#ThrowBackThursday

There is this thing on Instagram that is trending lately – “Throw Back Thursday” – with all sorts of different hash tags…#tbt #throwbackthursday #throwbackthurs….and the list goes on and on.  I dabble in this weekly tradition, but more like on a monthly basis.  It seems to always be quite the affair when I #tbt.  I think the problem is I take it too seriously.  I can’t just throwback to a picture of my wedding or my childhood without being immersed by the memories of the day, the smells of the day, and the emotions of my heart in that moment of my existence.

See? I told you I take it too seriously.

Today, I sought out this picture with a specific purpose for my trip to memory lane.  I love my baby brother.  He is so busy and I really am so proud of the man he is, the career he is building himself, the character he develops daily and the incredible living of life he is doing. It’s just that…this growing up thing…it leaves less and less time for spontaneous softball games.  It robs us from the privilege of sharing a roof, or even sharing the same town.  Adulthood stole the spontaneity of backyard BBQ and late-night arm wrestling.  The double digits took away the lava (carpet) and rocks (pillows) of our living room.  Adolescence took away the adoration of one another and was replaced briefly with football, girls, trucks, video games, motorcycles...and college developed us into such independent beings.

Growing up was necessary. I never wish to be a child again (or that awkward teenager, that sucks). Hardships and blessings strengthened the bond my baby brother and I share, and maturing brought those lessons to us.  Adulthood gifted us with the experience under our belts to cultivate fierce loyalty and unconditional love.

My heart never hurts for these things.  It is the circle of life, it is what we do, we grow into adults with the hope that someday we will make valuable contributions to our families, to our society, to this world.  To say I long for those years when we were in one another’s back pockets would be a disservice to where we have gone in our lives: worlds apart, both exponentially happy with the lives we have created, strong, smart, independent, well-educated, kind, learned, compassionate individuals.  I won’t discredit these lives we both worked so hard for.

What I will do instead is say that on this “Throw Back Thursday,” my heart finds peace in the memories of a simpler time.  A time before being grown-up ruled our decision making, a time before we knew how big the world was, a time of immense laughter, flower planting, name carving, Mario Kart racing, gun shooting, hiking, mountain driving, movie watching, careless road tripping, pool-playing, softball throwing. A time of reckless abandon, impulsive decision-making and memory-creating youth. That time…that time overflows my buckets and the juices of life runneth over.

Be The Change

Is anyone as devastated as I am over the Oscar Pestorius story?  I cried every time that man raced this summer and he seemed like such an incredible human being.  The media is even having trouble finding people who will say a bad thing about him – even the victim’s agent said he was a charming, great guy.  What a hot mess.  He was such an inspiration for so many people.  I’m holding onto that whole “innocent until proven guilty” thing, but it isn’t looking good.  What is this world coming to?

On that note – I am going to get back to the quote I have up there.  Yesterday I was heartbroken over the news (AGAIN).  Basically, all the news ever does is make me sad. I should quit watching it or reading it.  Death, gambling, natural disasters, cop-killing ex-cops…it’s all just petrifyingly horrible.  I was scheduled for an afternoon practicum in a 7^th/8^th grade classroom.  It might seem like something that should be easy as pie for me, but when all your experience and training is at an upper/honors secondary level, middle school is terrifying!!  Then add the sad news I read on my lunch hour and I went to my practicum feeling broken and sad.

I was supposed to sit quietly at the back of the classroom and observe, make notes about how to handle the classroom, absorb teaching methods I would want to use in my own classroom someday, that sort of thing.  So there I sat, when my host teacher asked me if I could do them a favor and transcribe for a student with a broken arm. I of course obliged immediately and as the teacher led me to the computer lab, I received an explanation on the student and notification that the student was moderately special needs.

My palms got sweaty and I started to panic on the inside.  My specialty is poetry and modern YAL.  What could I possible offer a special education child in middle school? I felt all wrong for the job and ill equipped to be trusted with it.  I tuned back in post-panic to hear my host teacher finishing their instructions with, “….and since you’re specialty is English, if you manage to get to two paragraphs with the student, please help the student understand sentence structure, grammar and punctuation through questions instead of straight instruction.”  Good gracious, the student and I were doomed.

