Relating to the Classroom

Hello, all,
I know it's been a while, heck I've gone and gotten engaged and married since my last post. Times certainly are a changing. :)

I have been silent. I have chosen to bite my tongue and not get involved or breathe life into this ridiculous campaign going on right now. But then I read a Facebook post by one of my friends and it persuaded me to say something...my two cents, and that's about how much they may be worth to you.

We don't really live in a world anymore where changing opinions and minds is respected as critically thinking or finding truth for yourself so I'm not on the band wagon to change anyone's mind. People look down on that, think it's a sign of wishy washy-ness, weakness and indecisiveness...we live in a very mixed up world. So I don't want to change your opinion or make you vote for Hilary Clinton. I do, however, want you to not vote for Donald Trump and here is why:

Picture me in my classroom, 18 five-year-olds, running around on the playground, having a good time...and one of them comes up to me crying...let's say her name is Michelle. Well, Michelle is crying because a little boy told her she was a fat, ugly pig and that he can say whatever he wants to her and she can't do anything about it. Now STOP for a second. (If you're like me and you hear her say these things, you feel all Mama Bear and want to get to the bottom of it, right?)

I walk up to the boy, let's call him Ronald, and repeat what Michelle has told me to him (while she's standing next to me). His only response, without any fear, pain, compassion or idea of getting in trouble is: "well, I said it; it's how boys talk. But if you knew what Timmy had said then you'd be more mad."

Now STOP again. How does this playground scenario sound? Typical of a five-year-old, right? The whole, well if Timmy jumped off a bridge, would you? comment is coming to mind.

This conversation, this line of thinking, these WORDS and lack of accountability would not fly in my classroom. In fact, if I was a mother, this behavior wouldn't fly in my home either. Ronald would get a talking to, a time out, a loss of privilege like recess that day and would have to apologize to Michelle.

With the recent recordings in mind, I need to speak out. This is NOT locker room talk...we do not live in the 1950's where this kind of talk is acceptable. My brother does not talk like this. My father does not talk like this. My husband does not talk like this. Multiple male friends have spoken to me, enraged because THEY do not talk like this and Trump and his supporters are bundling them into this 1950's male chauvinistic mindset. I know these statements to be true...they do not use their power in a way that intimidates, corners or humiliates women. IT IS UNACCEPTABLE.

Thinking you can put down others and get away with demeaning them is WRONG. It is plain WRONG. If I repeated this scenario to my students they wouldn't even hesitate to point out how despicable this all is. With this election, I'd be embarrassed to repeat anything Mr. Trump has said about women, the handicapped, minorities, veterans and those living in poverty. His words are despicable. His attitude and frame of mind is rotten and he is a poison to our society. The worse part is, is that his supporters defend this behavior. I am not anti-Republican by any means...I am definitely all about finding the right and best answer (which could come from any party or person) but sticking with a man who hates 85% of the country is WRONG. You are WRONG and Mr. Trump's entire campaign is WRONG. Any of my five-year-olds can see that.

Ch-Ch-Changes...Turn and Face the Strain

It's been three months since my last post. I went back and reread my January post and felt a sense of accomplishment (not like I've actually done anything in comparison but still, accomplishment). He comes home in 3 weeks. The anticipation can sometimes be a bit overwhelming. In a lull during my day or when someone asks me, I get this shock of excitement straight up my spine...he's coming back to me soon.

I can sit and dwell in my longing to see him and have him with me (which I feel like I did the first half of his deployment) but at some point, I decided to take control of it and grab a hold of this challenge, this new experience. Dwelling in it doesn't help anyone and certainly made our lives more miserable. So it goes without saying that his deployment has been difficult and challenging and down right awful at times. But his deployment has changed me in many good ways too. I have learned a lot about myself and feel that my love for him is that much stronger now.

I am proud of him for all he has done and is doing. I truly can see the sacrifices these men make and it's mind blowing to me that this is their life, our life together. But I feel like I have gained something from this deployment (besides a dependence on facebook messager).

I feel more confident in myself. I feel proud of the woman I am, the teacher I am, the girlfriend I am, the sister I am, the friend I am and the person I am. I feel like I have gained a sense of perspective and value. I am more of an advocate for myself and my students now and that makes me proud. Shaun has given me so much courage to have a voice and it's been really fulfilling to gain a handle on things I can control. Speaking up about children in my class or flaws at my school or even in my day to day conversations has been so satisfying. But also, finding things to fill my time that are productive instead of just passing the minutes by. I go to the gym, I have solitary prayer nights, I go to happy hours, organize activities for teachers to participate in, participate in a book group, cook for myself, try out new recipes, finish art projects, etc. I have a stronger sense of self now. In some strange way, his cheerleading from the sidelines has given me the chance to coordinate myself enough to mature in myself and grow into my skin.

 I'm excited to present this new part of me to him. I am excited about the confidence I feel. To be honest, I am just excited to have him home (to help propel this growth further). My heart feels like it literally is going to burst out of my chest. My eyes well up with tears whenever I think about it. I imagine the airport, me, anxiously looking through crowds as they exit the security gates, waiting (I've waited six months so you'd think 30 seconds would be so easy). Then, I imagine the rush of emotions I'll feel when I finally see him and the huge smile his mere presence will bring to my face.What will my first words to him be? Will I cry (of course I will)? Will I leap into his arms (so cliche)? What will he be wearing? What will he say to me? Will he talk about how crazy long my hair has gotten? Will he let me drive his car back to his place (hahaha)? And then I shake myself out of the daydream and realize, he's coming home soon, people, HE'S COMING HOME SO SO SOON! And I'll get to hold him tightly, as this more secure, self-loving woman he fell in love with a year ago and that is an accomplishment.

Ohhhhh We're Half-Way There

In a moment of immense vulnerability and on the cusp of PMS for sure, I am writing an emotion driven post tonight. We're reaching the 1/2 way point of Shaun's deployment. It's reassuring to think that more days will be behind us than in front of us. But I'd be lying if I said it's gotten "easier". I think that term is fluid. It never gets "easier". There are moments where I get wrapped up in work and his absence fades into the background; but it's still there.

Over winter break, I flew into Boise and as soon as I saw my mother, I began balling - in the airport, like a child. I think I had stored it all up for so long, and suppressed how sad and lonely I was feeling that when I finally saw comfort, I released it all. The next two weeks continued to fall into that same theme of sleeping a lot and being alone with myself to really process everything.

