Summer Through the Treetops

 There's a small grove of trees in the entrance to Lakefront Park where my son plays soccer on Saturdays. The cool shade they cast reminds me of where I picture picnics in the deep south were held, before air conditioning. Ladies clutched paper fans to combat sweat-soaked corsets and ruffles while fried chicken and watermelon were passed in wicker baskets. 

The next day I squinted as I walked out of the wide brick church in Balsam Lake, Wisconsin. Hot morning sun already poured over the peaks of a row of tall pines bordering the parking lot. I took a deep breath... fresh off of prayer and cabin air. 

And today I gathered my fourth grade class under the shade of big cottonwoods framing the school property. Giggling, we chased each other with dixie cups full of water playing 'Drip, Drip, Splash.'

They say things happen in threes, and my attention has drifted three times in the last few days in the direction of trees. Maybe it's just hot and I'm grateful for shade. Maybe it's a transitional time of year, and I'm clamoring for the presence of stability and physical safety. Or maybe I'm just real boring (If my seventeen year old self knew I was posting about trees...sheesh....)

Yet I can't help but think back to a few years ago. We were knee-deep in the throes of secondary infertility. To calm my impatience and frustration with God's timing to grow our family, I went for a walk in the small woods path in our neighborhood. As I gulped the humid air, I looked up towards the sky. The trees overhead formed a perfect circle around a patch of blue above. And it reminded me of the beauty of hope. Of stopping and listening and waiting for God's perfect timing in all things. 

As we transition to summer schedules, and roles and patterns shift, I will be soaking in conversations with friends- picnicking under the grove at the park. Breathing in rays of sun in God's yard, and giggling with kids in the shade as they revel in the coolness of splashing water. 

Oh Happy Summer. 

Pave Your Own Way

I can tell I haven't written in awhile when I start narrating my own thoughts, like June from the Handmaid's Tale.

On the way to work:

 {There they were when I turned the corner. A half dozen wild turkeys, sprawling across the road like they owned it.  I carefully maneuvered my car around them, catching the biggest one’s eye. He followed my gaze as if to say “ya got a problem?”}

 And so I write…

I was reminded this past week of my senior year in high school. Realizing I had conquered all the classes I needed and desired to graduate, and unwilling to take filler classes that I had no foreseeable use for, I went to see my guidance counselor.

“Well, what do you want to do?” the amazing Mr. Fritze asked me. I suddenly realized that all I wanted to do was start working with kids. Having made the choice to be a teacher in third grade, I’m one of the lucky ones who has never doubted my vocational direction.

“We can make that happen”, he relied with a half smile.

 

I look back on that experience with empowerment, having been taught that sometimes all it takes is expressing what you want. I could have easily just sat back and filled my schedule with any classes- on autopilot for the typical suburban high school experience. Instead I left that office feeling heard, and excited to begin realistic career training.

 

I love just about everything about being a teacher, yet the last few years have left me feeling constrained. There is so much I want to improve in the field of education. Some of you have heard me ruminate (sometimes ad nauseum) about the things we need to change about state testing, breaks, and trauma-informed practices.

 

With much prayer and family consultation, I have chosen to take a year leave from the classroom for the 2021-2022 school year. After waking up in panic and nausea for a week straight at the thought of even a year break from what I love, I made peace and am now ecstatic to embrace this next year.  

 

My plan is to complete my trauma certificate and research the effects of play and nature on kids with trauma. Please let me know if you have anyone to connect me with in these areas!

 

I also get to drive my kids to and from school daily, as any parent/educator knows is a luxury we have sacrificed for the rigidity of school hours. I can’t wait to see that sweet face on the first day of Kindergarten. (The big seventh grader will be pretty sweet too.)