I sat down in the chair at the computer and typed the exact words the student spoke to me.  The student was fantastic and funny and sweet.  It’s true; there was a prevalent learning disability.  As I typed the words exactly as the student spoke them to me, I fought the urge to edit, revise and change what the student said to fit my idea of “perfect English.”  When we reached two paragraphs, I started to ask the student questions about the information that had been portrayed to me and if the proper language was used to get the point across in a clear and concise way.  The student started to struggle and get frustrated.  I started to falter (after all, there was a voice in my head telling me the whole time this was not where my training lies).

In a miraculous moment of clarity, the idea floated into my head to try asking the student to simply read back the script to me.  As the student and I took it one sentence at a time, I watched a miracle unfold before my very eyes.  I watched this student stumble and hesitate over the words that were incorrect.  I watched the student pause when they saw a word that didn’t fit and in the student’s eyes, I saw that they KNEW the mistakes that had been made.  Through painstakingly slow progress and thought processes, the student was able to identify and correctly revise the paragraphs we had written.

When the student felt it was as polished as it was going to get, they requested I print it out so that they could show it to their group members for changes and revision.  As the student dashed out of the room I thought to myself that these paragraphs were nowhere near perfect in my eyes, but for this special spirit, they were impeccably written.  In a matter of minutes, this very special student ran back into the computer lab with their broken arm and jumped for joy, exclaiming to me, “They said it was perfect and I don’t need to change anything!”  In that moment, my heart melted.  The fullness in my heart that I felt at the student’s joy will forever be a defining moment in my life.

The truth is, I am still not trained or equipped to deal with special education children. I never will be, it’s not where my education lies.  However, this experience opened my eyes to supporting a full inclusion classroom…or not supporting it depending on the circumstance – at least when the day comes, my decision can be based on actual experience and not something I read from a text book.

The truth is, my desire to teach at a higher education level instead of younger children still outweighs any other teaching desire in my heart, but at least now I know that if I ever teach middle school, I will be able to relate to the students and pull this moment from my rolodex of life experiences to try to be more compassionate and understating.

The truth is, even if just for an hour in my day, I WAS the change I want to see in this world.

There is Always Hope

We live in hard world full of people who control so much of our lives and understand so little of what we truly do and go through on a daily basis.  I strive to have a good heart and be a good person with a smart enough balance that I don’t end up hurt or too trusting.  I lose faith in humanity almost daily.  The news depresses me, my job (while I am so, so, so grateful to have one) presents challenges daily and my life, while generally all around good, goes through hard days. Everyone experiences this. It is living, it is existing, it is being right here, right now.

What makes it all worth it? Everyone has their own definition. Your faith. Your family. Your happiness.  For me, what makes it all worth it, is hope.  Hope for a better future, hope that I can become a better person and hope that not all people are really all that bad.

They aren’t.

I witnessed a truly random act of kindness the other day.  The person who gave this act of kindness chose to remain anonymous and did it with no desire for recognition or reward.  While eating out at a restaurant the other night, I watched a person on their way out the door walk by a table full of young men in their fatigues, clearly members of our military.  In a spontaneous moment, the person leaving the restaurant tracked down the waitress and told her that they would like to pay the bill for these young men.

The waitress hesitated and said, “Are you sure? It’s kind of a lot! Do you know them?!”

The good citizen replied, “Yes I am sure, and no, I do not know them, but I know what they do.”

When the waitress discreetly appeared with the bill for the person to sign, she shook the person’s hand and said, “That is just the sweetest thing I have ever seen anyone do, I just want to shake your hand and thank you so much.”

The person paying the bill for the soldiers quietly replied, “They sacrifice for my freedom, they are the reason I have a job and can even have the privilege of buying them dinner.  Please do not make a big deal out of this. Please do not tell them WHO paid for their dinner. Please just tell them I said, ‘Thank You.’”

The bill payer then walked quietly out of the restaurant to their vehicle and drove away.  You will never know that person’s name.  The soldiers will never know who bought them dinner.  The waitress may well never lay eyes on the person’s hand that they shook in awe over such a nice thing to do.

But me? I know who that person was and I could pick them out on the street if our paths were to cross. I never would though, I will respect that person’s privacy and hold in my heart the joy I saw at the young men craning their necks looking out the window trying to identify the stranger who showered them with gratitude and kindness. I will also remember how much joy I saw in that completely random moment of love.

And I will keep my faith in humanity.

