Beyond Petty Politics

I look out at the faces of my beloved students and have so. much. hope. They are only 13 and 14 years old, yet (ironically) they have more class and decency than some adults seen on T.V. This generation of youngsters has every reason to mimic the tone, message, and showmanship of the leaders in our country. But they don’t. They are so beyond these petty politics. My students are curious, interested, engaged. They disagree with one-another in a way that I wish would go viral. Their civility is admirable. They belong to a community with diverse ideas, yet — somehow — they still like each other. This community? 4th hour American History in Anytown, USA.

This community nestles itself in my classroom each Monday through Friday around 11 am. They hold a special place in my heart because they are teaching me how to navigate the tricky waters of today. They force me to think outside the box. They make me question my tactics as a social studies teacher. How do I teach, encourage, and model civility? What can I do to promote listening, contemplation, and humility?

Earlier in the year, I did something new-to-me. I asked students to anonymously write down a thing or two they cared about. I threw out some ideas: gun rights, free college, LGBTQ issues, racism, a later start to the school day, and so on. They bustled with excitement and eagerly wrote down their thoughts. I collected the responses and made an on-the-fly move. I decided to share a few of their comments aloud and opted to start with this phrase, “here are some of the things people in this class care about...” Before I started reading, however, I asked them to actively listen, but not by responding with any noise, facial expression, or bodily movement. I read through some of their ideas. I stopped after a few hot-button issues and let them linger in the tension. They were locked in, and I could sense curiosity bubbling up. I affirmed their self-control (knowing that some kids were stewing on the inside) and offered to open up the conversation. They were restrained, thoughtful, and honest. No one had to speak, but many did. We went on for a half-an-hour. I was honestly shocked that a room full of pubescent teens could handle such a thing. Now I know better.

When I transitioned into the next activity, my students returned to normal-teen-status, “whaaaa?” and “can we do more?” Perfect, I thought. We’ll circle back to this (and soon). It feels really important to push my students into the space of consideration even if it causes discomfort. It is my responsibility as a social studies teacher in 2020 to create this kind of community. A community where students are sitting among peers who they know have outrageously different beliefs, but are nevertheless the same — human. They need to know and accept that one person is a die-hard-pro-Trumper, while another is seriously concerned about the tone and tenor of our current leader; that the social agenda of Democrats is a dream-come-true for some classmates, while others feel truly outraged at those ideas.

You may or may not teach social studies. You may or may not teach teens. But maybe we can all learn from these folks. My 4th hour American History class, — teens who are so beyond these petty politics — for they are a role model to us all.

Musical Chairs

I have no idea what happened in the month of January. It came; it went; we haven’t had a snow day, but we’re still alive.

My eighth graders have been in some sort of sweet groove, and I’m loving it.

They just produced some high quality writing using The Write Structure method, and I couldn’t be more proud. Due to new curriculum our district adopted, my colleagues and I changed up our argumentative essay writing method. The essay structure remained the same, but we introduced some freedom in choosing an argumentative topic. This was exciting and invigorating for the kids. Many of my students petitioned for this topic: (adding more) movement in school. We (yes, me included!) learned so much about the how movement throughout the school day influences a child’s experience at school. This was the best case scenario — my kids wrote what they cared about and helped change my thinking in the meantime. My biggest takeaway? — they want to move more, and research supports it… so, let’s do it!

I’ve always done little things to keep my kids moving, such as, Standing Conversations. This was more of a random method — certainly not something I intentionally included on a regular basis. Here’s an idea that thats similar but more structured: Musical Chairs (keep reading because this is not the kind of musical chairs you might be thinking of). Here’s the play-by-play of how it works in my room:

• Students complete an entry task (on mini-whiteboards or sticky notes) — this task is often a through-provoking question related to the topic of the day’s lesson, some sort of review from the day before, or practice with a task we’ve recently learned.

• I play a song. When they music’s going, my students shimmy around the room.

• As soon as the music stops, they sit down at a new seat.

• Here’s were crystal-clear directions are important: students either read the entry which they might later nominate for whole-class sharing, or they fix the errors on the entry, or they write a smily-face, star, or “good-job” if' it’s well done.

