Today marks ten years since my Dad peacefully slipped away to heaven.. Anyone who met him, knew from his handshake that he was  a strong man. It was a tiny bacterium that took him from us.  He would probably laugh at the irony of that, and would probably have something wise to say about it all.   

As my mother said in an email, it’s a bummer of a day.  That is true.  It is a bummer.  However, she is the one who told us years ago when our little chihuahua was hit in the road that if we didn’t risk for the sake of love, then our lives on this Earth would be incomplete. The dredlocked-poet Bob Marley said it best:  “To love is to risk not being loved in return. To hope is to risk pain.  To try is to risk failure, but risk must be taken because the greatest hazard in my life is to risk nothing,”   

I’m currently rereading Cold Mountain at Lauren’s request as she is reading it in her AP English class, She knows it’s one of my favorite books and wants to have occasional book talks to pick my brain but to also show me how smart she has become. . Spoiler alert! Stop reading here if you want to read the book.  The protagonist Inman goes AWOL from a Confederate hospital when a blind man  convinces him that losing something you already have is worse than not getting what you want.  I suppose he wondered what he had left to lose and took off for his home, Cold Mountain, to get what he wanted: the love of a young woman, Ada. The journey home is fraught with dangerous encounters and he often turns to nature to look for meaning in the world.  The memories of innocent moments with Ada keep him motivated to live and move forward.   He returns and shares several days of romantic bliss with Ada.  And then the home guard finds him. I”m being speculative, but I’m fairly certain  Inman would say that it was a small price to pay to finally get what he wants. 

We all feel the burden of this “bummer of a day” and on many other occasions.  We miss Dad at chicken barbecues and games at Thanksgiving.  We miss him at football games, graduation, weddings by a lake, and talking about his grandchildren’s engagement stories. We miss him when new babies are born and grow up into toddlers who say funny things.  There is never a time when we don’t think about him.  But it’s a small price to pay to have had him in our lives. I’ll embrace this melancholy day because I know it will dissipate.  There’s a dinner planned a couple of weeks from now at the Blose house.  There will likely be wine, some cold beer, and stories told around the chicken barbecue pit.  I doubt there will be tears or talk of regret.   I won’t be there, but I will hear the echoing laughter 550 miles away in Tennessee.  

At the end of each week in sixth grade, we have “Fun Friday” 30 minutes of social time at the end of the day.   Sadly, recess is thing of the past when students reach middle school.     Although it was warm today, the fields were wet and we opted for game time inside.  I had papers to check, but I chose instead to play UNO with six students.   Some had never played (cursed video games!) so we all assured them that they would learn as we went along.  I loved watching each face wrinkle up in disbelief at the realization of drawing four, changing the color to the “only one NOT in (my) hand,”  or being skipped or reversed.   I laughed out loud when one boy looked at me with a gleam in his eye and said, “I’m going to get you, Mrs. L. I’m going to pay you back for this year.”  We laughed.  The kids talked incessantly (adolescent kids just like to hear themselves talk..a lot). 

 It was time well spent with my kids.  I now have work to do at home, but that’s ok.  You can’t measure what they learned today on any standardized test and knowing the rules of UNO won’t secure them a place in a top-tier college or make them competitive with Chinese kids.  But maybe they will go home tonight and instead of watching tv, suggest a game of cards with their family.  Maybe they will some day look back on this moment, laughing with their teacher on the floor and knowing that all things said in veiled threats toward her were not taken seriously.  Maybe they will understand the importance of laughter and playtime with their own children one day.   What they reminded me of today is my calling to be a teacher wasn’t rooted in a deep desire to teach kids about energy, weather,  tides or our vast universe.   It was because I love kids, especially these adolescent rascals. I love their awkwardness, their need to be affirmed, their laughter, and their perfect imperfections.    I need to remember to give them  a break every now and then to give myself one as well.  

