hope is sensible {CELEBRATE This Week: 220}

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! 

Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. 

Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

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One of my favorite things to do during the Christmas season is plug in the Christmas tree lights before any other lights are on. I use a flashlight to find the outlet and light the tree while sleepy wisps are still clearing from my mind.

The coffee starts to brew and I sit on the dark end of the couch soaking in the tiny white lights. Sometimes my resistant for only one set of lights in the wee hours of the morning crumbles and I light the banister too. The tree and the stockings make my heart warm.

Over the years of building a forever family I've been worn at the holiday season. Love is not easy for children from hard places and over-the-top love within a season of irregular schedules and unpredictable events can make even those of us who love Christmas the most wonder if we should wrap up the white lights.

Christmas joy is a result of met expectations. We must be careful with our expectations or we can become disenchanted. Sometimes we might consider giving up hope.

I did.

We have been a forever family for kids from hard places for more than a decade. This is the first Christmas that hasn't rolled in with turmoil and I wondered if maybe Christmas isn't worth getting all giddy about.

Plugging in a strand of lights is an act of hope. Like most acts of hope, it makes me feel ridiculous.

The world tells us to worry and demand results. 

Never will these responses heal broken people.

When we're in the thick of the hard, battling for what's right in a world that offers grotesque and malicious, it is easy to forget that hope is sensible. 

We've had eleven frightful Christmas seasons. Kids from dark corners work to destroy joy and peace. That's what happens when we let the world inside our homes and hearts. Hurting people hurt people.

I sit on the dark end of the couch with white light twinkling. It's different this year. I like to think it's because my precious kids from very hard places no longer need to confirm forever.

There's less need to sling vicious words or wield wild fists. They've discovered forever. 

Healing is not restoring perfection. Healing is scars. When hearts are broken and broken again and hurt slices souls, humans must discover if love is worth letting in. We test love in all kinds of ways, twisting and pushing on the hearts of those who want to be close to us, those who proclaim to be real.

It's not just children from hard places who test others.

Because if we're honest, we're all from hard places. We're all fighting weary battles. We're an orchestra that creates a cacophony of human emotions. 

It's easy to be scratched by hard hearts. 

The only sensible choice is hope.

For me hope is plugging in one more strand of white lights. For Andy it's watching a game with his buddies. Sam places a train track around the tree, and Jordan plays video games with his best friend. Hannah organizes her closet and Stephanie choses to believe that the world does offer good.

This week she was in the car with Andy and said, "Dad, I've figured out the secret to being happy."

"What's that?" Andy asked.

"You just do the right thing and then no matter what happens, it still feels good."

Hope is sensible. This season I celebrate seeing the fruits of hope.

Shattered Composure {CELEBRATE This Week: 214}

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! 

Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. 

Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

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This is the moment when I came completely undone. Stephanie sang a beautiful solo, and then took her place on the top riser. Quiet tears slid down my face because sometimes evidence of healing shatters my composure. The stark difference between now and a year ago was more than I could handle. For all those who are tattered and worn, press on.

Gnarled Healing {CELEBRATE This Week: 206}

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! 

Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. 

Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

*******

It's been a week of saying hello to the school year and adjusting our schedules. It's been ten years of learning to adjust from summer to school year with our kids. It's typically a rocky transition. Change isn't easy for kids who spend their early years in hard places. 

This year has been the greatest transition ever. It follows the greatest summer we've experienced since adopting kids from foster care. I am so grateful.

We had family pictures taken by Jami Stichter. She's a former student, making these special pictures even more dear to my heart.

I love them. 

I've been scrolling through the pictures instead of writing this blog post when it occurred to me, this is the moment to celebrate. 

I wish I had the words, but the feelings are too big for my heart, let alone for a text box. You know how you read stories about people overcoming the impossible and it feels so good for your soul? Even when you're in the middle of the book and the story is getting tough, it's still okay because you know it's going to be okay in the end. You read the last words, close the book, and breathe a sigh of relief. You smile and sit still for a few moments, because it feels good to know people are resilient. 

