Let's catch up: part two

The Beginning of the End (of school)

School has been insane this summer.

Insane.

Perhaps my thoughts of taking three classes and it being a breeze were a bit far-fetched. While I am incredibly thankful to be on the other side of it on the downhill slide to graduation, I can't help but be a bit concerned that something like school could throw me like it did.

It was all I could think about, talk about, worry about. It was a season of attempting to simply continue breathing. And it all revolved around school. Library school. How is that real?

On this side, though, there is this giant exhale of relief. Because after a summer which was robbed of all things fun and stuffed to the seams with papers and research and crazy ridiculous expectations, I can still see myself as a librarian.

I see it.

Cardigans and all.

I see the impact I can have. I see the enjoyment in the day to day. I see the students and faculty and community I can affect.

And honestly, that is just huge. It is giant that I am more than halfway done with something I never anticipated starting and I remain eager for the end result.

Because fear has whispered in my ear that this was all for naught. That I couldn't make it through these classes. And that even if I did, I wouldn't really want what was behind door number two.

Fear has slithered its way through every inch of my thoughts and attempted with all its scaly force to lead my heart to doubt.

But my heart is still in it. My excitement is still brimming. And while I know it will fade at times, today I am thankful that it continues to be present. Sitting beside me. Urging me forward. Whispering a tiny bit louder than my fear. That this is real. And it is good. And not to quit.

Library school. Whoowee. Who knew? Did I mention I only have 2 and a half more semesters to go?

This is the beginning of the end (of school). And that is so good.

My current class has me running to the public library each week for really fun books.
 It is seriously fun.  

What if this is my last year?

The above realization brings with it yet another change rushing toward me all too quickly...the end of my time in the classroom. At least as the formal teacher.

The fact that the future does not open itself wide for us to peer in and figure it all out is more than I can handle sometimes.

I love to teach, y'all. I just do. It is in me to teach. I ain't in it for the summer vacation or millions (hyperbole) of holidays.

I love it.

I love the thrill of sharing literature I love day in and day out with my students. I love seeing their minds whirl with new information. I love figuring out who they are during their 7th grade year and allowing them to see me for who I am. I love that I get to laugh and play and enjoy them each day.

I love it.

So the idea that I won't have all of those things just like that for much longer is hard. It's a whole lot of hard. Because I love what I do. And I really feel like at this point in my career, I am somewhat good at it.

But things are a changin. Have you heard?

Soon my day-to-day will look very different. Students will still be a part of that. But not like today. Because today I corrected and encouraged and laughed and greeted and directed and bartered and danced and played and clapped and read and I might have even sang a little. And it was good.

But my future looks a little different. And I am beyond excited for so many pieces of what that day-to-day will look like. But today (and many days since I have entertained the thought of starting this library thing) I am smacked in the face with an urgency to soak up every moment. Every opportunity. Every breath with my students. Because those breaths (at least the kind I have been taking for the past 7 years) are limited in number. They will not always be.

And some days I feel like I am gasping to capture them all. Because I already ache for these days. I already miss them. It's strange, really.

And I wish I had had this perspective since day one. Because it has changed me. It has changed the way I handle things. It has changed the way I talk about school. It has changed the way I see those students who drive me bananas. It just has.

So I guess as I gasp for breath in these final moments, however many I may have, I'll be thankful too. For renewed perspective and for the chance to play a part while I am still there. In B-209. Teaching my little heart out. Because change is good and I am sure of where the Lord has pushed me. He has been ever faithful and constant in his proddings.

But now is good too. And I just really don't want to miss a moment.

My little B-209

Let's catch up: part one

So, it's been a bit.

Over a month for sure.

And I have thought about writing every day of that time. But quite honestly this summer has stumped me. Left me a tad bit speechless.

It was a rough one. (Probably not so much when viewed from the outside.) Rough in the way that becomes funny. Because your plans mean nothing. Your attempts don't always work.

And so this summer has rocked my little ole world in so many ways.

Things are just a changin'. And I have this inescapable feeling that the close of summer is not the final chapter of changes. Like there is something more to come. And it is quite possibly big and uncomfortable and exciting and a range of other hard and beautiful things.

So let's catch up. And I will attempt to put words to how it has been.

(I have split the catchin' up into three posts on three different days for sake of not having a bazillion word post. Read what you want. Don't read the rest.)

Big Fat See You Later's

Sunday was the day I have been avoiding for weeks. Months even. The day which has brought quick tears at its mere mention due to a jumbled up mixture of excitement and loss.

I said "see you later" to a dear friend. To someone who is a gigantic part of my community. Someone who I honestly have not known for all that long. A couple of years. Yet someone who the Lord has provided as so many things. A reminder to breathe when anxiety knocks at the door. A sweet text in the middle of a crazy day. (Or week. Or month.) A prayer when I just can't muster the strength. And a constant source of laughter and understanding.

She (and her sweet husband) are every weekend friends. They are drop what you are doing and hang out friends. They are "it doesn't matter that I just saw you yesterday, what time are you coming over" friends.

And there just can't be enough said for those kinds of friends.

The kind that see the positive in what is surrounding you while still making sure to listen and validate all your crazy concerns and confusion. The kind that allows you to cry past the point of ugly on their couch without the slightest drop of judgement. The kind that isn't too fearful or careful to speak up when what you have said or done is simply not your best. And the kind that sees down deep and loves you anyway.

And the Lord has been so good in providing us with these friends.

And I know life happens and friends move. It happens all the time. I've said these goodbyes before.

I wish I could say it wasn't painful every time. That I am just all excited for this new journey and not sad at all. Because I know I will see them still and our friendship doesn't cease simply because of a few highways. But it is painful. It just is.

And honestly, I am a little glad for the pain. Because to live in community, true community, is painful at times. Because it is real. It's the real stuff. The hard stuff. The how do we get through this stuff. That is what makes up true community.

And I love my little community of people. Those far and near. Those I get to see and squeeze and sort out life with each week and those I will use technology and letters and road trips and phone calls to hold close.

Because that big fat "see you later" I was avoiding is not the end. It is such a beginning. A moment for movement and growth and a refusal to stand still and remain complacent for the sake of comfort.

And the sweetest part of community, the part that I am clinging to today, is that it walks alongside you. Through all the seasons. Even if it's from a distance. They are there.

Little Teeny Nice To Meet You's

 And then there is this baby. And she is the teeniest (and only) niece I've ever had. And I cannot get enough of her. And It's bad. It's really really bad. She is simply too cute and teeny not to purchase everything cute and teeny to accompany her. She is irresistible and snuggly and just really the best there is when it comes to babies. Sorry. I said it. She wins.

Her entrance into the world was perfectly timed and so very sweet. She was the perfect "nice to meet you" in the midst of some very hard "see you laters".

She doesn't even know it, but she is already bringing peace and the sweetest kind of change into our lives. At just the right time.

It's funny how when you type something like that how real it becomes.

At just the right time.

I have forgotten that here of late.

That at just the right time a baby was born. And at just the right time a Son prepared the way. And at just the right time there is hope and reminders of God's great grace and loving-kindness.

At just the right time.

And while I am the proudest aunt around at my sweet niece's ability to simply be cute, I am also beyond thankful for such a huge and sobering opportunity. To love that little one and encourage her and squeeze her and be family to her. But most importantly that I might have the discernment to be what is needed in her sweet little life

at just the right time.