The world has lost a shining example of resiliency and perseverance.  Monica Pence Barlow epitomized the motto: ‘Never Give Up.’ She was my second cousin, and when you are from a family as large as mine (I believe there are 74 first cousins on my Mom’s side of the family) you really can’t possibly know everyone.  Over the past few years, I got to know Monica more as our lives paralleled.  I remember she and Tony speaking to one another at a Christmas party right before he had started his first clinical trial.  She was diagnosed several months before Tony, and the conversation ended with “I’ll pray for you, Tony.”   He was touched by her sincerity and strength.  It was exactly what he needed to hear before going into his clinical trial.  

In January, Monica began coming to Nashville for a clinical trial at Sarah Cannon Research Institute.   She did not look or behave as someone sick or in pain.  She walked into her appointment, head high.   When she described her side effects and symptoms to the nurse at one appointment, I couldn’t believe it.  She had just been on the phone,  talking to someone in the Orioles office, tying up loose ends for the big Fanfest.  Strength.  

On the way home, she turned to me and said, “I noticed that you knew where everything was in the hospital.  Was this hard for you today?”   I confessed that there was just one difficult moment.    I remembered how Tony would go sit down in the waiting room, as I would check him in for his appointment.   Today, when I walked into the waiting room, and turned around, I saw a shaggy-haired young man with his head in his hands, staring at the floor.  A couple of years before, I had turned to see someone else in this same position.  It literally took my breath away.  I didn’t cry.  I didn’t want to run.  I just remembered.  

“If it’s too much, Sarah, I can stay at Hope Lodge.” “Monica, if you can do this,  I can certainly do this.”   

She talked candidly about  cancer and how it would not define her life.  Her job gave her great joy, and it was a welcome reprieve from cancer.  “I don’t know if I have months or years, but I will not let it take over my present life.”   Courage. 

After I dropped her off at the airport, I had some time to think.   How does someone so young become this strong?  Did she learn this from her parents? Her grandparents? Was this a trait that passes through the generations? I knew stories of the benevolent, hard-working great-grandparents that she had never met.  It struck me that it didn’t matter that she had never known them because she had lived her life exactly as they had.  It made me think about my students over the years who miss days and days of school or never complete homework because they “don’t feel good.”  I thought about their enabling parents who rob their children of the opportunity to learn to persevere when things are tough.  

I had meant to ask her permission to write about her on her last planned visit to Nashville, but I never got the chance.   This week, I’m going to take a short break from teaching about ocean tides, to teach my sixth grade science students a lesson about character. They are going to watch the Baltimore news piece about Monica Pence Barlow.   We are going to talk about digging deep when things are tough, and being not a spectator in life,  but an accountable participant.   Monica will be their example. 

Tony’s birthday recently passed.   A day after his birthday, I saw that my teenage daughter had posted something on twitter.  In the picture, she is a little over two and in her Daddy’s arms.  The text below the picture read :  “Unable are the loved to die.  For love is immortality.”   I would offer these words to Monica’s family, but I am certain they already know them.  They learned this from their parents, grandparents and generations before.   Monica will touch lives to come, not because they will know her but because they will know of her.  

 

We all see them every day:  Life lessons condensed into a sentence or two with colorful backgrounds on Instagram, Facebook and Tumbler. One evening, I returned for a second glance to one that grabbed my attention..

  

It’s no secret that I admire J.K. Rowling.  She is an inspiration to many, and I’m intrigued by her story: once a single mom on government assistance and currently, her wealth surpasses the Queen of England.

 Although I am fortunate that I have not been on government assistance, I do know what it’s like to have to dig deep emotionally as a single mom. I get up most mornings at 4:30 to make sure that I have planned out dinner for the evening and that things are in good order around the house.   I leave for work before 6:30, and by 7:30, I am teaching sleepy-eyed sixth graders.  I work all day, teach yoga, take yoga to deepen my practice, and come home to offer support to a sometimes stressed-out junior in high school, clean up, and get ready for the next day.   There’s laundry, dishes, and cleaning.  There’s a big house that sometimes has repairs beyond my limited understanding. There are two teenagers who depend on my strength and energy.   It’s not always easy, but it is what it is. 

