Finding The Quiet

We often forget how demanding life is, how hectic our days become when routines are being followed. We rarely have time for the quiet moments in our lives. For the past two months, my husband and I have faithfully attended Planet Fitness in our area on a daily basis. It is a routine that has truly turned our physical fitness around and has definitely had its benefits. I love getting to spend this time with David getting in shape, but what I love even more about this time at the gym is it gives me a chance to spend time in a quiet mode, (yes-with headphones on it can be quiet) meditating and praising my Lord and Savior, Jesus. Finding that important quiet time, when nothing is interfering with my life, my mind, my heart, is important so that I can hear my Heavenly Father speak gently to me. Quiet times with Him seem to complete me.

Being a teacher and working with older students, I have had to really learn to listen. Hearing what is being said by a student, a boss, or a co-worker are so important; especially to be able to understand the message being directed to me. But to listen, I  must be silent. As my years grow upon me, I have discovered that I can listen so much more easily than when I was younger. Does it have something to do with the pituitary gland and the growth hormone? Hmmmm...well, perhaps. I really think it has to do with maturing. I see it that we have said enough, and probably MORE than enough, during our youth. For many of us, we have probably said more than our share of things that we regret, and as we age, we NEED no more regrets. I smile as I say that; David suggests that I don't talk about things like I used to. I just feel I need to spend the rest of my life LISTENING to what I have missed.  

The same listening ability is important regarding our Heavenly Father; but first, we must learn to shut out things in our life that may cause distractions and interference. Our lives are just too complicated, and should not be, so we can allow God to speak with us. We have to keep our distracting moments to a minimum so we can allow Him to lead us. Our jobs, hobbies, even keeping our children busy and active, can all be pre-occupying moments; moments that we miss that quiet conversation with the Lord.

My gym time is also called my "Jesus Time" because I am able to pray, acknowledging Him in my life, recognize His healing abilities, and give Him thanks in such a joyous manner.  

Both David and I have lowered our heart rates almost 30%, both have toned up muscles in every part of our bodies, and we have taken out sodium and high fat content foods from our diets. All of this came about whenever we saw sight of our 50th birthdays. He and I believe it is truly important to get our lives in shape to overcome the effects of aging.

So with that said, I just say "rest" and "listen"...our Father would appreciate it. 

A Year As a Ya-Ya

My precious little grandson, Adam, turned the age of one on Sunday, January 25, 2015. We had a small family celebration at our home, having a grand time, while watching Adam enjoy his gifts, "dig-in" to his small and colorful Monsters University cake, and explore the house on two feet since he has mastered the gift of walking. 

While Adam visited with us, I recognized a calming and pleasant feeling that I have missed since the children, themselves, were small like him; that exploration of innocence that all younger children experience as they pitter and patter throughout the bare floors of the halls and rooms, touching this and touching that. It is enough to make one tear up; for those of us older, maturer, and graying (in some of the most exposed places), we have an understanding that life does not stand still; children grow too quickly and manage to be here one day, and gone the next. 

Adam is very precious to us all and will lead the way for other grandchildren to come and take his place pittering and pattering barefooted on the floors of our home, exploring the grounds of our property, and completing that emptiness that older couples often encounter. Until then, David and I will continue to find more ways to love Adam, teach him the wonderful things about our world that surrounds us, and show him how to have fun naturally, as our parents and grandparents taught us.

Friends and Family

The First First Party With Both Families

MeMe and Papa

Adam Attempting To Open a Box...Again

Little Man With Daddy and Uncle Bradley

My Old Pleather Classroom Sofa

The other day, I glanced down at my student sitting patiently in front of my desk. His arms were laying across his chest and his head resting against the back of my sofa. For a moment, I believed him to be asleep, his breathing shallow and calm. He was waiting for me to review his work for him so that he could move forward in my Chemistry Course. But, as I flipped through my list of students on my screen to find his name, it dawned on me how privileged I was over the many years to have been able to have hundreds of students sitting in the same position, head laying back with their eyes resting shut awaiting for me to grade their student work. I smiled, thinking fondly of my old black pleather sofa and how many children I was privileged to have sit there in my career. What a kind and fond honor, I imagined.  My sofa and I have seen some years, been through numerous experiences, and have grown older; much better today than when we first started. The years that have accrued have been part of a remarkable journey.

My black "pleather" sofa was a gift I delivered to my students in my science classes after having completed training back in 1997 in learning styles development. I had decided that students would be more comfortable in class having some "comforts of home" within the four walls of an institutional place such as school. The idea worked miracles for many of my students, especially those who had difficulty paying attention sitting in those hard stools and desks that were offered to them inside a science classroom. Along with the sofa, I implemented cushions and other things to promote coziness. I recall how my method of classroom environmental settings were met with odd looks from other peers within my profession. Regardless of the snubbing I received, I believed that my students' success was first priority, not their opinions. My data showed that what I was doing always seemed to work to get the best from my students.