The thing that's impossible to capture in the books is how when the story is unfolding no one knows if resilience is going to win in the end. When you're walking alongside someone on the ugly road of healing, you don't know how close you are to the chapter where everything works out okay. You're not even sure if that chapter will ever be written.

And then someone takes your family pictures and you see the thing you've been hoping for is true.

You see that not only do you believe you're a forever family, but they know it's real too. You see they've stopped faking it and they really believe it. 

Loving kids from hard places is not for the faint-hearted. One day, I'll find the words to describe this gnarled journey, and I'm going to write them in a book. You might read it and when you get to the end it's going to feel so good for your soul.

Right now, though, the celebration is mine. These kids are healing and their stories are going to change the world.

Six Weeks {CELEBRATE This Week: 192}

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! 

Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. 

Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

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I have six weeks until a milestone birthday. I'm not one who marks time according to numbers, but when I consider that it is likely I'm nearing (or past) the midway point of life on this earth, it gives me a little pause.

I've been thinking about what I ought to accomplish in the next six weeks to be ready to face the big four-oh. For me it has centered around physical health. I've been rolling around all of the things I should be doing.

My thoughts were stirring things like running again and drinking more water and lifting weights. I walked out of the same building where I started teaching 17 years ago. The sun winked at me and fresh air tickled my nose. I was reminded to live in the moment.

I shook the should-be's until all that was left was be. 

It's not easy for a thinker to be. I'm training myself to stop reflecting and wondering and questioning and planning and whirling.

I'm learning to be.

They've not been easy lessons. 

I'm not a fast learner.

Maybe instead of training for a 5K, I'll bring home learning how to be.

The six week plan --

1. Say YES more.
2. Sit outside.
3. Take time to walk slow.
4. Send handwritten notes.
5. Cook (or bake) because it's fun.
6. Plant flowers.

I think this will be the best way to enter the next decade with grace and grit.

Hello Summer! {CELEBRATE This Week: 142}

 

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! 

Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. 

Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

*****

Hello Summer,

It's so nice to see you again --  we've already jumped in with both feet!

We've been to the skate park and the library. We grabbed lunch at the school and walked through the park. We've planted flowers, went for a run, and swam in the neighbor's pool. We mowed yard, did a little laundry, and watched the world go by from the front porch. We cooked dinner together, lingered at the table, and had a family movie night.

I love you, Summer! I have high expectations.

• Finish writing a book (!)
• Choice Literacy Writing Retreat
• Professional learning at All-Write Summer Institute and the Diane Sweeney conference and the PBL conference
• Teacher Book Club reading, plus that stack of professional books that are calling my name

• Email Pals weekly notes and something new I'm cooking up to help teachers with conferring.
• The GIVEAWAY that is ending soon
• Switching my blog to a new platform (Yikes!)

• Running a 5K with the kids
• Trying new recipes
• Pies are waiting to be made and cookie perfection to be claimed
• Canning spaghetti sauce
• Freezing blueberries
• Keeping the pots of flowers alive

• Holding on to every single moment with the kids
• Adding to their school albums and collecting more memories for our scrapbooks
• Claiming adventure
• Reading books
• Visiting people
• Exploring places

• Family Genius Hour (Sam insists)
• Selecting topics
• Dipping into research
• Dreaming up my own project, too

• A visit from Karianne (our 2011-2012 exchange student) and her mom
• Welcoming Martha, our 2016-2017 exchange student

• Kings Island
• Tennessee
• Church camp
• Boy Scout camp
• Football camp
• Band camp

Summer, I celebrate you, not just for all that you hold, but for the way you hold me. I slow down, linger with my coffee, scribble in my notebook, and watch the world go by. Thank you, Summer, for letting me live this one precious life as fully as possible.

