Joy in the journey of a teacher…

Today is the end of the school year for a number of people that I know.  Most people recognize the end of the year as an exciting time for students and families. But what they may not realize, is that the end of the school year is a really hard time for most teachers.  I did not have a “typical” teaching year this year, but I still feel the weight of this season. And I offer my fellow teachers a virtual high-five and a great big hug too.  There is certainly joy in the journey of a teacher, but that joy is often complicated at the close of the school year.

“You’re lucky you’re a teacher. I wish I had the summers off.”  Is a common phrase uttered by the family members and friends of teachers at this time of year. And while I understand that there is a great freedom that comes from having a few weeks off each summer, those who are quick to profess these feelings of envy clearly do not understand what makes one “lucky” to be a teacher.

What few people understand is that the end of the school year is hard on teachers.  When the last bus has left and the halls are empty, you might expect to see teachers dancing down the halls, doing cartwheels of relief and joy over the successful completion of yet another year.  However, in my experience, the hallways are often eerily quiet and teachers’ faces are solemn and puffy from a day full of good-byes and tears. Our students are important to us; we know what they are passionate about, what triggers can upset their day, and we know more “technical” details about their ability to learn than most people will ever begin to understand.

Although I typically feel a multitude of emotions on the last day of school, one of the strongest is a sense of loss. In the best of cases, there are the students who you know are headed home to summers full of fun and learning with their family and friends.  You know they will be happy, but they will be missed: you just spent somewhere in the vicinity of 1,000 hours with their smiling faces and their spunky personalities over the last nine months, and now you might never see them again. All students will be missed, but in some cases, there is more felt than just a desire to watch their futures unfold: there is the complication of concerns for children you care so deeply about. In some cases, you are filled with concern over the learning that might be lost as students spend much of their time alone or with their video games for enrichment.  In the worst of cases, you send some students home not knowing what their summers will bring.  Sometimes you know they might go hungry or you know each day will be a struggle to survive any number of tumultuous experiences over those summer months until the regularity of the school year begins again.  Sometimes you receive the promise of a social worker that regular wellness checks will be done, but that is rare.  Most of the time, you are helpless to do more than send them off with your prayers, a backpack full of snacks, and a new pair of flip flops you hope will remind them that they are important to you as they journey into their future; wherever that might be.

Tonight, many teachers will cry themselves to sleep because they didn’t become teachers for the summers off. They became teachers because they had a passion for teaching and for students; for the students they have loved and protected and taught for the past nine months. The ones who are now out of their care for the summer.

Tomorrow morning, teachers will wake up with headaches from crying themselves to sleep and from sleep deprivation brought on by the past week of late nights: finishing report cards, making memory books for their students, and planning the last field trip of the year.  They will feel exhausted both physically and emotionally as they head to their classrooms to pack up another year of memories.  They will leave the school building late in the day, many will return next week to finish packing and cleaning, and they will meet their friends to celebrate another year.  There will be reason to celebrate. There will be joy at the accomplishments of the year, there will be the hope of a summer to heal, and there will also be gratitude for the opportunity to begin all over again in the fall.

So, if you know a teacher who is finishing up the school year, offer him or her an extra hug this week…and, in my experience, gifts of caffeine are always appreciated as well.  As a teacher, I know that I am “lucky” but I also know that it isn’t because of the summers off.  We aren’t paid over the summer, and consequently, many teachers are forced to find work over the summer; either teaching summer school or at other seasonal or part-time jobs.  And for those who don’t work, there will certainly be work to do: researching ways to improve our teaching and searching Pinterest for great new bulletin board ideas and literacy center work.  Summers are great, but our students are great-er 🙂  They are the reason we do the work we do.  We are lucky because we have the awesome, humbling opportunity to impact the future by impacting these little lives entrusted to us. Teachers, today, hang on to the joy in your journey: in your calling and your work. And allow yourself to feel joy in the gift of a summer to rest and repair.

teacher pic

A healthy dose of laughter

Keilan has a straw hat that he loves to wear around the house. It is far too small. But he must find a certain pride in wearing it because every time I put it away, he pulls it out again. And each time, with a winsome grin, he plops it on his head and shouts a hearty, “Yee Haw!”