On Christmas Day, I opened my brother's gift to find that he had booked a flight to DC to visit me. He said, "let me know if those dates work, I just thought February might be a good time." I said thanks and that I was excited and then my brother continued talking to my parents about his planned visit. I tuned them out, thought deeply about some things and then finally let them in and said, "ya know, this is...(starting to cry)...actually a great time to come. (Pause to collect myself) Because I've been really anxious about what I was going to look forward to after Christmas and now I have it." I stumbled upon the last words as they came out. My family sat and looked at me with such compassion. I think it was the insight my parents had been seeking. The following week, my dad booked two plane tickets to visit me the same weekend as my brother in February.

Upon reflection, I wasn't just suppressing my difficulties from myself but from my family. On Christmas morning I saw how relieved my parents were to see me break down and have an honest conversation about my struggles. For some strange reason, I thought this deployment was mine alone and didn't really consider the support system I had waiting for me; just waiting for me to "use" them. Over my last few days in Boise, I realized how blessed I am to have a mother with an eagerness to help and a deep desire to love and comfort me in some of my saddest times. I am blessed to have my father's wisdom as he reminds me to strive for "progress, not perfection" while throwing in corny jokes along the way. I am blessed to have a brother who wants to visit me; who wants to physically be here for me; who researched and found (in his opinion) the best book about lives during deployment for wives. Equally as important, I am blessed to have a boyfriend who sends me an amazing Christmas gift - half way around the world - that left this always chatty woman, speechless. I am blessed.

Opening myself up and letting people step in to comfort or be there for me does not have to be a sign of weakness or a whirling out of control sensation. It opens a door. It can provide a pure opportunity to let others love me; show their love and help me realize that I am not alone in being sad. It's in that vulnerability where I realize how blessed I truly am. I am incredibly grateful for the gift of my family.  

Taking Care of Each Other

When I teach, I open myself up to a strict level of vulnerability. I allow myself to reveal personal facts to my students in small quantities as I see fit (so usually they don't know much about my personal life).

About three weeks ago, God sent me a challenging little friend with more struggles than any 4-year-old should ever have to have. She enrolled in my classroom 7 weeks into the school year (not ideal) and had just began living in foster care. From the start, we all noticed something a little different about my friend. Her inability to process information, feelings, etc. and her inability to control her emotions was startling. We would start reading a story and she'd flip out and throw her body on the carpet like a toddler. It was very apparent that she was and is spiraling out of control and didn't know how to process all the "adult" issues being thrown her way. Between her crying for her mom every day and the behavior reward of a hug when she was able to calm herself down (instead of fruit snacks or a toy as an incentive); it simply broke my heart.

Selfishly, I kept asking myself, "God, why did you have to plop her in my class? We have routines down, we have everything on lock down in my class...we're rule followers and everyone is on point. Why my class, Lord?"

Today I got a glimpse into why God blessed me with her.

During nap time, I heard her crying. Usually, we try to ignore crying during nap time because of the importance of self-soothing. Anyway, this time, I decided to call her over to me. I had her sit on my lap and I asked her, "what's up, friend? Why are you crying?" She replied, "I sad."

At this point, I could guess why she was sad, any idiot who knew anything about her could guess why she was sad. And normally, I avoid bringing up really sad or traumatic things with my students because I don't want to trigger a fit or hysterical emotional mess. But today I asked, "friend, is it because you miss mommy?" She quietly said, "yes." I looked at her and said, "it's OK to be sad sometimes. But you know what? That's why I'm here. I'm here to take care of you, to be your friend when you're sad and help you out." And as I looked at her, with her head on my shoulder, under my chin, I made a decision and I broke one of my cardinal rules...I allowed myself to let her into my personal life.

I said, "Friend, I miss a really good friend of mine and I cry a lot too. And sometimes I can't sleep because I'm so sad. Are you having a hard time sleeping?"

She nodded. I continued, "do you want to see a picture of my friend?"

She nodded again and I pulled out a silly picture of Shaun and I making goofy faces and she laughed. She asked, "friend's name?" I told her what his name was and that he was very far away and I wouldn't be able to see him in a very long time. My voiced dropped when the words left my mouth, it was as if (in that moment) I let myself accept the reality that he was gone; and without a beat, she perked up and said, "Ms. Katie, I help you. We take care of each other."

I held her tightly and felt love radiating back and forth between us as she hugged me back. We are here to help each other. We are here to get each other through sad days. God plopped her in my class for a very big, important, reason...He could have sent a co-worker, or a friend, or a boss of mine, but He chose to send a very troubled 4-year-old girl to remind me that we are here to take care of each other and no one is exempt from that.

"Love is when the other person's happiness is more important than your own." -H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

I haven't posted in a while, but today I feel very compelled to write about something I usually only use as a theme. Today I want to write about Love. The focal point of this post is love; gooey, dripping with PDA, showing kindness and compassion to one another, Love.

Last week, Shaun and I went on a trip to my beautiful home state of Washington. As we started to land into Seattle, the grey backdrop and scattered Evergreens made my heart skip a beat. No matter where I go or where I end up, western Washington will always give me goosebumps, western Washington will always be home.

Sarah and Lucas drove us up to Bellingham and we got to catch up, laugh, sing and joke around as if time and distance had never separated us. When getting to our cabin in Bellingham, I was greeted by a huge hug from Kelsey. I could feel her love radiating and transferring over to me. No matter where I go or where I end up, these people and their hugs will always make me tear up. Throughout our weekend together I was reminded of how much love we gave/give each other as friends. I was reminded of the years that these people were my family, my anchors through my personal twists and turns and I was thankful. It was such a great opportunity for Shaun to see and meet these amazing people.

At the wedding, I was reminded of how the two getting hitched had to work at their relationship. I remembered how patient and kind they had to be throughout their arguments, disagreements, stubbornness and grumpiness. They had to depend on their love to work through their twists and turns and had to truly work at their relationship. There are so many couples in my life that make relationships look easy, clean, uncomplicated and it was refreshing to be reminded that just because your relationship is messy, sometimes difficult and a little complicated, doesn't mean it isn't chalk full of love.

It made me think of my relationship with Shaun (this is where Shaun is thinking, "what are you about to say to the entire cyber world about our relationship?"). As a respect to our privacy, I will only say this; we had to fight and work for our relationship. At times we cried, we laughed, we sang, we were silent, we needed a moment alone, it was messy, it was difficult, it was complicated, but our love carried us through. And now, although we still have our grumpy times, I believe our relationship is stronger and deeper than it ever was. We look to each other's happiness before our own.

