For the love of Pots!

Ok, ok, I can explain my long absence. I have this clay obsession. And its really hard to type with clay covered fingers. Well, its not that hard. But it is hard to keep the keys clean when your fingers are clay coverage. Just ask Erik. This post is for him. He's one of the Head Potters at Mudfire were I indulge my clay obsession. He casually, or blatantly, suggested I follow his thoughts on pots at his blog. And, you know what, I like his thoughts on pots. SO, Mr. Head Potter Erik, I have now linked to you from my blog so that everyone else can ponder those thoughts too! So, everyone look to the left.. see, the link.. Erik Haagensen. Click there now.

I love my Job!

I was talking about my job yesterday, and I was so excited to tell the details of how the children's faces light up when I play the guitar or read a story. I seriously love to sing the Hokie Pokie and the Tootie Ta, and I can turn any theme into a sorting, patterning, graphing, counting, or grouping activity. When I was thinking about all this yesterday, I couldn't help be be thankful for a job I love. I know how rare it is to have a job I look forward to everyday, and having spent a year doing a job that I didn't love has made this year even more sweeter. I so love Kindergarten! If you wanna hear stories from the front lines of my class, check it out here.

My heart breaks

Today my heart breaks still. I found out that one of the students who was in my first kindergarten class suffered from a heart attack and died. She was a precious and delightful little girl who always had a smile for me. She always tried her very best, listened to everything I said, and was aways doing the right thing. One of the sweetest little souls I have had the delight of teaching. I dream about my students growing up and one day visiting me, telling me stories of high school and college and getting jobs; stories of falling in love and having their own children. But, I never, ever expected to outlive any of my students. It makes me wonder about the things she learned in my class. Not just the things she learned about academia, but the things about life and living. Did I tell her that she was special and lovable? Did she know that I cared tremendously about her? Did I give her enough hugs, enough attention, enjoy praise? Did she see God in me? It is still just so unbelievable. And, I confess it makes me want to hold closer the ones who are still here with me, to cherish them so much. If she were able to turn her ear down and listen now I'd whisper "Sweet child, we love you much."

What I was *really* doing in Canada last week!

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You Are Creative

I was at the pottery studio a couple days ago and overheard a comment that made me smile. A girl about my age was talking about her endeavor in pottery. Apparently she is a number cruncher during the day and something inspired her to try out pottery. As she was talking she said, "I'm not ..." paused, "I am trying to stop myself from saying I'm not creative..." I have heard so many people say that they are not creative, and it was so good to hear someone say that they are not allowing themselves to say that. I've always felt that there is some creativity in each person, even if they don't realize it. It just has to be tapped.

People have told me that I'm creative because I am interested in doing things like pottery and beading and other crafts, and turn out some interesting products. Its nice to hear, but I don't feel any more creative than someone who would say, "I'm not creative." However, something in me feels fulfilled and peaceful and overflowingly happy when I am in the creative process. I glean immense pleasure from producing art. And, I think it has something to do with God's fingerprint on me. We're all created in God's image, and HE is the master creator. Creating somehow makes me feel in touch with God. And because we're all made in His image, I maintain that on some level we all must be creative. For proof I'd like to offer any one of my kindergarten classes. I can put out a huge box of crayons and markers and a stack of plain paper, and they all will be content for as long as I let them draw and color. We're all creative.

I was thinking about that word: creativity. People generally use that word to describe new, interesting ideas and original or unique work. But as I was thinking about it I realized that the word creativity comes from the word create, and the word create doesn't mean anything more than "to cause something to be" or "to make." Well, we all make things. Some people make grilled cheese sandwiches, some people make charts for business proposals, some people make ridiculously complicated software, some people make comfortable homes, and some people make elaborate cakes. Everybody makes something sometimes; a perfect pyramid of canned food, a tree house in the backyard, a happy birthday card, a snugly rolled sleeping bag, a precision shave, a detailed tour of a city... the list is endless. We all create. We all bare the fingerprint of the Master Creator. We all are creative. How freeing would it be for each of us to embrace this? What would you create if you believed you too were creative. You are.