• Music plays again; they move again. Sit down and repeat directions from above.

• Music plays a third time, and back to the their seats they go.

• I’ve been taking a few moments to let them check any corrections that were made, nominate a great entry for whole-class sharing, or doing a verbal review of what they should have written down.

  I always feared that too much movement would cause chaos and loads of wasted time. But, I’m finding the more I include sharing methods like Musical Chairs, the less time it takes my students to refocus.

  I’m glad they asked; I’m happy I listened. It turns out that when they’re moving, we’re all happy.

A 2020 State of Mind

Someone I admire recently said they were hoping to enter the new year with 20/20 vision for the future. It took me a minute to process, and then I was like, oh, duh… 2020. Dummy me. I love this idea, and I’ve been pondering it ever since. Along with each new year comes the following bold and daring statements:

• we are purging this house of all of the crap we do not need and even some of the stuff we do

• I will eat only vegetables and drink only water for the next (fill in the blank) days

• we will limit all screen time to four minutes a day

• I will work out every day for the whole year (Can I get a resounding, HA!)

And then, after a week or two we return to normal and little change has been made.

I fall prey to this unproductive goal-making every.single.new year. Raise your hand if you’re with me.

Clarity of mind in this new year, however, feels right. Sure I’ll purge a little and feel fresher for a bit, but I am truly hoping to reorient my mind this year — what really matters to me?

We’re teachers, and running a classroom requires no small amount detail-oriented planning.

Earlier this school year, someone who doesn’t know me that well asked if I was a perfectionist. Of course, I got all huffy and puffy and mumbled an indecipherable reply, “uh, no, I mean, well, I like things done nicely. I guess, maybe I am — but, I try to be laid back?”

That cloudy reply keeps resurfacing in my brain. I wonder if my propensity to micromanage all of the details has me feeling more frantic and harried than I need to? The year is flying by, yet I have been so worried about details that I forget to focus on what matters. Sitting down for little chats with my students here and there? Um, not as much as I could. How many teachable moments have slipped away in the day-to-day hustle and bustle of do-this and do-that?

I’m refocusing my mind and my vision in 2020. Chill out on the details that don’t matter; focus on the big things that do. The emails can wait; opportunities to connect with students cannot —especially if I hear they’re playing badminton in gym class.

Cheers to a 2020 state of mind — I wish us all a year of clarity and joy.

Making Spirits Bright

I’m wrapping up 2019 thinking about light, goodness, and warmth. When it feels like there is not enough goodness to go around, I stop dead-in-my tracks and do a little reflecting. In these moments, I must remind myself of why I do what I do. The job of a teacher is to inspire. Period. In one way or another, we are all working to spread light. To promote goodness. To be warmth in the lives of all kids — some whose circumstances are quite comfortable and others who feel left out in the cold.

It’s the holiday season, and our spirits are bright. But here’s something to ponder — can we keep this feeling with us when the gifts are put away and the tree is tossed out? I think so. What if we commit to carrying a never-ending warmth and loads of positive energy into the new year? In 2020, let’s pledge to brighten the spirits of those kids we show up for day-after-day-after-day-after-day — even when the going gets tough.

Sprint to the finish, friend! In just a moment, it’ll be time to shut your brain off and enjoy a restful break.

I wish you an oh-so-merry holiday,

Lindsay

Positive Vibes on a Saturday Morning

Have you ever found yourself inspired in a most unlikely way?

Recently, this happened to me. The source of my inspiration? An overused phrase on the front of a 5-T crew cut.

Yes, you read that correctly. I found inspiration from a particle of children’s clothing.

Here’s what happened. A few Fridays ago, I opened our front door to find a giant bag on the porch. A sweet friend had dropped off a bunch of clothes her son had outgrown. It was a pleasant surprise at the end of an otherwise tough week.

So, that evening, I mindlessly unloaded the bag, sorted the piles, and folded the clothes. I found that my mind kept dwelling on some tough moments from the school week. My spirit was stirred (and, not in a good way). Just then, I noticed a phrase repeated on multiple shirts — “positive vibes ahead.” I stopped to think, do I really believe that?

