I'm Going to Miss My Kids!

Man, I love my kids.

I posted something funny this evening that my Tess told me. I don't think she was trying to be funny when she said it but it made me smile none-the-less. If I posted all of the moments like those that our family has everyday, I would have to hire someone to do it because there are so many of them.

Funny moments, sad moments, tender moments, difficult moments and crazy-mom-is-freaking-out-again moments make up my day. Lately we've added stop-everyone-be-quiet-because-Granny-is-confused moments. You know like when you were a kid and your dad was driving in bad weather so the radio got turned off and everyone sat still as stones until you got home because it was important that he concentrate? I get like that when Granny is confused and the children can tell when they need to go sit down, be still and keep Dinah entertained because my full focus has to be on Granny. (How great are they to know that and understand that? Pretty great.)

I joke that every time I've had a child go to kindergarten, I have another baby because I can't stand not having someone with me. (I guess it isn't a joke because I've really had a baby every time one of them went to kindergarten. I don't have anyone going to kindergarten this year, so I'm not having a baby. Well, that and Eric says we can't have anymore because in all probability he is going to be attempting to draw his Social Security before Dinah graduates and he wants to retire before he turns 80) I miss them so much when they aren't here with me.

Yes, there are times when I think, "I've got to have an hour of peace or I'm going to go crazy." When they are fighting non-stop and I am tired and I can't take it any more, August and a new school year doesn't seem so bad. But I really want them with me, because an hour (maybe a couple of hours, or three) after they are gone, I am wanting them home again.

I don't know if you know it, but I'm a homeschool mom wannabe. Ever since Ty was a toddler, I have prayed that I would get to keep my children home with me. So far, God has not seen fit to grant me that request. Maybe He is protecting me (or my children) from myself. Maybe I would be a horrible homeschool mom. I don't know. All I know is that my babies are and probably will always be in public school.

My husband is a school teacher. Being around the teacher community for some time, I hear or have heard in the past other teachers or people from the community complain when a teacher's children are homeschooled or even that they don't go to the same school that the teacher does. I may have been one of those complainers at one time or another.

And then on the other side of the coin, (maybe because I want to be one of them) I have experienced feeling (real or imagined) that a homeschool parent didn't think I was doing the right thing for my children for allowing them to go to public school. It's kind of hard not to think that when they are telling you all the reasons they wouldn't let their child cross the threshold.

What have I learned from both of these sides and with years of experience being a mom? That each parent has to do what they think is best for their children by following the Lord's guidance in all things. It really isn't any of my business where anyone else's child goes to school. I should only voice opinions about my own children and keep all other thoughts to myself. As long as we have sought His direction for our children's education and have listened for His voice and feel we are walking in that way, I (I say "I" here because Eric doesn't feel guilty about it) shouldn't feel guilt either way.

So tonight on the eve of a new school year, I thank God for public school and the fact that we are able to be a part of what He has planned there. I pray for all of the administrators and teachers that will walk those halls and teach in those classrooms. They have a huge job before them and can only do it through the Lord's strength. Satan wants them to fail. He wants them to mess up. Our prayers need to be many for those who teach.

I pray for the parents who will watch their child go out the door in the morning and wish them back again. I pray for the parents who don't get to take their child to school and kiss them goodbye at the door. I pray for the children. I pray that they would each have an adult who loves them and cares for them and is able to clothe them and help keep them clean and keep them fed. I pray that each child will find a caring teacher on the other side of the door in the morning. I pray that we as parents remember that just because we send our children outside the home to be educated, it doesn't mean that we aren't teachers ourselves. I pray that we take up our responsibility as well.

I pray also for my homeschool friends. I thank God that they have the opportunity to teach their children at home because not everyone has that option. I ask blessings on their homes as they decide on and prepare curriculum. For those who are weary from being 24/7 caregivers without a moment to themselves, I pray for them strength and peace of mind and opportunities for rest. I pray for their children as well. That they will have focus as they take their lessons at home.

I hope that you see my heart about all of these things. I had no intention when I started this post that it would end up here. I just thought I was going to tell you about how much I love my sweet (most of the time) children and how much I am going to miss them (at least after an hour, or two, or three) tomorrow. Granny, Dinah and I will probably just sit and stare at the wall and wonder where the summer went.

I am so grateful that my children don't feel like I did about school. (I would have loved to have been homeschooled as a child. To be honest though, with my crippling shyness, I think that if I had been, I might still be living with my mother and looking a bit like Bette Davis in the first part of Now, Voyager.) But as they go to a new school in the morning I will have to pray for extra measure of peace to outweigh the butterflies for them and myself. If you have time, we would appreciate if you would pray for them also. Alcorn Central is a lot bigger than Biggersville. (Yes, that is a bit of a paradox.) I'm praying they won't be overwhelmed and they make friends easily.  They will be missing their other friends more as they go to school in the morning.

Tess shot down my offer to make a commercial with testimonials from her current friends about what a great friend she is. She is on her own now. I tried to help. I packed a stick (a small one--It kind of looks like a pencil) in Ty's back pack for him to beat the girls off. I know he's my kid but I think anyone would tell you he is handsome and he has a personality to go with it. It's killing me. Amelia told me that she was going to wait until the day after tomorrow (because she was sure that she would have friends by then) to let them know she was crazy. I let her know we might need to keep that to ourselves, especially with new friends, but she assured me it was the good kind of crazy, the fun kind. (So we know who to pray for a little extra.) As their mama, I know they are wonderful kids and my greatest comfort is as they walk into a school knowing very few people that they all 3 have the Holy Spirit going in with them.

