Author: mdannels3

"Laughing, Loving, Praying" is the story of a happily married couple -- parents of four, three sons, more dogs than I can count, travels, moves, laughter, tears, and most of all.....faith. Faith in God and faith in each other. It is a story of growth, loss, pain, and celebrations. It is us. It is me. It is all because of Him.

The Right Kind of Guy

On By mdannels3In Thinking about Family, Thinking about GodLeave a comment

Okay, it’s time to come clean. I’m on a diet. But, not really.

Instead of being on a diet, I’m on a quest to live a healthier, more active life. I have been having some success with counting calories using an App. It also counts my steps and reminds to move. I like it. I’m independent in my journey, yet I’ve asked someone to provide me with some accountability. She is; I’m thankful.

All of this is to tell you about a Sunday evening, a few weeks ago. The App I am using divides foods into green, yellow, and red. Red foods are 1/4 of my daily allowance — so, not much. I have to plan for them and honestly, I don’t mind doing that. Thinking about what I eat is good for me. It’s certainly better than me going to the fridge, pulling the door open, and grabbing whatever I can find because I’ve got the nibbles.

Anyway, that Sunday. I had my usual breakfast and a fairly light lunch with my men at Red Robin. I purposely chose a salad for lunch so that we could splurge that night and go to the yummy ice cream store and buy a delicious treat. After we got home, I did some school work the men watched football and I waited… Actually, I wasn’t really watching the clock, but I was most definitely looking forward to being told we were getting ice cream. Finally, after 8:30, I came out of the bedroom, looked at the clock, and said I guess we wouldn’t be getting ice cream.

I had leftovers from lunch in the fridge, but had planned to have them the next day at work. Everyone else had eaten supper. I hadn’t and I was hungry.

My sweet husband was so troubled by the fact that I hadn’t eaten that he offered to make me something…. so I let him. He asked what I wanted and I suggested scrambled eggs and leftover potatoes from a day or two earlier.

A while later, he gave me my dinner.

It was delicious.

This is not an unusual story at our house. Mr. Gorgeous has always been a thoughtful and considerate guy.

In my fourth grade classroom my students keep a “Thankful Journal.” During the first week of school, they created a numbered list of 50 things for which they are thankful. Then in writing, they are assigned a number, they search their list to find out what item that number corresponds to and they write for five minutes to explain what they have listed and why they are thankful for it.

Today, one of my boys asked if we could write in the Thankful Journal. Rule of thumb, if a boy asks to write something, you say, “YES!” immediately. I did.

I keep a Thankful Journal right along with my students. Today, I wrote about Mr. Gorgeous, aka, John, my guy, my husband, partner, pastor, and friend.

As I wrote, I realized that there are so many things to be thankful for. Not just his kindness and leadership, but also the way he works to make my dreams come true. His selflessness is truly a blessing to our sons and to me. He supports us in whatever we want to do. He provides encouragement, care, and even resources.

As I’ve watched our boys become men, I see their father.

I see compassion and love, responsibility, caring, gentleness, confidence, and capability.

There were many things on my “husband wish list” before we got married. Thankfully, I found a man with the character that reflected God.

He is the right kind of guy.

He’s the kind who is strong and who knows where his strength comes from.

If I had a daughter, I would tell her to look for the right kind of guy. The guy who reflects the God who made him and the God he serves. That should be non-negotiable.

That’s the RIGHT kind of guy.

Dressing In the Dark

On By mdannels3In Thinking about GodLeave a comment

 

 

 

Have you ever gotten dressed in the dark and realized you’d made some…. um, interesting choices?

When I taught in Colorado, I dressed in the light — a very dim light — and I managed to get to school with black slacks and navy shoes. I noticed at 2 or 2:30 in the afternoon — school got out at 3:15. Another day, I got to school wearing navy pants with one black and one navy shoe. I noticed at noon.

Today, I got up, dressed in the bathroom so I wouldn’t wake my husband and realized I forgot to choose my earrings. I knew what pair I wanted and I knew where they hang on my earring rack. I went in the bedroom, grabbed the earrings and my things, headed out the door, got in the car and put my earrings on before I started the engine. I never checked a mirror. I taught all morning and quickly ran to the bathroom after lunch, but I was in hurry and didn’t even check the mirror. After school, I stopped in the bathroom before I left for the day and looked in the mirror. Yes, both earrings are crystals, but one is 1 and 1/2 inches long while the other is 3/4 of an inch long. Oops.