On that Friday evening, the light that was shining brightly in my heart at the beginning of the school year had begun to fade. But a little inspiration from a kid’s t-shirt got me thinking about how to re-light the flame of positivity within myself.

I woke up that Saturday morning with the same thought in my head. Are there positive vibes ahead? If I were to be honest then and now, I’m not sure. I can’t bank on positive things coming at me day-by-day in the midst of a crazy week at school. But, what I can bank on, is my ability to make positive things happen. I set forth that Saturday morning (and each one since), to send positive vibes out into my little corner of the world.

It takes all of eight minutes and a total of three e-mails. One to a colleague and two to parents. In each note, I recount a positive happening from the week prior plus something I’m grateful for.

I know many people who are good at this sort of the thing on the daily. I admire these folks. For me, recounting good things on a Saturday morning has become my North Star. I just keep following it week after week, letting it lead me where it may. And in doing so, I end up spreading a little light and a few positive vibes along the way.

Running on Empty & A Way to Fuel Up

We have entered the stretch. The one that makes us ache for a long winter’s nap or a Hallmark movie-marathon. Many of us are pouring from empty cups. We’ve been sprinting at full speed since early August. We’re tired. We’re worn down. We’re low on fuel, yet we must press on. Holiday breaks cannot come soon enough, amiright?

As we consider the season ahead — which here in Michigan, means months of winter and cozying up indoors — I’ve got an idea that might just nurture your soul and breath new life into your instruction. I believe it’s possible to both rejuvenate ourselves and inspire our students.

I spend a lot of my “miscellaneous” time listening to podcasts. They keep me company while I wash dishes, run on the treadmill and take care of laundry. One of my favorites is TED Radio Hour from NPR. There are a few things I love about this podcast:

-each episode focuses on a central theme

-the featured TED Talks and interviews are highly engaging

-the content is easily relatable

-NPR provides 12’ish minute audio clips of each portion of every podcast on its website

In addition to inspiring and refreshing my soul, these podcasts truly engage my students in a different way than other content-delivery-formats do. I recently played a 12 minute audio clip from a TED Radio Hour podcast for my eighth graders. The topic related to our Language Arts unit of study, “What Matters,” and man-o-man were they locked in. I had my students jot down information in the form of a Thinking Map (Flow Map) as they listened. [Side note: you might marry podcast clips with Thinking Routines — various other formats into which students can catalogue the information and their own thinking.]

I’m newly committed to tucking these little TED Radio Hour podcast clips — along with a Thinking Map or a Thinking Routine — into as much of my content as possible.

So, maybe take a few minutes in this next season to cozy up with TED Radio Hour. At the very least, you’ll hear a few fascinating stories and glean some thought-provoking information. And, heck, who knows — you might just find that you’re fueled back up and ready to try a little something new in your classroom.

Baby Jalapeños

This note is long overdue — but, better late than never. I hope it brings a bit of encouragement to your Friday.

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This summer, something odd happened in our jalapeño planter. We had been out of town for two weeks, returned home, and were delighted to see that our plants had nearly doubled in size. The jalapeño plant, in particular, was enormous. Green foliage had burst from the stems and up toward the sun.

My delight quickly turned to confusion when I gave the plant a closer examination. Odd, I thought, there are only a couple of little, baby jalapeños forming on the stem. How could a plant grow so large and look so beautiful, yet have so little fruit?

I am no horticulturist, but I noticed two different shades of green leaves on the plant. What’s more, some of the leaves had smooth edges while others were jagged. I pulled the plant apart, and alas, solved the mystery. The growth in the jalapeño planter was not a vegetable at all; it was a ridiculously huge weed. The stalk was thicker than the plant’s — twice it’s size — and of course, jalapeño-less. I promptly ripped that sucker out of the pot and heaved it into the woods.

Within a week, the tiny jalapeños that were suffocating under the strain of that giant weed started to flourish. They soaked up the sun and retrieved suitable nutrients from the soil.

