WARNING: I am about to rant. Put your thick skin on. This might upset some of you.
I am constantly amazed that Christians will turn off their porch light, lock their doors and make their houses look empty on Halloween. All for the sake of “Taking A Stand” against the “evil” that is this day. Oh yes, I know that bad things happen on Halloween. People dress up like dead things or killers or spirits. That’s not good. I get it. The scary movie trailers give me the creeps too, and I want to rip those Scream masks off anyone I see wearing one. But, let’s get past what the world makes of this day and see it for what it is.
In other words, get over yourselves. No one needs the stand you are taking. People know Halloween has to do with dead things and killers and evil stuff. Your dark house and barren porch do not make anyone “see the light” about this day. It is just another house people skip and another conversation you miss out on. Nice stand.
Instead, let’s see what this day really is. Past the masks and candy and fake blood, this is the only day of the year that flocks of your neighbors walk up to your door, ring your bell and ask you for something. They smile and talk to you and tell you what all of their children are dressed up like. They open their doors to you (should you be knocking on them) and offer you something sweet, along with a smile and a some nice words, usually. They prepare their doorsteps for your arrival. They get their treats ready for you. They welcome your intrusion. They want you to come. People don’t freak out when you speak to their children on Halloween. They encourage their kids to speak, teach them to be polite and show them what it means to interact with neighbors.
Yeah, that sounds evil to me. Why are we so afraid of it? Why do we run and hide? Why don’t we throw open our doors and engage people in conversation. Ask them how they are doing. Show interest in their lives. Even if it is a dreadful holiday that brought them to our door, the fact still remains that THEY ARE AT OUR DOOR!!!!!! Take advantage of it. LOVE THEM!!
Last night we opened our garage (much like we did when we lived in Olympia) to welcome the trick or treaters and their parents. We served coffee, cookies and cider. Our kids handed out candy and literally ran up and down the driveway waiting for the next trick or treaters. They watched us talk with neighbors and strangers. They witnessed us offer what we have to people we don’t know. They spoke with people about their costumes. And people were taken aback. Surprised that we would think of parents on a night that is for kids. Honestly, we didn’t get many trick or treaters, but we tried to love the ones that came. Even if it was only 20 or so. We also reverse trick or treated. We brought pumpkin bread loaves that Ellie and I made when we went house to house and we gave them to our neighbors. They seemed shocked and genuinely grateful that we would think to give on a night of taking.
Now, I admit that I don’t love perfectly, or even well. But I think we need to try. And letting what the world has made Halloween into change who we are or how we treat people is ridiculous. Why does this world get to take October 31st as it’s own? Why does it make Christians, who have the Spirit of the Living God dwelling in them, shrink back and cower in their darkened houses? Why can’t we love people as much on Halloween as we do on Christmas?
Seriously.
And on that note, here are some cute pics of my little trick or treaters.
Payton the Dinosaur
Ellie the Magical Rainbow Unicorn
Shiloh the Cutest Lion Ever
Unicorn, Darth Vader, Dinosaur, Princess Leia and Lion
Princess Leia with our Candy Passer Outers
Colin being Colin
This year's pumpkins - Payton's pumpkin is angry and mean, and Ellie's pumpkin is scared of it.
In my never ending quest to find new creative outlets, I have began my own little clothing design projects. It all began as a way to save money by turning the inexpensive plain clothing I found at consigment shops into fancy stuff my kids would want. Then I realized I like coming up with new designs. And I like the process of creating things. And I like stitching a little bit of me into every piece of clothing I make. I decided to make a few onesies for a friend’s baby shower, seeing as they would be a personal, inexpensive and special gift. I got quite a response, and may have been asked by everyone in the room if I sold them on a website. So I decided to cave to peer pressure and sell them.
If you know me you probably know that I strive in any way I can to be conscious of what products I’m using and how it affects the world we live in. And this new endeavor is no different. The felt used in my designs is made of recycled plastic water bottles. The shirts and bodysuits I use are upcycled – bought at local consignment stores and made into new designs. That way they do not end up in landfills and new products do not have to be manufactured.