"They Don't Know My Hip Pain."

This post has slowly been composed in my head for several weeks now. Its swirled around in my head while running and living my day-to-day life until now. Nothing specific has happened to prompt me to finally put it into words except that its time to get the thoughts out there. 

For the past several months I have been running on a relatively minor injury. I have tendinitis in my right hip-pelvis area, probably caused by running. I did have a small fall a couple months ago, and although it might have contributed to the painful hip, I don't know if it was the cause of the current pain. Anyhow, I have had X-rays and been examined by an orthopedist and currently am taking a round of NSAIDs to see if we can treat the injury orally before considering a shot. In reality, compared with other injuries people run on all the time, its really not severe enough pain to complain too much about. In fact, I feel silly spending all this time talking about it.  But I bring it up to explain what I really want to talk about: our perceptions of other people. 

When I go running I am acutely aware of other people noticing if I am a slow runner or a fast runner. That's to say I am extremely self-conscious. I hate the idea that people might see me out on a run and think "wow, she needs to kick it up a notch." I know I shouldn't worry about these other people's judgements, and I have really battled those thoughts to a point that I am comfortable in my own shoes out on a run. One line of battle I  use in my mental fight is, "they haven't seen the 4 miles I ran before this one," thinking that if that had seen those 4 previous miles they'd be easier on my current pace. Some other lines of battle are, "they aren't running these 8 miles with me," "they haven't seen where I started from," and"its so stinkin' HOT!" I know I am not the only person fighting mental battles when I run. As the old line goes, "running is 90% mental, the rest if physical." 

Lately though, I have been fighting my mental running battles with a new line and applying the same line to my daily non-running mental battles as well; "They don't know my hip pain." If someone were to see me running, and pass judgement that I was running too slow or with a bizarre gate, they'd have no idea I was running on an injury. But the point of this post isn't to make myself feel better about what other people think of me. It is about what I have learned in the process. You see, I am just as guilty of noticing other runners and thinking, "C'mon, we can make it up the hill a little faster," or something similar. I know that being a runner I should be more compassionate knowing too well the pains and struggles they may be facing. And now that I do have a legitimate reason for running slower than I want to, I realize all to well that I have NO idea what battles other people are facing. I don't know if their knees are throbbing or their backs are in stitches. I have no idea if they are wearing old running shoes or have the worst shin splints ever. I really have no idea what battles other people face on a run-to-run basis. 

Similarly, I have no idea what people are facing on a day-to-day basis either. I really have no idea why people do the things they do or how they do them. And running on a bum hip has caused me to realize that I need to be much more compassionate. So, my mantra lately has been "They don't know my hip pain." It's not a statement I say to make myself feel better when I do something ridiculous, rather, its a statement of reminder that I don't know your battles and I need to be nice. When I see someone taking up the entire aisle at the grocery store, I tell myself, "They don't know my hip pain." When I see someone taking a LONG time to make the right hand turn, I tell myself, "They don't know my hip pain." Its my reminder to myself that I ought to show some grace, some patience, and compassion. 

Flying over the Clouds

I have this thing for clouds. I love them. Its not obsessive or anything like that. I just love to lay on my back and look at the them. I think they are so beautiful. I especially love the clouds you get to see when I fly. I love breaking through the cloud cover on take off and looking out over the clouds like its a big fluffy blanket, or an ocean of whipped cream drenched in golden sunlight. There are few things more beautiful than that to me. While I was looking out over thoe clouds yesterday while flying from Toronto to Atlanta, it occurred to me that I wouldn't have gotten to see such beauty if we hadn't just gone through some turbulence on the flight. And I admit, regardless of the million flights I've made between Toronto and Atlanta, the turbulence always makes my heart pound. I get a little nervous when the plane shakes. And when I realized that I had to go through those nervous moments to see one of my favorite sights, it was like the voice of God whispering to me, reminding me that life is the same; To experience true beauty in life, we sometimes have to go through some turbulence. And that turbulence in life can be scary, but the view on the other side makes the scary worth it...

"Hear, O LORD, and be merciful to me; 

       O LORD, be my help.

