If I could name a theme that ran through my posts last March, it would have to be my knee. I "injured" it, and I use that term loosely because all I was doing was walking down the hall at school. Although my knee completely went out, and I couldn't walk, the MRI showed deterioration and arthritis but no damage bad enough for surgery...yet. Although I do believe that day will come.
For the past year, I have walked with a limp, and that has affected my other knee, my hips, and shoulder. I had moments, hours, and days where it worked and moments, hours, and days where it didn't. Steps are difficult, and I walk up and down one step at a time. My knees ache when I sleep, and rising from a sitting position makes me feel like the Tin Man in search of an oil can. All these things also affected my mental health, and I am sure depression was a possibility.
Last Friday, I decided to get an injection. Although my knee is still not perfect, I feel like a new person. Coming upstairs to write this slice, I walked up with alternating feet and carried items in both hands, without holding the railing. It has been a long time since I was able to do that.
The only question is, "Why did I wait so long?"
We have lived in our house almost 34 years. Although we live in a city, our house is in a "countryish" quiet neighborhood with mature trees, very little traffic, and through the years a variety of animals have made their appearance.
A family of skunks have lived between a drainage pipe and a stack of wood in our neighbor's yard. A red fox has traveled through, especially since the neighbors to the left started raising chickens along with a rooster. Groundhogs burrow their way into the walls of our ditch line. Startled deer run through, trying to understand why cars might be honking at them. Canadian geese regularly fly over because of a small lake just south of us. Somehow, a squirrel got through our attic fan and came bouncing down from upstairs. A wayward wood duck found its way into our chimney and down into our fireplace, only to meet its demise by coating its wings and lungs with soot and ashes.
But today was a first.
I was in the kitchen making my toast, and my husband says, "There's a turkey in the front yard."
"What?!?" I grab my camera and run with him out to the front porch. And there it was strutting around the front yard.
What a gobble-y start to the weekend!
Last April, my mother passed away, and I received a beautiful calla lily. These were also my mother-in-law's favorite flower, so I really wanted to keep this one alive.
My classroom is an ideal place for me to grow plants. I have a plant that I have had since my first day of teaching, 18 years ago, and it has sat in the corner of every desk. I have peace lilies from when my dad and father-in-law passed away in 2008, and another plant I received from a student over 15 years ago.
I've been pretty successful, so I was hoping the calla lily would enjoy living in my classroom too.
But I was wrong. It died a slow death with leaves dying one by one. I finally stopped watering it, pulled the dead leaves off, and placed it on my computer cart in the back of room, not giving it any attention.
One day, I needed some dirt, so I walked over the black pot and dug my fingers into the dried-up dirt. I felt something, so I pulled it up. Examining it closer, I realized it was a bulb with some little shoots sprouting up.
I thought, "I haven't watered this since last fall. How could something possibly be growing in it?"
I haven't had time to research it, but I truly want this plant to grow. If you know anything about growing these lilies, I would appreciate you leaving a comment!
This month's topic is strength, which also happens to be my one little word for 2026. I am working on many areas in my life that need strengthening, but strength is becoming a big part of my faith journey through journaling, Bible reading, prayer journals, and quiet time. Spiritual muscles, just like the muscles in my body, are built by exercising regularly.
Here are a few prompts that I have been writing about in my notebook:
Throughout my years of teaching reading, I have told my students, "If you are reading a story and come across a name you can't pronounce, just make one up that is close to it." This helps them to move past that sticky part and focus on the events in the story.
I even use this strategy myself. One of my classes has been reading the book, Grenade by Alan Gratz. It is a war story and is set in Okinawa. There are many Japanese names in it that I can't pronounce, so I make them up. The students see me struggle but move on.
I learned tonight that I do the same strategy but in a different situation.
Medicines!
I fill weekly pills for a relative, and he takes 10 different medicines. As I lined them up on the counter to begin dropping into morning, noon, evening, and bedtime spaces, I realized there was a new medicine that wasn't on his list.
I called my cousin, his sister, and asked her if she knew what this medicine was for.
"Can you tell me the name of it?'
"Sure...dragonfly."
"What?"
"Well, I can't pronounce it, but it kind of looks like dragonfly, so let's go that!"
