Good thing He loves me

This morning I'm getting on stage at church to invite people to our adult baptism class.

Being publicly baptized is to totally humble yourself to God as you accept Jesus into your life.

In the class we talk about that. I have had some of life's best moments with God in that class and then in this water.

But, in the back of my mind, I can't help but want to sell it using this photo and the slogan,

"Get yourself into some hot water with some handsome men for God!"

God? Are you laughing at that one?

Probably just shaking your head at me, like You often do.

Or do I?

I always used to joke,

"I only run if I'm chased. No one chases me, therefore, no need to run."

Ha ha ha.

Then I a few years ago, when I was in the throes of my super slender phase, I decided to try running. On my first outing, I could barely run driveway to driveway. So instead of running, I jumped rope every day for about three months.

That Christmas, Mac bought me a book on running. I remember saying,

"Oh no, now I have to do this!"

I went to the local running store to get fitted for good shoes. I felt like a fraud, but they were so encouraging--to the point I felt I was being drawn into a cult.

In February, I hit the streets.

I ran at either 5:00 AM or well after dark.

I knew I looked like a total klutz,

so no need for anyone to I.D. me.

My goal was to run our church's 5K in April.

First time out that second time around, I could run three driveways...

A few weeks later, the night I ran what I knew was a mile, I was ecstatic!

One mile! I'd never been able to run that far in my life.

I remember one time, I was running, and I thought, "God, I can't make it another step," and a wind came up and like a hand on my back, it pushed me forward.

By late March, I was doing it, running three miles every outing.

One mild spring night, though he was "totally out of shape, Mom," Mac went "running" with me, but he was able to walk the whole time. Still...

Three miles!

(Let it be said here, I never enjoyed the running, but I always enjoyed having run. I felt accomplished.)

Two weeks before the race, I pulled something called my IT band (my brother the jock's diagnosis--from my description of a muscle strain that reached from my butt down through my calf) halfway out one morning--of course halfway out, so I had to walk back home in pain. Jeff (the jock) told me to not wear heels at all until it healed. Hm.

A week without running, though I did wear heels to work, and it got better. I got back to three miles for a few days.

The Sunday before the race, I contracted 48 hour stomach flu. Feeling better by Wednesday, I returned to school, but I didn't attempt to run until Saturday's race.

I did finish, and I didn't finish last of the pack. However, last of all my friends--most definitely, but that gave me a cheering section as I ran "like Phoebe" across the finish line.

I don't think I've run since.

So why, ever since I saw a post-it note on someone's desk at church,

"Kingdom Run 10/17,"

have I been thinking about it all again?

Family Photos Friday

We got together at the "Normal" Stewart home (they live in Normal, IL) on Sunday. All my siblings were there, so rare, but they weren't feeling photogenic--so mostly the young ones were snapped.

Brock loves his daddy's buns. My brother Jeff and sister-in-law Amy Jo and fam.

Check out Jake on his tiptoes 'cause he hates being the shortest.

Check out his wife teasing him right back.

All Al and Alice's grandkids.

Yes, Jake's on his tiptoes in this one too.

I love thinking of how my mom and dad would beam over this group. Oldest nephew Jake and his bride Jessica, up from NC for the weekend.

Al, my niece.

Okay, Mac doesn't like this pic of him and I don't like it of me

(do you see why I tag pictures of myself "disappearing eyes"?),

but we are together, and so I love it!

Speaking of together! :)

I tease him that his hat looks like Jiffy Pop.

Remember Jiffy Pop?

Nephew Luke and his girlfriend like-my-niece-Krista.

Two people with sweet hearts that happened to have found each other.

Nutty and Brock.

My "niece dog" as Mac coined her,

and the youngest nephew, but not the shortest.

It was a day of "washers" and "bags."

Trust me since you can't see either.

Brother Jeffy and his son Jake.

Sweet dog Nutty. She started to go grey at two, she's nine now.