So I hope you'll forgive this very all-over-the-place post and excuse me while I cry a bit before I go to sleep.

Prayers going up for all school people, home and public, (And Private!)

Anna

Letter From A Coach's Wife

Since Eric and I have been married, he has only coached at 2 schools. Rienzi and Biggersille are almost extensions of each other so its like it was only one. I had been a student at Biggersville and since we married 2 summers after I graduated, there wasn't much time for me or the school to change much before I became a part of it again through my husband.

I always kept the books for Eric's ballgames until sometime after Tess was born and I was able to finally convince Eric that I could not watch a 2 year-old and a 6 month old and keep the books at the same time. He thought I was more talented that I actually was. And apparently still had a notion that I could handle anything thrown at me because he moved me to the concession stand with said toddler and infant in tow. :)

As the years passed, more babies came, and I began to work outside the home more, I was unable to make it to all the ballgames like I wanted to. It just doesn't make a whole lot of sense to have young children out in the freezing cold (because most of the season is spent sitting outside at night in temps below 50 degrees) or to have them crying incessantly at home because they were sleepy when they had to take a bath at 10 p.m. because they had school the next day and we had been at the ball field.

We went to as many games as we could that coincided with the right temperature, location and my being off from work. This past year when we might have been able to participate more fully in being present to support our team, Granny came to live with us. We attempted to go to the games and just sit in the car a few times until it became apparent that while Granny did well on these outings, she became more confused after we came home. So, again, we became home cheerleaders.

I've struggled with this outcome and even though I have felt the decisions made were the best for our family, I have fallen into the trap of comparing myself to other coaches' wives. I know that some wives would never miss a game, no matter what the weather or how many children they have in tow. I know that some know all the players' names, their positions and their stats. Sincerely, my hat is off to them because I don't know how they do it. With homework and housework and a job, I am barely keeping up.

My insecurity about it finds me questioning Eric. "Are you really okay with me staying home tonight?" "Do you think I don't care about the team? Because I really do." "I hope the parents know that I don't just stay home because I don't feel like going."

Being the woman that I am, when he reassures me that it is okay that I am not there and that he agrees with me, I immediately question that too. "Is it not important to you that I am there?"

Yes. I have issues.

So now, as we venture to Alcorn Central with new people and a new team, my insecurities rise to the surface again.

I'm horrible at meeting new people. I have NO small talk. I try to just smile big and pray you don't think I'm stupid when I don't have anything to say. I try but the more I do, the more my mind just goes blank. I have trouble remembering names and it has nothing to do with how much I like you. And that's just when I am able to be present. I will hardly ever be able to come on campus. I'm absent more now than I have ever been because of Granny. I even have to miss some of my children's ballgames now.

I am doing the best I can trying to balance all the demands placed on me with the desires of my heart. So instead of listing all of the ways that I feel I may be falling short, I thought of the things that I can offer as a coach's wife.

I love my husband. 

Eric is a coach. While he is also many other things, the coach portion is one of the larger parts. Because I love my husband as a whole, that includes the coach part. I've never referred to myself as a baseball widow. I'm a part of his team as much as if I was a player or another coach. I listen. I ask questions. I comment. I am interested. I am engaged. I care.

When I don't get to go to the games, after the kids have gone to bed, I sit on the couch to welcome him as he arrives home and ask, "How'd it go?" I'll listen to his recounting of the game, inning by inning and then sit with him as he calls in the score.

How does that help you?  I understand that for a portion of the fall and from January to May, I will be on my own a great portion of the time. I hope that by being supportive of my husband in his calling and not complaining about the time he spends away from us helps him be the best coach he can be.

I love your children.

You see him at the practices and at the games but you don't see all the time he spends preparing. You don't see him talking on the phone with parents and grandparents about their kids. You don't see the hours he spends making cookie dough so that he can sell it to buy equipment for them. You don't know that he offers his time and expertise without renumeration for the benefit of the school and team. You don't see the hours he spends mowing, weed eating, and painting so that they can have a ball field to be proud of.

I think that your children are important. Their lives have meaning and are valuable. Eric's impact on them will be far-reaching so I feel that sharing my husband is worth it.


I love Jesus.

I pray earnestly for the administrators, the coaches, the players, the parents and fans. I pray for the other teams. I pray for the referees and the umpires. I pray about the uniforms that you'll wear. I pray for safety. I pray about attitudes and sportsmanship.  I pray for wisdom for all of us. So that we'll understand what is really important and what is not. That we'll stand up for what needs to be defended and know when to let something pass. That we would be thankful for the times we get things right, and learn from the times we get things wrong. That we would be honorable in the winning and in the losing.

You know those insecurities I mentioned? (I would have loved to have left them out of this post, but I'm trying to be honest here.) They seem to be my major struggle in life. Jesus is trying to work them out of me. But no matter how my head runs away from me, I know in my heart that He holds us securely in His hands.

Loving Jesus, however imperfectly I do it,  helps me love my husband and love your children.

Well, I'm afraid that is all. It is only 3 things but I promise to be faithful in them. And I look forward to the time that I get to know you all. You will be able to go from wondering if I'll ever talk to wishing I would hush up and let you get a word in edge-wise.

Restore, Chapter 6--I Do, Again

I am sure that the traditional marriage vows are familiar to you. Those were the promises that we renewed in our "Restore" ceremony.

Do you, ERIC take ANNA, to be your lawful wedded wife, promising before God that you will be to her a faithful, loving and devoted husband? 

Do you, ANNA, take ERIC, to be your lawful husband, promising before God that you will be to him a faithful, loving wife?

ERIC, with ANNA'S hand in yours, pledge to her your faith by repeating after me. 

