Winter Solstice 2021

I was up before dawn yesterday, which was not a particular feat given the circumstance of the shortest daylight of the year.  There was a bit more energy in my oldish bones this morning, most likely brought on by the looming deadline of Christmas in four days.  In an astounding similarity to last year's situation, I am nowhere near ready to celebrate.  There are piles of clutter everywhere, moved from their usual spots to make way for the still-bare pine tree in our living room.  Plastic tubs of cookies, some waiting to be iced, are positioned precariously on the dining table.  They were supposed to be baked and shipped along with family Christmas cards a week ago...then Monday...then yesterday.  Now it's looking like a scramble to the post office before it closes at noon tomorrow, or the extended family is getting to celebrate the Twelve Days of Christmas as we do, and receive their gifts before Epiphany.

I was pondering all this as I stood at my kitchen window midday, midway through my to-do list (yes, that energy did kick in a bit).  I was also birdwatching, a lovely way to avoid tasks made convenient by the bird feeders hanging from our children's old playscape in the backyard.  The feeders have been popular this week:  bluejays, doves, cardinals, Bewick wrens, sparrows, titmice, chickadees, woodpeckers, and European starlings have been stuffing themselves for a winter that doesn't seem to want to arrive.

Yes, our forecast from now until January 2022 calls for short sleeves from here on out with highs in the eighties. Santa may have to trade his boots for flip-flops, one meteorologist joked on tv.

As I watched the birds, my gaze drifted down to the patio, where a butterfly was flitting about my scrawny looking milkweed plants.  A queen, by the looks of it; could have been the caterpillar that was munching on those same plants a few weeks ago.  An odd sight for Winter Solstice, I thought, as the butterfly sampled the flowers.  Wait a minute, they don't eat from milkweed flowers. They...

Sure enough, it bent its abdomen to the underside of one leaf, then flew to another, did it again...and again...and again. 

Butterfly eggs on Winter Solstice.  And they just may survive, given our sultry days ahead.  It's been another odd year of pandemic circumstances; why not add winter butterflies to the mix?  

Waiting in the dark--Spiritual Journey Thursday

 

I'm hosting this month's Spiritual Journey Thursday.

Inspired by Henri Nouwen, I chose the theme of waiting.

"To wait open-endedly is an enormously radical attitude toward life.  ...The spiritual life is a life in which we wait, actively present to the moment, trusting that new things will happen to us, new things that are far beyond our own imagination, fantasy, or prediction.  That, indeed, is a very radical stance toward life in a world preoccupied with control."

--Nouwen, "A Spirituality of Waiting", 1993.

 

Lady of the Sea statue, Anacortes, WA

Sit with me, and wait.

Wait in the darkness, 

lingering in the mornings, 

stealing our afternoons.

Sit with me, and wait.

Wait as we wrap gifts

Sing to beckon redemption

Light candles to illuminate the night.

Sit with me, and wait.

Wait as the Mother 

pregnant with Hope

content in knowing it will arrive.

Sit with me, and wait.

--Christine Margocs, 2021

*************

"There is not enough night left for us.  We have lost our true instincts for darkness, its invitation to spend some time in the proximity of our dreams.  Our personal winters are so often accompanied by insomnia: perhaps we're drawn towards that unique space of intimacy and contemplation, darkness and silence, without really knowing what we're seeking.  Perhaps, after all, we are being urged towards our own comfort.

...Over and again, we find that winter offers us liminal spaces to inhabit.  Yet still we refuse them.  The work of the cold season is to learn to welcome them."

 

--Katherine May, Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times, 2020.

I awaken long before dawn.

Night-black windows 

guard against the intrusion 

of the day's demands.

My movements are slow, 

shuffling down the hall,

remnants of dreams like spiderwebs in my hair

I treasure this time

when I can be me

beyond wife, mother, worker

When those dreams are more real

than the unseen world outside.

--Christine Margocs, 2021

************** 

And so we wait. We wait for the cookies to bake, the packages to arrive, the family to gather.  We wait for the longest night and the lengthening days beyond.  We wait for stuffed stockings and phone calls from home.  We wait, knowing that things will get better, because we have been given the Promise in Love's form, bringing Light to the darkness of Winter and weariness of Soul.

We wait in Hope.

