Yesterday Doc took the biggest exam of his entire life. Without question, Step 1 of the Medical Boards is considered the biggest. It's an 8 hour test. I can only fathom that kind of intensity...perhaps the closest thing in my life experience was being in labor and giving birth.
The build up to this exam has been long. For the past two years, even with all the demands of regular classwork, Doc has set aside time to specifically learn and review what he'd need to know to excel in this moment. Starting this past January, he formed a Step 1 study group, and they would regularly meet and "pimp" each other. The demands on a medical student's time are heavy, and making the effort to prepare for this on top of everything thing else wasn't easy. I'm sure they're all very grateful that they made that sacrifice, because there are plenty of students who are paying the piper now.
Doc feels like he did his best, and that's all we wanted. He won't know his score for weeks, but with that hurdle behind him, it is time to have some fun. Last night he took Gator and met his brother and the three of them saw HULK...which Bunch and I were just fine missing. Now we have a flurry of preparations to make for our trip. In three days we are going to Puerto Rico for a little family get-away. We're really excited to show the kids some of the beauty and natural wonders that little gem of an island holds. The day after we return, Doc is going on a hike with his dad and brothers...which is a tradition they've had every summer for many years now. Then 2 days after the hike, he starts his 1st rotation -- OB/GYN. The intensity begins.
We're all really grateful for the tremendous effort Doc makes to learn all he can. Someday his diligence and effort in really mastering all this informtion will make a huge difference for countless patients and their families, but for now, we're enjoying this little reprieve in his schedule.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Recipe for...
... My Cool Craft Project!
Okay, in a recent post I mentioned that I'd spent a lot of time doing a craft, which I couldn't reveal at the time, because of the slim, minuscule, I'm talking minute chance that one of the people I was sending it to would happen to read my blog (The majority of my friends don't actually read blogs, including mine. I know! What's that about?). So my faithful readers all gave a collective sigh of disappointment, knowing that this excluded them from the candidate list. As mentioned before, I'm deeply sorry about that. Someday I'll make it up to you.
So anyway, the gifts have been sent and received, and now I can finally write about them. Permission granted to rejoice.
First off, you need to make friends worthy of the labor this project will entail. I'm warning you in advance, this may be a bit too much to take on for say, a ChemLawn Guy Appreciation Week gift.
I happen to have at least two people who fall into this category. They are both really smart, nice, and beautiful, and they have both gotten married in the past 10 months. So I wanted to make something special for these dear friends, and thanks to my darling sister Kirsten, who is one of the most crafty, scrappy, creative and artsy persons on planet earth, I was able to send them some really cool...
Photo Puzzles!!!!
INGREDIENTS:
DIRECTIONS:
This is how I did it, but of course you can improvise and do it any way you like.
First off, kiss up to Kirsten, cause it'll just look cool at the end if you do. She'd already made a set of these for her moms for Mother's Day. Her style is so cute, and I loved the boarders that she put around each image. I thought it would be a quick thing to just plop my images onto her templates and voila...ready to print.
I was wrong. Even though she'd already been through this, it took the better part of a Saturday to get these puppies ready for printing.
First, you need to imagine the image diced into ninths, and try to position it so you're not cutting right down someone's eyes, nose, etc. Tricky but worth the time.
After you save the six pictures as 4x4", you can be ultra cool and make a 5x5 of all of them together to put in the picture frame that serves as the Photo Puzzle base. For this part, we created a 5x5" document, and resized each of the 6 images to 1.5" to fit them all in the document. We put 3 on top and 3 on the bottom, and wrote the words "Happily Ever After" in the middle row. The fun fonts and colors Kirsten came up with are just perfect.
I'm all about doing things as affordably as possible...and if you are too, then try this. You can save all of these images side by side on one massive12x36 .jpeg file. At Costco they printed the whole gargantuan thing for about $5.00. Not all Costco's have the same print capabilities, so check with yours before uploading. Don't go by what their website says either...call the store directly and ask the photo lab personally (they don't advertise this size on their website. Alternatively, you can find a photo lab that will print your images any other way. So long as you have the final product in the right size, you're golden (eg: you could make the six images for the blocks all 4x6, and have 2" of white space on the side which you'd just cut out, and the frame image could be a 5x7 with the 2" of white cut off). MATTE FINISH Looks Best!
Okay, so at last you've got your prints. Now, put your kids to bed and then try to call Kirsten for some direction on what to do next. Have no luck reaching her. Stay up till 5:30 am cutting them into nine 1.5" squares with your exacto knife, (and be sure to be terrified that you might make a stupid mistake by just not thinking about something you should have realized).
After pondering and mulling for a while, decide that gluing the center image first, the top, bottom and side middle images next, and the corner images last would work best, to avoid having to trim parts of the picture that you just don't' want to cut off. I had to sacrifice bits of boarders here and there, but that didn't ruin the image). Since each block is slightly different, test lots of them out to make sure each picture is paired up with the block face that most closely matched it's size.
Then use Modge Podge and a paint brush to glue all the little pictures onto the nine wood blocks...one square from each of the six pictures per block of course.
Let the Modge Podge dry, and then put another coat on. I liked the texture made by painting the Modge Podge side to side first, and then the next coat up and down. Let them dry again...completely. While waiting, you can Windex the glass in the picture frame and put your 5x5 image in there.
Now that you're DONE, get excited to finally put the nine photo blocks in the base. Yelp aye carumba! when you discover that even though they all fit in before the Modge Podging took place, the blocks are now just a smidge too big to fit in the picture frame!
Get out your exacto blade again, and whittle the inside edges of the wood frame. Keep trying the blocks to see if it's enough. It's not. Whittle some more. It's still not. Finally, get some sand paper and sand down all four sides till they at last slide in and out freely.
Now go find a black Sharpie marker that isn't dried up. The one in the kitchen doesn't work, so throw it out for all that's holy. You don't need to hang onto dry markers. Next, check the office. Just purple and blue Sharpies. Look in the kid's crayon box...there's one at the bottom that still works (!) Color the part of the frame that you sanded, and sing Glory Hallelujah that the Sharpie marker is exactly the same color as the paint on the frame...so no one can tell that you've done this.
Finally, pick which picture you want to be facing, and assemble it in the glass. Sit and stare at your accomplishment with a silly grin on your face, gazing at it like it's a child you've just labored and given birth too...cause in reality, you've been up just as long with this project as you were with both of your kids' births.
When the sun comes up, take some photos of it, then wrap it up in pretty tissue paper and put a ribbon on it. Pop it in the mail and wait for the phone call. It will come.
Here are a couple images of the finished projects. S&S and C&C, I hope you enjoy these, and that someday your babies will slobber on the fun blocks that auntie Blue made for you to remember that happy day you became a new family! The Modge Podge is harmless...and there are several coats. Should be suckable for years to come!
♥
Okay, in a recent post I mentioned that I'd spent a lot of time doing a craft, which I couldn't reveal at the time, because of the slim, minuscule, I'm talking minute chance that one of the people I was sending it to would happen to read my blog (The majority of my friends don't actually read blogs, including mine. I know! What's that about?). So my faithful readers all gave a collective sigh of disappointment, knowing that this excluded them from the candidate list. As mentioned before, I'm deeply sorry about that. Someday I'll make it up to you.