You turned my wailing into dancing; 

       you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,

that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. 

       O LORD my God, I will give you thanks forever." 

~Psalm 30:10-12

"I will extol the LORD at all times; 

       his praise will always be on my lips.

My soul will boast in the LORD; 

       let the afflicted hear and rejoice.

Glorify the LORD with me; 

       let us exalt his name together.

I sought the LORD, and he answered me; 

       he delivered me from all my fears.

Those who look to him are radiant; 

       their faces are never covered with shame."

~Psalm 34:1-5

 

Talk on the phone or park your car. But don't do both

I drive a little car, so maybe I just don't understand. Parking my car takes about 5 seconds and no skill at all, so maybe my opinion comes from too narrow a focus. But, after watching someone struggle to park her gigantic SUV next to my little car, I decided that auto dealerships or the DMV ought to create a parking test for people who want to drive an SUV. If you can't park it, you can't drive it. If you can only get it into the spot kinda straight, then you can't drive it. I realized after I had created this lovely parking test in my head, that my little friend trying to park her unnecessarily large truck, was actually just talking on the phone and trying to park with one hand... Of COURSE you can't park a huge car straight with one hand! What was I thinking?

I Love My Neighborhood

Yesterday I drove out of the Highlands to go to Midtown. It's only a couple of miles, 10  minutes or so across town, 20 in bad traffic. Its closer than driving to work by a long shot. But, it just wasn't "home." I went to Midtown to find a dress for a my little brother's wedding, and although I found something, I really didn't like being in that part of town! The taffic was aweful, the roads were closed all over the place, and to make it worse, it was pouring rain. I went to a grocery store in Midtown instead of waiting until I got back to the Highlands, and I hated trying to find what I needed there! Its probably a little insane I think, but I immediately felt better when I turned off of Monroe Drive onto Virginia Ave and was back in "my neighborhood." I am inclined to say that there isn't anything special about my neighborhood, but that is a lie! Its a like a little town inside the city. Regular folks live here. I can walk to the grocery store or, like I did today, down to the village and buy my mom a mother's day gift. I can cross streets in the middle of the street because its all residential area and few people are zipping along these streets- except of course the one my building is on. There really is nothing I HAVE to leave this area for, except to go to work and church. I hope I can stay in this neighborhood a long time, or at least, one day find another that I love as much as this one. I know I am totally corny..! So now I feel like all the people in my building should all come out on the front lawn now and we can sing, holding hands in a circle, "these are the people in my neighborhood, in my neighborhood, in my neighborhood, yes these are the people in my neighborhood..." 

ING Marathon: Mile 20 Girl

I woke up bright and early Sunday to cheer on a few friends and running buddies who were running in the ING Marathon and 1/2 Marathon. To my delight, mile 20 of the marathon was set up right in front of my apartment! I was excited the way I imagine I would be excited if a parade was going by my house. I just love running! After cheering at mile 8 for my friends running the 1/2 (go Jessy, Duffy, Amy, and Laurie!), I headed back to my mile marker at home and cheered on the runners who were crossing the 20 mile mark. Yes I sat on the steps and cheered for absolute strangers; Yes it was cold; Yes I probably looked like a dork (and fun to tease; thanks guys)! At first I did kinda feel silly cheering for people I didn't know, but then runners started to smile and cheer and say, "Thank you for being here!" The longer I sat there, the more I realized how important it was for me to be sitting there, cheering with a combination of phrases like, "looking strong," "looking good," "almost there," "on the home stretch now," "dig deep," "hang in there," "Yay Mile 20!" "Good Job!" "You got this," and "Woohoo!" Ok, so maybe Emerson and the guys enjoyed cheering on my single-handed job of cheering on runners, maybe I did look silly hanging out by myself, but I don't care. I know how much that cheering means to a runner, even if they have no idea who I am, and for that reason and a love of the sport, I cheered, and cheered, and cheered, and cheered, foolish looking or not. And, afterwards, about 2 hours or so afterwards, I went inside and drank another nice, hot, toasty, cup of coffee and realized all that clapping and cheering had broken the skin on my hands. I had no idea at the time my skin was starting to crack. But now, its incredibly painful and nearly impossible to wash my hands. However, I am fairly certain that the pain in my hands is minimal to the pain those runners I cheered on are feelings now. Strangely, the cracks are motivating. They remind me of the struggle of those other runners and inspire me to push through fatigue and keep running when what I really want to do is not run another step. Somehow if they could find the mental and physical discipline to run pass my 20 mile marker, then I can find the discipline to run pass a 6, 7 or 8 mile marker! So now I add a giant "Thank you" to all the "Woohoo's." Thank you for running and inspiring me to run. You all are my real-life heros!