  

 Thank you for taking this Spiritual Journey with me this December!

Tuesday Slice: COVID Diaries--Here we go again?

Oh, I was so sick two weekends ago...yet so satisfied, and dare I say it, a bit smug.

I scheduled my Moderna booster on the Friday afternoon that our district's Fall Break began, just in case I had side effects.  I planned well; within fifteen hours, my temperature started to rise, peaking at 101 before I cried uncle and took some acetaminophen.  There was joy in those feverish chills as I pictured little antibodies multiplying in my bloodstream, hoping my unmeasured numbers equalled those of my friends who participated in a state study and proudly, happily published their findings. I imagined an invisible suit of armor surrounding my body as I ventured into the not-so-sterile elementary school environment each workday.  I even dared to dream--gasp--of a maskless summer in 2022.

And then COVID-Omicron variant made the news.  Here we go again, I thought.

When the scientists have more questions than answers...that's when I start to worry.  My invisible armor doesn't seem so protective right now.  I was already a bit leery of attending an in-person statewide conference in April, but now I am fully sixty percent against going.  We went to an outdoor event with some brief indoor shopping in close quarters, and we were the only ones wearing masks in the building; outdoors, we saw only one other family in masks, out of hundreds of people.  Were they confident in being vaccinated, folks who don't believe that COVID is a problem, a mix of both?  Does it matter in the long run, as long as my family is vaccinated?  I've got more questions than answers these days, too. 

I am praying that next Christmas season, these COVID diaries will be a thing of the past.  For now, let's mask up and carry on, and pray for those researchers and medical folks in the field.  Looks like they will need our support for awhile longer.

Tuesday Slice: Downsizing

 

My father and his wife have ordered their Thanksgiving dinner premade, and will be spending this week, including Thanksgiving Day, continuing their decluttering journey towards an eventual move into a retirement community.  (There are no hard feelings here; we will be seeing each other in a few weeks for my son's graduation from college.)

In my attempts to straighten up my house a bit before the kids arrive for the holiday, I realize, yet again, that we can't wait until retirement to do the same.

I come from a family that values stuff; it is part of my DNA.  The thrill of scoring a really good sale is also inherited.  Throw in the childhood spent traversing the globe as a military BRAT, when my stuff became my sense of home, and a tendency to start creative projects and not finish them..well, you can see where this is going.

We are not hoarders, not in the truest sense (although with books, I plead the fifth; I am a librarian, after all).  I have no problem throwing away trash, recycling paper and plastic products, getting rid of clothes that are three sizes too small.  I am not someone who keeps items that spark sadness, so there, Marie Kondo.

But I can't bear to part with sentimental items.  Boarding passes to places I may never visit again, notes from grateful students, a Christmas tag with my mother's handwriting--they bring back happy memories, those I'm worried I'll forget without the physical reminders.

And there are those books I swear I will get around to reading, the projects I know I'll finish someday, those jeans that are just one size out of reach...

It's time, though, to think once again (because I know I've written about this before) about the long-term effects of having this clutter around.  

After all, this is the season of gratitude...and I have so much more to be thankful for than just stuff.

Tuesday Slice: Accurate forecast

 

I turned off the car radio

as I turned off the main highway

rolling down the windows a bit

breathing a bit more deeply

The cool, fresh air accompanied me

fresh thinking is what I sought

to clear my mind of its clutter

my schedule having a mind of its own these days

Another turn, and bright sunlight

is replaced by dappled light of piney woods

I slow way down, following the signs

my heartbeat slowing as wheels crunch on gravel

I rolled into my parking spot

rolled up the windows, turned off the car

slowly began unloading my belongings

feeling like I'm back where I belong

To mark the season's turning

breathe deeply

make a fresh start

be mindful

soak in sunlight

slow down

let tension roll away

to just...be

All photos by Christine Margocs, November 2021.

Tuesday Slice: Bright forecast

This Tuesday Slice

dares to predict the future

as it is being written

the Saturday before

the Tuesday you are reading it.

This Tuesday Slice

predicts that I will wake up this morning

in a cabin in the Piney Woods of Texas

feeling at peace, refreshed

a little sad, perhaps

that I will be leaving

in a few hours.