Sometimes I feel like those baby jalapeños. Suffering under the weight of all the things — some of which I can control and some of which I cannot. Our work as teachers involves a lot of responding to things we did not choose. These burdens can steal our joy and cause us grief. But, that’s only if we let them. I think it’s a good idea to focus our efforts on that which we can control.

I’m thinking about the tone and energy of my classroom. I wonder how I can better control my interactions with students. Middle schoolers are a handful, and it doesn’t take much for me to succumb to their collective crazy. I must remember — how I lead them is 100% in my control. It’s the way I react to the student who is not on task. The words I say when I get at his or her level to redirect. The tone of voice I use to guide and correct. The number of times I say an affirming word instead of a critical comment. When I choose to hold my tongue, instead of letting that sarcastic line slip out. I need to make a daily choice to rip out the weeds that disrupt the positive energy in my classroom.

Get rid of the weeds, and the nutrients will flow. We can’t flourish when we’re in the weeds and neither can our classrooms. So I wonder, what weed can you rip out, my friend? What’s weighing you down? If it’s in your control, let it go, rip it out, heave it into the woods.

A Ray of Sunshine

I ran into a friend today who asked how life was going now that I’m back to teaching full-time. 

My rambling reply ended with, “it’s just tough to be stretched so thin.”

She knew what I meant; she’s in a similar boat —small kids at home, a house to manage, childcare hiccups, planning impactful lessons, conferencing with all the students, mentoring younger colleagues, and so on, and so on.

These days it doesn’t take long for me to launch into a list of my woes. My shoulders are heavy. My brain is on overload. Being a full-time mama and a full-time educator is no joke. 

But tonight, I felt a ray of sunshine. 

After an evening of making muffins with the kids, our four-year-old asked me to help him create an “idea box” out of the baking mix container (no, I do not know what an idea box is; he’s four and vague on details). He used his creation to deliver the aforementioned baked goods to the rest of the family (this further confused me… wait, it’s an idea box slash serving tray?). Then, as I sat on the patio watching my husband and our five-year-old play a very entertaining game of “bat-and-wiffleball-diving-catch-ESPN-Top10-Plays-of-the-Day” (yes, that is what they call this game; these members of the family are extra heavy on details), an actual ray of sunshine poked through the gray clouds and landed right on my face.

It occurred to me then — there is so much to be grateful for, an adoring husband, the sweetest kids, terrific students, and kind-hearted colleagues. I’ve heard wise folks say that we should talk more about our blessings than our burdens. So, in the spirit of their wisdom, I hereby declare that to be my goal — to focus on the many, many rays of sunshine in my life, to center my thoughts and to focus my words on all of the good things in life.  

I hope you, too, can find the rays of sunshine — minute by minute, day by day. Keep up the good work, friends. We’re in this together. 

Lindsay

Chill Out & Save the Egg

Five days into the school year, and I’m already in need of a reminder to chill out (my husband actually said those exact words to me last night, as in, “Lindsay, you need to chill out”). I wrote a little something related to this topic a month ago (At Least Their Teeth are Brushed), and now I’m saying to myself “at least I know half of their names.” Anyone else feel jolted into reality after a delightful summer filled with light, breezy days?

I think this idea is worth revisiting; give yourself some grace, take it slow, and focus on what matters. For me, that’s being sure to work in the time to build my classroom community.

And on that note, here’s a fun community-building activity I recently learned about:

I’m going to give this save-the-egg-activity a try later this week with my middle schoolers (but with an added literacy twist). To enhance the creative requirements and get my kids thinking about writing and story-telling, they will have to…

• name,

• decorate,

• write (and share aloud) their egg’s fictional story-of-origin… all before it hits the floor.

Something about an activity like this reminds me that in the beginning of the year, it’s extra important to have some fun, get acquainted with my kiddos and for the sake of every’s sanity, chillllllll out.

Best wishes for a great school year, everyone.

Lindsay

Mind Purge

Friends, I’m excited to share that today’s note is a guest post from my friend and colleague Josh Traughber. Enjoy!