No one said anything — had they done so, I would have removed them both. What’s weird is that my fourth grade students didn’t say anything — and they notice EVERYTHING, especially when something is wrong.

Oh well… lesson learned. Until the next time.

As I think about this, I realize that I am often inattentive to the details in the world around me. Honestly, that’s not that unusual. Many of us miss the details.

God’s capacity for detail is enormous.

I am thankful that even though I miss the details, there is One who never does. There is One who sees all, understands all, and best of all, knows all.

That is an enormous relief to me.

One school of thought says that there are two kinds of thinkers — linear and global. According to SocialMettle.com, linear thinkers see the trees before they see the forest, while global thinkers see the forest before they see the trees. I’m a global thinker — I see the big picture and many of the details are ignored. Not intentionally, mind you, but ignored all the same. There are days when I would love to be a bit more linear in my thought process. I’ve learned to be functionally linear, but I have to work at it. I still miss trees now and then — like this morning.

Yet, God’s capacity for detail is enormous.

God even knows the number of hairs on our heads. (Luke 12:7, Matthew 10:30.)  He counts the stars (!) and He calls them by name. (Psalm 147:4.) In fact, He has engraved each one us — you and me and all of the people that we love and all the people they love, and the ones they love, and on into eternity — on the palm of His hand. (Isaiah 49:16.)  Now THAT is capacity for detail.

On those days when I’m wearing the wrong colored shoes or two different earrings and feeling silly and small or foolish and insignificant, God knows me. God sees me and best of all, He loves me.

My friend, God knows you. He sees you. And yes, He loves you.

On those days when you feel small or unnoticed or even worthless, God knows where you are and He sees you. He feels your pain and cares for you. You may feel alone, but you are not; He is with you. And those details that seem so overwhelming and overpowering? Don’t worry about them. He’s got this and He’s got you.

I’m the Mom…

On By mdannels3In Thinking about Family, Thinking about God, Thinking about Relationships, Thinking about SchoolLeave a comment

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In our boys early years, I would sit down before school started each year and write a letter to each of their teachers. The boys delivered the letters to them during the first week of classes. It was our way of letting the teacher know that we were going to be involved parents. (Teachers probably thought we would be helicopter parents — I  don’t think we were that bad!) But more than that, it was an opportunity to introduce our children to their teachers. We knew that these handsome little boys would be faces in a crowd and we wanted to give them the best possible start to their school year.

The oldest’s letter went something like this:

“As the oldest of three boys, he is a very responsible young man who hates school, but if he trusts you, he will follow you to the moon and back. He has traveled to many states, seen many amazing things, visited numerous museums, and as a result, is curious about how and why things work. Learning is hard for him. He will ask for help — but only when he’s desperate. He’s hard on himself and thinks that things should come easier than they do. Please be patient with him.”

The middle son’s letter was different:

“This boy taught himself to read when he was four. Learning comes easily to him. He has a photographic memory, is fascinated by WWII, and can explain how submarines work. If you tell him what you plan to teach, he will come to school the next day knowing more about it than you can imagine. He will challenge you — if you misquote a fact, he will correct you and often, he will be right. He is a perfectionist and is very hard on himself. We are trying to help him find balance. Your job will be a tough one, but we believe in you and will pray for you. Keep in touch with us and we will help as we can.”

The letter for the youngest was different still:

“You will find that he is a kind, caring, and gentle young man. His goal in life is to make people around him laugh; we apologize in advance because he’s good at it. He knows how to behave, but may need a gentle reminder or two. When he gets “tickled” he will laugh until he cries — often slapping his leg in the process. He does imitations of adults, movie stars, cartoon characters, and yes, teachers. He learns fairly easily, reads voraciously, loves CALVIN AND HOBBES, and cares deeply about the people who surround him. Honestly, for him, relationships are far more important than learning or grades.”

Like all parents, we knew that our boys were very different young men. They still are. Like all parents, one of the fascinating challenges we faced was helping each of our boys to succeed in the areas where he had ability. While growing stronger in areas of strength is important, we also tried to stretch them and help them to challenge themselves — to find new areas of interest, and to determine new abilities. More than anything, however, we wanted our boys to see God as a loving Heavenly Father and to make the decision to love, follow, and serve Him. We still want that.

As the mom, I love to look back at pictures from our yesterdays: baby pictures, school pictures, holidays, vacations, and everyday snap shots. I often “paint a picture” in my mind of the growth of each of these young men, and sometimes I wonder if we did enough. Was there sufficient laughter and play balanced by times of hard work? Did we travel, learn, and create enough? Was our time together as a family valued? Did we spend enough time together learning about God and serving others?