This Tuesday Slice

is forecasting sunshine peeking between leaves

fresh air wafting through a screened door

a night sky full of stars tucking me in

and maybe, just maybe

a s'more or two made beside a campfire.

If you haven't guessed already, I'm preparing for another Getaway, sans computer and social media  Let's see if these predictions came true!

 

Forever grateful--Spiritual Journey Thursday

Denise has given us the prompt of exploring gratitude for this month's Spiritual Journey reflection. You can find her own post here.

My current gratitude journal, like my last one, started as a blank Erin Condren bound notebook.  For years I treated myself to an appointment book each late December, prettily illustrated and already dated with plenty of space for my nightly notes.  But I also hoard blank journals, and it occurred to me a couple of years ago that I could pre-date the pages, making use of what I already possess.  

I began nocturnal gratitude journaling decades ago after reading Sarah Ban Breathnach's Simple Abundance: A Daybook of Comfort and Joy.  It was the one practice the author wished her readers to continue, above all the other suggestions she proffered in her daily musings.  The book and the practice of gratitude journaling appeared when I needed them the most--as I was grieving my mother's illness and subsequent death.  Writing five things for which I was thankful was often hard during those first dark months after her passing.  I can truthfully say that even now, "washer and dryer", "indoor plumbing", and "comfy bed" are mentioned fairly often, as is "pantry full of food" and "the health of my family".

Gratitude journaling, however mundane the details might be, makes me softer, helps me sleep better, and puts me in a state of constant gratitude.  It's not hard to think of what I'm grateful for, through that lens:

I am grateful for

the electricity that 

powered the alarm that

woke me up for quiet me time that

helped me face the challenges of the day and

the coffee maker that also woke me up and

colorful pens to write my morning page and

internet access to connect with my friends and

the colleagues who lend me support and

the students who follow library expectations with a smile and

the free Diet Coke in the teacher lounge fridge and

the PTA folks who bought us those sodas and

the mom-turned-sub who will stand in for me and

my son's graduation for college (the need for a sub) and

his sister, my daughter--the care they have for one another and

my husband, their father, who loves us through thick and thin and

this circle of Spirit-seekers who will read my words, as I read theirs, and

the glow I will get from their posts that

I will write about in my gratitude journal that

sits next to my comfy bed that

is right by the alarm

for which I am grateful.

There is a place, too, for which I am forever grateful--actually two linked places:  the hospital where both of my children were born, and the hospital which cradled my firstborn preemie until she came home.  Whenever I am near either of those two buildings, a silent thank you blooms in my heart for the people and medical miracles that made us, and kept us, a family.

Thank you, Denise, for the prompt of gratitude this Thursday.

Tuesday Slice: Routine is underrated

"Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are.

Let me learn from you, love you, savor you, bless you before you depart.

Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow."

--Mary Jean Irion

The older I get, the more I value routines.

My morning routine at home, performed alone in the quiet pre-dawn hours, sets the tone for my day.  I am able to breathe, collect my thoughts, wake up gently and prepare for work without feeling too rushed.  I plan my clothes for the week every weekend and lay them out each night, one less daily decision I need to make--decision fatigue is real among us educator-types.

My morning routine at work helps me prepare for the day ahead, too.  I turn on the lights, flat panel computer, circulation desk computer, and office laptop on the way to stowing my jacket and purse.  I scoop up my phone, reading glasses and water tumbler, leaving my tumbler by the door, as I head to the hallway to greet students, help out at the front door, and take care of library visitors.  As soon as the last bell rings, I fill up my water tumbler and get the computers logged in for the day's work.

That school routine worked, and then it was disrupted, will be disrupted for the foreseeable future with new duties to attend to most mornings.  I now need to wake up earlier, be at work earlier, to attend to library setup before heading to my new duty each day.

I would be lying if I said I didn't resent this change.  I  know I will get over the resentment, will learn to work with the new schedule.  I am hoping it benefits the teachers it will serve.

This change got me thinking about how often we have done this to students and teachers these past two years.  With so much uncertainty brought by the pandemic, shouldn't we be focusing on routines right now?  Teachers know that consistent routines go far in classroom management.  Children thrive in an environment where they know what's happening next, especially when their after-school lives may be chaotic.  We adults benefit from the same conditions, too.

