The House

Every time I walk to my bedroom, I look in the room that used to be my grandmother's bedroom.  I look for her bed and her laying in it

In the morning, when I crawl out of bed, I half expect her to be waiting in the kitchen with cinnamon toast for me.

At night, I glance into the kitchen sometimes when I'm sitting and long to see her sitting at the table, reading her Bible and studying along.

At night, sometimes I glance at the kitchen table where she used to sit every night.  I long to see her there, reading her worn out Bible.

I expect and long and want all of these things, but obviously, they're not in the realm of reality.

However, as I've made my Granny's home into my own, I've tried to fill it with little pieces of her:

-In almost every room there is a seashell (or 50).  She loved the beach and collected shells avidly.  We found so many shells as we were going through the house that we didn't know what to do.  I've tried to find a space for as many as I can!

-I have books and books and books filled in every room.  Our shared love - stories.  Every single time I would come over to her house for a visit, she would tell me about the book she was reading.  One whole wall of my guest room is a bookshelf.  I've often wondered if I'd ever have a house with enough room for all my books, and of course, Granny's would.

-In the room (that used to be her bedroom) is now my "parlor/office/library".  It has a built-in bookshelf that I love.  I've filled it with pictures and books that belonged to her.  My favorite shelf shows off her wedding album, letters she sent to my grandfather during their "courting", and a picture of the two of them.  I also have a picture of her parents, her baby shoes, and lots of books that belonged to her.

-My kitchen has several framed recipes that were handwritten by her.  My favorite being her famous strawberry cake that she made for my birthday every year.  I also have her rolling pins, china, punchbowl, and various other items that were her's displayed.  I think the kitchen was her favorite room.  That's where she spent so many hours baking and cooking and talking on the landline phone.  It makes me happy to be in there because it is the room that reminds me of her most.

-My sister helped me create a "gallery wall" of photos in my living room, and I love how it turned out.  It has several pictures of my grandmother and my family.  I used pictures I found throughout the house and some frames she already used.  I'm anxious to add to it.

My mom and I were talking about her the other day.  She was saying how she badly she missed her.  We talked about how we couldn't believe it's almost been a year since she passed.  I told her I have to stop myself from thinking about it too much.  Though her house is a huge blessing, and I adore living here...at the same time, sometimes it's hard.  It's hard to be around so many things that remind me of her.  Being in THIS house that was HER house.  A huge chunk of my childhood memories revolve around this house and all the time I spent in it.  It's a catch-22 some days.  Loving this house, but not having her in it.

I don't believe in ghosts, though completely get that some people do.  I think I don't because if I did I wouldn't sleep at night.  However, I feel her sometimes.  A cool air will pass and I'll get a sense of peace.  I know that's her.  One night when I was laying in my bed, I just sensed her.  Not her ghost, or anything like that, but maybe her spirit, or just her love that this house will always have in it.

Not just because of the house, but just because of who she was in my life, I think about her every day.  I think about what an impact she made in my life.  I think about the little things she used to do.  I love and miss her in a way I didn't understand until she died.

Reflection #9

*Old post found in the drafts...from June 2017*

I've spent the better part of the past two years wondering if I made the right decision to leave Rockingham.  I try to remember why I left.  Why was it important in that moment to move?  The things I left behind (status, students knowing me, clubs, department responsibilities, faculty, etc).  Why was I ready to leave?  I think, at the time, I felt like I had hit a wall or rut or something.  Like Thoreau walking to and from his house at Walden Lake - there was this routine and I felt I needed something else.

There were, of course, several other factors that came into play.  I wanted to be closer to my family, I needed a stronger social life with people my age, I needed out of the small town where there was very little going on.  Basically, I needed an overhaul.  A change.

When the opportunity to teach at Mt. Tabor came, I didn't feel like I could turn it down.  It came at an opportune time in my life to welcome change and act on it. It meant moving to a bigger town, teaching with two of my best friends, working at a well-known school, working for an enthusiastic principal who made me feel at home from the moment I interviewed with him.  Did I give it enough thought?  I don't know.  I don't regret one moment of it.  I was closer to Morganton when everything with Granny went down.  I was able to teach with Em and Carrie.  I was forced to grow in my teaching and change the way I taught.  I met students who challenged me.  Yet, most of the time...it was hard.  It was really hard.  Dealing with the emotions of Granny's illness and death on top of really difficult students was, at times, more than I could handle. So, once again, this opportunity to move back home stuck in my head.  Had it been eight years previous, there wouldn't have been a hesitation.  But moving meant starting over...again.

Moving back to Freedom?  Moving back home?  Living in Granny's house?  Moving away from the city and my friends?  Moving away from something I was just getting used to?  These all kept me wondering whether it was the right decision to move.  Of course, there were positives.  But I was again in a position of having to make a BIG decision.

I prayed and talked to friends and family.  I decided to at least make an attempt and go from there.  After an interview that felt like it went well and walking around my old alma mater and feeling like it might be a good fit...the limbo and waiting set in.  And then the call came and the ball was officially rolling.

Reality set in.  I was going to have to learn a new school and students and faculty...again.  Moving...again.  Finding my place in my old town and school.  These daunting thoughts kept me grounded in the land of doubt, fret, anxiety, and fear (granted, I stay in that land 80% of the time).

August rolled in and moving was finally over.  House was on its way of becoming my home.  The classroom was set up.  Now to really begin...again.

The year started off well.  I really, really love the English department at FHS.  They're kind, supportive, hilarious, and incredible at what they do.  I also found other faculty members who welcomed me and took me under their wing.  Teaching all freshmen was something brand new.  I've taught freshmen before, but three back to back to back classes..whew.  Discovering ways to help my kids plus figuring out other programs the county has in place forced me into even more learning.  If you ever think you've been enlightened on everything that there is to learn in teaching you're crazy.

Even in my 9th year of this profession, I found so many errors.  I know perfection never happens in teaching - nor should it!  If you're not learning from your craft, something is wrong.  I'm hard on myself.  I find the errors and it grounds me and frustrates me into thinking that I'm not a good teacher.  I had to quickly get over that.

This year has, again, been challenging.  I expect (in some way or another) every year to be challenging.  Last year was challenging...which leads me back to my original question...why did I leave Rockingham?  Why didn't I just move from Ruffin to Greensboro?  Just bought a cute condo or townhouse?  Commute 25 minutes - continue teaching my classes I was used to and really build the new programs I had started there.

Why?

Because it's God's plan and not mine.  Because I needed Caroline when I got the news that my grandmother wasn't doing well.  Because I needed and trusted Em and Carrie to take care of my classes when I wasn't there, and I needed them to catch me when I fell apart in those next few weeks.  I needed that hour closer to Morganton.  I needed to learn how to quickly break up a fight.  Because God knew where I was needed.  Because maybe I helped a few kids that year at Tabor.  He knew and He knows even when I don't.  (I feel like sometimes He is using an old worn out map instead of Google Maps.)

Working at FHS this year has been a hard transition.  Learning new things, learning how to not completely lose my temper when 30 freshmen push every button you have.  But being here has been such a treat, too.  Working with amazing teachers.  Working with friends.  Laughing til it hurts at lunch and making new connections.  Teaching kids who make me laugh and make me cry and make me scream (internally) and make me remember why I teach.