So anyway, the gifts have been sent and received, and now I can finally write about them. Permission granted to rejoice.
First off, you need to make friends worthy of the labor this project will entail. I'm warning you in advance, this may be a bit too much to take on for say, a ChemLawn Guy Appreciation Week gift.
I happen to have at least two people who fall into this category. They are both really smart, nice, and beautiful, and they have both gotten married in the past 10 months. So I wanted to make something special for these dear friends, and thanks to my darling sister Kirsten, who is one of the most crafty, scrappy, creative and artsy persons on planet earth, I was able to send them some really cool...
Photo Puzzles!!!!
INGREDIENTS:
- Image editing software (Photoshop, Elements, etc)
- Six pictures, printed to 4x4 size
- Nine 1.5" inch plain wood blocks (from a craft store, such as Michael's. Mine were $.33 a block)
- Matte Modge Podge (it's like runny Elmer's white glue. Non-toxic, harmless, amazing stuff. Available at Walmart, craft stores etc.)
- One 5x5 picture frame (mine was $3.50 at Ben Franklin)
- One 5x5 picture to go in the picture frame
DIRECTIONS:
This is how I did it, but of course you can improvise and do it any way you like.
First off, kiss up to Kirsten, cause it'll just look cool at the end if you do. She'd already made a set of these for her moms for Mother's Day. Her style is so cute, and I loved the boarders that she put around each image. I thought it would be a quick thing to just plop my images onto her templates and voila...ready to print.
I was wrong. Even though she'd already been through this, it took the better part of a Saturday to get these puppies ready for printing.
First, you need to imagine the image diced into ninths, and try to position it so you're not cutting right down someone's eyes, nose, etc. Tricky but worth the time.
After you save the six pictures as 4x4", you can be ultra cool and make a 5x5 of all of them together to put in the picture frame that serves as the Photo Puzzle base. For this part, we created a 5x5" document, and resized each of the 6 images to 1.5" to fit them all in the document. We put 3 on top and 3 on the bottom, and wrote the words "Happily Ever After" in the middle row. The fun fonts and colors Kirsten came up with are just perfect.
I'm all about doing things as affordably as possible...and if you are too, then try this. You can save all of these images side by side on one massive12x36 .jpeg file. At Costco they printed the whole gargantuan thing for about $5.00. Not all Costco's have the same print capabilities, so check with yours before uploading. Don't go by what their website says either...call the store directly and ask the photo lab personally (they don't advertise this size on their website. Alternatively, you can find a photo lab that will print your images any other way. So long as you have the final product in the right size, you're golden (eg: you could make the six images for the blocks all 4x6, and have 2" of white space on the side which you'd just cut out, and the frame image could be a 5x7 with the 2" of white cut off). MATTE FINISH Looks Best!
Okay, so at last you've got your prints. Now, put your kids to bed and then try to call Kirsten for some direction on what to do next. Have no luck reaching her. Stay up till 5:30 am cutting them into nine 1.5" squares with your exacto knife, (and be sure to be terrified that you might make a stupid mistake by just not thinking about something you should have realized).
After pondering and mulling for a while, decide that gluing the center image first, the top, bottom and side middle images next, and the corner images last would work best, to avoid having to trim parts of the picture that you just don't' want to cut off. I had to sacrifice bits of boarders here and there, but that didn't ruin the image). Since each block is slightly different, test lots of them out to make sure each picture is paired up with the block face that most closely matched it's size.
Then use Modge Podge and a paint brush to glue all the little pictures onto the nine wood blocks...one square from each of the six pictures per block of course.
Let the Modge Podge dry, and then put another coat on. I liked the texture made by painting the Modge Podge side to side first, and then the next coat up and down. Let them dry again...completely. While waiting, you can Windex the glass in the picture frame and put your 5x5 image in there.
Now that you're DONE, get excited to finally put the nine photo blocks in the base. Yelp aye carumba! when you discover that even though they all fit in before the Modge Podging took place, the blocks are now just a smidge too big to fit in the picture frame!
Get out your exacto blade again, and whittle the inside edges of the wood frame. Keep trying the blocks to see if it's enough. It's not. Whittle some more. It's still not. Finally, get some sand paper and sand down all four sides till they at last slide in and out freely.
Now go find a black Sharpie marker that isn't dried up. The one in the kitchen doesn't work, so throw it out for all that's holy. You don't need to hang onto dry markers. Next, check the office. Just purple and blue Sharpies. Look in the kid's crayon box...there's one at the bottom that still works (!) Color the part of the frame that you sanded, and sing Glory Hallelujah that the Sharpie marker is exactly the same color as the paint on the frame...so no one can tell that you've done this.
Finally, pick which picture you want to be facing, and assemble it in the glass. Sit and stare at your accomplishment with a silly grin on your face, gazing at it like it's a child you've just labored and given birth too...cause in reality, you've been up just as long with this project as you were with both of your kids' births.
When the sun comes up, take some photos of it, then wrap it up in pretty tissue paper and put a ribbon on it. Pop it in the mail and wait for the phone call. It will come.
Here are a couple images of the finished projects. S&S and C&C, I hope you enjoy these, and that someday your babies will slobber on the fun blocks that auntie Blue made for you to remember that happy day you became a new family! The Modge Podge is harmless...and there are several coats. Should be suckable for years to come!
♥
Thursday, June 12, 2008
The Happy Conclusion
Today I found myself at Costco, right next to the hospital that my friend Jodi had gone to last night, so I decided to find out how things had turned out.
After parking at Costco, on the far south end of the complex, I found out that the Maternity ward was on the farthest possible north end of the complex. A 15 minute walk (okay, I exaggerate) later, I finally found my way to the room the receptionist had told me she was in. I had to ask "what department is this? Maternity, or L&D?" It was maternity...meaning, she had indeed had the baby. I was excited.
Knocking on the door, I heard a quiet voice say "come in". And there, in her hospital bed was Jodi, with the cutest little package ever. She looked positively radiant...almost like she'd showered and done her hair even (she swears she hadn't). People who just gave birth shouldn't look that fresh and beautiful...they make me wonder what was wrong with me. But Jodi was positively aglow, and what a happy day for them all!
Last night before I (blissfully) fell asleep, I'd prayed for her. I figured she was exhausted already, and that she probably wasn't getting much sleep that night. I hoped everything would go well. Happily it did. Baby boy O was born around 5a.m., weighing 7.14 and he's just the sweetest little bundle. It was such a neat thing to hear how it went, and see the conclusion of what started when I stopped by last night.
I took a lot of pictures and a couple video clips for her of these precious first few hours. Right as I was getting ready to leave, her family came, and the three kids all got to see their new baby for the first time. I captured it on video for them. It's so wonderful to see the love in their darling family. Happy days for the C's! Thanks for letting me be part of this wonderful event. ♥
After parking at Costco, on the far south end of the complex, I found out that the Maternity ward was on the farthest possible north end of the complex. A 15 minute walk (okay, I exaggerate) later, I finally found my way to the room the receptionist had told me she was in. I had to ask "what department is this? Maternity, or L&D?" It was maternity...meaning, she had indeed had the baby. I was excited.