 I’ve had some moments this past year where I have really come to terms with what I want in my personal and professional life. I can no longer hang my hopes on my late husband’s songs.  For years, I really believed that with enough perseverance, all the years of sacrificing for the music would pay off.   The beautiful music is still there, but I stopped trying to get the songs into the hands of someone who might record them.   It’s simply out of my hands, and I am actually at peace with it.   I am in my twenty-fifth year of teaching, and we all know how teaching pays.  I needed to find a way to supplement my income.   I wasn’t ready for a complete career change, but I know that by my nature, I am a giver.  Whatever it is that I do with my life has to be of service to someone. 

 I did some soul searching as I tried to plan out the rest of my life.  What did I need?  What did I know?  What had I learned?  Where had my past experiences taken me and how could it help guide me to my next path?   Everything came together about a year ago.  For once in my life, I felt like I had complete clarity and knew what I had to do.

 Here’s what I know.  I have been able to pick myself up and heal physically, emotionally and spiritually.  I have been able to be present for my children to support them, care for them and nurture them.   I spend very little time feeling sorry for myself (unless there is mouse in the garage) and have learned that I am capable of a lot more than I ever thought I was.  How?  I attribute a lot of it to my healthy lifestyle, yoga and short daily meditations.  

My website is peacefulplaceonline.com. The first page has a short video to tell potential subscribers my story and what my hopes are for this site.  There are streaming videos of power vinyasa, the type of yoga I enjoy and teach,  a flow then slow yin class with long stretches, perfect for athletes and runners, and a class with light weights and intense core work.  If you are new to vinyasa yoga, there is one on basic alignment.   I filmed restorative yoga for people who need a gentler yoga and who are regaining their strength.   This portion of the site is where I hope to really grow as I reach out to the cancer community to give people going through treatment or those who are regaining their strength after treatment.   I have audio guided meditations which I wrote for anxiety, sleep problems, forgiveness, gratitude, chemotherapy, healing and more. There is a section of guided meditations for adolescents and teenagers as they deal with the stresses of school, peer pressure and friendships. There is also a link to taking a basic health assessment and to get on the best supplements for your own family history and lifestyle.  I swear by these supplements in helping me feel my best and to look my best. 

If you use this promotional code over the next month, BEGIN, you can get a rate of $6 a month with no long-term commitments.  A few pointers:  update your computer to the latest version of your internet browser (Google Chrome is free and is what the video was first created for in mind).  There is mobile site to access the content from your ipad or smart phone.  If you have an iphone you will want to make sure you go in to Settings<Safari<Block Cookies<Never.  

 I have a long term vision for this site. I want to film video for kids and teenagers with special needs and on the autism spectrum and to write meditations with their needs in mind.   I plan to film video for soldiers recovering from PSD.   I am in the process of writing special meditations for cancer patients and caregivers.  As the business grows, so does my ability to film more high definition video to reach many people.   However, I have to start somewhere, and I’m hoping if you read this, that you will join me to get this business going, and that you will share with people who you know would benefit from this.  You can email me at sarah@peacefulplaceonline.com to get special rates for cancer patients, soldiers and even school teachers but feel free to share the code BEGIN to give everyone you know a low rate.   Share on facebook, and email your friends and family to help me get started.  Thank you! 

I liken this feeling today as I get ready to publicly launch Peaceful Place to that feeling I had when Tony told me we could take Aaron home from the hospital after five days in the ICU.  I remember crying as he just stared at me, slack-jawed, not understanding why I didn’t want to take Aaron home from the hospital.   How was I going to take care of this baby?  What if I dropped him on his head?  What if I couldn’t feed him and he starved to death?  What if Aaron ended up as a student at UVA? (OH, Yes! That did happen :))

 What if this site doesn’t help anyone as it is intended?  What if I am a complete failure at running a business?   What if I can’t find balance and juggle my teaching job and this? When I have these doubts in my head, I think back to where I’ve been (the short little girl who cried easily and lacked confidence) to where I am now, still physically small but a tiny warrior.  Somehow I found the nerve. I’m only a little scared.   Let’s do this.

