Discernment

 I mentioned in the last post that I have a new teaching position in the fall. I am going to attempt to juggle teaching at three schools - ESL at the Community Colleg, Comp and Lit at a local Lutheran university, and an adult ed Nature Writing course at my old school, which will be entirely remote, and probably asynchronous, so I'll mostly just be grading. Oh wait! I'm also still teaching in the military ed program online - a class starts in just over a hwe;! I likely will also pick up some substitute shifts at the kids' schools. And I volunteered for the parent-teacher organization. I also would like to continue going to my ecumenical Bible study on Thursday mornings, walk-jogging regularly, attending once a month book club, and then I'll be doing all normal the mom stuff: cooking (thankfully my husband does a lot, even most, of this), cleaning, carpooling, and cheering at various sporting and extracurricular things.  We've signed up to be Eucharistic ministers, once a month or so we boil eggs for the lunch truck for the homeless that our church helps sponsor, and I am thinking about volunteering for some other ministry or something community service minded. 

It's enough to fill more than one calendar. Why do I do this to myself? I fill up the hours because I'm not sure what I really want to be doing.  So here I am writing another post about discerning what to do in this next phase of life. I am in the last year of my 40s. We will only have two kids left at home, a junior in high school, and the 8 year old.  Not that the young adults in the family won't need love and attention -- I spend quite a bit of time on the telephone catching up with them most weekends. I'm a bit old for starting a new career, but too young to be retired, don't you think?  

If we had bought a farm, or at least a little more property, I think I could have thrown myself into focusing on planting and parenting, maybe sticking with the parttime teaching, maybe trying to write more.  But we didn't. So no more ifs. And I haven't used my time over this past year to write anything more than a research paper, blog posts, and scribbles in a diary. 

After I didn't get accepted into the PhD program at UT, which I was intimidated about anyway, I haven't been able to focus on any one thing, really. Substituting and working at the community college this past spring were supposed to help me discern whether I wanted to transition to full time teaching in high school or to adult education at the community college.  And on top of that, the pay is terrible for part time work. Teaching as an adjunct pays so little; substituting pays better. But although I enjoyed working in the kids' schools, and I enjoyed being in the classroom, working as a substitute has its drawbacks. Do I get certified to teach and work full time? Do I apply to another Ph.D. program? While I enjoyed both, I'm not sure the fit is just right. 

I can't even make an easy decision about chairs - new chairs or reupholster old chairs? I think I will reupholster the old ones, but I've spent hours looking at fabric and can't decide if I want to order greens or blues, solids or patterns, a velvety texture or a twill? 

All of this busyness, but I still feel restless. What it is I really want to do? Just get a paycheck? Although my husband is making more than ever, our expenses have kept pace - tuition, taxes, car issues, house issues, a/c bills when it is 100+ degrees every day for 6 weeks, traveling to see the older kids - oh, and we are being sued for the car accident our son had in February! Our insurance will take care of it, but not a happy moment to see the police pull up to the house and deliver a notice. All privileges come with burdens. That's another story, but one that is a part of this decision, in that when we moved here, we took on this huge mortgage and all of the house issues that came with it.  I've set aside berating myself for that decision for now, but perhaps a part of my restlessness is rooted in not wanting to settle here. 

And this is fruitless thing to ponder. We are here now, and we've decided we won't leave for a time, at least until our daughter graduates and/or the dream job/place opens up. 

So really this discernment is not really about what to do, but how to be, how to exist in a new space, without the crowd of children around me to give me purpose and direction about what to do next.  Filling up the calendar avoids the empty time and space for recollection and reflection. I seem to prefer doing than just being, but at some time I'll have to answer for who I am, who I've come to be through all this action. 

Anyway.  Here's something more cheerful: Joni Mitchell's surprise appearance at the Newport Folk Festival this past weekend. I've been drawn into looking at the videos from the weekend - an amazing line-up, topped up with Joni Mitchell's return to the stage after almost dying from a brain aneurysm five years ago.  Wouldn't it have been incredible to have been there? I need to add going to live music performances to my to-do list ... I'm only linking one video, but set aside some time - you could spend some hours listening to the set. 

Paul Simon and Rhiannon Giddens were probably amazing, too: 

Is she thinking about what she has to do next or just enjoying her cute children?

Summer Reading

 The eight year old and I entered the summer reading club at our library. It just ended - which seems early to me, but here we are at the end of July and all of the summer activities are winding down, even though we have three weeks of vacation left. Only!