In two weeks, things will become more challenging and complicated. Shaun is getting deployed. My heart aches even writing those words. I find myself praying to God to 1) keep him safe and 2) show me how to be a strong support for him. I am struggling because I am thinking of how sad holidays will be and how lonely he might become and it casts a fog over me supporting him and being proud of him. So I am praying for the ability to better encourage and support him (please pray for us too).

At the end of our Seattle trip, we met up with my parents and brother. It was so amazing to see how quickly they all gelled together without force or awkwardness; it worked. My dad and brother pulled me aside and said, "it is so neat to see someone take care of you and even neater to see you so happy." Which, when I think about the core of our relationship, that's all I want: love, happiness and taking care of each other. It was such a gift to have us all together, especially considering where Shaun will be in two weeks, and an even greater gift to share my family's love with him.

I am so thankful for each of my friends and family members who made our trip not only memorable and full of happiness; but dripping with gooey, beautiful, emotional, PDA filled, love. Thank you for that gift and continue to pray for us throughout the coming weeks. I love you all.

The Best Adventures

Sometimes the best adventures are the ones that made you nervous, full of doubt and sick to your stomach at the beginning of them.

On July 4th, I headed to my gate at DCA, headed to JFK. About an hour later I found out my flight was delayed because JFK didn't have a place for our plane to land; meaning I had five minutes to get to my connection to Dublin. What is an adventure without a little unexpected panic and worry? In the end, I ran when we landed in New York and I was able to barely catch my flight. A little angel was with me or something because the next flight out wouldn't have been until 16 hours later. During my flight to Dublin, I couldn't sleep and my stomach was doing summersaults. I was a nervous wreck.

Despite that, my Europe trip was incredible. It was awe-striking, a learning experience and better than I could've imagined. Ireland was relaxing. The people were incredibly kind and loving. I felt like I was with "my people" there...in some strange way. I could see why the Conways and O'Keefes were such giving people...thank you Ireland. It was beautiful; the landscape itself was unbelievable. I kept telling me companions: "a place like this really exists!" It was amazing. Northern Ireland was a highlight because of all the recent history and how segregated it still is. I felt so moved there; moved to believe that people can make a difference and can stand up and be heard.

I left Ireland with a heavy heart; I could've stayed, exploring forever; but it was time for Italy. And Italy didn't disappoint. It was equally as beautiful, but in a different way. The ruins and history there was incredible. There were many highlights in Italy: Capri, Verona, Venice but by far, my "ah-ha" moment came in the Vatican. We walked through the museums and saw the artifacts, and then we entered the Cysteine Chapel. The artwork on the ceiling by Michelangelo and the thought of what goes on in that room over took me. Everywhere you turned it was overwhelming beauty.

Then we headed to St. Peter's Basilica and as I walked in, my breath was stolen from me. I would've loved a picture of my face; because I'm sure my jaw was hanging open the entire time. When I entered, to my right was the Pieta by Michelangelo. I began to cry as I thought of my mother. Staring into the face of Mary, holding her dead son, I saw motherhood. I felt motherhood. She wept for her son, not for the Savior of Man or the Son of God; but her baby boy. I wished my mom was there with me in that moment.

As I continued to look around the Basilica, I was overcome with more emotions. Traditionally, in Catholic churches you see a ton of Mary and Jesus statues. In addition to whatever saint their church is dedicated. In St. Peter's Basilica, there were eight foot tall stone statues everywhere of all the saints. These regular people, who sinned and messed up but did kind and selfless acts were being uplifted in a church that represents the "home base" of my religion. It wasn't some unreachable person who did miracles or amazing acts; but normal men and women...like me. In my moments in the Vatican, I was able to feel accepted by a religion that doesn't always accept people and I felt like despite my sins and mess ups; I belonged there and God loved me, just like he loved the sinful and sometimes stumbling saints.

My trip was insightful into me. There were times I wished my mom, my roommate, my sister, my boyfriend, my brother, my dad, my priest friend from home, etc. were there. But in the end, I am very happy I did it by myself. I proved something to myself and feel so accomplished and independent. I got to see everything I wanted to see and then some and discovered how strong I am and how strong God's love is for me. Maybe some of the best adventures begin with doubt, but end with change and growth.

Let the Countdown Begin

I'm off on my "Booze Cruise" adventure in four days. Although the term has been coined many times for my Europe tour, I definitely don't intend on drinking my way through Ireland and Italy (contrary to the staples of each country).


As my trip draws near, I am excited and nervous. I am living out my dream; a dream that is 14 years in the making. I am nervous but so proud that I am actually doing it. 14 years ago I made a promise to myself that I would go to Ireland before I died. As a 12-year-old, I remember telling my mom, "I am taking you to Ireland before we die." And although she isn't able to join me, my dream is mostly coming true. I am going to the motherland, Ireland, and getting to see EVERYTHING I have always dreamt of seeing. I am going to Dublin, Cork, Kilkenny, the Blarney Stone, the Cliffs of Moher, Gallway and Belfast, Northern Ireland. I will get to take beautiful pictures, meet locals and soak up as much of my heritage as I can; in the eight days I am there.


THEN, I'm not stopping there, I head to Rome, Italy for a night by myself until my next tour starts. I set off on a 12-day-long Italian adventure! From Rome, I head to Sorrento, Naples (yummy pizza) and Pompei/Mt. Vesuvius, Capri, Florence, Venice, Milan, La Spezia, Cinque Terre and back to Rome. Here is the whirl wind tour - Italy. I am so excited to take beautiful pictures and eat amazing Italian food. Many people have told me to buy blown glass or leather or other fine things but I just am not that kind of traveler. I would rather buy wine and magnets...ha.


I think I am most excited about traveling by myself and doing this on my own. I am 26 years old and have rarely traveled by myself. It's going to be an amazing test of my character and an incredible confidence booster. I cannot wait to trust my instincts, find holes in the wall eateries and explore on my own. The tours I have set up are pretty cohesive, but I can't wait to do some exploring on my own and some adventuring on my own (much to my parents and boyfriend's chagrin). I have packed: amazing walking shoes, skirts, a tummy wallet/band thing to store my passport and money, bubble wrap to pack the wine I purchase, my fancy camera that I just bought, Benadryl (we know how horses, dogs, pine nuts and nature reacts to my body), an international phone and a heart/head full of optimism and excitement!


I am headed off on a new adventure for three weeks! I return on July 24th and cannot wait to share my photos, my experiences and a glass of Italian wine with you all! Wish me luck and Che sarà sarà (whatever will be, will be)!