Keilan found his hat again today, and after a few whoops and circles run around the living room, he plopped down on the floor next to Logan, our 8 year old poshie (pomeranian & sheltie mix).  Logan has been a good big sister to both our little guys, and she is quite tolerant of their antics; so she simply gave Keilan a glance that was only a touch more than apathetic and looked the other way.

As Logan looked away, I saw something happen. I saw an idea dawn and excitement spread across Keilan’s face. In one swift motion, he lifted the hat from his head and landed it on Logan’s.  Being the patient pooch that she is, she gave him an indignant look; but made no effort to move. Keilan took one look at Logan and began to laugh.  It was a wonderful laugh that came from the pit of his belly, and it rolled out of him until he began to roll on the floor; simply beside himself with this wonderful new joke that he had played.  Although I joined in with his contagious laughter until tears ran down my face, I did eventually rescue Logan, and Keilan was devastated. But only momentarily.

Just as quickly as his first idea had dawned, the second seemed to leap to his mind as well, and he leapt off the floor and over toward his four-month-old brother.  The straw hat landed on Kai’s head, who wobbled as only a four-month-old can, and he grinned up at his big brother.  Keilan met his grin by doubling over with the most genuine of laughter, stemming from the most genuine type of delight.

I think, in that moment, Keilan learned something about telling a joke, about manipulating his world in such a way that it brings laughter and joy.

As I attempted to protect the head of my four month old, without destroying the excitement of my two year old, I became his next victim.  I saw the gleam build in his eyes as he contemplated how this joke had been funny on both the dog and on his brother; and how it would surely be equally hilarious on his mom.  As the hat landed on my head, he landed on the floor; once again, beside himself with the joy of the moment.  What was fabulous about this laugh was that it was not the canned laughter that comes after a terrible joke on late night television: this was the real thing, straight from the pit of a two-year-old’s tummy.

To be honest, much about today was less than awesome.  Both boys had difficulty sleeping last night; which meant I started the day feeling tired. We were without electricity for about 6 hours today; which meant meal prep was difficult, the laundry had to wait, I couldn’t make a pot of coffee, and my phone went uncharged. Patrick worked at both his jobs today so it was just me and my guys from breakfast until bedtime without Dad around to help. This evening was spent with my in-laws, who had power, but are struggling to make it through each day as my mother-in-law creeps closer and closer to the end of her horrific battle with ALS.

Some days are challenging, and today was just one of those days.  Don’t get me wrong; the day had some good points too, but overall, I’d only give this day a 5 on a 10 point scale of awesomeness.

However, as I remember today, I will choose to call to mind that silly straw hat and my baby boy’s full-bodied, belly laugh rather than the not-so-awesome stuff.  Proverbs 17: 22, says that “Laughter does good, like a medicine,” and today I got a healthy dose. The journey isn’t always joyful, but there will always be joy in the journey. And today, that joy was in my little man’s laugh.

I was too busy enjoying the moment to get a recording of that amazing laughter, but I was fast enough to capture a few pics of Kei's handiwork...and hours later, the picture of us wearing his hat still made him double over with laughter :)

I was too busy enjoying the moment to get a recording of that amazing laughter, but I was fast enough to capture a few pics of Kei’s handiwork…and hours later, the picture of us wearing his hat still made him double over with laughter 🙂

Today, joy was sunshine.

I sat in the sun today. And it was awesome.  This has been an incredibly long winter that lasted long into our Minnesota “spring.” It has been cold and dreary, and today’s sunshine was such a welcome reprieve.  I believe that anyone who knows what it is like to survive a snowy start to May, will not take for granted a glorious, sun-filled afternoon like this one.  Today, joy was sunshine.

