Tag Archives: journey

Each Day is an Adventure

14 years ago, on the weekend after Thanksgiving,  Patrick took me on a romantic stroll through downtown St. Paul, “To see the Christmas lights.” We had a wonderful time walking through the wintery wonderland that is Rice Park in November, we sat and admired the towering Christmas tree and marveled at the gorgeous Landmark Center, and we ended our evening under the twinkling lights of the Riverfront Park.

And then he proposed.

And I said, “Yes.”

Last night, after a particularly hectic outing to Target with two toddlers in tow, the boys warmed our frazzled hearts with their very audible admiration of each set of Christmas lights that we passed along the way. The lights that adorned homes, yards, and businesses brought cheers and applause from the backseat as we journeyed home.

And then, rather than head home, we drove downtown as a family.  We admired those same lights that Patrick and I had admired 14 years ago this weekend, and the boys marveled at the, “Biggest Christmas tree in the entire world.”

Photo Nov 27, 8 24 44 PM

The “Biggest Christmas Tree in the Entire World.” ❤

We all enjoyed the beauty of the drive, and a “tricky” family outing turned into a sweet memory.

And, just as I am every day, I was so grateful and glad that 14 years ago, Patrick proposed; and I said, “Yes.”

Not everyday feels like a romantic stroll through a wintery wonderland, but each day is an adventure.

And I’m grateful to have someone by my side who helps me look for joy in this journey of ours; even in “ordinary” times. Someone who reminds me, when I become overwhelmed by the anxieties of life, to trust God with all my heart and to not rely on my own understandings (Proverbs 3:5,6). Someone who has learned alongside me that our best-laid plans are often usurped by God’s plans–and that His plans are better than our own. Someone who views our home as a place that we have been blessed with; a place that we should in turn use to bless others whenever we can. And someone who extends grace to me time and time again; inspiring me to extend grace to others as well.

Thanksgiving is a time to remember all you have to be thankful for. Today I’m grateful for a husband who journeys with me, looking for joy, “In good times and the bad.”

May this season also inspire you to be thankful, to extend grace, and to find joy in your journey. ❤

But the greatest of these…

Kai is my snuggle bug. He is quick with a hug, a squeeze, a kiss on the cheek. So when I put him to bed tonight, I offered to snuggle next to him for a few minutes. He has a number of blankets and “fluffy toys” that he gets “cozy” with each night. But tonight, after a few minutes with his cozy friends, he emerged from him nest and climbed up on top of me: enveloping me in a 2-year-old sized bear hug, a snuggle, and a mumbled, “Love you so much.”

My heart. ❤️

He laid there for a few minutes with his head on my chest; his arms and legs wrapped around me. And just as I was about to transfer him back to his nest, he picked up his head and whispered, “Momma, you’re the best girl ever,” before nuzzling back in and kissing my neck.

As he burrowed back into his cozy little nest of blankets and “fluffy” friends, I thought my heart might burst. And I found myself trying to mentally “capture” the moment. I thought about all the ways my boys bring joy to my journey: to our everyday adventures. And then I was reminded of 1 Corinthians 13:13 “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” And, please don’t fault me for over simplifying the significance of this passage, but in that moment I felt the greatness of love.

Love

One of my little man’s go-to phrases these days has been, “But, Momma, I just need…YOU!”

And love brings joy to the journey. I know this because a few months ago, my littlest man WOULDN’T GO TO SLEEP. I was nearly ready to cry from exhaustion and frustration, and so I determined I would put on my pajamas, brush my teeth, and stick him in bed next to me. However, Kai, had no intentions of letting me out of his sight. As he followed me into the bathroom, I felt my frustration rise. But then my frustration melted away as I heard his plea: “Momma, I watch you brush your teeth?” and saw those sweet little eyes looking up at me. How can frustration win in the face of such adoration: such love? So instead of going to bed cranky, I went to bed feeling love; finding joy in my journey again.

Being a parent is exhausting. Most of the time, I’m pretty sure being a human is exhausting. 😉 But I believe that holding on to love, and leaning on the One who gives us the gift of perfect love, helps us to find joy in our journey again: even if we are searching through blurry, sleep-deprived eyes.