 

 

 

 

 

For almost twenty five years, I have ridden the waves of education.  I understand the need for accountability as I had my share of mediocre-poor teachers, but shake my head at the lack of foresight in the trend for more testing.  This blog is not about that.  I will save that for another rant.   I am not writing this as a teacher, but as a person whose home has been changed by a good teacher.  

My sixteen year old daughter, Lauren, has always lived somewhat in the shadow of her brother, just as I often found myself as number five in a family of more talented, more brilliant, more athletic, more everything older sisters.  Middle school was tough for her and despite us telling her how smart, pretty, and talented she was, I would often hear her say, “You have to say that.  You are my mom.”   Ugh.   Her lack of self-assurance sometimes lead to some drama within our home.  Neither of us is ashamed to admit that It became severe enough  to seek mother-daughter counseling on how to communicate better.  I would often say, “I don’t care if you like me now, but I want you to like me when you are grown and away from home so let’s work on this now.”   I honestly was often at a loss for what to do.   Things have changed, and I have one person to thank:  Mr. Mark Baker at Brentwood High School.  

Lauren was over the moon when she found out she had him as her AP English teacher.  I had heard him speak at Aaron’s National Honor Society Induction and found myself reduced to tears, grateful that he was willing to share his story of how he became a teacher.  She worked feverishly all fall in his class, never wanting to miss a single lecture, holding on to every word he spoke.  I went to open house just to see what all the fuss was over, and found myself almost in tears again as he talked about how the conversation at our dinner table would change this year.  I was the first to go up and shake his hand, not to ask how she was doing or what her grade was (note to all parents, we teachers do not like when you do that at open house night) but I told him that I hoped he could help Lauren dig deep this year into some emotions that probably had been buried since her Dad passed away.     I went home and admitted that I was in love with Mr. Baker  She laughed and said he was happily married, but that’s not what I really meant.  All parents long for someone to come into our children’s lives outside of our circle who will inspire them, challenge and encourage them.  I told her that I thought he had the power to do just that.   

It really started with the first email from him, not to tell me that she was missing work or that she was talking in class, but to tell me about her academic growth, her insight that she often shared in her annotations and in class discussions  Oh, I will forever carry with me the look on Lauren’s face at dinner that night when we talked about this email.  Then it happened again when she was asked to lead a discussion group.  It happened again when she went in to ask him something,  and he asked her to share with some other students her insight on a book or assignment.  Pure empowerment. 

Lauren gave me a book to  read from her English class, Things They Carried about a platoon in Vietnam.   The title refers to the various things, both emotional and physical mementos, that the soldiers carried from their past with them during the war, some of the things were a burden, others a boost.   The things that my Lauren carries are both a burden and a boost, but I hope she is learning to change her perspective about these things.  It is most certainly a burden to lose your Dad as a teenager, but my prayer is that she carries with her joyful memories and that it boosts her into being the best nurse and Mom that she can be someday.   It may be a burden to live in the shadow of a high-achieving older brother, but my prayer is that she recognizes her gifts and talents are just as worthy to the world.  It may be a burden to have to help out a very busy Mom, but my prayer is that Lauren someday understands my motivation: my hope that my children not live in the stories of their past, but that they understand that life takes many twists and turns.  These twists and turns can derail you or they can point you in a new direction.   I hope she understands the depth of my love and my admiration for how she is choosing to live her life. 

So thank you, Mr. Baker, for being a powerful teacher.  You have made a difference forever in my daughter’s life, in the four walls of this home, and in countless lives to come. 

This is a short blog, but I had to write about this today. It was a remarkable day, once again shedding some light on just what a great life I have. Our first scheduled event was  the 1st birthday celebration of Sophie Meadows, daughter of Brittany and Mike.   Mike plays guitar for an artist who has enjoyed a bit of success (hee hee) and ended his tour last night just in time for his daughter's first birthday.  I recall birthdays for Aaron and Lauren being month-long celebrations in case Daddy was out on tour.   I drank the spiked pink lemonade (oh, I love kids' birthday parties these days) and talked and joked with our Nashville family, many who came here from Virginia  through Tony to play music. Good grief, but I love these people. Mike and Brittany. Amos and Kara. Great friends. We left Sophie's party after seeing her daintily and carefully pick at her cake and headed to Judah Vergason's 2nd birthday party.