Naturally, we weren’t perfect, but the pictures remind me that maybe, just maybe, with God’s help we did okay. We see the men they have become and we are proud of them and the choices they are making. Are we disappointed sometimes? Of course, but they are good men — men of character and strength.

These men of character moved from the “little boy stage” to young boys in classrooms, at music lessons, in libraries, at Church, in Sunday School, and in our home — wherever it might have been. Many, many people helped us as we worked to raise them. There were teachers, pastors, Sunday School teachers, Youth leaders, friends and friends’ moms and dads. Ultimately, we are the ones who are responsible for the way they were raised. We were careful to choose people who we believed would love our boys for the  people they were and the men they could become.

That’s why we wrote the letters. That’s why we prayed for their teachers, friends, friends’ parents, neighbors, and the church members who surrounded them. It’s why we prayed for the ones they would love and choose to spend their life with — and it’s why we still do.

Being the Mom is a great honor and privilege, but it is an enormous responsibility — one I wouldn’t trade for anything. This whole Mom thing is one of my favorites, no matter how old those boys get!

A Thankful Teacher

On By mdannels3In Thinking about Family, Thinking about Relationships, Thinking about SchoolLeave a comment

Yesterday was THE day. It was my “D” Day. Okay, maybe it was my “C” Day — my classroom day. It was the first of two workdays to prepare my room for the arrival of twenty-four children who will bring with them noise, energy, questions, answers, ideas, and creativity. Our district has us pack everything away so that the room can be cleaned. Bulletin boards were covered; desks and counters were cleared. It was a barren space.

Yesterday we began making it look like a classroom again — specifically, my classroom again.

When I say we, I mean WE. Us. My own work crew: my family.

That afternoon as I walked away from a classroom that has bulletin boards moved and redecorated, textbooks open and sorted, flyers copied, folded, stacked, and readied for kiddos and their parents, things sorted, moved, tossed, refilled, and a space that is looking welcoming again, I realized that it never would have happened so quickly had I not had the amazing energy and help of my family. And it’s been like that for nineteen years.

As a teacher, I have so much to do. Everyday in the classroom brings work, work, and more work. Days are long — and they don’t end when students exit the building. The stressors are many — legislators, administrators, parents, children, and obligations outside of the classroom.

But that’s only a VERY SMALL part of it, because more than anything, there are the things in this world of education for which I am grateful.

My family — husband and sons, parents, sisters, brother, nieces, and nephews — have all offered support and encouragement as I entered into a new profession with three children at home. I remember when Mr. Gorgeous, the boys, and I were sitting in Wendy’s in Spearfish, SD while on vacation as we told our boys that I was returning to college to complete a teaching degree. Their first response was, “Cool, can I be in your class?” What an amazing response and even today, I remain thankful.

As I worked on my BA, they tolerated requests for quiet, let me practice teaching  them, and critiqued my ideas. (Honestly, the five year old always gave interesting suggestions.) Later, I completed my MS. Again, they were quiet when I needed them to be, served as “lab rats” of a sort as I completed my reading specialization. My husband cooked, folded clothes, herded children and a dog, and helped keep house. Even today, when I get  ready to start a new school year, the boys ask when they will need to be in the room to help get it ready. John saws, builds, cuts, laminates things, picks up fast food, and reminds me to sleep. I could be a teacher without them, I suppose, but it wouldn’t be nearly as easy or half as fun. I am thankful.

When I went to work in a middle school there was a man who taught in the room next door. He became my unofficial mentor. His ideas and leadership were amazing. There were my friends with whom I taught — men and women who gave me ideas and helped me be a better teacher because they challenged me. And today, I work with a team of educators who are amazing at what they do — who help me be a better elementary teacher, who laugh with me, and who encourage me to be a better person. I am thankful.

So far this summer, we’ve made approximately 2,000 trips to our local stores, and at least 1500 visits to Amazon searching for and purchasing exactly the right things for my classroom. Okay, I’m probably exaggerating a little bit. Still to complete my classroom set of composition books, I needed two more. I am thankful for the dear person who sent a giant bag of school supplies to our school, because in the there somewhere were two compositions books and I was saved another trip to the store. It’s not only that generous person, it’s the kind, thoughtful people at our own church who filled four backpacks for our neighborhood school. There are people who bring extra tissue boxes to schools for classrooms full of kids with colds and allergies resulting in runny noses. And so many more… these people — these caring people — make being a teacher manageable; they are some of the many ones for whom I thankful.