Laundry Mountains and Joy in the Journey

Photo Apr 12, 12 02 36 PM

Mount Laundry

Somedays I feel like I am engaged in a never-ending battle with laundry. As I looked at my kitchen table this morning, covered with piles upon piles of clothing; I may or may not have silently compared it to an insurmountable mountain.

Don’t misunderstand: I was grateful that my family has ample clothing to wear and that I was looking at clean laundry instead of piles of dirty. And folding laundry always makes my heart swell with gratitude, pride, and love for the little people and loving husband that fill the very clothes I am engaged in battle with. However, most days I have a hard time appreciating those seemingly-infinite piles.

My guys have been sick this week and sleep has been rare, but this morning I found myself up early enjoying the quiet; stacking mound upon mound of laundry.  Once the boys were up, I abandoned the piles and got busy with cuddles, juice cups, and breakfast.  I shooed them away from the table once or twice in fear that my piles might come tumbling down, but toddlers are persistent to a fault and they found their way back there when I was was not looking.  And then, just as they so often do, they challenged my perspective. They might not appreciate the fact that I do laundry so that they have clean clothes to wear, but today they appreciated my insurmountable mountain.  Except where I saw a battle, they saw adventure: an opportunity to explore.

“Look, Kai!  Look at the city…” I heard Keilan whisper in an awe-filled voice.

“Wow.” Kai murmured in response.

Photo Apr 12, 9 02 11 AM

Looked like a pile of pajamas to me, but my guys saw it as a breathtaking skyscraper. ❤

And then they stood for a number of mesmerized moments admiring those beautiful towers and the “roads” between them.

“Kai! Whoa! Look at THAT tower!”

“Keilan! Look!  Look at that path!”

I still shooed them away before any of those towers came tumbling down, but I did it with a smile and with a newfound joy in today’s journey.

Love those boys.

Love how they challenge my perspective.

Love how they help me appreciate the journey even when I get caught up in the challenges and doldrums.  And I love how they help me find joy in this journey of life and love that we’re on.

 

"LOOK! Kai, look at the city!"

Confession: these laundry piles lasted on the table for more than just an hour or two. But we didn’t let our laundry mountain get in the way of our lunch. These boys LOVED their picnic amidst the laundry city 😉

A Change in Perspective: a Discovery of Joy

When I first began this blog, I wrote about how speed bumps make me smile: and they still do. Finding joy in the everyday adventures of life often requires trying on a new perspective. Just as my brother taught me to see the joy that can be found in life’s speed bumps, my little boys challenge my perceptions of the world each day.

A few days ago, we were just blocks from home when we were forced to stop at a railroad crossing as a train slowly approached the crossing. Patrick muttered a groan of disapproval, I silently bemoaned the inconvenience, and then we heard stirring in the backseat of the van. The boys were just waking up, and I smiled at the sound as I anticipated what their reactions might be. Although my nearly-four-year-old is often slow to wake up, he became alert quickly as he realized why we had stopped.

“Dad, why did we stop?”

“Because there is a train coming, Kei.”

“Oh. Dad, there is a train?”

“Yes, Keilan.”

“Oh, thanks, Dad!”

I saw the irritation melt from Patrick’s face and felt mine lift as well; as we fell deep into a family discussion regarding the color of the engines, what each freight car might possibly be transporting, and even the parade of graffiti that consequently marched before our eyes. One of the freight cars had a picture of a Smurf spray-painted across its side, and Keilan cried out, “Dad! Look a SNURF!!!” knowing that the Smurfs had been a childhood favorite of Patrick’s. His sweet mispronunciation added to the joy of the moment as his brother eagerly pointed out, “A bird!” on the following car.

I treasured the joy of that moment as a reminder that even though sitting at a railroad crossing generally feels inconvenient at best and infuriating at worst, a simple shift in perspective can change all of that. In that moment, our perspective changed. We were no longer just counting the minutes until the train would be past; we were enjoying every minute of the show.

As the final freight car disappeared out of sight, and the crossing arms began to rise, I committed that moment to memory. That moment was a challenge to face life’s delays with a new perspective. That moment was joy.