With apologies to my facebook friends who have already seen these...with apologies to the rest of you because I've posted so many...with apologies to Nutty with whom I'm obviously in a battle of whose-brunette-hair-is-greying-the-fastest...with apologies to my son who never likes any pictures of himself...and so on!

Words for a Wednesday

"The Lord is first,

My family and friends are second,

and I, I am third."

In my own words,

more of Him,

more for them,

Less about me.

This is my constant struggle.

Question of the Week

After working in elementary school this long, having an elementary school student (feels like yesterday) and being an elementary school student (so long ago), I've seen a lot of fads come and go. Kids, like adults, covet stuff.

When I was in fifth grade, we were nuts for stickers.

This was before they were easily found in every store.

When Mac was in fifth grade, his peers were on the hunt for Beanie Babies. Remember that madness?

My first year teaching, many kids were totally into The Spice Girls dolls and Titanic--which had just come out on video (DVD's were still somewhat new then), but was not appropriate for them.

This spring, the fad of the moment is:

glitter filled balls.

Every girl seems to have one or wants one (the boys couldn't care less.)

So...

This week's question of the week, what was the hot fad or what thing were you clamoring for in fifth grade?

Hard to recall?

I always tell my kids what a fad is, and then I add an e to the end of the word because a fad will fade.

Remembering

For those who have died in service to our country,

today we are asked to remember.

They did not give their lives.

Their lives were taken.

May we offer some moments today to pray

for the safety of all who are in service of our country.

May we pray for their families.

As we hold tight to the idea that freedom isn't free,

may we pray for peace.

There's a hole

I'm sitting here this morning, trying to wake up and thinking about the salad I'm going to make to bring to my brother's for a family party.

More of us will be together today than have been able to gather in a while. Mac is not working, and our nephew Jake and his bride Jess are coming up from NC.

But, in my anticipation, I'm sensing a gap. Even though it's been years, it's weird to get together with family and not have Dad there or Mom. I mean, I'm used to it I suppose, but I notice it nonetheless.

A gift of service...

Yesterday, we all walked to the Elder Day Care Center.

We spent some time singing songs and some time planting flowers.

The flower planting was hilarious. Have you ever heard of the expression, "too many cooks..."? Well at one table, we had too many gardeners--they each knew how they wanted things done and none of them had the same idea.

Still, I look forward to driving by over the summer when I'm in town to tutor and seeing these little impatiens spilling over their planters' edges.

More so, I look forward to creating a lasting relationship with this great non-profit organization and visiting them with next year's fourth graders.

Teacher Gifts

(My friend Tina asked me for teacher gift suggestions, and then Laura wrote about it at Catholic Teacher Musings, so I kind of had help with this concept--

but the list is all mine.)

At this time of year, some thoughtful parents and students are looking for end-of-year teacher gift ideas. It's nice to be remembered with anything, however here are some of my all time favorites:

1) A note from the student and/or parent. I keep all of those, and I will reread each and every one someday. I have a special box reserved for such written expressions. They are the best!

2) A gift or service to charity, and to me a letter describing it. Last year I got some great ones, from Judah, Melanie and Chasen. See, I do remember.

(International Justice Mission, Peyton's Fund, and Hesed House.)

3) Gift cards to bookstores, restaurants, or in my case--Crate and Barrel--those always bring a, "Yee ha," albeit a silent one.

4) Annuals for my yard.

5) Things for the classroom, bean bag chairs, books, stickers, or games for rainy day recess. No, they may not seem like gifts to me, but since I spend my own money on such things, they really are!

6) The longest lasting gift I got was from my first class, a tall director's chair personalized by each one of them (and there were 29 that year). I sit it in to read aloud every day. My kids are always fascinated at the signatures of those who came before them.

7) When one resourceful mom takes up a collection, a small amount from each family, that can make for a special gift. That same year I received a gift certificate to downtown Naperville good for great stores and lots of restaurants.

8) Note paper. Alec gave me a pad of paper so thick and groovy that I had it all of last year and well into this year. On the last sheet, I sent another thank you to his mom (let's face it, moms do most of the picking).