I always think that a long winter makes those summer moments so much more glorious.  We appreciate the things we have so much more when we have gone without them for a while.  This afternoon, both my boys are napping.  And it is awesome.  We have had a long stretch of sleepless nights and diarrhea filled days at our house, and I could have cried for joy this morning when both boys seemed much more “well.”  In addition to the fact that they seem to be on the mend, I slept for 5 hours straight last night.  I do not know the last time I slept for such a long chunk of time, and it was great.  Again, naps and “normal” sleep patterns were made so much more glorious because their absence had been great.  Today, joy was a little more sleep and the relief of boys on the mend.

As I reflect on the joy that comes from sitting in the sunshine after a long winter, or the joy of much needed rest, I am reminded of Psalms 30:5 (NKJV); “For his anger is but for a moment, His favor is for life; Weeping may endure for a night, But joy comes in the morning.”  Today I have found things to be joyful in, but there are still some “winters” that I am walking through.  And while I will relish in the joy of today’s sunshine, I will also look forward to the future with the hope that even though I might be going through some trying times, I can trust that, “His favor is for life.”  My family and I have some tough stuff that we are dealing with right now, but I’m holding on to the hope that this time of trial is “but for a moment.” And on the other side of this moment, I believe that we will have an appreciation for that new moment, that joy that comes in the morning; that we would not have had without having lived through this moment first.

As I strive to find joy in my journey, there might be times of weeping, but even in those times, I can still find joy because “His favor is for life.” And though my, “Weeping may endure for a night;” “Joy comes in the morning.”

Joy was sunshine.

This time, joy was at the zoo

Yesterday I had very good, responsible intentions of venturing out with my little men to get groceries.  However, as I buckled Keilan into his carseat, he asked (as he does at least 20 times every day), “Mom, we go to the zoo?” and my responsible resolve began to dissipate.

My indecision grew as I could not think of a reason why we couldn’t go to the zoo other than, “No. We’re going to get groceries.” or “No. Normal people don’t just go on spontaneous zoo outings.”

We live five minutes from a fabulous, free zoo.  I am blessed to be home with my boys this year.  I am blessed to be living life with a two-year old boy who loves the zoo.  Both boys were already buckled into their carseats…

As I weighed the original purpose for our outing against the request of my enthusiastic, young passenger; I headed away from the store and towards the zoo.

Yesterday joy was in “why not.” It was in spontaneity. And it was in my attempt to provide a joyful experience for my little boy.

We were only at the zoo for an hour.  We didn’t see all the exhibits, and we didn’t follow my usual route at the zoo.  As we entered, Keilan excitedly requested to see, “The baff!” (which is Keilan-ese for ‘giraffe’) because, “It’s tall!” and he raised his hand up over his head so I would understand the heights of this favorite animal.  I understood, and we walked past all the other exhibits in search of giraffes.  We left the “baff” to find a “Yuum!” (which rhymes with ‘room’ and is apparently the sound a tiger makes), and we meandered through a few other exhibits; finishing off our outing with the “Fish! Fish!” and “Ah, ah’s” (yes, those are the monkeys).

Yesterday joy was in a spontaneous trip to the zoo.  It was in foregoing the “usual” and even the “responsible” for a special time with my boys.  Getting groceries and napping on schedule would have been nice, but nothing beats holding the hand of a two-year old who can’t stop raving about the heights of a “baff” as he jumps along like an “Ah ah!”  We’ll get groceries later, and there will be joy in that too; but this time, joy was at the zoo.

This time, joy was at the zoo

Ignorance is bliss?

I have always felt somewhat conflicted about the old saying, “Ignorance is bliss.”  As a strong proponent of education, I have a hard time promoting ignorance.  However, there are times when I think ignorance might be bliss.  For example, when I am enjoying a chocolate chip cookie, I often feel that the cookie would be a bit more sweet if I could just be blissfully ignorant of the calories I am consuming. So…maybe, sometimes, ignorance is bliss. 😉

While an occasional dose of chocolate-chip-cookie-ignorance might feel a bit blissful, ignorance is not a comfort to us when we are frustrated, scared, or unsure.  I am quick to ask the same questions I think we all turn to when we need reassurance: “How come? What if? Why?”  But maybe, even in that ignorance, that place of unknowns, there is still joy to be found.  Perhaps we need to embrace our ignorance. We need to acknowledge that we don’t know everything, and keep moving forward trusting in the One who knows everything.