Knocking on the door, I heard a quiet voice say "come in". And there, in her hospital bed was Jodi, with the cutest little package ever. She looked positively radiant...almost like she'd showered and done her hair even (she swears she hadn't). People who just gave birth shouldn't look that fresh and beautiful...they make me wonder what was wrong with me. But Jodi was positively aglow, and what a happy day for them all!
Last night before I (blissfully) fell asleep, I'd prayed for her. I figured she was exhausted already, and that she probably wasn't getting much sleep that night. I hoped everything would go well. Happily it did. Baby boy O was born around 5a.m., weighing 7.14 and he's just the sweetest little bundle. It was such a neat thing to hear how it went, and see the conclusion of what started when I stopped by last night.
I took a lot of pictures and a couple video clips for her of these precious first few hours. Right as I was getting ready to leave, her family came, and the three kids all got to see their new baby for the first time. I captured it on video for them. It's so wonderful to see the love in their darling family. Happy days for the C's! Thanks for letting me be part of this wonderful event. ♥
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
I L♥ve It When That Happens!
I'm the chair of the food committee for a charitable 5K race in my community this Saturday, and in this capacity, it was my job to round up donations of bagels, fruit, beverages, popcicles, etc. Because I'm terrified of not having enough, I arranged with a local bagel place to pick up all their end-of-day bagels every day this week (they throw them out otherwise), just in case they had great sales and didn't have many leftovers.
Well, it's Wednesday, and we're already doing just fine. Enough and to spare for sure. There were so many today that I knew they wouldn't all fit in the deep freezer this batch was headed for. Plus they'd asked if I'd also like the left over pastries and sweets. I said sure.
So before leaving my house to drop the bagels off at the deep freezer, I made up a couple bags of treats up. There is a young family in the area that I've been introduced to but don't really know, and the husband was recently diagnosed with glioblastoma multiforme. That's a bad one, in case you aren't familiar with it. Doc's dear friend and co-worker in Vermont had it, and it was painful to watch the process of him dying. I can't imagine what they're feeling and how hard it must be to deal with this. They have young kids.
So I packed up the treats and decided that even though they didn't know me really, I'd take some to their family. The mom was home and was so amazed that I would do that for them. I hope they have a few moments of wild abandon while snarfing the yummies. And I'm hoping and praying that they get a miracle.
Then I ran into another family that had actually crossed my mind as possible candidates for my bags of goodies. They were just out for a walk, and I stopped and we talked for bit. Before we parted I reached in the car and pulled out a bag and gave it to them. They were excited too.
After that, I had one more bag. There were a lot of bagels in it...too many for one family, really. I said out loud, "Heavenly Father, who should I give these to?"
Now I should mention here that I almost never feel like I'm inspired. And in this moment I didn't feel like I was either. But the name of a new friend, Jodi, came to mind, and even though I've never been to her house before, it's right by my friend Michelle's house, and she has lots of boys who I figured would eat them. So I decided I'd take some to both. Cause maybe that's how inspiration works.
I pulled up, went to the door, and noticed that the house I thought was Jodi's was under construction. Puzzled, I looked at the homes on either side, and not being sure which it could be, I decided to deliver Michelle's first and ask her.
After about 10 minutes visiting with Michelle, I headed back to the house. Turns out it was the right house, but they're living downstairs while doing remodeling construction upstairs. As I walked around to the side, the dad saw me out the window and waved at me. I went around to the back door and asked if Jodi was home. He said that she was, but that she was indisposed.
"Who's there?" Jodi called out from nearby.
"It's Blue" I replied, "I just wanted to drop off some bagels."
Oh Blue! I'm in the bathroom because my water just broke!
Jodi is 38 weeks pregnant with her fourth child.
So happily I was able to come in and help out with the kids for a bit while Jodi and her hubby put their things together to go to the hospital. They hadn't expected it this early...and she had nothing ready yet. Their children are all so well-behaved and sweet that it was just a delight to spend that precious time with them right before this most holy event. (Giving birth was definitely among the most sacred experiences I've ever had.)
After getting jammies on and brushing teeth in record time, we read stories and talked about the new baby. Mom & dad had called grandma and grandpa, who were on their way to come stay the night. I was just staying till they arrived.
Jodi just couldn't believe I picked that moment to stop by, and neither could I. But I tell you, nothing in the world feels better than getting and following a prompting where you end up making a difference in someone's life. Maybe the key is just asking more.
Baby C, I can't wait to meet you! You're one lucky kiddo to have such a great family!
Well, it's Wednesday, and we're already doing just fine. Enough and to spare for sure. There were so many today that I knew they wouldn't all fit in the deep freezer this batch was headed for. Plus they'd asked if I'd also like the left over pastries and sweets. I said sure.
So before leaving my house to drop the bagels off at the deep freezer, I made up a couple bags of treats up. There is a young family in the area that I've been introduced to but don't really know, and the husband was recently diagnosed with glioblastoma multiforme. That's a bad one, in case you aren't familiar with it. Doc's dear friend and co-worker in Vermont had it, and it was painful to watch the process of him dying. I can't imagine what they're feeling and how hard it must be to deal with this. They have young kids.
So I packed up the treats and decided that even though they didn't know me really, I'd take some to their family. The mom was home and was so amazed that I would do that for them. I hope they have a few moments of wild abandon while snarfing the yummies. And I'm hoping and praying that they get a miracle.
Then I ran into another family that had actually crossed my mind as possible candidates for my bags of goodies. They were just out for a walk, and I stopped and we talked for bit. Before we parted I reached in the car and pulled out a bag and gave it to them. They were excited too.
After that, I had one more bag. There were a lot of bagels in it...too many for one family, really. I said out loud, "Heavenly Father, who should I give these to?"
Now I should mention here that I almost never feel like I'm inspired. And in this moment I didn't feel like I was either. But the name of a new friend, Jodi, came to mind, and even though I've never been to her house before, it's right by my friend Michelle's house, and she has lots of boys who I figured would eat them. So I decided I'd take some to both. Cause maybe that's how inspiration works.
I pulled up, went to the door, and noticed that the house I thought was Jodi's was under construction. Puzzled, I looked at the homes on either side, and not being sure which it could be, I decided to deliver Michelle's first and ask her.
After about 10 minutes visiting with Michelle, I headed back to the house. Turns out it was the right house, but they're living downstairs while doing remodeling construction upstairs. As I walked around to the side, the dad saw me out the window and waved at me. I went around to the back door and asked if Jodi was home. He said that she was, but that she was indisposed.
"Who's there?" Jodi called out from nearby.
"It's Blue" I replied, "I just wanted to drop off some bagels."
Oh Blue! I'm in the bathroom because my water just broke!
Jodi is 38 weeks pregnant with her fourth child.