God knows where I'm supposed to be.  I love the people I work with.  I love making Granny's home into my home.  I love being close to my family.  I love that I'm not too far from any of my friends.

I don't doubt His plan.  I still (and always will) miss Rockingham.  But it's not where I'm meant to be right now at this point in my life.  The grass isn't always greener, but with sunshine, water, and love, you can reminisce and think about the other side while learning to love and grow where you are - and love making memories on both.

Pieces of Poetry

At the heart of vulnerability lies my poetry.  But, in the spirit of sharing, I'm throwing some of it down. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Never wavering, I still lose touch

He keeps me in His hand

But I feel it's not enough

My child, why are you restless?

My child, why can't you see?

I've never lost faith in you,

Why do you in me?

CB 11/9/17

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Guided only by the dark, 

She slowly crawls from

One cliff to the next.

The only thing that connects

is a worn bridge. 

The bridge is weathered

Torn, bashed, falling apart.

Underneath the dark waters rush.

Foot in front of foot

She makes her way

But the wind

But the dark

But the isolation

It slows her down. 

It swings in the air

It buckles under the weight

It creaks in stubborn anger

It will not hold

Can I make it?

Is the light on the other side?

Can I hold on?

CB 12/11/17

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In my mind

I write every day

All the things I want to say

In my mind 

The words just pour

Out into the bowl, given a stir

In my mind 

The flow is easy

Nothing but cool air, nice and breezy

In my mind 

Everything comes out

Screaming with a shout:

These are my words

This is my truth

Won't keep it in

Around and around, the words...they spin. 

CB 7/5/19

On the 33rd Year...

I have never been early, not even for my birth
Mom labored and labored to no avail
Finally, after the decision to open up the womb was made
The doctor pulled me out of the warm comfort
And I've been a little lost and cold ever since

I look back in wonder...
How did I get to a place where I say, "I'm in my 30's"
That one lyric from "Strawberry Wine" - "I still remember...when 30 was old..."
Her biggest fear was September, mine is just the cold

Everyone says youth is wasted on the young.
As I continue to creep into my middle years...
I see myself saying, "Back when I was young" and "Kids these days"
I relate to the statement more and more...

I have wasted so much time in worry doubt, self-abuse, and frustration.
I have not loved and held on to the moments when I should have.
Written down the precious seconds and minutes that took my breath away

Never have regrets "they" say (who are they anyway)
I imagine "they" are the ones who have an idea of what life is on the other side...

The guilt consumes as the anxiety is in a constant ebb and flow-
Depression, their dear friend, older brother, and comrade in battle hold their hands
All housed in a comfy little corner in my head.
Sly whispers are constantly churning from their mouth as they group up in arms
"You aren't good enough"
"They don't need you"
"Why are you even trying?"
"You'll never find the light"

The sunshine of friends and family should be bright enough to eclipse the dark
The warmth of those beams should lift the shade
But, at times, the black night prevails
The shadow lingers
The doubt holds my hand

Where do I go from here?
What do I do as I wade through the choppy waters of life?
Hang onto the lifesavers...
Latch onto the lighthouses...

Cling to the precious buoys that keep me afloat.

CB 5/21/19

My Not-So-Chemical Romance

I often like to picture myself in the ocean.  Any ocean will do, but ideally, it's warm and the sun is shining on me as I float on my back in the serene water.  It's my safe place.  It's the "happy place" people tell me to go to whenever I feel stressed.  It's also the best way I can describe my depression and anxiety to someone.  While the ocean is a holy place for me, it's also a metaphor for my demons.

Imagine floating along the current.  The sun is out, the water is the perfect temp, and life is good.  Suddenly, the clouds turn gray and begin to hover over.  You hear thunder in the distance.  You try to open your eyes, but waves appear out of nowhere.  You struggle to orient yourself with where you are, but can't seem to find the shore.  What once was an outline of sand and coast is now a distant memory.  You can't seem to get your balance, catch your breath, or get your footing.  Everything hurts.  Your lungs hurt from trying to yell and breathe.  Your arms hurt from trying to fight the weight of the depth.  Slowly, ever so slowly, you just feel like giving up.  You just want the water to slide over you and sink beneath, because maybe...just maybe, you'll find some peace.

The darkness.  That's the depression.  And just like the ocean, it comes and goes, ebbs and flows fighting the tide.  Some days are floating, sunshine, and happiness, but some days are dark, cold, and lonely.

But if the sinking represents the depression, the constant waves represent anxiety.  Trying to swim and catch your breath, but the waves keep coming up.  Over and over and over.  That's how my thoughts are.  They can't be turned off.  Every time you come up for air and feel like you can breathe, the wave builds up and crashes over you, sending you under with salt and water in your nose.  You sometimes feel like all the water is filling your lungs.  They keep on coming, they keep on building, they're relentless.

Anxiety is like trying to enjoy a sunny day at the beach but being constantly worried or transfixed on every single thing that could go wrong.  Did I pack enough sunscreen?  Are those waves too high for that kid that I don't know?  Did that person glance at me weirdly - do I have something wrong or misplaced on me?  Am I going to have enough time to do the thing I need to do next week?  All the sudden, in the middle of what should be a glorious day, your heart hurts so much and your brain hurts so much, you just sit there.  You just sit in the middle of beauty feeling empty and overwhelmed.  That's when you head to the ocean to either sink or swim.  Find one of the two above mentioned options.

What I've learned about depression and anxiety is that it's different for everyone.  My feelings and how I deal with it are completely different from how another person deals with it.  For a long time, I just refused to deal with it.  It's only been in the past few years that I've really been able to verbalize and understand it.  And as a great life mentor told me, sometimes you just have to own it.

I've had anxiety for the better part of 14 years.  I remember the day my doctor mentioned the idea of having anxiety and depression.  I balked at the thought (I was 17 at the time).  Sure, high school was tough...sure, I was terrified of all these changes, but depression?  Anxiety?  No.  That wasn't it.  About a year later when the same feeling persisted and another doctor mentioned it, I finally agreed to talk about it.  I suppose that was the start of all of this.  But, on reflection, it probably went back much further than that.  Back then, I felt like the stigma of mental health was one where you swept it under the rug.  I didn't know anyone with anxiety, and I certainly never heard anyone talking about feeling anxious and definitely not depressed.  I think that's why I was so sure that my doctor was ridiculous to suggest that anything like that was wrong with me.  I couldn't be grouped in that category that was never discussed...almost taboo...

For a long time, I tried to hide all of this.  In my 20's, I was still understanding what was going on in my mind.  I felt like to be a "good" student in college, a "good" friend, etc, I had to fit this certain image.  I would go on medication, start feeling better and then stop.  Go to therapy, start feeling better...stop.  Obviously, all this starting and stopping didn't ever end well.  But, other than my closest friends, I never talked about it.  I chalked it up to being moody and being in the depths of college and then starting my teaching career.

Here are the tricky parts of my mental illness and me:

1. I want to be this "normal" person who doesn't have this label attached to me.  Hence, wearing the masks.
2. Some days, some periods of times, I feel great (which is fantastic), but right when that happens, I think...I don't need anything.  I don't need meds, therapy, appointments.  My mind is a tricky thing.  My actions never result in positive outcomes.
3. Sometimes it's so incredibly hard to verbalize how I'm feeling, I just don't share it.  Holding it in is worse than just trying to talk about...which leads to...
4. For the longest time,  I didn't want to burden my friends/family with my problems or feelings, so I just didn't talk about it.  It took several friends (and several years) saying, "YOU DON'T BURDEN US" for me to break down the barriers and let them in.