I'll Be Doing Whatever Snow Does in SUMMER!

It's the best eleven letter phrase any teacher can hear - SUMMER BREAK! Mine started about a week ago and it's been a relaxing, reflective time for me.


As I finished out my second year of teaching I reflected on many things:

1) I will miss these nutty kids. Instead of teaching until the bitter end, I opted for a movie day on the last day of school, where we watched "Frozen". It was awesome. It was disruptive and messy and crazy but it was a beautiful time where they could take their shoes off, eat on their blankets on the carpet and break almost every rule they had practiced so hard throughout the year. We got to enjoy our time together without worrying about literacy, math, science or standards. We could ALL be kids.



2) They are smart. I am sending eight rising PK4 kids to Kindergarten and they are prepared. They know all of their letter sounds, letters, can do basic addition and write their numbers and some can even read. They worked so hard this year and deserve all the credit, but the Penguins were a smart group this year. Out of the 8 Pre-K classes at my school, my class was the only one to entirely reach the benchmark in all three content areas. This means they all reached or exceeded expectations/standards. I am a proud mama Penguin.



3) I am already thinking about next year; yes, it is summer vacation, but I want to keep improving and growing as a teacher. There are a handful of things I feel incredibly confident in now; one being my abilities as a teacher. My principal met with me last week and said, "Katie, it's been incredible to see you evolve into this amazing teacher. It's been really awesome." I can do it. And not only can I do it, but I am already thinking about next year which means I still have a passion for it.



4) For better or worse, I have found my calling. I was talking with my spiritual director about teaching and my students and I kept talking in circles, trying to describe why I keep coming back for more and he interrupted me and said, "it's because it's your vocation." I have found it. After years of trying to avoid the teaching pathway; I've followed in my mother's, father's and grandmother's footsteps. I am a teacher and I love it.



I round out year two with a sad heart as I pass on 8 of "my" kids to another teacher but am excited about the 7 I have returning to me next year as second year Penguins. Thinking about all the awesome stuff they learned and retained this year, I cannot wait to kick start them into super smart Penguin status like my 4-year-olds this year. I am blessed. I am blessed to have summer off; time to reflect on an amazing year; time spent with these hair raising, yet lovable 3,4 and 5-year-olds and blessed to say I truly love what I get to do. Happy summer, everyone! I am off to Ireland and Italy in a week to explore and live out new adventures. I can't wait to show my students all my pictures when I get back!!!

I Wish You Enough

I've been talking to my spiritual director about this a lot lately: "asking for things I think I need instead of listening for what is needed of me."

Over Memorial Day weekend, my friends and I traveled up to the thriving metropolis of Lake Canandagua, NY. Spending the weekend with good people, zero phone service and very little technology in general proved to be an amazing opportunity for us all to appreciate one another.

At Mass during our weekend away, the priest read a poem as follows:

"I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.
I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye."

It was a punch in my gut. It was exactly what I needed to hear. I had a weekend away full of peace, love and yummy food. Hearing this poem helped me to change my perspective: asking for enough instead of what I think I need.

Once I stopped and looked around at the beautiful, overflowing lake and lush, green hillside; I realized I had my "enough". I had friends who were willing to laugh, pick me back up again and promise to not take pictures of the 20 times I injured myself over the weekend. I had a boyfriend who voluntarily drove my annoying, Disney music loving butt for seven hours up to Lake Canandagua AND sat patiently as I tried to convince him of my canoeing skills (while paddling us in a circle). I had the beautiful and serene backdrop of birds, trees, lilacs, soft waves and peaceful gusts of wind. I had a roommate who gave me some much needed "girl/pillow talk". And I had Nerf guns ('nuf said).  What more could I really ask for?

I guess it's much easier to appreciate those things when the phone isn't working or facebook isn't available. But what if my "enough", heck, your "enough", could be felt every day? Imagine how full our hearts would be. Realizing that the old man who does Jazzer-size on the corner of my school and greets each person with a huge smile and greeting, is enough. Seeing the mother who walks her chihuahua and toddler every day at 4pm, is enough. Smelling lilacs, hearing children laugh, leaving a kind note for my roommate or sitting in front of a fan for two hours to cool off, is enough. I guess we all have our "enoughs" it's just a matter of whether we stop to truly see them or not. Our "enoughs" are overflowing and everywhere, we just need to freeze and open our eyes to the beauty around us.

With that said, I wish you enough and the mindset to see where your "enoughs" are fighting to be seen. 

Finding Refuge from Self-Deprecation

"My friend, if I could give you one thing, I would wish for you the ability to see yourself as others see you. Then you would realize what a truly special person you are." -BA Billingsly To many, I am a confident, strong and independent woman. I hold my own and have learned to take care of myself pretty darn well. As one of my best friends said, "Katie, you can do single all by yourself. You're good at that." I know single because it has been my best companion for years.  In that single-ness, I suppose I didn't know what I was lacking was someone who was uninvolved (and had nothing to gain in return) who showed me how special I was. Sure, my parents constantly remind me of this fact and 17 pre-schoolers do as well but their opinions are biased and they have to say stuff like that (it's in their job description).  In the past month I have found someone who has. It's an odd feeling, going from something I know so well to thinking about and caring for another human being on a daily basis (foreign concept for me). Even stranger, seeing that that person thinks and cares about me a lot is even more unfathomable.  There are times I use humor and being the butt of jokes to make others laugh or smile or to just draw attention away from things I dislike about me. I suppose we are all guilty of this; but this man I am seeing points out my self deprecating comments and moments and digs into why I am so hurtful to myself.  Last night in a moment of vulnerability and honesty, I said something negative to this man about myself and he pulled the car over and said, "I just don't get it. How many times can I tell you you're perfect until you believe me? If you need reassurance, just look into my eyes, see it in my face...you're perfect."  It is so easy for me to see the beauty in others (even in the grumpiest of people) but when I look at myself, that beauty seems to melt away. This man, this wonderful man, is helping me see my beauty. I guess as long as I attempt to see myself as he sees me, to look into his eyes for reassurance, than I will eventually see how truly special I am.  Peace and love to you all; I see how truly special each and every one of you are and I hope you see it too.

Process of Accepting Loss and Loving

What a long week. I feel like this week in particular dragged on; but the odd thing is, I felt God's embrace around me throughout the entire time. Like there was a warmth surrounding me, a tightness of someone's arm around my shoulders, just pushing my body through the next thing on my checklist.