And I will remember that it is all worth it.

That there is always hope.

The Day I Turned 28

About 3 years ago, before Doug and I were ever even engaged, I threw him a birthday party.  It was a party just for him with silly kid invitations, food, gifts and party hats. It was a special day that I spent a lot of time planning because I wanted it to be HIS day, a day he could have for his birthday that didn’t involve traveling or a joint family party.  Shortly after that, Doug asked me what my idea of a perfect date was.  Then, he learned something silly about me.  He learned that I LOVE campers, 5^th wheels and RV’s.  I love to walk through them and check them out as they have gone from small trailers to houses on wheels.   My favorite day at the mall is when the traveling camper show comes to town and in the parking lot are tons of open campers to walk through.  It’s fantastic.  However, it isn’t Doug’s idea of a good time and I sort of thought he just brushed it off and laughed at my crazy quirks.  He took me to a movie the next night to thank me for the birthday party and a month later we were wrapped up in wedding planning.  I had totally forgotten about the silly birthday party and the conversation making fun of my love for campers….that is, until I turned 28 on the 4^th of February, 2013. 

I almost always share my birthday with the Super Bowl.  It’s inevitable.  If I don’t share the actual day of football, I am usually at least the day before or the day after.  This makes party planning troublesome, but I have never minded because I actually quite love football.  This year it would have been the best gift ever if Peyton was there, but since he wasn’t,we just enjoyed the commercials, good food and friends.  Doug made me this beautiful cake one day early and our Super Bowl company sang to me.  It was sweet and the cake was delicious.

 

Sunday night/Monday morning, The Hubs woke me up to tell me Happy Birthday. I sleepily opened my present and was so excited by my new Disney movie that I almost watched it right then and there!! However, in classic Ayzlynn form, my desire for sleep won that battle and I just went back to bed.

I took Monday off, mostly because months ago The Hubs asked me to.  He told me he had a day of surprises for me.  He silenced my phone and shut the blinds in our bedroom and let me sleep in.  I am normally up around 6 on Mondays so sleeping until 9 was pretty freaking delightful.  I woke up to a wonderful card and breakfast in bed.

 I showered and got dressed for the day and The Hubs told me to wear a top that could go either way and pack slacks.  We got in the car and headed south.  At Loveland, he took the exit and pulled into Dick’s.  Here, he bought me a Peyton jersey which he had already picked out, he just wanted me to try it on before he purchased it to be sure it fit.  Basically, my entire day was complete in this moment.  I was ready to go home, what more could he give me?! My life was complete!!! 

We had a light lunch at Rock Bottom, where he told the waitress it was my birthday and she gave me free donut holes with caramel sauce.  It was delicious. 

We hopped back in the car and headed south. I was certain we must be going to the city, because what else could we possibly be doing on this already complete day? I was wrong. Doug took the exit onto some service road and I started to lose faith in the day.  Service roads freak me out.  People get lost and murdered on service roads.  I kept asking him if he knew where he was going, he just laughed and told me to be patient. 

Then, it was like the clouds parted and the sun was shining down on the most amazing sight I ever seen. RV AMERICA!!! You guys! It’s the biggest indoor showroom of RV’s, campers, etc in America!!! (or so they boast anyway)  Doug told me I could look for as long as I wanted, we had until 5:30 when they closed.  Holy crap this was fantastic.  I started at the very back and I walked through each and every camper in that store.  I picked out at least 4 that I would buy if I won the lottery.  Doug was so patient and just followed me around and I opened every fridge and checked out every cupboard.  It was also a total bonus that the salespeople there are not pushy at all.  They didn’t even bother us, just occasionally when we walked past they asked if we were doing alright.  I wasted 3 hours in that store.  I highly recommend everyone go there. 

After I had thoroughly examined all the available options in the warehouse, we hopped onto the interstate and headed north again. Then, he took me to the movies – which if you know me, you know the movies is one of my all-time favorite pastimes.

 After the movie, The Hubs told me to change and we headed north again. I was beginning to think we were going all the way home when he finally stopped off in Fort Collins, where he took me to my absolute favorite restaurant: The Melting Pot!  He had reservations and these were waiting for me at our table. 

It was a really lovely dinner and I was so happy to be ending this incredible day with this incredible man eating delicious food. 

Here is the only picture I got of us TOGETHER that day!!! 