I'm still struggling.  I think I'll always struggle.  Do I have faith and hope that one day this will be better controlled? Yes.  But I also think that it's going to take awhile for me to figure it out.  Like I said, it took a long time for me to even want to talk about this with my friends and family.

Things that help:

1. DOCTORS - this has been a HUGE struggle of mine.  Because I've moved to several cities over the past few years, finding doctors have sometimes been a headache.  Finding one that fits is hard.  Going through the initial talk and discussion about everything is frustrating sometimes, but it's so important to get this kind of help.
2. SUPPORT - my goodness...in the depths of my depression, the thought of my friends and family pull me out.  Their love and faith and support is unreal.  Pep talks, texts, phone calls, letters...they never, ever let me down.  I sometimes feel guilty and think that I'm too much - they're the ones waiting by the phone when I don't answer for 24 hours and they know I'm in a hole.  They're the ones who have to give me constant advice and love.  I think about the burden of it all.  But I'm realizing it's not a burden.  It's what they're there for.  I love them more than I could ever say - they have literally saved my life.
3. THERAPY - this goes along the lines of doctors.  It's hard to find the right one.  When you do, it's wonderful.  This is a struggle of mine to continue therapy, but it's a valuable tool.  I've been in and out of therapy for the past decade.
4. JOURNALING - this has helped me tremendously.  I write and write and think and jot down thoughts and ideas and poems, etc.

Regardless of what helps me, it might not help everyone.  I'm still not quite sure what triggers my emotions.  I struggled to write this.  It stayed in my draft box for over a week.  I asked several friends whether or not I should publish something that was so incredibly personal.  But owning this is my way of freeing myself from this struggle.  The stigma of mental illness is one that I see so much.  I think it's gotten better over the past several years, but people (myself included) don't like talking about it.  I spent years holding it in, being scared to admit what was wrong with me, scared of people thinking I was different because of it.  But they don't.  It's just like having any other illness.  You've got to take care of it and take care of yourself.  That's the bottom line.  It's okay.  It's okay.  It's okay. You are loved, loved, loved.  And it will get better.

Current Books and TV Shows: October Edition

I haven't done a book post in awhile.  I decided to add a few of my television indulgences as well!

Date: Monday, October 24th, 2016

Recent and Current Books: 

1. I just finished reading The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo by Amy Schumer and it is HIGH-larious!!!  I laughed during each chapter several times!!  I wouldn't necessarily recommend this to EVERYONE only because she drops the f-bomb quite a bit and is pretty vulgar at times, but if you know Amy Schumer that shouldn't be super surprising.  Definitely hilarious and worth the read if you're into slightly inappropriate, but hilarious memoirs.

(Source)

2. I also just finished The A to Z of You and Me by James Hannah.  My friend, Laura, and I are complete book addicts and bought this one on a whim at Target.  We both just finished it, so it was nice to be able to discuss it with someone.  The book was pretty good.  It wasn't AS good as I thought it would but, but I enjoyed it.  I really liked the setup.  The protagonist is in hospice and his nurse suggests that he plays the "A to Z" game.  He must associate a body part with every letter of the alphabet.  While he does this, he flashes back to different points in his life and tells his story that leads up to his illness.  The source link goes to a really good blog post discussing the book.

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3. ONE of the books I'm currently reading is titled The Swans of Fifth Avenue by Melanie Benjamin (I actually started this one back in July and got book ADHD).  I love historical novels and this is perfect.  It discusses Truman Capote's time with several of New York City's most famous socialites during the 60's and 70's.  Her descriptions are filled with imagery that allows the reader to feel like they are right there in the midst of all the drama.  I'm about a 1/3 of the way through the novel, but recommend it from what I've read so far.

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4. The book I'm actually reading at the moment is My Grandmother Told Me to Tell You She's Sorry by Fredrik Backman.  It was another "buy at Target on a whim" book.  I was drawn to the book because of the title and really like the book so far.  It's about Elsa and her Granny and their adventures.  There have been several sentences in the book that have made me tear up because they sound so much like the relationship I had with my Granny.  I'm eager to continue the book and see what adventures Elsa goes on that her grandmother tasks her with. 

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Current Netflix Show:

Again, technically am in the middle of a few, but the main ones:

1. "The X-Files" - the thing about this is I am not watching the show from start to finish, rather watching an episode here and there.  I don't watch the "mythology" episodes.  I stick to the "stand alone" episodes that explore different "mysteries" and what not.  I love the acting, symbolism, mystery, and overall atmosphere of the show.  Sci-fi mysteries are totally my guilty pleasure!!

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*This is the site I've been using to peruse my episode selection!

2. "Stranger Things" - because everyone else did, right?  I finished this about a month ago, and totally loved it!!.  Loved the 80's feel to it and the acting was really good.  The show had a lot of twists and turns.  Every episode left me hanging with a "what is going to happen next" feel!!  It has a Stephen King/sci-fi feel, and as I stated before those are my guilty pleasure shows.  

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3. "The 100" - Oh. Em. Gee. I just finished the third season.  Season 1 and 2 are on Netflix, but I purchased season 3 from Amazon Prime.  My cousins got me started on this, and I'm so glad they did!!  I devoured the first two seasons then tried to take it slow for the last season because it's not coming back on until next year!!  My cousin described it as a mix of Lord of the Flies meets "Lost" - and she was definitely right.  The show is set about 100 years after nuclear bombs wiped out most of the earth's population.  Spaceships were launched with people on them to save the next generations of humans.  Fast forward and there are some issues on "The Ark" that holds everyone.  They decide to send 100 teenagers who have been in juvenile detention to go down on earth to see if the ground is ready for people again.  The first season is about "the 100" discovering what earth is like currently and who was left there.  There's something for everyone.  Lots of drama and action, but some funny parts, too.  I love the characters, but it's one of those shows (like "Sons of Anarchy") that you can't get attached to any of the characters!!  It has a sci-fi feel to it (jeez, I have a type), but is well rounded in other areas.  

4. "Glee" - I watched most of "Glee" while it was on tv.  Recently, I've been watching an episode here and there.  I watch it mainly for the musical numbers, but watching it has reminded me of what a killer show it was!  I loved the characters and most of the stories (some of them got to be kind of silly to me) are good.  The first three seasons are my favorite.  I love the mix of humor, drama, and music.  Just a good show to watch here and there and enjoy!

Catching Up on Life!

I have been terrible with keeping up with my posts.  I always have so much to say, so much on my mind, so much to write...yet, I never actually go through with it and blog about it!

Here are the biggest things going on:

1. SCHOOL - I've been back at Freedom (my alma mater) for almost three months.  I've really been enjoying my time here.  The department is wonderful, the kids are (for the most part!) sweet, and it still smells the same!!  I'm actually teaching English I in the same classroom I was taught English 1!  It's been a full circle experience!!  FHS is about 1,000 students lighter than it was when I went here.  The class changes are much easier!  When I went here it was impossible to go from class to class without bumping and crawling along to each class!  Overall, I'm really happy with my move and pray that I continue to enjoy my time here.