Daily routines may sound mundane, but there is flexibility within that framework.  I learned that when serving fifty-seven classes a week in the library at my previous school; a weekly routine allowed for the occasional disruption (emphasis on occasional) without much to-do--or resentment--and gave me the time to serve all of my students.  I'm hoping this latest change will be the last one for a good long while.  Routine days are a treasure.

 

Tuesday Slice: Reader's response

I am a book-juggler; I very rarely read just one at a time.  Right now, I have a kidlit book, an adult novel, two personal growth books, and two professional books all in various stages of being read.  My Muse decided that today's Slice will be reader's responses in verse to three of the books.

The Book of Longings by Sue Monk Kidd 

If one is bereft of longings

     No hopes, no dreams

     No inner voice straining to be heard

Is one truly alive?

The Elephant's Girl by Celesta Rimington

What wisdom lies

   in an elephant's eyes?

Ghosts don't just say "Boo!"--

   they can be helpful, too.

Families are found in the heart.

Think Like a Monk by Jay Shetty

Exposing my negativity

Excavating my fears

Exploring my intentions

This is bibliotherapy.

Now I am thinking this might be fun for our students, too...

Tuesday Slice: Fall vibes

 

Fall vibes

Fuzzy socks 

long-sleeved pajamas

extra blanket

at bedtime

So-dark mornings

one more snooze button

chilled kitchen

warm cinnamon-scented coffee

Crisp sunrises

invoke deep breathing

skies of pale blues

or stormy grays

Warm sunsets

last of the mosquitoes lurking

fewer birds at the feeder

plants dug up by hoarding squirrels

Children focused 

on costumes and candy

adults already shopping

for Christmas

Calendar checks

trips planned

who's-cooking-the-turkey

pumpkin pie, apple, or both

Cardigans on rotation

coats at the ready

hats and mittens

not far behind

Fall vibes.

Tuesday Slice: Taking time for me

 

We had a staff development day yesterday, with a whole hour for lunch--educators know what a gift that is!  We sat in our overly-air-conditioned cafeteria for three hours in the morning, and I felt the need to warm up after eating in my office...so I went for a walk outside.  

I rarely venture outdoors during a workday, my usual schedule prohibitive of such activity, and it felt a little scandalous to do so.  I slipped out a back door and immediately felt the sun's warm rays on my shoulders.  Conscious of the time, I walked briskly around the cul-de-sac behind our school, empty of delivery trucks at the moment.  I made my way around the side entrance, and stopped at the garden planted on the front lawn.

Giant stalks of who-knows-what were bent to the ground.  I noticed tiny green cherry tomatoes here and there, and sprawling vines snaking through dried mulch with leaves as big as my hand.  The vines intrigued me, so I followed them with my eyes...and spied not one, but two watermelons!  Not quite ready for picking, so I let them be.

An orange butterfly--a fritillary, by the looks of it--fluttered from one flower to another.  I spent a few quiet moments just watching it feed, marveling at its colors and long, spindly legs.  Something made me look at my watch, and I realized it was time to get back to work.

Warmed up, back at my desk in my windowless library, I said to myself, "I should do this every Monday."

Where am I?--Spiritual Journey Thursday

Ramona has given us the prompt of exploring the concept of "here" for this month's Spiritual Journey reflection. You can find her own post here.

I am challenged to be present

Be here, in the now

With my bleary, tired eyes squinting at the screen

My stomach slightly roiling from today's uncouth eating

My head fuzzy with fatigue.

Before this

I paid a bill

listened to a podcast

while Christmas shopping with an hour to spare on a coupon,

and signing up for yet another self-help newsletter.

Was I there for any of that?

Before that

I was nodding off on the couch

phone in hand

husband seated across the room

new show on the television, half watched.

Was I there for any of that?

It is hard for me to be present

with a mind that tends to the future

and a body that protests for more sleep.

And when I sleep

will I finally be here

or will my mind decide to roam fields of dreams?

What is so wrong with the present

that makes it so hard to be here?

Tuesday Slice: Dance party of one

Some mornings

I turn the radio on, volume down low

Search for a station with a beat

Feet starting to move, then hips

Arms start swinging--

Moves from ancient aerobics tapes surface

(Who cares?  No one else is awake!)

Hands in the air, stretching overhead--

important for people of a certain age, so I'm told

Occasional slick shimmies from clubbing days

Conjure memories of sticky sweet machine-made fog

Carefree nights with friends...