I, ERIC, take you ANNA, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part.

ANNA, with ERIC'S hand in yours, pledge to him your faith. 

I, ANNA, take you ERIC, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer. in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part.

Why renew vows? Aren't these vows and promises supposed to be forever? Because they are forever, there shouldn't be any need to repeat them, right?

These are questions we asked ourselves before we did this. For myself, I might have said before that renewing vows was at the very least, unnecessary. But a girl can change her mind. Always.

The first time we said them (on our wedding day), without realizing it then, I thought that our romantic love would overcome any fault our humanness would display in our forthcoming forever togetherness.

I WAS WRONG.

If anything has shown through in our 15 years together is our humanity. For the most part, our romantic love didn't hold up DIDDLELY-SQUAT. Excuse my language.

When I was younger, I loved a good romance. If I could use a fictional character to describe myself, it would be Anne of Green Gables. My family members can testify to my semblance to Anne with an "e". My real life, while no means tragic (though Anne would have thought it much more interesting if it was), left something to be desired. It was easy to find what I desired in my dreams of the future. I mean, the story of Cinderella had to come from some real life circumstance, didn't it? People don't just make stuff like that up, do they?

I have taken the liberty to put in bold lettering all of the reasons that romantic notions aren't so great for a lifetime of marriage.

World English Dictionary

romance
— n
1.	a love affair, esp an intense and happy but short-lived affair involving young people
2.	love, esp romantic love idealized for its purity or beauty
3.	a spirit of or inclination for adventure, excitement, or mystery
4.	a mysterious, exciting, sentimental, or nostalgic quality, esp one associated with a place
5.	a narrative in verse or prose, written in a vernacular language in the Middle Ages,  dealing with strange and exciting adventures of chivalrous heroes
6.	any similar narrative work dealing with events and characters remote from ordinary life
7.	the literary genre represented by works of these kinds
8.	(in Spanish literature) a short narrative poem, usually an epic or historical ballad
9.	a story, novel, film, etc, dealing with love, usually in an idealized or sentimental way
10.	an extravagant, absurd, or fantastic account or explanation

I know that God LOVES some LOVE. He is the one who created those warm fuzzy-duzzies that we feel when we are around someone that makes our heart go from tick, tick, tick to pitter-patter, pitter-patter. But, frankly, the Song of Solomon has never been sung at my house.

I'm sure I'm not the only woman, whom while waiting to hear, "Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from Mount Gilead" from her husband when he returned from work, only heard, "I'm so hungry I could eat a flock of goats. What's for dinner?"

If Eric told me today, "All beautiful you are, my darling; there is no flaw in you." I would be hard pressed not to say, "Liar, liar, pants on fire." Because he KNOWS me and there IS flaw in me.

After a time, those same romantic notions that you had in the beginning that made your spouse a prince, can turn and make him out to be the evil villain. In one character you could see no wrong and the other no good. Both of those characters aren't real. I know. I've tried to make Eric both of them. And I'm sure that I have moved far away from princess status and closer to the evil witch than he or I ever thought possible.

So, as I stood there this time, repeating those words, it was without any romantic notions. We have lived, are living and will live REAL LIFE together. The kind of life that won't wrap up neatly after a central conflict.

We stood together this time, looking each other in the eye, echoing the promises that we made years ago, essentially saying, "I know the real you. I choose let the good mean more than the bad. And I promise to try harder than ever to be what God tells me to be and what I need to be for you and our family." I see now that while every married couple might not be compelled to renew their vows, Eric and I needed to say those things to each other again.

We can't go back. My love for Eric will never again be the innocent, worshipful kind that I had for him before. He can't go back and place me on a pedestal. I've realized that I don't want to "keep the romance alive". Romance hasn't been that good to me. But that doesn't mean that God can't give us a new love, His love--one that will knock our socks off.

⁴ Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; 

love does not brag and is not arrogant, ⁵ does not act unbecomingly; 

it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered,

⁶ does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; 

^7 [b]bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

⁸ Love never fails;

I Corinthians 13:4-8a (NASB)

Bro. Dennis charged us with this as the ceremony ended:

"ERIC and ANNA, may you be a blessing and an inspiration to those who observe the faithful fulfillment of your vows to each other day by God-given day!  Learn from the past, let it instruct and correct...but, live in the present!  That is where life is found...where love is tasted...and where a new future is forged as you walk together hand in hand  to face whatever is before you, confident that God will use whatever challenges you face to strengthen your love for each other, for your children, and for your God as you trust in Him to complete what He has this day begun.  Yours is a love story waiting to be lived!  Go...LIVE IT...without regret!!!"

Even though we insert our names into vows that are said by millions (or billions), we can't do that with our lives. There is only one Eric and Anna and it is best that we live our own love story, the one that God has made especially for us. In that story alone will we find our perfect fit and God's amazing plan.

references and acknowledgements:

www.dictionary.com
(Song of Songs 4:1-7 NIV)
Dennis Smith
Russ and Megan Johnson-Photo Credit

The Move

By now you have probably heard that, Eric, my husband, is leaving Biggersville. He has taken a position at Alcorn Central High School. He will be coaching baseball there, but he will be assistant high school baseball coach. Not head coach. I know that some folks were confused on that point. He will be coaching jr. high baseball and another sport yet to be decided. He will teach 8th grade history as well.

I don't think that it is any coincidence or chance happening that God would have me declare my love for Biggersville schools a mere month before I knew that we would have to leave it. I had no idea that Eric would accept a job at Alcorn Central when I wrote that post. The way we feel about Biggersville hasn't changed. Eric has been a coach at there for 18 years. During those 18 years he had many opportunities to leave and go elsewhere. But every year he chose to stay. Until this year.