 Lauren made Judah Thomas the Train engine cupcakes, and I was very excited about him opening up his presents from us….basically a Thomas starter kit and more.   Judah calls me Aah- Sarah.  When he sees me he usually says "cracker," not because he thinks I'm a white woman who can't dance, but because I usually slip him a cracker, cookie or something his mother probably doesn't have in the cupboard.   Everyone needs an Aa-Sarah to hand them a cracker from time to time.   I got to snuggle with week-old Davis Anthony, born in the car (yeah…true that) in the emergency lane at Vanderbilt Hospital.  I remarked at one point that his head is perfect and Devin commented that it would be because he didn't linger down there too long! Judah shoved the blue cupcake in his mouth which was an improvement on last year when Devin put Cheerios on the top to bribe him into eating it!!  I looked down at Davis snuggling up to me, and I thought to myself how interesting the twists and turns of our lives can be.   What if Tony had never played that show in Anchorage and met Devin who had just happened to win a karaoke contest to sing on the side stage. What if she hadn't moved to Tennessee to pursue a singing career?  Our lives are forever changed because of that one day and those circumstances.  I love Devin and Davis like they are my own nephews.  I love Dylan and Devin like they are blood relatives. I have been blessed with an amazing family (see my blog on “You can Pick your Nose, but you can’t pick your Family”) of my own, but I have these amazing friends in my life who have become my surrogate family when I am so far from my own family.

Summer vacation is over for students and teachers  in Middle Tennessee.   I am beginning my 25th year of teaching, and although I truly tire of riding the wave of the current trends in public education, one thing never gets old: new kids every year!  I love kids, especially the “unloveable,” surly adolescents.  I love that I get to be a part of their lives in their transformative, difficult years.  I love how excited they get when I teach them something new or inspire an idea.  In recent years, I sometimes find my eyes welling up with tears during the mandatory moment of silence when I realize just how important my role is in their lives.  I often  ignore the BS of state testing data,  but I really take my job as their teacher very, very  seriously.   My mind wandered a bit  today during a faculty inservice, and I thought about what we teachers would say to parents if we were allowed to express exactly what we think.  Teachers, you are also going to get some advice because I’m also a parent. 

To parents: 

1.  We were not called to this vocation because we make a lot of money.  We became teachers because we answered the call.   Seriously, I am at the “top” of the pay scale, and Aaron will likely make more than me when he graduates in four years.   My bonus last year came in the form of two students who  would say,  “Thank you,  Mrs. L (you know who you are, GBH and EI!)”  before they left the room each day.   I also got mugs, chocolates,  gift cards, smiles and heart-warming notes.  With that in mind, it’s worth it to note here that  we don’t get an extended summer vacation. Although, for me, one perk of this job is that I do get many extended breaks with my children.  Our contract is over a certain number of days, but  many of us choose to get our paychecks spread out over the summer.  Don’t throw up the “you get summers off” comment because many of us work other jobs, do professional development, and work toward advanced degrees over the nine weeks of summer.  

2.  When your child has a hiccup in the road (behavioral or academic in nature), most teachers understand it is a learning process and don’t hold it against them.   Teachers who take the “whole child” approach to education, understand that kids screw up.  Heck, we screw up even as adults.  Grace is  abundant, and I clean your child’s slate on a continual basis. 

3.  Allow us to help you raise your child.  I tell parents this at open house night,  and I mean it.    Your child is more than likely going to have bumps in the road, but when parents and teachers work together holding the metaphorical safety net, kids learn from their mistakes.  It’s not a reflection on you as a parent if your child isn’t a straight “A” student or even if he or she gets caught cheating on a test.  
Work as a team, let go of your ego, and allow your child to suffer natural consequences to grow into a responsible adult.  