These two bring such great perspective: and so much joy <3

These two bring such great perspective…and so much joy ❤

Joy in Exhaustion

I have two toddlers. I teach kindergarten. Being a mother and a teacher represent things about myself that I am immensely proud to call mine.  They represent challenges and accomplishments. They represent stress, sleep loss, and joy.

Just this morning, I was thinking about how I had not posted anything here in a long time. I had also briefly reflected on why: was I unable to find joy in my journey or just unable to find the time or energy to document it?  I think the honest answer is that both might be true.  My life is not without joy; however, there is also worry, dirty laundry, frustration, potty training, and exhaustion that sometimes derail me from finding (and documenting) joy in my everyday adventures.

So, that was what I was thinking about this morning. And along with those reflections, I may have said a quick prayer, silently vowing to “find” some joy today.  Then the day got rolling: the living room needed vacuuming, arguing brothers needed mediating, lunch needed making, and pretty soon the boys needed to wind down for nap-time.  Though Keilan is out-growing naps, his almost-four-year-old self still benefits from a little quiet rest-time each day.  I brought the boys upstairs, but they were not in the mood for rest–and I was not in the mood for convincing them to be. So I went downstairs, hoping that they would magically fall asleep.  Instead, Patrick volunteered to go upstairs and rest with them while I ate my lunch.  I enjoyed a few peaceful moments by myself, and then I decided that I should go check on the boys.

Caught!

Caught!

When I cracked open the bedroom door, I saw Kai asleep in his crib and Patrick sound asleep in Keilan’s bed; while Keilan played with his toys beside him.  Though I might have been just a little bit irritated at Patrick’s “help,” I had to stifle a smile.  After all, he is just as exhausted as I am, and Keilan’s “I just got caught face” was too adorable.  So I decided that rather than fight about nap-time or tell Patrick to wake up, I whispered for Keilan to join me downstairs.  I told him that he didn’t need to worry about nap-time but that he still needed to rest. I told him that I wanted to rest too so I was going to put on a movie and we were going to rest together.  Much to my surprise, my little man who is growing bigger and more independent each day, curled up next to me on the couch, and pretty soon he was sound asleep laying on my chest.  And there it was: joy.  Joy in precious snuggly moments: joy in being his mom. Joy that I would have missed if I had been cranky about nap-time not going the way I had planned.  And the best part? I was totally and completely trapped under my sleeping toddler. I couldn’t move without waking him up: I was unable to change loads of laundry, work on lesson plans for school, pick up the toy room, or do the lunch dishes.  There was my answer to prayer: I had “found” the joy I was looking for and the exhaustion that so easily derails it had been addressed too. I was “forced” to take a nap; under the weight of a sweet, sleepy toddler.

I can’t promise that my posts will be more frequent because of this incident; but there was reason to celebrate joy in my journey today.  And today joy was found in a moment that might not have happened if everything had gone according to my schedule; so it was also a reminder to enjoy the journey: to find joy, even in the unplanned adventures of each day.

Joyful Snuggles

Perfect

I did not get much sleep last night…or the night before.  Keilan’s sleep patterns have been true to his three-year-old-self lately.  Often he is up for HOURS wanting nothing more than to bounce and play and read and sing and…. And in the few short moments where he rests quietly, inevitably, something like his brother’s cold symptoms will keep us awake. A few months ago, one particular night, Keilan was up NUMEROUS (a term used to describe a number that is at once large and also ambiguous due to exhaustion and frustration) times screaming and crying: “It hurts! It hurts! Mom, help me!!!”  After NUMEROUS attempts to console him, I came to the conclusion that there was really nothing I could do to “help,” and Keilan was entirely unable or unwilling to tell me what the “it” was that was hurting him.  But the most absurd thing happened the following morning as I was reflecting on the sleep I had (or had not had) the previous night: the most ridiculous word came to mind.  In my mind I qualified the sleep as short, disjointed, insufficient…and perfect.

If a sleepless night with unhappy boys does not sound perfect to you, I understand. I blame my three-year-old for causing the word “perfect” to come to my mind.  He has an incredible ability to see the perfection in the imperfect around us each day.

