Someone mistook me for a mother the other day, and I loved it.

I am fortunate enough to be in a line of work where I get to be with kids every day in a role as close to parenting as I've ever experienced. There are days when I am the one to wake them up, help them dress, get their breakfasts, and do their hair before even beginning what my self-appointed job title defines as "home education teaching". (Yes, I homeschool people's kids.)

It's been a journey learning to work together, and working to learn together.  It took me quite a while to earn the trust needed to teach and discipline these kids that aren't mine, and there have been plenty of days when I was happy to sign off at the end of my contracted time and give them back to their parents while I reveled in the freedom of childless singleness. 

There have even been times when I have considered chasing the glory of the corporate world, abandoning my job that has no upward career path (heck, I am making this up as I go), no benefits (unless you count shared fruit snacks), and no recognition (except from the wonderful parents I work with).

But the other day I took two of my students on a field trip to the library, and a volunteer stopped us to talk on our way in.  "What beautiful girls! Are you excited to go to the library with mommy?" 

Now this isn't the first time this has happened with me and children. But usually the kids are quick enough to correct with, "She's our teacher!" Or whatever I happen to be to them at the time. But here the girls just smiled and nodded, and the youngest slipped her hand into mine as we continued into the library.

My first emotion was humility. I felt so honored to be considered enough of a friend and protector to these children that they would allow me the title of Mother. 

And then I thought of my growing up years, and how one of my favorite things to do was take my collection of younger siblings on a walk to the nearest drugstore, give them all 50¢, and let them pick out their own treat to eat while we walked the half mile back home. I'm not sure why this was so fun for me (since I came out $3-$5 poorer every time) except that there would invariably be someone who asked me about "my kids" or made some other reference to me being a parent of at least a few of them. I must have loved playing "house" or "mom" more than I would ever admit to, because these are seriously some of my favorite memories.

A certain cousin of mine and I would write letters back and forth through our teenage years, and I remember a letter of hers at the age of 15 where she told me of her excitement at the thought of being pregnant. The miracle of growing another human inside of you was such a wonder, and while she was content to wait for the right time and place, she was looking forward to that experience. I, on the other hand, was terrified of being pregnant. Aaaahhh!!! (It still scares me, P.S.) But one thing that I knew for sure was that I wanted to be a mother, and for that I was willing to face my fear (someday).

Someday I want to fall asleep in a rocking chair with my baby. Someday I want to have to settle an argument between my kids about who gets to sit on my lap during storytime. Someday I want to be the crazy soccer mom that brings oranges and carrots to practice instead of Capri Suns, because those are just full of sugar. Someday I want to be the first person that they cry for when they are hurt, or sad, or happy, or anything else (although I'll hopefully share this with their father), because they know that I (and we) care the most.

So even though there are days when they drive me crazy, or when a lucrative office job sounds tempting, there are more times when I am so grateful to do what I do for a living. I'm so grateful for these children, and for all the children I have ever worked with, who gave me a small taste of what it might feel like to be a mother. And thank you to the volunteer who mistook me for a mother, because I can't think of higher praise. 

A Tribute to Good Men

Today I am feeling extremely blessed by the number of good men that I have been surrounded by my whole life. First there is my wonderful father, who from the beginning would "tickle-wrestle" with my siblings and I, would play sports with me, and who always knows what to say to motivate me in the right direction (even if he has to use reverse psychology, like when he suggested I drop out of college - sneaky move, Dad!) My daddy is the only person I have ever trusted to carry me up and down stairs - random fact, I have a fear of both heights and stairs, so it's a big deal - and his knowledge about so many things had me subconsciously convinced that he knew everything until I was 14 years old. (I can't even remember the question I asked him then, just the shock when I heard the words "Hmm, I don't know.") But even beyond those things I love that my Dad is a good-hearted man who wants to serve and help others, and his willingness to share and give have always inspired me.

Then there are my AMAZING brothers, who are my best friends (with my sisters, of course), my heroes, and my burly and hairy cheerleading squad! There are so many things that I love about each of them, I just wanted to write a quick tribute to each. And these are just the first things that come to mind.