I’ll be adding more items as I make them. If you have the time, please stop by my storefront over at Etsy. Here are a few of my products:
Reduce Reuse Recycle
Blue Birdie
Love Oregon
Poppies
Harrah, WA
There is a town about 30 minutes outside of Yakima, Washington. It is nestled between patchwork squares of green and brown and yellow. It is a typical small town in many ways. There is a corner market, a cafe and a park. There are kids riding buses and trains passing by loaded down with grain. If you look from the outside, Harrah is pretty average.
But there is so much more that goes unseen. Loneliness. Depression. Hunger. Poverty. Alchoholism. Harrah is a town that is hurting and in need. It is part of the Yakama Nation Reservation and many residents are Native American. It is also populated by farmers, ranchers and the many day laborers that keep the farms and ranches running. As with so many tiny little towns today, they are struggling to make ends meet, keep businesses afloat and preserve their way of life.
The tribe respects and reveres their elders, but cannot provide for them. They find themselves without food, firewood and income. Many youth are without hope of furthering their education or breaking the cycle of alchoholism that is so prevalent. But, worst of all, they find that life is a hopeless and painful endeavor.
The middle school and high school students in our church will be traveling to Harrah November 5th to try to bring hope to the hopeless and food to the hungry. They will be chopping firewood for Yakama elders to get them through the winter. They will be providing food and warm clothing for families in need. And they will be doing various work projects around the community. Summit View youth have been traveling to Harrah each November for many years, and have built relationships with churches in the community as well as members of the Yakama Nation.
As they gear up for this trip, they are asking for help. Kids and families in the Harrah community are in desperate need of clothing and food. This is where YOU can help! There are a few things you can do to help this community right from your very home, school and church. You don’t even have to live in Vancouver for some of them!!
1. Call your local schools and ask if they would be willing to donate the clothing in their lost and found bins. Most schools donate lost and found items a few times a year. Pick up the clothing items and bring them to Summit View Church before November 5th. There will be collection bins in the lobby on Sunday mornings, or you can drop them at the office during the week.
2. Search your closets and weed out any clothing items you or your kids don’t need (including winter coats). Bring them to Summit View and leave in the office or Sunday morning donation bins.
3. On your next trip to the grocery store, buy some extra non-perishable items (crackers, noodles, cereal, canned food, granola bars, etc…). Bring them to Summit View and leave in the office or Sunday morning donation bins.
4. IF YOU DON’T LIVE IN VANCOUVER, go to Safeway.com or Amazon.com and order some non-perishable foods. Specify the food to be delivered to Summit View Church office, Monday – Friday between 9AM and 5PM (before November 5th). This is a simple an easy way to help even if you live thousands of miles away.
Summit View Church is located at 7701 NE 182nd Avenue, Vancouver, WA 98682. If you have questions you can call the church office at (360) 260-8300 and ask to speak with Jon (the high school pastor) about the upcoming trip to Harrah. You can also comment here with your questions and I’ll do my best to find answers.
Please consider helping our teens bring hope to this community.
I have officially entered my 30’s. That’s right…I’m ancient. Ok, not ancient, per say, but older than I’ve ever been. I’m a grown up. Like my mom. Is that possible??
Thanks to my husband and some other very stellar people, I had a wonderful induction into the 30’s.
After my last post you probably thought I would never leave my house again. Or at least not with children. But on your birthday, you do what you gotta do, you know? So after I woke up as a bright-eyed 31 year old, I packed up the kiddos and headed out the door. Well, first I got one of the best birthday presents ever. My baby girl crept out of her room when her alarm went off, found me at the computer and smothered me with a hug. Then she said, “Happy Birthday Mommy!! You can do anything you want today. You can even have pumpkin pie for breakfast.” Thanks Ellie.
My wonderful friend Eryn (thank you Eryn!!) volunteered to watch my younger two ALL DAY for me (for those of you who don’t know, to people on a school schedule “all day” means until school is out). I dropped off Payton at school and ran the other two over to Eryn’s house. I was so excited to have a day to myself, and had no idea what to do with it. I wanted to kiss her feet as I left, but I was afraid she’d think that was weird. Well, I am weird, but at that moment I was just grateful.
