It has been an Aaron Neville kind of day … a wish I could be alone kind of day… a too bad it’s sunny ’cause I wish I could sit by the fire and read kind of day … hoping tomorrow is more of a Neil Dimond kind of day.
Archive for August, 2007
Today, Isaiah bought a pair of checkerboard Vans. Can I tell you how much I love that? For I too, had a pair, when I was HIS age. The coolest thing is, they are MY size. So, if you see me walking around in checkerboard Vans, know that they are Isaiah’s and I am just reliving a little bit of my school days!
“Dear Lord, thank you so much for giving me a Mommy and Daddy who love me so much. And they love me SO much because they let me have a real fish. I love you Jesus, Amen.”
When I was a very little girl, we lived in rural western Washington, in a town called Covington, on a lake called Lake Morton. We had a beatiful house with huge cathederal windows facing the lake. It was a great place to swim, fish, take the row boat out. Down near the shore of this lake, we had a really big tree that a bald eagle had a nest in. At the time, bald eagle’s were rarely seen, so it was very unusual. At the base of the tree, the roots curved and made a sort of bench, nestled in amongst some very soft pussy willows. I deemed this place my thinking spot. Anytime I wanted to be alone, to think, or to read, I would head out to my thinking spot. A sort of place to get centered. I have been feeling disconnected lately, and have decided that maybe what I need is a new thinking spot. Not sure where that spot will be, since we don’t have any trees, or a lake, and I share my space with six others, but I will be on the look out.
So i walked to the bus stop to wait for the kids, and emily never got off the bus. asked our neighbor if she saw her, and nope, she never got on her bus. the problems began yesterday, you see, we never received a card in the mail telling us what bus she would take home from central. she went to the office, and they helped her onto the right bus, actually they shuffled her on, and she never looked at the bus number, that bus takes her to the high school where she changes to a different bus to come home. i was already irritated with this scinario, not sure why they can’t just bring her straight home, since that is what she does in the morning, but anyway…. i still did not have a phone call, or emily at 4:30pm. she gets out of school at 3:08pm. i called the dept. of trans. aka the bus barn, and guess what, yes, a recording, they closed at 3:00pm. i spat out an angry message and hung up. steve was already on his way over to central to find out where she was, and then she walked thru the door. apparently she went to the office for help finding her bus, they once again shuffled her onto a bus going to the high school (i guess several of the busses go there from central), and the bus she was on broke down, for about 45 minutes, so they missed their connections at the high school. her bus driver called the bus barn, and told them that she had emily, and that she would bring her home, BUT that would only be effective if THEY ANSWERED THEIR PHONES. i am livid, and am trying real hard to calm down… before i let them have it in the morning….
okay, i confess… it is 9:00pm, and my kids are just straggling to bed, trying to find books to read, giving me papers to sign, trying on outfits for the morning, etc. i think it will take us a while to get back into the nightly routine!
I was reflecting back over the years to teachers I have had, and one’s the kids have had. Thinking about what made them good teachers, poor teachers, really incredible teachers. It seems to me, that the teachers that are the most effective are the ones that don’t yell, belittle, use negative reinforcement. It is the teachers, in fact, that hardly raise their voice above a whisper that seem to capture attention with the most influence. Kids sit with rapt alertness to seize the next jewel murmured.
Why is it then, that we expect God to wail at us? If the way we learn best is by mere whispers, why wouldn’t we suppose He knows that?
I think it is entirely within the realm of possibility, that if we stop looking for the flashing neon lights, stopped waiting for the theme music, then maybe, just maybe, we would come to know more than we ever envisioned.