2. BABIES - One of my best friends, Lindsey, is about 2 weeks out from having her first baby!!  I'm so thrilled for her and so excited to hold our newest GG baby.  We threw Linds and Baby K a shower in early September.  Linds isn't finding out the gender, so we went with a neutral "hot air balloon" theme.  Everything came together really well, and I think Linds enjoyed it!

I've also been able to spend a weekend here and there with my other "babies" - who aren't really babies anymore!!  I went up to my sister's house in TN last month and then Thad came and spent the night with me at the new house a few weeks ago.  We played legos, ate McDonalds, and watched tv - total auntie night!!

Last weekend, I was able to visit with Kelly, Casey, and their two kiddos, Brooks and Wyatt!  I always enjoy seeing the boys and it's been such a treat seeing them grow up!!

3. HOUSE - The biggest thing that's taken up my time is fixing up, going through, cleaning, and getting my grandmother's house ready to move in.  I've actually lived there for a month now.  It has been the most challenging, but rewarding adventure I've personally done in a long time.  In some way, shape, or form, all of my family has been there to help me get everything together.  My mom has been the biggest help.  She has cleaned, packed up and unpacked, redid floors, etc for almost two months now!!  I'm so thankful for all her help.  I'm also thankful for all of my family and friends who have helped me get everything together. I'm going to write a separate post detailing all we've done.  I pray that my grandmother would approve of all the changes and like them.  My cousin and I were saying last night that we wished we could've done some of this while she was alive so that she could've enjoyed it.  I hope she is watching over and protecting the house from above!

I will try to update more regularly.  I *think* things are starting to slow down a bit....maybe? Thanks for following along with me!

Wanted: Days of Yore

All at once tonight, in the midst of a good Facebook scroll, all the change in my life hit me like a huge truck and I couldn't figure out why or what was going on with my emotions.  Was it just the dust getting into my eyes that caused them to get a bit teary?  Was it just the exhaustion that a week full of go-go-go workdays hold?

No...no, I feared it was all stemming from that dirty word...change.

As I was doing my last Facebook skim for the evening, I noticed several of my Facebook friends (who are in education) were writing about their Open House night at the various schools they teach at.  Their statuses were indeed glorious, sweet posts about the general excitement this night brings.  Statuses brimming with smiles discussing seeing old students and how they're getting back into the swing of the life they have created at their school.  They wrote the post I would have written if I were still at one of my previous schools.

But...I'm not.

So, for the second year in a row, I will not be seeing my sweet former students who boost my confidence for the new year.  I will not be greeted by, "HEY MS. B!!" or "I MISSED YOU SO MUCH!!"  I had a good 5 year stretch of those sentiments.  Rather, tomorrow night, I will be greeted with new faces and see a hallway full of big kids with smiles, running to greet their former educators.

I don't know how this post sounds.  Maybe I sound bitter...I'm not.  Maybe I sound mopey...I'm not (okay, I am a bit).  I don't, BY ANY MEANS, want this to sound like I regret my decision or I'm not so, so excited to begin my journey within the halls of Freedom, I most definitely am.  I just miss those little things that working at a school for a number of years bring.  I have "mourned" my status as a veteran teacher within a school for the past two years.  It was hard last year and it's hard this year.

The thing is...life takes different directions.  I would've never guessed this time last year that I would be sitting in Morganton getting ready to begin my (hopefully long) tenure at Freedom.  The past several months have been the strangest ride so far in my life.

It just hits me sometimes.  How much I miss the "familiarity" that years of being at the same school brings.  But, I have to remember that this was exactly how it was my first year at Rockingham.  By the next year, I had kids coming back to see me.  I had developed more student-teacher relationships.  So, for now, I will just be a little jealous.  I'll be a little envious of the teachers tomorrow night who get those greetings and hellos at their doors.  I'll mourn the days of yore when that was me.  I'm guessing they'll be a few times that I get to missing my babies who really aren't babies anymore.  But I'll be okay.  I'll be ready to embrace this new journey and trust that in the end, it'll all be worth it.

#herewego

Happy Birthday, Granny

I pull up the crunchy rocks and park behind her black car.  I chuckle (as I do every time) when I see her "MAMABARR" license plate.  I walk up to her door and ring the little bell (even though I know she's home).  I like for her to hear me coming.

I walk into the kitchen, inhaling the air of her home, and shout, "Yoooo-hoooo!"  I hear her familiar laugh as she gets up off the couch and comes to into the kitchen with a big smile.

She greets me with a "Hey, Baby!"  I chuckle and fall into her arms that have known my embrace for all the years of my life.  She invites me into the living room and we sit and catch up.  She tells me what's been going on with the family, neighborhood, church, and town.  She asks me questions about what's going on in my life, and I fill her in on what's been happening in my "neck of the woods".

She asks me if I'm hungry (as if she can already read my mind).  I bashfully say, "Well, I could go for a grilled cheese." She smiles and obliges my request saying, "Come on in the kitchen and let me get one for you."  I smile as she places the sandwich on my plate...bite into the sandwich that I can never, no matter how hard or how many times I try, replicate.  It is as good as it always is.

She sits down and we continue to talk.  We talk about the future...we talk about the past...we talk about fears...we talk about worries...we talk about hopes...we talk about dreams. 

We sit and continue to converse for awhile.  I finally say, "Well, I better get going."  She replies with, "Why don't you just stay here!"  I laugh and tell her I really wish I could (and it is the truth...I wish I could just stay in the little, happy bubble she has created where all my worries seem to stop and pause).  I head for the door and we hug one more time (I'm not a huge hugger, but I relish in her's).  She tells me to be careful and to come back soon as she walks me out the door.  I assure her I will.  I reverse out the driveway and wave to her, smiling as I head down the road.

Today would be my grandmother's 83rd birthday.  I wish more than anything that the above scenario were possible.  I wish that I could call her or send her a card or just see her.  I know that the year after someone dies is the hardest.  I know all the "firsts" are difficult.  I foresee the holidays being tough for my family.  I have to have faith that she is happy and at peace.  I hold onto her memories like a tiny child holds onto their first favorite toy.

After she passed and everyone began the task of cleaning out her house, we found so many interesting things.  We found old letters, old books, old pictures, and other items.  I feel like I've learned all this new information about her.  I wish I could ask her about who that person in the picture was or why she purchased this and that.  I wish I could ask her about the letters we found from my grandfather as he was courting her.  I've also discovered the little things that we have in common.  Keeping a stockpile of cards and stationary.  Writing little poems for people (I also discovered my grandfather did the same).  So many little things and questions and thoughts that I wish I could share with her.

The thought of living in her house brings me mixed emotions.  In a way, it really means she's gone and not coming back.  Because of that, it is a little sad.  However, I'm also excited to continue her legacy of hospitality, good times, and good food.  She always welcomed everyone and had an open door policy.  All that to say it's just been very bittersweet.  I hope she approves of all the updates and things I've been doing and plan to do with her sweet little house that we all love so much.

Happy birthday, Granny.  I miss you more than words could say.  I hope, more than anything, you are having a giant piece of yellow layer cake with chocolate frosting up in heaven with a nice cup of coffee.  I love you...

A Little Look Back

I have been meaning to write and catch up on the summer and a few of the books I've enjoyed over the past few months, but haven't been able to gather my thoughts and sit down long enough to type.  I will get to those posts, but first....

I wanted to write today because as I was perusing my blog the other day, I realized that I wrote my very first post EIGHT YEARS AGO TODAY!  Where does the time go?

