Happy birthday to my daughter

One of the fun things about having children is that now you have a chance for a mega do-over. You get to re-live your life through a whole new person. One that will not make your mistakes (Sun-in does not make your hair blond, people. It makes it orange.), or your unfortunate choices (I can walk on this ice. It's probably not even slippery). The slate is clean. The future is bright.

Well, this is partly true. The slate IS clean. The future IS bright. And it is full of exhilarating possibilities.

As I held my firstborn, I knew that she would make her own mistakes and her own poor choices. We all do. One doesn't learn to walk without falling. And falling again. And again.

Who would she be, this tiny person that was both Steve and me and all her own self? I thought of the years unfurling before us like bright ribbons.



Who could anticipate a blond tornado toddler that filled our home with purple dinosaurs and Fisher Price cooking utensils? Or a second grader who sang “Let There Be Peace On Earth” at the Martin Luther King breakfast before 300 people. Or the pre-teen who volunteered hours walking the dogs at PetsMart, dragging me and little brother along.

Who knew a karate class the summer of her 12th year would result in a passion that sustained her until young adulthood. Other mothers and daughters enjoyed weekend shopping trips. We traveled to other states to kick butt. My little girl became state Taekwondo Champ two years running.

Naturally we had our share of bumps. Perfect hearing only came after seven ear surgeries, the last of which knocked her out of her first and only ballet class. Some auditions weren't won. Many tournaments (especially the first years) were disappointing. And (don't tell PetsMart), but at least one dog broke free from us in the parking lot, leading us on a merry chase.

That's life. Those are the things that make a resilient, strong, intelligent young woman.

We have a picture on our piano of Mindy in a purple dress, damp hair in a long braid, sitting on the chancel steps at church following her baptism. It was Easter Sunday and there are lilies in the background. I love that picture.

I also love these pictures, taken so many years apart. So many memories and such joy in the years between.

Happy Birthday, Mindy!

What's next? I guess I'll have to wait and see.

Talent and whimsy abound at the Francisco's Farm Arts Festival, in Midway, Kentucky.

A walk in the park

My long awaited first day off work for the summer finally arrived.

I slept through my early morning yoga class, breaking my vacation resolution less than 24 hours into it. No worries. I decided to head to the Arboretum and do the two mile trek. I hadn't visited the park since last summer. I grabbed my camera and my ever present coffee thermos.

On my way to the Arboretum the sky clouded over so much that I considered heading back home. I persevered and was so glad I did. The rain held off and it was an absolutely wonderful day.


The parking lot was busy. I pulled into a spot and decided to listen to the very last of my audio CD before hitting the path. If you've read The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, you might have been as dumbfounded as I was at the ending. But that's a post for another day.

Still thinking about the book, I left the car and started walking.

Once on the trail I retrieved my phone to check for messages. I could see that an incoming message had been rejected. My phone storage was full. That's what the phone said - I didn't believe it. It tells me that every now and then and I'm still convinced it is lying to me.

I removed the sim card from the phone, blew on it and put it back. (I'm technologically savvy that way). Still nothing. Trying to remember what the man at the Verizon store told me to do when this happens, I started pushing buttons, accidentally deleting my entire contact list. Bummer.

Maybe there is a lesson here, I thought. Enough with the multi-tasking. I put my phone away.

I passed a woman with three identical dogs trotting along in perfect harmony. I was pretty impressed. (Put a leash on my dog and she becomes a 13 pound mule in a white fur coat, her feet braced in front and her rear digging into the ground).

People were enjoying their morning walking with friends or pushing strollers. Many people, like me, were strolling alone. I saw one man with a couple of kids. He was texting on his phone. I wanted to warn him that he might lose his memory, but managed to restrain myself.

The variety of flowers was amazing and the sun slanted through the trees onto the path. I stopped thinking about the phone and just enjoyed the morning. The park is truly a treasure and I am thankful for it.

I am also thankful for the young man at the Verizon store who was able to retrieve my contact list later that day!

When change is circling

If hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, change must be the thing with talons that plucks you from your comfortable rut and carries you away. Or maybe that's just me in my present state of mind. My present, pink-slipped, state of mind.

The talon analogy lurked when I was reading the monthly Site Based Council report for my school and saw that my position was being eliminated. Say what? So, the rumors I had been hearing were true.

I approached my principal who confirmed the news. Since she was more upset than I was, I could hardly be angry at her. Anyway, I know she doesn't make those decisions on her own. If there is no money, then there is no money. There was good news, though. Turns out I'm tenured. Who knew? Now I didn't have to worry about finding a new job. I just had to worry about where it might be.

As I sat in the principals office I recalled being on the other side of these situations when such a person joined the staff. The conversations usually went something like this...

"You know what it means. It means they didn't want her, but they couldn't fire her. She's tenured". So we have to take her.”

"I'm going to be one of those people," I said to my principal (unable to remember the correct title). "One of those people that no one really wants."

"You'll be an involuntary transfer," she said, helpfully.

"Yes. That."

The thing with talons was circling.

As someone who lived for several months with an owl in my freezer, I claim to know something about talons. It wasn't a cute little screech owl either, but a great horned owl, measuring about 18 inches tall.

In fact, I not only had one really big bird, but another small bird nestled among the Popsicles. That's why the owl was interesting, according to my husband. It had a small starling clutched in its right talon. The owl and starling were found in the snow, both perfectly intact.

Apparently the owl had swooped down on its prey, grabbed it, flew with it to an overhead wire, somehow electrocuted itself, and fell to the ground still clutching its last, uneaten, meal. Someone (I forget who) knew my husband was the president of the local Audubon group and thought he might be interested in such a perfect example of the Ornithological food chain. Of course, he was.

And so, for a while, every time I put away the ice cream or frozen ground beef I had to work around a large brown bag, containing a large plastic bag, containing a large bird clutching a small bird. I thought this earned me several points in the good wife category until I mentioned it to a friend who told me she had a deer head in her freezer. I figured she won that one.

The conversation with the principal was over a month ago. I have learned my placement is in a newly renovated building with a wonderful staff. I have been told this by several people who would know, and I believe them.

But still, I'll miss my old school. I'll miss seeing the faces I've grown accustomed to and walking the halls I know by heart. I liked its close proximity to my yoga studio and favorite coffee shop. I won't see last year's little sixth graders through to the end of their eighth grade year. They change so much.

And yet,there is a sense of adventure in experiencing a different job (or a different city, or a different home). New people to meet, new skills to learn and a bright new place in which to do it. There will be incoming sixth graders at this school, and I'll see them grow.

So maybe this is a good thing. Not hard, stiff talons like my frozen feathered friend, but a real breathing spirit of change. Maybe it's like the song:

And He will raise you up on eagles' wings,
bear you on the breath of dawn,
make you to shine like the sun,
and hold you in the palm of His hand.

Maybe it's good to embrace change. At least sometimes.