it opened

Going off of the last post....I knocked; the door opened.

I have been so extremely stressed about the goings on at my school lately.  Even if I try to avoid it, my body knows what is happening and the knots in my back and neck and shoulders give it away.

I met the whole "reconstitution" issue with a rather neutral frame of mind.  No real feeling one way or the other.  And then mixed feelings.  Almost immediately after it passed, our principal began drafting her new "team"...meeting with the teachers she would like to stay.  Many of them are choosing to leave in spite of her offer. Thursday and Friday passed with no contact from her (and so have the first 3 days of this week).  Monday she was out (interviewing our replacements at a job fair).

Monday, after speaking to my sister-in-law the night before, I had posted the St. Michael prayer as my Facebook status.  St. Michael and I are pretty good friends - he has gotten me through some tough times before.  On Tuesday, I woke up like any other day.  I went to Mass at the church near my school.  The first reading caught my attention.  It was from the Acts of the Apostles and spoke of the good that was accomplished by those who were scattered as a result of persecution.  I know they weren't talking about middle school teachers, but that just stuck with me.   The people at my school have always been a family, and now we are being scattered to the four winds.

They have adoration after Mass on Tuesday, so I stayed for a few minutes, wrote a few questions in my journal about it, asked for guidance and the openness to know His plan.  I thought about my integrity as a person and how much I am willing to put up with.  A flash of the staff member that gave me so many problems a few years back had also visited me in a dream the previous week.  (I'm not much for putting a lot of stock in my dreams, and I seldom even remember them, but that seemed to remind me that her return to our workplace was a possibility.)

I arrived at school and ran across one of my friends on the sidewalk.  I followed her to her room, and we chatted about 8th grade math and her plans for next year (she is leaving).  Nothing dramatic.

I do not know what happened. But by the time I went on lunch duty, I heard the words "I'm not coming back here next year" coming out of my mouth.  I don't know where they came from.  I've been at this school forever - I've taught the parents and aunts and uncles of the kids I teach now.  I have always joked that I would die or retire there.  Lately with the stress - dying seems the more likely option.  (An assistant principal and another teacher left last week on medical leave.)

As I drove home Tuesday afternoon, I noted that the stress in my shoulders and neck was gone!!  That was confirmation enough for me that the decision was the right one.  Where will I be next year?  Not a clue.  What will I be teaching next year?  I don't know.  But I do know that God has a plan, and it is better than mine.  Will it be some piece of cake dream job?  Probably not.  But there will be a reason why I am where I am.

I didn't really need any more confirmation.  But the next morning at Mass with my own good priest, I sat in amazement.  In his homily, he detailed the very process that I had walked through the day before when we "hear" God.  The "seed" planted in liturgy;  the prayer and discernment; the conversation with others; the fact that it seldom comes in a huge booming voice, but often a quiet whisper.  He likened it to the process of how the politicking that went on before the pope was chosen...the Holy Spirit moves in ordinary things.  It wasn't a particularly memorable homily, but it was a WOW! moment for me.

And if I needed any further thumbs up, the fight that I broke up between 2 brawling 13-year-olds in the middle of 3rd hour math class did it.  I maneuvered one - the one who was 'losing' -  outside of the classroom while the other teacher called the office for assistance and kept the other kid inside the classroom.  The kid I had in my grasp broke away and stood outside banging and kicking and screaming at the locked classroom door.  There's the door thing again!  After our campus cop and an assistant principal arrived to take them away, the other teacher looked at me and asked, "reconsidering your decision yet?"

So my focus for the next couple of weeks is to finish the never-ending paperwork, as much as it can be finished and then to sort and pack.  My prayer is to know the right job when it appears on my radar.

The only other person who has been at my school longer than me is our 80-something year old clerk in the front office.  I whispered my decision to her yesterday.  Today, I found a fortune cookie sized slip of paper from her in my box.  It made my heart smile.

 True words.  He makes all things new.

Editing to Add:  The disappearance of the horrendous stress that was weighing down on me has been signal enough for me that the decision is the right one.  Everything else on my plate has remained....but the stress has not returned.

Last Monday, I signed the paper to make my decision official.  I did this as a humongous cockroach inched across the ceiling in the school library.  I said that I would like to be "displaced".  I will be placed somewhere else in the system.  On Tuesday, as I sat at the same church where the seed had been planted a few weeks earlier, the theme of the priest's homily went along with the Gospel "sometimes it is better not to stay."   I could have hugged him.  As a matter of fact, I did, after Mass.  