The first Tuesday of each month, we have professional development sessions. In one of our sessions today, we had to complete a self-assessment of our classroom management. I am all for reflections and self-assessments for my students and myself.
However, trying to read the packet in a room full of teachers who are talking becomes difficult for this old brain. I was having to think too much, and the talking was a distraction. I was actually thinking, "How in the world are they answering these questions with all this noise? How could they even think?"
I inconspicuously (one of our roots this week!) pressed my fingers against my ears and tried to really focus on these three sentences:
It's Saturday night, and I just got out of the bathtub. I am settled on the couch eating Troll jellybeans and playing a game on my phone. My son is home for the weekend and is upstairs in his room talking on his phone to his girlfriend.
I get a call, and it is him.
"Yes???"
"Are you in the living room?
"Yes???"
Can you go downstairs and get the WD40?"
"Yes??? Where would it be?
"Either on Dad's workbench or in that open cabinet."
"And why do you need that?
"My bed is squeaking, and if I move, I might not be able to find the squeak again."
I get up, go the basement, fetch the can of WD-40, and go upstairs to his room. He is lying in bed squeaking away.
"Can you get down there and look under the bed and see if you can find where it's squeaking?"
"I can't do that! My knees won't let me. Here, let me try something."
I go over to the top of the bed and pull it away from the wall just a little. The squeak stops. I look at him and laugh, "Moms can do anything!" And I walk back downstairs to my jellybeans.
Another page on the calendar has turned, and March has arrived. And with it comes another unopened notebook full of emotions, ideas, and untold stories.
I first participated in this challenge in 2014 and have returned each year. Many years I wonder why I keep coming back, and I wonder if I can even do it anymore.
Yet here I am again.
Yesterday, I read a post on social media from Alan Wright. He has a new book out about writing: Notebook Notions. Two things he said on his post stayed with me, and I feel they were a gentle guide to help me realize why I do return each month.
"Narrow the gap between intention and action."
I have been trying to get reacquainted with my writing life for quite some time. My notebooks sit stacked on my desk, unopened for weeks (or months) at a time. I attend my writing group and set goals each week, only to say, "Well, there's always next week" after reporting I didn't reach my goal again.
I think about this challenge and realize that this quote is really why I join each month: to narrow the gap between intention and action. Knowing that I have the support and encouragement from a community makes that gap seem so much smaller.
"Serious writers write, inspired or not. Over time they discover that routine is a better friend than inspiration."
I am inspired each day by others in this community, and I have many books that have writing prompts and ideas meant to inspire the writer in me. Opening my computer and clacking out a blog post for 31 days, is a bit intimidating. But hitting that orange publish button gives me a sense of accomplishment and builds my self-confidence. Maybe it IS the routine that I need most and not all the books.
I am ready to find those words that have lain dormant for almost a year. I welcome the feedback in the comments, the community visitors to my corner of the world, and the joy of sharing my stories once again.
Where have all the snow days gone?
I was in the 8th grade in 1978. The year of the blizzard. The blizzard to which all other Indiana winter storms are compared and probably will be for the next generation to come.
I don't remember much about the storm. After all, I was a "junior high" student then, and I am sure I had more important things to remember than storms. Like bad haircuts! I don't remember being out of school, the minus 50 degrees wind chill, or the whole state being shut down.
Instead, I remember the images. I remember the snow drifts taller than me, and the snow piled high on the street. We lived on a busy street in town--a snow emergency route--so our street was one of the first to be cleared. I remember my parents not going to work, which was not something they did often.
This weekend, 48 years to the day, we had another storm. The snowfall was close to the 1978 storm in my area with about 14 inches. It wasn't as catastrophic as '78, but it was still significant. But that amount was the most we have had since then. For some, it would be considered historic.
As I see pictures of younger children in this year's storm, I have to wonder how social media will affect their memories and if they will be talking about it like we did in 1978. Will they be mesmerized by the amount of snow and how the town was shut down? Will they remember the empty shelves in the store? Will they remember having eLearning days instead of snow days? Will they even know what a true snow day was?
Sadly, I don't think it will be quite the same.
As a child, we didn't memorize scripture, and if I am being honest, I really didn't know much about Bible. I listened to our three readings at Mass and sang the responsorial Psalms. But I didn't know them, and I could not recite verses.