So happily I was able to come in and help out with the kids for a bit while Jodi and her hubby put their things together to go to the hospital. They hadn't expected it this early...and she had nothing ready yet. Their children are all so well-behaved and sweet that it was just a delight to spend that precious time with them right before this most holy event. (Giving birth was definitely among the most sacred experiences I've ever had.)
After getting jammies on and brushing teeth in record time, we read stories and talked about the new baby. Mom & dad had called grandma and grandpa, who were on their way to come stay the night. I was just staying till they arrived.
Jodi just couldn't believe I picked that moment to stop by, and neither could I. But I tell you, nothing in the world feels better than getting and following a prompting where you end up making a difference in someone's life. Maybe the key is just asking more.
Baby C, I can't wait to meet you! You're one lucky kiddo to have such a great family!
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Seeking Clarity
Yesterday I got an email from my mom that she was coming to town today, and would love to see the kids and me if possible. My brother picked up Bunch & Gator and they are out to lunch with her right now.
We have a complicated relationship, my mother and I. It's matched only by the complexity of my relationship with my father. For the past 20 months I've had no contact with him, and only a couple email exchanges and one short in-face visit with my mother. I'm trying to sort things out with them, but in the meantime I feel peaceful about the "break" that I'm on. I requested it because it just got too painful to interface with them, and I couldn't work through things with them actively in my life. So I asked for space to see if I could finally figure things out.
I'm not sure why it's taking so long to find my way in this regard. One thing that crossed my mind is that perhaps it's not about me. Maybe things had to get to this point for my father (and mother) to be able to learn some things that they wouldn't learn otherwise. And that once that has happened, my life-long prayers will finally be answered. Perhaps God is creating a space in all of us for the healing and growth that is necessary to occur.
Part of me is afraid of that healing, which may sound odd. But the pain and discomfort have been my life-long companions from my earliest memories. It's hard to imagine feeling any other way. And while I'm sure this time has been painful for my parents and I feel bad about that, and wish there were some way around it, it probably doesn't compare to the pain that their actions have caused me and my siblings throughout our lives. My mother's email to me yesterday had a quote in it from someone that rings true:
We have a complicated relationship, my mother and I. It's matched only by the complexity of my relationship with my father. For the past 20 months I've had no contact with him, and only a couple email exchanges and one short in-face visit with my mother. I'm trying to sort things out with them, but in the meantime I feel peaceful about the "break" that I'm on. I requested it because it just got too painful to interface with them, and I couldn't work through things with them actively in my life. So I asked for space to see if I could finally figure things out.
I'm not sure why it's taking so long to find my way in this regard. One thing that crossed my mind is that perhaps it's not about me. Maybe things had to get to this point for my father (and mother) to be able to learn some things that they wouldn't learn otherwise. And that once that has happened, my life-long prayers will finally be answered. Perhaps God is creating a space in all of us for the healing and growth that is necessary to occur.
Part of me is afraid of that healing, which may sound odd. But the pain and discomfort have been my life-long companions from my earliest memories. It's hard to imagine feeling any other way. And while I'm sure this time has been painful for my parents and I feel bad about that, and wish there were some way around it, it probably doesn't compare to the pain that their actions have caused me and my siblings throughout our lives. My mother's email to me yesterday had a quote in it from someone that rings true:
Forgiveness takes time, but healing and trust often take longer still. Ignoring a problem can help us cope for a while, but eventually the problem will present itself to be addressed until it is finally resolved.I did cope with my pain by ignoring it and pretending it wasn't there my whole life. It was, in part, an effort to protect myself and them, but it was also my childlike understanding of how to obey the "honor they father and thy mother" commandment. Now I'm finally acknowledging things, but that doesn't make it easier. I still don't know what to do. I have no road map for making things right. I am still seeking clarity and trying to find my way. Writing is the only thing that seems to help.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Summer Adventure #1: Timponogos Caves
For our first "Mom Camp Adventure" of the summer, the kids and I headed up American Fork Canyon to visit the Timponogos Caves.
I had never been on the road that leads to the caves before. When we set out, things were beautiful. But as we got off the freeway, it started to sprinkle.
"Mommy, what are those drops on the windshield?" my son asked from the back seat.
"Oh, I'm sure it's just a fluke. A few measly drips. Maybe a car passed pulling a boat and it splashed." I replied, hoping to avoid a freakout mood shift.
Then the heavens opened and started to dump. By the time we reached the National Park entrance booth, it was hailing. In June. They said that it was sleeting up at the entrance to the caves.
I decided since we'd come that far that we should just take a lovely, rainy drive through the canyon. When we got to the visitor's center, we got out just to check things out. Gator was pulling to go hiking any way...an unexpected shift. We didn't have any rain gear, and the gift shop had sold 100 rain ponchos in 30 minutes flat...with none left to buy.
We decided to purchase cave tour tickets tickets and then if we didn't make it to the cave for any reason, we'd get a refund.
So we set out. It's a mile and a half hike up the trail, and pretty steep. I expected to make it just a little way before we would turn around due to weather or poor attitudes, but by grace the rain just suddenly stopped as soon as we set out on the trail, and never started up again. The kids had great attitudes, and we had a simply breathtaking trek up the mountain. I am constantly amazed by the beauty of this area where we live. It's astonishing!
Upon reaching the top, we joined right up with a tour guide entering the caves. The tour took an hour, and it was amazing. There are only 2 other cave sites in the world with as many Stalactites and Stalagmites as Timp Caves have. One is in Mexico, and the other in France. It's fantastic.
After the tour, Bunch & Gator interviewed our guide as part of earning their "Junior Ranger" certificates, and then we hiked down. We found out there was a free class going on at 7pm to learn about mining in Utah followed by a panning for gold activity. The kids both wanted to stay, so we did.
Here are pictures from our fun day. In addition to regular trips to the library and other local activities, my goal is to have one fun Mom Camp activity every week with the kids this summer.
It's going to be great! ♥
I had never been on the road that leads to the caves before. When we set out, things were beautiful. But as we got off the freeway, it started to sprinkle.
"Mommy, what are those drops on the windshield?" my son asked from the back seat.
"Oh, I'm sure it's just a fluke. A few measly drips. Maybe a car passed pulling a boat and it splashed." I replied, hoping to avoid a freakout mood shift.
Then the heavens opened and started to dump. By the time we reached the National Park entrance booth, it was hailing. In June. They said that it was sleeting up at the entrance to the caves.
I decided since we'd come that far that we should just take a lovely, rainy drive through the canyon. When we got to the visitor's center, we got out just to check things out. Gator was pulling to go hiking any way...an unexpected shift. We didn't have any rain gear, and the gift shop had sold 100 rain ponchos in 30 minutes flat...with none left to buy.
We decided to purchase cave tour tickets tickets and then if we didn't make it to the cave for any reason, we'd get a refund.
So we set out. It's a mile and a half hike up the trail, and pretty steep. I expected to make it just a little way before we would turn around due to weather or poor attitudes, but by grace the rain just suddenly stopped as soon as we set out on the trail, and never started up again. The kids had great attitudes, and we had a simply breathtaking trek up the mountain. I am constantly amazed by the beauty of this area where we live. It's astonishing!