And one more...because the confirmations keep coming.  On Monday, I was spending a few quiet moments in the church by my school (same church) before school.  I was looking in my "Courage to Change" book from AlAnon for readings about some other issues (there is a reading for each day, but an index of topics in the back), and I figured I would start with that day's reading.  What should I find, but this?

COURAGE TO CHANGE
I find it much easier to risk making decisions when I stop thinking about suffering the consequences and remember that I have the option to enjoy the consequences. Since coming to Al-Anon, I make my choices my conscientiously. I do whatever footwork seems appropriate and then turn the results over to God. The results are often quite favorable. Even when they aren't, I can still celebrate the fact that I have done my part.

For a long time, I avoided decisions because I was sure that there was some magical "right" choice that would get me what I wanted, yet I never seemed to know which choice that was. I waited until the last minute to decide and never felt good about my choices. Today I know that choosing not to decide is to decide.

It can be very liberating to make a decision. Once the choice is made, I can trust that the consequences will unfold as they should. With a slight change of attitude, perhaps I can await them with excitement and hope instead of fear and dread.

I have to think that my recent acquaintance with this group - though I have not been on a regular basis - has given me the courage to at least make this change in my life.

God is good!

doors

It seems that doors have been slipping in and out of my thoughts of late.  Kind of random, I know.

Last Saturday, as I quietly entered the adoration chapel, I took note of the door.  A keypad on the outside.  Then carefully, slowly, closing the door behind me as I entered, so as not to disturb the others.

It reminded me of the way I enter the confessional, minus the keypad.  Stepping inside and quietly closing the door behind myself.  And in both cases, it is Jesus who waits on the other side of the door.   In the Chapel in the Eucharistic Presence.  In the confessional, in Persona Christi –  in the person of Christ present through the priest who offers counsel, mercy, absolution.  Grace and peace available in both places – overflowing grace and mercy and peace.

During the Triduum and sometimes during Communion at Mass, I am struck by the open tabernacle.  It was about the doors again.  During the Triduum, the Tabernacle is open, empty.  When Mass begins on Holy Thursday, the Tabernacle is empty.  After the Eucharistic procession, the Blessed Sacrament is placed in the Tabernacle during Adoration, but the end of the appointed time, it is removed, and again the Tabernacle is vacant.  There is a feeling that all is not quite right in the world.  On Good Friday and on into the Easter Vigil, the Tabernacle is empty and its emptiness in there for all to behold.  When finally, at the end of the Easter Vigil Celebration, the Eucharist is placed in the Tabernacle, and the door is closed, there is a sense that order has returned to the world.  During Communion last week, it occurred to me that the empty Tabernacle is rather like the empty tomb.  Jesus is among us.

The weekend after Easter, the Gospel is the one for Divine Mercy Sunday.  The one where the  Apostles are gathered behind locked doors.  My priest chose to concentrate on the "locked doors" for his homily.  We all hide behind "locked doors" of some kind.  Whether its a locked door of impatience, unforgiveness, fear, addiction, anxiety, etc.  God is with us - as he was with the Apostles - behind the locked doors.  Later that afternoon, I emailed my pastor about the possibility of blessing the Eagle project detailed in the previous post.  He knows my struggles and my situation well, and I signed my email with something along the lines of  "unlocking doors, one deadbolt at a time".  He replied that he would indeed bless the project and that I could "start with the hinges if the lock was very difficult to turn".  This made me smile, and I thought for a minute, that maybe he was talking about someone else in my life who is very difficult, but then I realized that I don't have the keys to that person's locks.  It must be my own hinges that I need to start with.

There is a door that I often stand in front of.  It is the door to the tabernacle at a church near where I currently work.  There are images of wheat there.  The Bread of Life within.  Me, just a grain of wheat.

Sometimes, when no one else is in the church, I feel myself drawn to the Tabernacle.  I kneel in front and try to open myself to the graces He has to give.  Sometimes my prayer is, "Lord, fill me."  So much strength and peace comes from those quiet moments.  When school is out, and I am no longer in that area on a daily basis, I miss these minutes very much.

I began this post a week or so ago, and tonight another door image floated into my consciousness.  It has been a very difficult year at work.  We changed principals at midterm and our new principal proposed that she be allowed to "reconstitute" the school.  Last night her proposal was approved by the school board. This means that all staff must reapply for their jobs.  Most are seeing it as an opportunity to leave.  I am viewing it with mixed emotions.  I have been at this school for half of my life.  The friendships I have made there will endure, I think.  People have come and gone, but we have always been a family.  There is the feeling that the door on this chapter of my life is clanging shut a little sooner than I would have liked.  I have 3.5 years to retirement.  But, I have confidence that God will put me where I need to be.  When one door closes, another tends to open.