9) Chocolate.

Need I say more?

10) I once had a mom joke she was going to give me a case of diet Pepsi, and you know what? That would have been okay! (Diet Dew would be too!) Simple pleasures!

11) Another mom and son gave me three bottles of Bath and Body Works hand soap. At first I found it curious, but it was really practical, and it lasted forever, so I wound up loving it!

12) My friend Annemarie has been known to give her kids' teachers scratch off lottery tickets. I did this when Mac was in H.S. and he got the funniest thank you notes in return. Quite the bang for each buck.

13) Added Thursday, 5/21, after showering...salon quality shampoo and conditioner. Two parents have presented me with "curly" products. Thoughtful and practical, gotta love it!

This year, a few weeks back, a super generous mom had me fill out a questionnaire asking what my hobbies were, how I planned on spending my summer days, where I like to eat out, etc. I just found that so thoughtful--it doesn't matter what she and her daughter may choose for me, that ask was a gift in itself. They want to know me, and I found that touching.

And an aside...Gifts to avoid:

Coffee mugs

Paperweights

Apple crap (anything "teacher-y)

Candles (only because one of my friends got 17 one Christmas)

Bubble bath or scented body lotion--I've pretty much an "unscented" gal, and so I usually regift this type thing to a friend or donate it to a thrift store right away. Plus, who has time to soak in a tub?

Words for a Wednesday

Ring the bells that still can ring.

Forget your perfect offering.

There is a crack in everything.

That's how the light gets in.

--Leonard Cohen

Thankful for...

On Sunday, I was having a blue day, I don't know why because it was a gorgeous day. Plus, I'm an "otter" and this kind of feeling is rare for me--which makes it harder for me to deal with.

I like life to be fun.

When I'm not an otter, I'm a "lion," and I like to control things. So in my effort to loosen the restraints of control (as if I'm in control of anything) and turn to God,

I started talking to Him, and He got me listing my blessings

(as I drove to CVS to get some black licorice...)

Here's some of what I came up with, some that I've been counting ever since:

1) Bradford and our marriage

He makes my heart sing and he makes me smile and feel loved each day.

He tells me I do the same.

It's so good to know.

I so enjoy getting to know him, it will take a lifetime.

2) Mackers

I love every memory of him and every moment of him.

He loves me unconditionally.

And I him.

We learn from the perfect times and the imperfect times.

3) My job

It's a good and important one.

4) Writing

What a gift to be able to reach out with words.

They're communicative, cathartic, enriching.

It matters to be able to share even the picayune stuff of life.

5) My home

It's such a comfort to me, just to be here.

6) Books

I plan on reading about 30 through the summer.

7) The Internet

I know lots of experts comment that the Net is causing people to grow farther apart, but it's brought so many good people into my life lately,

I'd need more than two hands to count them.

8) Laughing

Oh my gosh, if I didn't laugh at least once an hour, my heart would hurt.

Most often I'm laughing at myself, and not because I'm hilarious, but because I do stupidly funny things.

God laughs too, I'd bet on it.

Is it wrong to wager on God?

9) Education

A lot of folks pooh-pooh learning, but it's valuable beyond measure.

I am blessed to have had the opportunity to go to college and beyond.

10) Crying

When my body tells me to cry, I do, and I almost always feel better.

11) My mom and dad

The were the best they could be for me, and their hearts shaped mine.

12) Community Christian Church

Sunday mornings come with a welcome

13) My friends

An amazing and eclectic group of people--

they are always there to listen,

to laugh,

to support. defend me

and to graciously tell me when I am wrong.

They are true blue in the best sense.

14) My co-workers

From the office staff to the custodian to my teacher peers,

I cannot imagine a more cohesive and caring group of people to spend my professional time with.

They are all more creative than can be measured, patient than can be tested, and I learn from them, without fail, each and every day.

