Life shows her face differently to each of us...

I find myself sitting at my dining room table with my heart too full for words. But you know me, I'll try to squeak some out anyway. I feel like it's necessary to uncork some of this.

On Monday night, a good friend of ours lost his dad. While he was not in the greatest of health, this was unexpected and thankfully, did not drag on for days. Our friend and his family are wrestling with the details that accompany loss and delay grief, and Husband and I will travel to Nebraska on Saturday to attend the funeral. In this particular circle of friends - from my college days in Centennial Singers - this is the fourth person to lose their father. Aren't we too young for that? Isn't that supposed to happen much further down the road?

Last night I found out - through Facebook (oh, the irony!) - that a former neighbor and friend died. His ex-wife told me that she and their son are hanging in and doing well. It was through another friend that I discovered he committed suicide. When Husband and I were first married and lived in our little condo in the mountains, this couple lived above us. Our dogs played together and we had dinners together and socialized like young newlyweds do. It is hard for me now to grasp the fact that to me life feels so wonderfully fulfilling, and to him life felt too dark to continue to face. It's like staring at two sides of the same proverbial coin. His Facebook page is a very sad tribute to a person who was obviously wrestling with feelings far darker than I've ever had to deal with; his last post, posted the day before his death, reads like a final sigh.

I'm sorry to be so heavy with this entry. I had all kinds of pictures to post of the kids, their cousins and their visit with Grandpa, but I think I need to leave the space of a day or so. I will return with the photos - sure signs of how thankful I am for my life and the lives of those I love.

On Shaky Ground

I'm feeling a bit off-kilter today, and I'm not sure why. Connor thrilled and surprised all of us this morning by getting up and dressed with no help and getting off to school without a meltdown. Today would be the first time that's happened since the first day of school. Unfortunately, I blew the whole thing when I dropped him and Kirby off at the front of the school today (where the late people go - and we were late!) instead of the side of the school. So, he ended up squeezing in a meltdown after all, and at the last possible second.

Because I found myself feeling a bit anxious, I decided I would stay for the school mass, which happens every Thursday morning at daily mass. Why is it that my kids groan about going to church every Sunday (they're great once we're there), but on school mass day, they're thrilled to be there with me? I felt truly honored by their hugs and snuggles, and as I listened to the whole school respond "Amen! I believe!" I knew I had chosen the right way to calm my soul and bring peace to my day. There is nothing quite like watching children approach our Lord; and it always brings a smile to my heart.

As I sat in contemplation, I realized that the source of my anxiety was a sub job that I picked up yesterday. In a week, I'll be subbing for 1/2 day at a technology high school in a special ed class - in a kind of rough area. One week ago I would have viewed this as a challenge and a chance to build experience, but today I find that my confidence is completely shaken. I even - for the first time in a LONG time - find myself questioning whether I went into the right field. Can I do this? With what age level will I be the most effective? I take little comfort right now in the words of praise and encouragement I've received from professors, mentor teachers, and interviewers along the way and just keep wondering, "Where will I end up, and will I be able to do it?"

Change of Face

To appease my mom and my mother-in-law, I've changed my profile picture. While I loved the photo that my friend took of me cuddling Connor (only the top of his head is visible), they are afraid you might think I have a big fuzzy beard. So, here I am again, in Hawaii. Ho hum.

Two Years (Just A Piece of Life's Journey)

It recently dawned on me that I started blogging two years ago this month, at the start of my program. This morning, cup of tea in hand, I pulled that first entry and re-read it. Oh how glad I am to be where I am today! I titled this blog "One Mom's Journey" because I felt a sense of embarking on a journey - heading down a new path. But, at that time, it was hard to imagine the twists and turns that my path would take even in those two years.

I know that I was certain that I would be teaching by now. Who could have foreseen that we would be expecting a new baby? Certainly not me! Reading my first post, it easy to see how much I was grieving for a life that I had loved (staying home with our children). My mom recently pointed out to me, that had I known then that our two years of sacrifice and hard work would be rewarded with this upcoming year - a year which I now think of as "the gift year" - I might have felt much better going in. I was scared and happy, excited and sad (frankly, I was all over the place!). Looking back, it's so easy to see that the Lord has carried us gently down His path. Though it has been a time rife with anxiety, and I cried many tears (and suffered a few meltdowns) there has also been much joy and much personal growth - not just for me, but for the boys and Husband too. And, I can see how our marriage has been strengthened by our need to be a highly evolved team.

I always wondered if the blog title would be appropriate once I finished with school. I can see now that it is. Everyone knows that life itself is a journey. I've learned a lot, but I'll never be done. Actually, I like John Michael Montgomery's way of putting it...

"Life's a dance, learn as you go
sometimes you lead, sometimes you follow.
Don't worry about what you don't know.
Life's a dance, learn as you go."

Husband can vouch for how much I like to lead on the dance floor. What I've learned over the past two years is how much of a joy life can be when I stop - and follow.