It was so weird to read that post.  Eight years ago, I was moving into my little apartment in Eden and starting my very first teaching job.  Since then, I've lived in 4 (going on 5) different places and cities and taught at 2 (going on 3) different schools.  OHHH WHAT I COULD TELL LITTLE COLEY.

I won't bore you with all the coulda woulda shouldas....but from reading that old post, I do see that I  have grown from that scared 22 year old to the slightly more "with it" 30 year old.  (PS - when you write out the numbers, it makes you really see your age...jjjjeeeeezzzzzz).

Here are 8 things I've learned in the past 8 years:

1. Even when life gets scary and hard, learning how to roll with the punches is a must.  There have been several times when I've been at my wit's end and I've had to let go of my insecurities, anxieties, and frustrations, and just go with the flow.  SIDE NOTE: this doesn't always mean I do this....
2. The time I have spent with family and friends is invaluable.  I will never ever take that time for granted.  These people....my people...have held me up, cushioned my falls, and pulled me into their arms when I felt that I was falling apart.
3. Teaching has produced some of the hardest times in the past eight years, but the lessons I have gained are so important to me.  I am thankful for all my time in the classroom even if it has resulted in several gray hairs.
4. I've learned that sometimes you need to turn off the computer and tv and just read or write.  This is actually something I want to get better at, but there's still some years to work on that.
5. Tiny humans have made my heart double...no, triple in size.  My sister's son, my best friends' sons, my cousin's daughters have all brought such light, joy, and love into my heart.
6. Pictures are phenomenal ways to document the memories you make in life, but at the same time...sometimes you have to just live in the moment (another thing I'm still working on).
7. TRAVEL - traveling has been one of the best things I've been forturnate enough to do.  I love visiting new places, sight seeing, people watching, trying new things, immersing myself in new places is something I hope I always get to do.  So many more places to go....
8. Life is short.  Enjoy it.

Here We Go Again...

2016 has been quite a year.  It's been a big year of unexpected change.  Lots of unplanned events that I didn't ask for, nor was prepared for.  However, with unexpected change comes opportunities for growth.

When my grandmother died almost 4 months ago, all of my family looked at each other and had this unspoken question of...well, what happens to our main homestead?  Granny's home was where everything took place: holidays, lunches, gatherings, etc.  I don't think any of us could fathom the thought of someone else living there.

In the midst of all this, we kind of wondered...what about Coley?  At first, I told them I didn't think it was a possibility.  I came up with this mental list: I didn't have a job in Morganton, I was happy in Winston, I already had a big "move" change last year, a house is a HUGE responsibility, yada, yada.

But the thought in my head wouldn't let go.

I, on a whim, texted a good friend of mine who also happens to teach within Burke County.  I simply asked her to keep her ears open and let me know whether she heard anything about a possible job opening at one of the schools.  Thinking she would reply with, "I'll keep them open!"  I kept my optimism on low.  I know that sounds bad, but I didn't want to get any hopes up (especially at that early stage).  However, within a couple minutes, she replied saying, "Actually, I think there might be one."  Say what?!  I couldn't help but feel like Granny was nudging me home.

Even with that response, I wasn't 100% sure.  The weeks that followed were really hard.  I was still dealing with the death of my grandmother, I was finishing my year of teaching, I wasn't sure I was ready to move again, I felt this calling to go back, I felt this calling to stay...bottom line....I was just kind of hanging out in this hellish limbo.

So, I did what I always do when I'm not sure, I prayed.  I tried my best to listen.  I talked to friends, I talked to family, and I talked some more to God.  I decided that I would send in my resume and an email to the two high schools I would like to teach at within Burke County.  If I heard something, wonderful, and if I didn't, I was happy staying where I was in Winston.

About a week after that, I got an email asking if I'd like to come in for an interview.  I said yes and went in.

The next month was the longest month of my life.  School systems still have to go through a lengthy hiring process, so even though I interviewed, and even though I thought it went well, I knew I wouldn't knew anything FOR SURE for awhile.

Not to sound dramatic, but, IT WAS AWFUL.

I didn't know what to do.  I didn't know what to hope for.  I began to doubt EVERYTHING.  I didn't know if this was maybe a sign to stay or maybe just to forget the whole thing... I ended my year at Tabor and still didn't know what the following school year would hold.  I couldn't say anything to anyone because again, I didn't know.

I'll save you the melancholy Coley blabber.  I will say that doubt is an anxiety-ridden person's worst enemy...and ole doubt was creeping into every crevice of my life.

Anywho, about two weeks ago, I was sitting at my sister's house and got THE call.  THE call I had been waiting for...I was officially offered the job at my alma mater, Freedom High School.  And even with that call, I was still a ball of emotions!  As all of it has settled a bit, I am back on the excited track.

I know a lot of this pain and confusion was related to Granny.  I know a lot of it was related to my mixed emotions about leaving Tabor and Winston.  When I left Rockingham, I knew it was time to move on.  I knew I had "run my course" there and was ready to see what else there was "out there".  But, only being at Tabor a year, there were a TON of mixed emotions!  I truly enjoyed teaching there.  I learned so so so so much from my colleagues and students.  It's an incredible place.

 There's still a lot of "technical" stuff to work out (hence why I haven't posted or said anything on social media).  I am excited though.  It means being closer to my family and working at the place that first made me want to be a high school teacher!

All this to say, this was an incredibly hard decision, BUT...at the end of the day, the BIGGEST thing that has kept me from ditching the whole idea is the peace that living in Granny's house brings me. And I will never be able to argue with that.

As the great Dr. Meredith Grey once said:

"When we follow our hearts, when we choose not to settle, it's funny isn't it?  A weight lifts.  The sun shines a little brighter and for a brief moment at least, we find a little peace."

End of Year 8

My Timehop showed me that I wrote my "Goodbye to Rockingham" post a year ago today.  It's crazy to think that one year ago I was leaving Rockingham and getting ready for a new adventure at a brand new school.  It's even harder (for me) to believe that it's the end of my first year at that new school.  Oh what a year it has been!

It was a terribly hard decision for me to leave Rockingham.  It was the first (and only) school I taught at.  It was where I first cut my teaching teeth.  So many wonderful colleagues and students who taught me incredible lessons.  Truth be told, as wonderful as my colleagues were, my students were the reason I couldn't leave there.  Every year I would tell myself that THIS was the year I could leave.  THIS is the year it will be okay to venture out away from RCHS.  But, it took eight years, hundreds of students, and a lot of praying later...I finally decided it was okay to leave.  Bonus that I had an incredible opportunity to teach at Mt. Tabor High School in Winston Salem.

Fast forward a year.  I sit in my empty classroom at Tabor and marvel that somehow I've made it through to the other side.  I knew that it would be difficult to transition to a new school.  I knew it would be hard to figure out my place.  A place where I had only visited a few times.  A place that held so, so, so many new faces.  But, I made it.

This year has felt, at times, like I was pushed (or shoved) back to year one of teaching.  The feeling of not knowing, not having a place, not having any status, not knowing any students, and not knowing if this teaching gig was right for me.  I was climbing the mountain all over again...a mountain that I thought I had made pretty good progress on.

