how will I make it through

I talk about this on or near the last day of Slice of Life almost every single year, so why break tradition.

The thought of writing thirty poems in thirty days causes great stress to my mind. I actually envisioned myself writing about how I would not be participating in National Poetry Month this year. It was frightening. I love poetry. I love writing poetry. People refer to me as poet. So how could possibly not participate?

Life is insane right now. That's how. I have too much on my plate.

However, writing poetry helps me, so I'm going to give it a go. Hopefully, I will have encouragement along the way. Encouragement and inspiration will be essential to pulling it off.

With a glimmer of hope and quite a bit of trepidation, I say farewell to March and Slice of Life and welcome to April and (we can all pray) thirty poems that aren't complete trash.

a carpenter's daughter

You wouldn't know it by how inept I am at fixing things around my house, but I am a carpenter's daughter. Or maybe you would know it because I can't use a drill to save my life. All I can think of right now is the irony of doctors' children always being sick and a certain English teacher's children hating writing and English. It's all so ironic!

All of these thoughts have been ruminating as I've been attempting to take care of my home and make arrangements for new flooring. I couldn't even make arrangements for the flooring without major frustration. I caught myself being impatient, so I tried to turn it around and be appreciative for the help I was receiving. I am very certain that the frustration with my ignorance and incompetence was being misconstrued for being upset with the customer service people. I just hope that guy was able to see I wasn't upset with him. I hate it when people take me wrong.

And all of this entire situation has me missing my dad. I was thinking about him on my way home from this flooring ordering fiasco, and I thought about how he worked so hard until he couldn't anymore, but even then he kept on trying. His imperfection was blaring quite often, yet his generosity and desire to make things right with people were truly hallmarks of his character.

Did I already say how I miss my dad? Well, I do. And I wish so very much I could have learned how to be more handy. But maybe it's good because my inability keeps me appreciating his talent.

big-time dreams

It doesn't happen all the time, but dreams can become reality.

I've written about this somewhat already, but I woke up this morning in a reflective mood, pondering how I've been able to achieve many wonderful things despite the odds against me. I also was ruminating over how I don't have any big-time connections, but somehow I still am connected to people who have helped me along my way.

I think I'm just not a big-time sort of person, and that's okay. A main goal in life for me is to find ways to help others, which I am pretty big-time at that. I mess things up sometimes still, but I know I make a difference more often than not. And that feels pretty big-time to me.

When I catch myself wondering if I have any dreams come true, I'll look at this photograph and read these words, and hopefully, I'll be able to revel in it all and stop wondering.

chilled

I'm so cold right now. I do this weird thing where if I "catch a chill," as I tend to call it, I stay cold for a long time. It takes extraordinary efforts to warm up. So I've begun to embrace herbal tea. I'm not a fan of tea really, but some mint or peach chamomile to warm myself on the inside can make a real difference.

As I type, I can't stop thinking about how my toes are cold and my nose is cold and I just wish I weren't so cold right now.

keeping in touch

Our fast paced lives don't allow for much personal touch. We have so much going on that if you aren't right there in someone's path, you might not see them for years—or ever again. It seems like the sound waves of their voice might never touch your face again.

Mail is something that eases the strain of missing people though. It is a tangible thing you can hold in your hands and read again and again. You can glide your fingertips across where their fingertips were. You can see the care they send.

When I received this card in the mail on the night of my book launch party, it was the next best thing to having this special guest there in person. And the thoughtfulness in getting it put in the mail with such impeccable timing is something worthy of praise. This piece of mail added something magical that couldn't have been in attendance otherwise.

Getting handwritten mail is becoming a thing of the past, but I hope I never stop sending or receiving it. The connection it offers is invaluable to me.

preparations

I ran
We ran
They all followed behind
Like little ducklings
But they aren't so little
Anymore

Searching
Searching
Searching for just
The right thing
Looking high and low
For sparkle and shine

All for the girl
To make a memory
To help the divine
Inside sparkle and shine
Taking time only to breathe
As the sun went down

defending my corner

As a teacher, I'm seriously tired of hiding in corners. Teachers aren't paid enough. Teachers aren't given enough respect. Teachers aren't allowed the same constitutional right to defend themselves just because they are at work. I'm also tired of how non-liberal teachers are painted into a corner if they don't agree with the teachers who so loudly proclaim their rightness about gun control. Somehow non-liberal teachers are inhumane and worthy of shunning? Give me a break. That shunning is just another form of intolerance and snuffing out of free speech.