15) The need for reading glasses

So I cannot see the small print that lists calorie counts and nutritional information when I do something like, oh I don't know, down a bag of candy in one sitting.

16) My relationship with Jesus

"I am a friend of God..."

so that on rare afternoons like Sunday, when I feel bluer than I can fathom, I am comforted by His closeness, by His assurance for forever love, by His shoulder to cry on, and by his provision of all the things listed above and all those too many to list here.

"Brandon Kitchens"

This week we'll start studying the United States Civil War, and so as I've worked on lesson plans, I've been thinking about Brandon. Please read this post, originally an Email I sent to friends last summer before starting this blog, and even if you don't usually leave a comment, consider doing so.

Children's literature is rich. I find, other than the Bible, I value children's books more than adult books. I read them to Mac when he was younger, now I read them to Brad because he loves a good story, and of course, I read aloud to my kids as often as I can.

If I could impart one gift to my students, it would be that they become lifelong readers. So I hope to entice them with books that stir them. Each spring, while the kids are learning a bit about the United States Civil War, I read Patricia Polacco's Pink and Say.

Each time I take it from the shelf to share, I inhale and say a little prayer that I can get through it without tears. Not because I will be embarrassed to cry in front of my students, by spring they have seen this many times due to good books, but because I want them to hear and feel this story.

It's the story of two young boys, no more than 13, who are fighting for the Union. Pink is black and Say is white. Polacco enmeshes so many important details and ideas into this little picture book; I encourage you to read it the next time you're in the kid's library or a bookstore. It will grab at your heart. At the end of the book, Pink and Say are captured and taken to Georgia's Andersonville Prison where they are separated. Polacco explains that Say lives to a ripe old age and continues his family line which she is part of, but she tells us that Pink was executed that very day.

At the end of the story she asks that the reader say Pink's name out loud to remember him in place of all his descendants who never were.

We do.

Mac used to say his name with me—sometimes he'd have to read the end of the story for me, my voice would break too much to be understood. When I read the book to my husband, through tears he too said "Pinkus Aylee," with me. My kids, all of whom are such intent listeners to this particular story, say his name.

This year during read aloud, as I neared the part when the boys were taken to Andersonville, I remembered a promise I made last July:

remember Brandon Kitchens.

Brandon was playing soccer one evening in an intramural game in Chicago. He collapsed on the field, and at first his teammates thought he was being goofily dramatic because he had goal tended poorly in the first half. They soon realized something was wrong.

A young woman, Nicole, who was studying to be a nurse was playing on the adjoining field and she rushed to administer CPR. Brandon died. At only 24 years old he was an Air Force veteran who had served three tours of duty to Iraq and Afghanistan. Brandon was a fanatic Chicago Fire fan, he was working for the Chicago 2016 Olympic committee, and he was headed to Northwestern University in the fall.

He was my son Mac's good friend.

Mac told me once that he loved Brandon and looked up to him as if he were the brother he never had.

A few days later, as I sat behind Mac at the beautiful funeral for Brandon where Brandon's dad read words that stirred us all, I learned he was to be buried at Andersonville Veterans Cemetery. I told myself I would tell my kids about Brandon this spring when we read ­Pink and Say.

So I remembered.

And this year at the end of the story, we said two names out loud.

"Pinkus Aylee."

"Brandon Kitchens."

Now it's July again, and I've been thinking about Brandon. Mac's been missing him every day, and he's now at the point where we can say his name and the sting isn't quite so sharp. I expect that layer of pain will always be there, but it's being shaped into something good. I believe though Mac lives with this loss every day, he is steeling himself for the anniversary.

So I ask you to pray. Will you?

I ask you to pray for Nicole who expressed great dismay that she couldn't save Brandon's life.

I ask you to pray for my son who is living with depression, that he take Brandon's zeal for life and make it his own. We talk about that, and it does give him comfort.

I ask that you pray for Brandon's mother and father, and for those who loved Brandon, I know they will feel your words to God.