We recently stayed with a friend of ours who had moved into a rental property while looking for a more permanent place.  While staying at his home, he listed off all of the reasons he was hesitant to stick with this property; all of the things that he would choose differently in his next home.  Also, being new to this home, his furniture was sparse, and so I had my messy, little boys sit on the floor in the kitchen when it was time for them to eat.  Uncle Adam, as my boys call him, is kind and compassionate; but I still didn’t want to risk a mess on his carpeted dining room floor.  A large cardboard box served nicely as a table, and the boys were thoroughly impressed with their mealtime set-up.  Keilan found this to be the best thing that had ever happened, and one morning, around bites of blueberry muffin, he informed me: “Uncle Adam has a perfect house.”  And so it was.  It was filled with friends and family and fun…and it was perfect.  Maybe the split-level set-up was a little unusual, maybe the space was larger than necessary, maybe the empty walls were looming, but it was the location of our little-boy-approved breakfast picnic and it was “perfect.”

Often Keilan reminds us of all the perfection around us. After a recent trip out of town, Keilan sat out on our deck admiring the way the wood in the deck was a little “squishy” and the particular way the paint on the side of the house was peeling.  “Mom. Our house is perfect.  It is builded. And it is perfect.”  Keilan, in his insightful way, declared our imperfect home “perfect” in all its imperfections simply because it existed, it was “builded,” and it was ours. And though it is easy for me to see all the things our house is lacking; when I glimpse through his three-year-old lens, focused in on the family that fills our home, I can see its perfection as well.

If you are feeling overcome with feelings of discontent, I dare you to spend a day with my little man.  When traveling in the car with him, he will declare each hill you come to as, “The biggest hill EVER!” And he will accept the blueberry donut you hand him with the most winsome grin and declare: “That’s the special one ever.” (In those exact, grammatically incorrect words that speak of his youth and sweet sincerity.)  And I know, from experience, that you will grin from ear to ear and your heart will be full when he announces from the backseat of the van: “Mommy, you know what favorite letter I love? The letter ‘G’!!! That’s the perfect one for me!”

The word “perfect” can mean many things. One of Webster’s definitions of the word reads: “As good as it is possible to be.” And while I am pretty sure that there are things I would change about my current, sleepless nights; I have also come to appreciate another definition: “Highly suitable for someone or something; exactly right.”  I have come to accept this definition of perfection because that same little boy who has kept me awake so many nights, has also taught me about looking past annoyance and declaring perfection.

Don’t get me wrong.  I am exhausted.  I would REALLY, REALLY, REALLY appreciate a good night’s sleep; and maybe a few hours “away” from my little guys to rest and recoup my energy.  But as I reflect on the annoyances of being kept awake night after night, I am overcome by the love I have for my little boys, by the great privilege it is to be the one that they call for in the middle of the night, and by the possibility that even my sleep-deprived, caffeine-induced existence just might be “perfect.”

I will choose to find joy in this sleepless part of my journey as I embrace the belief that these boys, this time of life, and the challenges that they bring are “exactly right” for me. After all, as much as I may think I know what is “perfect” for me, I have found time and again that God’s plans are greater than mine. And when I trust in Him to lead me, I am reassured by the words of Jeremiah 29:11, “’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”

Image

No, they don’t share a bed. But this photo still somehow captures how my three-year-old feels about sleep…

Opportunities Given and Hugs Received

I believe that joy is found in the journey; not just in the destinations. And what makes that joy along the way so great is that sometimes we find it in places where we least expect it, and at times when we aren’t necessarily experiencing joy’s conditional counterpart, happiness.