3.  Kids often tell you exactly what you want to hear.  My own two have been burned by this.  I’ll hear, “I got a low grade on that project because she doesn’t like me.”  Nothing upsets a parent more than when someone doesn’t “like” their child.  Does your child ever tell you that he or she cleaned their room and really didn’t?  Uh-hum.  I thought so.   They tell us what we want to hear.  

4.  Teach your child that he or she can learn from the “bad” teachers as well as the “good”  teachers.   I know there are more engaging teachers than others, and some are down-right boring, but our kids are going to have some of their worst teachers (as I did) in college and then who is going to bail them out?  I tell my kids all the time: “You learn to appreciate the excellent teachers more when you have a mediocre teacher.  Tell your good teachers how much you enjoy their class, but always be respectful toward the others. Your boss may be boring and mediocre, too.”   

5.  Take our advice the same way you would take advice from your doctor when he or she tells you that cutting down on salt may lower your high blood pressure.   We are trained professionals.  I have literally taught thousands of adolescents over the past twenty-four years.  I know this age, and I understand them really well; however, you know your child best, but be honest with yourselves on what is working and what is not working.  It’s one thing to tell adults  that they need to stop eating fast food to lower blood pressure, but suggest less video game time for their kids and more time devoted to studying and oh my, it can become touchy to say the least.  

To be fair, I am a devoted parent and wish I could tell teachers a few things about our kids.  

1.  We want you to like our kids because we really love our kids.  When they were first placed in our arms, we felt like we were the first parents on Earth.  I remember Tony telling my Mom that he had just become a father to  Aaron,  but he would gladly throw himself in front of a train for this cone-headed two day old boy.  

2.  When you have to tell us something negative about our kids, sandwich it between  two positives, because again, did we mention that  we really love our kids?  I am empowered to make a change as a parent if I know that there are more positives than negatives. 

3.  Stop giving our kids busy, mindless work.   It’s ridiculous, and it stresses out the entire house when your kid is doing homework six hours a night.  Try doing the work yourselves, time yourselves and see if it’s manageable. There were times when Aaron would get an essay (which I would have been given a week to write  in college) with a  due date of the next day.  Are you really checking these, teachers?  

4. Forget Obama’s “Race to the Top” or Bush’s “No Child Left Behind” and get back to the crux of why you became a teacher:  to make a difference.  I have yet to see a politician who knows what to do with education in our country.  Our country is vast and diverse, and there’s no easy answer. As parents we want politicians and school systems to know that our kids are more than test scores.   I could care less if my child measures up academically to a Chinese child. Chinese children go to school nine hours a day, six days a week, eleven months a year.   They have joyless childhoods and work like robots until they die.   Most American parents want their children to be well-rounded, creative thinkers and are content that their kids can’t pick out Uzbekistan on a map…who gives a rip?  

5.  Be patient with us and don’t judge us.  We are making this parenting thing up as we go along and are learning too.  Try your best not to be condescending in your tone and reassure us that we are doing a good job as parents.  We care what you think about us as much as our kids care what you think of them. You have a lot more power than you realize, teachers.  

I remember when I was a young teacher without kids of my own.  I used to come home and tell Tony stories so that we wouldn’t repeat the mistakes of some of my parents.  But it all changed when I became a parent. My experience as a teacher has made me a better parent, but my experience as a parent has made me into the teacher that I have become for almost a quarter of a century!

It’s the summer before the dreaded Junior year of high school for Lauren.  Things aren’t what they were back in my day.  We didn’t have AP or even Honors level courses.  However, I did notice that all of my core classes from sophomore year and beyond had college-bound peers.  Today’s 4.0 grade point average is not equivalent to a 4.0 in 1984.  With AP classes and kids strategically padding their schedules with the easier AP courses starting their freshman year, it’s possible to graduate with above a 4.5.   The pressure is on  kids today like no other point in history, and it’s not enough to just have outstanding grades in the most challenging of courses.  You have to participate in numerous extracurricular activities, and take on as many leadership opportunities that come your way.  I have fought this somewhat as a parent.  I feel that if your only motivation to serve as a student council president derives not from a place of service but from a place of being more competitive on college admissions, then that’s not authentic and good for anyone.  As frustrated as I am with the current trend, I have no choice as a Mom but to encourage my kids to pay attention to all of this.  I do really believe there is a college and university for everyone, but when your child comes to you and has dreams of going to a top-tier school, you have to lay out the truth.   I have never been a parent who tells my kids that all of their dreams can come true if they just work hard enough.  My life is full of talented people who have worked tirelessly on their craft and have amazing songs, yet they still haven’t achieved their dreams.  Where is this dream-deferred talk going? 