The only way to "stop hiding in corners" is to learn what you need to do to defend yourself.  Is this not a basic statement? Is this not common sense? Criminals and the mentally unstable who go off their rocker and hurt others do not care one wit about any protests about how people are simply done with having to hide in corners. Just like the common citizen doesn't care enough to hold their representatives accountable for not treating teachers better by ensuring better pay and respect and Second Amendment rights—and freedom of speech for all.

And yet, what solutions are there? I've pulled on a thread to unravel a few thoughts, but what have I done to help things? What can be done?

Societal decay and my limitations of means and position tell me there is little I can do. Nevertheless, I know I can start with me and the people around me. I can begin with my children, my family, my students, and my professional learning community. I can write things like this in the space that I have a voice and don't worry about how I might be shunned.

I never have liked hiding in corners, but until some viable solutions are implemented, corners can be a haven if defended honorably and with humility.

a box of chocolates

Literally every single time I open a fresh box of chocolates, I recall Forrest Gump saying, "Life [is] like a box of chocolates . . ." and I don't understand why.

I like chocolate. And I like boxes of fine chocolates even better. Life is so difficult while chocolate is smooth and easy. It's bizarre to me that Forrest Gump sitting on the bus stop bench comes to mind every time. It's weird.

So anyway. I am forgetting why I even started this train of thought!

I want to tell you how life can be like a box of chocolates. How life has been smooth and easy for me.

Friends. Friends have been smooth and easy for me. I'm not talking about making friends though. While I have quite a few friends, I chalk it up to living a good stretch by now, and it's sheer accumulation, not anything about my friendship skills.

In my trials and my change and my continuing struggles that won't seem to go away, I have friends smoothing out the way before me as best as they can and working for my good to ease my burdens. I don't think anyone could ask for more.

So, while life is not smooth and easy, life can be made smoother and easier because of factors in our life such as friends, faith, and good choices, just to name a few.

ten things

Ten Random Things about Me

1. I immensely enjoy being a teacher, but editing is my comfort zone.

2. I am a fourth generation Las Vegas native on my mother's maternal line of the family.

3. My oldest son and I argue like my brothers and I did when we were growing up, and, secretly, I find it funny—even though it's not.

4. Writing my book and publishing it seems unreal to me even though I did every stitch of the work. And yet it is true.

5. Having at least a boyfriend is one of my goals within the next year. I need someone to find him for me! Or kick one of the people I already talk to in gear! (I mean pray for them, yes, that's what I meant.)

6. Singing is something I love to do, but I'm losing my voice for it. And it breaks my heart to think about it.

7. Some days, I feel like a bulldozer.

8. I have too many "favorite" songs to count. It feels like people are asking me to choose a favorite child, and I don't believe in favoritism. I love good music!

9. Being known for grammar policing/editing feels like a badge of honor.

10. Purple is by far the most versatile and stunning/calming/exciting/beautifying color out of every other color available. I could even argue that it's a neutral if you choose just the right hue.

to be a firefighter

I was going to write about springtime and about a hundred other things, but then my youngest son came home from an outing with the Boy Scouts last night, and I knew exactly what I needed to write about today. 

He told me about how the firemen showed them their gear, the axe, the helmet, the heavy, heavy outerwear, the hoses and ladder and the giant truck. He told me about how one of the scouts actually passed out right there, and they got to see the firemen in action on their own friend and how they got started in front of everyone of course, but then they closed the doors of the vehicle where they worked on him to give privacy, never forgetting their job and the human factor. 

He then told me about how they have to chop holes in the roofs of houses and take chainsaws to walls and ventilate a fire in order to control it. It needs some air to find the way out and stop raging. 

He told me about how just the gear alone is about seventy pounds and that is why firemen spend so much time working out. They live at the fire station for forty-eight hours, eating, sleeping, exercising in order to prepare for their intermittent and dangerous work, and then go home for four days. He said they have to be strong to help the people who are in crisis, to get fires put out. 

And I thought about how I am a firefighter. I have to be strong. I have no time to be weak. I must be prepared for carrying my seventy pounds of care, so I can do my job I have been called to do. The human factor is ever present; I feel it pressing on me daily. My mistakes are like stifling smoke from the daily fires, trapped in darkness. I need to ventilate the situations we face; I need to find ways to cut through the roofs that keep the fires raging. I need to remember to take time to breathe, so I can see the way out of our trials. 