Upon reaching the top, we joined right up with a tour guide entering the caves. The tour took an hour, and it was amazing. There are only 2 other cave sites in the world with as many Stalactites and Stalagmites as Timp Caves have. One is in Mexico, and the other in France. It's fantastic.
After the tour, Bunch & Gator interviewed our guide as part of earning their "Junior Ranger" certificates, and then we hiked down. We found out there was a free class going on at 7pm to learn about mining in Utah followed by a panning for gold activity. The kids both wanted to stay, so we did.
Here are pictures from our fun day. In addition to regular trips to the library and other local activities, my goal is to have one fun Mom Camp activity every week with the kids this summer.
It's going to be great! ♥
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Couch to 5K
Here is my running workout plan for the next 2 months. I'll intersperse with other things on alternate days:
You may think it's pathetically slow, but I'm hoping it's the ticket for me gearing up to training for the1/2 marathon. The biggest changes will come by gearing up to be able to run 5K consistently. It's the Couch to 5K Running Plan. Though in my case it'd be more aptly called a Computer to 5K, since I spend so much time at this thing. Anyone out there care to join me?!!
You may think it's pathetically slow, but I'm hoping it's the ticket for me gearing up to training for the1/2 marathon. The biggest changes will come by gearing up to be able to run 5K consistently. It's the Couch to 5K Running Plan. Though in my case it'd be more aptly called a Computer to 5K, since I spend so much time at this thing. Anyone out there care to join me?!!
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
What are the odds?
It had been ingrained in me from my earliest days: “You’re Not Allowed To Be At The School When School Is Over”. This was one of the most clear-cut rules we had as kids.
I don’t remember being given any examples of what might happen if we did go to the school when it wasn’t in session. But I had a vivid imagination as a child. It was big enough to conjure up reasons enough to obey it without question.
Till 7th grade that is.
One day when I was in 7th grade, my friend Ann* and I went to her friend Dana’s* house after school to hang out. (By middle school you don’t “play” any more, you just hang out.)
Ann and Dana were in 6th grade, and had a homework assignment in one of their classes that they had to finish. I was just chillin’ when Dana realized that she needed a book out of her locker for the report they were working on.
“Blue, can you run over to the school and get a book for me?” she asked.
Duuuh, duh duh Duuuuuuuuuuuh. Here was the moment of truth. I analyzed the facts:
1) It was against our family’s rules for me to go.
2) Those rules had been in effect since before I was in kindergarten.
3) I was 14 now.
4) Dana’s house was just one block from the school.
5) Ann and Dana were busy working, and I was doing nothing.
But still, fact #1 was huge in my mind. I lived in fear of doing anything that could get me in trouble at home.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to go to the school after hours” I sheepishly told Dana.
This excuse didn’t go over well.
“It’s only a block away”, she replied, derision clear in her voice. “You can even take my bike. It won't take you any time at all.”
With the pressure on, I finally relented. Dana wrote down her locker number for me, and I set off on her bike.
It was really only about a 2 minute ride from Dana’s house to her locker, and I was just closing it after getting the book out when two girls walked around the corner into the courtyard where I was standing.
One of the girls was someone I had played with in the past (back when we were young enough to “play” after school). Her name was Lisa, and though we hadn’t had much contact in recent history, there was no bad blood between us. The other girl seemed much older, and I had never seen her before.
“I don’t like what you’ve been saying about my friends”, the older girl said to me as they approached.
I looked at her confused. I hadn’t said anything about Lisa ever.
“I don’t know what you mean”, I replied.
“Yes you DO!” she said, suddenly reaching out and punching me in the face.
I had never been hit in the face before. Especially by someone who meant business. The moment was so surreal that time seemed suspended, as if in slow motion. This complete stranger continued to pelt me with a mean left hook, slamming me back against the lockers. Once I collapsed and sank to the ground, she started kicking me. I looked up at Lisa, my eyes filled pleading, fear, pain, and the question Why?
After what seemed like a long time, (but in reality was probably less than 2 minutes) I heard Lisa’s voice. “Come on, Tari. Let's go.” So her name is Tari.
At Lisa’s insistence, Tari finally turned as if to leave, but then thinking twice, she turned back and decided to take the bike with her. Dana’s bike.
At that point I knew I was already in trouble, and I didn’t want to catch even more hot water by letting Dana’s bike get stolen too while in my possession. So I reached out and grabbed the only thing close enough get my hands on…the back tire. We wrestled for control for a moment asTari tried to pull the bike out of my grip, the spokes cutting into my fingers.
“Just leave it!” Lisa implored. And for some reason, Tari relinquished the bike, and the two of them walked away, leaving me alone in the courtyard.
I was a mess. My nose was bleeding, my eye was swelling up, and I was bruised from the kicking and punching. As soon as they were gone, the fear that had gripped me broke, and I just lay on the ground sobbing for a few minutes. Finally, it occurred to me that I’d better get out of there in case they returned for another round. After struggling to my feet, I realized I couldn’t ride the bike because of my injuries, so I just put the text book in the basket, and pushed it back to the house.
Time hadn’t quite yet returned to normal speed as I trudged back to the house. I remember the looks on the faces of the drivers who stopped for me as I crossed in the crosswalk. At that point I still had no idea what I looked like. All I knew was that I couldn’t risk my parents finding out that I had Been At The School When School Was Over. Because I just desperately didn’t want to get in trouble. I decided while walking that I would swear Ann and Dana to secrecy about the matter.
Letting the bike fall in the yard, I walked into the house to hear Dana call out, “took you long enough”. Then they looked up and saw me.
It doesn’t take much to make a thirteen year old girl freak out. Dana’s face was a portrait of shock, wonder, and probably a little bit of guilt, as she realized that I hadn’t wanted to go, but had done it at her insistence. Ann just looked horrified.
“What happened?” they demanded in unison.
“I got beat up” I said through my tears.
“By who?”
As the details of the experience tumbled out, I tried to get them to swear that they wouldn’t tell my parents. But Ann wasn’t having any of it. “You have to tell them”, she informed me.
“NO!” I told her. “I’ll just get in more trouble.”
“Then I’m going to tell my mom” she said. “Cause you can’t walk home like this, and besides, the second you do, your parents will know any way.” She pointed me towards a mirror.
My face! It was completely messed. Granted the crying hadn’t improved matters. But there was a shiner forming and several bruises and cuts. My nose had stopped bleeding, but even after washing the blood off I realized Ann was right. There was no way to hide the situation. My parents would find out.
This awareness added a whole new level of anxiety to the situation, but there was nothing else to be done. Ann called her mom and told her the scoop. Her mom then called my parents. Shortly thereafter, my parents arrived at Dana’s house to pick me up. After rehearsing the story for them, they decided to call the police.
A police officer arrived and questioned me. Then the officer and my parents and I drove me over to Lisa’s house in his squad car.
I can’t imagine that any parent relishes seeing a police car pull up in their driveway. Lisa's door opened slowly at our knock, and the timid woman I hadn’t seen since more innocent times stood there nervously.
