Sandy Hook Elementary School

         

          As I walked into Sandy Hook Elementary School for a chess tournament on April 8th, I saw a Ben’s Bell’s “Be Kind” mosaic.  It took my breath away!  I was moved to think about our “Be Kind” poster, which always affirms us as we walk back into our Classroom Community, to choose Kindness and Love in all that we do.  I was further reminded of this lesson on Good Friday.  I was driving back to New Canaan, and my mysterious, mystical GPS guided me through downtown Darien, of all places.  I was stopped at a red light, when I turned to my left and noticed a Good Friday procession making its way past.  The leader, toiling under the weight of a very heavy, wooden cross, was flanked by about 50 people from all walks of life.  I wondered what other burdens or crosses these modern-day disciples were bearing within the context of their everyday lives. 

          Thursday mornings in Newtown as I work the front door at St. Rose's, students and teachers walk in from outside carrying all sorts of burdens.  Sometimes, they are weighed down with books, bags and knapsacks.  Sometimes, the burdens aren’t so tangible.  I try to give each person a loving smile, crack a lame joke or offer to shoulder a load.  As people of Faith, we are called to be Light and Love to all of those we come in contact with on a daily basis;  some days it’s easier than others!   Someone once said, “Be kind-  Everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”  I thought deeply about all of this when I walked into Sandy Hook Elementary School on April 8^th.

New Canaan, Connecticut

There's No Place Like Home

     As we have moved around this great nation over our years as a family, we have been blessed to call a number of very different places "Home."  Let's be honest, these places were all beautiful in their own ways, and each locale has had its own set of blessings and challenges as we have answered our call.  

     This blog, like so many of my passions, has been neglected during the moving process because every moment of every day I get lost.  I get lost as I travel from our stunning new home of New Canaan, CT and drive 47 1/2 minutes to teach in the most resilient and faith-filled community of Newtown.  I get lost in despair when I long for my friends and family in Nebraska and across the Midwest.  I get lost as I sit in the back of a Bible Study group of 25, and this list goes on and on, but every now and then, the sun breaks through the clouds, and I see a glimpse of purpose.

    

  The other day, I had Luke and Leia outside.  Our new neighbors spotted me, let out a squeal and began climbing over the stone wall that divides our property in order to greet me.  "It is so nice to finally meet you," my new neighbor gushed.  "We are so happy to see life and light in the parsonage each night.  There was only darkness for so long.  Thank you."  Although I am sure that they were confused why this made me cry, I guess that's what we're all called to do in the places where God calls us to serve, right?  We are called to be Light and Love to others.  Miep Gies said it best in the film Freedom Writers, "...But even an ordinary secretary or a housewife or a teenager can, within their own small ways, turn on a small light in a dark room."  Welcome home. 

Trinity Heights, Sioux City, IA

A Pilgrimage

In Heaven...

The Ghost of a Memory

     My writing marathon has resurrected a ghost of a memory.  As I ascended the grand old opera house staircase in Lincoln, Nebraska this past weekend, I looked at my reflection in the antiquated mirror.  My reflection seemed to hover in the air, and it immediately transported me back in time to leave me wondering if this life really just is smoke and mirrors.  

     I remember when I was pregnant with Ian.  It was August and after a risky and painful bout of preterm labor, my doctor sent me to bed for two full weeks;  our moms arrived to our home in Middletown Springs, Vermont to care for baby Colin while Derrick continued to bring home the bacon.  Although it was fantastic to have our moms so close, each for a week at a time, I was frustrated about being confined to bed.  I was nervous if baby Ian would be born early, and if he was, would his lungs be prepared to meet this big, bad world.  Why was he so eager to embrace this world when I was being forced to cocoon him a bit longer?

     I remember on the fifteen day of my forced hybernation.  Our moms had returned to their homes the day before, and our small family of 3 and a half were once again on our own.  I awoke at 3:03 in the morning.  As I was lying on my left side staring in a calmly peaceful way across my sleeping husband, I noticed that there was a woman hovering next to his side of the bed.  She gazed down lovingly watching him sleep.  Her stiff white shirt collared her neck with ruffles, and her cats-eyed shaped glasses framed her warm and wistful gaze.  She never looked at me.  My gaze never left her, and there I lay watching her watch him.  When she dissipated into thin air, my peacefulness left me.  Abruptly, I flipped over my awkwardly pregnant body and raced into the nursery.  Colin slept soundly on his belly with his legs drawn up beneath him.  I covered him with the light blanket, but let my hand rest on his back for a few assuring breaths.  I returned to bed and my original position while waiting for my husband to awake at the predetermined time on his alarm clock. 

This is actually my great Aunt Ida...

     This was the first time that I saw a ghost.  A couple of times in my life now, usually when my heart is most anxious, I experience the presence of a loved one long since lost.  A few months later, while I nursed our little one in the colorful midnight hour of Christmas, this ghostly figure would return to me again.  Some people say that they don't believe in ghosts, or angels for that matter, and while my mysterious visitor could have been either, I believe because I have seen.