To those of you who have, without asking why, told us that you will miss us but will be praying for us and supporting us wherever we are, thank you. Thank you for loving us that way. To those who honestly ask and listen to what we say, we thank you as well. We appreciate that you took the time to ask us why instead of putting words in our mouths.

We have had some folks congratulate us and in the following conversation they state something like, "Well, no one should fault you for trying to advance yourself." or "Movin' on up, aren't you?" Those comments are well meaning. They are wishing us success. I guess they didn't realize how it sounded.  We have heard another more negative observation. I won't repeat it because it isn't only hurtful to Eric and our family, it could be upsetting to the students that he taught and coached.

We would like you to know that we don't see this as a "step up". Eric has chosen to "step down" in a way.  He could still be head coach at Biggersville or somewhere else.  As I mentioned earlier, in the years that Eric was coach at BHS, on average he got an offer to go somewhere else yearly, to places that others would have seen as "better" than Biggersville. He didn't take them because he felt he was where he should be. He did what he thought was best for the students, the school, and himself then as he does now. The BEST place to be is always in the place where God wants you. Success is measured in more ways than with trophies and accolades. The investment in coaching isn't just in winning. The investment is in the child. To impart a character that shines in the winning and the losing. I know he wants to do this at Alcorn Central as an assistant as he did at Biggersville as a head coach. 

One of the good things that came from the responses to this move is that my heart and voice rose to defend my husband's choice for us. (I can talk about him but I don't want anyone else to. :)) I wasn't very happy with this decision at first. I cried and cried privately. I called out to God to ask Him to help me understand and to be able to move forward. I didn't want my children to hurt by having to leave their comfort zone, their friends, the teachers and the place they love. I had to admit that Biggersville was my comfort zone as well. Change is hard. But, in the process of "standing by my man", God helped me and I began to see the positives as well. 

Another valuable lesson that I hope we learn from this is how to respond to others' choices. It helps to be on the receiving end of criticism or have misinformation spread about you at times. "So this is what that feels like." I hope it will be mirror to help us see where we have failed in the past and how we can improve in this area in the future. 

Eric will be going to coach with Jarrad Robinson. Eric met Jarrad and his dad when Jarrad played at the park in his early teen years. Jarrad played for Eric on his Senior Legion team 15 years ago. Eric followed Jarrad through his college years and then his teaching and coaching ones after. He is excited about the opportunity to coach with his friend. He is looking forward not only to his coaching at Alcorn Central, but the opportunities he will have as a classroom teacher. His schedule, subject area and the grade level he will be teaching are suited to his strengths and tastes.

Please pray for us as we make this move. The children especially need your love and support. We have LOVED our time at Biggersville. We GRIEVED over the decision to leave. We will continue to MISS it for a long time. But now that the decision is made, we are EXCITED about what God has planned for our lives as Alcorn Central Bears.

Love Hurts

"Love hurts, love scars, love wounds and mars

Any heart not tough nor strong enough

To take a lot of pain, take a lot of pain

Love is like a cloud, holds a lot of rain

Love hurts, love hurts"

Love Hurts~Everly Brothers

I've been having trouble with my heart lately. It seems to be regularly breaking. Some of the reasons for the wreckage, sadly, are usual ones, but it seems to me, that even more grievously, that there are new reasons, coming from the places that my heart were supposed to be SAFE.

I've never had the ability to just not care. I ALWAYS CARE. Some of the problems are big ones but some of them aren't. Lack of confidence and a need to be loved have put me in such a place of vulnerability (both of these I realize are my own issues that need to be worked through), small things slay me. The offender may not even realize what they had done. Or if they did, why in the world would someone get upset over that? After the hurt, it takes so much for me to "put myself out there" again, but I try all the same.

Lately, though, I have to keep battling my reaction. I want to just shut up shop. Slam the door. Bolt the lock. Hang a message on the door that says, "CLOSED". Put my back to it and slide into the floor, and say, "There. You won't get me again."

To be honest, I have had moments where I sincerely considered running away--States-on-the-U.S.-map, away. After that moment when skipping town seems to be the only answer, the next moment reveals all the new hurt it would cause.

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket--safe, dark, motionless, airless-- it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable."

C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

Sometimes, I would probably wish for an "unbreakable" or "impenetrable" heart to save myself, but I know I've never and never will desire an "irredeemable"one.  

As always, I write these things when the pain is not as sharp and the days are not as dark. I don't have the ability to compose when the hurt is fresh. I have to wait for the scab to form and the scar to begin before I can have perspective enough not to just rant with my fingertips against the keyboard. 

I know I am not the only one. I am sure many of you feel alone at times, maybe often. I might even be the reason for one of those times of pain. If I was, I am sorry. It stinks, doesn't it?

The most important One that isn't a stranger to this feeling is our LORD. All through history, those that He loves so dearly, betray Him, deny Him, laugh at Him, ignore Him, blaspheme Him, lie to Him, and only run to Him when they need help.

As I reflect on this, being one of those that He dearly loves, and treating Him thus more often than I can count, I am thankful for my hurt. I am thankful that it slaps me in the face. That it draws my attention to my own sin, against Him and others. 

Isaiah 63:8-9

New Living Translation (NLT)

⁸ He said, “They are my very own people.
    Surely they will not betray me again.”
    And he became their Savior.
⁹ In all their suffering he also suffered,
    and he personally^[a] rescued them.
In his love and mercy he redeemed them.
    He lifted them up and carried them
    through all the years.

"Surely they will not betray me again."

But they do.