Friday afternoon, I received a, “Just thought you should know,” text from my childcare provider; warning me that Keilan had been coughing and sneezing all afternoon.  He seemed ok when I went to pick him up.  But he slept all the way home, and after I carried him in the house, he didn’t want to move from his daddy’s lap. Before dinner, I realized that he had a low-grade fever and by the next morning, he was undeniably “sick.”  In fact, he spent most of the weekend crying. He laid on the couch silently sobbing, occasionally calling out: “Mommy, I no feeling so well.”  And, “Mommy, help!  Why you not making me feel better?”  It has been a long weekend.  Which brings me to that joy that finds you in those moments that are not particularly happy…

My Little Man <3 So Miserable... But Still So Cute

My Little Man ❤
So Miserable…
But Still So Cute

Last night, Patrick and I were planning to go out with friends.  I had my sister lined up to watch the boys.  I was definitely looking forward to a night out.  A night out would have made me happy.  But I sent Patrick out instead, rocked Kai to sleep for the night, and hunkered down with my three-year-old guy for a long night of anything-I-can-do-to-make-Keilan-feel-better.  And there we were.  I felt some joy, even as I sent Patrick on his way, at the opportunity I have been given to be “Mom:” to be the one that Keilan would inevitably cry for and to be the one who just might be able to bring him some comfort simply by being there with him.  But don’t get me wrong, I was also very disappointed to be missing out on time with friends. And I was exhausted.

My little guy cried and cried and cried. He finally fell asleep, but his sleep was fitful and only lasted for an hour.  When he woke up, his temperature was high and he shivered violently, crying inconsolably.  I fought back tears of my own as I would have done anything to make my little man feel better; this was not a happy time. And then, right there, in the middle of all that sadness; joy.  As I helped Keilan get dressed after a quick, cooling bath, he threw his arms around my neck, and whispered: “I wuv you, Momma.”  His sweet, unsolicited proclamation of love took me by surprise, and I returned his hug with a heartfelt: “I love you too, Baby.”  And then, he squeezed me a little tighter and began singing, “I wuv you. You wuv me. We’re a happy family…” and then he trailed off with a sigh; placing his head on my shoulder.  And there it was: joy.  I didn’t make it out with my friends, I was (and still am!) utterly exhausted from sleep lost the last two nights, and it was devastating to see my little man so miserable.  However, in that moment, I found joy in my journey.

There might be more to say, and more to think, but for now…I am just embracing that moment of joy in a weekend that was not-so-fun.  I am grateful for the opportunity to be Mom.  I will treasure that late-night moment of love that I shared with my little man.  And I will continue to search for joy in my journey; in gratitude for opportunities given and hugs received.

Sunday Night Trip to Urgent Care: Big Yawn and a Double Ear Infection

Sunday Night Trip to Urgent Care:
Big Yawn and a Double Ear Infection

Dreams, Bedtime, and a Snowman name Frosty

Today, a dream was realized. No; I didn’t miraculously finish-up that dissertation I’ve been working on for the past few years. I didn’t win an all-expense-paid trip to Hawaii or free Caribou coffee for a year.  However, a dream was realized: Keilan built a snowman.

First Snow

Keilan enjoying the first
snow of the season 🙂

On the very first snow day this winter, when a few flakes floated down from the sky, Keilan lay awake for hours after I put him to bed.  When I went to check on him, I found him sitting on my bed, staring out the window.  Once he noticed me, he didn’t dive back under the covers like he usually does when he gets “caught” out of bed.  Instead, he turned to me with the largest eyes imaginable and said: “Momma! There’s snow on the gate. And on the leaves. And the trees. And the houses…” As he trailed off, I snuggled him back into bed. And as I started to leave the room, he called out in a breathless whisper: “Momma! Will it be ‘nuff?”  I attempted to hide a knowing grin; there was no need for me to ask what he was referring to with his excited question.  Though I didn’t want to crush his dreams, I carefully tried to lower his hopes regarding the likelihood of whether or not there would be ‘nuff (translate: enough) snow to build a snowman in the morning.  The next day, as we drove to daycare, he was still marveling at the snow: on the cars, on the grass, on the road, on the signs…. The snow was less than an inch thick, but it had blanketed our commute in white and raised his two-year-old hopes of building a snowman.  Between the van and the door to our childcare provider’s home, Kei and I made a little pile of snow that we called a “snowman” and I assured him we would make another, “real” snowman soon.  I went to work that day with extra joy in my journey; I felt the joy of anticipation: the joy found in that magical first snow.