Knock, and the door shall be opened.

the path to eagle

There was a time, not too long ago, where my response to some event would be "oh, I can blog about that." But so rarely now does that happen.

Holy Week and the celebration of the Triduum awakened some of that.  It is so full of imagery and just good "stuff".  

Another stepping stone occurred this weekend, too, that I would wish to document (and which the teen subject would probably be OK with).

It's been a long process to get to this point, but his Eagle project was completed this weekend.  Other things remain before he can submit his application, but the project is DONE! 

Planning began in earnest about a year ago.  He had seen a stepping stone Rosary and when the time was right he approached the principal at the school he attended for grades K-8 about doing such a project for the school.  They were willing, and so he began work on a proposal, submitted it for all of the signatures and had it approved last summer.  At some point, we were told that there were other plans for the area that he wanted to use for the project, and they were unable to find another suitable chunk of real estate.  They suggested painting a Rosary under a covered area that they have.  Since this was a major change in the project, he was required to do another proposal and submit it.  This happened during the fall.

Then wrestling season began.  If you have wrestlers, you know that nothing else happens during wrestling season (November - February, more or less).  Then he got a job.  I have been forbidden to post that picture on the internet.

A few weekends ago, we bought the supplies.  Last week we were out of school, but the "project beneficiary" was not until Friday, so we (he) made final plans and decided the project would take place on Friday and Saturday.

Friday morning, a small crew - his brother and a good friend - prepared the surface..

 And then they waited...and waited.  We made a run to WalMart for donuts and cookies.  And waited.  Finally, they decided it was "dry enough" and began to lay out the pattern, tracing each bead with chalk.

This process took quite a while, because you know that even though it had been carefully measured and drawn, things did not fit exactly.  So there were changes and decisions to be made along the way.

 Finally, it was time for a trial run with the paint...

They mixed in some gold paint sprinkles...thinking that a little glitter would be a cool thing.  That was pretty much a fail.  Even though we used more than it called for, there was no sparkly glitter effect when we finished.

They painted the "Our Father" beads, and that was a learning experience.  The first one had paint that had oozed under then stencil and then they got paint on the asphalt when they put the stencil down after peeling it off of the circle.  But, they figured out how to fix both of these problems. They cleaned up and went home.

Saturday morning a larger crew showed up.  He had worried about having too many "little kids" that would be careless with a paint roller, but in the end the six that showed up, were perfect.  It was amazing how much debris collected on the covered surface overnight.

I love the picture below - of my Eagle-to-be giving instructions.

Then, working in pairs of one older and one younger, the painting commenced.  It went perfectly.  No drips, no spill, no runs...

What to put as the "connector" on the Rosary had been a problem that he needed to figure out.  In the end, he chose the school logo and made the stencil himself.

For the Cross, he just elected to free-hand it with the roller, and again, it worked quite well.

 A Scout is clean, you know....and paint is messy, so here is the clean-up.

I love this picture, here, too, where he seems to be offering it up to the good God.  Actually, he was looking at the paint he'd gotten all over his hands after taking off one of the paint rollers...

And a final picture of the crew, with the project.  

He is so proud.  Just now, he saw me looking at the pictures to put on here, and he had to stop and look through them again.  "Yeah, I did that," he said.  "Mom, do you think we could go by there tomorrow....just to get another good look at it with it all dry?"

meet cancelled

I'm still here.  But I think I've lost my blogging voice.  But then there was yesterday.

My boys are participating in wrestling at their high school.  Yesterday was to be their last meet before the State Meet in about 10 days.  On days that they have a meet after school, they stay at school to practice and go in the short bus to the school hosting.  On those days, I don't have to pick them up at school, so I look forward to a little extra time to wrap up loose ends at school.

Yesterday, though, I got a phone call from one of the other wrestling parents as my school day was ending.  One of the coaches had collapsed during practice, she said.  The paramedics were there and working on him.  It didn't sound good, so I assured here I would be there just as soon as I got things squared away at school.  I was on my way when she called to tell me that he had passed away.

I had gotten a single text from one of my sons:  "Meet cancelled.  Come get us."