But He, the One True God, "in all their suffering He also suffered,":

"...personally rescued them. In His love and mercy He redeemed them. He lifted them up and carried them through all the years."

I'll keep my heart that breaks, in hopes that in it's brokenness, I will somehow learn to love as He loves. 

When Life Isn't Sunshine and Roses

In telling the story of Gran and I, I have tried to be honest and present things the way they really are but also, in the words that Bing and the Andrews Sisters sang, in life and on the blog, I've tried to "accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative, an' latch on to the affirmative" and not "mess with mister-in-between".



Well, I'm glad you enjoyed that piece because I'm about to deviate from that course of action to provide a little transparency.

I probably don't have to tell you that life isn't always sunshine and roses. It is easier when I write and then edit and edit and edit to tell you how it is all good, how I know that God is at work, and how appreciative I am of this experience. And honestly, I KNOW those things are true. Its just that here in my home, in reality and not on a computer screen with words, there are times I may not look like I KNOW. You might even say I look like I've never even HEARD of all those pious statements, much less believe them.

As I referenced at the end of my last blog post, I believe that God allowed me that rest on Mother's day weekend to prepare me for the coming days (or nights to be more exact).

The problems started on Monday morning. Granny was really confused and stayed awake in that state for 48 hours. On Wednesday night, she finally rested. Poor thing looked so peaked and pale on Thursday. She slept most of that day and all night that night. I thought we had turned a corner and that she would be much better after that. Not so. She slept a total of 2 hours (15 min increments) on Friday night and then slept a total of about 30 minutes on Saturday night.

Needless to say, by Sunday, I was not a nice, happy person anymore. Gran was better on Sunday but I could probably total the sleep and rest that I had for the week counting the hours with only the fingers of my two hands. No sleep=Anna-no-one-can-stand-to-be-around.

My nights had been filled with following Granny around while she wandered, answering her seemingly endless line of questioning, listening to her scoff at my answers, holding back hot tears, choking on my self-pity, begging God for at least 2 hours of sleep put together so that I wouldn't lose my mind.

Then the guilt:

I failed Granny. The poor woman didn't know that she had driven me to tears. She didn't know that she was keeping me from sleeping. She didn't know day from night. She didn't know that she had to be supervised all the time. She didn't know that I put her to bed 20 times at night. She didn't know that it was midnight instead of noon when she asked for a sandwich. She didn't know why she didn't want to finish it after I made it. She didn't understand why I didn't want to wash the dishes and let her dry after she was done.

I failed my family. I was short with my husband and shouted at my children. They didn't understand that I couldn't just go rest anytime I wanted. They weren't present for all of it to understand. I vented to my mom who can understand because she's been there and in doing so I made her feel bad for not being there more. The poor woman has no time to herself and I make her feel bad.

I asked for Gran. I wanted her to come here. I knew it would be hard. 

The same cycle began all over again yesterday evening. I think more of my fatigue at this point is mental. I fight the impulse to worry about tonight's rest or to be upset about something that I think will happen.

I know she is where she is supposed to be and that I am doing what is right by taking care of her. I love her. I know I want more comfort for HER and not for myself. I pray I change. I pray I rely on His strength and not my own. I pray that I can practice true selflessness someday and throw resentful selflessness in the garbage (because that isn't real anyway, is it?)

I don't write this to complain. I write this to let you know that it is a demanding, draining, difficult mission at times, and, that for now, those times are more often than not.  I write so that my fellow caregivers will see that when they feel like they aren't going to make it another night, they aren't alone in their struggles. It isn't easy all the time for me either. I write so that if you remember to, that you might offer up a prayer for us caring for our elderly loved ones. And most of all, I write to remind myself of what I KNOW.

Beautifully, after the darkest night, morning comes, I drink a strong cup of coffee, and everything becomes alright again. Gran laughs at me for looking so be-draggled and cranky and tells me I need to go back to bed. I laugh with her and say, "You know it." I make toast and know I'll be able to keep it together for one more day.

Then, like a balm for my wounds, Granny hands me her wrinkled, well-read (she reads it 10 times a day at least), paper copy of "The High Calling of an Everyday Life", and asks me if I've read it. I tell her that I wrote it. She smiles modestly, and says, "I didn't know I was that good." I give her a squeeze and tell her I love her. I thank God for one more night, even if it was a hard one.

Like always, God ministers to me through the songs of others. Right now this is the one that I'm feeling the most because, OH, how I need Him!

"Lord, I come, I confess
Bowing here I find my rest
Without You I fall apart
You're the One that guides my heart

Lord, I need You, oh, I need You,
Every hour I need You
My one defense, my righteousness
Oh, God, how I need you."

"Teach my song to rise to You
When temptation comes my way
And when I cannot stand I'll fall on You
Jesus, You're my hope and stay"

Matt Maher - Lord, I Need You Ft. Audrey Assad (Official Lyric Video) from matt-maher on GodTube.

Weekend Trip to Lawrenceburg--Part 2

Thanks for showing up for Part 2! If you haven't read Weekend Trip to Lawrenceburg--Part 1, hop on over there and do that now. Also, I forgot to post the link to The Amish, one of my favorite documentaries from American Experience. That film and my reaction to it deserve another blog post to themselves. Maybe I'll do that someday. But for now, we are finishing up our weekend overnight in Lawrenceburg, Tennessee.

That Sunday morning we woke earlier than I'd like. Oh well. (Someday, maybe I'll live with my granddaughter and she'll let me sleep in.) It is the way to make the most of your hours though. Eric is an early riser, ALWAYS.

We got dressed, ate the continental breakfast, packed up, checked out, and THEN..... we had nothing to do.

