Finding joy while quarantined

There's good and there's bad, no matter how you look at it.

The bad?

Well, that's obvious. The virus is everywhere. People are getting sick at a rapid rate. People are contracting, spreading, and dying from a new sickness far more quickly than scientists and doctors have time to study it and learn how to fight against it. We can't go out to our favorite places. We can't physically go to church, go out with friends, physically teach from a classroom, travel, or even make plans for any of the sort in the forseeable future. The economy is taking a huge hit out of nowhere. The whole world came to a halt. Both fear and skepticism hold us captive.

And then there's the good, multiplying just as quickly as the bad. The air is clearing. People are resting. Time seems to be slowing down as people are out walking (alone), breathing, taking in the fresh air and enjoying the sounds of nature they haven't had time to enjoy for a long time. Art and creativity are surfacing. Children get to experience learning in a new way, while parents get to see just what kind of "student" their child really is. Lol. And praise God, they get to learn in creative ways WITHOUT a bunch of tests thrown at them before the school year ends. Families are cooking and sitting down to eat meals together and then playing games around the same table. People are talking. Families check up on each other more and are reconnecting. Generosity flows freely (except at the grocery story, especially in the toilet paper aisle). Scripture and evangelism floods our social media channels A renewed hunger for God and eternal purpose seem well up within so many people right now.

God is up to something, and I hope we're listening. I hope that when life ever does return to normal, it's a new normal. I hope we take this time to shift our priorities and rethink what really matters.

A year ago, I found myself in a really, really dark place. It's been a long road of emotional and spiritual recovery, to say the least, but the recovery process has been so good and taught me so much in preparation for this current reality. In working with a coach, I realized just how important it is to find, do, and surround yourself with things that fill your soul and bring you pleasure. Those little nuggets of pleasure can fuel your entire day.

So while we're "stuck" inside, hoping this virus stops spreading like wildfire, make sure you take some time to follow those things that bring joy to your soul and uplift your spirit.

I made myself a list to come back to when I'm feeling down. So the next time I wake up feeling that nagging sense of dread and fear, I can pursue one of these daily pleasures to get me out of that funk and back to spreading as much hope and positivity to those around me as I can. I think I have plenty here to keep me busy, and I may come back to add more if I need to.

What brings joy to my soul

Reading an encouraging word 

Nature

Pink roses

Pink

Pretty nails

Foot rubs

Back rubs

Shoulder massages

Time alone

Quiet music

Birds chirping

Tea/coffee wth a friend

Card games as a family

Words of affirmation

Productivity

Finishing a project

Writing a poem

Writing about life

Teaching Bible study

Keeping a gratitude journal

Long, quiet mornings alone

Quiet, uninterrupted, unrushed time with God

Transcendent moments with God, when I really feel His presence

Routine and structure

Hot bubble baths

Spring

Mentally recharging at the gym (or at least a walk around the block)

Feeling noticed for who I really am

Being/feeling understood

Quality time with my boys

Sticking to a budget

Scoring a great deal

Being with fellow introverts

Time alone to process my thoughts/feelings to figure something out

Sitting on my front porch on a warm, spring night

Vanilla scents

Vanilla flavors

Frothy coffee

A cup of hot tea with warm honey

Mexican food

Blueberries

Strawberry pie

Peppermint ice cream

Cookie/dessert scented candles

Simplicity

Traveling

SILENCE

Allow myself to grieve (Part 2)

It's a whole new world we're living in right now for the time being until this coronavirus gets under control. It's like all of our planning, striving, and living came to a screeching halt, and God decided to press the RESET button on all of us. And now here we are, all around the world, rethinking what it really is that we're living for.

I'm a pretty positive person, for the most part, and I'm always on the lookout for a silver lining, for things to be grateful for. I avoid negativity like the plague. I mean, it is what it is. No amount of complaining, whining, griping, stressing, or wallowing in self-pity is going to change it. I'll do my best to do my part and guide my family to do our part, and we'll accept what is and keep doing the next right thing in front of us. We'll trust the light God gives us for the next step ahead.

But then I woke up the other day in a funk, and reality hit me smack in the face, making the tears well up quickly in my eyes. And as positive as I want or try to be, I realized that I need to give myself permission to grieve what may be a very real, huge loss this year.

Graduation. My baby's high school graduation.