Brandon flew to Heaven on eagle's wings. God reclaimed this son with great love. Perhaps the blessing of this is that I can speak to my son, a non-believer, about a gentle God in Heaven. Because Brandon believed, Mac will listen.

Oh, and it moves you, simply say Brandon's name.

It is good that he is remembered.

"Brandon Kitchens."

Sometime during this week, I will again steel myself, put a "do not disturb" sign on my door, reach for this favorite book, gather my kids around me, and read to them.

At its end, again, we will say two names.

I will tell the story of Brandon's loyal friendship to my son.

From you I ask, even if you only know Brandon through this post, please leave a comment here--if just to type

"Brandon Kitchens."

Brandon's mom visits my blog, and she has told me she sometimes feels as if she's the only one who remembers Brandon.

She knows this is not true, but still, let us all remember Brandon.

I have included a photo of Brandon leading cheers at a Fire game. It is said that some players wore black armbands for him, he was such a fan.

The lighthouse picture was given to his friends after his funeral.

Blast from the Past

Mrs. Bird's class of 1970-71 brings you:

Horrible Haiku Friday!

(Can you find me?)

**********

Fifth grade memory

Dressed like the Brady Bunch kids

'Cept those boys in suits

**********

Such a strong word, but...

So yesterday, I was driving to work when I found myself stopped behind a Dodge Ram pick-up truck whose license plate read, "IHATEGM."

It was a long red light, and I found myself thinking there must be a story there. Vanity plates cost more than random plates (so guess which type I have) to renew each year, and I was thinking this guy must really dislike GM in order to ante up extra bucks every 12 months.

Hating requires a ridiculous amount of emotion, and I just don't do it. Life is too good and too short to emote in the extreme negative.

So, I tend to use the word hate for things that irritate me. I can't think of anything I really hate, but I thought I'd make a list of things I "hate," just for fun.

I don't think any of them could be condensed to fit on a pithy license plate!

I hate...

1. coconut

2. cooked fruit (technically "baked" as in pies and such)--can't stand the mush factor

3. knee-jerk apologies--you know, "Say you're sorry..."

4. seafood (but I'm learning how to make sushi--I'm so hip!)

5. "Respect," by Aretha Franklin. I could live happily and never hear that song again

6. people who throw things in the trash when they could be recycled-- okay, I don't hate the people, just the behavior

7. when a good song comes on the radio just as I'm pulling into the parking lot at work

8. four-way stop signs during rush hour

9. DAYS spent eating like a healthy little bird and then getting on the scale to find I've GAINED weight!

10. hypocrisy, especially when I'm the one who is guilty of it

11. the Mommy-mill

12. drivers who don't merge as soon as they're told and then cause a horrible bottleneck--okay, again, I don't hate them but I am irritated by their bad manners

13. people who hold negative opinions of me when they don't take the time to get to know me--if you really know me, and you decide you don't like me, I'm cool with that!

13+ I have to say it...my thighs!

Isn't life GREAT when this is all that I "hate"?

Words for a Wednesday

"...take note of this:

Everyone should be quick to listen,

slow to speak

and slow to become angry..."

--James 1:19

NIV

Fave Grade?

If you know a Louise White School student, keep this to yourself for a while...

Two weeks ago, I learned that after 11 years in 5th grade I'm moving to 4th grade next year. Though I requested this change, I have mixed emotions about it, but most of them are positive tinged with absolute delight. It is time for a change. My peers have said many encouraging things about this move, and I find I am looking forward to it.

Looking back on my own elementary school experience, I remember not particularly enjoying fifth grade as much as fourth for a number of reasons.

So this week's question of the week:

What was your favorite year in school?

Dear Diary, or a quick catch-up

(Blogger is giving me fits!)

A few random events from Sunday last to Sunday tomorrow. Add to that, Blogger won't let me move photos after I've uploaded them, so see if you can see which

photo(s) from above go with which text below!