When I arrived at their school, the ambulance was still there.  There were dozens of kids milling around on the sidewalk outside the gym.  My two and one of their teammates came to my vehicle, wordlessly opened the doors and dissolved into tears.  Three teenage boys sobbing is not pretty.  Who do you hug first?  I parked in the parking lot, and the mom of my extra child showed up shortly.

Death can be so sudden.  This man was my age.  Graduated the same year as me.  Was in decent enough shape.  Had a daughter in one of my sons' classes.  "Hug with two arms," was the advice that one of my co-workers passed along from a funeral that she had been to the day before.

We headed home.  "Church or home?" I asked.  "Church," one said.  So we stopped off at the church by my school and in the rainy evening darkness we knelt and prayed.  I know I prayed for wisdom to know what to tell them and how to comfort them, as well as praying for this man and his family.

One minute he had been wrestling with a group of kids.  The next minute, he was unconscious.  The kids were present until the ambulance arrived.  I've not seen someone dying, but my children have. "Coach (the other one) was crying," they said.

Lord, give peace and comfort all those whose lives were touched by Coach Greg - his family, his friends, the youth that he gave his time to.

catching up

Do you ever really catch up?  This is more like the once a month reader's digest summary.

Life has been wild.  I started a post before Thanksgiving entitled "ch-ch-ch-changes."

It has been really roller-coastery.  The most glaring change has probably been school.  We heard the Saturday before Thanksgiving, that we would have a new principal beginning in early December.  Not really a new one...she retired from our school about 6 years ago.  But then things were said at a school board meeting, and the position had to be advertised, interviews, blah, blah, blah.  She's coming.  She's not coming.  They offered her the job.  She accepted.  The position is being reopened.  Never mind.  It has been four or five weeks of that kind of uncertainty.  Our current principal hanging in there,, not really sure of where he was going or when his last day would be.  But a week ago - the day before the Christmas break began - it became official.  We said good-bye to one and hello to the new old one.  Almost anything is better than the never-ending roller coaster.

I made a slight change of my own.  I ordered a pink box.

It came in the mail the week of Thanksgiving and promised "endless possibilities" and "boundless opportunity", and that sounded really good.

 
And so I began life as an independent Thirty-One consultant.  My first thought was "what were you thinking", but it's not been bad.  I have a few "whys".  The extra money is a draw.  The chance to buy the products at a reduced price.  The chance to get out of the house.  I think even the craziness at school contributed to my decision to embrace more craziness.  I have never had a school year this bad.

It is not the students.  It is not the people I work with.  It is the absolute craziness of the system, the absence of any meaningful discipline system, and the mind-blowing amount of paperwork and accountability they expect from us.  It is the fact that my pay will be based on the performance of hormonal adolescents (and to some degree hormonal observers.)  In 4 years, I will reach 30 years, which is my goal for retirement.  I must reach that.  Always I have figured that I would hit 30 years, perhaps do 3 years of Deferred Retirement (DROP), and then see how the spirit moved me.  Now my mantra is "4 more years, 4 more years."  I can't imagine going a day longer.

So, yeah, Thirty-One...where the motto is to Encourage, Reward, and Celebrate.  (Not necessarily in that order).  It sounded a lot better than Discourage, Antagonize, and Demoralize.  I have closed out two "parties".  Mostly random orders from friends that I combined, but enough to qualify for one of the December incentives, so that I got 4 items from the new Spring catalog free!  Of course there is an "Add-On Kit"  for spring that I would be crazy not to purchase....a great deal with new products.  So I guess what I made in commission will go right back to them?  Not sure when I will find time to host actual parties.  Perhaps in the summer.  Or when wrestling season is over.  Not sure where the hostesses will come from, either.  But one thing at a time.

Wrestling.  Practice most days after school.  We seldom arrive home in the daylight.  Meets every Wednesday night and nearly every Friday and/or Saturday.  It takes up a lot of time.  But both boys are participating, and doing alright. Our team, as a whole, loses more than it wins.   But my guys are enjoying, and it is fun to hear them talk about the moves and strategies.  It is such a boy sport.

Confirmation... that got overlooked in the scheme of things in November.  It took place the day after Cross Country ended and the day before Wrestling began.

My child, with his Godmother, and our good priest.  The Mass was simple and beautiful.  God takes a "yes", even a fearful or uncertain "yes" and does great things with it.

My sister-in-law grabbed the camera from me, and insisted that I get in the picture, too.  Sometimes Moms DO need to get in front of the camera.  Dear hubby was across the room...waiting patiently.