Suddenly I could breathe deeper, drive slower and think clearer. I was kid-free. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids. But I love my time without them as well. It does not happen often.
So what did I do, you ask? I headed to the gym. In the middle of the morning. And I didn’t even have to check anyone into the kids club. I spent a little quality time with the elliptical machine, lifted some weights until I was tired of counting to 15 in sets of three, then headed home.
When I got home it was quiet. Weird. No shouting or whining or crashes. So I did what any other mom with a free day would do when she gets home from the gym. I ate a piece of pumpkin pie. In the middle of the morning. And I didn’t even have to share a bite with anyone. After all, Ellie said I could. The day was getting better by the minute.
So I spent a few hours of cleaning (that’s right, cleaning), getting things done that are impossible to do with children around (like laundry and Facebook), listening to music super duper loud and watching Friends. What a great day. Yes, cleaning is great for me. Especially after a week of having the hubby home. Everything was out of place and dusty and grimy and sticky and covered in petrified Cheerios. I do not work well in that environment. So for my birthday present to myself, I cleaned the house. While I was doing this I got periodically interrupted by some of my very favorite high school students in the whole world, who were delivering roses every hour or so from my husband. Thanks guys. And I’m sad that I missed some of you when I was out.
Then, after a little Old Navy shopping, I made the rounds to pick up my kids. By the way, did I say yet that I love Eryn?? When I got home my husband was already there, with more roses for me. What a sweetie. The kids played for a bit while I figured out where I wanted to go for dinner. Yup, we tried it again. But this time with a little more planning. We picked Chevy’s because my kids love mexican food and could gorge themselves on chips and salsa, thus making it hard to complain. We also decided that Shiloh is big enough for the high chair, and brought toys and treats for him to enjoy. The experience was made even better when a man came by our table making balloon animals. Only he was AMAZING!! He made Payton a T-rex and Ellie a Stegosaurus. He entertained the kids while we ordered and waited for our food. Every restaurant needs a balloon guy. Then, after Payton told him it was my birthday, he made me a balloon crown, complete with red jewels.
After dinner came, by far, the best part of my 31st birthday. Elementary School Skate Night. Payton was begging to go, and to be honest, I wanted to go too. I love skating. Or, I did when I was a kid. I had my birthday party at Skate World every year in elementary school. So it was perfect to spend my birthday at a skating rink. If only they had a private room for us with a cake and presents wrapped in the comics I would have felt like I was 9 again!
I thought it would probably be hard for Payton and Ellie to skate. After all, they had never done it before and they still are pretty young. And it was hard. But they loved it. Payton struggled his way around the rink by himself, smiling all the while. And falling every 3 feet. And Ellie held my hand for most of it. She decided her skates were too slippery and the floor was too hard, but she loved it anyway. She decided halfway through that she was done and I led her to Colin who was with Shiloh on the side. Then I skated back out to find Pate. After a lap with him I looked across the rink and saw my little baby girl skating all by herself in the midst of a crowd of big kids. She saw me and waved, wearing the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. Payton and I caught up to her and we finished together. I was so proud of them. No complaining or whining or giving up. They found the joy in the experience, even in the midst of falling and not knowing what they were doing. This is a lesson, I am afraid, that I have not taught them very well. Because I do not do it very well. So, I was welling up when I saw it in them. And even as we put our skates back and left, there were no tears or tantrums or pouts. Just two happy and content kids. Two happy and content parents. And one happy and content and tired baby. What a great day.
Skating all by himself
Skating with my girl
Her skates were too slippery
My joyful boy
And since we don’t have any pictures of Shiloh from my birthday, I’ll show you one of him trying on his Halloween costume.
I am Shiloh, hear me ROAR!
Thanks for all the birthday wishes. If I didn’t answer your call, which I probably didn’t, it was because I was driving or working out or taking a shower or skating. But I appreciate all of them. And this is proof that though there are some pretty crappy days, there are good ones too. So far, 31 has been WAY better than 30.
Lately I’ve been feeling like Lucy from Peanuts…”Stop the world! I want to get off!”
I am done.
Really done.