Looking at the many years of use my black "pleather" sofa  has endured over the time that I have been in education, I find it has become a reminder of what my life as a teacher, an administrator and now as a facilitator, has become throughout the past 25 years. When I first got my sofa, it was rather rigid, a practically new piece to my collection of classroom finds, and its comfort was not very nice to the parts coming into contact with it, either.  The cushions did not sit favorably; in fact, the molded material was all but relaxing to sit on. The same was true of my beginning years as an educator; I was rigid, new, and not comfortable at all in my element.  Like my sofa, there were many parts to my life during this time in my career that, as I look back now, were not very favorable. As a matter of fact, I cannot imagine how I could have been so cold, uptight, and inflexible. I saw myself as having to fit a mold based on my environment and the people with whom I was around. I needed a change. I needed to grow softer.

I decided to move to a new environment. I carried my black pleather sofa along with me. There, in the new surroundings of my school, I experienced a totally unique element; a family like atmosphere that I found I needed and loved and desired. The new conditions that I had learned to adore at this strangely wonderful school bled over into the manner in which I treated my students. I discovered a different person each time I looked into my mirror; a person growing from within; eager to face challenges and grow.  In this current environment, I found some peace and found myself. My new school came with wonderful demands that helped me to soften and develop. I expanded my way of thinking and an created a newer methodology in my means of educating young people. I implemented project based learning modules into my lessons while using more and more learning styles than ever before. My black sofa got a work out as well. It wasn't a show piece anymore, rather an active device used to teach and reach my students. More and more, the cushions softened and molded to numerous students that earned the privilege to sit on it. Students worked ever so diligently to be allowed to enjoy its coziness while taking notes and working on projects.  It softened and became gently aged; like myself.

My journey continued with my positions in Richland One; my sofa followed along to each school at which I was blessed to work. It was more than a tag-along piece; it was a part of me. This piece of furniture represented pieces of my life. And like me, my black pleather sofa began showing its age during this time. A scar here; a small hole there; a couple of dents in the legs, and some cosmetic attention that a nice polish covered. Yes, it was very much like me. I smile thinking that before now, I would never have written a short story, an analogy, to include a comparison of me with a sofa, but, I am so much more comfortable with myself than before, thank the Lord. The sofa has represented me kindly and, to some extent, will indefinitely. And as I reach the end of my twenty-fifth year as an educator, I am quite pleased at what my resume displays; at the lives I have touched; at the manner in which I have learned to reach students; at the knowledge and wisdom I have acquired; at who I have become.  I know my husband and family would agree. I am sure my students would , too.  As for my sofa, we have many more years together; all of our sagging parts, our weathered and worn exterior, and the beat up structures that hold each of us together. Yes, we have many more kind and privileged years to keep reaching students in an honorable fashion.

Making Up Moments

People that I have conversed with over my professional and personal life have usually used the word "moment" to describe his or her present time or a particular situation having occurred in that person's lifetime. As I pondered the word "moment," a familiar song, "One Moment In Time," popped into my mind, sung by the infamous Whitney Houston (...and now, I will have an "ear-worm" for the rest of the day by this memory). The lyrics are so meaningful and prophetic...the writers, Bettis and and Hammond wrote of being the best person one could possibly be, reaching total fulfillment in life while making dreams reality; and then, in the end, the person making the most of their life seems to be able to say, "I will be free, I will be free." Or so the writers would have us think. Moments...moments. Are we fulfilling our purpose within each moment that we live? What  testimony are each of us reaching as we live day to day? With that said, why is it that as people grow older, they seem to be bombarded by regret? I continue to ponder "moments".

Every day, I find myself in "moments" that are so important to me as a wife, a mother, as a daughter and granddaughter, as a teacher and as a friend, and these moments make me who I am. These moments are composed of millions of decisions that I make from the time I awaken until the second I fall asleep in the evening. If any person were to document each waking second of the day, recording what is occurring in his or her life, what would each person be doing? How would people be living their moments, whether the moment being measured is that exact second or a measurement from an extended period of time? What would the recorded data read?

I came to the conclusion last year, as I crept upon my 49th birthday, that I wanted to make up some moments in my life; moments that I chose NOT to do the right thing, that I didn't help someone, that I made the wrong comment, or that I failed to lend a hand. I now know, from working daily with students who could be considered underprivileged and who are considered by the world's terms, "at-risk", that I want to make up moments to serve others, looking for ways to make someone see the light, the good, in me; to be a blessing and an encouragement to others as Jesus desired of his disciples. Basically, I want to help others "at-risk" of becoming what they were meant to become at birth!