When I was a toddler, my parents were in a car accident.  No one was hurt, but they were left with a dent in the side of their car.  I’m sure my parents, though glad we were all ok, were no doubt frustrated.  They maybe asked some of the questions any of us would ask: “Why now?  How will we come up with the cash to fix the car? What was the other driver thinking?”

Shortly after their accident, before they had time to repair the dent, we were all climbing out of the car one morning when a motorcycle roared past.  Startled by the loud sound, I jumped back, and my mom slammed the car door shut on my tiny, two-year-old arm.  When my mom looked down in panic, she saw my arm resting perfectly in the dent that had been made just a few days earlier. While the force of the door slamming should have crushed my little arm, I was completely unharmed.  I am certain that any questions my parents may have had about “why” their car had been damaged disappeared in that instant.  “Why” the dent had been created no longer mattered; they were just glad that it was there.

Proverbs 3:5-6 urges us to “Trust in the Lord…lean not onto your own understandings,” and assures us that when we do, “He will direct your path.”   God doesn’t promise to answer all of our questions, and He doesn’t promise that our lives will be free of dents, but He promises that He has a plan (Jeremiah 29:11).  So I will strive to find joy in my journey by looking for bliss in my ignorance; I will surrender my “own understandings” and trust that He will direct my path.  Life is full of dents, and while we won’t always see their purpose, we can still find joy. My joy is not in the dents themselves, but in knowing that I am ignorant; I don’t know the whole story. And while I don’t know the whole story, I can know the One who does, and I can trust that with Him all things are possible (Matthew 19:26); even finding protection from future damage by the dents that past damages have left behind.

Chocolate Chip Cookie Bliss ;)

Chocolate Chip Cookie Bliss 😉

Today, joy was a nap.

Today, joy was a nap. Kai has been an extremely pleasant, easy-going baby, and he has been sleeping through the night for weeks now: clearly, an over-achieving three month old.  However, for the past week he has decided to switch things up, and he has been getting up multiple times during the night again.  Last night he took a “nap” at 9:00, was up again by 10:00, and didn’t go to bed “for the night” until a little after 11:00.  He was up at 2:30, and again at 4:00.  We all slept from 5:00-7:00, when his brother started to stir, and I woke up with a killer headache.  Factor in a head cold and a snowstorm in April, and this could have been a recipe for disaster.  But it wasn’t.

This morning, after breakfast, I gave both boys a bath, and that’s when it happened: Kai took a nap.  He doesn’t often sleep well during the day, but today he did.  Just when I needed a “break,” I got one.  He slept long enough that I got to do some dishes; spend some overdue one-on-one time with Keilan; enjoy a cup of coffee while cuddling with Keilan & his favorite, Finding Nemo; have a nice, quite lunch (as quiet as lunch with a two-year-old boy can be!); and (thanks to their naps overlapping for almost half an hour) I even got to work out for 27 minutes before he woke up.

I’m still tired, and my sinuses are still declaring mutiny; but today I needed a little reprieve from life-as-usual, and I was given one.  Rather than bemoan my cold or wish I had been able to make my work out an even half hour, I will be grateful for the break I received and take joy in that.  Today, joy was a nap.

Joy was a nap.

Joy: 15¢/bag

When it comes to language, I’m a bit of a nerd.  I appreciate the multiple facets that any given word can have.  Take, for instance, the word “joy.” The first definition of “joy,” as listed by Merriam Webster, encompasses a fairly broad range of emotions and situations: “The emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires.”  I am comfortable with finding “joy” in my journey because it is bigger than simply desiring to be happy all the time.  I feel it encompasses feelings broader than happiness: feelings of contentment, pride, excitement, and accomplishment.