A picture of the bunch that has been together since first grade.  Most now go the the Catholic School, while a couple went the public school route, but it was always a tight-knit group. The boys were always outnumbered.  (Just for the record, my child DID have dress shoes on while he was in church.  Somehow he managed a quick change.)

Al-Anon...(how's that for a quick detour onto a totally different path)?  Went to my first meeting ever a few weeks ago.  No active drinking going on here, but surely some self-centered behavior that is difficult to deal with.  A lack of boundaries, for sure.  It has been on my radar for several months...so many of our Retrouvaille conversations seemed to end focused on alcoholism, and I realized how big of an influence some of those things were on our lives.  I wasn't sure if I'd fit, but I was assured that I would, and I did.  I couldn't relate to everything, but some of it, I certainly could.  I'll be going back.

Church decorating...one of my small pleasures during the Christmas season.  My oldest accompanied me this year.  It was he and I, one of my Scout-mom friends, and our priest.  We were a finely oiled machine this year.

The good Monsignor takes care of the sanctuary.

 
My teenager hauled things in and out of the attic, put up the wreathes that go under each Station of the Cross, and provided a critical (in a good way) eye of some of our experiments.  My friend and I hung wreathes on each side, put already-assembled arrangements in each window and fixed the banner and wreath across the choir loft in the back of the church.  Simple, but nice, is the theme.

Christmas...kind of dreaded it.  I've come to realize that for some reason, holidays are most often marked with drama in this family.  But, we survived.  No one - of any age - had any meltdowns this year!!  It was, however, the first time I can remember having tornado warnings during Christmas dinner.  All was well, though.

We celebrated Christmas Eve with dear hubby's family, but no photographic evidence exists.  ;-). Christmas Day found us at my sister's new house.

A casualty from the high winds -- the decorations on the front porch.

A group shot of our clan...four generations from ages 4 - 96. Missing are my sister-in-law who was taking the picture, and my brother and sister-in-law who live out of state.

Today, I celebrated my own birthday.  Both of my boys came with me to 6:30 Mass.  (It was because they had wrestling practice at 7:30 and didn't want to be late, but I'll take it for the gift that it was.)  Later, I had lunch with friends from school, as we bid our outgoing principal farewell.  And then I spent a quiet evening at home.  Not bad in the scheme of things!

And that, my friends, is that.  The high points, and maybe some of the low from the last month or so!

dispensation notwithstanding

I attended a conference in New Orleans this weekend.  About a month ago, when I knew that I would be there for today's Feast of the Immaculate Conception, I mentioned it to my priest.  I was riding with someone else, and I couldn't tell from Google Maps if there was a church within walking distance of our hotel.  Besides, I didn't know how the Mass schedule would mesh with the schedule for the conference.  He listened to me and then granted me a dispensation of the obligation, if it was not possible for me to attend.  So I really had no intention of going to Mass.

Yesterday evening, looking out of the window near the 14th floor elevator, I saw the stained glass windows of a church next to the hotel.  I wasn't sure it was operational or Catholic, though, and I wasn't really thinking along the lines of going to Mass.

This morning was a lazy one, but at 7 a.m., still sitting in bed, I heard church bells.  Perhaps I should investigate further, I thought.  So I opened the Maps App on my iPad and found out that the name of the church was....get this....Immaculate Conception.  Think someone is trying to get my attention?  So...I did a quick Google Search and found the website for the church, looked at the bulletin, and observed that there was an 8 a.m. Mass on Saturday.

So, even with a "Free Pass", the Good Lord was calling my name.  Drawing me to Him.  I told my co-worker roommate that I was going to 8 a.m. Mass.  The morning conference session started at 8:30, so I'd be a little late.

I inquired at the front desk, where exactly the church was...I'd seen it, but wasn't sure which direction to go from the front door.  "Go down to the corner and take a right."  I did, and as I walked, I could hear the bells,  but still was unsure exactly where the church was.  Then I looked up, and right there in front of me was an older African American lady holding the door open.  I smiled at her and entered.  I wasn't 50 steps from the front door of our hotel!

 

Absolutely gorgeous!!  I was SO distracted!

The abundant stained glass windows were beautiful!

This is the view of the rear of the church - the choir loft, perhaps.

The pulpit...it looks like a shell arching out over it.

A side altar.

A sample of the beautiful artwork and mosaics.

The pews.

Baptismal font.

A couple of the many statues.

All in all, I was glad that I didn't ignore that quiet but persistent voice.  What a treat to worship in such a beautiful space!