Over the past several years, reading the Bible has become a part of my spiritual life. Even if it ebbs and flows. I can now recite verses that hold special meaning to me, and some that "people say I should know."
This year, one of my goals is to read the entire Bible in chronological order. I am following a plan, like many others. I know that many people have started this on January 1 and have failed within a few days.
I think failure is part of any goal. But through this failure, I hope to find strength. I hope to build such a strong habit, that missing a day will only make me want to return.
The word strengthen is found in many verses in the Bible. This one in Isaiah 41:10 is one I am holding on to.
My writing well has been quite dry. This is the fewest number of blog posts I have ever written in a year's time. I miss writing. But have I missed it enough to change my patterns, my habits, my motivation?
I know many people are thinking and writing about their one little words. I have been thinking about it, too. But have I been thinking about it enough to write about it? Did I even want to?
Maybe.
The last few weeks, the word build has been on my mind. What would I like to build in my life? What do I need to build in my life? After contemplating this word, I knew it wasn't quite right. I don't need to build anything new; I have enough "stuff." And I am getting too old to build new things in my life.
What would happen if I strengthened the things that I have spent years building but seem to have crumbled in the last year? That thought became my ultimate question and the word strengthen began showing up in unexpected places throughout my day...until I knew I had found my word for 2026.
What are some things I already have built, but I need to strengthen this year?
I am delighted to be hosting Spiritual Journey Thursday this month. This month our topic is family. Please link up below if you would like to join us.
When I chose this topic, it was the Sunday our priest gave a homily about the importance of family. It was really much more than that, but I can't remember, and I did not write it down. So, as I was thinking about what I was going to write about, my thoughts turned to my mother.
My mom passed away in April after years of suffering from dementia. As many dementia patients do, my mom repeated the same stories over and over. Sometimes within minutes of each other.
One of her favorites was about her family. She would tell how she had “two daughters and a granddaughter who were teachers: one high school, one junior high and one grade school.” She was so proud of that.
Today, we added another granddaughter to the story. Although we told Mom Addie was going to be a teacher too, that part of the story just never stuck. Mom didn't live to see this moment today as we snapped this picture at our opening day, but I know she was smiling down from heaven.
Over the years, I have wondered why some stories stick and others don't. I am not a brain expert, but maybe it's those stories about family that we hold closest to our hearts that we remember. Maybe God places them there to help those left behind feel our loved one's presence after they are gone. Maybe those stories are the ones that connect our hearts.
I know Mom would be so proud today, and I am grateful I have this story to share.
If you would like to join us and share your family story, please link up below. And don't forget to come throughout the month to find later posts!
We just wrapped up our standardized "testing season." For the last two weeks, I did my best to keep my classroom screen free because I wanted them to save screen time for the hours of testing. We worked on a creative project, wrote some fun stories, and played word games.
Friday, the final day of testing, I only had my afternoon classes because of the testing schedule. I decided to give them free time, which they know I do not do very often. I was catching up on my to-do list after missing almost two weeks of school due to the passing of my mother, and my only requirement was that the noise level had to be tolerable.
Fifth period, I looked around and couldn't believe what I saw. Every single student had chosen to NOT be on their computers. Instead, they were playing games and having fun with each other. Some sat around one desk while others sat on the floor. It was glorious.
This made me wonder what if we gave students more opportunities to be screen free. Would they choose no screens on their own? Would not being on computers help them focus when they do have to use them?
This experience has certainly given me something to think about...and to smile about.
When a writer sends words out into the world, she never knows upon whose heart they may land.
A comment on my mom's online obituary began a serendipitous trail.
Let me back up to March 24th, where I was wrapping up my slice of life challenge. My writing group had a journal club meeting, and one of the prompts was about a hiding place. I wrote about a mulberry tree that I used to play in with my childhood best friend. I turned that entry into a poem and posted it as a slice the next day.
As I was reading the comments on the obituary, I saw one from this childhood friend. She wrote about how my mom always included her even with all my mom's responsibilities. I was touched by the comment because I have not seen this friend since we graduated high school over 40 years ago.
A few days later, my sister sent a text showing me a post by my friend. Apparently, she Googled me and found my blog.
And found the poem I wrote about her.