However, I also think it is important to look for joy as Merriam Webster’s third definition defines it: “A source or cause of delight.”  Because while finding joy might not always result in feeling happy, I feel we must not overlook sources of delight in our daily journeys either.  For example, last week I found that you can purchase joy at Target for just 15¢/bag.

After Easter this year, I decided to buy a few bags of easter grass when it was 70% off.  I figured that a bag of easter grass would provide me and Keilan with a fun, and inexpensive, activity to do together some afternoon.  After all, what two-year old doesn’t enjoy having something new to explore?  So a few days later I dumped two bags of easter grass and some magnetic letters into a plastic bin and gave it to Keilan. He immediately found this to be a “source of delight.” As he searched through the grass, the look on his face was evidence that he was experiencing joy, as Webster’s student dictionary defines it: a feeling of great pleasure or happiness. And I found great joy in his.

Later, I was struck by the simplicity of that easter grass.  It wasn’t anything terribly special.  It certainly didn’t have a high monetary value. And yet, it was a source of delight. I did not go to the store looking to purchase joy; but when I experienced this simple thing through the eyes of a child, joy was what I found.

It is easy to feel that we would experience greater joy if we had more money, if we had more vacation time, if we could travel to far off places, etc. However, I think the secret to possessing more joy isn’t in gaining things we don’t have but in appreciating the sources of joy that we already possess.  This time I purchased joy for 15¢/bag, but the joy didn’t come from my extravagant purchase.  It came in appreciating something ordinary as something more.

So, as I continue on my quest to find joy in my journey, I might not always be blissful.  However, I can strive to appreciate the things I have. I can stop coveting things I do not possess. I can see things through the wonder-filled eyes of a child. And if I am on the look out for “sources of delight,” in everyday experiences, I might find myself residing in yet another facet of “joy” just a bit more often: experiencing a sweet “state of happiness” as I journey along.

Joy: 15¢/bag

Joy in Weakness

The great thing about two-year olds is that they are enthusiastic about trying new things and about doing things for themselves.  One of the most difficult things about having a two-year old, is that he likes to do things for himself.  As much as I love that Keilan wants to zip his own jacket, it can be devastating to watch him melt as he struggles to do it on his own; and even harder when he fights my assistance.  Sometimes it is maddening to watch him struggle for so long at a task that would be so easily accomplished if he would just allow me to help.

When Keilan was younger, getting from the car to the store was a pretty simple task. I would pick him up, and I would carry him in. Now, when he is feeling his  two year-old best, he often tries to run ahead without me when we get out of the car.  I love his enthusiasm, but even at his top speeds, we tend to move more slowly than if I were just to carry him.  At his top speeds, I often need to chase him down to get him back on course. And when he is keeping step with me, I need to adjust my stride to account for his little legs.  When he is feeling great, the idea of being carried is offensive.  My offer to carry him part of the way is met with an insistent, “I walk.”  However, when he is tired or not feeling his best, he often cries for me to carry him.  “No, down, Momma. Carry? Up, Momma?” and he rests his head on my shoulder.  Even though I am carrying his extra 33 pounds, I can still get him where we need to be more quickly those days because we aren’t in a struggle over which direction to go or at what speed we will get there.

Lately, I have been feeling a bit tired; weary.  There are a number of things that I am working on right now that I feel I might never accomplish, and a few decisions that I need to make where I am very uncertain of the answers.  I have two amazing boys; who don’t always sleep as long as I would like them to at night and who need constant tending to during the day.  Life isn’t bad, but it isn’t easy either. I am a bit tired, and I have been striving to find joy in this time of weakness.  Not just in celebrating the small stuff, but to find actual joy in the fact that I feel weary.