Coming Alive

It's Spring!
It's Spring!

Roll Down the windows
Turn up the music
Let down your hair
Feel that warm air!

It's Spring!
It's Spring!

Can't you smell it?
Can't you feel it?
I can taste it
I can hear it!

It's Spring!

and
I feel like I'm coming alive
again

Dear Neighbor

I don't know you. I don't know your name or which apartment you live in. I don't know even what you look like. I know you're a girl and I know that you ride a car pool at 7 am on Tuesdays. But if I passed you in the street, I wouldn't recognize you. And I am hoping that you wouldn't recognize me either. I just want to say, "I'm sorry." You see, you said, "Good Morning to me" and I didn't even look at you. I didn't mean to be rude. It's not normally like me to walk on by without looking at or speaking to someone who spoke to me first. But something was happening Tuesday morning that you had no idea about. Tuesday morning was crazy hair day at school; We were celebrating Dr. Seuss at school. Because I have beyond my fair share of hair, I always am able to create some sort of wild hair-do for crazy hair day. When I was leaving my apartment (late) I was REALLY hoping not to run into you, or any other neighbors, and when I saw you there, waiting for your ride, I had tried my very best to pass by without being noticed. I failed, and you said, "Good Morning." In my shame I couldn't even look at you, so I just mumbled something and ran on by. I'm sorry! But can you blame me? If you had crazy hair day at your job, and you left you apartment looking like a "who" from who-ville, would you be bold enough to greet people you'd never met before? Maybe you are that bold. Well, if you are brave enough to leave your apartment looking like this and still feel confident and act normal, I think you are my new hero. So I am sorry, hopefully you won't recognize me when my hair is normal and you'll always be wondering about who the crazy hair girl was. I've included a picture in my little note so you know who it is apologizing.

The Point of No Return

We all have these decisions to make in life.Sometimes we have to make a decision about proceeding or turning back and the wisest choice isn't always apparent. I'm not talking about major, life-changing decisions. I'm talking about everyday sorts of decisions, for example, take the downtown connector or stay on I-20 and go to the Moreland exit, get gas here for a $1.74 or hope that the next station will be $1.72. These everyday sort of decisions can stump me sometimes. usually I can make a pretty good choice, and then there are times, when right as I pass the point of no return I realize with that sinking feeling in my heart I have made the wrong choice. And of course, the worst the choice, the more "sinking" that feeling is. Today, I made a miserable, wrong decision that could have gone very bad, and it was just as I literally stepped across the point of no return that I realized it was a choice I made from a stubborn, silly heart.

To tell the story, I have to give you a tiny bit of background. I am training for another 1/2 marathon. The race is in a little less than 2 months, and my training is going really well. The race is all trails at a horse park, and I am looking forward to a different adventure with this race. Usually when folks train for races they complete shorter runs during the work week and have a long run on the weekends. This weekend I was on schedule to run 8 miles during my long run. I was excited to reach this benchmark because its an important distance in preparation for the rest of the training.