 When we left Fort Collins, we were driving through downtown and saw these lights.  I know they are left over from Christmas, but after the day I had, it felt like they were on just to wish me a Happy Birthday.  I usually don’t like surprises because I’m too type A and I can’t be in control of surprises.  However, this day, this surprisingly wonderful day, was worth all the anticipation in the world.  Happy Birthday to me, and remember to never, ever underestimate my husband.  He listens, he remembers, he holds onto an idea for years, and when the time is right, he pounces.

I wrote and rewrote this blog probably a half a dozen times.  I felt the itch to write about my upcoming doom birthday, but the words escaped me – the adjectives and verbs to paint a picture of how I felt fluttered at the edge of my mind refusing to take shape into anything remotely comprehensible.  Scared? Not the right word. Annoyed? Eh…not in the traditional sense.  Old? Wait, no, don’t got there yet. Failure? Achievement? Slow bloomer? Confused?

No matter how hard I struggled, the words continued to run away to the far reaches of the wall in my brain that signifies full on writer’s block.  The black, impenetrable wall loomed in my mind and my hope for therapeutic writing dwindled.  The blinking cursor on the screen mocked me.  I closed Word and chose “Don’t Save” five times.

You see, I still feel like adulthood eludes me sometimes. Sure, I own my home, pay my own bills, drive my own car, go to a job with retirement and health insurance…but there are certain elements of growing into an adult that I thought would be in my repertoire of achievements by now. Those elements are still drifting in space somewhere, sometimes so close I think touching them is possible, but when I stretch out my hand to grab ahold of them, they flitter into dust and scatter in the breeze.

Make no mistake; happiness abounds in my soul. The looming birthday just caused some temporary panic and forgetfulness.  The impending TWO and EIGHT in my mind facilitated the loss of letters and thoughts because I started to focus on what was missing, not what is there.  Then, I heard a song on the radio and just like the sun burns fog off in the early morning, the lyrics burned the wall in my mind down and I knew what I wanted to say, what I needed to say.

I am not where I thought I would be in life by now, I am somewhere better.  I didn’t get married young enough to have my 2.5 children by now, but I did choose to wait for a marriage that will last, that will stand the test of time and that will carry me into eternity.  I didn’t chase my passions when I was 18 like I should have, but now I run after them with fervor. Now, I possess an even greater appreciation for education and the impact on human lives achieved through knowledge.  Knowledge IS empowerment.  What did I gain from a nontraditional approach to life? Immense knowledge, and therefore, hopefully the power to provide guidance and education that will last the ages and help turn me, my family, my husband and my children into better people.

Perspective seems to turn things into a brighter light. The perspective provided from a song, for instance.

“When I get where I’m going, there’ll be only happy tears. I will shed the sins and struggles I have carried all these years.”

I’m not there yet and there are days that the journey hurts and leaves me feeling wanting.  I know with certainty though, that I am well on my way to “there.”  I am not exactly thrilled about turning another year older this year. What excites me though, is knowing that what is waiting for me in the year to come exceeds all expectations.  The tricky thing is, I have to first accept the passing of time and the turn of another year for me to get to what lies ahead. AND let me tell you, what lies ahead is so very worth the passing of time.

Lunch With my Grandparents

I wish I had words that would live up to how incredible my Grandparents are.  I don’t, and I often feel like I am doing them a disservice when I talk about them.  No one could really understand the blessing they are in my life, unless they had also been a blessing in your life. I am also completely aware that there are probably a lot of grandchildren out there who feel this way about their own special grandparents. Seriously, though, mine are the greatest.

This weekend we braved winter storms and bad weather to make a trip to see them.  I learn new things about them every time I am there.  I know it sounds selfish, but I love the time I have when I go up for the day and no one else is around but us. I don’t have to share them and I am able to hear every word they say in their soft-spoken voices, and I sit in the chair and listen intently and soak in the essence of them because I know they won’t be around forever.

My Grandfather has spoken more to me about his service in WWII in the past few years than he has in my whole entire life.  The wisdom that he possesses is endless and I always come away having learned something new, something incredible and something that increases my awe at his character.  I am so proud to be the granddaughter of a WWII veteran. I will never tire of hearing him talk about his time as a Marine. I will never be able to fully express my gratitude for his sacrifice. It is a debt that can never be repaid.