First the announcements came in the mail the day they closed schools indefinitely (meaning, we really have no idea how long this might last).

Then a few days later, the tassle came in the mail.

And now I'm hearing of several states around the country closing physical school (not e-learning) for the rest of this school year.

At this point, there's absolutely no way we can foresee or even predict what may end up happening. And that just breaks my heart. And if I'm grieving as a mother, I can only imagine the thoughts and feelings that he's trying so hard to process in the face of a reality that he is really struggling to wrap his mind around. (And believe me, it's been a battle to get him to understand it.) My busy, responsible, hard-working, always-on-the-go, using-every-minute, serving-behind-the-scenes, redneck, truck-loving, college bound, headed-to-Africa kid just.can't.grasp.what.is.happening.all.over.the.world.

My heart hurts for his heart right now. It's a very real possibility that a big graduation ceremony may not happen. And how can I wallow in self-pity when every single 2020 senior is in the same boat? Of course, we'll make the best of the situation and find every little thing we can be thankful for through all of it, but I really do need to allow myself to grieve this one if that happens.

 He and his dad's pride and joy.

This class of kids came into the world in the latter part of 2001, right after 9/11 shook us all. Now here they are weeks before graduation in a world that's shaken up once again. God chose these kids for something special, and he's preparing them for something great.

Here's another poem I wrote out in that boathouse on my writer's retreat with David on my mind.

Count on Me

Oh, my darling child

My precious little boy

You are my daily sunshine

And bring me overwhelming joy.

To think I could have lost you

On the night that you were born

To have missed out on your life

Just the thought makes me mourn.

I savor all our memories

We created over the years

A lump grows in my throat

As your graduation nears

I cherish all your snuggles

As we cuddled up with lots of books

Couches, hammocks, beds, and chairs

Made up our cozy reading nooks.

I hold on to our summertimes

Filled with adventures every day

Riding bikes and taking walks

Exploring whatever came our way.

We swam, we cooked, we traveled

To places near and far

Experiencing the world together

Be it by airplane, train, or car.

I found our time so rewarding

As we drove to school each day

Your maturity displayed so clearly

In our deep discussions on the way.

You opened your heart to adoption

And grueled through the process, too.

Then you grieved right by my side

When everything fell through. 

You questioned God along with us

And grappled with faith through loss

Yet your trials produced a young man

Who looks to God as his boss.

I knew God had your heart

When you began to take the lead

Inviting your friends to church

And serving so many in need.

You accepted an older brother

And sacrificed your rightful place.

You’ve watched our family struggle

And yet still cover us with grace.

God has a mighty plan for you

That I’ve prayed for since your birth

May you follow him in everything

And never discount your worth.

I hate the way this feels

Watching your childhood slip away.

But I’m in awe of the man I see

That God molded along the way.

I love you to the moon and back

To forever and beyond

I am so grateful for your life

And our deep, spiritual bond.

No matter what life brings 

You can always count on me

To pray you through it all

To be who God made you to be. 

Allow myself to grieve (Part 1)

What a week. What a month. What a year.

We've been moving top speed as teachers to keep up with the daily changes to our career that there hasn't really been a lot of time to take it all in. That's what we do. We jump when they say jump and do whatever it takes to meet the needs of our students. They're our kids for the year they're with us. We're used to being with them more than their own families.

And this class.

Wow. This class has my heart wrapped around it. Seventeen years of teaching, and this class has captured my heart almost like my very first class did. For starters, I taught the majority of them when they came to school for the first time at age four. I gave them their foundation. And now they're back with me at age seven, many of them now eight. We went from learning letters, shapes, and numbers to now writing about the best day in their life or making their own fiction and non-fiction books as budding authors.  Now they're not just counting to twenty, but adding and subtracting with regrouping and anxiously wanting to learn multiplication. 

And now here we are doing remote learning, me teaching them by audio and video and them creatively showing me what they learned by making videos, drawings, or taking pictures. And it doesn't surprise me that my quietest students are the ones jumping right in to this new way of learning, probably wondering where it has been all their life! I look forward to seeing where this takes them, as I know that for some, they will absolutely thrive, while I am sad to know that others will fall behind even further. But I will do my best to cheer them on and teach them from the sidelines. Once I actually do my hair, I'll try to do a daily read-aloud or something of the sort. 