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An InLinkz Link-up

It is Good {CELEBRATE This Week: 124}

 

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

******

I meant to only think it, but I said it aloud. It went a little like this, "I wish I would have figured it out sooner, that way there wouldn't have been a big blow up since it went so long unnoticed." 

Sam said, "It's not your fault, Mom. We each make our own choices and sometimes people make a poor choice. You can't stop other people's choices."

I bit my bottom lip and did a little thinking before I spoke. I want him to grow up responsible for his own choices. I don't ever want him to take responsibility for the choice another person makes.

We learn best from watching others. I wanted to argue with him, explain that I'm the parent and parents are supposed to help their kids make good choices. I wanted to explain to him that it's my responsibility to make sure everyone does the right thing.

It's a good thing I'm learning to control my tongue. I clamped my mouth shut so nothing could get out.

Hannah said, "I should have stopped it. I suspected it was going on. It's my fault."

There are moments when we see everything clearly. 

"No!" I said a little too boldly. "It is not any of your fault. The only person responsible is the person who made the choice."

"That means it's not your fault either, Mom," Sam hammered the point home.

"You're right," I relented and released myself from the guilt I was trying to claim.

I used to think one day I'd arrive at this point in life when I'd get everything right.

I wouldn't forget to put things in the mail.

I'd never hurt another person's feelings.

I'd always respond to email in a timely manner.

I wouldn't be offended.

I'd stop getting worked up about things.

The house would be clean.

The car would have gas.

The leftovers would make it to the fridge.

This wasn't the week when I reached the point of getting it all right.

More often than not it felt like I did it all wrong. I'm reminded that this is good.

It is good to be in the middle of  a mess. Faith deepens. Relationships strengthen.  Love swells. And I am molded into a better version of who I was created to be.

Today, I'm going to celebrate being in the middle of a mess, not knowing how to respond, learning to shake off guilt, and trusting, always trusting in the shield of faith.

An InLinkz Link-up

CELEBRATE This Week XCV (95)

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

*****

One full week of school is under my belt. I'm breathing. Sipping coffee. Writing in my notebook. Collecting celebrations. Shifting my perspective with each celebration I unearth.

 

Click to enlarge.

Before this list, I was thinking about everything I didn't get done and everyone I thought I let down. I was thinking I need to stop wasting so much time. I was thinking about how I waste opportunities because I'm too busy dropping the ball or exhausted from not getting to bed earlier.

Because I took the time to collect a handful of celebrations, I'm able to see more clearly. I see now that there were moments treasured, not wasted. I inspired rather than harmed. I lived fully this week. 

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I posted this on Instagram around mid-week.

 

The caption read: Meet Clunker. I hope he doesn't eat too much! Sam insisted to send the photo to his teacher. So we texted it along with this message: This is Sam. Isn't Clunker cute? It turns out he likes cow legs for chew toys, but Mom won't let those in the house.

 

Yesterday during the school day Clunker got tired and fell over for a nap. When I arrived home, I couldn't pull into the garage because the boys were creating Indy cars from Clunker parts. (Just a little aside, Clunker's body was a coal tender last week.) 

 

Jennifer Laffin pointed me toward Caine's Arcade. Sam and I watched the short film and checkout the website this morning. I'm touched by this story. The way creativity is valued and the hearts of people to empower and encourage creativity within one another moves me.

 

I'm affirmed that my belief in play is crucial. It is not fluff. It is the fuel of powerful movements and life touching projects. Here is the first chart I put into "play" this week.

 

I'm learning unhurried doesn't mean a sparse to-do list. Unhurried doesn't mean I have hours unfolding with nothing to do. Unhurried means in the midst of running kids and encouraging teachers and writing chapters and driving and cooking and walking and drying dishes that I remember to laugh. I remember to enjoy this journey. I'm not going to pass this way again. Unhurried means I remember life is magical and I see this truth.

I hope you, too, take the time to discover your own celebrations and share them below.