A few weeks went by before I could answer that hopeful question, “Is there ‘nuff?” with an emphatic: “Yes.” And when the snow came, Keilan and I wasted no time in setting out to build a snowman.  Just getting ready to go outside is an adventure. Putting on snowpants, boots, coat, hat, mittens…all in a particular order, caused all involved to be somewhat sweaty and exhausted before ever reaching the door. But we survived the prep work and Keilan jubilantly led the way outside.

Yes, I did capture a picture of Keilan crying in the "COLD! snow...after all, I think it is important to capture all of life's moments: even the less-than joyous ones ;)

Yes, I did capture a picture of Keilan crying in the “COLD! snow…after all, I think it is important to capture all of life’s moments: even the less-than joyous ones 😉

Our time in the snow that day was limited. Sadly, we were back inside in less time than it took us to get ready to go outside in the first place.  Keilan came to the realization that snow was “Cold!” and that mittens, while necessary for touching the snow, restrict the movement of your fingers.  Although I was undeniably frustrated that afternoon, I had to laugh as well. The poor guy was soooooo excited to go play in the snow; and sooooo devastated by the reality of it. It made me think about how often we think that we know exactly what we want until we realize that our dreams come with some discomfort and restriction as well.  That day, joy was in a reminder about perspective: the grass isn’t always greener on the other side of the fence…and the snow just might be colder?

For the past few weeks, I have felt that Keilan might be ready to tackle snowman construction again.  And he has shown renewed interest; asking about building a “real” snowman: a “big one.”  Unfortunately, we have been experiencing unbearably cold temperatures that have dipped to depths of 30-50 degrees below zero and have forced everyone indoors.  But this weekend, I was ecstatic to see the temperature rise, not just about zero, but above freezing as well!  We had a busy weekend filled with meetings, laundry, family functions, etc., and it wasn’t until earlier this evening that I realized our temperatures are expected to dip back down into the arctic range again by morning.  I heard the forecast as we were on our way to a family dinner, that would likely keep us out until bedtime, and I was disappointed that I hadn’t made the time to take Keilan outside in this short-lived “heat”-wave.  But after mulling it over at dinner, I decided that sometimes, a snowman might just be more important than a bedtime.

“Dad, when we get home, will you take Kai upstairs to bed so that Keilan and I can go outside and build a snowman?” I asked as we approached our street.  Keilan let out a gasp from the backseat, and the rest of the drive was filled with the details of what he would need to wear outside, where the snowman should go, and how he would find perfect sticks for the arms.  It was, once again, an epic ordeal to get us both dressed for our snowy adventure, but this time we were more prepared.  I reminded him that his mittens would get snowy and that his hands would get cold. I assured him that cold is ok and that snow is as well.  He hesitated to venture deep into the snow but gladly gave me directions from the shallow edge.  Once our snowman began to take shape, I helped him plod through the deep snow so that he could assist me in adding the details.  He was giddy to discover two perfect sticks for the arms and he set to work making buttons out of snow.  Our snowman is not the most impressive you will ever see, but you would be hard-pressed to find one that was built with more love.  Before the cold threatened our fun, we returned inside; Keilan victoriously leading the way.  Once he had peeled out of his layers, he ran to the window and sat staring at his creation.

Keilan and Frosty“Dad!  Dad!  Do you see him?!?  Do you see him?!?”  Keilan asked as he bounced on the couch pointing out the window.  Patrick complimented him on his handiwork and then asked if his snowman had a name.  “Frosty!” was the immediate response; as if he had been waiting for months to utter that name…the name of HIS snowman.

Keilan didn’t fight bedtime, though he continued to bounce as we made our way up the stairs and towards his bed. And as I tucked him in, his face beamed with pride…and joy.  We both found joy in our journey tonight; in staying up past bedtime and making a dream come true. Staying up a little past bedtime isn’t about breaking rules, but it’s about MAKING time for the little things that are important: building snowmen and finding joy.

Today joy was in a dream realized. Today, joy was a snowman named Frosty.

Smiling’s My Favorite.