September and October have brought sickness, injury and trauma to our family. We’ve struggled to take care of each other only to find that we ourselves need taking care of. Just as one thing ends (or sometimes even before), another begins. Things are piling on and I have run out of hands to hold them with. Not worries or stresses or big picture things. Actual daily tasks. Taking care of people, the house, every day life, etc… We’ve all been through a lot and now, four days before my birthday, I find myself in charge of EVERYTHING in my house from the moment I wake up until the moment I fall asleep (and many times after I fall asleep as well…”Mommy, I had a scary dream!”). I have no choice because my husband and my kids need me. In times of chaos and crisis you do what you gotta do, you know? Especially we who call ourselves “Mommy”. We shift into gear and get down to business, doing what’s necessary to keep our families afloat. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard. That doesn’t mean you don’t get weary. That doesn’t mean you don’t want to run out the door screaming sometimes.
That’s how I felt tonight. I was tired. I didn’t want to make dinner. So I thought, “Let’s go out to a restaurant. One where I don’t have to carry the food to the table or get anyone’s plate ready or make sure we all have straws. That will be so nice.”
I was wrong.
It was NOT nice.
It was chaos, once again.
Just in a different place.
The kiddos were squirmy. The baby was screaming. Ellie didn’t want salad. Payton wanted help with his place mat activity. People were staring. Our waitress asked if we needed any help. No, I said. I’ve got it handled. I stood, holding the baby and swaying while I ate the first half of my pasta. Then I passed him off to his Daddy, who had already finished his meal. And I got to eat the second half of my pasta while listening to my little girl whine and whine and whine for ice cream. No, I said. You didn’t eat any salad. YOU SAID I COULD HAVE A TREAT!, she screamed. No I did not. And then we left. As fast as I could, I got out of that place, leaving my husband behind to pay for the food I barely got to eat and certainly didn’t get to enjoy.
As I walked in the front door to my house I looked around to see the chaos I was trying to escape by eating out. Toys all over the floor. Books, papers, water cups and pillows littering my sick man’s resting spot. Folded laundry that never got put away. Dirty bottles on the counter. Toothpaste on the kids’ bathroom rug.
I wanted to cry. But I couldn’t. I had kids to put to bed.
I wrangled the three of them into jammies and into bed. Mommy has no patience tonight, I said. Clean up this mess, I said. You’ve brushed those teeth for long enough, I said. Then I said goodnight. I think they knew better than to mess with me.
And as I sit at my computer after the day…no, week…no, month of chaos and catastrophe, I want this world to stop so I can get off. I want to pause the crazy and get off this train.
Then I hear it. “Mmmoooommmmmmyyyyyy!” I pause my pity party and sneak into their room. It’s coming from the top bunk. His water bottle is missing and he’s thirsty. He could have sworn it was right there! And now it’s gone. Did it disappear? No, I say, it’s on the coffee table. I go fetch said water bottle, fill it with fresh water and deliver it to sleepy boy. He smiles, says thank you and maintains eye contact (unusual for a 6 year old). He keeps smiling. Everything my heart needs is in that smile. I climb the tiny ladder, squeeze him with all my strength, kiss his sweet forehead and tell him I love him. I know, he says. And he curls up to go to sleep.
When it comes down to it, they need me. They really do. Most of the time that’s just the normalcy of our day. Sometimes it’s what drives me absolutely out of my mind crazy. Sometimes it’s what fills me up.
There has been a lot going on around here lately. The start of school, getting settled in our new home, and a round of the flu to be exact. Everyone in our house but the hubby got it, for a week each. So we are just getting used to having a week where everyone is healthy and no one needs to be given tylenol every time you turn around. And now fall is here, complete with changing leaves, pumpkins and the beginning of another holiday season. We’ve got birthdays coming up and gymnastics and we (and by we I mean me) are furiously making Christmas presents so we don’t add to the landfills, support the consumerism of America and give people stuff, stuff and more stuff. Classroom volunteering starts in October, as does the countdown to my sister’s due date. I think I need to figure out composting while the leaves are falling, as I hear they have a great deal to do with good dirt. AND we have loads of projects to do around our new house.
So you just read that list, are you tired yet?