Lauren wants to be a nurse.  I always thought teaching was in her blood but after helping me with science club two summers in a row, she has decided she can’t “stand bratty kids who don’t listen.”   I watched her a little over two years ago take care of her Dad.  She would heat his lavender neck pillow exactly the way he liked it.  He would look at her, raise his eyebrows (because talking had become very tiring at this point) to indicate that he wanted water with just the right amount of crushed ice.  It was a beautiful and yet terribly sad thing to witness yet I think she will carry this memory of service to her beloved father with her forever.  Nursing is Lauren’s call. 

This summer Lauren went with my sister Anne back to Pittsburgh to shadow nurses at my brother in law’s hospital. On her 16th birthday she witnessed her uncle perform spinal cord surgery and another neurosurgeon clip a brain aneurysm.  Very cool!!  She followed a pediatric nurse in the NiCU and met with an admissions director (thanks to Uncle Ray’s mother, Kathleen)  at Duquesne University to give her tips on what to look for in an undergraduate nursing program.  She came back very fired up with big dreams.   And then like most of our teenagers on summer break, she sat.  She texted.  She tweeted.  She surfed the internet and watched tv. Every now and then I would say, “You could use this down time to start filling out your college notebook (Aaron taught her how to research colleges, write down their ACT/SAT GPA information, tuition, etc).”   Or..”We have those SAT and ACT books you can work in, Lauren, because you know you won’t have time once school starts.”   Nothing.   I stopped making suggestions. 

Maybe it was her first college visit to JMU that lit the fire.  She really liked it and didn’t really think she would like her “hometown school,” but she did.  Maybe it was seeing the calendar close in on summer that got her to read her AP English books.  Maybe it was the idea that we were taking Aaron to freshman orientation at UVA this week, and she knows her last two years of high school are going to fly by.  Who knows?  All I know is that one day I got a text that said, “Mom, I’m at Starbucks working.”   Aaron suggested that she was using their wifi to look at Lily Pulitzer dresses online.  But no…she came home with her college notebook completed after researching the best nursing schools, but also with a dose of reality.  She knows what it’s going to take to get into a certain university (like Voldemort, that which cannot be named)  And even though she knows that it will take extracurricular activities,  outstanding grades, above the 50 % ACT/SAT scores, and perfect college essays, there is no guarantee of admission.  I think Lauren understands all of this and I think she is starting to think more like Aaron and me on this:  That wherever she goes will be exactly where she is supposed to go to fulfill her dreams of becoming a nurse.  

School starts in just a few weeks for us.   That’s what happens when you get out before Memorial Day.  I am dreading this Junior year again because I know it comes with tons of homework, late night and early morning studying, typing essays and tears.  I hope I can find a calm place during the storm but more importantly, help Lauren find it, too.  

Dear Aaron,

 As you well know, you are eighteen now because you often remind me of your adult status.  In turn, I always remind you:  “Since I’m still paying the bills, you get to hear my two cents.”  We just finished our fifth youth mission trip together.  It will be your last with your church friends, but I still have at least two more to go with Lauren.  She will get her letter in two years.  The idea to write this came to me when I was gleaning the field in Maryland.  I had never gleaned before, and did not really even know what it meant, but it was a powerful experience.  The solitude of that field allowed me to write this entire letter to you in my head as I settled into the meditative motion of pulling leaves from the collard and kale plants and stuffing them into bag upon bag. 