When I look to the Bible to find those scriptures to inspire me to make the "world a better place," I always seem to fall upon the words of Paul. Everyone knows of Paul, the also-known-as "Saul" and murderer of the followers of Jesus. And, with that said, it is even MORE important to point out that Paul's life was an awesome inspiration and testimony to life; one man's journey to "make up moments" for his Savior, Jesus; and "make up moments" to overcome the consequences of his past. One cannot say that the darkest decisions of our lives do not overwhelm and haunt us. Even with the understanding that all our sins and darkest moments were washed away by the blood of our precious Lamb of God on that cross, we are still often consumed with the memory of those things from our past that we dislike and relive them whenever that memory is triggered. I believe Paul experienced a difficult time dealing with his merciless actions once he found Christ. I know he had triggers that caused him to relive the situations. But, I also learned from Paul that ONLY by allowing Christ to have dominion over our minds, our thoughts, our dreams can we be permitted to move forward and overcome those triggers...I have learned that we cannot allow our past to dictate who we are and what we are supposed to become. We must relinquish our thoughts and minds to our Heavenly Father.

I had a conversation with my son and eldest daughter the other day regarding their abilities to look ahead and begin expecting for what was to come. Both of my oldest children, like the rest of the human population, often looks to the past, wading in the miseries and bad thoughts of "what could have been" and the "whys" and "how comes," and what I shared with him was this, PEOPLE ARE NOT IN CONTROL. Whatever is going on in an individual's "moment" in life, the conclusiveness always ends up falling back upon the notion that people are never in control. No matter how hard one tries to determine his or her destiny or method to freedom, people have to come to the conclusion that God is the only difference between the sun rising and the sun setting on our lives...and everything in between belongs entirely to Him, whether the person is a believer or not. Sometimes, that belief aspect is the most difficult to understand, to grasp hold of, and, regrettably, not being able to do those things holds up most of our blessings, especially if our belief system lacks the ability to acknowledge a higher power of existence. And as my mother always says, "People have the right to be wrong!"  Perhaps, but to my experience, it is those that do believe that oftentimes hinder the belief systems because of their own personal demonstrations.

My youngest child was in deep thought the other day and asked me what was the soul purpose of people on Earth. When I began to share my beliefs, she stopped me mid-sentence and stated, "without using religious factors." Well, I was quite shocked. Here is my child, one who has been brought up in a Christian environment, asking me to NOT include religion in my discussion of the moment she was having. Really? "To thine be the Kingdom..." I said. I concluded our conversation explaining how EVERYTHING is out of our hands and all in His. Our purpose, our moments in our life belong solely to HIM.  Nothing else matters. It is the moments in our lifetime that we give to Him for HIM to work within our lives...because NOTHING we do could EVER measure up to His grace and forgiveness...and perfect plan.

Making up moments within an individual's lifetime is valuable; but, even more valuable is making up moments with the notion of allowing Jesus to be a guide throughout the process. As the guide, a person's notions of "moments" cannot be self-serving, but, rather, Christ serving.  That dominion in one's life can be highly effective, aiding in exponential growth as a person and as a Child of God, developing our Souls into a maturation only a person can experience with Him. Meanwhile, He is able and willing to remove regret and those insane self-control factors that so often inhibits His existence, leaving Him to respond within humans as a creative companion, a mutualistic partner, and a protecting deity. These are the supernatural spiritual ways He can  connect with humans and more importantly, let's not forget, through His Son, Jesus Christ; the reason behind human existence. Making up moments via our Heavenly Father makes us able to be free; the "God's freedom" that is expressed in 1 Peter 2:16 and Romans 8:1-4. Don't you just love our God and His way of making us ONE with Him?

Becoming a "Ya-Ya"

On January 25, 2014, David and I became the proud grandparents of a precious little baby boy, Adam Joseph. It was a day that we recorded on video so as not to ever forget the excited feelings of becoming grandparents, nor forget the over anxious nervousness of watching our oldest child and son become a father for the first time. I discovered on that day that no matter what is said, what is done, or what is given or taken away, there is little that can destroy the moment of pure love when you look into the eyes of that first grand baby.  It was pure joy!

I packed for the hospital with anticipation that the labor of my daughter-in-law would be short. I carried the necessary items for David and me that included blankets and pillows, camcorder and camera, phone chargers and a large surge protector, water and snacks, makeup, toothbrushes and mouth wash. It was all we needed to make it through the evening. David was reluctant to want to leave before midnight, so I set the alarm to get us up by 12:30 a.m. for a quick shower. Even at the alarm, David kept pestering me that our daughter-in-law would not have this baby until after dawn. How right he was; however, I chose to be the mother-in-law that was ever-present and available for anything, and both of us made it to the hospital before 1:15 a.m., ready for action.