Needless to say, I am having trouble wrapping my head around life and concentrating on things that are important. Our church is doing ann alignment series right now (by the way, I despise that term…but I may rant about that later). We are all studying the same thing in bible studies, home groups, Sunday morning, high school ministry, etc… Let’s just say, I’m finding it hard to be aligned. I am in a place of personal unsettledness right now, and that usually brings out my cynicism and questioning. I feel as though I should be doing more or have more of a purpose, but everything around me seems so “Ecclesiastes”. Meaningless. Pointless. I know what my heart is drawn towards, what it beats for, what it breaks for…but life as I see it around me has nothing to do with that. And I find myself asking, “Am I being let towards a new thing? Do you have something more for me?” But, alas, no answer yet. Just another day of unsettled soul angst living here in my American luxury, drinking my Starbucks and driving my kid to free public school in my 7 passenger vehicle with warm clothes, a full stomach and a head swimming in questions.
And as life continues to move and time continues to march on here I hear the sounds of a baby who needs his mamma and notice that I need to jump into my 7 passenger vehicle once again to drive down the paved streets and pick up my son from school.
More to come on this unsettledness…
I often make lists of books I want to read. Titles that I hear mentioned, the latest “great read” circulating…you can even find my summer reading list under my Bookshelf link on this blog. I love reading. I love books. I love learning about other people, places and ideas. But, as I mentioned here, I am a book quitter. I start reading books that other people suggest (people I highly respect and whose opinions I value), I get about two chapters in, then I “pause”. I have hundreds of books on pause. My bookshelf is full of them. I want to give them away so they will stop shaming me from their dusty perches, but my husband does not believe in getting rid of books.
And yet there are a few books that have sneaked through the cracks of my book pausing habit. Books that, instead of telling me how to live life, show me life. Books that speak of adventure or courage or loyalty. Books that paint the true colors life across the canvas of my mind in such a way that I am captured and inspired. There is something about a story well-told that beckons us into a world beyond our own and invites us to stay a while. Sometimes fiction and fantasy can describe the longings and condition of our hearts more clearly than any words we could think up on our own. To experience the valiance we wish we had, to fight the evils that plague our existence, to have a mission that is beyond ourselves…these things draw us in to great stories. They invite us to Narnia and Gondor and into our own imaginations.
On The Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness and North! Or Be Eaten, the first two books in the Wingfeather Saga, are stories such as these. They are doors into a world that tells the story of our lives. On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness, as I blogged about here, is the first in the series. It introduces us to the Igiby family and their evil oppressors, the mighty Fangs of Dang. As the curtain opens on North! Or Be Eaten, the Igibys find themselves running for their lives to protect the precious Jewel of Anniera. They must fight their way across mighty Fingap Falls, over the Stony Mountains and into the Ice Prairies if they are ever to be safe from their pursuers (because, as everyone knows, Fangs move much slower in the cold). But along the way they also discover that the past we carry with us is a blessing and a curse, that we are often more noble, brave and selfish than we think we are, and that the weight of the responsibility we carry can sometimes be overwhelming.
As I let myself be immersed in this fantastic adventure I found that the story being told was mine. It told the story of how my heart yearns for the life I was truly meant to live – with an identity born into me that I don’t quite understand. As Janner sought out who he really was and had doubts about whether or not he could live up to his calling, I felt as though I was walking in his boots. But as I read I also saw bits of my own children in these incredible characters. My precious Ellie is as courageous and insightful and gentle as Leeli. Payton is wise and cautious, with a good grip on his responsibility to watch over his younger siblings, much like Janner. And Shiloh, though he is still shy of a year, is just as reckless as Tink. As these characters (the book’s – not my own) develop and grow and learn before our eyes, we see the truth that resides in our own souls. And this truth, though both marvelous and shameful, points us to the Maker who created us with a purpose and identity far greater than we could ever imagine. We see how His plan ebbs and flows through our lives and how we do our best – without even trying – to sabotage it. We also see how he rescues and forgives and continues to make us more and more into who we are meant to me.
I love when a fictional story can bring out the truths of real life. There is never a hopeless situation. There is always a way out. Just like Ships and Sharks.
