Let me paint you a picture: I am sitting in my sweats, on my living room couch, drinking a "naughty milk" as Mama Conway calls it (Bailey's and hot cocoa) and thinking about the craziness of this past week.
Leading up to Friday, I was busy planning and stressing about my classroom's first field trip ever. Figuring out chaperones, transportation, lunch, permission slips, fares, times, exhibits to see, etc. occupied my mind for four solid days. Then, the day finally came, and I was petrified my "Anti-Christ" kid would jump into the lion's den or I'd lose a kid or one of my nut allergy kids would touch something contaminated. But alas, we set out for the National Zoo.
My kids were adorable, yet scared, to ride the Metro. They held on to our hands tightly and proceeded to fit three to a seat because they all wanted to talk to us. Slight side note, the National Zoo is a bit of a walk from the Metro stop (a fact I didn't know so my kids were grumpy about it). We saw Cheetahs, baby Cheetahs, Gazelles, wolves, red pandas, giant pandas, elephants, all the monkeys in world, the reptile house and a SLUG (something we're learning about it science right now).
My chaperones were great and lunch eventually got figured out but the return trip was rough. My kids were exhausted and very grouchy about walking so far...it was not pleasant and I was also exhausted. BUT they seemed to enjoy themselves a lot and they talked about the slug the most (so funny that we go to the zoo and the animal they love the most is a slug). They talked about how big it was and used the vocab words we learned to describe the slug and they made predictions about whether the slug had a family and most importantly, they asked to return to the zoo so they could see the slug again.
From that point until now, I have been on the go...living out my elongated "weekend zoo", if you will. I went to my friend's all-female arm wrestling competition, helped a friend move on Saturday, toured the monuments at night on Saturday and then ran in the Color Run (5K race) today. It's been non-stop but when I think about the fun moments I shared with the amazing people I am blessed to know, I don't think of those moments on a grand scale.
They usually involve 20 minute conversations about the term, "turn your head and cough" or having dance parties while waiting to have our group called to begin the Color Run or trying to fix my friend's toilet or shooting Nerf guns at each other in my friend's apartment...it's the small things...it's the "slugs" that have me excited and leave me happy that I experienced it all.
As I think about the many ways I over plan my life and try to micro manage the big projects, I think about my kids. I think about their ability to find joy in the smallest and unexpected. I think about the silly little moments I've shared with them and with my friends that I cherish. Sure, the big things were fun too but it's the down time, the side conversations, the unplanned slugs that pop up when you're expecting to see an Orangutang that fills your soul and warms your heart. This weekend, within the craziness of life, I am most grateful for the unexpected slugs that came my way and my kids for reminding me the importance of those slugs.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Monday, October 15, 2012
Eros: I Will Give Myself to You
Brittney visited today. I hadn't realized how much I missed her and her supportive spirit. It brought back such wonderful memories and feelings. Colleen, Britt and I went to breakfast together and then Mass; it was kind of a JVC 2011-2012 reunion for us. I haven't been to Mass since August 5th, which was the last time Britt was in DC, so entering those giant wooden church doors with her by my side was even more meaningful.
When Britt, Colleen and I selected our pew and finished our prayers, we looked up to see the one and only, Fr. Paul Dressler (a Franciscan Friar). He began his "term" with St. Augustine's the same time we moved to DC and we bonded with him because of his warmth, authenticity and amazing homilies. During our JV year in DC, we invited him over to our place and got to know him fairly well.
It seemed as though the planets aligned to have us all there, under God's roof, to celebrate kinship, family and love.
As Fr. Paul read the Gospel and we all sat down to hear his words of wisdom in the homily, he quoted the opening line to the movie, "Mystic River":
When Britt, Colleen and I selected our pew and finished our prayers, we looked up to see the one and only, Fr. Paul Dressler (a Franciscan Friar). He began his "term" with St. Augustine's the same time we moved to DC and we bonded with him because of his warmth, authenticity and amazing homilies. During our JV year in DC, we invited him over to our place and got to know him fairly well.
It seemed as though the planets aligned to have us all there, under God's roof, to celebrate kinship, family and love.
As Fr. Paul read the Gospel and we all sat down to hear his words of wisdom in the homily, he quoted the opening line to the movie, "Mystic River":
“Brendan Harris loved Katie Marcus like crazy, loved her
like movie love, with an orchestra booming through his blood and
flooding his ears. He loved her waking up, going to bed, loved her all
day and every second in between. Brendan Harris would love Katie Marcus
fat and ugly. He’d love her with bad skin and thick
fuzz on her upper lip. He’d love her toothless. He’d love her bald.
Katie. The trill of her name sliding through his brain was
enough to make Brendan feel like he could walk on water and bench-press an eighteen-wheeler,
toss it across the street when he was finished with it.
Brendan Harris loved everyone now because he loved Katie and
Katie loved him. Brendan loved traffic and smog and the sound of
jackhammers. He loved Monday mornings and standing in line at the DMV. Everything was sweeter because he loved Katie and Katie loved him."
Fr. Paul later related Brendan's love, his crazy movie love, a desirable love; Eros (as the Greek call it). A love that we all thirst for, a love that makes life sweeter and the DMV less painful. Fr. Paul explained that God's love for us is in fact Eros, it is movie love...his love is crazy, mad, stupid love because he loves us even when we are toothless, fat and ugly and even on Mondays. God has a thirst, a burning desire to love us and that is Eros.