  

An InLinkz Link-up

CELEBRATE This Week: LXXXIII (83)

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

*****

I turned my Instagram account public. I've been using it to collect & document celebrations. I love it. Please follow me there: @ruth_ayres to find celebrations throughout the week.

***** 

Oh my goodness -- those comments you left me last week? Thank you!

There is magic in the muddle. This week the muddle is thick. We are days away from summer break. This is hard. Never again will life be just as it is right now. When kids return to school in August, everything is different. Different teacher. Different room. Different classmates. 

This causes anxiety. It especially causes anxiety for a 10 year old boy who has never returned to the same school. Never. 

Before Jay came home to us he started each grade in a new school. When he joined our forever family, he was in second grade and went to school in the district I work.

Third grade and he went to school at the district in our hometown.

Fourth grade and he moved to the intermediate school in our hometown. The afternoon after his first day of school in fourth grade, he greeted me at the door when I came home. Bouncing upanddownandupanddown he announced, “You were right, Mom! I did know all of the kids in my class! They all came back from last year! I can’t believe it.”

It was a whole new paradigm, much like life for a caterpillar that comes out of his cocoon as a butterfly. Same eyes, but a whole new perspective.

Early in the week, Jay was nearly impossible to please, and difficult to get along with. He was a ball of fury and there didn’t seem to be any reason why.

The truth tickled my ears: All behavior is a result of a feeling. Our thoughts influence our feelings and our feelings influence our actions.

After a rocky bedtime routine and a spat that landed Jay in his bed, cocooned inside his thick quilt, and the rest of us perplexed, I stood beside his top bunk and wondered what to do.

I hoisted myself up into the bunk and curled up beside him. He inched away from me and pasted himself to the wall. I left the space between us. If a butterfly is going to thrive, the cocoon must be left alone.

Quietly I asked, “What grade will you be in next year?”

His voice gravely, it seemed like he spit rocks with his answer. “Fifth grade.” Then he rolled over peeked out of a tiny space at the top of his quilt and raised his voice. “Gosh! I don’t know! Who knows what grade I’ll be in! Just leave me alone!”

Only he didn’t move away from me, he moved closer, rolling to close the gap between us and resting his head on my outstretched arm.

Still quiet, I said, “You’ll be in fifth grade, buddy. Kids with all A’s and B’s go to fifth grade. Kids who get along with others and do their best to follow the rules go to fifth grade. You’re going to fifth grade.”

“Whatever. Gosh.” He spit more stones.

“You’ll still have the guys too. Chris and Liam and Gavin will all be your friends when you go to fifth grade. You’ll still be "the guys" in fifth grade.”

Unexpectedly, his little arms shot right out of the quilt and hugged me tight around the waist. I pulled him close and said, “You don’t need to worry about next year. You’ll still be an Ayres. You’ll still be at your school. You’ll still have your friends. There’s no reason to worry.”

His eyes met mine and he smiled. “Okay.”

“Okay,” I said back, but it meant so much more than one little word can hold. It meant this family is forever and you are forever loved.

I climbed down from the top bunk.

“Mom?” his question stopped me and I turned back. Maybe we weren’t okay after all.

“What Jay?”

“I wondered why I was being such a jerk to everyone. I didn’t know I was worried. I’m glad you know about that stuff because I don’t like being a jerk and I guess worrying does weird stuff to you.”

“I love you, Jay.” I clicked off the light. Someday I'll have to tell him I have no idea about stuff, I just listen and love.

Worrying does weird stuff to you. Isn’t that the truth? The magic is right here in the middle of the muddle. We don’t have to worry. Instead, we take the time to listen and love and break into a new perspective. I’m grateful as chains of insecurity and anxiety and anger are loosened from Jay’s heart. We keep catching glimpses of the beauty beneath the cocoon of his heart. Someday it will soar. 

This is most definitely the magic in the muddle.