherhood.

Some days you're planning epic birthday parties, chauffeuring everyone to their favorite places, and winning all the mother of the year awards.

But other days? Other days you are on day 10 of cleaning up after sick children, tired because those 10 nights haven't been any easier than the days, and iced in at home wearing an old, unflattering sweatshirt.

Those days are hard.

The days when everyone needs everything and no one is happy about any of it. One child wants carried to the bathroom, one needs a change of clothes, one needs you to freshen the gatorade they are sipping, and one is asking for the 4th food of the day that you know they will only take one bite of. Everyone wants to play but no one feels good enough to enjoy it and so they just grump and fight. 

You play mediator, you play house keeper, you play short-order cook - complete with the unhappy customers, meltdowns, and tantrums.

Those days are hard.

The days where you dress everyone in their snow clothes which takes approximately 82 hours so that you can hurry outside and play for all of 2 minutes before someone needs to bring the littlest back in, and so you miss out on the actual good sledding fun. So, you start dinner, excited to start new recipe you are sure will redeem the day ... but it flops completely so you end up washing dishes and wiping down counters while leftovers warm in the microwave instead?

Oh, those days are hard.

But there is beauty in those long, monotonous, not very much fun, hard days. 

There are snuggles and I love you's. There is the security you are providing and the relationships you are strengthening. There is satisfaction in caring for the ones you love and adore. 

And though they don't always know how to express it themselves, sometimes they climb into your lap even though they are getting a bit too big to be comfortable there. They let you read them a story, and ask you to lay by them at night.

There is something incredibly wonderful about being the one that is there for it all - even on the hard days. 

But if you don't feel it now? If you can't exactly hold on to that feel good thought or it isn't quite strong enough to make you smile through the thick of it? That's okay too. Some moments just have to be gotten through. Some days are just hard.

Just know that some day, maybe even next week when it's an easier day, you'll look back and remember how hard it was - but then you'll be able to see the beautiful silver lining - and you'll be thankful you were the one who got to be the one, even on those long, hard days.

In The "Whose On First" Time of Year

Ah, this time of year. It's an interesting one for educators. 

It's a time when there is excitement over every potential snow day and dread over broken routines and messed up plans. It's the time of dreaded indoor recess that everyone is tired of, and dreaded outdoor recess that no one is dressed quite warm enough for.

It's a time when there is a determination to "buckle down" and "power through" those remaining standards, and a severe decrease in motivation for both teachers and students brought on by weather and, well, time of year.

It's a time when there is comfort in knowing your students well, and the beginnings of wonderings about what next year's group will bring.

It's a time for "What else do I need to do this year?" and "What do I need to remember to requisition for next year?"

It's a time when people begin to make 'next year' decisions and changes. A time of year of hushed assumptions and whispers of change. It's a time of year that brings hallway gossip and announcements of movement and plenty of questions of what next year will be.

It's a time of year that often begets discontentment. 

It's a time of year that always begets change.

Oh, I'm not making any changes. Nope, I'll still be here, in my 4th grade "hole" for as long as they will let me, just doin' my thing. But just because I'm not making changes doesn't mean change won't find me. People will retire. People will move districts. Students will go to 5th grade and new students will come to 4th. Procedures will be tweaked. Expectations will differ. 

All next year. I don't necessarily get to know about any of those things in a definite way just yet ... and that's okay. Except, I am a planner. So those things that will happen next year? Oh, they are already on my heart and mind. 

And yet, I can't do anything about them. Decisions aren't final. Whats "anticipated' is not confirmed. What is confirmed is not clearly figured out. The mystery of change stresses me. It takes away my ability to plan.

Thus, we enter another time of year I must pray through.

I pray for the foresight to speak up about the things I need to and the wisdom to stay quiet about the things I should. I pray for next year's teaching teams and classes and my this years kids presents and futures. I pray that I prepare the ones I'm with and am prepared for the ones I will get to meet. And patience - oh, I'm always praying for patience. 

Most of all, I pray for the right balance of planning and proactivity (which I *think* is a strength) and contentment in the waiting (because goodness knows I am not always so good at the waiting). 

Because no-matter what else, it's a "give it to God and quit stressing about it" time of year - and that I am always working on.

Start With Love

Sometimes toddlers become overwhelmed with life and choices and circumstances and throw tantrums.

Sometimes kids get wild and roudy and end up hurting themselves. 

Sometimes teenagers make bad and wrong decisions that end with their feelings getting hurt and opportunities getting missed. 

Sometimes adults - family members, spouces, friends, employees, coworkers - mess up big, and it affects their world. 

And sometimes, from where you stand, you can see the mess up. You can pinpoint the moment, the choice, the action that led to the heartache. You can talk through all of the "If only..."s And "you should have..."s. And sometimes, maybe even most of the time, you're exactly right. 

But yelling never fixes a toddlers tantrum, harsh words don't make a teens listen better, "I told you so" makes very few friends, and more and more I'm reminded of this:

Don't. Do. It. 

They won't hear it anyway. 

Oh sure, they might *need* to hear it. There really are things people need to be told ... And you might be the one that needs to do the telling. 

But tread carefully. 

If you lecture first, the ears close. The frustration accumulates. The anger and tears boil over. The hug never comes because doors are slammed and bridges burned. 

But if you start with the hug? If you start by reaffirming that you are here for them - that no matter what or where the melistake lies, the fact that they are hurting is important to you - that you've got their back. Well then, the thing that you might have to say or the things you may need to point out, can be heard a little easier and digested a bit smoother. 

If you start with the hug, there will be time for words later. But if you jump in with harsh words ... You might not make it to the hug. 

We're not here to point out everything each other has done wrong. We're here to help each other find our way the best way we can. And that way starts with love, and a lot of times, a hug.