Sunday--

Our church has something like 8 campuses throughout Chicagoland, and our campus meets in a HS aud. This week we learned the school district is kicking us out for the summer months while they do some renovations. Where will we meet all summer? Congregation Beth Shalom! How is that for grace across the faiths? I'm excited to teach next month's baptism class in a synagogue.

Tuesday--

We finally started reading aloud The Mysterious Benedict Society. It grabbed the kids from the start, but it has over 450 pages, and we don't have that many days of school left. So, whenever we can, we squeeze in some read-aloud. We have gotten though 100 good pages so far! We can make it... Wednesday--

My student Chris's grandma came in to share an antiquity with the class, a dinosaur egg. It's from China, tens of millions years old, and it weighs about five pounds. Since I'd never had such a thing on my desk before, I thought a picture was a good idea! And, no, the phone isn't there for some weird ancient to modern artsy juxtaposition statement, it's meant to show scale!

Thursday--

Not only does the world laugh in flowers, our lunchroom did too when $2500.00 dollars of annuals were delivered to our school. Student council helped distribute them, and we raised over $600 for our at-risk reading program. My best girlfriends, Gail and Betsy, and my husband came to help. We're thinking it's going to be an annual, no pun-intended, event!

All week--

This was teacher appreciation. Neck massages were offered, a breakfast cart came classroom to classroom (on a morning my pants were so tight, I had to make a meager choice from the bounty of treats), pizza was purchased for Friday's lunch, and some of my students wrote me these notes. They were a delight to read, and they're headed for a keepsake container I keep for such things. (I have 24 students, so obviously only a third opted to do this, but I was tickled by the few who did, especially surprised by a couple of them!)

Tomorrow, Sunday--

Mother's Day. I woke up fiercely missing my mom yesterday. That was out of the blue. So here's a picture of one of her owls and a snap of a snap of her and my dad holding Mac when he was about 14 months old.

I love you Mom. I will see you again, until then, I will miss you.

When you care enough...

...to send the very best.

My husband tells me I am fond of trinkets and treasures. Secretly, until now that is, he is too. (I am outing you Bradford!)

The evening of our "second" wedding (read: the one we had people come to), we sat on the couch and he read each and every card people had given us. He cried some, and he kept saying he was picturing each person as they stood and selected the perfect card. He thought each card, save one, was THE perfect card.

It was such a sweet time of reflecting on our day and thinking of our friends. I have to admit though, in the past cards hadn't quite moved me much before. Except for sympathy cards, I tended toward simple verses or funny cards.

So I was surprised at the importance he tied to them.

Now I know why he was so moved by those cards, because at each important personal holiday he does the most tender of things. He goes to Hallmark, and he reads each and every card until he finds THE perfect one. How do I know this? One, I'm the recipient of such cards, and two, last May I went with him when he purchased his daughter's Mother's Day card.

For some reason, he was on one side of a display, and I was on the other. I couldn't see over the wall o' cards, but after a while, I heard this gentle sob followed by an exhalation of breath from where he was standing. I said, "You found Jill's card, didn't you." He was quiet, so I walked around to his side, and with tears is his eyes and tissue in hand, he said, "Yes."

I always feel loved by him, and it was special (a different kind of Hallmark moment), to see how much he loves Jill because the card so stirred his emotion.

He has written memorable love letters to his daughter; she shared one with me the last time I was there. And he writes sweet little notes to me all the time. But in the area of choosing cards, he is Mr. Softee.

Now, when he gives me a card, I ask him if he cried when he picked it out, and he always says no. So I ask him to read it aloud to me, and his sweet tears bely his no.

I love that about him.

Getting Back to Normal--Post H1N1 Style

I teach 5th grade in Batavia, Illinois, a western suburb of Chicago. Our middle school was closed by the county health department due to a proposed and then confirmed case of H1N1, and then our high school was too. The middle school is meant to re-open today, and the high school re-opened yesterday. Both schools will have been closed for four days due to flu concerns.