I never had a close relationship with my grandmother. We lived so far away from each other so it made it difficult. So when she passed away last Sunday my head and my heart began a civil war within my body, that I feel only God's embrace has started to remedy. I wasn't sure how to feel. She's my first grandparent to pass away but she was also 92 years old. I should be so lucky to live that long. I thought about the opportunities I passed up to spend time with her, or write her or call her. I thought of how often I had figured I had so much time...not sure where I thought that "time" was coming from a woman who was 92. I guess I just didn't know. I mean, who does, really? So many things I didn't know and don't know, including how to react or grieve. It's a new process for me and I'm not sure how I'm supposed to be doing it.

But these are the things I do know:
1- She was a die hard USC fan, loved anything Irish and I probably got not only my stubbornness, but my passion for Ireland from her. She always had to have bright red nails and lipstick; had closets upon closets of stuff (including menorah candles) for "just in case" purposes (Depression baby). She loved children and loved teaching and was a very devote Catholic.   
2- She loved me. As much as I couldn't truly wrap my mind around that fact, she loved me very deeply. I could hear it in her voice every time she called; I could sense the pain her heart felt, knowing she'd never really be close to me. I know she loved me very much and I am just now realizing how much. 
3- God loved her. God loves us all. OK, duh. But even throughout my reservations (for various reasons) to be close to her, God was. He loved her very much and for that reason I am writing my entry today.

I mourn the loss of my grandmother because I mourn my own selfishness. I mourn the loss of my grandmother for my grandfather, who is left behind; for my mother, who is there watching grandfather struggle; and for my aunt and uncle who are mourning in their own ways. I mourn the loss of my grandmother because I think about all that could have been. And I mourn the loss of my grandmother because I couldn't see her the way God did.

Lent has only begun and I have decided to change my promise. In light of the little Irish lady, I called "Grammie", I pray that I treat people with the love God does and see them as He does. Because at the end of the day, God doesn't care about USC, bright red nails or closets of clothes; He cares about the relationships we're building and how we're choosing to show His love through our actions. I miss her. It's an odd feeling, but while I'm teaching specifically, I feel her. I feel her looking down on me, giggling at my students when they say something silly or smiling at me as I make her proud working with a population she loved so much. I feel closer to her now than I ever did before. And now I'm trying to love her the way God does; without reservation and without judgment.

You Can't Worry and Worship at the Same Time

Matthew 6:24-34 "Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself."

Went to Mass today. My good friend and I made a point to make this our "date" for the day. Today's gospel and homily couldn't have been more on point for where I am at in my life. Life isn't slow and it certainly isn't boring. I feel like I am in a constant state of exhaustion with a laundry list of things still "to do" but today's homily helped me to put things in perspective. 

Fr. Pat began by saying that the gospel isn't saying, "let go of your fears and don't worry, be happy. Because that's unrealistic, that's not helpful. When someone is in true distress, telling them not to worry is not helpful to the situation. What the gospel is saying is that while you are worrying, you're number one priority isn't God, it's your worry. You cannot worship and worry at the same time because what becomes number one? Your worry."

He went on about opening ourselves up to God and His abilities to see us through and to pray for help conquer our worries. He shared a story about when he opened the door for an old lady and she was so profoundly grateful that it made him wonder, "what does she have going on in her life that this simple act meant so much to her?" He called that a set up for a blessing. 

This made me wonder; how many times have I been set up for a blessing and missed it? How many times have the opportunities to love or care for another whizzed past me? OR how many times have I been a blessing and not recognized it? I thought of two weeks ago, after I had a parent/teacher conference with a group of parents. Two parents lingered until everyone left and started talking to me about their son. After discussing his progress and how much I enjoyed him in the class. The dad off handedly said, "these kids are lucky to have you." And before I could respond, the mom said, "that is for certain, our son has changed so much..." then she started crying, "it's a different kid. It's just a happier, different kid. Thank you."

You never know who considers you a blessing or where a blessing will come from. We all have worries, we all have troubles and trials and tribulations BUT, by dwelling in the worry, God slips to number two on our priority list and blessings just whiz past us. 

Fr. Pat ended the homily with a helpful suggestion: instead of giving up coffee or ice cream for Lent, think about your goal for the end of Lent. What do you want to accomplish? By setting a target or goal for Lent, you will probably be more success in keeping and maintaining that trait or sacrifice you are attempting to accomplish. 

This year, for Lent, I want to go to Mass every Sunday with the goal being to breathe new life into my spiritual life. I want to go to confession (same goal as listed above). I want to run three times a week with the goal being for me to be a healthier and happier individual. And lastly, I want to be the set up for blessings every day (goal - to remember what true love really is: it's compassion and selfless giving). 

The readings for today were a slam dunk and if you take anything away from my blog today, I hope that it is two fold: 1) You cannot worship and worry at the same time 2) You never know how or when you are the set up for a blessing for someone else.

'Twas the Night Before the Super Bowl

I prepared a little Super Bowl snack for Seattle fans out there:

‘Twas the night before the Super Bowl, somewhere near the Meadowlands,
Seahawk fans were praying for Wilson to get it to Tate or Lynch’s hands.  

12^th Men were nestled all snug in the sack,
With visions of the first NFL Six-Pack;

Skittles and Gushers were plenty and there weren’t any tears,
So I drifted off to sleep without any fears;

When at the stadium there arose some strange clatter,
Broncos fans feared, “what was the matter?”;

We heard “Beast Mode” and we heard “LOB,”
We jumped from our beds, and what did we see?

He stood at the end zone, ready for a pick,
Broncos fans looked like they were going to be sick;

Then in an instant, not to our surprise,
This Stanford grad got a glint in his eyes;

He followed his route and jumped into the air,
Watching Manning’s choice and his selective stare;

Then over the airwaves came decibels never heard before,
The ground started to rumble, and the crowd wanted more;

Two teams engaged in such a great battle,
but the 12^th man could be felt all the way from Seattle;

Through the polar vortex, the sleet and the snow,
A 13-3 record made them ready to go;

So bring on John Elway and his herd of horses;
They’ll remember the day they were defeated by the ‘Hawks’ forces.

The Silent Walk Home

I am so fortunate that I get to walk home every day. I get to stroll to and from work and along the way, I get to pass by all sorts of interesting things like the garbage man, the postal worker who always says, "hello, you getting your mail alright?" dogs, rats, icy spots, parents walking their kids to school and of course, parents walking their kids home from school.