Even though it had been a couple years since I’d played at their house, she still remembered me. She was a meek woman, and after hearing the situation I could tell that she felt really bad, but also relieved that it wasn’t her daughter who’d kicked my can.
“Lisa’s been hanging out with some pretty rough kids lately” she confided with worry in her voice. "I don't really know what to do with her."
“Do you know who this ‘Tari’ girl might be?” the officer asked.
Thankfully she at least knew a last name, which the officer called in to look up.
After getting an address, we drove to the apartment that Tari lived in with her dad and step-brother. They were both home when we got there, but hadn’t seen Tari in a few hours. Thankfully the officer did the talking…which was a relief for me. He gathered the information he needed, and then drove us home.
I was dreading the moment when I would finally be left alone with my parents. After all, I had Gone To The School When School Is Over. Surely there would be wrath.
But I was mistaken. Perhaps they figured I’d been punished enough. Perhaps it was just the Lord’s tender mercy. But they didn’t meet out any further consequences beyond a simple “we warned you.”
What are the odds that the first time I set foot on the school campus something like this would happen? Probably not too high. The incident has made me wonder how different our lives would be if we all paid a heavy price the very first time we disobeyed, instead of getting away with things till we're past feeling bad about them. It was a painful lesson to learn, but at least I learned it. Never again did I go to the school after hours.
Post Script:
It turned out that Tari was 18 years old at the time, and therefore was arrested and charged as an adult with assault, battery, and attempted theft.
I have no memories of Lisa after that day. Needless-to-say, we never played after school again.
Though I was completely naive about everything to do with drugs at that time, looking back I’m pretty convinced that Tari, and possibly Lisa, were probably high on something when this happened. I hope their lives have turned around!
* name has been changed
I don’t remember being given any examples of what might happen if we did go to the school when it wasn’t in session. But I had a vivid imagination as a child. It was big enough to conjure up reasons enough to obey it without question.
Till 7th grade that is.
One day when I was in 7th grade, my friend Ann* and I went to her friend Dana’s* house after school to hang out. (By middle school you don’t “play” any more, you just hang out.)
Ann and Dana were in 6th grade, and had a homework assignment in one of their classes that they had to finish. I was just chillin’ when Dana realized that she needed a book out of her locker for the report they were working on.
“Blue, can you run over to the school and get a book for me?” she asked.
Duuuh, duh duh Duuuuuuuuuuuh. Here was the moment of truth. I analyzed the facts:
1) It was against our family’s rules for me to go.
2) Those rules had been in effect since before I was in kindergarten.
3) I was 14 now.
4) Dana’s house was just one block from the school.
5) Ann and Dana were busy working, and I was doing nothing.
But still, fact #1 was huge in my mind. I lived in fear of doing anything that could get me in trouble at home.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to go to the school after hours” I sheepishly told Dana.
This excuse didn’t go over well.
“It’s only a block away”, she replied, derision clear in her voice. “You can even take my bike. It won't take you any time at all.”
With the pressure on, I finally relented. Dana wrote down her locker number for me, and I set off on her bike.
It was really only about a 2 minute ride from Dana’s house to her locker, and I was just closing it after getting the book out when two girls walked around the corner into the courtyard where I was standing.
One of the girls was someone I had played with in the past (back when we were young enough to “play” after school). Her name was Lisa, and though we hadn’t had much contact in recent history, there was no bad blood between us. The other girl seemed much older, and I had never seen her before.
“I don’t like what you’ve been saying about my friends”, the older girl said to me as they approached.
I looked at her confused. I hadn’t said anything about Lisa ever.
“I don’t know what you mean”, I replied.
“Yes you DO!” she said, suddenly reaching out and punching me in the face.
I had never been hit in the face before. Especially by someone who meant business. The moment was so surreal that time seemed suspended, as if in slow motion. This complete stranger continued to pelt me with a mean left hook, slamming me back against the lockers. Once I collapsed and sank to the ground, she started kicking me. I looked up at Lisa, my eyes filled pleading, fear, pain, and the question Why?
After what seemed like a long time, (but in reality was probably less than 2 minutes) I heard Lisa’s voice. “Come on, Tari. Let's go.” So her name is Tari.
At Lisa’s insistence, Tari finally turned as if to leave, but then thinking twice, she turned back and decided to take the bike with her. Dana’s bike.
At that point I knew I was already in trouble, and I didn’t want to catch even more hot water by letting Dana’s bike get stolen too while in my possession. So I reached out and grabbed the only thing close enough get my hands on…the back tire. We wrestled for control for a moment asTari tried to pull the bike out of my grip, the spokes cutting into my fingers.
“Just leave it!” Lisa implored. And for some reason, Tari relinquished the bike, and the two of them walked away, leaving me alone in the courtyard.
I was a mess. My nose was bleeding, my eye was swelling up, and I was bruised from the kicking and punching. As soon as they were gone, the fear that had gripped me broke, and I just lay on the ground sobbing for a few minutes. Finally, it occurred to me that I’d better get out of there in case they returned for another round. After struggling to my feet, I realized I couldn’t ride the bike because of my injuries, so I just put the text book in the basket, and pushed it back to the house.
Time hadn’t quite yet returned to normal speed as I trudged back to the house. I remember the looks on the faces of the drivers who stopped for me as I crossed in the crosswalk. At that point I still had no idea what I looked like. All I knew was that I couldn’t risk my parents finding out that I had Been At The School When School Was Over. Because I just desperately didn’t want to get in trouble. I decided while walking that I would swear Ann and Dana to secrecy about the matter.
Letting the bike fall in the yard, I walked into the house to hear Dana call out, “took you long enough”. Then they looked up and saw me.
It doesn’t take much to make a thirteen year old girl freak out. Dana’s face was a portrait of shock, wonder, and probably a little bit of guilt, as she realized that I hadn’t wanted to go, but had done it at her insistence. Ann just looked horrified.
“What happened?” they demanded in unison.
“I got beat up” I said through my tears.
“By who?”
As the details of the experience tumbled out, I tried to get them to swear that they wouldn’t tell my parents. But Ann wasn’t having any of it. “You have to tell them”, she informed me.
“NO!” I told her. “I’ll just get in more trouble.”
“Then I’m going to tell my mom” she said. “Cause you can’t walk home like this, and besides, the second you do, your parents will know any way.” She pointed me towards a mirror.
My face! It was completely messed. Granted the crying hadn’t improved matters. But there was a shiner forming and several bruises and cuts. My nose had stopped bleeding, but even after washing the blood off I realized Ann was right. There was no way to hide the situation. My parents would find out.
This awareness added a whole new level of anxiety to the situation, but there was nothing else to be done. Ann called her mom and told her the scoop. Her mom then called my parents. Shortly thereafter, my parents arrived at Dana’s house to pick me up. After rehearsing the story for them, they decided to call the police.
A police officer arrived and questioned me. Then the officer and my parents and I drove me over to Lisa’s house in his squad car.
I can’t imagine that any parent relishes seeing a police car pull up in their driveway. Lisa's door opened slowly at our knock, and the timid woman I hadn’t seen since more innocent times stood there nervously.