And then there are the parents. The parents who prepare their children for school, help them with their homework, and make sure they get the sleep they need. There are the parents who purchase supplies for their child’s classroom. Things like board games, neon colored whiteboard markers, bags of pens, pencils, markers, and crayons, extra paper, and still more tissues — things that make being a teacher a little bit more fun and whole lot easier. Oh yeah, did I mention the Coffee House Gift Cards? How could I be a teacher without my Chai? Yes, I am grateful for parents who see a need and meet it; those who provide support for teachers, schools, and their child. I am thankful.

Of course, I can’t forget my students. The well-behaved and the ornery, the ones who learn easily and those who struggle for every single lesson learned. There are the ones who challenge me daily  with their behavior and their mouth, those who always need to have the last word. Then, there are the ones who bring a dandelion bouquet to their teacher on the first day of school or the jar of flowers from their yard. They are the main reason I do what I do and I am thankful that they share their days, curiosity, and energy with me. I am thankful.

Yes, being a teacher has it’s challenges, but there is SOOOOOOOOO much for which to be grateful — and I am.

I am thankful.

 

Someone Stole My Summer!

On By mdannels3In Thinking about SchoolLeave a comment

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Someone stole my summer!

I mean, it was early June and school had just let out. I cleaned my classroom, attended the last staff meeting, checked out of the building, and my summer began.

We took a short trip and came home. I worked on projects — most of which I didn’t finish, had lunch with a friend a few times, went to District Assembly with our church, attended a workshop, dealt with some medical issues, and worked with a district committee…

And somewhere in the midst of all that, SOMEONE STOLE MY SUMMER!

Suffice it to say that on Monday, I will be back at work. Then, the day after Labor Day, 24 bright, talented children will invade my classroom and invariably, they will move right into my heart.

I’ve discovered that being a teacher is really a strange balancing act.

You see, we accept the loan of other peoples’ children to teach, encourage, train, and challenge. While they are on loan to us, we love them. And, honestly, when they leave us, we still do.

The balance in the love/hate relationship is found in the joy of teaching on one side, and in the reality of it on the other.

The joy of teaching comes in the sweet smiles of kids. It comes when a child who has worked harder than they ever thought they could looks at you with a smile and says, “I got it!” There are the times when the two children who have been fighting for days walk back into class asking if they can sit together. It happens when a child accepts responsibility for a choice — or for their own learning. The joy doesn’t end there, either. It continues as those kiddos grow up, as they “friend” you on Facebook when they get older, or they give you a graduation picture, an invitation to college graduation, a wedding invite, or a baby announcement. Mostly, for me, the joy is felt each time I realize that maybe, just maybe, my influence and love went beyond the classroom and into their life, wherever it leads them.

The reality of teaching hits you in the face every summer when you realize that you are headed back into the classroom for those 50 hour weeks that you wouldn’t trade for anything… but, you know you’re already tired even though the school year hasn’t started yet. There are, of course, the realities of the supplies that have to be bought, that you can’t make everyone happy, and that sometimes the patience will run out before the shenanigans do.

Teaching is just like any other job. There are good days and there are bad days. But, because of the children, MOST of our days are good.

Every summer, I sit down to assess and try to determine ways in which I can make my school year better than the one before. Every school year, I walk into my room filled with optimism and enthusiasm. While I’m there, every time I’m there, I will give it my all. I will work harder than I thought I could and I’ll walk out the door the last day of school exhausted, but knowing I gave it my all.

Honestly, I’ve worked in schools in five different states and 100% of the teachers I’ve had the privilege of working with felt exactly the same way I do. We believe in what we do. We believe in the power of education and we believe in your child.

Parents — the best thing that you can do for your child this year as he or she heads off to school, is believe in them. Give your child the gift of your confidence in them.

Tell them how great their school is, and yes, what an awesome teacher they will have. Give them the gift of a great memory from your school years — hopefully one from their grade, if you have one. Remind them that they are strong and capable. Reassure that precious child that they can do whatever they need to do to survive this day, this week, and this year. When they have a problem with a teacher, let them do the talking as you sit quietly beside them and offer your support. As you do this, they will gain confidence and skill that allows them to face more and more challenges in their life, because more challenges will come and next time, you may not be there.

If they see that you believe they are capable, they will believe it too.