Neither of us won a prize. Instead of cheap plastic toys and coupons for ice cream cones, the prizes were gift cards and educational sets. I earned something like 17 tickets and entered almost all of them in the drawing for the HEB $100 gift card, but didn't win. The 8 year old spread her tickets around, but mostly wanted to win a little robot that draws. She was pretty disappointed not to get a call from the library yesterday. She was sure she was going to win. She was motivated to log hours and write book reviews to earn more tickets, so the incentive worked, but we'll see if the crushing diappointment of winning nothing deters her from participating next year. She can be a bit dramatic in her responses to even very minor tragedies.

Despite winning nothing, we have done a bit of reading over the summer. I have spent much too much time pouring over the Wall Street Journal in the mornings. since we aren't rushing anywhere. Too much bad news about economic downturns and inflation. On our recent road trip, I read Joseph Bruchac's Rez Dogs, a young reader book about a young girl named Malian who is visiting her grandparents on a reservation and gets stuck with them when the world shuts down for Covid. A stray dog provides companionship and protection for her as she struggles with loneliness and internet connectivity and missing her parents. Bruchac is a writer I discovered when doing my research for the nature writing class. He has a number of young adult books out that primarily feature main characters who are Native Americans.  This is my first, and I give it two thumbs up. It may be a bit lacking in drama, but it provided a peak into a strong grandparent- grandchild relationship, a look at life on a reservation, and a small peek into some of the hardships experienced by young people growing up on a reservation 60 years ago. Both of Malian's grandparents were taken as children and sent to boarding schools. The book is written as narrative poetry, so it reads quickly. Despite the backdrop of suffering, the book had a hopeful tone - Malian's grandparents don't dwell on bitterness, and Malian is unusually appreciative of her circumstances. 

I also just finished a book for the lit class I'll be teaching next year: Home Fire by Kamila Shamsie. The department chooses a novel for the intro to lit courses, and this one is paired with Antigone, of which it is a retelling. I wasn't familiar with Shamsie, although she has a large number of novels to her name. Home Fire follows the plot of Sophocles' classic loosely, but places the two sisters in contemporary London, where their family immigrated from Pakistan. In this case, the two sisters are Muslim and must confront the actions of their brother and father, who both joined extremist organizations. Somehow the family survived the death of their father, but when their mother dies, the siblings struggle to stay unified. The oldest sister raises her two siblings, but eventually leaves to study in America, while the two younger siblings, twins, start to make their way separately after they graduate from high school. The sister pursues a degree, while the brother picks up a job, but falls into the grip of jihadist recruiters. Add in a love interest who happens to be the son of the home secretary who is monitoring the movements of the brother, and tragedy is sure to follow - and of course, knowing the source story, tragedy is expected.  An interesting and engaging read, with lots of themes overlapping, which is good for an assigned book. For a book I have to assign to first year students, it has an overly descriptive passage with a love scene that I probably won't discuss in class, but it's in there, and will probably keep students reading. 

I can't remember if I mentioned that I went on an Ann Patchett spree - This is the Story of a Happy Marriage and Commonwealth and some articles in between. Enjoyed both the memoir/book of essays, This is the Story, which I listened to as a book on tape on the trip to California in June, and the novel, which is a riff on Patchett's early life. Had I not just read Patchett's memoir, I might not have caught that. Commonwealth is the story of a broken marriage, the secrets children keep, family connections, and the possibility of reconciliation. A bit melancholy but a redemptive ending. Maybe kids whose parents are messed up end up closer because of their neglect.

After many weeks, I finished Peter Wohlleben's The Heartbeat of Trees, a companion to The Language of Trees.  I enjoyed them both, a mix of popular science, environmental writing, and personal memoir. Not fast reading, though. I'd read a chapter and then set the book down for several days before reading another. Wohllenben was a German forester who now devotes his time to writing and promoting good forestry practices, among other environmental pursuits. His writing voice is friendly, encouraging, and even hopeful, despite the degradation he sees of the natural world, For instance, one of the oldest trees in the world is threatened because of tourists hiking to its remote location to view it. On the one hand, it would be terrible if this tree died from people stamping around it to view the oldest tree. On the other hand, the reverence showed to this little alpine tree is encouraging. Wohlleben's own story of shifting  practices in German foresting is hopeful for future conservation efforts that allow commerce and conservation to complement each other to an extent. 

