A Special Thank You to Teachers Who Do This in December

In 2006, my daughter went to the world's greatest preschool in Ann Arbor, MI. It was FUMCN (First United Methodist Church Preschool Cooperative). The teacher, Ms. Juli, sent home surprise Christmas presents that year made from handprints and footprints of the children.

This one of a reindeer, made from my 4 year old's footprint as the body and her two handprints as the antlers, hangs on the kitchen wall every single December. And every single December, I get all misty eyed as I look at this smudged little reindeer.

And do you know what goes through my mind? I think about how Ms. Juli got all those children barefoot, placed a wriggling and uncooperative foot in brown paint, positioned it carefully on white felt, and then figured out how to get that foot all cleaned up in time for pick-up. Then I think of the containers of green and red paint, the glue, and the chaos of it all. I think of the pom-pom noses flying across the classroom and googly eyes that won't stay put.

I think of the parent volunteer who stitched the fabric and the other one who tied the green string for hanging. I think of the wrinkled and bunched up wrapping paper, encircled by an entire roll of tape, that I unwrapped that year.

Was it worth it, this mess?

Yes! Yes! Oh, teachers and volunteers, yes!

I wanted to thank that teacher from all those years ago. One day, a parent will hang up the old preschool Christmas gifts when her daughter is a teenager, and she'll cry her eyes out as she remembers. She'll place her own hand over those little handprints and whisper a prayer, not just for her own growing daughter, but also for teachers who leave these kind of marks.

Not My Finest Moment

Today I was temperamental. 

If you look this word up in your trusted dictionary, you'll find that it means moody, mercurial, erratic, unpredictable, and even peculiar. I like to think that I've mastered my own moods after all this time and effort, but really, I'm just terrible. I've been known to pout if my schedule changes, if I'm too cold, or if I don't get my way. You should see me in airports. You should see me when I'm tired. You should see me when I'm hungry. Goodness.

My husband gets the worst of it. He turns to me after one particularly mercurial situation in which I fumed over not getting my way, and he calmly says:

"Well, this hasn't been your finest moment."

I tell him that I'm honestly trying to be spirit-filled and full of joy like everyone else around me. I tell him that I'm just too sensitive and not like other people who can withstand all manner of discomforts. I wish I were stronger, but today was not my finest moment.

He doesn't seem so bothered by it all. He's moved on to blessing me by doing the dishes and folding some laundry. This is really happening right now on the very eve of my terrible pouting.

Sometimes, all you have to offer the world is your own broken down self, full of pouting and demands. It's the honest you, and you find you are still loved.

So if today was not your finest moment, you weren't alone. And we still love you.

Storm-Tossed

We return from visiting grandparents at the seashore. We've been told that this particular shore holds the most extraordinary collection of seashells. People come from all over the world to comb this beach for shells. Shelling at Sanibel Island is something we've looked forward to; however, this particular season, we're so disappointed.

Something's not right. The shells simply aren't there.

We discover from a local resident the reason for this season's emptiness:  

If you want extraordinary shells, you need a turbulent, stormy season. It hasn't been violent enough to churn up the shells and deliver them to the shore. Shells like the ones on Sanibel Island require some deep disturbances. It's just been too calm below the surface. 

I love the symbolism of it all and how, if you want a life to showcase the most beauty, it needs the most turbulent inner storms--those deep disturbances that churn up the rare and hidden treasures in our depths. 

The beautiful treasures hide inside, and it takes a storm to reveal them. So I ponder those moments in life that feel storm-tossed and unsettled. This kind of shaking gets to something authentic.