Sunday in a small southern town=everybody is at church, sleeping off the night before, or at Wal-Mart. As we drove down the highway, looking and thinking, we noticed that the restaurants were crowded. I guess everyone was giving mom the morning off.

There was one place that we had not been yet and wanted to see so we headed that way. The David Crockett State Park. Eric and I really like state and federal parks. They are one thing that I love for my tax dollars to go to. The park entrance is on the highway and it was on our way home. How convenient!

The park was SO BEAUTIFUL. 

We drove through it once to see what we could see. Shoal creek runs through the park. The covered bridge was picturesque (but I don't have any pictures of it.) There is a restaurant on the grounds that came highly recommended by the clerk at the Inn. It was busy on that Mother's day midmorn. I'm guessing brunch for mom. The camp sites bustled with activity. There was a beautiful lake with new cabins on the waterfront and a large dock from which a group of children was fishing. 

We saw several trails but didn't stop until we saw the one that said "waterfall". I'm a sucker for a waterfall. I had not planned on hiking, just shopping and being lazy. Thankfully, I had my Northface base camp ballet shoes. (No ankle support, but but much more comfortable for walking than a pair of flip flops.) So without knowing how long the trail was, with no map, provisions, or proper footwear, we set off. That's just the kind of hikers we are.

I did grab my bible though. I had felt God's presence closely the whole weekend with everything that we did. It was my turn to try and feebly return the blessings God had sent to us. So hand in hand, we set off down a hill. 

Eric says, "You know we have to climb back up, right?"

Such a sport. I smile and urge him on. 

The sun shown brightly, the birds were chirping, and I could hear the water in the distance. Pretty soon we saw this through the trees:

It was Shoal Creek, running along beside us. The further we walked the more the water roared. All of the sudden we left the veil of the trees for this:

And while I was admiring this, Eric said, "Come over here, Anna."

It was such a short walk. We didn't even have to work too hard for this!

Well, I just found a spot and made camp. As much of a camp that one can without anything but the clothes on their back, a bottle of water and a Bible. We sat there in the warmth of the sunshine with a gentle breeze caressing us. He was there, all around us beaming His love onto us.

I was so thankful for all that God had given us in these past hours. Now, He was showing out. He took us here to take our breath away. I know that there are more spectacular falls on the planet. I even realized after the first few minutes that some of this one was man-made. But it didn't matter. His glory shone so beautifully that morning, He could have made a dried-up ditch move me to be in awe of Him.

Ezekiel 43:2 says, "Suddenly, the glory of the God of Israel appeared from the east. The sound of his coming was like the roar of rushing waters, and the whole landscape shone with his glory." 

Psalm 19:1-4. 

"The heavens proclaim the glory of God.

    The skies display his craftsmanship.

² 

Day after day they continue to speak;

    night after night they make him known.

³ 

They speak without a sound or word;

    their voice is never heard.^[a]

⁴ 

Yet their message has gone throughout the earth,

    and their words to all the world."

If there was any way I could tell you all the things that have come into mine and Eric's lives in the last six months, you would be able to know the significance and blessing wrapped up in these moments sitting on a rock in a state park in Tennessee. 

It was a perfect end to our time ALONE (without children and grannies) in Lawrenceburg. We drove home "full up" with each other, and the Holy Spirit. I was ready to see my brood and check on Mama and Granny. So homeward bound, we went. 

We were renewed to face the coming week. Oh what a week it was! Did I mention I slid down a few feet of that waterfall trail on my backside on the way back to our car? It was God. He wanted to remind me, "You just go on holding My hand, Anna. You are going to need Me."

Weekend Trip to Lawrenceburg-Part 1

Well, while all of you were pampering your mothers for Mother's Day, I left my mama with my kids and my Gran and jaunted off on an overnight trip with my husband. We were gone a total of 28 hours but they were well spent and were just what we needed. We hadn't been away since after Christmas and with Granny here we don't get "alone" time very often. Mother graciously offered to come and stay at our house. Amelia and Dinah went to stay with and be spoiled by Papa. Ty and Tess stayed here at our house and got a break from helping out with the little ones. The arrangement worked out wonderfully.

We like to try and stay close to home when we get away so that we don't waste time just riding in a car and so we can get back quickly if needed. We thought we might get to stay in Pickwick but that didn't work out. So, we decided to go to Lawrenceburg, TN to check out the Amish scene. Sounds romantic, doesn't it? We had a wonderful time so don't rush to judgement.

Mom came over and spent the night on Friday night so that I could get good rest before we left out early the next morning. Eric and I went to Selmer that evening to go to their Wal-Mart and get groceries. We like to change up the routine a bit sometimes. :) On our way out of the store he wanted to look at the RedBox to see if they had a movie that Coach Daniel recommended. The box had it so we rented Parental Guidance with Bette Midler and Billy Crystal. It was really funny. I recommend.

The next morning we left out around 7:30 and began to mosey our way to Tennessee. We stopped in Savannah and had breakfast at The Toll House. It was our first time there and we enjoyed it. I would describe it as Savannah's version of Martha's Menu. The bacon was excellent and our waitress was attentive and nice without hovering too much.

With full stomach's we hit the road again with our eyes toward Lawrenceburg. Thankfully, we could listen to KLOVE almost all the way there. It's inspiring songs were the soundtrack for our countryside drive.

Before we got to Wayne county, I started seeing signs like Bigbie Ranch and Flat Gap Creek, Persimmon Lane. The fit the landscape perfectly as we passed grazing land with goats and long-horned cattle. When we weren't surrounded by rolling hills, we were flanked by beautiful layers of rock that had been blasted out years ago to make the road. It wasn't surprising to see the Wayne Co. Rock Company a ways down the highway where piles of different sized gravel and beautiful slate encircled their building.

