{these moments}

A Friday ritual from my friend Wendy, who got it from SouleMama. A single photo (sometimes two) - no words - capturing a moment from the week.

{this *holiday* moment}

A Friday ritual, often a Saturday one for me, from my friend Wendy, who got it from SouleMama. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week.

tradition

We spent Christmas Eve as we always do, with friends in town. The players change with time, and the venue has too, but the sentiment is the same: it is the closest I come to church. We socialize, enjoy amazing food, and read Christmas stories to each other. Every year is different, but the love is the same. Powerful stuff, if the truth be told.

I have always been fortunate with friends. Ok, maybe not always, but in my adult life for sure. I met some amazing people in college (and we hope to get together every November....) and am surrounded by incredible people here. But the longest friend I have was actually my sister's friend first. Let me sum up:

MVP lived about 2 miles from our house. She and my sis were best friends off and off through elementary school, but it 'stuck' in high school. (Best costume ever was the year they were a clothes line: they were each trees with a bit of line between them and mittens hanging off it. Nowadays they'd have to take it apart because of safety issues, but in 1980-whatever-it-was, it rocked BHS.) We all ran cross country together (and by "ran" I really mean "limped along the course to cross a finish line and score pathetic points"...) and became a solid group before too long. For many years, Sis and I would head to her house before heading to the Christmas Eve service at our church. Now, keep in mind that said friend was Greek. Which meant Greek pastries. So no matter how many Aunts were in the kitchen working on finishing touches, we were happy to stay in the living room out of the way, exchange gifts... and of course we'll sample the wares while we're around...

Her mother always served us ginger ale, in a paper cup. Every year. It was part of what happened: amazing baklava, and paper cups of soda. Flash forward 10 years, and her mom passed away after a battle with cancer. And now every Christmas Eve, I remember that first tradition that was mine, and not my parents, and toast Mrs. V's memory. This year, my children realized Santa doesn't like milk AT ALL, and would much rather have a Coke. So here's to you, Mrs. V. It's not ginger ale in a paper cup, but it is given with love by some wonderful children. I have no doubt you'd approve.

disclaimer

For the record, I don't tell these tales looking for accolades. I tell them because writing about them helps me process. To be able to "let it go" when I've had a rough day. All the love I get from all of you is an added bonus.

So thank you for supporting me. It really does make my job easier.

lessons of the Magi

Most years the holiday season brings a bit of stress into our happy classroom. I've come to expect it. But this year... well, let's just say it fits in with the theme of The Hardest Year Ever. So what's my response? Just keep swimming. We made sugar cookies today... and 3 kids participated. Maybe 4 kids worked on the gingerbread house. Yesterday I couldn't even read them The Gift of the Magi without complaints.("What do we do if we've heard this already?" Heard this already? I hear it at least twice a year and it STILL makes me cry! You'll listen and like it!) So, I compromised, and showed the Bert and Ernie version, where Bert trades his paperclip collection to Mr. Hooper for a soap dish for rubber duckie, and Ernie trades RD for a cigar box for the paperclip collection. Mr. Hooper, who is Jewish and doesn't even celebrate Christmas, then saves the day by returning the prized possessions. (If you want to see it yourself, I found it on YouTube. Christmas Eve on Sesame Street. Clips are intermixed and I'm not savy enough to grab them.) For about 15 minutes, they were playing along. They got it. They understood why I love this story, whether about Jim and Della or Bert and Ernie. I told them the story of Devon's washing machine and all the checks flowing in... and the one friend who gave 'everything that was in my wallet', which was a number resembling $1.87. And I cried when I read them the final paragraph, as I do every time, and I heard Devon reading along with me. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are the wisest. Everywhere they are the wisest. They are the magi.

If I do nothing else in this job, I want to fill them to overflowing with kindness and love and happy memories. I want them to know that someone enjoyed spending time with them. That someone thinks about them fondly, and tells stories about them for years and years. I know I don't send them away having mastered all the academics they're supposed to, and yes, that does bother me. But, I think anyway, I do send them away feeling important. And if that is all I do... that is enough.

{this moment}

A Friday ritual, often a Saturday one for me, from my friend Wendy, who got it from SouleMama. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week.

{this moment}

A Friday ritual, often a Saturday one for me, from my friend Wendy, who got it from SouleMama. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week.

It's not the lottery, but it may as well be!

http://amyshertzerphotography.wordpress.com/2010/12/05/we-have-another-winner-bozeman-family-photographer/

To say I'm excited is an understatement. Oh, how I love pictures... and a photo session with this amazing photographer and my nephews... I just might book plane tickets this week :)

{this moment}

A Friday ritual from my friend Wendy, who got it from SouleMama. A single photo (or two, depending) - no words - capturing a moment from the week.