Today I set up "posters" in my virtual classroom to let them know that school is just a place to learn, no matter where that place may be. I set up all their favorite parts of class (Reading station rotations, Math station rotations, Fun center/manipulative activities, Jobs, etc.) and let them know that they can still do all that stuff from home. If they can learn to take charge of their learning at home and constantly make connections to learning and their daily activities, they're set for life. Sure, there's a lot to be lost in this unfortunate reality, but there's also a whole lot that can be gained. 

When I went in to the classroom on Monday to get a few supplies, my heart sank and the reality hit hard. I missed them, especially not knowing when I will get to see their little faces again. So while I allow myself to grieve the loss of time that I assumed I'd have with these kids in my care and in my classroom for the remainder of this year, to grieve that they don't get to use all those fun materials and supplies that we have sitting silently in the classroom, I'm looking up, too. While it's hard to even wrap our heads around how quickly life came to a halt and changed in ways we never could have fathomed, we keep moving forward--whether it be for a few weeks or for the remainder of the school year.

It is what it is.....so rather than ask why at this point, our best bet is to just keep taking one step at a time, doing the next right thing in front of us. 

Unimaginable

The unimaginable happened

The unthinkable came to be

And now we’re challenged to grasp

What we know over what we see.

We know He is a good God.

We know He loves us so.

We know He sends the rain.

So the hidden things can grow.

We know He hears our cries.

We know He is the God who sees.

We know He always works

To set the captives free.

This season holds me captive

Darkness leaves me feeling lost.

Yet I know I must look up

When my faith is feeling tossed.

Only one thing guarantees

To lead me to the light.

I face my day in surrender

And open the fist I hold so tight.

Jesus, take these sorrows.

Jesus, be my guide.

Jesus, show me more of You

As I lay my fears aside.

Arm me for this battle

Remind me daily who You are.

May I recount Your faithfulness

And all You’ve done thus far.

We cannot change the past

Nor the realities we now face.

But I can fix my eyes on Jesus,

And make knowing Him my only chase.

Interestingly, God gave me these words as I sat alone in a boathouse on my writer's retreat just one short month ago (this is only an excerpt from the whole poem that I'm still working on revising), while writing about and grappling with several other unthinkable issues that surprisingly came out of nowhere over the last year. 

Little did I know, or anyone for that matter, the unimaginable situation we're currently living through as a nation and a world. Just a single week ago, in fact, my family spent three days straight just gallavanting all over the place, trying to enjoy a few days off together as a family right here in our own community--in some very public places. Golfing, bowling, movies, shopping, eating out, etc. We were getting ready to walk into the movie theater last Wednesday when I read about three positive coronavirus cases found in Frisco, the very town I'd just spent the afternoon in with my parents two days prior. 

Mike and David went to work as usual on Thursday, while Juan and I decided to ditch our plans to take public transport into Dallas to enjoy such a beautiful day at the Arboretum together, so we stayed home instead. That's when things started sinking in as to the dangers lurking around outside, when the cries started coming from Italy for America to listen and stay home, when schools started talking about closing for an extra week, etc. I figured I better stock up my fridge (I'd skipped grocery shopping the week before so we could use the money to eat out during spring break), and then I went to visit my mom and enjoy a cup of tea with her. 

I'm wishing now that we hadn't done any of those things, but we just didn't know. We didn't see this current reality coming from a million miles away. I find it no coincidence that God led our church through a sermon series the last few weeks called "Didn't See it Coming." God did, though, and He was preparing us. 

So today, less than a week later, I'm getting ready to start teaching online and any virtual way I can to stay connected to my students and keep pushing them along while schools are closed indefinitely (for at least 3 weeks, maybe more.) I'm battling with my 18-year-old senior to understand why he must stay home for any reason besides work, to understand that I'm not trying to treat him like a child who can't make his own decisions but rather protect him from being someone who's making the situation worse. I'm prayerfully watching my husband go out to work each day because he's a manager for a food store that obviously won't be closing. I'm cooking big, hearty meals that my family can eat and then have for leftovers to keep us going to the store as little as possible (I guess that's the one perk about Mike working for a food store--I can give him the list of food items we run low on and hope his store is not sold out of them.) I'm giving my son extra permission to shop on Amazon to keep him happy and not so angry about having to stay home. I'm extra concerned about my parents, wanting to spend the extra time I now have with them but not wanting to unintentionally carry a virus into their home. I'm looking at graduation announcements that came in the mail yesterday, announcing a May 21st graduation, wondering what May 21st will even look like and if this will have passed by then or have grown so big that a large graduation ceremony will be out of the question. Life completely halted, pretty much all across the world. 