And finally parents, please remember your child’s teacher cares about your child. He or she is human, they have a life and obligations outside of school, just like you do. Believe in them as you believe in your child. As you work together, teacher, student, and parents can become a powerful team to enable your child to have an amazing year!

My summer was stolen by too many plans and optimistic expectations that exceeded the available time. But that’s okay, because in just a few short days, I get to see my amazing kids and start on another epic journey through the mysteries of math, the wonderful world of words in reading and writing, and the sometimes strange worlds of science and social studies. We’ll travel through them together and we’ll all learn about them and about ourselves. Next June we’ll emerge exhausted, but victorious.

I can hardly wait.

 

 

 

Navigating the Fog

On By mdannels3In Thinking about GodLeave a comment

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Fog…. Ick.

Okay, I’ll be honest, it’s not the FOG that is ick; it’s DRIVING in fog that is ick.

Recently, another teacher and I attended a workshop in a small town about 90 miles away. I had to drive a school district vehicle there every morning and home again every evening for three days. As I drove, I navigated through fog all three mornings. The first and last mornings the fog was patchy, while heavy at times. But that middle morning… Oh. My. Goodness. It was thick and heavy the whole ninety – oops, make that 130 miles.

Yes, I admit it, I got lost in the fog. I missed a highway marker sign and a sign that told me to turn. I went on to a small town – nearly 20 miles further than I should have. The fog was thick enough that we weren’t able to get a signal on either of our map apps on our phones. So, I did the only logical thing – I turned around and went back 20 miles, found the small sign and turned. We made it to our conference – about half an hour late. Glad we left early.

Fog does funny things.

If I don’t have to drive in it, I love to sit out in it. While sitting there, I feel as though I am cushioned in cotton. I feel safe and protected. The world feels quieter and more peaceful. When I was a little girl I remember my Grandmother had a beautiful broach with blue glass stones. She kept it in a small white gift box where it sat on cotton and was covered with cotton. That’s how I feel when I sit in fog. I feel treasured – like God has wrapped me in a soft blanket of His protection and peace. Weird? Probably, but that’s okay.

I’ve driven/ridden in fog that was so thick I couldn’t see where I was two different times in my life. One was last week. It was frustrating and stressful. The other time, I was a passenger in a car and my husband was driving. We were going from Sacramento, CA heading to a small town north of there. For the first time in my life, I saw arrows painted onto the highway telling the driver to change lanes. The fog in this area was often so thick that signs couldn’t be seen so they had to come up with a different, more efficient way to communicate with drivers on the roads. In my opinion, the speed at which the cars traveled on that stretch of the freeway was way too fast for the conditions. I recall feeling the same kind of emotions as I did last week, frustration and stress. I was also a little scared.

If I’m honest, I’ll admit that it’s not just the weather and humidity that cause fog in my life. There are different kinds of fog.

There is the numbing fog that you feel when IMG_7665you’ve been given news you’d rather not hear. An unexpected diagnosis, news of a loss, facing unjust circumstances are all situations that come to mind. Of course, there is that fog that you experience when you don’t feel well, when your symptoms or medication make you feel a little “off” or a little out of it. As I grew up, I couldn’t really fool people into believing I was sick – and yes, I may have tried a time or two. However if I felt badly, people could almost always tell because I was usually out of sync with the people or situations around me. I often seemed to not notice the people or conversations or dangers around me. It was like I was functioning in my own foggy world.

And the most frightening of all kinds of fog – spiritual fog. This is the confusion that we experience when we aren’t following the right path. It happens because we’ve taken our focus off the navigational equipment:  His Word, our faith, time with Him spent in prayer, and time spent listening.

Navigating the fog in our life may mean we need to slow down or even turn around. It may mean that we need to sit, rest, and enjoy God’s protection and care. It could be that we white knuckle our way through it, knowing that it will eventually end. Making it to the other side of the fog may mean taking time to pursue a remedy and taking time to heal. Or, it could be that we very simply need to focus on the tools we’ve been given… God’s Word, using our faith to follow where He leads us, and spending time with our Father in prayer.

Well my friend, how’s the fog out your way?

 

To Love and to Cherish

On By mdannels3In Thinking about Family, Thinking about God, Thinking about Love, UncategorizedLeave a comment

He was tall, had red hair and a beard. His car was fast… and cool. (I liked sports cars.) He was shy and cute, really cute.

I was interested; he wasn’t.

Oh well.

And so I waited, seven months I waited. Finally, he called. We went on our first date: dinner out and going home to play UNO with my mom afterward. Six weeks later he asked me to be his wife; I was smart enough to say yes.