Aaron: runs with me at my pace so we can talk, when I know his legs are capable of so much more.
Dane: co-conspirator in crime for the first...16 years of my life, and we understand each others jokes.
Ammon: is willing to throw a football with me even when he has homework, and kept me entertained (and in shape) for years by always trying to have the last touch in a fight!
Lehi: taught me how to love kids (when he was a baby) and still calls to talk to me.
Moroni: ("My-Roni") took me on the AWESOME date where I re-learned how to land a front flip and is doing a biking trip with me this summer!
Helaman: my scrabble challenger and Taco Bell companion, and yet he still enjoys eating my healthy concoctions.
Mosiah: teases me, defends me, and will ALWAYS beat me in the one-armed tickling contest.
Alma: understands (and shares) my love for food, draws the most amazing pictures, and keeps me on schedule.
Benjamin: (Bean) gives great hugs, has a very creative imagination, and isn't in a hurry for me to get married. (I don't blame anyone who is, since I definitely fall into that category, but he is refreshingly oblivious to my age and status.)
And Jonny, my brother by marriage: gives great dating advice, set me up with my semi-permanent companion (my iPhone), and puts up with me in softball. ;)

And then there are my grandpas, uncles, cousins, nephews, teachers, religious leaders, and friends who have all helped and encouraged me at some point in my life. Chances are if you are reading this you fall in one of those categories, so THANK YOU! The world isn't easy on men these days, and I just want you to know what it has meant to me that you are honorable men who really are trying to do right. Good men, I salute you.

Voyages and Veggie Tales

For the dwindling Veggie Tale enthusiasts, this is a post for you. And for the rest this may require a little bit of explaining and maybe even a small investment of time and attention, but I hope it will be worth it to you. There is a Veggie Tales song called 'The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything' and if you haven't seen/heard it, then you need to stop right now and google it. I'll wait.

Okay, so now I can tell you. I am in Boston!!! Only for about 90 more minutes, but I have been here for four days and it has been amazing. I am starting to feel like I have a lot of favorite places in this world, but Boston is now definitely one of them.

For the last several weeks I have been mourning the fact that I am missing fall. Tucson, from what I have heard, doesn't really have a fall season, and when I asked someone if any of the leaves change color they actually laughed at me. (I wasn't offended and I guess I should have expected it; I have never seen a red, orange, or yellow cactus or palm tree, either.) Oregon has a spectacular fall season, and I have several personal traditions during that time. I rake and jump in leaves, I go running through the "highway of fire" (Teal Blvd in Beaverton when the leaves change), I make pumpkin cookies, and my favorite activity: I collect my favorite leaves and photocopy them in color to do artwork with later. The sadness of missing these things was almost as acute as when I missed blackberry season (and I am not joking when I say that nearly brought me to tears every time I thought about it).

So what did I do? Planned a trip to Boston, of course! I had a friend out there that was kind enough to let me visit, and over the course of the weekend my longing for autumn was appeased. The first day I saw Boston itself, and I don't even remember everything I saw, but the best part of the whole day was buying apples from street vendors and eating them while wandering the narrow but stately streets. The next day was Gloucester (pronounced "Gloster"), which is a coastal town, likely responsible for your weekly dose of fish sticks. It was so fun! I experienced the Atlantic on a whale-watching vessel, I walked up and down the wharf watching the ships, and I carried two live lobster around in a bag for a good portion of the day. (They weren't alive for part of the trip...whoops.) Saturday night found me wandering Little Italy in the north end of Boston, and after some cannoli and lobster for dinner I was ready to call it a day.
Sunday was calmer with church, followed by a walk through the cemetery and an impromptu tour of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's home. Did you know that it was George Washington's headquarters for 9 months at the start of the revolutionary war? I didn't. But now I do!

Today, my last day, I went to Concord, the home of such literary giants as Emerson, Thoreau, and Alcott. I walked all around the city and saw their homes, the Old North Bridge, and other gems of American history while gathering leaves and taking pictures. I talked to the locals, was asked for directions by the tourists, and even stopped at Dunkin' Donuts to get a bagel with pumpkin spread for lunch. It was nearly time to catch my train back, and I was nearly ready when - tender mercy - I happened upon a color copy center! I hurried in to arrange and copy my leaves, the precious proof of fall, and in that moment I felt my journey was fulfilled.

I am content to be returning to Tucson, but to any of you observing the leaves this season I would just say, aren't they marvelous?!? I will never tire of looking at them. And although I don't know when, I am sure that I will be back to Boston, now that I have graduated from being a pirate that doesn't do anything.

If I were a Disney Princess...

Today one of my students likened me to Ariel, the Disney mermaid, not because I have flowing red hair (because I don't) or because I roam the ocean in a seashell bra (because I DEFINITELY don't), but because I lost my voice. Utterly. Completely. Obviously.

It started on Tuesday, with a slight sore throat and a little bit of a tickle. On Wednesday morning my voice was already giving out in certain tonal ranges, and by this morning (Thursday) I was reduced to a breathy whisper, understood only when coupled with absolute silence and lip-reading. I have only lost my voice two or three other times in my life, although never to this extent, and I always thought it was kind of fun to hear it squeak and see what it would do when I tried to say things normally. Of course, I never had anything really important to do then.

