Better to be Hopeful than Thankful

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens; Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens; Brown paper packages tied up with strings; These are a few of my favorite things

When the dog bites, When the bee stings, When I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things And then I don't feel so bad..

This doesn't work for me.  Oh, I can go through the motions, count my blessings, but it doesn't make me feel any better.

Looking back to the past doesn't always help me in the present.  I am often too worried about the future to pay much thought to all those lovely memories...

This time last year I was looking for a new job, a new life.  Someone suggested that I might enjoy a change.  I realized then that I hadn't enjoyed anything in a very long time. Much of what I do is out of duty, and the rest is to keep up appearances. I was simply surviving, and worried that I might not make it through the upcoming holidays.  Hosting has often been a source of stress for me in the past.

This year I faced Thanksgiving as a dress rehearsal for Christmas. It was certainly cold enough, with pretty snow covering the ground.  Being brought up British, I have more traditions for Christmas when we feasted on turkey and all the trimmings.  The tree was already up, twinkling with lights and waiting for ornaments. Two out of my three sons would be coming home, and it felt like the holidays. I found myself looking forward to seeing family again and cooking for them.  I cleaned the house and defrosted the turkey.  I was excited... I was enjoying this!  Even a small fire set off by a potholder in the oven didn't dampen my spirits.  I tried to remember when was the last time I had enjoyed Christmas... probably when the kids were young.  And even then cooking a turkey in the heat was not much fun.

So with hope for a brighter future, I make a list of what I am excited about:

• snow
• Christmas carols
• gingerbread and mince pies
• all three boys home
• decorating 
• holiday activities with school children
• traveling for New Year
• spending time with my brothers
• watching Seuss' "The Grinch"
• dark nights by the blazing hearth
• egg nog
• hot water bottle in bed
• a full heart

Here's to understanding the real meaning of HOPE and THANKSGIVING throughout the year.  

May you look forward to a Happy Christmas and Joyful New Year!

Where a Mind Wanders While Shoveling Snow

It snowed 3 inches last night. Since it is the weekend I put off going out to shovel the driveway until late in the day.  It is usually a mind-numbing task, as well as body-numbing.  While some might listen to music while they work, I look forward to the quiet.  Today I was conscious to where my thoughts went.
How cold is it outside? Will I freeze, or start to sweat? Where is the snow shovel? Which shovel do I use.... what kind of snow is this?
I see the neighbors yard has been plowed, and another neighbor is using a snow blower.  They joke that they are too old to shovel.  The truth is: we are too cheap to pay for the job. I am expecting Jon to come out at any moment and take over.  The way I shovel bothers him, I do it all wrong.  I suppose he has years of experience, where as I am a newbie at this.

It does feel as if I have only just put the snow shovels away after last winter.  I fondly remember having my boys help then.  They were visiting for the holidays and gladly took on the task.  Now I start to look forward to seeing them again at Thanksgiving.  I will have to get the car out and go into town to buy a turkey.  What else do I need to get?  I suppose I will need to think about decorating for Christmas.
My mind wanders to my teaching and I smile at the memory of the children, all bundled up so as to be nearly unrecognizable, and excited about the weekend and snow coming.  I love to see their glowing faces.

I start to compare the snow I'm pushing around to the snow in Bulgaria.  There it was wetter, more decorative. I would have to find another excuse to go out and get my fill of snow-watching, I had no shoveling to do in the city.
My son grew tired of the snow in the Midwest and now lives in California. I wonder if he is missing the snow, or us, at all.
I find a hose pipe hidden under the snow while clearing the front walk.  Oh, wasn't it only a few days ago I was watering my begonias? I'm not really ready for winter. There are still apples to be picked and chairs to put away.  And Jon is always pointing out how I'm not very good at coiling up garden hoses. I resist the urge to hide the hose under the snow, and push it behind some shrubbery. What should I do with the pumpkins decorating my front steps?
As I finish it begins to snow.  I pause to take it in: the whiteness, the quiet, the fresh look, the calm.  I marvel at natures way of decorating a cold dead world.  I go inside without caring how good a job I've done; Jon will want to redo it all anyway.

A Legal Alien in Bomgaars

Tis the season to harvest, vote and pay taxes. As a resident alien in Minnesota I own farm land and pay taxes, but cannot vote. The implication is that I do not know enough about my new home to vote intelligently on Midwest issues. On this I have to agree. It only takes one trip into town to show how little I know. 
As a first timer paying property tax, I had to go into the county Courthouse. It would have been a quick trip had not Jon come along.  This meant a stop at the local coffee/wine bar.  Like any non-chain shop, it has had to find a variety of ways to make money under one roof. So by day you can take a painting class, while at night you can sample wine with a local live band.  The only mistake they are making is having a huge front glass door that lets in the arctic blast with every customer.  But who am I to tell them how to run their business.