I am a firefighter. 

peeps

I know they are terrible for you, but I love the little marshmallow things. They remind me of Easter egg hunts and sitting with my Easter basket in the living room with my parents, eating too much candy.

Easter is coming up so quickly this year, and I am not ready—I mean, the Easter Bunny is not ready. Sorry! Spoiler alert!

But anyway. Things are just so crazy right now that I'd be so tempted to eat all their candy before Easter got here if I were to get things early. Forget that mess! I want to keep on working hard and taking care of my family and myself.

That said, these little purple darlings are so good that I'll have to get a little more just for fun.

queen of hearts

This little collage makes me happier than it should.

I'm not quite sure why I feel so comfortable playing at being such a terrible tyrant, but it just feels natural. Helena Bonham-Carter has long been considered one of my doppelgängers, so that's probably the biggest contributor.

The photo on the left is from a few weeks ago, and the one on the right is Halloween 2016 when I got my children to do an Alice in Wonderland theme. The purple eye shadow I chose really stole the show if you ask me. Totally perfected the tone of the outfit. Blue isn't quite enough for such a striking look.

Being able to put myself into the shoes of a book character has some impact too.

One last thing, I will attest to the fact that red is half purple. It is my other power color, and it makes me almost as happy as purple always does.

ready for change

This day. What a day. So much happening to get change on its way.

I ran around and typed and worked and made big decisions.

I am proud of myself for being decisive. I'm proud of myself for acting and not just talking.

This day is the day that begins when my life is about to change entirely. Each day has been and will be filled with change for a long time from now.

And I think we are ready.

singing to the prophet

Have you ever checked off a bucket list item you didn't even know would/should be on your bucket list until after it happened?

Today that happened for me.

I performed with a church choir that sang for a spiritual conference meeting for our neighborhood area called a stake conference. We practiced over the past 6-8 weeks to sing at this event, and even though the number of practices were few, I struggled to get there with all that is going on for my family. But I was especially invited by my friend, the choir director, to join, so I made a special effort to make it happen. And I am completely grateful that I did.

The choir members were all seated in the choir seats on the stand at the front of the chapel. People were flooding into the congregational seating. There were just a few minutes until the service was to begin, and then everyone arose from their seats. I didn't see what the cause was, but I was not going to be weird and not stand. I caught a glimpse of a man and woman who I hadn't seen at church but somehow knew them walking to take a seat just across from me…and then my brain caught up and realized it was the prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, who walked in with his wife, Wendy.

For anyone who has even heard of President Nelson, they know what a caring and spiritual man he is. And I never thought I'd ever get to sing for any prophet, let alone sing for them in my little neighborhood church house.

My heart is flooded with joy right now—for the opportunity, for my friend inviting me and my fortitude to keep going, and for the prophet to be so inspired as to come share his presence and wisdom with my friends, neighbors, and myself.

I want to add that I can't sing very well anymore, so I was hesitant to agree to joining the stake conference choir, but I decided to do my best and just give my heart to the effort. I am blessed now by the experience. When we were singing, President Nelson turned around from his seat as we were behind him and watched us sing. He smiled and looked at me as I was singing with the choir, and the spirit of rejoicing was great.

To be so close as I listened to the prophet speak about what we need to teach our children, about being good citizens and the importance of doing family history and sharing those stories, reminding us of the importance of reading from the scriptures with our children.

Then, when his wife and he were leaving after the meeting, he was shaking hands with the other speakers before they had to go, he stood directly across from me, and I was singing along with other people as the organist played "We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet" as he stood before me. I never knew I'd ever want to sing that closely and so personally to a prophet of God, but I just did it today.

I hope I never forget the strength and peace I felt as I stood in a prophet's presence.

uncertainty

The second I begin to plan for the changes I have been anticipating, any part that I have my heart set on gets taken out from under me. So I cannot plan. It's like I have to be entirely unsettled at all times in my life. I cannot plan on anything major. I just have to fly by the seat of my pants forever.

Why? Why does every turn hold a fresh set of uncertainty?

I understand that life is uncertainty, but I know a crap ton of people who are able to make solid plans and even take them through execution and see have a morsel of stability to count on. I can not ever count on plans to happen how I plan.

If you're the praying type, please pray that I'll be able to find stability soon. I need it so much. I need to be able to breathe a little easier.

teacher of teens

Being a teacher has its ups and its downs. Any teacher will tell you that. The love you automatically have in your heart for these students is unparalleled excepting from their families (of course). It's as if you have a near endless supply of foster children you see for a bit each day for nine months out of the year, and then you get a fresh batch. If you're doing things just right, you even get to love the ones who hate you. 