Over half my kids have older siblings who stayed home, sleeping in, as my kids came to school every day. Fifth graders, of course, found this to be totally unfair. You know what? They were right. We are a unit district, and so my middle school and high school peers had a four-day paid vacation from school while I was teaching. That’s unfair too.

But I always tell my kids life is unfair. Now we’ve lived it. We did just fine. Seriously, how much thought do I give during my school day as to what’s going on in other schools? Truth be told, none.

Here are some other by-products of flu in Batavia:

~Much less traffic during rush hours with no high schoolers and no middle school parents rushing to get across town.

Bonus!

~Hundreds of phone calls coming into each open school’s office every morning.

Stress for our overworked secretaries, for sure.

~Elementary teachers shooing away visiting alumni.

“You’re not supposed to be at your school or any school!”

Bu-bye!

Always leaves us feeling like ogres.

~Custodial services shared by El Ed teachers—we’ve been wiping down tables, door handles, keyboards, water fountains…

We've got mad skills!

Well, at least we're helping our man Tim who is also already overworked.

~A shortage of substitutes, moms who don't want to leave their middle school kids home alone.

Can't blame 'em.

~Kids who were absent with “flu-like” symptoms are being made to stay home for seven more days.

I want my Betzy back!

~Chapped hands! I have washed my hands and used hand sanitizer about 20 times a day for over a week now.

Can you say "sandpaper skin?" If you were here, you could hear them rub together...

~Lots of paper towel use as the kids have all been doing the same often washings.

Sorry Mother Earth.

~Painting!

On Friday of last week, I had six kids absent (running scared?)

So we did a wonderful math/social studies/art project all afternoon.

~Frustration.

In the past, I have had stomach flu travel through my room to the point of wondering which child will be felled next. Could it be, just maybe, this was way too overblown? Or did we stop the transmission by keeping 3000+ kids home?

The world may never know.

Words for a Wednesday

The Earth laughs in flowers.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Skimming the Surface

As you might know, I started this blog at the prodding of girlfriends last summer. It actually started as a series of Emails I sent to my girlfriends, and then when I learned to use Blogger, I switched to this format.

My friends would say, in the beginning, how they enjoyed my "deep thoughts," and this freaked me out--I knew I'd run out of deep. So one day, I went shallow (okay, I exposed shallow--it didn't take any effort).

I wrote about some healthy treats I had discovered lately, how cool it was to be carded at 47 while out with a childhood friend, marveled at losing 15 pounds yet still fitting in the same jeans (shouldn't I have been swimming in them?), listed the simple pleasures I was enjoying in summer, and this:

"Here's another confession. We all make typos, but I will admit I am too easily bothered when people make the following mistakes in writing:

1) Using more than three dots for an ellipsis (...)

2) Misuse of me/I (some people tend to think "I" sounds more correct when often it's just wrong)

3) Confusing the definitions of imply and infer.

Cranky, aren't I?"

Then I asked my friends to write back,

"Go ahead, write back and share some pesky shallow thoughts with me, I invite you to!"

I got lots of pesky, funny, shallow thoughts back from my fun-loving and picky-as-me friends, but the wildest thing about this, one woman whose blog I used to read decided that my admission of my being too picky about typos was all about her.

She was furious with me!

She said I was an uptight teacher who needed to relax and focus on the "important things in life."

I couldn't help but recall, she had written a blog post about the need to follow pedicure rules before wearing sandals.

Heck, why worry about things like English grammar and the like when there are people out there with chipped toenail polish and crusty heels?? Really, what's more important?

Remembering all this makes me (laugh and) ask the question for this week:

What shallow thought is plaguing or entertaining you right now?

Nun=sense

My newest friend Laura, at Catholic Teacher Musings (http://www.teachermuse.blogspot.com/), tells us today is World Prayer Vocations Day, and since (duh) she's Catholic, she asked her fellow bloggers to post about a favorite priest or nun. Since I'm not Catholic, (double duh), I asked if it was okay that I post too.

She was all for it, even had a nifty pastor graphic made, only I AM writing about a nun; not one of my current and influential pastors.