My first semester of classes presented several challenges.  The makeup of Tabor is more city-based, where as Rockingham was a rural county.  I was teaching a grade level I hadn't taught in a few years.  I broke up fights in my classroom.  I had students who spoke languages I had never heard of.  I had students who were so needy.  I had students who I wanted to wrap up and take home with me. Tell them it would be okay, that the world wasn't the shitty place they had grown to believe it was.  I figured out that some of my students were not used to structure, and even though they protested, I think they found that they needed it.  I learned that I needed to go back to the basics.  I learned that some of my students felt school was their "safe place".  But, I also had students who had a HUGE chip on their shoulder.  I faced apathy, anger, frustration, and rudeness from many students.  There were days that I sat at my desk in the afternoon, head in hands, and thought, "What have I done?" I was positive that at any point, my principal would come in and say, "Um, I think I've made a mistake."

At some point, I got my footing and figured out how to better help my students.  I thanked God every single night that I was teaching with two of my best friends.  I could not have made it this year without them.  They encouraged me, had pep talks with me, taught me new skills, and held out their arms in support when I broke down.

I don't have a single regret about this move.  It was the right time to move.  I needed this change, this shake up, this new adventure.  I have learned more this year than the last half of my years of teaching put together.  I have learned to let certain things go, while holding onto others.  I've met so many incredible educators.  I've had the privilege of working for an AMAZING set of administrators.

I know this is where God wanted me to be this year.  When Granny got sick and I needed to be there, being an hour closer to home was wonderful.  Only being an hour away from her hospital towards the end was a blessing.  And when she was called home, having my friends and department take care of everything was just the biggest blessing ever.

I sit here at my desk looking at my empty desks.  I'm thinking about the 150 some students who filled them.  Some of them made me want to pull out my hair.  Some of them turned some of my other hair gray.  Some of them made me question why I became a teacher.  And some of them showed me why.  No regrets.

I leave this year with so many ideas.  New lessons in mind.  New thoughts on how to be a better teacher.  So many lessons learned.  So many mistakes to correct.  So many memories - good and bad.

I missed Rockingham County High School so much this year.  There were times I'd be lying if I didn't say I wondered what it would have been like if I'd just stayed there in the comfortable routine I'd become accustomed to.  It is a place that will forever be seared on my heart.  But I know it was the right time to leave.  I know that Tabor is where God wanted me to be.

As I close year 8, I anticipate (both with excitement and anxiety) the future years.  Still so many lessons to teach and so many students to meet.

8 down...22 more to go.

Teacher Appreciation

This is actually part of a post I wrote several years ago.  I wanted to add to it and spruce it up a little in honor of National Teacher Appreciation Week.  If you know a teacher, thank him/her.  If you love a teacher (or live with one), bless your heart - you probably have to live with the crazy.  Here is part of the original post, but with a bit of an update/change here and there.

In honor of those who taught me, loved me, and put up with me....

Teachers are some of the most important people who have passed through my life.  When you stop and think about it, students spend more time with their teachers than they do with their family on any given day.  My teachers had a crucial role in shaping the person that I am today.  I still count many of my past teachers as my confidants, mentors, and role models today.  Sometimes, I don't think teachers realize the immense impact they have on their students' lives.

I wonder...

Does Mrs. Hairfield know that I still remember her "Pound Puppy" curtains and the way she made me feel calm after I got lost on my first day of kindergarten?  Does she know she was the one who first taught me to love learning and to share with others?  Two of the most important things ever...and two things I still value (and need) today.

Does Mrs. Rhodes know that she is one of the reasons I became a teacher?  I still remember her signing her letters with x's and o's and because of that, I have always remembered her sweet kindness.  Does she know I still sing "Up on the Rooftop" at Christmas and always think of her?  Her classroom is one that always lingers in my memory.  It was so warm, inviting, and cozy.  She always did and still does make me feel so special and loved.

Does Ms. Boughman know that I still remember writing a creative story and her reading it out loud?  I felt so proud because she thought it was that good.  She is one of the reasons I love to write creatively today.

Does Miss Ennis know that I still consider her one of my life role models?  That because she was so kind to me and let me help her everyday after school, it made me want to become a teacher myself?  I still remember her reading to us and letting me help her decorate her room for Christmas.  She made a very awkward and shy girl feel so loved and valued.  Her smile, kindness, and incredibly beautiful writing continues to stay with me.

Does Mrs. Lawson know that she made me realize teachers could teach new things, but also have a divine sense of humor?  That my favorite days in her class were the afternoons we would push all the desks to the side and sit in a big circle and sing silly songs?

Does Mrs. Causby, Mrs. Pieto, Ms. New, Mrs. Evans, and Mrs. Hodges know that they helped me get through those incredibly awkward middle school years and make them bearable?  Their love and wisdom were always guiding lights during the beginning of hard school years.

When I think of high school, I think of these three women.  They shaped me more than I could ever write in a million posts.  I kid you not, when I think about all they have done to impact my life, it brings tears to my eyes.  They are the reason I teach high school, and they are the reason I truly care and value what I do for students.

Does Mrs. Hasty know that I think of her every single time a student comes to me with a problem, and I feel like I can honestly be there for them?  That she taught me teaching is a job where you can really be there for your students and show them that you care.  She made me feel so loved and appreciated.  She loved me when I didn't love myself.  She took the risk of calling me out when she saw something wrong with me and knew I trusted her enough to do that.  I might not remember every Spanish verb she taught me, but I remember that she gave me "snacky-poos" in the afternoon while helping her, made me laugh, and made me feel like I was an important person.

Does Mrs. Vaughn know that I still look at and read the prayer she emailed me my first day of teaching?  That I still think she is one of the smartest and wisest women I have ever met?  That I feel so fortunate she was the one who taught my teacher cadet class?  Her love for her students, her kind words, and her genuine compassion for her career made the biggest impression on me.  When I was heartbroken over not getting Teaching Fellows, her letter gave me the words of love and wisdom I needed to hear.  She is truly, truly one of the most remarkable educators I have ever met...I feel SO blessed to have been in her class.

And my dear, sweet Mrs. McKinney.  My life mentor and friend.  The woman who pretty much got me where I am in teaching today.  Does she know that I shape my lessons after her?  I know I can be funny and serious all in one classroom?  That her having me read The Awakening led to my own "awakening" in realizing I wanted to be an English teacher?  That she still shapes my life, and I still look to her for advice, help, love, and support?  She will always be someone I call on to ask for any and everything.  I know that she will always be there for me...through good times and rough times.

All these women hold a piece a piece of my heart.  They all shaped me and helped form the person and teacher I am today.  When I walk into my classroom, I carry a piece of them with me.  They helped me realize that it's not just about the curriculum, but really caring about the students in your classroom.  I learned to read, write, add, count, look, share, be a good person, and appreciate everything around me.  They are some of the best people I know.

Many of these women are still in the classroom and if I'm honest, I'm a little jealous of their students.  They are some lucky individuals.  My hope is that I am an iota of the teacher they were to me.  I still feel blessed by their role in my life, and I hope they know how much I appreciate them.  I will forever be indebted to the love and wisdom they bestowed upon me.  And a kudos to the other teachers in my life: my past and current colleagues, my first teacher...my momma and my best friends who teach.  I have learned from all of you.

Everyone needs a good teacher in their life.  I'm so glad I have had so many amazing ones!

A Letter

As I wrap up the last few weeks in my 20's, I've been thinking a lot about what I've learned these past 10 years.  What I would change.  What I enjoyed.  What I wish I had known.  What follows is a letter to the younger version of myself.  Now to find a time machine to actually give it to that girl.

