Sweet Satisfaction

            It rarely happens, so this weekend was a treat. My world as a mother and my world as a teacher generally spend most of their time in conflict, competing for my attention. I have never heard either of my daughters say “my mom has the coolest job- she is an English teacher!”  They readily admit that they do not understand why ANYONE would want to teach reading and writing. In fact, both of them think I am rather “nerdy,” especially when I get excited about grammar homework or choosing book titles with them.

            This was all true, until Grace Olding was assigned her first research paper. She actually asked me for help! We spent the better part of Saturday morning researching information about the Spanish conquistador, Hernando De Soto. I was showing her how to cite information and she was, at first reluctantly taking an interest…but then it happened. A switch flipped. She couldn’t stop researching. “Mom, did you know he wasn’t a very nice man – he made all of his money by enslaving Indians.” “Mom, guess what, he ended up marrying the daughter of the first guy he worked for.”  Before she knew it, she was almost finished with the research portion and beginning her writing. Her last sentences are  my favorite;  she wrote “Hernando De Soto was looking for gold, but he found something even better. He found the Mississippi River. That is a good thing.”

            Now, as if a 5^th grade research paper wasn’t enough for me to goon out over, it just so happens to be “Right to Read Week” and the girls had to write a family poem. WHAT FUN! I gave them a template that I use with my seniors in a folklore unit. We sat at the table and gathered ideas. Then I showed them how to piece words together. They went through a series of drafts. Their final product is adorable. I am so proud of them… and I suspect that even thought they are not ready to admit it publically… the English teaching mom was a bonus this weekend.

Here is their poem:

The Olding Girls

We are from Herb and Nettie, Richard and Vera, Bob and Helen, Bill and Grandma Jean, Papaw Ken and Grandma Brenda.

From Maria Stein, Russia, Houston, and Sidney – Williams Street and Hoewisher Road.

We are from families too big for one kitchen table.

We are from “Hail Mary full of Grace” and “close your eyes, shut your mouth,

 or my fist will knock you out.”

We are from “The Hamptons” at Christmas and summers at Indian Lake.

From “pamcakes” on Sundays, Grandma Weigandt’s apple pie,

and cheeseballs at Papaw’s house.

We are from Sidney Yellow Jackets, Houston Wildcats, Holy Angels Wings,

and Lehman Cavaliers.

From dirt bikes and dirt roads to poetry and prayers; from hillbillies to highly educated.

We are from bike rides to the cul-de-sac and backyard dance parties.

From soccer tournaments on the weekends to weekday Catholic school uniforms.

We are from church on Sunday mornings and soccer games on Sunday afternoons.

We are from loving the Disney princesses to loving four wheelers.

From First Confessions, First Communions, and first cousins we love to see!

We are from an English teacher, a chiropractor, and a pesky little brother we call “Fudge.”

We are from watching Mulan and the Lion King to

watching “Wheel of Fortune” and “The Cupcake Wars.”

We are from trips to Chilly Jilly’s after school and before school alarm clocks that we ignore.

We are from playing outside until it is dark and putting on Taylor Swift concerts in our living room,

We are from goofy, busy, silly, prayerful, strict, funny, weird, and loving parents.

We are the Olding Girls.

Yep - they are The Olding Girls... and I am so lucky to be their mom.

Chaos, Peace, and "Street Cred"

Now more than ever before in my life I feel like so many things are spinning out of control. My natural urge used to be to try to make some kind of sense of all it, to attempt to control it, or at least organize it in a way that would allow me to understand it.  I have grown accustomed to episodes of chaos. Sometimes there is chaos at home with crazy schedules or a vomiting child or even an inability to understand how to parent away tendencies that I see as weaknesses in my children. Sometimes there is chaos at work. This is not difficult to imagine in a high school setting. The workload becomes too much, the demands of graduating seniors weigh on me, the uncertainty of next year’s class schedule creates anxiety. Sometimes there is chaos in the life I lead after school as a volunteer. A budget is due for the catholic school, enrollment is down, parents have concerns, people want answers.  Yes, I have grown accustomed to operating despite episodes of chaos.   But this doesn’t feel like an episode, it feels like a full blown chaotic finale.

I no longer feel the need to control or manage the chaos, I just want a break from it. I need a break. I have been looking forward to spring break for months. I am a day and a half into spring break and while I have not managed to escape chaos completely, I found peace today. I had planned on staying home and getting “things organized.” I usually find it relaxing to organize in the quiet of my house. But, today I reluctantly decided I would go to mass at 8:45. It was an all school mass at Holy Angels, where my girls go to school. I wanted to have coffee and putz at home alone, but my third grader reminded me that this would be my last chance to go to confession during Holy Week. That’s what I get for sending her to a catholic school.  So I went to mass and planned on staying after to go to confession… with her class.

I dropped the girls off and had ten quiet minutes to myself in church before peace came. It didn’t come in the quiet. It wasn’t there when I was alone. It came as I watched 231 students in uniforms genuflect and take their seats. The music started and their sweet voices filled the church. Then Father Hess began his homily about miracles. He asked the children to define what a miracle was. Hands went up, and he picked Evie Olding to answer. Evie, my nine year old, who has been in trouble since birth for not listening or speaking out of turn. I was certain she didn’t know the answer. In fact, I was convinced that she probably didn’t even hear the question, she just wanted a chance to speak in front of an audience.   To my surprise, she astutely answered “A miracle is when something appears that you can’t explain.” A soon as she said it my nose started to tingle, my cheeks got warm, and the tears came. I couldn’t stop them.  It was a beautiful, cathartic, quiet cry that continued as the children celebrated mass.

I didn’t have the answers to how I should deal with all of the chaos and what my role would be in the solutions that were needed. The anxiety wasn’t completely gone. I knew the chaos would find me again, but I could feel the worry dissipating. I picked up a hymnal and found the page to read the words of the next song so I could sing along.  “Be not afraid. I go before you always. Come, follow me, and I will give you rest.” I have sung this song at least a hundred times in my life. However, today the words comforted me in a way that was tangible.  I felt like I was home. I was where I needed to be. The chaos would still be there, but so would He. I need to trust more and worry less. It sounds simple enough, but I have never been good at it.

Mass ended and I parked myself behind the third grade class to wait for my turn in the confessional. Father Dan led the third grade class in an examination of conscience.  He then invited me to go before the children. I went in and sat down so he could hear my confession, I told him about the peace I felt during mass, and I was crying again.  We talked for several minutes and instead of a penance he said “You need to rest and let grace and peace find you.” As I left the confessional I thought again about Evie’s definition. If a miracle is when something appears that you can’t explain, then I feel like that is what I was given today. I found peace in the middle of chaos. I can’t explain it, but I know it was real.

Oddly enough, when I picked Evie up from school… she let me know that her class prayed for me because I was in there for a long time and I came out crying so they figured I must have really done something awful.  Apparently I now have all kind of “street cred” with the third grade class at Holy Angels.