Story Summary:
Janner, Tink, and Leeli Igiby thought they were normal children with normal lives and a normal past. But now they know they’re really the Lost Jewels of Anniera, heirs to a legendary kingdom across the sea, and suddenly everyone wants to kill them.
Their escape brings readers to the very brink of Fingap Falls, over the Stony Mountains, and across the Ice Prairies, while villains galore try to stop the Igibys permanently. Fearsome toothy cows and horned hounds return, along with new dangers: a mad man running a fork factory, a den of rockroaches, and majestic talking sea dragons.
Andrew Peterson’s lovable characters create what FantasyBookCritic.com says made Book One “one of the best fantasy novels in a very long time,” and Book Two contains even more thrills, exploring “themes universal in nature, ranging from the classic good versus evil, to the importance of family, and burdens of responsibility.”
About The Author:
Andrew Peterson is the author of On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness, Book One in the Wingfeather Saga, and The Ballad of Matthew’s Begats. He’s also the critically-acclaimed singer-songwriter and recording artist of ten albums, including Resurrection Letters II. He and his wife, Jamie, live with their two sons and one daughter in a little house they call The Warren near Nashville , Tennessee . Visit his websites: www.andrew-peterson.com and www.rabbitroom.com
Do you ever feel as though when you hear a certain song it is peeking into a window into the depths of your soul? Thankfully, when I am at my worst, God seems to draw me back with music. And today I was at my worst.
I have found that, among my many weaknesses, I often struggle with stubbornness, independence and pride. I don’t want to give in to God’s will. I want to do whatever I feel is good for ME. I want to claim all supreme knowledge and authority in everything. I don’t really choose any of these things consciously, but I do choose them. With my actions, my words and the attitude of my heart. I chose ALL of these things today. I was stubborn, selfish, arrogant, independent and very prideful. And, right on cue, tonight as I was putting my groceries away I was broken by the words to this song.
Have Your Way – by Andrew Peterson
Father hear me now when I am humbled, I fear that I will soon forget.
Now I have no strength to stand and stumble, I have no wish to leave you yet.
Oh Holy Father hear me now, when flesh is strong and spirit weak.
Please break my back if I won’t bow, won’t you have your way with me.
Father hear me now when I am humbled, when I am bent with holy shame.
All the lies that I believed have crumbled, the blood of Christ my only claim.
I cannot trust my own desires, my heart is prone to disobey.
So listen Lord while there is time, chain me fast if I won’t stay.
Take my life and have your way.
Please hear me Lord this blessed hour, when sin has loosed it’s hold on me.
Thy mercy is a mighty tower, so why should I not trust in thee. Father have your way with me.
I don’t know how many of you out there have ever visited the website of the Pioneer Woman, but you should. Especially if you are self taught photographers. She has such an abundance of information that I may need weeks and weeks of uninterrupted internet time to read all that I want to. She is self taught and fantastic. She is also the wife of a rancher (she chronicles life on a working ranch), an amazing cook (she has recipes, with step by step pictorial instructions), a homeschooler and a photographer. She also has created her very own set of Photoshop Actions that you can download for FREE!! That’s right, free. And they are actually good! Tip: If you are a Mac user and want to download them from her site, hold down the option key while you click her download link.
I decided to test her actions out on a photo of my own. Here is Payton climbing a tree during a photo shoot:
Straight Out Of The Camera
Here are a few of the PW Actions I tried:
Heartland
Fresh and Colorful + Bring On The Eyes
Old West + Bring On The Eyes
Seventies + Bring On The Eyes
Lovely and Ethereal + Bring On The Eyes
B&W Beauty + Bring On The Eyes + Quick Edge Burn
Colorize + Bring On The Eyes
Vintage + Boost
Which one is your favorite?
There are approximately a kajillion combinations I could try with each of my images.
If you don’t see me for weeks, it’s because I’m still sitting here editing pictures.
I have been sitting here for about a half hour now pondering what to write. Do I write what I’m feeling? Do I write what happened? Do I try to give it a positive spin and “find the silver lining”? Do I pretend today was like any other day? But, being me, I cannot pretend. Today was terrible. Let me begin at the beginning (this may be a little long).