Then we ran in the snow across the main road to visit an "Antiques and Gift' shop.  I knew the place to be a hoarders paradise and wanted to share the unique experience with Jon. The owner met us at the door amid piles of collectibles and shelves of knickknacks.  She couldn't allow us in because the fire department had shut her down. Apparently her place was a fire hazard and the roof leaked. (I'm not at all surprised!)  We commiserated with her for a while and got the whole story before ducking out to see what else we could find downtown. Jon spent some time getting to know the owner of the local bicycle shop, while I stopped in for hot cider and cookies at the toy store.  The place was packed with young children playing with legos, dress-up and reading books by the fire. I found it hard to leave, but the farm had called, and would we mind picking up fence posts and rat poison?

This meant a stop at Bomgaars, a Farm Supply store.  And this is never a quick stop.  It is a huge warehouse sort of place full of whatever someone living in Minnesota or Iowa might need. While Jon went off in search of fence posts, I had a quick look around the department nearest the front.  I tested the camo inspired recliners in bright hunter orange covers. They sat across from the gun safes, huge and solid, big enough to store an arsenal.  Then came the fish houses with diesel heaters and ice augers (big drills).  Then there were two whole aisles of snow shovels and a few sleds. The toys included full size tractors and a rocking bull.  I spent some time figuring out that the trailers were in fact log-splitters, and the 'SALT DOG's were spreaders.  I found Jon behind the smokers and windmill yard art. 
You may think that my shopping at Bomgaars was a one-off event. But the truth is that I often stop by when I am in town to buy paint, plants and other useful tools.  They offer discounts to farmers, even if their service leaves much to be desired. We ended this visit with Jon having to fix their till to get a receipt printed, and two arguments about promised prices and deals.
Just as this shopping trip differs greatly from one to the mall, so does this blog differ from earlier years when I speak about being thankful for past blessings in a previous life far away.  I haven't found I need to dig back into long lost memories in order to find something to smile about.  I am too busy exploring the in's and out's of the local farming community.

Suffer Little Children

I consider Kindergarten teachers superheroes. They bring their classes to the media center in silence and drop them off for 20 minutes of adorable chaos. The little ones crawl around the floor like cats finding a spot to settle. They poke each other then find it necessary to tattle on the poker.  Everyone of them wants to speak to me at once, telling me about what just happened or about what they wish for. They find it hard to sit still during story time, as every book page needs to be commented on and peered at closely. And just as I believe I have got their attention, I notice one slinking off behind a bookshelf, and another creeping towards the computer lab.   I also have students swear they "forgot" their books at home, when I know they were returned days ago. It is hard to convince a 5 year old that the books they left the library with are now back on the shelves.

Then I bump into the same children walking in a line through a crowded hallway.  They all have their mouths closed and cheeks puffed out as they walk silently.  Instead of greeting me verbally, they waggle a "mini finger wave" in my direction.  Some stop to give me a hug, but don't break ranks or hold up their line. I was definitely impressed!  I started to watch their teachers to see what I could learn from them.  "Bubbles in!, Hand by your sides," were the magic words, somehow helping them to focus on their behavior instead of what others were doing around them.
My responsibilities in the school include a 12th grade advisory which meets for 20 minutes a week with me. The seniors barely greet me, get out their phones and lie on the floor. I leave them be, hoping to avoid a confrontation over rules and how mean all the teachers are. One girl who, due to a troubled upbringing and other factors I can't begin to understand, hasn't matured emotionally much past that of a Kindergartener.  She calls me names and has temper tantrums.  I don't think the "Bubbles in!" concept ever worked on her.  I started to dread my 20 minutes with her each week. 

Other staff considered me lucky to only have to put up with her for 20 minutes!  "Just ignore her'" they said. So I found myself watching the clock, both with my seniors and my Kindergarteners, hoping it would pass quickly.
The Senior advisory was given the task of making a tie blanket for a children's home. When I tried to rally them into the planning, they politely ignored me, hoping I'd let the whole thing go. After all, no one expects seniors to do anything. But I went ahead and ordered the fabric, believing that even so, the blanket would never get made. 
To my surprise my homeroom immediately took charge when they saw the fabric, not letting me in, even on the cutting.  When our short time was up, the group all left except my foul-mouthed friend. She stayed on through her study hall to finish the blanket by herself.  And in the process of cutting and tying, she transformed into a focused productive being, ready and willing to help out in a civilized manner. And the next time we met I asked for some creative assistance with a elementary project. Once again the seniors came through and worked cheerfully.

I changed my attitude towards those 20 minutes: they were too short to waste, and I better make the most of those precious minutes with each student 5 years through 18 years.
I try to find creative tasks for them to do, which they can focus on, participate in rather than merely observing. If they know the story I'm reading, I let them take over it's telling. I encourage them to focus on their own behavior, and no one else's. "What are you interested in?" "What will you choose to create?" And yet they still need to work with others.  A team of four children will build one Lego castle; friends will read the same book together; and at the computer one student will ask his neighbor, "How did you do that?"
As one student was leaving the media center he remarked to his friend, "I wish I could live at school!"  And just like that I was already looking forward to his next visit to the media center and what would come out of it.
Suffer little ones to come unto me... I'm ready!