Six months later, we were married in the same Church building that Grandfather helped drag into town from the canyon east of town to help plant a new church that he and my Grandmother attended; the same church building where my parents were married. The history and tie to the past that that place gave to us as we began our life together was special for me, and he understood.

Since that time, we’ve had good times and hard times. I find it difficult to say that we’ve had bad times because honestly, there have been hard days and tough times, but I can’t say that they were bad times. Difficulties, challenges and struggles have caused us to cling more tightly to each other. They have allowed us to know each other better, to see each other’s strengths and to be strong where the other wasn’t as strong. Those hard times have helped us to lean more fully on our Heavenly Father as we’ve leaned on each other.

How can you say those are bad times?

In thirty-two years we have welcomed three sons, lost a daughter, and welcomed another daughter, our daughter-in-love. We’ve traveled a great deal within the U.S., dragging our sons through museums, onto beaches, to the rim of canyons, and other tourist sights. Summers brought hikes, picnics, “drives” – including an annual color drive in the fall, and swimming in hotel pools. Our family has played football in parks, school yards, and our own backyard. Barbecuing became a favored routine. Cracker Barrel, our favorite restaurant, became a vacation destination, and Italian food is our special Christmas Eve dinner.

For more than three decades, we’ve made new memories and shared amazing moments. In fact, this week we will be married for 32 years.

THIRTY-TWO YEARS…

I could tell you how amazing he is – and he is. I could brag on him and tell you how hard he works in the church and on his secular job, because he does. Without feeling badly, I could tell you that he’s a great father and example for our sons and it would be completely true.

But more than anything, I want to tell you that he loves me and I love him.

During our years together, we’ve watched many marriages. Through observation and a “few” years of on the job training, I’ve come to some conclusions about marriage.

Marriage isn’t a 50 / 50 proposition, it’s a 100% /100% deal. You both have to be all in, 100% committed to the relationship and the success of the marriage. Without that commitment it will be a struggle, at best and chances are, the marriage will fail.

Relationships are tolerant. They require that together we survive the hard days, and we celebrate together on the good ones. It means that there are times when one will be stronger than the other, that one will be exhausted and the other will be energetic, that one will be healthy and one will not. A time will come, if it hasn’t already, when you will disagree. Eventually, one or both of you will lose a family member and you will be the one who loves them and gives them a safe place to grieve.

Illnesses will come. Kids might, too. Both of these bring new stresses that, if you are not totally committed to each other, can become barriers and create areas of conflict. And then there’s money. Anyone who thinks that money isn’t an issue in marriage is sadly mistaken. There’s either too much – or not enough, and either way, if you don’t talk about it and work together, it will be point of stress.

Respect is a key ingredient in a successful marriage. It’s important that you both respect each other. When you pledge your lives to each other, you become partners. Respecting your partner is a key to any successful partnership. You need to respect the gifts and strengths that he or she brings to the partnership. Respecting your partner’s opinion and ideas reassures them that you value them. Honest, quality communication is another way to show your respect. Listen and listen some more. Then, listen again.

Please allow me to give you some very practical advice: hold hands often, smile at each other, search each other out in a crowd, compliment your beloved, wink at that one who stole your heart, dress up for one another – even if you’re just getting pizza, date each other, leave notes for one another, and when you can afford it, travel together – even if it’s just down the street for the night. Finally, hug each other and say, “I love you,” every day.

For us, when he asked me to marry him, I asked him if he would still hold my hand when we’d been married thirty years… or fifty… or more…

So far so good…

A Brand New End…

On By mdannels3In Thinking about Communication, Thinking about FamilyLeave a comment

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It started as a reason – maybe even a good one.  Then, it became an excuse. And finally, it’s become a crutch.

Four and a half years ago, everything changed. It’s as though there was a line drawn in the sand. A before and after line.

You see, four and a half years ago, we lost my brother to suicide. I’ve always said it that way. I’ve always included the cause of our loss in my statements about losing him. For some, suicide might be something to hide. It’s a hard thing to say, but I choose to own that statement – that reality.

Since his death, I’ve experienced anger, loss, grief, and guilt. Yes, I know that I am not responsible for my brother’s decisions. I know that the “if onlies” and “what ifs” are pointless. And I know that these things have become an excuse – even a crutch – that kept me from writing, from exploring the thoughts and ideas in my head. Today, I’m throwing away the crutch. Yes, I will continue to miss him, but his loss is no longer a reason to not do what I love to do.