Today was the first day of school. Buses roaming the streets. Kids in clothes that still smell like the department store. New lunchboxes, backpacks, pencils, sneakers and haircuts. Anxiety mixed with excitement. Anticipation peppered with fear. And my six year old was simply bursting with all of those emotions.
He did, however, wake up with a fever. 100.6. He said his throat hurt. I gave him Tylenol (which my kids think cures everything!) and gave him time to wake up and test his legs. He came bounding out of his room – dressed and ready with teeth brushed and chores done. I had him pack his lunchbox and backpack, jus tin case he felt like going to school. He did so, slung his pack on his back and said he was ready to go. I said, “Take your time! School doesn’t start for an hour. Do you feel well enough to eat?” Refusing to remove his backpack, he scarffed down 4 blueberry pancakes and a banana. Then he battled his sister for control of the Republic (he was Obi-Wan, she was Ventress). It looked like he was feeling better. He had his energy back and randomly shouted, “I am SO EXCITED to be a first grader!!!”
So we headed out. But not, of course, before taking some First Day of School pictures on our front porch. What would this day be without them???
My First Grader
As we drove to school I asked him what he was most excited for, how he was going to introduce himself to new classmates and how far he wanted me to walk him in. We all got out (the whole crew, minus Colin who was at work) and walked him to the outside of his class. He asked me to come in with him, so I did. I helped him hang up his things and took him to his table. He said goodbye with a huge smile on his face and I walked out with Ellie and Shiloh.
As we got in the car to leave we stoped to pray for him, that he would be confident, comfortable and make new friends. My heart hurt a little as I left him there. My baby…not a baby any more. And as I went about my day my heart felt like a piece of it was missing. So I prayed for him. All day.
Afternoon rolled around and we hopped back in the van to pick him up. I saw his teacher walking the class to the buses, so we walked in that direction. But no Payton. When we found him, sitting outside his classroom alone, he looked like a different child. He was obviously sad. Obviously tired. And obviously disappointed. I asked him how his day was (as I had so many times last year) and he said he wanted to go home. On the way to the car he said he didn’t feel good. I felt his forehead and, indeed, he was boiling. No upset tummy. No sore throat. No runny nose. Just roasting and tired. I said I’d take care of him and we’d go home and rest.
When he got in the car and we drove away he said the few sentences that tore my heart to pieces. “Mommy, do I have to go back there? I don’t want to go to school there. I want you to homeschool me. I want to be at home with you.” As these words came out of his mouth I could tell he was trying, with every ounce of willpower that he has, not to cry. I pressed him to tell me more about his day and why he felt that way. He told me that he had to sit all day. He had to sit at his seat, at circle time, at lunch…all day. “For eight hours!”, he said. He wanted to drink his water at lunch but he couldn’t get the bottle open and “none of the grown ups listened” when he asked for help. He couldn’t remember any of his classmates names (and this is VERY unlike him). He felt sick at recess so he couldn’t play. And Payton, my lover of learning, said he was bored. All this I found out over a long period of time because he was speaking so slowly and quietly, so as to not burst into tears, that I could barely understand him. He wasn’t complaining or whining (a voice I know all to well, and I detected none of it here). He was just saying what happened. He told me over and over again that he didn’t like all the sitting and that he was bored. And he asked me over and over again if he could stay home tomorrow with me and Ellie.
I wanted to weep with him. I wanted to defend him. I wanted to sweep him up in my arms and hold him until the end of time. My heart aches for him. My son had never, ever, ever not enjoyed school. He has never had such a horrible day. And he has never seemed so defeated. His demeanor, his voice, his countenance…they we all different than I have ever known. His spirit seemed broken. Those of you that know him, you would have been surprised to see the meek little boy who came home with me today.
Now, yes, we have a plan. Yes, we know what we need to do. We are educators and communicators and know what the next step is. But still my heart feels bruised and battered. I’m sure this won’t be the worst that ever happens to my child. I’m sure I’ll have to deal with tougher stuff. But right now my little boy’s heart seems like the most important thing in the world, and it’s hurting. Which means mine is hurting.
So, that’s my day. No pretending it was roses and butterflies. It was a great big steaming pile of horse apples.
I hope second grade starts better. Or at least the second day of first grade.
I just love his silly faces!