So, on to the story! This morning I woke up excited for the run, and ready to get going because I had several other things to do today. I knew it was going to be raining, but I also enjoy running in a light rain. As I headed out, it was already drizzling and the air was pretty cool but the first 4 miles were actually really comfortable. My lungs and legs felt great and the drizzle keep me feeling comfortable. I pulled on my jacket around mile 3 because the drizzling had started to turn into a real rain and I decided it would be best to stay as dry as possible. I didn't start to question the wisdom in my run until mile 4 when hail started falling. It was small hail, and although it stung a little bit, it wasn't enough to make me seriously consider ending my run short. In fact, it quickly stopped and turned into a more steady and heavy rain. At that point I started going over my options: finish now with a solid 4 miles, or run another mile and turn around and finish with an admirable 6 miles, or just press on to the end of the 8 miles. The rain must not have been falling very hard, because I didn't actually even consider ending the run. I knew I would continue on to the end. And so on I continued. At mile 5 I momentarily thought about heading home and getting out of the rain, but unfortunately, I didn't entertain the thought for more than 5 seconds. It wasn't until about 50 strides past that I realized I should have turned around and headed home. But at the end of those 50 strides I was at the bottom of a gigantic hill, and it was either run on and finish the 3 miles or run up the hill and head home. The option was clear: run through the miserable rain and finish the last 3 miles because I had passed the point of no return. It somehow seemed that at the bottom of that hill either choice would mean running in the pouring rain and being miserable and since my shoes were already soaked through, I might as well stick it out to the end. I will not lie and say I enjoyed the run. I hated every soaking minute of it and entertained my mind with rescue stories most of the way home. I envisioned any number of people who knew I was out running being worried and driving the neighborhood looking for me; a couple of police officers and ambulances drove by me and several times I considered waving them down and asking for a ride. Perhaps all the cold and wet went to my brain because once I was SURE I saw a familiar pair of long legs and a Ford right ahead of me the had pulled off the side of the road waiting to take me home. But I was wrong. It turned out to be a Frontier of the same color and in the rain I am sure you could understand how I could mistake a frontier for a ford. So on I ran, and ran, and ran, until I ran up the stairs of my building and struggled with freezing fingers to punch the code into my front door and manage to wrangle it open so that I could take on another set of stairs and then fumble with the key to my front door. After successfully forcing my frozen fingers through these tasks which ought to be easy, I immediately removed all my wet running clothes and went start for the hot shower which I stood under and said, "ow, ow, ow" until the tingling in my limbs stopped and I felt human again. And as I drank the hot coffee to warm myself from the inside out after my shower, all I could think was, "why didn't you just come home after 4 miles?" Maybe one day I won't be so stubborn, but today I am just thankful I made it home before it started to snow.

My Newest Love Affair

When I was a child someone asked me what my favorite color was, and when I didn't have an answer, it occurred to me that I was suppose to have a favorite. Before then, I never really thought about which color I liked above all the others, I just enjoyed them all. So, as that child, I somehow decided that one of the colors were my favorite. I think at the time I choose green. I remember having a green pair of shorts and jeans and being disappointed that I couldn't find green nail polish. A few years down the road I decided that green was not really the color I loved, and decided I wanted a new favorite and at that point I picked red. It seems weird to me now that I would determine that a color would now be my new favorite, as if I could make myself like it above all others, but I was determined at the time that red was going to be my favorite. And for a long time I really did love red more than all other colors. When I read those silly personality indicators based on your favorite color, I always identified with the red traits the most, so I knew I had picked right. Then, as time passed, red seemed to harsh and I found myself gravitating towards pink. Pink clothes, pink shoes, pink accessories, pink, pink, pink! This kinda made me uncomfortable though because it seemed much more prissy than I felt inside. Still, pink was what I always picked somehow. The pink years lasted about as long as the red years. Then without notice something new started happening. And, it seemed to coincide with new things happening in my life also. Suddenly this new color started to attract me, and before I knew it, I wanted everything in the new color. I bought a watch, then a dress, and then a bikini, and soon I had another dress and some tank tops and a V-neck sweater, and before long I realized, I absolutely loved everything that was yellow. I found myself buying yellow tshirts and yellow towels and another yellow dress and my newest yellow purchase: a beautiful yellow bag that I adore. Now, everything that I see that is yellow I love. It reminds me a sunny happy days, and I absolutely can note get enough of it.