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Last year, several weeks into the school year, a teacher asked me to stop by her classroom. As a principal, whenever I’m asked to stop in a room, that generally means one thing, a student behavior issue. After a few minutes, I managed to break away from what I was doing and walk down the hallway to the teacher’s classroom. As I stepped in to approach the teacher, I happened to look at the whiteboard to see something completely different than what I was expecting. Bear in mind that I see a lot of whiteboard spaces; this was a unique sight. It also happened to be the reason I was asked to come into the classroom. The teacher had just learned a new technique for eliciting student knowledge, and she was excited to show meOur minds are powerful vehicles for action, for speaking, and for thinking, but like any other things, they get bogged down. All of these are vital to our perceived and actual abilities, but it is the last one I want to focus on - thinking. I’m not frequently in the habit of comparing the mind to a vehicle engine, but it seems to fit. Anytime I get my truck’s oil changed, I’m reminded that it is one of the most important aspects to the health of it. Of course, oil is the very lubricant that keeps the engine going. Though it also serves other critical functions. According to Meineke’s website, oil advances longevity. Without an oil change, other parts have to work harder in order for the vehicle to perform. Oil also fronts as a cleaning mechanism. Per the aforementioned website, ‘Dirt particles are deadly to engines. Over time, dirt can cause corrosion and decrease the life of an engine…[t]he name of the game is to keep the engine clean. Routine oil and filter changes help remove particles and sludge and keep engines at peak condition.’ Among other functions (e.g., lubricates), oil promotes longevity and helps divert gunk from building up in the engine. Ultimately, each of these functions impact optimal performance, but only, and this is the key, when the oil is purged regularly. 

Purging your thoughts, similar to the reason for changing the engine’s oil, is critical to cognitive performance. This was the technique I was shown by the classroom teacher as earlier described. She learned how to help students remove subjective - and perhaps too narrow - thoughts from their minds in preparation for an upcoming test. This approach was a way to enhance students’ collective thinking about the tested concepts, and according to a conversation with her afterwards, it worked. The students grades increased when compared with historical data.  

So, what’s the takeaway here? The mind is a horrible place to store information. Anything worth thinking deeply about is worth storing elsewhere. In this way, thoughts need to be documented in order for our performance to be what it ought to be. And as leaders - parents, educators, professionals - we have to bring our best each day. Thus, as you peer into the upcoming season, and grapple with the busyness thereof, purge your thoughts. Not because you don’t want to think about them, but rather, so that you can thoroughly develop them and make them what they ought to be. This will help you be your best self in the short term (i.e, removes the potential ‘particles and sludge’), which naturally positions you for a more productive long term (i.e., advancing your longevity). 

Josh Traughber is a principal, husband, and father of three. He writes regularly at jtraughber.com. Navigate to his website to learn more about what he’s up to.

At Least Their Teeth Are Brushed

Summer is such a whirlwind of fun and sun and joy.

Last night my kids went to bed late with dirty feet and sunburned faces. I forgot to apply sunscreen all day, and we skipped bathing altogether. But, I thought to myself, at least their teeth are brushed.

Sometimes we just have to focus on the little successes and not sweat the big stuff so much.

We’re gearing up for a school year that is fast approaching. I don’t know about you, but I get all sorts of bothered when I think about the year as a whole — all those looming goals and the to do list that will never end.

It is important to stay balanced when thinking about the year ahead.

Details for the first few days come first, sweating the big stuff comes later.

Don’t get me wrong, I map out the whole year. And I especially plan for the instruction that can get lost in the mix — modeling writing for my students, weaving in guided practice when teaching writing, and including those oh-so-important writing conferences. But is my plan fail-proof? No. Is it a loose? Yes. Will it change? You bet.

I hope we can all put our minds at ease as we start this new school year. At the end of that crazy first week of school, it’s perfectly fine to say to ourselves, “at least their teeth are brushed.”

You Need a Vacation (Oh William, Part 3)

Last summer William had a breakdown.

He caught a weird sort of canine virus and got really sick. He wasn’t eating. He laid on the cold tile for hours and hours. He struggled to walk. And, as you can imagine, it gave us a fright.

William’s demeanor didn’t improve after the virus had passed, so the veterinarian recommended a costly procedure to check for cancer. Our hearts dropped.

