Autumn Newness

Autumn has arrived in eastern PA. The wet leaves stuck on my deck have yellows and reds and the nights are getting colder. I'm in a new place. A grandmother. A new school. A new grade. I'm older.

I like where I am in some ways, but as with gains, losses mean farewell to past loves. I mean, leaves down mean the green canopy at my house that shields us from the highway is over for the year and we'll see those cars buzzing by. A new school means a longer drive...and familiar colleagues I don't see. A new grade fills file boxes with fourth grade materials I can't use anymore. And you know the losses of aging....THAT list is too long...

Being a grandmother (a Gigi, I prefer) has no downsides. I surrender being young and supple for the cozy feel of powder-smelling Maddie clutching my neck or shrieking her babbles in the next room. It's a trade-off I'm glad to make!

Yes, I miss my teacher friends across the river. Nothing will replace them. But like leaf piles and apple cider don't happen unless it's autumn...new friends don't come unless there's a little vacancy in your heart. New students' smiles remind me that the heart of a child is precious even if he isn't as needy as my former kiddos.

Autumn is tugging me to listen to it's value. I'm opening my sunroof tomorrow to let the leaves fill my car!

The Summer Buffer Season

As school ended in early June the financial chaos of the school district where I work scattered teachers to other buildings to fill in for retirements rather than lose positions. We expected it...I guess I was buckled and ready for the ride if it came. It has come. After 5 years teaching in an urban school among a classroom full of a wonderful rainbow of tans, chocolates, mochas and brown faces where my own pale drab stands out....I am being placed a grade lower at the other end of the academic and socioeconomic spectrum across town.

Tears dripped from the farewells of my deepest soul all to myself as I sat amid boxes of personal things in my cleaned out room where a day before hugs and autographs ended our year. Most other teachers were gone, the building hot and quiet. I locked the door of DO104 one last time and packed my car. No more a Southside teacher. What was I now?

The summer is my buffer between what was and what will be. A new granddaughter and a couple masters classes, a week at the beach will all help direct me to the newer me. But I'm a little lost.

Hopefully the time to garden, weed, water, listen to the birds and count the kinds of butterflies this year will slow me down enough to still the threat of fear that I won't be able to rise to the new occasion., to tackle the new mountain.

Is there advice to be had from those of you going /gone through a similar switch in the game? I need a bit of help in this buffer season when the thoughts of Fall drift in on a cloud. I'll be watching to see what you have to offer....in between marking down the butterflies.

Weddings, ...and Laughter

I am a serious and sober-mindedly bent person. And because of it, I've always been mindful of protocul and decorum...and equally drawn to those who can let fly in the face of it.

Weddings should be meaningful. And happy.
Pastor Suler said at R and P's that it "should not be entered into lightly or unadvisedly." I agree. Theirs wasn't. But look into their faces here. They also know it will take some lightheartedness. It took me about 15 years into my own marriage to start to grasp that!

If you were part of their wedding day, you know they have mountains in front of them, like many newlyweds. A baby soon. New jobs. A cozy apartment. Trying to find a new church congregation that will embrace them and be their heart family. I pray. And I smile. God is good. SOOOO GOOOOD. He will be there in it. That's enough.

New Seasons

Christmas is over. And though I find it easy to strip my house of the red and green by the afternoon of January 1, the pretty white twinkly lights tug at my heart and seem "appropriate" for long winter nights even through the romantic Valentines days of mid February. See, I am drawn to the excitement of the next, new season (which pushes me to get old season things packed away to make room for new), but my nostalgic self clings to the certain pretty parts of seasons passing that make it hard to take down, wrap up and close the box lid .

My only daughter got married last weekend. She and her new husband are very in love and though, like all of us, they likely have struggles ahead , I have a confidence in their faith and the way they stare into each others' souls that this is a sweet, uncommon match.

I'm finding scattered amidst Christmas things a lot of old photographs she was sorting through to prepare a slide show for the wdding. They stop me from this cleaning up and I find in them the crux of my dilemma...how can the new season of Empty Nest, We-Can-Do-Anything-We-Want-Now compare to the rich days of crooked lost-tooth smiles? Those days are gone. Done. Box closed. No matter if I wanted to linger in their twinkly lights for just a bit longer. (sigh) I loved being a mom. I knew how to do that.

As I stare at the stacked boxes in our bedroom, I remind myself there are many new wonderful unknowns ahead and I always feel better when the old is sorted and put out of sight. Dancing with my husband at her wedding I felt the stir of a new era and it was a great feeling of freedom. Maybe Hawaii together in 2011. Getting to know a grandchild. Finally finishing my Master's degree.

I guess when I get the boxes all to the attic the Spring will come eventually and my momentum toward this newness will take wings.

For now, I kept out one picture of a long haired three-year old sitting in the middle of a teddy bear collection...and I left the twinkly lights on the garage.