Some things are really hard to do without a voice. I have learned what a lot of those things are in the last 36 hours: asking for directions, ordering at a restaurant, answering the phone, and especially teaching first grade. I went to school determined to make it until lunch, and greeted all of my students with a soundless "good morning" at the door. They thought it was funny, and some were genuinely concerned, but overall they behaved very well. I wrote out my comments, instructions, and questions on the whiteboard and I was pleased to see everyone trying to read the messages, even the less competent readers. They helped each other to understand what I was saying, and I had several volunteers for a personal assistant.

But even with the best behavior, it was pretty challenging to teach a math lesson, and phonics was out of the question, so I sent them off to lunch and called in for a substitute. How fun! Now I had the rest of the afternoon free!

First I wanted to call my mom. Wait...she can't hear me. Hmmm, I thought, maybe I will go find out more about that piano playing job at the retirement center! Nope, that is out, too. I ended up spending a silent afternoon cleaning my apartment and taking a nap, and I was sad to not be able to sing as I did the dishes, because that is one of the few times when I do. I think I normally identify more with Cinderella (just because of the activities that bring on her spontaneous bursts of song), but for this week I guess I am stuck with a closer resemblance to the Disney girl in the seashell bra.

P.S. If I had to choose a Disney character that I identify most with, it would undoubtedly be Meg from Hercules.

Home-Making

This week in class we were learning the vocabulary word 'habitat' and the definition given in the text was 'where something makes its home.' This started me thinking about homes. My students' idea that a home is "the place where you live" didn't satisfy me, and even "where your family is" or "where you've been the longest" seemed too narrow of a description. The only qualifier that encompassed all of my feelings was this: A home is where part of your heart will be forever.

I feel like I've had a lot of homes already. Oregon, of course, where I have spent so many wonderful years with family and friends, is home. So are certain places in Utah where I have lived while going to school. Belgium is another; even though I was only there for a few months, it was a home by the time I left.

Unlike Voldemort, who was unaware of his splitting soul when he inadvertently created a seventh horcrux, I always know when a piece of my heart is left behind. I remember the day I arrived by boat in Cagliari, Italy, and I knew immediately that when I did have to leave this city it would be a painful parting. I woke up every morning loving something new about it, from the birds flying outside our 5th story window, to the people who invited us - as random strangers - to have dinner with them, to the fruit that would fall on my head as we jogged under date trees in the city. When I got word that I would have to leave I felt physical pain that I hadn't experienced so acutely before, nor have I since. I knew that my heart would always ache for the substantial piece severed and left behind in Cagliari.

Other homes have been added since then, and I keep wondering how my heart can still function, being spread as thinly as it is. Sometimes I even feel disloyal knowing that even as I am leaving one home, I will find another. And in certain moments my heart aches for something that will last, something that won't change and that I will never have to leave behind.

This feeling of being "homesick for heaven," as I learned to call it, reminds me that the biggest piece of my heart was left behind a long time ago, when I left my Heavenly home to make a new one on earth. And as much as I love all of my homes here and now, I am excited to return to that one some day, hopefully to stay. :)

Tucson: First (Month's) Impressions

Tucson really is a colorful place. And I am not just talking about the 4 hues of rock that people can choose from in "landscaping" their yards, or the colorful language of my next door neighbor. It is a quirky place, and the longer I am here the more I discover those things that can either endear (or estrange) this city to its occupants.

First of all there are the roads. I can't remember if I have mentioned them before, but I have seriously wondered if someone goes out with a shovel at night and takes out chunks of asphalt, just for the heck of it. There are huge pieces of road missing! As much as I miss my motorcycle, I would be a nervous wreck trying to navigate around the holes, and even in a car I have to be constantly watching the road. (I know this is a good idea anyway, but it does make it harder to spot places you are looking for when you are playing at a real live Mario Kart.)

I do like that Tucson roads follow the grid system. I was recently informed that all of the major roads are at stoplights 1 mile apart, which makes running calculations easier. The only downside to that is that the crosswalks are few and far between, so most people don't bother with them. When I first arrived here it seemed like jaywalking was the preferred form of exercise for most Tucsonans, and I am still not convinced otherwise.

