The Adventure Led Me Here

When the PTO informed me that I had over $200 dollars to spend at the book fair, I was ecstatic. I combed through the shelves and piles of books, thumbing through pages. The stack in my arms teetered as I collected American Girl, Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Magic Treehouse, and non-fiction books bursting with glossy photographs and a plethora of facts about everything from rocks to women in history to outer space.                 As I was finishing up, I paused in front of an unassuming picture book titled ‘Each Kindness.’ The cover wasn’t flashy. I had probably walked past it at least two times without even noticing it. However, after flipping through the story, I knew it was going to be a read aloud that very day.                 I want my kids to learn their multiplication facts and how to write a paragraph with a well-crafted topic sentence. I want my kids to learn to explore and wonder and think critically. However, I also want them to cultivate kindness, so I am always looking for

Over 11 million people are displaced right now because of the conflict in Syria. 11 million.  It’s hard for me to fathom the enormity of that number. For perspective, that is more than the population of Wyoming, Vermont, Alaska, North Dakota, South Dakota, Delaware, Montana, Rhode Island, New Hampshire, and Maine combined. 11 million people who do not currently have what the UN have declared as basic human rights. Lives are literally at stake in places torn apart by war and chaos. We cannot turn our faces or our backs . Talking about the situation can be difficult because it makes us acknowledge that inequality and injustice actually exist. This is what author and advocate for equality Gary Howard refers to as the Luxury of Ignorance (Howard, 2006). For so long, it has been easier for me to glide right on by these issues because, as soon as I admit injustice exists, I am forced to then either become part of the problem or part of the solution. Becoming part o

             I’m the person who can quite literally say that she gets lost in parking lots. It’s a running joke that if I’m ever late for something, it’s probably because I’m lost, driving in circles. I’m sure that after I finish watching the TV show LOST (Sidenote: Yes, I realize that I’m about ten years late on this one), I’ll be able to write some deep comparison of the show to my life.                 Today, I was attempting to drive to a church concert event that a friend invited me to. I left with plenty of time to spare. Music cranked up, clouds dotting the blue skies, and no traffic. The trip was off to an excellent start. As I watched the tiny digital numbers tick by on the dashboard, I was sure I was actually going to arrive early. However, after I passed the same yellow Victorian era house four times, I realized that, in spite of my best intentions to follow the soothing voice of Google Maps, I had been going in circles.                 ‘No big deal,’ I told myself. ‘

“‘It is finished.’ May those words land on your bones for the nights when fear tells you the cross was a beginning & you must finish grace.”  —  Jon Acuff  The cross was enough.When grace tiptoes in with hushed footsteps during raging storms, sometimes we don't hear its gentle whispers to remind us of the victory found on the cross. Expectations and guilt thunder in, chanting our failures and shortcomings. 'Try harder. Be better. Get your act together.' The cross is enough. The cross will be enough. Years ago, every messy, broken part of our lives was nailed to a simple wooden cross and replaced with grace. So often we try to take the brokenness off of the cross, clinging onto the remnants. It is finished' means exactly that. There is completion, and the debt is paid, our guilt erased. Grace isn't carefully budgeted and couponed out; it is extravagant and never-ending. Grace is sufficient, even in our weaknesses, struggles, and pain

His eyes held a library of books that were now dusty and forgotten. "Hi, Grandpa." I squeezed his hand, his skin paper thin. He blinked. "Hi," he croaked, tilting his head to the side. "Who are you?" I should be used to this by now.  But I wasn't. I swallowed around the growing lump in my throat. "It's me, Erica. Your granddaughter." Who lives right across the street and visits you every day. "Oh." He shifted his gaze to the flickering newscast in the background. I lowered myself onto the couch. This wasn't the grandfather I'd grown up with. I had fuzzy warm images of going to church with him every week, bumping up and down in his stormy gray truck. I could still hear him playing his harmonica or relating stories about attending the county fair as a boy, words tumbling out on top of each other. We sat in silence. Some silences are comfortable, refreshing, like dipping your toes into the pool on a

You are the color of the sea Wild wild wild A kite on a blustery day Gentle Velvet stand beneath my feet Cool The man with the cragged face Sliding his metal detector Across the hard packed sand Warm A campfire underneath  The tiny stars Peeking out their shining faces You are the Color of the Sea

Special Edition: You Might be an Education Grad Student When... 1). You watch the Super Bowl while lesson planning and doing homework. 2). Glitter underneath your fingernails is perfectly acceptable. 3). Your lunch consists of a sandwich shaped like a hippo. 4). Talking about data and research studies is something you do with your grad school friends...when you're not even in class. 5). Education books at the library just seem to jump into your arms. 6). You have a Pinterest board labeled 'Classroom Ideas.' Enough said. 7). Sleep is for the weak. 8). You can turn anything into a song. 9). Writing an abstract? Bring. It. On. 10). Even when life is crazy, you wouldn't trade the experience for anything in the world.

I love to plan. I love planning for goals, things, events, vacations, etc. Whether my planning comes to fruition is an entirely different matter altogether. My head is usually in the clouds, thinking and dreaming up something I want to do in the future. The strange place called the present, the here and now, is a place I rarely land. But the future isn't so exciting because once I get there, suddenly, it's the present. Then I'm on to planning for the next thing. When you open a gift, you're paying attention to the gift. You're (hopefully) not thinking about the next gift before you've even unwrapped this one. I want to be present. Life is so very beautiful. And I'm missing out on it. Be present.