As I've thought about this Sister for the past few days, I've been inspired but kind of sad because I cannot remember her name. No, it's not because she was my teacher during my one year of Catholic school (first grade, and yeah I was raised Catholic) so long ago, she was a teacher of mine at the local community college. My life's best teachers were there, but she stands out in my memory.

I stink at math. Okay, after 11 years in fifth grade, I rock at fifth grade math, but overall math and I are not friends. When I went to College of DuPage, I enrolled in Math 110, beginning algebra, and I earned a C. I wasn't happy with that, so the following quarter I took a HS review class in order to strengthen my math skills, and then I planned to retake 110.

My sister was my 080 teacher.

Well, she was proud to tell us she had a master's in teaching and a master's in math. Since I was 20 and just starting college, I was pretty impressed by this--the idea of a master's seemed so unreachable. But soon I was more impressed by the fact that under her thoughtful and gifted instruction, math made sense to me, ALGEBRA, made sense to me for the first time ever. Whatever wave-length she was on, I was riding it with her. I was so confident in my skills, I was helping other students in the class.

I was having fun in math!

Because of my Sister.

Now as a teacher who is aware of God with her in moments during each school day, I am convinced my Sister prayed for us all each day as she readied herself for school. The feeling in that room was so nurturing, so loving, and the other students were so respectful of her. Everyone could tell she cared. The atmosphere was different from the rowdiness of the other classrooms, she created a peace.

So, almost 30 years later, it would be swell to tell you I went on to minor in math. Not to be. When I retook 110, I still earned a C. That teacher was probably the worst I'd had for math, she droned on at the board and lost many of us early on. Don't even ask about when I had to take trig later in my college career.

But, this is about my Sister. So I will tell you a few years later, I waited on her at Marshall Field's. Actually, I saw her looking in a case half the department over, and I rushed to her to tell her what a difference she had made in my life and in my math confidence. I told her I knew with the right teacher, one just like her, that math could make sense. I told her with her, math had made sense for the first time ever. I told her she made me feel less stupid.

She smiled the sweetest smile, she thanked me for my words, and she said, "I am on a sabbatical from teaching, and I'm not sure I'll ever go back. Your telling me this is something to take to my heart."

I was stunned that she could have left something that was feeding others, and I'm pretty sure I begged her to return. I don't know if she did.

As I told my husband the story for this post yesterday, he cried a bit, and he told me that was one of my early God moments along the journey to where I am now. It is amazing to think that the one person who created clarity out of variables was a true servant of God. I'm so glad Laura suggested I write this. I so wish I could remember my Sister's name. I would guess she's with Him by now or preparing to go. I know He will look at her and say, "Well done my good and faithful servant."

Ahhhh...

After feeling stressed out and puny for weeks, and actually being sick a couple of times, I had to get moving today. So instead of pushing through some boring indoor routine, I took it easy and walked. After only about three miles, I'm back home and my legs are doing that, "Hey, thanks for using us again," twitch.

Hey, slow and steady is better than a potato on the couch, yes?

It was glorious!

(Pictured above, some walking gear. Though I'm not a Mickey fan, he and my dad were born the same year and I am a huge fan of my dad--his birthday would have been this Monday. So I wore the '28 for him.)

Horrible Haiku Friday

Last week, my friend had just returned from a state reading conference when she read my post. In case you don't read all the comments friends leave here, I'll share the Haiku she saw on an attender's T-shirt while there:

Haikus are easy

But sometimes they don't make sense

Refrigerator

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Now for a little bit of my own horrible

(I've been sick again, so no pics with these, just no time):

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The media flu

Closed our middle and high schools

El Ed is tougher stuff?

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Kids who avoid books

Perplex me to frustration

They must feel a void

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Fifth graders in spring

Think they're so cool but they're kids

Small fry again in 6th

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I love my hubby

Without me asking for one

He makes me grilled cheese

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(An awkward homage to my husband who has been taking care of me so well while I've been sick!)