Keilan hasn’t been feeling great this week, and he has been quick to let me carry him when we have been out.  And, while I am eager for him to feel better, I have noticed that he has been exerting a little less independence than usual; I have been able to help him more easily.  Perhaps, this is where I find my joy.  In Corinthians 12: 7-10 (MSG), Paul writes that in a time where he felt weak, God gave him a reminder: “My grace is enough; it’s all you need. My strength comes into its own in your weakness.”  Maybe my joy comes in weakness because in my weakness, I will give up on doing it in my own strength and be forced to rely on His.  Instead of running ahead, and quite possibly off course, I will let Him carry me.

Keilan is a toddler. He needs to struggle through zipping his coat and walking on his own; this is how he will learn and grow.  Maybe I need to go through this time of being tired in order to learn and grow as well.  But right now, I will not focus on why I am going through this time.  Instead, I will attempt to quit struggling and let my Heavenly Father carry me. I will find joy in my weakness and find that in Him I have strength. I will find joy as I move forward declaring, along with Paul, that this is, “A case of Christ’s strength moving in on my weakness. Now I take limitations in stride, and with good cheer, these limitations that cut me down to size—abuse, accidents, opposition, bad breaks. I just let Christ take over! And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become.”

Joy in Weakness

Celebrating the Small Stuff

I think it is important to celebrate the small stuff in life.  Birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays are all great reasons to celebrate, but they don’t happen everyday, and I think every day calls for celebration.  That being said, some days are easier to celebrate than others.  Yesterday my “small stuff” turned three months old. Our little Kai has been making our family more fabulous for a quarter of a year already: this is reason to celebrate. Yesterday was also my best friend’s thirty-third birthday: this is reason to celebrate. However, even in the midst of great reasons to celebrate, it can still be easy to feel tired and to feel overwhelmed with life.

Yesterday was one of those days when the journey just felt a bit more arduous than joyful.  I am always striving to find joy in the journey, but some days it is easier than others. Yesterday morning the mountain of laundry and dishes seemed overwhelming, finishing my dissertation seemed like an impossible dream; and when my husband wished me a “good day” on his way out the door, I wasn’t really expecting a “good” day to actually materialize. I knew we were going out to celebrate my friend’s birthday at night, but the rest of “life” that we had to get through before then seemed significantly less than joyful. Then, as I cleaned up breakfast and finished the day’s first round of diaper changes, I realized that we were out of infant formula and I would need to make a trip to the grocery store: before Kai’s next feeding.

Most moms of two little boys are probably brave and venture out to the grocery store earlier than the youngest’s three-month mark, but I am not those moms.  I have avoided, up until yesterday, venturing out for groceries “by myself” with my two little boys.  Shopping with one of my little guys is a breeze: two seemed daunting. And I had been lucky enough to avoid this adventure…until now.  So, I packed up the boys, tried to time our outing around Kai’s morning nap, and I told myself that it was time to find joy in this new adventure: today’s “exciting” journey.  The great thing is, when you are determined to find joy, even in the midst of the mundane (or even daunting), it is there.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I prayed for a great parking spot, and I found one: right next to the cart corral, with extra room on each side for removing boys and maneuvering carts.  Today, I found joy in a blessed parking spot.

As I pulled the formula cans off the shelf, I handed them to Keilan, and we counted them together.  I smiled at his two-year old counting skills and his eagerness to help.  Today, I found joy in this “special” time with my little boys.

As we went to check out, the lines were long.  Then, as we finally approached the front of the line, a woman with a not-so-happy toddler in tow frantically asked to budge in front of me to pay for some toothpaste she had left in her cart. I can’t lie: as I let her approach the front of my line, my first instinct was to be annoyed.  After all, I had TWO little boys to keep happy, and she only had one.  But then my impatience departed just as quickly as it had arrived: I became overwhelmingly grateful to have TWO little boys living life with me and to have TWO little boys who were waiting patiently in my cart.  Kai even decided to throw me a winsome grin as if to remind me just how good my spot in line was.  Today, I found joy in letting someone budge in line.