Now, I always preface everything that has to do with children with this: I am merely a teacher and have never been a parent; I do not know the stresses or joys of parenthood and therefore cannot judge the parenting skills of others. With that said, throughout my years of walking, I have noticed that the walk home between parent and child has fallen silent. Not only are parents walking yards away, with their 7-year-old trailing behind, jumping out of trees or running into garbage cans, but they aren't talking.

This discovery is sad for two reasons, 1) As a teacher, I have learned so much from my students. They seem to have an honesty and simplicity that makes life appear clearer. 2) Children are crying out for love and attention. The love and attention a simple conversation provides the backdrop for so much in their lives.

The equation for parenting isn't easy and certainly isn't going to be found in the annex of my blog, but as someone who is around children 40 hours a week, I believe talking to your children is a big part of that equation for success.

I went surfing the web only to find that:

The average parent spends 38.5 minutes per week in meaningful conversation with their children. (A.C. Nielsen Co.) - See more at: http://dinnertrade.com/568/interesting-statistics-on-family-dinners#sthash.EpmP9ktC.dpuf

The average parent spends 38.5 minutes per week in meaningful conversation with their children. (A.C. Nielsen Co.) - See more at: http://dinnertrade.com/568/interesting-statistics-on-family-dinners#sthash.EpmP9ktC.dpuf

The average parent spends 38.5 minutes per week in meaningful conversation with their children. (A.C. Nielsen Co.) - See more at: http://dinnertrade.com/568/interesting-statistics-on-family-dinners#sthash.EpmP9ktC.dpuf

"The average American parent spends 38.5 minutes having meaningful conversations with their children a week" (A.C. Nielson Co.)...friends, this is a little over 6 minutes a day. WHAT?!?!?! I think I take 6 minutes to wash my face and brush my teeth each morning! And my walk home is only 12 minutes long.

It's a known fact that with meaningful conversations with parents, children grow up knowing how to converse with their peers, co-workers, bosses and friends. They are more likely to go to college, have healthy romantic relationships and have a better quality of life. I know it's hard to fit in or even listen to a 4-year-old carry on and on and on about the new Cars movie or how Cinderella is the best princess because she has the best dress; but it's sooo incredibly important to invest in their thoughts and ideas early so they have a wonderful idea of their own self-worth.

There are a few things I do to keep me sane while I listen to their frazzled thoughts, that also help promote their growth:
* Stimulate children's curiosity and interest by asking lots of why and how questions. This helps children learn to verbalize their thoughts and feelings.

* Allow children to talk about themselves and what they like to do, their feelings and concerns, and how they feel about themselves. This will help to build an environment of trust and acceptance.

*Stop and listen. Don't just go "a-huh" or "yeah", actually listen and respond with recalling another time they shared a similar story or a book/movie you read together...help them make connections.

Again, I do not know anything about parenting but I know that only talking to your child for 6 minutes a day isn't a positive way to form a loving, giving, thoughtful and stimulating relationship with your child. All I'm saying is I wish more families I see on my walk home weren't so silent.

Relating to Sally

Went to Mass today as part of my new 2014 commitment to bettering myself. I hadn't been to Mass in DC in a while so going back to the church that helped me through my second year of JVC left me a little anxious. When walking into the church, I was greeted by two kind ushers, smiling and welcoming me in and as I looked to the front of the church, there they were...the St. Augustine's Gospel choir. To top it off, Fr. Paul was announced as the celebrant for Mass. It was as if God knew that I needed a huge dose of spiritual awakening today.

As Fr. Paul read the Gospel (a Gospel reading we all know well, Matthew 3: 13-17) about John the Baptist baptizing Jesus in the Jordan River, I thought, "alright, how is he going to spice this up with a message I haven't heard before?"

Well, he did. And the message was simple enough: "God loves you."

Fr. Paul spoke about how God's beaming down over John the Baptist and Jesus and saying, "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased;” was God's proud Papa moment. Fr. Paul said, "I can just imagine God handing out cigars in heaven like a proud father. But the best part about this story is that God looks at each of us that way too."

Fr. Paul recalled his first year as a priest in Philadelphia and a confession he heard from a woman named Sally. She was a prostitute and did drugs. She had her profession to pay for her drug habit and as she confessed this to Fr. Paul he said he remembered thinking, "gosh, what in the world am I going to say to this woman? What could I possibly say to ease her pain?" And then it hit him - Matthew 3:17. Fr. Paul said to Sally, "Sally, I want you to say this ten times. I want you to say, 'This is my beloved daughter, with whom I am well pleased."

After about a minute of silence, he thought she had left without saying anything else to him so he said, "hello? Sally? Did you hear me?" He heard Sally take a deep breath in and say, through her quiet weeping, "but He knows what I do. He knows who I am. How could God ever think that of me?" 

Fr. Paul said, "God doesn't love what you do, He loves who you are. You are His daughter and He is happy you are home."

At this point, I started to cry in my pew. I was Sally. Sure, not a prostitute, and definitely not doing drugs; but I have skeletons, we all do and this sermon, this homily, showed me it was OK to come home because God is so very pleased with me and no matter what I am His daughter...no matter how long I go without going to church or how many skeletons I hide away, I am still His daughter.

Fr. Paul concluded the entire homily with: "As often as I preach on God's love and insist that God loves you, so many don't believe it. So many think that whatever they've done is more powerful than the love God has for them. This just isn't true. God wants you to be home and the devil's only job is to keep you from home...to keep God's love hidden from you. Don't be a stranger, don't let the devil win; because you are God's daughter, you are God's son, with whom He is well pleased."

Fr. Paul records all of his homilies - here is a link below - this most recent one isn't posted yet:
http://friarpaul.podbean.com/

26 in 2014

Merely three days back on the east coast and you know what I've noticed? Although the temperatures are comparable to those in Boise, it seems colder here. Although there is a stronger windchill and definitely more snow in Boise, it seems more frigid here. My heart and soul were warmer in Boise.

Although Boise certainly isn't my home, my parents are. This most recent visit has solidified that thought for me. My brother told me on the phone tonight that he sits back and watches me interact with others and thinks, "man, what an empowered, loving and giving woman she is." I am staunchly independent, incredibly playful, compassionate to a fault, painfully stubborn and eager to learn, but my parents, well, my parents are my heartbeat. Their words, their passion, their love and their zest for life runs through my veins. In fact, it seems unfair for me to even take a shred of credit for the person they have created and fostered.

In the two weeks I was home, I tried to soak it all in. Soak in their wisdom, their silliness, their strength, their oddities, their love and like a well written book, I was left wanting more.