I realize that we live in a world where mental illnesses are hidden or denied. It’s a world in which these struggles are medicated or ignored. I’m not a crusader – but I am a younger sister who lost her big brother. And as a result, there are a few things that have planted themselves firmly in my brain…

  1. Assistance for Veterans is greatly lacking.
  2. Emergency mental health assistance in the US is practically nonexistent.
  3. Suicide is prevalent in our world and hiding it, avoiding it, and ignoring it will not help.
  4. Suicide intervention and prevention are imperative.

So, yes, I will continue to advocate for these things, but more than that, I will return to sharing my heart.

My brother was incredibly creative – he could draw and build and invent. I write. And if he were here, he would ask me why I wasn’t writing. I’ve tried. There are half finished blogs in a folder on my desktop – it’s time to finish them, to create new ones and to return to my passion of sharing my heart through words.

My mother always said, “You can’t go back and begin again, but you can start from here to make a brand new end.” I don’t know where she got that statement, but it has always stuck with me.

So today, my friends, I’m going to start blogging again. I’m going to put aside the grief and guilt that I’ve felt and I’m going to write. It’s time to work on that “brand new end.”

I hope you’ll join me for this journey and understand that I am a different person than I used to be. Change can be good. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the commitment that I’m making to my myself today, so some of my first blogs may be reworked older posts – new stuff is on the way.

Maybe you are like me. Perhaps there is something that you started, but the circumstances of life have caused you to cease following your passion. Join me on this journey. We can’t start over, but we can start again from this place. I’d love to have you creating, meeting your challenges, finding your joy. Do it! Go for it! It may not be easy, but I believe with all my heart that pursuing your goal will be worth it. If I thought it would help, I’d double dog dare you. Let’s do this… together.

For those of you who’ve loved me and have encouraged me to follow this passion of writing, thank you.

Here I go again…. Creating a brand new end.

It Happened Again…

On By mdannels3In Thinking about Family, Thinking about God, Thinking about SchoolLeave a comment

pexels-photo-289740.jpegIt happened again.

And again.

And again, and again, and again… some reports are saying it’s happened a dozen times this school year alone and 300 times since Sandy Hook.

This morning, someone took gun in hand and went to a school – a school he was familiar with — and changed the lives of every teacher, student, administrator, and staff person in that building.

Tonight… at least 17 families are smaller.

Tonight… at least 17 sets of parents will have one less child to hold.

Tonight… America grieves…

…again.

WHY?

Why did we decide that the right to bear arms is more important than the right for children to attend school – or for teachers to teach school — without fearing for their lives?

Why wasn’t Columbine in 1999 enough? Or Red Lake, MN, or Nickel Mines, PA, or Sandy Hook in Newtown, CN, or Marysville, WA? And now, Parkland, FL – will it be enough?

Why didn’t this all stop with Pearl, Mississippi in 1997?

Not to mention the shootings on college campuses –both public and private.

WHEN?

When will teachers walk into a new classroom and not have to worry about, “Where will I put my students if the unthinkable happens?”

When will mothers and fathers stop burying their babies for no other reason than that they went to school that morning?

_______________________

Tonight, I am overwhelmed by the loss of more and more and more and more children and those people who try valiantly to keep them safe. My heart is breaking for parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, class mates and friends who have lost people about whom they care deeply. I am numb because it really hasn’t been that long since something similar happened in Kentucky and New Mexico.

But it isn’t just the schools anymore, is it? It’s movie theaters, restaurants, and concerts.

Have we forgotten how to appreciate the creation of God? Have we forgotten the value of human life? Is there anything that we can do to bring an end to this madness?

It’s time to solve this.

My own world view says that the true answer to this problem is God and His touch in our world. I truly believe that. Even so, He did give us brains to use, mouths to speak, and ears to hear.

With these God-given tools, we have to value humanity as God’s handiwork again. It’s time to remind ourselves that human life is a gift and that it should be treasured at every age.  We’ve got to understand that mental health issues are a very real part of this problem. And whether we like it or not, we must acknowledge that the easy availability and abundance of guns in our society are a part of the problem.

It is TIME.

It’s time to realize that as long as we remain entrenched in our own opinions and ideas, as long as we choose to believe that our way is the only way, as long as we decide that there is no room for compromise – let alone understanding of another perspective – then we are doomed to more nights where parents mourn with empty arms.

It’s time… in fact,

it’s past time.