17 miles outside of Lawrenceburg, we saw our first Amish buggy and team, traveling down the 4 lane. Even though there were no signs asking us to lower our speed, we had read online to make sure that we were watchful for the Amish travelers. The sides of the the highway had extra wide, shoulders. Buggy-wide shoulders, I believe.

The scenery changed and corn silos and wheat fields appeared. Then just before you enter Lawrenceburg, the highway narrows, becomes two lanes and curvy. David Crockett Elementary School welcomes you with a blue tin roof.

We went directly to the downtown area. We found it easily from the highway. After parking we walked to their square. The weather was beautiful, not too cool, not hot. In the center of the roundabout inside the square is a gazebo. As we walked, I heard fiddle music. We found out later that they were playing bluegrass music in the square every Saturday in the month of May. These men were just setting up for that. We antiqued all morning to the sounds of a bluegrass band. 

We headed toward Ethridge, TN to tour the Amish community around noon. We stopped at The Amish Mall to get a map of the farms and the goods they offered. We had read about that map when we researched the trip on the internet. The map is just a pencil drawing, but it helped us greatly. Each farmhouse is numbered and at the bottom of the map the numbers are listed with the products that each farm sells. 

Before we set out to the farms we did some more antique shopping and then we ate at Country Mill Restaurant. There was a buffet of country cooking at which you were served your choice of meat and vegetables. I got a barbecued chicken breast and Eric got country-fried steak. The food was delicious. They did bring me sweet tea instead of unsweet, and seemed too busy with the customer load to come by and check on that. Maybe if we hadn't been there when it was so busy the service would have been better. 

With full bellies, we set out on our Amish adventure. We drove slowly with our windows down, making the most of the experience by absorbing as much of the setting as we could. All of the Amish houses were white farmhouses. Some of the ones that we stopped at sold their wares from the porches but others had set up small sheds by the road. They sold things like furniture, tack, candy, baskets, hats, quilts, baked and canned goods, tomato stakes and small garden plants. We bought fresh bread, butter, peanut brittle, chow chow, "pool room" slaw (like a hot mustard slaw), small cedar sticks for my dresser drawers and closets, and small bead bracelets for the girls. 

Before we left we looked at several options for a hotel room. After some research online, I found out that the only places to stay in Lawrenceburg were motels. I haven't stayed in a motel since high school. I am not really thrilled about the doors facing the outside instead of inside a secure building. We said that if we didn't like the looks of things we could always drive to Florence that night and spend our Sunday there. After seeing Lawrenceburg, though, and scoping out the most recommended motel, we decided we wanted to stay there. We checked into the Richland Inn that afternoon and could not be more pleased with the room considering the price we paid for it. It was clean and had everything that we needed. It was quiet and I never felt unsafe.

After resting a bit, we hit the highway again to find a place to eat supper. We just drove until we saw a restaurant that looked like it might be good with a lot of cars in the parking lot. Those parameters took us to the Kuntry Kitchen.

 Ok, I've already revealed my snobbery with the motel experience, so I guess it won't surprise you that I also have preconceived notions about restaurants that use K's where C's should be (This one misspells the word entirely). Also, "fine dining" alongside a catfish with a top hat and cane don't seem to go together. We knew from the motel that my prejudices could be wrong so we gave it a try. We had the recommended catfish and it was mighty "fine". So, I guess they were right. Their other specialty was onion rings and I regret not having any. Maybe I'll make it back to Lawrenceburg to get some. 

The Crockett Theatre was right across the street from the Richland Inn. We saw that they were showing the movie Home Run. I had not heard what the movie was about except for it being a baseball movie that had a great message. The movie wasn't released in all theaters so we were glad for the opportunity to see it. It made me laugh and cry and think and feel. I encourage anyone who loves a good movie with a good message, to go see this movie. Here's the trailer:

It was a lovely ending to a beautiful day. 

I'll fill you in on our Sunday morning in another post.

(My favorite Antique stores were New Moon Antiques and Arts on the square in Lawrenceburg and Rusty Nail Trading Post in Ethridge, TN.)

The Pride of Lions (Humbly So)

Last night, we attended the Biggersville Elementary academic awards program and sixth grade promotion ceremony. My children make me blessed AGAIN this year. Ty had his awards program the other day during school. Granny wasn't well that day so I didn't get to go. He did really well also.  

   

But this post isn't to brag on my children. This post is to tell you about our wonderful school and the people who work there everyday to make it so. 

When I was in the 8th grade, I joined the students at Biggersville. I transferred after the school year had begun. My mom was a teacher there but I still didn't know many people. If you know anything about me, you know I was incredibly shy. I remember entering class that day, and all eyes turning toward the door and to me as I walked in. This shy girl didn't have to stay scared for long because I was immediately "embraced" by my classmates. 

It was different there than it was at my old school. On break, all of the students (7th-12th grade) intermingled in the hallway. It didn't seem to matter who was an upperclassman or who wasn't. No one cared what kind of jeans the other person wore. No one cared how much money your parents had. The students seemed to judge one another by who they were and not by their material possessions, what important relative you could claim, or even by the color of your skin. 

I graduated there, I worked there in the summers and I married a man who became a teacher there. As the years passed I became more and more vested in the school. 

After our children were born, I began to think about where they would go to school. We went to church in town, lived in town, and most of the children's friends would be going to Corinth. My younger sister and brother graduated there because my mom was a teacher there. I knew Corinth and the other county schools had better classrooms, better labs, better sports facilities and more arts programs. They offered a wider array of subjects to choose from beyond the basic, required curriculum. Several families that I knew who lived in Biggersville school district and were BHS alumni, chose to send there children to other schools. I became confused. I wasn't sure that Biggersville had enough to offer my gifted children.