I am very blessed. I am an incredibly blessed woman because I have such a unique and open relationship with my parents. I spent New Years Eve with them, eating fondue, drinking Sam Adams' finest and gobbling up left over pumpkin pie. We rang in the New Year and at 12:05am, promptly went to bed. I wouldn't have changed a thing.

During my two weeks "home", my parents and I had some of the most fruitful conversations and some of the most silly (a-hem Scarlet Fever a-hem) conversations of my life. At the end of those two weeks, after three days back, I feel that my desires as a 26-year-old seems to boil down to this:

1) Love. I want strong, supportive, loving and heart-warming relationships in my life. I don't want to half-ass anyone. I want those that I love to know that I love them and why.
2) Joy. Like pee-your-pants, over-the-moon, smile uncontrollably, joy. Nothing thaws a winter storm faster than a group of people basking in each other's joy.
3) Taking advantage. When opportunities arise, coin the phrase, "there's no time like the present." On the grand scale, I am going to Europe this summer. On the small scale, I am writing a postcard to a friend every week. I want to build on my joy and love I have in my life so I need to take advantage of the wonderful people God has gifted me in my life. OR when someone calls, I no longer hit the "ignore" button. Taking advantage of opportunities, joy and love and seeking those opportunities are my major action step as a 26-year-old.
4) Embracing myself. God made me; He gifted me with my parents to raise me into this woman I am. Who I am to throw it away or hide it. I wear onsies, I love Jeopardy and shoes with good arch support, I am engrossed by puzzles, love the smell of rain, love children's movies and trashy TV and Top 40 music; I cry in every movie, sing flat most of the time, think my voice is too nasally and I bite my nails. But I love people; I believe in people and I believe that we all belong to each other...26 is about embracing all of that.

26 in 2014 is about thawing my heart when it's away from my home. 26 in 2014 is about loving joy and living to the fullest while embracing every imperfection, because at this point, let's face it, am I going to change that much? 26 in 2014 is about being grateful. Grateful to God, grateful to friends and most importantly, grateful to the two human beings that I had the privilege of bringing in 2014 with. I feel it in my bones. It's time. Things are beginning to thaw out, out east.

Week 8: The Pre-K Diaries

Well, I've made it through eight whole weeks of Pre-K. Although there was apprehension, fear, excitement and a dash of doubt, I have survived the first five weeks of school and more importantly, so have my students.

I have an interesting band of 17 misfits with big personalities and even bigger needs. It's definitely been a challenge to learn what motivates them and what manipulation techniques I can use to persuade them to follow the rules or "make good choices" as we say in my classroom.

With that said, here are the top ten Pre-K moments so far with my band of misfits:

10. Reminding me that They are Little People Still Learning Right From Wrong: Don't know why this is number 10, but yesterday a student went into the bathroom and after I shut the curtain behind him (not more than two minutes) I heard a huge crash in the bathroom...he broke something...well, it turns out he pushed the cover off of the toilet lid and it smashed to the ground. Not sure how he lifted it or why he did it but when I asked him if it was a good choice, he didn't know. Needless to say, now he doesn't get the curtain shut behind him anymore and the toilet has a cardboard box over the tank.
9. Their Sense of Justice: Since day one, I have repeated the line: "Pre-K is fair" to my students with the hopes that they'll gain a better understanding of sharing. Well, this week,one of my students with an IEP (specialized plan for children with special needs) was watching as another student run up to the schedule and tear off the arrow pointing to where we were in the schedule. B was so appalled by this action, apparently, that he got up from the carpet, took the arrow from the other student saying, "No, N, that's not OK. You're not making good choices" and he put the arrow back on the schedule. I didn't have to say anything...B felt a sense of injustice and wanted to right the wrong.
8. Creativity: during an assessment, one of the questions is - does he/she know his/her full name? I asked one little girl what her name was and she said, "Claire". Then I asked, "Claire? What? What's your last name?" She stopped, thought for a second and smiled brightly while screaming, "Claire Polka Dot!"
7. Their Grasp on Reality: I took my students on a listening walk but before we went, I asked them, "what do you think we'll hear on our listening walk?" Their answers go as follows: -a firetruck -a car -a dog -a plane -a tractor trailer and my favorite, a  princess turning strawberries into frogs. I love that in my job description, I am not allowed to correct them, this was a brainstorming activity and you never know, we might've heard a princess turning strawberries into frogs on our listening walk.
6. The Innocence of their Thoughts: It's inevitable that a handful of my students are going to be listening to the same music as I. I recently heard a few students singing Robin Thicke's "Blurred Lines" which is 100% about sex. My students kept repeating the same lyric over and over: "I know you want it. I know you want it." So I finally asked them, "What do you think he wants?" and without a beat they responded, "I don't know, a cookie?"
5. Their Emotions: The emotions they have are so pure and raw and honest that it's beautiful. When they give you a hug, it's the best hug you've ever gotten. Yesterday a student was very sad after his mom left and my youngest student turned to him and said, "it's OK, mommies always come back" as she rubbed his back.
4. Their Ability to Roll With the Punches: We were reading Caps for Sale and it was my third read through and by this point they knew most of the words in the story because a few lines repeats over and over again. I read one of these repetitious lines, "Caps! Caps, for sale! 50 cents a cap!" and they read it with me. When it came time for the line again they anxiously yelled, "Caps! Caps, for sale! 50 dollars a cap!" I stopped, and smiled in disbelief and said, "wait, wait, wait, is this because of inflation?" And they screamed, "yes, caps are expensive!"
3. Their Ideas of beauty: while playing beauty parlor with my hair, they have pulled out probably half of my scalp...but as they constantly tell me, "it's all to make you more beautiful" and then one little girl screams, "we need more grease!" Still trying to figure this one out.
2. Discovering Little Boys' Problems with Being Easily Distracted: I learned very quickly that when a little boy is using the bathroom, that is the WORST time to say his name (unless, of course, you don't mind cleaning up urine off the floor, toilet seat, walls, step stool, his clothing and yours as well).
1. Potty Humor: I had a little boy who went #2 on the toilet and as I popped my head in to see if he was OK and asked, "hey, man is everything alright in here?" He lit up, hopped down from the toilet, turned around and bent over (spreading his cheeks wide open in front of me). I looked at his bum and then him and said, "you can wipe. Ms. Katie doesn't wipe" and walked away.  

Measuring Our Success

In my Pre-K classroom the measure of success isn't with the things one would usually expect. Yes, academics like knowing your letters, counting, knowing the shapes and colors are all very important but the thing that the parents ask for the most and the assessment that carries the most weight is the one measuring their child's level of personal/social interactions and empathy.