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“A cheerful heart is good medicine…” Proverbs 7:22

Did you ever notice how a good laugh goes a long way in brightening your mood?  One day last spring, I was feeling particularly burdened by life, by routine, by the struggle to stay ahead; and the need to run errands with the boys was adding to my feelings of angst. I remember frantically attempting to head out the door for that day’s adventures, and in the process, I knocked over a pile of pans that were stacked by the door (treasures collected at an estate sale earlier in the week).  I was immediately frustrated; and just as I was about to give in to the urge to sit down on the floor and cry, I heard Keilan’s giggle. My frustration waned as his giggle grew into a belly laugh, as he  folded in half gasping for air between giggles, and as he repeatedly exclaimed, “Mom…Go…Boom!”  I scooped up the giggling puddle of boy he had become and carried him out to the car. And as we continued on our way, I found myself laughing along.  I would still have a mess of pans to clean up when we got home and I still had errands to run, but a giggle-fest was just the thing I had needed to refocus my perspective and to challenge me to find joy, to choose joy, over angst.  Proverbs 7:22 reminds us that “A cheerful heart is good medicine.” and on that day, those Keilan giggles were just the medicine I needed.

Ten years ago, on a December night that was dark and cold, a few close friends and I decided to go to a movie.  We were tired and burdened by the daily grind, but we went anyway. The movie was Elf, and we laughed. I am not saying that the movie was magical; but rather, it was well-timed and well-received by our exhausted selves.  The main character, Buddy the elf, gave us many lines to quote to one another throughout the year whenever we needed a good laugh.  “I just like to smile. Smiling’s my favorite,” became a favorite quote of ours. It served as a reminder of a fun time we had shared; and it also served as a challenge, as a reminder, to smile.

Smiling's my favorite!

A year later, the movie was being released on dvd, and we laughed as we remembered how we had enjoyed the movie throughout the year.  Patrick and I decided to buy the movie and to invite our friends over to watch it again on the day it was released.  We gathered a few more friends and a pile of Christmas cookies, and we made time to laugh again.  The movie didn’t disappoint; and neither did the company.  We laughed at the movie, and we laughed at ourselves.  I know it is a silly reason to get together, but we have gathered every year since then to watch the movie, to laugh, and to reconnect as friends.  We quote the movie and we challenge each other to embrace the small things we have to celebrate: “Good news! I saw a dog today…”

I love how Buddy celebrates the small stuff...

I love how Buddy celebrates the small stuff…

Last week, Patrick and I hosted our tenth annual Elf party. Over the years, we have celebrated with new friends and old, and this year we celebrated not just with friends but with our two little boys as well. I enjoy celebrating “the small stuff;” the everyday moments that make the journey better, and that is what the Elf party represents to me. Joy is in laughter, in choosing to smile, in embracing something silly, in good times with friends, and in celebrating the crashing pans of an otherwise serious day.

So today I will choose joy in laughter, I will celebrate the small stuff, and I will embrace a life lived with a cheerful heart.

Kai's First Elf Party :)

Kai’s First Elf Party 🙂

“A cheerful heart is good medicine…” Proverbs 7:22

The Power of Perception

Life with an almost-three year old and a soon-to-be-one year old is exhausting. Life as a first grade teacher can be pretty arduous as well.  However, living life with all these little people has taught me a lot about perspective and has challenged me to remember how frequently I am wrong…and how great being wrong can be.

A few weeks ago, I gave my students a math task, and as they set to work, I reminded them to: “Show your thinking.”  We have been practicing this for weeks: I have modeled how to “show your thinking” through equations, simple math drawings, etc. and my students have had many opportunities to practice these skills as well.  However, my students are still six and seven year olds sitting with white boards in their hands, and the temptation to use this time for “free choice” drawing is often still more than they can bear.