When I complained about the science lab that was two times older than I was, when I complained about no drama program, when I complained about the fact that there was only one Spanish and no other language option, when I ranted about the fact that the school received nothing the other schools got, Eric reminded me that I went to school there and that I wasn't stupid as a result. He reminded me of the degrees held by many of the classmates I attended school with.

When it came time to send Ty to kindergarten, we had already decided that we wanted him to be with his daddy. All of the teachers seemed to already love my child. They were excited about him coming to be at school with them. I had heard nothing but kind words about Ms. Melanie and Ms. Janet. It was a good thing. 

As the years have gone by and 3 of our 4 living children have gone to school there, we have never regretted keeping them "home". They have been loved and nurtured. My children aren't limited here. They are challenged in ways they couldn't be elsewhere. They are building character. 

I love the fact that they see each other at school all day. With one class for every grade, they have shared teachers and the same 2 hallways for all these years. Ty is "across the road" now at the Jr./Sr. high school. He has some of the same teachers I had. Some of the teachers were my classmates. 

Recently, the Mississippi Department of Education announced that Biggersville High School had been awarded a Bronze Medal on the "Best High Schools Rankings". 

Read how U.S. News and World Report arrived at these results:

"A three-step process determined the Best High Schools. The first two steps ensured that the schools serve all of their students well, using performance on state proficiency tests as the benchmarks. For those schools that made it past the first two steps, a third step assessed the degree to which schools prepare students for college-level work."

(I am including the criteria for only the first two steps because the third step was inapplicable for Biggersville.)

• Step 1: The first step determined whether each school's students were performing better than statistically expected for the average student in the state. We started by looking at reading and math results for all students on each state's high school proficiency tests.

We then factored in the percentage of economically disadvantaged students (who tend to score lower) enrolled at the school to identify the schools that were performing better than statistical expectations.

• Step 2: For those schools that made it past this first step, the second step determined whether the school's least-advantaged students (black, Hispanic and low-income) were performing better than average for similar students in the state.

We compared each school's math and reading proficiency rates for disadvantaged students with the statewide results for these student groups and then selected schools that were performing better than this state average.

According to the report, 73% of Biggersville's total enrollment is "economically disadvantaged". Eric and I are in the other 27% there. I would describe us as "economically breaking even" as I am sure most of the other 27% would describe themselves as well. 

"The Poverty Factor" refers to Georgia public schools but Mississippi ranks higher than Georgia on the list of children living in poverty in the state at 32%.

The worst-performing public schools tend to be in the poorest zip codes, while most successful public schools are in more affluent zip codes. The dropout rate of students in low-income families is more than four times greater than the rate of students from higher-income families. In Georgia, economically disadvantaged kids are about four times more likely than their higher-income counterparts to score below standards on the almighty CRCT (Criterion-Referenced Competency Tests).

The report from U.S. News and World Report shows that Biggersville is bridging the gap. Being "economically disadvantaged" doesn't mean you will automatically be "academically disadvantaged". That is something to be really proud of. 

These results aren't because we have better classrooms. because we don't. These results aren't because we have better materials, because we don't. These results aren't because we have the best science labs, because we don't. 

These results come from community, hard work, and a WHOLE LOT of LOVE. 

To be a teacher anywhere and make a difference requires a lot of personal sacrifice. I know. I am from a family of teachers. I don't want to make less of teachers everywhere. But I suggest to you from the statistics from the report that the teachers at schools like Biggersville are going above and beyond the call of duty and that statistically speaking, MORE of their students have LESS. These teachers are doing MORE with LESS resources. This requires MORE of them to achieve these results; MORE SUPPORT, MORE TIME, MORE PATIENCE. They also get LESS thanks or at least thanks of a different kind. I would be surprised if an expensive piece of pottery or gift cards to nice restaurants land on their desks very often. (They might only get a long blog post dedicated to them from a sincere heart. Yes, a very different kind of thanks.)

These are just a few of the faces that make a difference in my kids every day. (These teachers were such stars we couldn't get to all of them to get our pictures made.) They do it everyday, month after month, and year after year. When I describe Biggersville to people who aren't from here, I always say, "It's like a small private school, except everyone gets to come." I often cry a little when I say it.  

Our children are to be taught at home, first and foremost. But often, the world around us wants to confuse what we have been taught at home. I saw what my parents taught me in action at this school. I pray my children see what we have taught them there as well. 

-You may not have what everyone else has but you have enough. Your achievement depends on your own personal work ethic and determination. 

-Everyone gets a chance to be your friend. You don't exclude them automatically because they aren't like you. 

-People are more important than things. Possessions do not define you.

-Always remember Whose you are and always strive to make Him proud.

-Rejoice in how far you go but never be ashamed of where you came from.

-You don't have to "go big, or go home". Being small or doing small things makes a big difference sometimes. 

-You can always come home. 

Kossuth and Corinth High schools were awarded the bronze medal as well. The percentage of economically disadvantaged at Kossuth High school was 50% and at Corinth High School, 52%. Biggersville does not offer AP or IB courses therefore were not scored on college readiness. And if you would like to argue with me about the difference in the resources of these schools and Biggersville's, I would love to accompany you on a tour of all three schools.

(Bronze medals: An additional 2,515 high schools that passed the first two steps in the methodology were awarded bronze medals and are listed alphabetically. A bronze medal school either does not offer any AP or IB courses, or its college readiness index was less than the median of 14.8 needed to be ranked silver.)