As we entered the emergency room area, you would never have known we had an emergency. We WAITED for almost 35 minutes before anyone was able to speak to us. The skeleton crew at 1:35 a.m. was a bit busy; or so it seemed, and it took even longer for the security personnel  to show up to make us eligible to pass through the locked doors. ID's and all had to be shown and as we waited for verification, our daughter-in-law's family came out of the hospital area. It seemed our daughter-in-law's younger brothers were heading back home to rest rather than wait with the rest of the grandparents for the anticipated moment of our precious delivery. They shared with us necessary bits of information and went on their way; and my husband glared at me intently, knowing he had given up a peaceful night's sleep in his king sized bed for a restless evening in a chair. I smiled and said nothing as we entered the hospital with our "visitor's pass" glued to our chests. It was a quiet walk to the Labor and Delivery ward.

We entered the Labor and Delivery waiting room and were met with a bitter coldness, much like the temperature from outside. It was cold. No, it was very cold and ached my arthritis to the bone! Apparently, from details later discovered by the maintenance workers coming in and out of the area, the heat in the waiting room was not working and the temperature remained at a high of 55 degrees. David and I found out through the night that the stairwell was warmer than the room itself and we took turns defrosting in that area. For the most part, we both remained bundled up in our coats and scarves and blankets, watching Turner Classic Movies throughout the early morning hours.

At dawn, there was still no baby, to our dismay. The desire to meet this little man of ours had heightened our senses. The high level of anticipation could be felt among all of the grandparents. And the mother? Sweetly nestled in her hospital bed with her pillows supporting her feet and back. She was resting after receiving her epidural. That, my dear, is a cure for any kind of pain!

While our daughter-in-law rested, everyone decided around 6:30 a.m. to make a quick visit to the cafeteria downstairs for a hearty breakfast. David decided to stay in the frigid waiting room in case anything happened or anyone arrived while the rest of us were away. The cafeteria was pleasantly the warmest region of the hospital. Apparently, that area had heat. Our daughter-in-law's parents, Dan and Jan, bought David and me breakfast that morning and that was such a delight to our taste buds. Sausage biscuits with grape jam and butter and a HOT roasted coffee! A tasty combination for souls who have cut out bread from their diets! The coffee was warming and heated up our tired and cold bodies.

The paternal great-grandparents-to-be, Larry and Barbara, arrived at 9:30 a.m. with a bag full of special danishes from Camden's most famous local baker, Mr. Pete. They were delicious! After taking on the sausage biscuits, we realized our diets were shot for the day, so pastries became part of our morning. Raspberry and cream cheese filled pastries and praline delights were among the selections. Pastry bread aroma filled the cold room, warming the senses of those friends arriving for any news of the baby. Phone calls galore came across the three phones David and I had available in the waiting area, while Face Book posts and comments rang out, friends wanting pictures of the action and such. David remained in charge of the social media via phone calls and texts. He was so good in that department. Friends from Columbia, Darlington, Camden and Lugoff kept his fingers working for hours. I, on the other hand, talked with my parents and others we knew who worked at Kershaw Health and had read that we were awaiting the arrival of Adam Joseph. It was so kind of them to check on us and acknowledge our son and daughter-in-law.

At 11:35, I heard some commotion from the labor room and saw my son walking down the hallway towards us with such an animated look upon his face that both David and I knew something was or had happened that was joyous! His black shirt he had worn was soaked through around the neck and his eyes were puffy and red; not from a sleepless night, but from tears...he had been crying tears of jubilance!

"He is 21 inches long, Mom, and he weighs 8.25 pounds!" he exclaimed in his excitement. My heart about leaped with elation! I watched as David's face turned red as he smiled ear to ear, grabbing up the video camera and camera that were both on charge. My mother looked up puzzled seeing everyone moving about.

"Is he here?" my mother asked.

"Dad, he is beautiful and he is so long!" cried our son. They embraced each other in a connection between two generations of men; one becoming, one evolving into a new role.

The event left us all speechless; our grandson left us all in awe; his adorable face, his beautiful hands and feet, and his wandering eyes in his attempt to take in the lights and sounds and emotions were all overwhelming. Everyone cried. It was the happiest cry I had ever had. I still, to this day, feel the elated emotions I felt that day  each time I hold him in my arms. It refreshes and renews me like a Ya-Ya is supposed to feel.

Addendum: David and I discovered later in the evening of Saturday, January 25, 2014, that Adam Joseph, or "AJ" as David sweetly adorns him, was born on his deceased Great-Great Grandfather, Bomer Hall's, and my beloved deceased cousin, Roger Jennings Davis's, birthdays. What a wonderful way to celebrate Adam Joseph's day by remembering others so precious to our family's lives and to his heritage.