I made the silly mistake on my first home visit of being overly prepared to report to the parents all the letters and numbers their child knew and I even brought some example writing samples their child had done but the funny thing was when we started talking they didn't really care about the materials I had prepared. They wanted to know how their son was interacting with other children. And when it came time for them to make a "goal" for their child it wasn't for him to master writing his name or being able to read, but it was for him to make a friend and sympathize better with his peers.

That got me thinking, how do we get from those goals of empathizing with our peers to turning a blind eye to the needs of others. With the "recent" government shutdown, it's been a bit of a mess here in DC. Many are furloughed and many are in danger of not being able to pay their bills. I have friends who aren't getting paid but are still working and are nervous about how their rent will be paid.

Even though these realities exist it's amazing to me that there are people (a-hem, FOX news) that voice their opinions in between chuckles, "so a few tourists won't be able to see Statue of Liberty or the National Parks, this isn't a catastrophe like the democrats are trying to say it is."

To put some perspective on it, and to share an interesting fact; the District of Columbia has a budget controlled by the House. We have no "rainy day funds" or state funds backing us up. Meaning, this Tuesday will be the last time teachers in the public schools will be paid and charter schools (like mine) will lose funding on Oct. 25th. It appears that two sides are arguing and fighting over things that (in my opinion) seem minuscule compared to libraries, schools, trash companies, post offices and food inspection companies being shut down. The stubborn-ness and lack of compassion (and empathy) for those they are hurting is appalling.  So, I wonder, is it funny now? When does it become a catastrophe, my friends? When do citizens start to demand more and cry out in disgust and anger?

In my classroom if two students are arguing and can't come to a resolution we talk it through to see both sides until a resolution is met that both parties can deal with; and if that doesn't happen, they sit in time out. Does our government need a time out? Maybe equal treatment like their paychecks being withheld? Or maybe just a return to Pre-K so they can remember what we should be measuring success by: empathy.

All I Need is a Mix Tape

Call me a modern day woman or (more likely) correctly identifying my Love Language but I am struck by a song a just heard on the radio which prompted a conversation with my roommate about what I'd want from "my man".

I was listening to Bruno Mars' song, "If I was Your Man" and felt a little funny about it because the chorus goes: "Well, I should've bought you flowers and held your hand. Should've given you all my hours, when I had the chance. Taken you to every party, because I know how you like to dance."

Now, I'm not one to argue with the wisdom of pop music now-a-days (especially since the 2012 hit, "Instagram that Hoe" came out) BUT I do believe women are expecting more from their significant others than 1) flowers 2) hand holding and 3) dancing. I mean, are we that simple?

This conversation pushed my roommate to ask me, "well, Katie, if he was your man, what would he be singing?"

Never one to shy away from an interesting and slightly silly hypothetical, here is my answer:
If he was my man, he would ---- offer me an honest, loving relationship based on equality; give me hugs even when I'm PMS-ing, eating a pint of ice cream on the couch and have a nice dot-to-dot of zits on my chin; let me have time with my friends but smile when I text him periodically throughout the night; love watching football with me; put away my clean laundry for me out of the blue one day because he knows I hate doing it; ask me about my day; want to meet my family and friends and join in on their crazy banter; dance when he wants to; laugh when he can and cry when he feels like it; compete against me in trivia and not judge me when I know nothing about our country's history prior to 1942; let me take care of him and most importantly, make me a mix tape*.

Flowers can be bought at a store anywhere, heck even the street vender sells them right by my apartment and sure, diamonds are shiny but a mix tape, now there is something from the heart. Think about it, he picks songs specifically that remind him of you and the relationship you share. He's put in a few hours to pick which ones are perfect, sprinkling in a few silly songs like "Make Love in This Club" by Usher or "Can't Get Enough of Your Love" by Barry White and conclude the tape with the song that will surly epitomize your relationship together. It's that simple and dare I say it, that cheap. Just get me something thoughtful, something that means a lot to you and I'll be happy. That's the secret, that's the key...not dancing, not flowers, not hand holding; just a mix tape.

*To modernize it a bit, a mixed tape can be replaced with a compact disc. :)

Relationship Blessings

When visiting my sister, she mentioned that her 10 year high school reunion was coming up and it made me reflect on the seven years I've been out of high school. I thought about the relationships I still have, the ones I no longer have and the new ones that are just now forming.

As I reflected I thought about the people I've had the privilege of meeting on the east coast. I formed relationships with all sorts of people: young, old, neighbor, bus driver, roommate, community mate, Bills fans, bartender, teacher, councilor and plain ol' friend. Their stories and their love has formed me into the person I am today. But it definitely came with a trade off. For the three years I've been on the east coast, I've missed birthdays, weddings, taco Tuesdays, movie night, going away parties and babies being born with my friends on the west coast (and they laid the foundation for who I am).

At my hostess job, I strike up conversations once in a while with men going to watch "the game" and they ask where I'm from. When I tell them, they say, "wow, that's really far. Why are you still here?" I always come up with a cutsie response like, "well, this bar needs me" or something like that. In actuality, I feel like the luckiest woman alive...as my new assistant teacher would say, "I am blessed."

I have people who have touched my life spanning from Korea to California, from Maine to Texas and Detroit to Seattle. I am blessed and I wouldn't have it any other way. Yes, I am sad that I miss so many amazing things my friends in Washington are doing and the pictures I see or the hour-long phone chats we have make me want to pack up and move back but then I think to myself, "dang, once I move back, I'll have the same longing to be back in DC with my friends there."

My dad always says, "what if history is silly history" but for kicks, what if I had never moved to the east coast? I wouldn't have missed weddings, birthdays, bridal showers, baby showers or taco Tuesdays but think of all I would've missed out on: Cowboy Tito's dance moves, Ms. Angie's humor and friendship, Mr. T in Bridgeport who showed me the true meaning of social justice, watching a student get adopted!, meeting many amazing roommates, seeing major cities in the US, reconnecting with my Jersey family, representing the 'Hawks at bars on Sundays, going to Costa Rica, forming my Miriam's Kitchen family. I have been blessed. Is it possible to have too many blessings? It's overwhelming when you think about it; I mean really think about it. Think of the Christmas or Hannukah cards you get around the holidays...those people love you and were part of some fiber that helped make up you.

Too many blessings...taking a step back to reflect on my choice to move out here has left me feeling full. I feel like the relationships that chose me have been the greatest and most rewarding blessings I have.