 My "mobile classroom"--what little I could grab from my actual classroom yesterday.

 A morning with pancakes

 And many more to snack on.

 That long-awaited graduation announcement for May 21st, 2020.

Yet through all of this uncertainty, I'm also thankful for this time to stay home and breathe. To get out and walk in the fresh air. To throw schedules and daily busyness out the window. To have my sons home, especially David. To sleep in a little later and allow my boys to do the same, knowing that sleep is healing and protects our immune systems. To watch my sons and husband have movie marathons while I work on other things that I enjoy on my own. To reprioritize. I'm thankful for a job that I can, surprisingly, still do from home, and I'm thankful to live in a time where students really can learn virtually. I'm thankful for a district that put together such a wise, detailed plan both in English and Spanish (and Vietnamese) for our students to access and continue learning. I'm thankful for continued income in such an uncertain time. I'm thankful David can still complete his graduation requirements without attending a physical class. I'm thankful we got him his graduation gift (a laptop) early so that he can use it during this time of e-learning so that we're not both fighting to use mine. 

I'm incredibly thankful for my current devotional, One Thousand Gifts, that continues to encourage me to see all the gifts of grace around me, to truly live and record those precious moments we experience every day and not take them for granted. Recording the things I'm thankful for is really recording all the little ways that God shows his daily love for me. Even now in the midst of all this uncertainty. Especially now that we're living through what was truly unimaginable. 

More than anything, I'm thankful for a God who is not the least bit surprised. Ever.

Rockwall Christian Writer's Group Retreat 2020

 I used to thrive on making it to my Christian writer's group every month. Then my season of life gradually changed, and I realized it was one of those pleasures that I needed to give up for awhile, at least until my boys are gone off to college. But the idea of a writing retreat has always appealed to me. So when one of the ladies in our Christian writer's group threw the idea of a retreat out on Facebook, I jumped at the chance and responded immediately with a "Yes!!! Count me in!"

The crazy part was that I only really knew one person going, the one who owned the lakehouse. But I knew that I needed to go. I didn't know just how much I needed that time away, that time with other writers, and that time alone with God and my journal and a few poetic thoughts. Everyone else brought their laptops and typed away at whatever project they currently worked on, but I went back to the basics--a new journal and a new pen. I consider myself a poet before a writer, and poetry is a very therapeutic way for me to process my thoughts and feelings and make connections with what's going on in my life. Sad to say, it had been a very long time since I'd sat down with an open journal and just let the words pour out. 

I'm so incredibly glad I went, and I'm definitely inspired to start writing again, at least a poem here or there, and meeting up with my writer friends more often. 

Here are some pics of that inspirational weekend away in Alba, Texas.

Five Points Lake Fork

 Walking toward the lake and boathouse in the back. 

 Walking back toward the house in the early evening.

 Sitting on the deck, overlooking the path down toward the boathouse.

 The upperlevel deck, accessible to two of the upstairs bedrooms

 A little reading/writing nook in one of the bedrooms upstairs

 An added "bunk room" off to the side of one of the upstairs bedrooms

 A larger bedroom upstairs

 with an added futon for more guests

 The main living area to congregate downstairs

 The master bathroom downstairs

 The master bedroom downstairs with access to the deck outside (I stayed in this room.)

 This room includes a huge walk-in closet to the side.

 Right outside the master bedroom downstairs

 The new deck they just built the weekend before.

 The backside of the house

 The kitchen

 The adorable little coffee bar

and one of the daily lattes that one of the ladies in our group made us daily. 

 Sunset

 My path to pleasure-

-that led me to an incredible morning beside the lake. 

 Morning on the lake, 

where I let hours go by without even noticing.

 The red chair that faded to the perfect pink, just for me.

 The front of the house, as we were getting ready to leave

New friends 😄

I'll admit, the stress of taking off work early on Friday and then coming back to a week of parent conferences and other big time stealers didn't make the getaway easy, but it was so worth it. Almost like a dream come true, something I've always wanted to do. I look forward to the next one already.