But one of the biggest downs is when you can't help a student. When you see them self-destructing and they won't let anyone in to alleviate the self-inflicted trauma. They won't listen. They refuse to find a happier path. With students like this (which are few, thank goodness), I can hardly stand being a teacher. I feel powerless to teach, powerless to make a difference. 

Teaching teenagers is a hot mess of finding self and making life-altering decisions and becoming the fascinating adults they long to become. I love being a teacher of teens even if it means I have to stand on the sidelines begging to be their cheerleader. 

spring break

It's not time for my spring break, but I am looking forward to it in a couple of weeks. Just the thought of having a little less going on provides hope that I'll be able to make it through. With having to wait until after spring break to get my licensure exam results, the countdown is even worse than ever. I think this year I am in pretty close competition with my students for trunkiness. 

That's not even a legitimate word, nevertheless, it needs to be used. I am ready to get to spring break, which leads us to summer! I don't really have any solid plans—like I don't even know what life will be like in the summer—but for some reason I long for it. I'm almost homesick for summer. So trunkiness is just the right word. 

One day at a time, we will get there! It's something to look forward to for sure! 

on the cusp

Change is right here. It's breathing down our necks even. Like a beast of prey waiting to pounce.

On the other hand, change is still right here, but it's whispering gently in our ears, holding our hands, and urging us to take hold of the gift waiting on the other side of fear.

Change is our friend or foe, our hope or our dread, yet whatever it is, it is always there. Change happens every day in small measure, and sometimes it can happen in the blink of an eye. The change I'm talking about has been coming for a few years. I know because I've felt it beckoning me to welcome it in—to be prepared for what it would bring.

I am excited to see how life might become something more of what I need to be contented. I look forward to the gifts that change will give.

a charmed life

What a day. A busy and hardworking day with so much to do, and yet what a wonderful day. I really was able to change the entire vibe of my March 12 from what I've had for the past fifteen years. I decided that I wanted to celebrate instead of mourn, and I'm telling you it worked. Working and working, while still taking a moment to reflect on losing my mom, kept me busy and productive and full of energy—instead of feeling downcast.

I am thankful for all of my friends who supported me and kept me going. I really had a wonderfully productive day. How sweet it is to have a better type of day after so very long.

on my last nerve

Why are narcissists even a thing? Seriously. Why? What goes so wrong that only the self is driving a person?

Being on guard for the games played by a narcissist can really wear down a person. The thing that keeps me from totally losing it with people like this is understanding how letting them get on my last nerve is what they want. So I've learned to step back, take a breath (or ten), and look for where I can put up a cushion of relief from the onslaught. It seems to work most of the time, and I am thankful for that.

I wonder if anyone else has ideas for how to be patient with/protect oneself from narcissistic people. I'm up for suggestions!

a piece of peace

amidst the cutting
of this fabric
the sewing
of something new
when those who I
thought would assist
did not
would not
could not
should not
exhaustion pulled down
the curtain
put its foot down
and said
no more
allotting a piece
of peace
for me
although I did
not ask for it
aloud
yet the wish
to be done
didn't come true
blessed rest
slowed it all down
stopped me
gave me permission to
stop thinking and
working and
pushing through
until it starts again
tomorrow

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exam day follow up

Can't really find the words without totally freaking out. So I'm going to remember my word of the year and try to have compassion for myself. I'm going to force myself to address this thing that is crushing me right now, today. I think I did well on my exam, yet I think I did terribly at the same time. Does that even make sense? Another thing I know for a fact is that I let Impostor Syndrome creep in as I was taking the exam, so I don't trust myself at all. I either did well and comprehended what I was reading and was able to show what I know—or I truly was kidding myself and missed the mark. I cannot be sure. I wish I had felt confident instead of like I was trying to get away with something by talking my way out. I know I am a competent teacher. I have students who love me, students who learn from me, and even a small margin of students who hate me because they don't get me or can't get away with stuff with me thus proving my mad classroom management skills. Although I probably won't ever get teacher of the year because I have to dedicate so much effort to my family, I sincerely believe I am a successful teacher, a good teacher, and one that deserves to be licensed. But that test. Man alive. I am going to cry if my intuition that maybe I misinterpreted some of the questions is correct—and I fail. I am only thinking of it right now because I want to follow up with everyone because people said they wanted to know how it all went. But I am going to try to avoid working myself up over something I can't do anything about for a month. Yes, a month. The March story challenge will be over when I finally get the results. I can hardly stand it. So April 10 will be the slice where I follow up again if I wait that long. I might just write a quick post on the day the email comes. But it's also poetry month next month, so maybe it'll be a jacked up haiku about failure or something with joy and relief as a theme. Who even knows. I'm going to try to set this aside though. I need to. I can't even tell you how this is affecting me with all the other things going on in my life right now. It must be compartmentalized and set aside. Thank you for reading this lengthy stream of words that I supposedly couldn't find. I'm glad I let myself show compassion and allow myself to talk about it for a minute.