Dear 20 year old Coley,

Ah, youth.  You're so young, but you feel like you're not.  You feel lost and confused and not sure where your life is going.  You know that you want to teach.  You are feeling slightly more confidant in your college career...a lot better than this time last year.  It will take another semester for you to really like it.  You're going to live with Em and Carrie next year and you will finally, finally love where you live during college.

This past year was hard.  The last couple of years in your teens were really hard.  Losing yourself.  Trying to find yourself again.  Learning how to swim in the dark waters of depression and anxiety.  Losing your cousin.  Seeing your family grapple with that loss.  It was hard.  It's still hard.  But, coming from the other side of this decade, you get through it.  You learn to cope.  You learn what you need to help you.  I wish you had known that sooner.

Your 20's are going to be full of ups and downs and all arounds.  Sometimes it'll feel like you're on a rollercoaster that doesn't stop.  You'll feel those nerves as it climbs the hill and the deep fear as it reaches and goes over.  You'll graduate from college and have your heart set on moving back home.  This won't happen.  And your heart will be sad.  But, don't freeze up.  Listen to the sage of the people around you.  Don't be afraid to venture out.  There will be people who come into your life and change it forever...and that never would have happened if you didn't take a chance on moving to some tiny town you had never heard of.

Teaching.  Man, what a crazy ride.  You'll love it, truly.  However, it might take you some time to get to that point of love.  And that. is. okay.  Do you hear me?  You DO. NOT. HAVE. TO. BE. PERFECT.  I can tell you (my past self) and me (my present self) this til I'm blue in the face and ultimately, I don't think I will listen, but it is true.  You can only be yourself.  That's all.  Please, please learn that doing that is enough.

Listen (please), don't be too hard on yourself.  Treat your body with more care.  Learn to exercise and enjoy it.  I wish that I could tell you we are at our "goal size", we're not.  However, that is one thing I wish I could go back and change.  Learning to love YOU will take years...I don't think even I'm there yet.  I hope if I write a letter to my 30 year old self, that will actually be a reality.

Enjoy this life.  Enjoy traveling every chance you get.  It'll eat up your bank account, but you're going to see some cool places.  Take your passport to Mexico.  Splash in the ocean.  Jump in the deep end.  Don't worry about what people think.  Take lots of pictures (and don't wait so long to put them in albums).  Do things that scare you.  Those times make the best memories.  Stay up late walking through San Francisco.  Take in the sights of New York City.  Breathe in the salty air of the coast.  Step back and enjoy this beautiful world that God has made.

Your friends will be your lifeline.  They will pick you and your broken pieces up off the floor so many times.  They will hold you when you're falling apart.  They will cheer you up when you feel so down.  They will be the ones who convince you that life is joyous and full of laughter.  You will be in their weddings and hold their babies.  You will laugh and cry and smile and share a huge mix of emotions.  Enjoy every second with them.  And when you go to Nashville, please try to enjoy it.  It's going to be hot.  And y'all will get on each other's nerves, but it'll be okay.  The stories you tell later will make you all laugh.

Here's something I want you to do.  Go visit Granny every single chance you get.  Call her, visit her, talk to her, hug her, and just be there with her.  You think right now she is invincible, and I know it seems that way.  You'll learn that she isn't.  The pain that comes with that realization is terrible.  It will hurt you and break your heart in a million pieces.  Just be there.  Hold her hands and watch her cook.  Rest your head on her shoulder and ask her to tell you stories.  Just take her in and love her and soak her up in every morsel of your memory.

Your family will have lots of surprises.  Most are lovely, happy, sweet surprises that will open your heart up in ways you never knew.  Know that life holds lots of changes, but change is good.  Change is how you know you and those around you are alive.  Enjoy every holiday, every Sunday lunch, every chance you get to visit and talk with Megan.  She is going to give you the best gift ever when she gives birth to Thaddeus.  He is this bright, beaming light in your life.

Life goes on.  Don't worry so much about what other people think, but rather think about what makes you happy.  There will be lots of moves and upsets, but you'll learn and grow from each.  Laugh with your friends.  Talk to your family.  Ask lots of questions.  Try to learn from each student you teach.  Be present in the moment.

With love,
An ALMOST 30 year old Coley

Grappling with Grief: Entry from my Journal

This is an entry from my personal journal I wrote a couple nights ago.  I think it accurately paints the picture of my grief right now.  Usually, I don't post things of this personal nature (entries from journals and such), but I feel that it's therapeutic to get it out there and might also be how other people feel after losing someone.  Maybe they can help me with my grief, or I can at least make them feel not alone.

Saturday, March 25th, 2016

"It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.'  I do not agree.  The wounds remain.  In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens.  But it is never gone." -Rose Kennedy

I sit here in the silence of Granny's house, but her memories echo all around me.  Everywhere I look, I see a piece of her.  This longing, this pain, this realization she's not coming back is beginning to be deafening.

I talked to Leah for  long time tonight.  We both miss her so much (as does the entire family).  However, Leah and I have grieved in different ways.  Her's has been a steady sadness, tears everyday.  Mine has been halted - a dam of stone built, though sadness, guilt, grief, anger, and such continue to rush against it, the levee hasn't broken yet.   It has been built with feelings of anxiety and fear over future decisions.  Leah reminded me tonight that before anything can happen, I must deal with and face those emotions rushing against the barricade.

Granny is woven into me.  Going through some of her things - the woman kept everything - reminds me of my stashes.  My refusal to throw away sentimental objects.  The way I think, the way I want to be, my acts, everything that I do is because who she was.

Even though I love being here surrounded by her things, it's hard to see all her memories.  Her shoes are left where she last put them on (stockings inside).  Her notes, her magazines - tabs marked with recipes and ideas - , her photos, her clothes, everything shows me a fresh memory.

I know that eventually the scar tissue will cover these new wounds, but right now...in this moment...they ache with a painful freshness that I can't bear.

My Granny

Granny’s Eulogy

Wednesday, March 23rd, 2016

My grandmother was an incredible storyteller.  So, let me tell you a little story about her life.  Sybil Anne Prestwood was born on August 4th, 1933.  The doctor came to her parent’s house and slept on the couch all day while my great-grandmother, Fern, labored with her first (and only) child.  After many hours, a beautiful baby girl was born.  She lived a simple, country life.  Enjoying school and acquiring many friends along the way.  She grew into a beautiful woman and began working at the hosiery mill in Morganton.  It was during one of their square dances that Carl Barrier caught her eye.  They began a sweet romance that resulted in a quiet ceremony one day in late November.  A couple years later, they welcome their first son, my father, Michael Dale.   He was followed by two more sons, Timothy Brian and Jeffrey Carl.  The entire family grew up on one block.  Family meals, Saturday suppers, church, lots of playing, and trips filled the following years.  The boys eventually married and welcomed children of their own.  It would be on the same date as their wedding anniversary in November of 1988 that her beloved husband passed away.  In a beautiful twist of fate, two years later, on that same day, their third granddaughter, Megan, would be born.  Life from then on was filled with her work, grandchildren’s visits, taking care of others, church, friends, and sweet memories to fill many books.

