Searching for Stories

When I dreamed of having a cyber-space to call my own, I thought that I would write on my blog spot all the time. While I had a desk job and checked the internet hourly, I had all these great ideas (and time) to write...but I just never committed to the web. When I finally signed on, somehow I thought life would be like that again. Boy was I wrong! Not only do I not have any time (or the time I do have, I'm crashed on the couch), but I feel like I have few ideas to share with you. My deep insights seem to consist of how much I HATE getting up before the sun everyday or whether or not I can survive without a break for 6 weeks until March 10 (our February Inservice Day was taken away by an ice day in December and this wickedly warm weather leaves no snow day chances in sight!). I feel like my life is too boring right now to write much. Do you really want to know about the new writing time I am trying out on my kids or how I'm going to squeeze in 15 minutes of Reading Remediation during my scheduled Science/Social Studies classes? I could tell you fun stories about my first Friday the 13th as a teacher again....the overly ADHD boy I have in my class who purposely kicked his shoe off but accidentally sent it into the woods on the other side of the playground fence in the brush and mud...but I don't really want to relive it again.
Working on this new writing process time with my kids, I needed to bring in an item that they could interview me about in order to start a story that they could "watch" me write. I struggled to find an object that represented anything recent in my life. Pictures of our new furniture (the first of our 6 years of marriage - well, not counting the beautiful coffee table our friends helped us buy the first year)? Nah, that's boring to them and me. My ski jacket to represent our recent ski trip? While fun for me, not much to share right now. Then I realized, the one story that is still bottled up inside of me, waiting to come out, would be represented by one picture that I keep in my Bible and stumble across about once a month. It's a picture of Kyle Lake pretending to heal his brother-in-law Scott in the entry way of UBC during Chris' senior year of college - 1999. Kyle is trying to make the picture look serious, and Scott is hiding a grin, and I feel Kyle standing there every time I look at it. It takes my breath away, and I usually fight some tears. But somehow, I'm still not ready to write that story down yet, and I definitely can't share it with my kids. I am learning to love them, but I'm not that close to them.
It's funny how powerful words and stories can be. In something like a "blog" or the internet, there is a sort of freedom that comes from writing to an unknown audience. But working over a possible story in my head to a real audience, even a young one like my students, I realize my pain is still too fresh for confrontation.
I recently read several blog spots of others who are somehow dealing with Kyle's death more fresh this month than last. Maybe winter has more purpose than snow days and hibernation. Maybe its lack of joyful flowers and singing birds brings a sort of calm and quiet that forces us to confront our internal thoughts. I can't say, but either way, someday I'll have a story to write...that I will need to share. I'm glad you'll be around to read it.

Pooter

Ah, family. There are few people that we feel comfortable enough to poot in front of...or at least admit it was us. Chris and I just finished a marathon round of time with our families here in North Carolina for Christmas. As I reflect back on these two weeks I realize there is one common denominator with all the family...lots of pooting. And I won't name names on who is the winner of us all - you know who you are.
It does make me realize how comfortable love allows us to be. I know it's strange, but there is something reassuring and wonderful about being about to talk and laugh about your bodily functions knowing you will not be judged. Isn't it a monumental point in a new relationship when you are able to be that comfortable with each other? I don't think it is the actual act that brings you so close (usually it makes you move further apart), but the reality that you can be true to yourself...live who you are with someone who loves you. And isn't that what life is all about? Learning to truly live out who you are with those around you...somehow learning to let Christ live through you while still being the person you were created to be.
We had a renewing and excellent time with our families. Chris' parents were able to be here for a week before Christmas and experience our Christmas Eve service with us. Then my parents, sister and her boyfriend, Jed, came the week after Christmas. We even spent two days skiing at Winterplace, about 2 hours away. After they all left and the house was quiet, I was really sad. I love my family and feel I grieve a little bit every time we part. I even felt sad for my friends who also had to part from their family at the end of the Christmas season and especially for those whose loved ones have departed eternally. Yet, I feel there is some kind of lesson in all of this: my grief at saying good-bye to loved ones, which comes at the end of our Christmas break - occurring at the same time as the celebration of the wise men finding Christ in the Epiphany, a seldom celebrated service in our American churches. Doesn't it seem fitting that I had to say good-bye to such a great experience, and the wise men eventually had to walk away from the greatest experience of their lives as well? There is comfort that God does not leave us to experience life all by ourselves - rather we experience it over and over again, together.
On a separate note, I saw the movie Chronicles of Narnia and have to recommend it to you. I was very skeptical of watching it - I didn't want Disney to interpret for me what my mind had already created from C.S. Lewis' words. But I was impressed with the accuracy of the script and the power of this film. I truly understood the lion's sacrifice for the traitor and felt it brought Christmas in a much clearer view.
Well, enough rambling for tonight. I hope you have those in your life with whom you can poot. You're always welcome at my house!