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exam day

I can hardly believe it's been over three years since I began my official teaching journey. And now I have to take my next step and level up.

The timing of this exam coincides well with how my life always has to have at least three to five insanely hard things happening at once. This round, the exam is one of five, so I have been bracing myself. I haven't been able to faithfully study, so while I'm completely busy with other pressing matters, I've been faithfully praying that the studying I have done will be enough.

To my readers, I ask that you think of me and pray that I might pass this exam and be able to continue doing all that is required of me and feel as successful as I ought. I need all the collective strength and energy I can get!

THIS PHOENIX SPEAKS is now available on Amazon!

my namesake is on facebook

You know, I never expected to see my great-aunt get on Facebook, but I guess one of my cousins, her son, got her a new phone and got her connected.

It might sound commonplace, but I tell you, she's 87 years old and I get to missing her so much because I can't afford to travel to see her very often. And now I can share pictures and ideas and say hello quickly. I can share my blog with her now, and my photography, even so many things.

Today, I'm terribly tired, but I'm also full of gratitude to my cousin, her son, who took time and money to help her be able to reach out to her family. What a gift!

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rolling the dice

I started up asking for stories about my dad last year, so I could begin writing a book about him. I want to show the world how a significantly flawed individual can also make a significantly positive impact on the world. The lens I'm using is one of love and forgiveness, but it also is one of truth. I also bet a little too much on the idea that people would want to honor him like I do.

When the call for stories was circling, some of my family were quick to help. However, there were many who did not respond at all—people who my father helped out of major messes in their lives (or what could have turned out to be major messes anyway). There were also a couple of individuals who confided in me that they had such negative experiences with him that they couldn't think of any good thing to say. And so you know, I only called for positive stories or stories that ended up having a positive outcome no matter how far distant it was because I don't want to write out all of his failings. I don't believe his failings are actually his story, not in the least. Yes, they are part of his life and the way he interacted with and sometimes hurt people, but failings do not define anyone. NO ONE. And the lack of kindness and even gratitude for what my father did for some of these people who had nothing good to say so they aren't saying anything at all sort of makes me sick.

If I could, I'd like to have them recall every unkindness they ever did to someone else—especially the ones that they didn't mean to do or even realize—and see if they believe anyone should say nice things about them or offer any gratitude whatsoever ever. Would they judge themselves so harshly? Would they want everyone to just forget every good thing they ever did?

You probably can tell by now that this process has wounded me in a way. But I wouldn't change that I'm striving to really do a celebration of life for this amazing person who deserves to be remembered in a positive light just like most anyone on this planet. It is important that the memory of my father be put in a more generous light, a light to match his intention in life. It might be a crapshoot if anyone will read the book I'm writing for him, but at least I'll know there's a witness of his good heart, at the very least.

family reading

Scene One:

Run, run, running. All day. Taking on the world. Holding onto the old just a little longer than I should—until it hurts to think about all the change ahead. Receiving service beyond my ability to repay. So much service that I am in tears thinking about how much I've received. Driving and thinking and hurrying up. Until it's time to read…

Scene Two:

We stop everything. We open up a brand new book. It was even part of a box set, so the plastic wrap hadn't been off the package of greatness for long. The thrill of it all was almost too much. Getting pens for marginal notes. Fighting about this and that. Up and down the stairs. Trying to get everyone's attention. It feels like half a year has gone by since it was deemed time to read. 

Scene Three:

We read the line, "It was a dark and stormy night," and the thrill is made new. Such a thrill. And then the questions come. Why did the author do this? How do you say that? What is the name Fortinbras even doing in this book? Who even knows how to say Fortinbras properly?! Her name is actually Mrs Whatsit? Wow. I bet she's one of the ladies in the movie trailer. And we read and read and read. Taking on an imaginary world. Perking up after a long day. Hoping that the change ahead of us will be as good as our reading time together. 

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