Even though it had been a couple years since I’d played at their house, she still remembered me. She was a meek woman, and after hearing the situation I could tell that she felt really bad, but also relieved that it wasn’t her daughter who’d kicked my can.
“Lisa’s been hanging out with some pretty rough kids lately” she confided with worry in her voice. "I don't really know what to do with her."
“Do you know who this ‘Tari’ girl might be?” the officer asked.
Thankfully she at least knew a last name, which the officer called in to look up.
After getting an address, we drove to the apartment that Tari lived in with her dad and step-brother. They were both home when we got there, but hadn’t seen Tari in a few hours. Thankfully the officer did the talking…which was a relief for me. He gathered the information he needed, and then drove us home.
I was dreading the moment when I would finally be left alone with my parents. After all, I had Gone To The School When School Is Over. Surely there would be wrath.
But I was mistaken. Perhaps they figured I’d been punished enough. Perhaps it was just the Lord’s tender mercy. But they didn’t meet out any further consequences beyond a simple “we warned you.”
What are the odds that the first time I set foot on the school campus something like this would happen? Probably not too high. The incident has made me wonder how different our lives would be if we all paid a heavy price the very first time we disobeyed, instead of getting away with things till we're past feeling bad about them. It was a painful lesson to learn, but at least I learned it. Never again did I go to the school after hours.
Post Script:
It turned out that Tari was 18 years old at the time, and therefore was arrested and charged as an adult with assault, battery, and attempted theft.
I have no memories of Lisa after that day. Needless-to-say, we never played after school again.
Though I was completely naive about everything to do with drugs at that time, looking back I’m pretty convinced that Tari, and possibly Lisa, were probably high on something when this happened. I hope their lives have turned around!
* name has been changed
Monday, June 2, 2008
"Wilbur"
“This is just a taste of what's waiting for you after school”, she said with a menacing voice, before slapping me across the face harder than I’d ever been struck in my life. Then she simply turned and walked away.
It happened so fast that the whole incident was nearly over before I realized what was going on. I'd staggered and dropped a few papers and books, but had managed to stay on my feet. Barely.
Class had just gotten out, and we were in the crowded hallway of our portable classroom trailer, which had been set up to relieve over crowding at our junior high school. Even though it was a wide-body, there crush of people during passing period made it difficult to move freely. The incident brought out the typical cat calls and excitement you’d expect from teenage kids.
I fled the scene, embarrassed, dazed and hurt. Who was she? Why did she slap me? Is she really going to beat me up later?
Stopping in the girls bathroom on the way to my next class, I glanced in the mirror to discover a red hand print across my left cheek. There were actual finger imprints on my face! I knew two things at that moment: First, I was terrified of after school, and second, I really didn’t want to cry. Having a slap mark was bad enough. The blotchy red eyes that are the hallmark of my face whenever I cry would be too much.
Thankfully my next class was off campus, giving me time to calm down before facing anyone. The elementary school next door provided an opportunity for junior high students to be a “teacher’s aid” during an elective period. I had been assigned to the kindergarten class, and adored all the sweet little kids. My youngest sibling happened to be in the class too, which was kind of special.
If the kindergarten teacher noticed anything amiss she didn't say anything, and of course the kids didn’t. I welcomed the distraction they provided, and tried to focus on them while correcting papers and helping them work on their art projects that day. My time as a teacher’s aid was a daily reprieve from the stresses of junior high, but all too soon it was time to return to my hellish reality next door.
Walking slowly back to the middle school, I thought about the situation. I had seen the girl before, but we'd never spoken. With just over a thousand students at the school, most people's faces were at least familiar. She was considerably bigger than me. Quite tall, with fair skin and lots of bright red hair. She was also a little on the heavy side, and I’d heard other kids call her Wilbur...obviously referencing the pig in Charlotte's Web. But that was my grandpa’s name, and not a term I thought of as derogatory. Besides, I wasn’t the kind of kid to call others names or pick on them. Especially tough kids…and this girl definitely had a tough demeanor.
My afternoon classes passed without incident. I didn’t even hear chatter about it from anyone, which kind of surprised me. Perhaps it was over. Maybe she’d dropped it. Whatever “it” was.
My last class was math with Mr. Battey. John Battey had been my math teacher for three years, despite the fact that he and I didn’t exactly mesh well. I’d begged my parents to make the school give me a different teacher after 6th grade, but nothing changed. After 7th grade things were no better, and here I was in 8th grade, stuck with him yet again. With each successive year, my comprehension of and facility with math decreased. To this day it has never quite recovered.
That day though, I lingered after class was over. I don’t know why, after 3 years with this teacher, I wasn’t able to ask for some help. Some protection. Some adult company. He just wasn’t the kind of teacher you could go to in times of need. So I lingered, feigning work on a problem as he wrapped up his day, and then dragging my heels as I put my papers and books together and packed up to go home. She’s probably already gone, I told myself eyeing the clock. Maybe she’ll think I went home early and she missed me.
Hope springs eternal.
Trying not to seem obvious about it, I shadowed my teacher as he locked up the room, hoping he’d head in the direction of my locker, which was on the way to the office. Alas, he didn’t, but the school was looking pretty deserted.
Optimism peaked.
I rounded the corner hesitantly. There was my locker, and no “Wilbur” in sight! In fact, my locker was a straight shot to the Vice Principal’s office with it's dark, tinted windows facing me. It was a mere 50 feet away. Surly I was safe.
With the coast clear, I quickly headed over to unload books and grab my homework assignments for the night.
It surprised me then, and still does, that she managed to catch me off guard. I never heard a thing. Where was my sixth sense? To say nothing of my street smarts!
As my face slammed into my combination lock, the pain erased my ability to think rationally. She grabbed me, wheeled me around to face her and started throwing punches right and left, at my face, stomach, chest.
I was not a fighter. Even if I’d known anything about fighting or self-defense (I didn’t), and even if I could have hurt her, I was not a fighter. In my mind, if I hit her, that would mean I was fighting. And if I was fighting, then I could get in trouble. I was a kid who avoided trouble at all costs.
So since I couldn’t hit her or get away from her, I did the only thing I could think of in that moment: I grabbed two fistfuls of her bright red hair, and lifted my feet off the ground. Hanging from her hair with my entire body weight actually got her attention. It also put me close enough to her body that it was harder to hit the front of me…which was hurting pretty bad at that point.
“Let go of my hair or I’ll kill you!”, she shrieked. And again, because I was completely ill-versed in how these things work, I obeyed her. Also because by then I felt like I was about to throw up, and I was terrified of what she would do to me if I barfed on her.
Thankfully I didn’t find out, because finally an adult noticed the commotion and came to my rescue. A good sized crowd had gathered around and were all in a frenzy over the “cat fight” (though a more accurate description would be a cat and mouse fight).
When the dust settled, my eye was swollen shut with a bright, puffy purple shiner and there were some cuts from getting my face slammed into the locker, but I didn’t have any serious injuries. I also never saw “Wilbur” again. Because of this and prior offenses, she was expelled and sent to a different school. A part of me has always felt bad for her. What kind of life must she have been having that she could do something like that?