I also finished a book for my book club reading challenge called Tomorrow Will Be Different by Sarah MacBride. MacBride's memoir tells of her transition from male to female late in her college career, early in her political career. She is now a delegate to the Delaware state government, one of the first openly trans politicians to serve in that governing body, if not the first. The tone is upbeat, despite a section describing the death of Sarah's husband, who was also trans, from cancer not long after they married.  The reading challenge has several categories that are outside my normal reading trends, and this one was interesting, but not one I'd normally choose, partly because I don't really read political books, and this one read a bit like promotional material for the next election. 

I've also been reading my Bible study book, Encountering God by Kelly Minter, which describes different spiritual practices all familiar to Catholics - prayer, fasting, confession, adoration, meditation. I appreciate the immense number of Biblical references to these ancient practices, but the book is written for a reader who is unfamiliar or unused to these practices, so it's geared toward beginners and those who need convincing that fasting or confessing to others is worthwhile for spiritual growth.  The conversations have been enriching with my group, an ecumenical bunch I was introduced to by one of my Navy spouse friends. 

I've also been catching up with the newest Norton anthology of literature, shorter version. I'll be teaching an intro to lit class this fall. New school, new textbook, new syllabus. Thought I would be further along with developing that than I am, but classes don't start until the end of August - which will come all too quickly.

Reading with the 8 year old: My Father's Dragon, Dragons of Blueland, Pippi Longstocking, and various picture books from the library. This suburban library doesn't have the quaint appeal, the quantity of books, or the familiar librarians from our old library, but we are getting used to it. It's not a four block walk, either, but this month we have been going about once a week, since our schedule is more open. 

In the meantime, I've got a stack of books to read that are waiting for me. I thought I would get more reading done on our recent trip to OKC, but instead shopped upholstery fabric, chairs, flights, and hotels for upcoming travels. More to come!

Still remembering

 Continuing the theme of memory, I had a dream last night that has stuck with me all day.  I don't remember the first part or the exact setting of the dream, but there was a threatening aspect to the situation. I was on a train with our second son, only he was a toddler, maybe 2 or 3. Old enough to talk, young enough to be held. At first we were playing some game where children were getting lost, so I grabbed my son and got on the train to go somewhere to rest and hide.  And he did rest - his little body relaxed into dreams. As I held his sleeping body, his face brightened into a smile. It was one of those sweet moments of total trust and relaxation when a baby knows he's safe with his mother, even though his mother knows she can't keep him completely safe.

In the dream, I knew I was dreaming, and I knew he was really grown up.  So even in the dream, I knew I should savor this moment, when I could love and hold him because he was small again. It was like I was able to time travel because I knew he would grow up fine, and I could hold him freely, almost with more love because I no longer worried about raising him. The dream was a gift; it was so realistic. It was a moment to forgive myself for the times I didn't sit down and hold my older babies without worry of what comes next. This may be what being a grandmother is like. 

I woke up slowly, relishing the feeling of his little boy body, the lightness and flexibility of his arms, the small of his head, the softness, etc.  And then I booked a trip to visit our son!

Saying Goodbye

A couple of nights ago, spears of lightning cancelled the swim team pool party, but not the pizza eating. They also cancelled my husband's flight home from North Carolina, where he had traveled for his uncle's funeral. A good thrumming thunderstorm dumped buckets of water, but it also prevented hundreds of travelers from returning home that night, including my husband.  But despite the travel interruption, attending the funeral was worthwhile and meaningful for him. 

This uncle, a professional piano tuner, teacher and lounge singer, sang at our wedding. He was jovial and talented, and played "Piano Man" not just at our reception, but ever since played it at every niece's and nephew's wedding. (Although, ours was the only one where he sang "Danny Boy" for my husband's grandmother.) Family gatherings found him on a bench in front of a keyboard, and he enlivened every event with his playing and singing - not just as a private concert, but as a way of leading the family in communal song together. His own sons remained unmarried and estranged from each other, a sad coda to the life of a well-loved man.

He was the first of eight siblings in my mother-law's family to pass away, even through the pandemic. There may likely be another funeral before one of the next generation gets married. In this uncle's obituary, his nieces and nephews were counted among his descendants, a testimony to the sense of kinship this uncle brought to everyone in the family. Our parent's generation kept those cousins close, but as they pass on, we will lose not only those loved ones, the organizers of family events, but the bonds between cousins will weaken as collateral. 

Now that he is gone, the family gatherings will be not just quieter, but also rarer.  Gatherings are just not as fun without the fun uncle. All of the siblings gathered for the funeral must have wondered who will be next?  Really it's miraculous they all have survived Covid. Their father died in his fifties of a heart attack. They all have surpassed him.