My grandmother was the best person I’ve ever known.  My cousin, Katy, and I were talking the other day about how we felt like Granny was just the most perfect example of a Godly, kind, welcoming, incredible person.  She loved with her entire heart.  She gave with everything she had.  She was simply, the best.

My cousins, sister, and I have shared lots of memories and laughs over the past few days in conversations about our dear Granny and I’m up speaking on their behalf.  We loved our Granny more than you could ever possibly imagine.  When I asked them what memories they wanted to make sure I included, our list kept on going and going.

We want you to know how she sang to us...seriously the woman had a song for every occasion...she fed us...so much...butter sandwiches, gravy biscuits, Sunday lunches, birthday cakes, cinnamon toast, cereal, coke floats, and orange sherbet drinks,  anything we ever wanted, and even if we looked full, she would ask if we wanted more.  Her house was the one we stayed at most Saturday nights growing up.  She would make us a pallet on the floor, or turn down our beds (complete with heated blankets), sing us songs, and tell us stories.  We have memories of laying on her floor and watch VHS tapes.  We played every made up game imaginable in her back bedrooms and outside her house.  She took us shopping and didn’t get too terribly mad when I set off her alarm in her new car (I promise I was just testing out the buttons for Leah).  She promised us that a little Vaseline would cure any ailment and “it’ll all come out in the wash”, “know what I mean, Vern?”  

I think though, the thing we loved most about her was that she loved us no matter what.  Truly.  I remember getting my first speeding ticket and going to her house before my parents.  I was sobbing and she later told me she thought I had killed someone I was so upset, but she calmed me down and assured me it would be okay.  She welcomed all of our friends, feeding them and telling them to come back soon.  She opened her arms to the spouses of my cousins and sister.  She loved them and treated them just as special as she did us.  And it was truly a treat getting to see her love on her great grandchildren.  Seeing Stevie, Journi, Thad, and Saylir play with the same toys and reading the same books on the same floor we did was just the best.

As big as Granny’s heart was, her faith was even bigger.  We had many conversations about God, faith, and the Bible.  She knew all the stories, people, and verses.  We knew her big blue bible was worn thin from so many pages being turned over and over again.  We all remember her sitting at the kitchen table each night reading over those worn pages. I recently learned that before my cousin left for California, Granny gave her that Bible. I held back tears when Leah told me that because that embodies who Granny was. Giving her love and faith to those she cherished.  Her steadfast love and faith always helped our family through anything.

It’s that same faith that has helped us get through the past few days.  Knowing that she is finally reunited with her husband, our Poppy, and her beloved parents, we just know that she is smiling and dancing and probably singing a song.  

I know that we’ll miss her more than words could ever say.  Her love was what held us together.  I never knew how intricately woven she was into my life until recently.  Every song, every show, every memory somehow revolves around her.

I pray that I can show her faith and her love through my life.  I pray that my dad and uncles see how her love touched all those around her.  I pray that my sister and cousins are able to show her spirit and her indomitable faith throughout their lives.  

Selfishly, I want her back with me.  I want to pick up the phone and hear her say, “Hey baby!” one more time, but I know she’s so happy to be without pain.  Without labored breathing and tubes and machines.  We love you so very much, Granny.  Go swing on those stars and catch those moonbeams in a jar.  You’ll be with us in our spirit, our actions, our memories, and our hearts...forever.

Climbing the Mountain

Disclaimer: I have never climbed a mountain...I kind of doubt that I ever will.  This is just a mere comparison, so I hope I don't offend anyone who has climbed a mountain - I'm sure it's way more intense.  Really, this is my anxiety kicking in and don't want to offend anyone.


As many English majors do, I tend to make comparisons/analogies to help explain my feelings and current state of being/mind.  As I was testing a group of kids the other day, I realized that teaching is kind of like climbing a really big mountain.

Let me explain.

At the peak of this glorious, beautiful mountain is a spot of beauty called "Retirement" and "The Land of Grateful, Well-Taught Students".  It takes many years to reach this important milestone and the journey is long, hard, and treacherous.  I think I might have frostbite.

For seven years, I was climbing the mountain pretty steadily.  A rough wind here, some rain there, but overall, making good progress.  I even hit some awesome posts.  Taught an AP class, worked as department chair and county lead teacher for English, sponsored a club, and attended wonderful conference/workshops.  The views were breathtaking and there were even a few moments where I felt "on top of the world".

But, as I was traveling up the mountain, I got a little too comfortable with the trek.  I kept on pondering, "Is there another route that might challenge me in a different way?"  Ever the anxious traveller, I pushed these thoughts aside for a few years and continued my journey on the path I knew well.

I came to a standstill.  Two routes were suddenly displayed.  One, my current path, was what I was comfortable with and knew.  The other was a new.  One that looked more challenging.  There would be many more obstacles if I chose that one, but the view would be new...and maybe even more rewarding.

I was surprised when my mind didn't hesitate to head toward the new path.  I was shocked that I was so confident in this decision.  Part of me wanted to say, "Stop!  That looks way too different and harder!  Why don't we just stay on this path that we know, this path that offers comfort and stability?"

Alas, I chose the new trek.  And, in the beginning, it was nice.  New views, new people greeted me on the way, offering their hands in support.  A few branches here and there to avoid, but overall, I thought, "Ok, this is going to be good!"

Then I hit a snag.  While traveling up the mountain this semester, I seemed to have hit some rough patches.  It seemed as though all the progress I had made over the past years had been erased.  I was suddenly pushed off the mountain and thrust back to where I started on the path.

Year one.  All over again.

All the sudden, the path was filled with new obstacles, unfamiliar territory, and a path that wasn't so clear.  It was frustrating to feel like all my previous work from the past 7 years would have to be re-established and refreshed.

At different points during last semester, I wanted off the mountain all together.  I was so frustrated that I couldn't navigate this route as well as I used to.  I was angry at myself and felt like I wasn't cut out for this profession.  Teaching is a job that, for some, really messes with your self esteem.  A lot of teachers are able to overcome this and not be bothered by it, but for someone like me, who has anxiety issues and the confidence of a fish in a sea of sharks...it can be rough.

Nonetheless, I trudged on.  I would not turn back and be defeated.  There were times where I felt like I was simply crawling up the mountain.  Knees skinned, hands raw, feet blistered...but I continued on.  You have to.

Luckily for me, I had an entourage of supporters at school, friends, and family who bandaged my wounds, lifted me up when I fell, and encouraged me to go on.

I know this sounds dramatic, and I want to assure you that it really has nothing to do with my school, my colleagues, my administration, or the students I taught.  My journey was tough because I wasn't sure of how to climb this new trail.  I didn't know where to go...and sometimes I was afraid to ask for help...or too proud.

Here's the thing...obviously I'm no where near the top.  I'm still struggling on this path I'm on.  But at the end of the semester, I felt like I had conquered something really big.  I completed a path that wasn't "the easy route".  I went out of my comfort zone and tried new things.  It was hard and scary and frustrating, but I did it.

I know that this path will continue to have bumps and rough patches.  I think it would have even if I had stayed at my old school.  The state of education (especially in NC) is a rough mountain to be on no matter where your path is.  But we mountain climbers (teachers, administrators, assistants, etc) trudge on and continue to climb.  We know that the students we help bolster on their own journeys make ours worthwhile.  When we help a kid reach their potential, cross their finish lines, reach the peaks of their mountains...it makes our steep climb worth it.

So I will keep on climbing.