The Front Porch

One of the great joys of my life right now is sitting on the front porch. I love to be outside, and since my porch is screened in, its like being outside, but not. Its like having the pleasure of being outside, without the bugs. I sit out here and watch the traffic go by and I send email and I read books. It's just so peaceful out here on the porch. I guess many people wouldn't consider it peaceful because the traffic is constant. But I don't mind that. Its a sharp opposite balance that brings me deep delight- The traffic is constant and never peaceful, people are rushing and walking and hurrying to get somewhere, the traffic lines up all the way down the street to my building, people hate having to take my road south to go home. But Me, I am still and quiet and serene, the exact opposite of the traffic, and I like to watch it and be still and hear the sounds of the city all around me. I guess it might be harder to explain than I thought it would be. I like to wonder where all those people are going. Perhaps its like the combination of mountains and valley's. The mountain seems quite high from a flat place, but from a valley it seems exceptionally high. So, perhaps because I am being still right on the porch near where people are still rushing and being busy, it makes my stillness seem more still and satisfying. Someone said once: "as much of an annoyance that it may be [the traffic], it is nice at the same time. You're sitting in your place relaxed, candles burning, cozy and warm, slowed from your busy life. Then, outside the chaos continues. Sounds of people frantically going from a to b to c back to a. Ambulances, police, marta, and the occasional drunken bum stumbling up the street shouting a loud. City life, isn't it great." I couldn't agree more.

Sitting on the porch, drinking Nick's last beer, and freezing my fingers off!

Recently I have been told that its just impossible for someone to be as sweet as I seem to be. And the truth is, I'm actually not! I am actually not at all just sweetness and niceness. I sometimes wake up really grumpy (ask Jessy who got shushed by the grumpy me). And even though it might seem like a good thing to just be sweet and never mean, its actually kinda a sickening thought that someone might never have a bad moment. And I know that I am super good at hiding my flaws and plastering a smile on my face like everything is right in the world. But here is the truth: I can be a regular infuriating girl that you might want to light on fire sometimes... Seriously.

So, as evidence of this claim, here are my particular flaws:

-When I am focused, I am absolutely unable to deal with interruptions unless its someone I like. I almost WILL the person to go away.

-Sometimes I don't answer the phone on purpose. I see who's calling and just ignore it. I don't press the ignore button though because I am smart enough to know you can tell when you've been sent to voice mail. I just let you think that I missed the call

-I talk too much. I could talk the paint off a wall. And other times I don't talk enough. I turn silent because I am lost in my own thoughts.


-When something bad happens, I automatically say bad words, repeatidly. It's usually a long string of s**t. If there are other people around, it's usually in my head, but if I'm alone, I just say it outloud.

-I am an aggressive and bad driver. I have cut people off, ran red lights, speed like I have somewhere important to be. I sit behind slow people and fume that they can't go any faster.

-Before I knew my neighbor, I would put my high heels on and stomp on the floor on purpose when he had friends over and they were louder than I wanted them to be. I've never actually admitted to this until now.

-I think about all the wrong things at all the wrong moments. I can't hear people say certain everyday words without automatically thinking of the naughty meaning.

-I think Angelia Jolie is absolutely unattractive and I think Brad is nutso.

-I cry too much for any reason that seems remotely reasonable to cry. I cry when it's the day before my period, I cry when I haven't had enough sleep, I cry when I haven't had enough to eat.

-I drink out of the cartoon. ALL of them. I don't buy milk, but everything else in my fridge that is a drink, I drink it straight from the container. The juice, the wine, the tonic. Whatever's in my fridge, I've drank from it. (sorry if I just grossed you all out)

-I am horrible about returning books I've borrowed. I still have library books from I don't know when. Come to think of it, I am horrible at returning anything I have borrowed

-I use other people's shampoo when I use their shower.

-I squeeze the toothpaste from the middle just because I can and its mine and no one is here to fuss with me about how I squeeze my toothpaste.

-It takes me about a week to wash wine glasses

-My closet is a disaster. I do the laundry, fold it all up neatly, and never get around to putting it all away. So the dirty laundry and the clean laundry end up getting all mixed up.

That's all I can think of or admit to right now