Something about Tucson that I absolutely love is the wildlife, specifically the lizards. Those of you who know me well know that I have an affinity for reptiles, and the fact that they scamper across my sidewalk as I head out to school every morning totally makes my day. I even caught 2 baby horny toad lizards the other day! They were so cute, and it is fascinating to hold such an obvious relative of dinosaurs in your hand without fearing for your life. :)

Have I told you about the "washes" of Tucson yet? This is what gets me most of all. Every mile or so Tucson has what is called a "wash" - a dry bed of dirt, sand, or cement that looks like it could be the sad remains of what once contained flowing water - and they give them names like "Rose Wash" or "Pantano Wash", like it is some kind of tourist attraction. They are bone dry until...monsoon season! Then they catch all the runoff and turn into a temporary creek or river, lasting anywhere from 2-48 hours before the earth can finally absorb all the moisture. They are purely decorative for the other 11 months of the year, but during monsoon season the Tucson "washes" serve a useful purpose.

These are just a few of the things that have made an impression on me since my transfer here. There are others, like the Sonoran cacti (the classic, movie-style cactus that actually only grows in the Sonoran dessert), the air force base full of retired war planes (which I get to drive past in my commute), and the exceptionally good Mexican food I have had since moving here. I am not sure how long I will be in the Southwest, but it has definitely made a mark. And that is not counting the sun-induced extra freckles on my nose.

P.S. I do wear sunscreen most of the time...

Lesson #13,698,013

Sometimes I have to remember that life is for learning things. With my current occupation you would think this would be a hard truth to forget, but I do. Or I want to pick and choose the kind of education that comes to me, without considering what the Teacher wants me to learn. I am still not a very good student, but these last few weeks have taught me to be more humble and trusting.

After moving to Tucson (and probably as an indirect result of it, along with other strenuous activities) I developed a back/shoulder problem that started off as a mild irritation in week one and turned into a nearly unbearable pain by week three. Teaching required constant doses of ibuprofen (which I abhor, having always hoped to keep my kidneys and liver in a fit state to donate) and my hope of successfully finishing out this school year turned into a plea to be able to get through a day. Every day after getting home all I could do was lay on my back until the exhaustion overcame the pain and I slept for a few hours at a time. I don't know if I have ever been more discouraged in my life. I didn't feel like I could be a good teacher when I was so constantly distracted by pain, and I couldn't find any stress relief in sports or exercise, which are a HUGE part of my life.

Finally on Sunday I made a trip to urgent care and the doctor there shed some light on the problem. Apparently it is a herniated disc that is pinching the C8 nerve in my lower neck and causing pain through my back and left arm. It is made worse by things like running, volleyball, and pretty much every other sport that I have played. Moving large and bulky items (for my apartment and my classroom) on top of that finally pushed it over the edge, and the doctor said that from here on out I will likely have "episodes" where it will flare up (usually 6 weeks to 2 months) interspersed with pain-free times, depending on my activities. He prescribed some stronger medication for pain, and told me to take ibuprofen constantly (???) to keep the swelling down.

I'll be honest, I didn't handle the news very valiantly. "So my options," I thought, "are A) to live a sedentary life and eventually die from boredom B) ignore the advice, keep playing sports and die even earlier from kidney failure or C) see how long I can go without meds before the pain makes everything impossible."

(Note: Trust me, I know that I was being overly dramatic and a whiner. There are SO many people in this world who deal with a lot more pain on a regular basis, and they still go about with their busy and productive lives. In fact, they are usually the most productive people I know. I have been blessed to have always had pretty good health and few injuries, so I am still learning how to work with pain, however slight it may be.)

There have been a lot of times in the last few days when I have asked Heavenly Father "Why?" Why did He want me to move to Tucson - I really had felt good about it - when it would indirectly lead to this problem? Why couldn't the problem have shown up before I moved, when I probably would have looked for a less physical job? Why did I have to be so far away from all my family and loved ones at the time when I wanted them most?

Today when I was teaching an answer came to me in this way. I was trying to teach a phonics lesson, but one of the students kept raising his hand to ask me what we were doing and never seemed to listen when I gave instructions or explanations. He just kept on asking questions! Finally I called his name and said "If you keep on asking questions, you'll never learn the lesson." I'm not sure if he really understood that - he is, after all, only 6 - but it's application for me was obvious and I thought about it for the rest of the day.

"Be still, and know that I am God." (Doctrine and Covenants 101:16) This is the lesson that I am learning, and I really am trying to shut my mouth and open my heart and mind. :) Not an easy task for me, but I will improve.

I am sure that everything will work out, and again, I feel like I always end up on the easy side of trials. So many people deal with so much more, not just in the way of physical hardships, but also emotional and spiritual. I am grateful to share your ranks in some small way, and my prayers go out to those who are suffering anywhere.

P.S. My school really is great, and I have wonderful students. Despite its location, the whole school seems to be very normal and safe. Hooray! :)