As disease and dementia have slowly taken over my Grandmother’s body over these last years, my heart has ached and my eyes have cried tears with her every step of the way.  She has good days, she has bad days. I was so lucky because Saturday was a great day.  She was the Billie everyone knows and loves all the way to her core.  She made jokes, she told incredible stories of days of old, she recalled ancient memories in her mind like it had never lost its sharpness and she filled my heart with new memories to carry with me as I left.

We talked about the rising cost of living, the fire that took their home, what it was like to come home from the war and even child rearing.  Grandpa told me he remembered when “50 dollars bought you a car you could rely on.”  I learned that Grandpa’s first car was a Model A Coup. It looked something like this:

He told of going to the mountains and driving around (our version of “mudding”) and getting it stuck.  He left for the war and when he came home, there was not much left of his beloved vehicle he left behind.  He told me that was a real tragedy because, “I didn’t even have a car to go sparking!”  To this statement, Grandma smiled slowly and her eyes held years of memories and love for her husband. I’m guessing she got over the no car thing.

As our visit was coming to a close, Grandma asked me when we were going to have a baby.  She thought she was up to 98 great grandchildren (which it is really only 82 but I didn’t correct her) so I told her I supposed that I would just hold out and wait to have great grandchild number 100.  My husband piped in and said, “OR we could have twins and that would be number 99 AND 100.”  I chuckled and said that Grandma would never wish such a thing on me. Once again, that smile and sparkle in her eye came forward and she said, “Oh yes, I would.”

After we had been there a few hours, Grandma’s coherence started to fade.  She spoke of a few things that were silly and nonsense.  Grandpa put his hand on her leg and said, “It’s time for your nap, dear.”  So, my always loving husband helped to get her into bed.  While he was doing so, Grandpa looked over and me and told me when she gets tired and starts to talk like that, he just doesn’t know what else to do.  Then, in a moment that stopped my heart and focused my world, he said, “But, I endure it here, because I just CAN’T leave my bride.”

Love like that, it’s real and it’s strong and it’s true.  It is something to seek after and attain in this life.  I cried big heaping sobs behind my sunglasses as we drove away. I cried for 20 miles.  When Doug reached over and put his hand on my leg, in a quiet gesture of support and understanding, I cried even harder because I am blessed with a man who I know will also never, ever leave his bride.  So I shed tears, for the memories I have, for the new ones we made, for the people they used to be, for the people they are now, for a love that I know will last an eternity, for the example they are in my life and for my own selfish fear of losing them in this world.

See? I told you they were amazing.

And then...then, we did it again

The last 4 ½ months of our lives went by like a total blur.  I felt like I was drowning at least 80% of the time.  At any given moment, if you walked into our home, you were bound to hear word vomit full of critical and literary terms, projected numbers of marketing research, close reading interpretations of literature many of you have never even heard of, curses of outrage at group projects, sighs of relief at passed tests and the occasional sob over the stress of it all, the difficulty of it all, the complexity of making life work with full time jobs and school and church and each other. All for the pursuit of a higher, higher education.

I know we don’t have the hardest lives out there, I know there are people who try harder, stress more, and even raise children amidst this chaos.  I salute them.  I barely survived last semester.  I did it; I bit the bullet and sacrificed sleep and TV programs and leisure reading.  I haven’t picked up a craft in months.  New recipes are a thing of the past and I haven’t baked in so long I fear I am losing my touch. BUT, I did it. AND I did it with a 4.0 – a feat I try not to brag about but am truly proud of.

Then winter break came, and while we still maintained the rest of our obligations, we breathed a little easier without school to worry about.  Getting older is harder on some days than others.  Shortly after we took our last finals we lost a professor who was near and dear to our hearts.  It made my heart ache for all the students who will never get the blessing of being his pupils, but it also made my heart soar with joy that we were both lucky enough to have had him touch and change our lives in a permanent way.  It made me sure that my pursuit of this higher education that will let me teach other young minds is the exact right thing to do.  Someday, I hope to change just one life the way he changed thousands of lives.  The older you get in life, the more people you lose, and it never gets any easier.

On a happier note, we were blessed with a fabulous vacation that regenerated our hearts, souls, mind and bodies and left me feeling more energetic and brave than ever.  So, as if last semester wasn’t tough enough, we registered for even more classes with higher difficulty levels, and…well, we will do it again.