 I may let up a bit on telling you what to do, but I think there are some valuable things we have learned from these trips together and in fact, from our walk of faith together that started with your baptism.  I am not going to make you feel guilty for not going to church in college because I did not attend church regularly in college. I want to leave you with something that you can read back upon when you feel the need for a Mama’s guidance, not just in the next four years, but in the next fifty. 

 When you are sick of school and the thought of studying for one more test drives you crazy, think about children in third world countries around the world, reading by candlelight, with outdated textbooks and limited school supplies, thrilled to get an education.  Picture a little Afghan girl, maybe one with eyes like your sister who risks her life to attend school.   Study for her. 

If you ever find yourself complaining of the college dorm food or your future wife makes squash casserole (remember that fun meal?) and watermelon (please, I still do not think you are allergic to it), think about what we learned this week:  Many families in your own country have to decide which child eats for the day and which child has to wait until the next day.   When people tell you that there are jobs available if these poor people want them, tell them to try to provide for a family from minimum wage for a week.   Think of the women in Haiti who eat clay to get enough calcium for their unborn children.  Eat your mystery meat or squash casserole for the hungry.

 When you are feeling that your way of worship is the only way, go sit through an African- American church service where sitting solemnly in the Presbyterian way is “weird” or attend a Quaker service where there is no worship service and the silence is completely deafening. If you feel Christianity is the only way, go have lunch with a Buddhist, a Muslim, a Jew, or even an atheist.  Remember what the Jewish, Buddhist and Hindu doctors did for your Dad.  They were doing God’s work, too.  In fact, if you ever have preconceived notions of a minority group, racial, religious or cultural, you will only be able to drop your prejudices if you connect with people.  Step out of your comfort zone, listen to every voice, and learn a new perspective.  

When your back aches from a hard day of mowing and pulling weeds in your lawn on a Saturday, after you have already had a long work-week, reflect back to the day of gleaning the fields. Picture a migrant family, working 12 hour days, seven days a week at minimum wage, moving their family from place-to-place to find more work and facing discrimination wherever they stop.  Suck it up and keep moving.  Show gratitude for the luck that fate bestowed upon you by just being born into a white, middle-class family.

 When you are feeling that your boss is not giving you the recognition you deserve, remember Mrs. Boyd. At 86, she has worked to get fresh fruit and vegetables to poor families in Washington DC since the early 1960’s. The working poor cannot always afford fresh produce. She does not expect recognition or appreciation in return.  She does it because it is the right thing to do.  Humble yourself and find self-satisfaction in your career, but remember that what you do for a living should never define you. 

When you think your kids are acting spoiled or unappreciative, maybe take them on a mission trip or plan some regular volunteer work as a family to help them discover the gift of service.   In fact, the secret is to start it when they are very young.  Have them learn to sit quietly through a church service.  Take them gently by the ear if necessary (it didn’t hurt you), and remind them to respect others’ rights to worship in peace, and it’s best for them to learn at an early age that the sun doesn’t rise and set on their rear ends.  They also should learn that sometimes wisdom comes to us during the quiet times.  Love them fiercely. Parent your kids with passion. 

If you feel you are lost at any time in your life, maybe give faith a chance. Faith is the stuff that lies beyond the scientific and mathematical theories that you will learn.  There are some great intellectual minds that make room for it in their lives, but you will meet plenty who want proof.  There is no proof.  That is what faith is all about.  Even if we are all wrong, it will nourish your soul and enrich your time here on Earth. 

Gleaning the fields goes back to Biblical times. As you now know, it is the process of picking up whatever is left behind in the fields by the farmer.  Some of it not needed and some not up to market standards.  The collards and kale we picked provided nourishment to someone who we will never know.  I did some thinking on that day in the field and I wonder if you did, too.  Do we leave behind people to rot in the field?  Do we say: Why should I go and fix a house for this woman in Jacksonville who might not take care of it, any way?   Why pull weeds and mulch a shopping center in Anacostia when you will never set foot there again?   Why feed the recovering drug addict who doesn’t work and doesn’t really meet “market standard?”  You never know what a single act of kindness might do for someone, and I hope you have learned over the years that God’s children are always worth it.  Glean as may fields as you can, my Aaron.