My husband disregarded the expert’s advice and prescribed a totally non-medical treatment plan — a vacation.

So, against all conventional wisdom, we took William on vacation and spoiled him rotten. He gorged on ice cream cones, dog treats, and cheese burgers. We took him to the beach, got him a tan, and played hours of fetch in Lake Michigan.

I bet you can guess how this story ends. No cancer. No nothing. William’s fine.

It turns out he just needed a vacation.

And, I’m willing to bet you do, too. And, good news! — if you’re not already there yet, a break is coming soon! Here’s a little something to dream about as you sprint to the finish: the first Monday morning of summer break. Gone is the alarm clock, the urgent emails, the frantic rushing out the door. You get to savor an actual breakfast at an actual table with actual conversation at whatever pace you like.

William (and his antics) have once again provided a reminder that is worth holding onto. We all need a break once and awhile. Entire school staffs show up year-after-year because they couldn’t mentally do it without a break. Take summer away and we’d all be curled up on the cold tile floor.

So, cheers to summer, ice cream cones, and whatever body of water you can lose yourself in for awhile. You need a vacation. Enjoy it.

Finishing With Heart (Oh William, Part 2)

William, our wonderfully rambunctious family dog, has become something of a metaphor. William is totally bonkers yet entirely lovable; because of this, he is the ultimate paradox. Reflecting on William’s behavior has reminded me to show love with my time and a whole lot of heart.

As I’ve noted before, William does things that drive us bananas. But for all of his belligerence and misbehaving, he is surprisingly in touch with his emotions. William is a dog, yet he has real feelings. His heart gets broken, and that’s when he’s his naughtiest. But when we talk to William in a kind voice and pet the spot behind his ear that he loves, or play fetch with him for just 10 minutes, he’s immediately calm and gentle. And, not surprisingly, when we ignore him, he turns into a lunatic-dog. It’s crystal clear to me now — he’s craving our time, our attention. There’s something to learn here.

Time is the most valuable commodity we have. Yet it is so, so limited — especially at this point in the school year. But I wonder, can we spare a bit of time? Time for our Williams, for those who need more than we might be giving right now.

I see this play out in my kids’ early childhood school building on the regular. I am always amazed and heartened by how much the teachers and staff love their students. They show it in the way they act, but also in the way they give their time. They get to the kids’ level, they listen, they are not rushed.

Evan’s Young Fives teacher corrects with kindness and lingers for a minute longer than needed to make sure the kiddos know she cares. She plays chase at recess and goes the extra mile for each and every kid. Our 3-year-old’s teacher doesn’t hesitate to play a puzzle with him when I’m running late, and she takes the time to finish it while I sit there swooning over her love for him and her job.

If we looked deep inside, I think we’d find that all of us — ourselves and our students — have a little or a lot of William in us. We are all a paradox of some sort and crave more time with someone we love or care about.

No doubt, the job of a teacher is intense. Yet amazingly, we all have the capacity — even if it’s only for a minute — to give more time to someone who needs us.

I hope we can all finish this school year with heart, for the good of our work, but mostly for all of the Williams out there.

Dear Younger Me

I’ve spent a lot of time this year thinking about authenticity. And, fittingly, this notion was the centerpiece of a project I was honored to contribute to last month. Out district’s (terrific) middle and high school counselors put on The Empowerment Project wherein teachers were asked to write letters to our younger selves. We were filmed reading our letters, and those clips came together in a beautiful chorus of stories and life-lessons for the audience to learn from. Not only was this exercise therapeutic for me personally, but the experience of writing a letter to my younger self helped me reframe the way I think about teaching, mentoring, and raising up the students and children in my life.

So, it is with a bit of nervousness and a lot of vulnerability that I share my letter with you. I hope it will inspire you to think about how your story, your journey, and your own life-lessons shape the very important work you do each day.

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Dear Younger Me,

You are fearfully and wonderfully made. You love a good laugh and can throw out a witty line with the best of them. You are loved more than you can imagine by your family. But, you already know all of this. You’ve still got a lot ahead of you, so here are a few things to help you along.