Then, the most blessed gift of all: both boys fell asleep on the way home.  So I determined that since we were all loaded in the car and the boys were napping peacefully, I would just keep driving and we would meet my husband for lunch.  A quick text sent from the driveway confirmed our plans, and I headed out for a drive with my guys.  I swung through the McDonald’s drive-through for a coffee on the way and joyfully arrived at our destination half an hour early.  I parked and sipped my coffee in peace and quiet while the boys napped in the backseat.  I smiled at the brick wall in front of the car because, at that moment, a brick wall had never looked so good.  Sitting there in the warm car with my adorable little men in the backseat and a coffee in my hand felt as luxurious as any vacation I have ever taken.  And as I sat there, I said a prayer of thanks while I celebrated the small stuff: a trip to the grocery store, a chance to meet my husband for lunch, and…a brick wall.

Yesterday, joy wasn’t in simply “surviving” my day with the boys while I waited for the birthday celebration that night.  Joy was in celebrating all the small stuff along the way.  Yesterday, joy was in the journey.

Yes, I do take pictures ALL the time. I think it's important to document the small stuff: like a victorious trip to the grocery store with my cart "full" of boys :)

Yes, I do take pictures ALL the time. I think it is important to document the small stuff: like a victorious trip to the grocery store with my cart “full” of boys 🙂

Finding Joy in Having Someone to Disagree With

My brother-in-law recently got engaged to a woman whom he has been  in a relationship with for two years.  The “trick” to their relationship is that they have only been in each other’s presence for a grand total of three weeks over the course of those two years, as she has been living on the other side of the world; limiting conversations to email, phone, and Skype.  Just over a week ago, we were able to be at the airport for her much anticipated arrival: welcoming her into the country and into our family.

This week, we were able to share in a special dinner with my brother-in-law and new sister-in-law, and it was a wonderful time.  My boys are already very much in approval of this new aunt who is not only sweet and loving but also comes baring toy cars and candy.  As we cleaned up after dinner, my brother-in-law told me I could put one of the dishes in the kitchen; which I did.  However, my sister-in-law had a different plan. As soon as I entered the kitchen with the dish, she picked it up and carried it right back into the living room.  With a smile and a wink, I teased my brother-in-law: “You were wrong.”  He assured me that he has been wrong “a lot” in the last two weeks since her arrival, and that he didn’t mind it one bit.  “In fact,” he said with a smile, “I kinda like it.”

I am glad for the joy that my brother-in-law has found in his new wife, and I also find his joy to be profound.  How often do we find joy in being wrong?  Yes, they are newlyweds.  There will come a time when it will be less enjoyable to be wrong. But how wonderful it is when you value someone else’s presence so much that even disagreeing with them is made wonderful by the sole fact that they are there to disagree with.

My two-year old has recently begun saying “Thank you.”  I have been anxiously awaiting the addition of this phrase into his vocabulary, and I have celebrated each time he offers an adorable, “Sanks, Momma!” or “Tank Ew!”  Earlier this week, I asked Keilan to put his diaper in the garbage, and with his sweetest voice and most winsome grin, he offered a cheerful, “Ummm, no sanks!” Before bouncing away.  Catching me off guard, I needed a moment to form my response, and before I was able to say anything, he bounced right back, picked it up, and threw it away.  That time, I had no need for frustration, as he ultimately did what I had asked.  However, I was reminded of how I could find joy, even in defiance, when I looked at that adorable face.

I know a number of moms right now who are forced to be without their babies for one reason or another, and I get to live life with mine. I am blessed.  There are so many who would give anything to hear a defiant, little, “No sanks!” And just as my brother-in-law is experiencing the joys of “being wrong” with his new wife, I can choose to find joy even in those moments when my two-year old is refusing to join us for dinner and my two-month old is joining in with his own wails of complaint.  It might be loud, I might be “wrong,” but there are still so many reasons to find joy.

Keilan in Corner

My little man: even when he is melting down, he still melts my heart.