As the choir began to softly transition the church into preparing for communion; they sang, "I Will Give Myself to You." As I sat between two women who saw me change and grow during my second JV year and presently, keep my heart in check, I realized that as long as God keeps sending me beautiful people like them to help live out His Eros love for me, the task of "giving myself to Him" becomes a little less scary and less challenging.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Home
Over the past week I have become obsessed with this song called "Are We There Yet?" by Ingrid Michaelson. Lyrics: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/ingridmichaelson/arewethereyet.html
This song has interesting lyrics and keeps popping up in my day-to-day adventures and outings. In it, she describes the hope, the confusion, the unsteady wondering of whether the place she is at right now is where she belongs. In the song, her evolution comes full circle and she changes from looking outward to inward. She asks herself, "do I make someone else feel like they're home? What am I doing?"
I think this song keeps popping up in my life for multiple reasons. In the past month I have wondered if DC and teaching here is where I belong. I have felt a little doubt; especially as I dive deeper into this transition into adulthood. I keep wondering how different my life would be if I were back on the west coast. I keep wondering how my family, my friends, my "home" are doing. I think of them and the roles they would play in my life, if I lived there. As I ponder these things and try to distract myself with work and with apple picking or Back to School Night or some fall activity, I realize, God has me here because He wants me to be here.
It isn't my job to ask if I am there yet...it's my job to ask if I am giving my gifts to the fullest or if I am helping someone else feel at home here.
As this song kept popping up, one of my students on Friday personified the song. My precious, little sweetheart of a Kindergarten girl who is a ward of the District and lives with her grandmother and little brother, put my life into perspective. On Friday, at around 2:30pm, she became very upset. Now, Debra* is usually upbeat, smiley, loving and giving to other classmates so this sudden attitude change alarmed me. Debra was crying and couldn't tell me why.
At around 3:30pm, the after-school-care people came to pick her, and a few other students of mine, up. Debra became frantic. I got down to her level, looked her in the eyes and said, "I need you you to tell me why you're crying. I don't like to see you cry and I want to help; it hurts me to not be able to help you."
She looked up and said, "I want my Grandma. I don't want to go home with my mom today." And she lost it. She lost every ounce of composure she was trying to maintain. In that second, my kids from Bridgeport came back to mind, the kids who were afraid to go home, the kids who would stall or run away from mom, dad, brother, uncle, grandma or auntie. I was reminded of the pure terror some of my kids felt at the mere sight of their guardians coming to pick them up and then looked at Debra, my bubbly, giggly, little girl.
I hugged her tightly, not wanting to let her go and I whispered to her, "You will be home tonight, with Grandma. She will be there. And remember that even when Grandma or I are not around, we are always thinking of you. I am always thinking of you, Debra. I am always here so if you need to cry, I will be right here, OK?"
And there I squatted and she collapsed into the crease of my neck and cried; we both cried. Are we there yet? I have no idea. I don't think I know what home looks like for me yet. But I know what it feels like and in those short moments that help remind me of those feelings, I know that I am right where I need to be.
*Names have been changed
This song has interesting lyrics and keeps popping up in my day-to-day adventures and outings. In it, she describes the hope, the confusion, the unsteady wondering of whether the place she is at right now is where she belongs. In the song, her evolution comes full circle and she changes from looking outward to inward. She asks herself, "do I make someone else feel like they're home? What am I doing?"
I think this song keeps popping up in my life for multiple reasons. In the past month I have wondered if DC and teaching here is where I belong. I have felt a little doubt; especially as I dive deeper into this transition into adulthood. I keep wondering how different my life would be if I were back on the west coast. I keep wondering how my family, my friends, my "home" are doing. I think of them and the roles they would play in my life, if I lived there. As I ponder these things and try to distract myself with work and with apple picking or Back to School Night or some fall activity, I realize, God has me here because He wants me to be here.
It isn't my job to ask if I am there yet...it's my job to ask if I am giving my gifts to the fullest or if I am helping someone else feel at home here.
As this song kept popping up, one of my students on Friday personified the song. My precious, little sweetheart of a Kindergarten girl who is a ward of the District and lives with her grandmother and little brother, put my life into perspective. On Friday, at around 2:30pm, she became very upset. Now, Debra* is usually upbeat, smiley, loving and giving to other classmates so this sudden attitude change alarmed me. Debra was crying and couldn't tell me why.
At around 3:30pm, the after-school-care people came to pick her, and a few other students of mine, up. Debra became frantic. I got down to her level, looked her in the eyes and said, "I need you you to tell me why you're crying. I don't like to see you cry and I want to help; it hurts me to not be able to help you."
She looked up and said, "I want my Grandma. I don't want to go home with my mom today." And she lost it. She lost every ounce of composure she was trying to maintain. In that second, my kids from Bridgeport came back to mind, the kids who were afraid to go home, the kids who would stall or run away from mom, dad, brother, uncle, grandma or auntie. I was reminded of the pure terror some of my kids felt at the mere sight of their guardians coming to pick them up and then looked at Debra, my bubbly, giggly, little girl.
I hugged her tightly, not wanting to let her go and I whispered to her, "You will be home tonight, with Grandma. She will be there. And remember that even when Grandma or I are not around, we are always thinking of you. I am always thinking of you, Debra. I am always here so if you need to cry, I will be right here, OK?"
And there I squatted and she collapsed into the crease of my neck and cried; we both cried. Are we there yet? I have no idea. I don't think I know what home looks like for me yet. But I know what it feels like and in those short moments that help remind me of those feelings, I know that I am right where I need to be.
*Names have been changed
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