I never found out why me? There just wasn’t any explanation for the incident. Why a perfect stranger would beat me up didn’t make sense, even though this was the second time it had happened to me (sometime I’ll have to write about the 7th grade beating).
It was experiences like this that were behind my daily petition to God throughout Junior High, “Please let me die in my sleep tonight.” This seemed like a perfectly reasonable request for someone like me to have. At least till the day I read a statement by Camilla Kimball, which said something to the effect of “Our lives are the greatest blessing we’ve received from our Heavenly Father, and we should cherish every day that we are blessed with.”
It’s an obvious thing, of course. But to my 13 year old mind, it was life-changing, and clearly I was meant to hear it. No one knew of my nightly petition, but I immediately stopped praying to die (peacefully, please!) in my sleep, and started praying for an improvement in the conditions in my life. And though the situation with my peers never really improved, my ability to cope with it did.
Sometimes the Lord calms the storm, and sometimes He calms His child. In my life it has almost always been the latter, but that has made all the difference.
It happened so fast that the whole incident was nearly over before I realized what was going on. I'd staggered and dropped a few papers and books, but had managed to stay on my feet. Barely.
Class had just gotten out, and we were in the crowded hallway of our portable classroom trailer, which had been set up to relieve over crowding at our junior high school. Even though it was a wide-body, there crush of people during passing period made it difficult to move freely. The incident brought out the typical cat calls and excitement you’d expect from teenage kids.
I fled the scene, embarrassed, dazed and hurt. Who was she? Why did she slap me? Is she really going to beat me up later?
Stopping in the girls bathroom on the way to my next class, I glanced in the mirror to discover a red hand print across my left cheek. There were actual finger imprints on my face! I knew two things at that moment: First, I was terrified of after school, and second, I really didn’t want to cry. Having a slap mark was bad enough. The blotchy red eyes that are the hallmark of my face whenever I cry would be too much.
Thankfully my next class was off campus, giving me time to calm down before facing anyone. The elementary school next door provided an opportunity for junior high students to be a “teacher’s aid” during an elective period. I had been assigned to the kindergarten class, and adored all the sweet little kids. My youngest sibling happened to be in the class too, which was kind of special.
If the kindergarten teacher noticed anything amiss she didn't say anything, and of course the kids didn’t. I welcomed the distraction they provided, and tried to focus on them while correcting papers and helping them work on their art projects that day. My time as a teacher’s aid was a daily reprieve from the stresses of junior high, but all too soon it was time to return to my hellish reality next door.
Walking slowly back to the middle school, I thought about the situation. I had seen the girl before, but we'd never spoken. With just over a thousand students at the school, most people's faces were at least familiar. She was considerably bigger than me. Quite tall, with fair skin and lots of bright red hair. She was also a little on the heavy side, and I’d heard other kids call her Wilbur...obviously referencing the pig in Charlotte's Web. But that was my grandpa’s name, and not a term I thought of as derogatory. Besides, I wasn’t the kind of kid to call others names or pick on them. Especially tough kids…and this girl definitely had a tough demeanor.
My afternoon classes passed without incident. I didn’t even hear chatter about it from anyone, which kind of surprised me. Perhaps it was over. Maybe she’d dropped it. Whatever “it” was.
My last class was math with Mr. Battey. John Battey had been my math teacher for three years, despite the fact that he and I didn’t exactly mesh well. I’d begged my parents to make the school give me a different teacher after 6th grade, but nothing changed. After 7th grade things were no better, and here I was in 8th grade, stuck with him yet again. With each successive year, my comprehension of and facility with math decreased. To this day it has never quite recovered.
That day though, I lingered after class was over. I don’t know why, after 3 years with this teacher, I wasn’t able to ask for some help. Some protection. Some adult company. He just wasn’t the kind of teacher you could go to in times of need. So I lingered, feigning work on a problem as he wrapped up his day, and then dragging my heels as I put my papers and books together and packed up to go home. She’s probably already gone, I told myself eyeing the clock. Maybe she’ll think I went home early and she missed me.
Hope springs eternal.
Trying not to seem obvious about it, I shadowed my teacher as he locked up the room, hoping he’d head in the direction of my locker, which was on the way to the office. Alas, he didn’t, but the school was looking pretty deserted.
Optimism peaked.
I rounded the corner hesitantly. There was my locker, and no “Wilbur” in sight! In fact, my locker was a straight shot to the Vice Principal’s office with it's dark, tinted windows facing me. It was a mere 50 feet away. Surly I was safe.
With the coast clear, I quickly headed over to unload books and grab my homework assignments for the night.
It surprised me then, and still does, that she managed to catch me off guard. I never heard a thing. Where was my sixth sense? To say nothing of my street smarts!
As my face slammed into my combination lock, the pain erased my ability to think rationally. She grabbed me, wheeled me around to face her and started throwing punches right and left, at my face, stomach, chest.
I was not a fighter. Even if I’d known anything about fighting or self-defense (I didn’t), and even if I could have hurt her, I was not a fighter. In my mind, if I hit her, that would mean I was fighting. And if I was fighting, then I could get in trouble. I was a kid who avoided trouble at all costs.
So since I couldn’t hit her or get away from her, I did the only thing I could think of in that moment: I grabbed two fistfuls of her bright red hair, and lifted my feet off the ground. Hanging from her hair with my entire body weight actually got her attention. It also put me close enough to her body that it was harder to hit the front of me…which was hurting pretty bad at that point.
“Let go of my hair or I’ll kill you!”, she shrieked. And again, because I was completely ill-versed in how these things work, I obeyed her. Also because by then I felt like I was about to throw up, and I was terrified of what she would do to me if I barfed on her.
Thankfully I didn’t find out, because finally an adult noticed the commotion and came to my rescue. A good sized crowd had gathered around and were all in a frenzy over the “cat fight” (though a more accurate description would be a cat and mouse fight).
When the dust settled, my eye was swollen shut with a bright, puffy purple shiner and there were some cuts from getting my face slammed into the locker, but I didn’t have any serious injuries. I also never saw “Wilbur” again. Because of this and prior offenses, she was expelled and sent to a different school. A part of me has always felt bad for her. What kind of life must she have been having that she could do something like that?
I never found out why me? There just wasn’t any explanation for the incident. Why a perfect stranger would beat me up didn’t make sense, even though this was the second time it had happened to me (
It was experiences like this that were behind my daily petition to God throughout Junior High, “Please let me die in my sleep tonight.” This seemed like a perfectly reasonable request for someone like me to have. At least till the day I read a statement by Camilla Kimball, which said something to the effect of “Our lives are the greatest blessing we’ve received from our Heavenly Father, and we should cherish every day that we are blessed with.”
It’s an obvious thing, of course. But to my 13 year old mind, it was life-changing, and clearly I was meant to hear it. No one knew of my nightly petition, but I immediately stopped praying to die (peacefully, please!) in my sleep, and started praying for an improvement in the conditions in my life. And though the situation with my peers never really improved, my ability to cope with it did.
Sometimes the Lord calms the storm, and sometimes He calms His child. In my life it has almost always been the latter, but that has made all the difference.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)