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This particular day, I happened to notice a student drawing a self-portrait on her white board rather than settling in to the task at hand.  I approached her and attempted to redirect her with a simple: “Remember, we are doing our math work now.”  She briefly met my eyes with a somewhat questioning expression and then silently got back to work on her drawing.  I could feel my frustration rise as I tried again: “It isn’t time to be drawing pictures now. We are doing our math work.”  She looked up again, and this time she audibly questioned me: “But teacher; you said to show your thinking?”  I was ready with a standard, “Yes, and we need to be doing that right now. Where is your equation?” but as I opened with a, “Yes…” I caught myself, and quickly fell silent, as I actually took the time to see what she had been drawing on her board.  There on her self-portrait, she had erased the spot where her white board hair had once been, and she was busy writing in just exactly what she was thinking.  While I had been busy reminding her to show her thinking, that’s exactly what she had been trying to do. Granted, she wasn’t using one of the methods we had practiced, but she was, in the most literal way possible, illustrating for me just exactly what her thinking “looked” like.  I managed to acknowledge her thinking, and hopefully validate it too, before giving the whole class a reminder as to what, “Show your thinking,” means in our classroom.

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I’m grateful for moments like that with my students. Sometimes it is good to be reminded of just how wrong I can be; even when I’m certain that I’m “right.”  I think that’s the power of perception: sometimes I take comfort in knowing that my perception of any situation doesn’t tell the whole story.

The year after Patrick and I were married, we both worked long days, and we often didn’t see each other until late at night. After one particularly long December day, we decided that we were going to set aside our exhaustion and decorate a Christmas tree.  Though we didn’t have much money to spend on our decorating endeavor, we were determined as we set out in search of the “perfect” tree. We ended up at the only store still open, and we bought the cheapest tree we could find: a $20 artificial tree from Wal-Mart.  Needless to say, this was no winsome pine; and from the beginning we made fun of our silly, bargain tree.  But as we assembled and decorated our tree, it made our first apartment feel even more like a home as we celebrated our first Christmas together.  When our second Christmas rolled around, we decided that we needed to keep our silly tree another year. But as we decorated; we dreamed about, and planned for, the  grand tree we would one day afford.

Last week, we pulled out that same bargain tree and began decorating it again.  This is the 12th time we have decorated our silly tree, and each year we continue to dream about the day when we can justify purchasing a new one.  This year we laughed extra hard as we traumatized our poor two-year old with this “pretend tree” that we pulled out of its box and began to assemble.  Though he was skeptical at first, as he “helped” us assemble the tree, his appreciation for the tree appeared to grow as his excitement for Christmas swelled.  He sat by the tree with his little brother sharing, in the way that only a two-year old can, about all of the wonders that this tree would soon hold.

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He bounced all over the living room as we placed our star on the top of the tree. I had wanted to buy a new one because I knew the “star on top” was a big deal to his two-year-old heart, but we couldn’t afford one this year and he quickly accepted our old, tacky topper as the perfect star for the top. I gratefully acknowledged that Keilan’s excitement for Christmas allowed him to overlook the flaws of our “tend tree;” even while his dad and I tried to strategically place lights and ornaments to create the illusion of a full, verdurous tree.

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A few days after putting up our tree, I noticed that the giant Christmas tree was lit in front of the shopping mall near our home, and I suggested that we drive by to give Keilan a thrill.  We were not disappointed in our son’s reaction; his giggles and shouting showed his wonder at the brilliance and height of the tree. And as I turned around to catch his expression, I asked, “Isn’t it beautiful?!?”

I, myself, was impressed by the beauty and height of the tree, and I was shocked by his answer: “No, mom. The big, mall tree is not my favorite tree.”

“It’s not?” I asked, while scanning the other tress that twinkled around the tall center tree, “Which tree is your favorite?”

“My beautiful star tree. The tree at Kei’s house.” was his earnest reply. And I, once again, was challenged by the power of perception.  That old tree of ours is no longer just a silly, cheap tree.  Patrick and I were wrong; that tree has great value because it is “ours.”  A few tears caught in my throat as I heard the sweetness of his voice and considered his thoughtful answer.  What a relief that the best we had to offer was the stuff his Christmas dreams were made of; for him, our tree was perfection, and it was his “favorite.”

How often do we hesitate to offer what we have because we assume that it can’t possibly be enough?  And how powerful would it be if we could only keep reminding ourselves of how often our perceptions are “wrong.”  And maybe when a situation feels a bit hopeless or things are starting to feel “off-task,” we need to remember that we are only seeing things with a limited perception: our own. So, today I will find joy in my journey by accepting that very often my perceptions are “wrong” and by choosing to accept the perception of “hope” instead.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13