I know you fret an awful lot about your physical appearance. You want to fit in; you want to be liked. Your appearance is so important it feels like your only identity. Listen, you are more than what you look like on the outside. So stop worrying so much about it. Anyone who makes a big deal about how you look is not someone you should give yourself to.

Instead of focusing on superficial things — like clothes and a pretty face —, invest in your mind, your heart, and your faith.

Instead of trying to be liked and fit in, love and include others.

Remember in the seventh grade, when you were one of only two kids to get cut from the volleyball team? Granted, prior to tryouts, you had never played volleyball a day in your life — but still — you were devastated and humiliated. And then, horrifically, that same year, you signed up for track and collapsed in an asthma-induced wheezing fit during the mile. With everyone’s eyes fixed on you as they trotted on by, you sat there feeling like an idiot. These were low-points to be sure, but you were so quick to give up. You quit the track team and never even considered developing volleyball skills and trying out again. You will eventually learn that you are capable of so much more than you think. Asthma can be managed and scrawny arms can be made strong. Pick yourself up even when you’re embarrassed or scared to fail again.

It pains me to tell you this, but it’s the truth. You will have to say goodbye to some people you love way, way too soon. The grief that accompanies all of this will feel crippling. It will be tempting to shove it down, numb it, ignore it, and run from it. But don’t. Let yourself cry. Feel emotion. If someone offers you a shoulder to cry on, take it and soak it with your tears. It takes courage to let your emotions show. And when you walk through the darkness of pain and let yourself grieve, you will awaken in the morning to light, new eyes, and a joy you never knew was possible. People who love you will surround you, and care for you, and want to be your friend. Let them in.

But know this: it takes work to heal, repair, and mend wounds. It’s easier to hide from pain and isolate yourself, but don’t take the bait. Fall into the arms of your beloveds. Bravely confide in people you trust. Take the time to build and foster new relationships. And know that healing will come.

One day, not long from now, you will meet someone who sees into your soul. You will know this person is your person because he will treat you like a queen. But for all of his doting over you, he will value and cherish your intellect and talent more than anything. He will support your work, your ideas, your passions, and most of all, he will challenge you to make them better. Your joy will be his joy, and his joy will be your joy. This is the one your heart should love.

Keep taking time to reflect and grow. The work of growing up never stops. You will never have it all figured out, but your faith will guide you and your dear ones will support you.

Finally, there are people all around you who need to be loved. Pray for eyes to see them and have the boldness to love them. In this you will find meaning, strength, and joy.

You are a gift to this world.

There is Great Joy Ahead

One of the great delights of parenting is experiencing a shared joy with our children. Who among us hasn’t impressed one of our own passions onto our kid just so we can experience it through their eyes? Well, if it’s just me, I’m not ashamed. My oldest child has recently fallen in love with reading (yay! yay! yay!), and you can bet I jumped all over that. We read “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” together, and I can’t imagine a more captivating experience. Now that my book-nerdiness is on full display, I’d like to share a bit from C.S. Lewis’s text that has me thinking.

“Every moment more and more of the trees shook off their robes of snow. Soon, wherever you looked, instead of white shapes you saw the dark green of firs or the black prickly branches of bare oaks and beeches and elms… Shafts of delicious sunlight struck down on the forest floor and overhead you could see blue sky between the treetops.”

What a beautiful description of spring ascending onto Narnia. It seemed winter (literally and figuratively) would last forever, and then, aha! It thawed at long last. The spring thaw in Narnia was not equal to instantaneous peace. But surely it was a sign of the days to come. In the shifting seasons there is beauty — from hardship and sacrifice to renewal, freedom, and goodness. And as I read and reread the passage above, I hold tight to this truth: there is great joy ahead.

We are presently in one of those times of the year. Conferences. Daylight saving time steals an hour of sleep. The gloomy gray skies weigh heavily on our spirits. State Tests loom in the not-so-distant future, and so on and so on. A lot of hard work and a lot of sacrifice make it difficult to imagine carefree days and the warmth of the sun. But take hope, there is great joy ahead. Just hold on a little longer, keep doing your thing, keep praising those kiddos, and in all the ways you know how, rock on, my friends.