Now my husband and I are nearing that age. I have been feeling very mortal lately. Not just tired, but spent. I have another basal cell carcinoma - nothing to worry about, except another scar, another reminder to stay out of the sun, another reminder than my skin is wearing out, like the rest of my body.

It is not just the physical aspects of aging, but the saying good-bye. This month, our oldest daughter turns 20 and our fifth son turns 18. We'll only have two at home next year. After all these years of wondering when I might next have a quiet moment - well, now I'll have plenty. It's both exciting and terrifying. Now they are good company, good help, good people, but they are also excited to leave us behind. They are ready "to start their real lives" - a  phrase that I said to my parents in my horrible teenage years when they dropped me off for college.  My parents told them that story, and they love to tease me with it, as much as they actually mean it in some small corner of their hearts.

I still sometimes catch myself waiting for that real life to begin. For many years I felt like the real life would start when we settled down in a house of our own, or when the kids started school, even as I knew life was happening every hour. I catch myself planning the next thing before the present thing is over, partly out of necessity, partly out of habit, partly out of a desperate attempt to do it all. I was looking at photos for a graduation slide show and for our daughter's sixteenth birthday, and the quickness of time hit me again. I can't say I wasn't warned - the grandmas at the churches and parks and groceries all told me those days would go by fast. And so they did. They were full and happy for the most part, and the hard days we survived, and nothing makes me happier than listening to my big kids laugh about those times or commiserate together. 

And now some of the people who made those days memorable, like my husband's uncle, are slipping out of the world into the next, which is perhaps the real life after all. 

Heat Wave

 Well, I knew it was going to be hot here in Texas, but I didn't expect it to be 100 degrees every day for most of June. The neighbors keep telling me this heat is unusual for this time of year. Of course, now it is July and 100 degree temps are pretty common, so now I am no longer checking the weather app to see if it might cool down or rain in the near future. I figure the weather will be similar until mid September. 

The heat hasn't kept us from getting outside, however, Yesterday, to celebrate the Fourth we gathered with some friends from Guam. They now have several more children, and we have several fewer at home. The pool got a few hours of use, and the kids played a few games of cornhole. We took a break inside to eat, feasting on smoked meats, potato salad, cole slaw, beans, and fruit and brownies and sugar cookies, the usual picnic food, and then played pool, before heading outside just before sunset to light sparklers and set off a few noisemakers and fountains that my husband picked up at one of those roadside fireworks stands.  He was tempted to pick up some Texas-sized rockets, but held off, knowing full well how I'd feel about them. 

And of course, the city had plenty of big fireworks to mark the event. We walked down to the public high school to watch them so we didn't have to drive and fight traffic. This wasn't the best vantage point for viewing, but plenty of people had the same idea, including the Kona Ice guy, so we weren't alone in our search for simplicity.  

The city's fireworks were fine, but I have to admit, we couldn't help comparing it to the celebrations we experienced in Coronado, which were pretty spectacular. Our daughter was in tears after Mass Sunday when she learned that there would be no parade. And she was bored most of the morning while we were cooking and cleaning. I missed having family around, and my husband made the mistake of checking social media and reading about a protest of July Fourth festivities in response to the Dobbs decision.  The day just felt subdued compared to past celebrations. 

We may have still be recovering from the day before, when we celebrated the births of our two July babies. Our oldest daughter turned 20 on the third, but she is spending the rest of the summer in San Diego, so we had to settle for a phone call and being a part of her birthday party by giving her our credit card to buy a cake to share with her friends.  

Then that evening we were able to pull off a little surprise party for our son turning 18 next weekend.  Our middle daughter helped coordinate with friends, who came over and decorated while he was at the gym. The best ruse was one of the friends told our son that he couldn't go to the gym with him because he had to go to a "Celebration of life"!  That same friend gifted our son with his own Lego minifigure with extra long legs. Pretty cute. High schoolers are funny. 

But then I read this morning of the shooting at the Highland Park parade outside of Chicago. That neighborhood was not too far from where we used to live years ago in a town that also had a great Fourth of July parade.  I can't image the trauma.  Where does the violence end?

For consolation here are a few snapshots from our recent celebrations:

Scenes from the life of our July 3rd baby. 

A quick stop at the county park to look for minnows and turtles just for something to do while waiting for friends. 

Luxury sparklers. Stand back!

A new flag.

Pool time fun