 

An Unexpected Victory

On By mdannels3In Thinking about Family, Thinking about RelationshipsLeave a comment

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I was eight.

Our family was hosting one of the best people in the whole world, my Grandmother.

I was on my knees on the blue upholstered kitchen chair, asking every kid’s favorite questions, “What are you doing?” and, “Why’d you do that?”

Grandmother was exceedingly patient as she answered every question I asked. Finally, she asked if I wanted to learn how to make the cinnamon rolls that she was making for our family. I said, “Yes!”

And learn, I did.

Honestly, I don’t remember kneading the dough, using the rolling pin, spreading the butter, or adding the cinnamon and sugar. I didn’t roll them up and I definitely didn’t cut them. I might have put them in the pan, but honestly, I don’t know.

What I do know, is that she explained everything she did – and why. She told me what could go wrong and how I could make them in the most efficient way.

Yesterday, over four years since we lost her, I made those rolls. In my head, I could hear her talking about rolling out the dough, about having patience as I did so. (She knew I would need that advice.) I let them raise and then I baked them, topped them with a light vanilla glaze and gave one to my husband.

Apparently, I’ve never made them for him before… oops.

He asked if they were hard to make – I said they weren’t, just a little time consuming. He suggested I make them again.

I will.

There were other times that she visited us. On one visit, she made me a set of dishes out of bleach bottles and then hand painted beautiful purple pansies on them. Another time she brought a doll bed that she had made.

As an adult, I was still receiving amazing gifts: homemade oatmeal raisin cookies, delicious meals whenever our family would travel through her neighborhood, a soda can rocking chair, a “sofa” door stop and precious conversations. When I met Mr. Gorgeous, I wrote her a letter telling her all about him. She kept that letter. Several years later, we stopped to visit her and she pulled it out of her Bible and gave it to me – truly a treasure.

There are many items from my Grandmother — and from other amazing people that I value.

But honestly, what I prize most highly are the moments, the memories.

That afternoon when Grandmother taught me how to make cinnamon rolls is so clear in my mind that I even remember what she was wearing.

Weird, I know.

There are other moments, other memories that I love to look back on. The Saturday when my best friend’s dad made pancakes for breakfast, and the day when she and her mom taught me to make sour cream sugar cookies – with REAL sour cream, not the store-bought kind. When my second-mom taught me to sew. How my mom taught me to make the absolute best hot chocolate ever made. The way my other Grandma would sit in church and clear her throat to get my mom and aunt to slow down the hymns they were playing. When my Great-Grandmother let us kids wade in her ditch and play with the water strider spiders. The way one of my Aunt’s house always smelled of coffee and Baby Magic Baby Lotion.

We all have these kinds of moments. A friend of ours in Iowa came to church and told about her neighbor girl. One summer, the girl was old enough to be on her own while dad worked on the farm, but she was lonely and a little bored. She showed up at our friend’s house and asked what she was doing. Evelyn invited her in and told her she was making cookies. The girl asked if she could learn how. Evelyn obliged. Once a week the little girl knocked on her door and Evelyn conducted a cooking class for her neighbor girl. They made pies, cookies, cakes, bread, and other things. What amazing memories they made together – no wonder that little girl went there once a week.

You see, our world has become so tech centered that we’ve forgotten to keep creating moments – to continue making memories.

For years, I’ve believed that the key to making home a place to which people want to return lies within the good memories that those places — and those people — hold.

It’s true about churches, too, by the way.

Instead of playing on a tablet or a phone, let’s teach kids to make jam, to build a bird house, to change a tire, to plant a garden, to paint a fence, to sew a pillow – or to make cinnamon rolls.

On Wednesday, our son asked we could have cinnamon rolls on Saturday. Mr. Gorgeous and I, while at the store, bought a roll of “cinnamon rolls” – you know the kind where you peel off the paper, hit the tube on the edge of the counter, put hunks of dough in a pan, and then bake? Yeah, those.

After we came home, I started thinking about that summer afternoon when I was eight. I wondered if I could still remember what I had learned from that precious lady and I decided to find out. My Grandmother was a great teacher – and I felt unexpectedly victorious as my family inhaled a pan of Grandma’s cinnamon rolls.

While I don’t like to make resolutions, I think this year, I will set a goal of looking back and treasuring more of those kinds of memories. But more than that, I’m going to focus on helping others – my husband, my family, my students, my church, and my friends – create amazing memories of taking adventures, learning things, laughing, and being with amazing people.

In 2018, let’s make memories with the people in our lives, shall we?