The song trails off.  Do I have time for another?

Check the clock:  no.

This dance party ends with workday prep

Instead of a 2am run to Denny's for fries and a coke.

Three to five minute dance parties have become my mini-workout of choice most workday mornings.  Bonus mood booster if I happen upon eighties dance music.

 

Tuesday Slice: A library is not

In honor of Banned Books Week

 A library is not just pretty books lined up in neat rows

Not just pretty books filled with pretty thoughts

Not just pretty thoughts written to hide the ugliness

Hiding the ugliness does not make it go away.

A library is books lined up in neat rows

Rows of books filled with problems, real and imagined

The real and imagined conflicts mirroring our own

Our own fears and faults playing out in the safety of the pages.

A library's books are not always meant to make you feel comfortable.

The discomfort is where our discussion begins.

Tuesday Slice: Breathe in, breathe out

 

I've been taking lots of deep breaths lately

Running behind

my body flashes hot

breathe in, breathe out

pick up the pace.

Work piling up

no end in sight

breathe in, breathe out

finish one thing.

A student spiraling

my defiance rises, too

breathe in, breathe out

ask for support, continue teaching.

Another COVID notice

shake my head

breathe in, breathe out

adjust my mask.

Watching the news

sadness reigns

breathe in, breathe out

turn off the television.

The couch beckons

my body is tired

breathe in, breathe out

walk around the block.

The harvest moon glows

I step outside in the dark

breathe in, breathe out

in that pause, all is well.

Tuesday Slice: A royal apology

I'm sorry, beautiful Monarch

(you're the biggest I've ever seen, by the way)

I didn't realize you'd sense

the milkweed plant ensconced in a mesh tent

I knew, as you landed atop the synthetic barrier

yellow flowers muted by the white below your feet 

your abdomen curling, testing

 that you really wanted to lay that egg

but you see, I already have several

of your kin to feed

and I'm afraid there's not enough to go around.

I missed the photo opportunity, standing at my kitchen counter and watching the enormous butterfly land on the pop up tent protecting several caterpillars from would-be predators. I am seriously concerned that they will eat through the milkweed before I can procure more; we've been on the hunt for plants for three days with no success at nurseries nearby.  I may have to drive a bit to find more food for my voracious crawlers.

Looks big, but less than a half-inch in this photo.
One of four, possibly five in the tent.

 

Tuesday Slice: First week highs and lows

I felt rusty, out of practice, as the first class entered the Story Castle.  It helped to sing the familiar songs and read the stories used for library orientation, the back-and-forth chants and the nodding of heads knocking off the rust.  Library expectation lessons with the older students went well thanks to the helpful suggestion of using a Jamboard for each class, organizing our rules according to the school's safe-respectful-responsible guidelines.  The giggles happened on cue when I mentioned that all bets were off if a T-rex entered the library--screaming and running allowed then.  I saw smiling eyes above masks as our scholars walked or danced out of the library with their books in hand.

The week felt chaotic, though.  Some students are still struggling with adapting to in-person learning again.  The flow just isn't there yet, though I should hardly have expected it this first week back in the library.  The schedule will have to change again this week as the lunch schedules were tweaked last Friday, and we are all hitting the ground running after a three-day weekend.

I long for routine days, for the flexibility they allow within their framework.  In this pandemic, I think we could all benefit from some stability.  I'm hoping the dust will settle soon.    

Virtue? What virtue? --Spiritual Journey Thursday

Karen has given us the prompt of exploring a virtue(s) for this month's Spiritual Journey reflection. You can find her own post here.

I have perused the list of virtues that Karen provided several times now, trying to make a personal connection.  It is Thursday evening, past my intended bedtime, and I am tired to the bone.  I want to think of positive examples of those lovely virtues, but all my rumination leads to the lack of those qualities in myself and my surroundings. 

Virtue:  Energy                Chris:  Exhaustion

Virtue:  Orderliness          Chris:  Messy desks at work and at home

Virtue:  Acceptance          Chris:  Pouting in a corner

I have been operating in deficit mode this past week, fueled by envy.  Not the kind that Jay Shetty warns about in Think Like a Monk; I don't wish those whom I envy any less than what they have.  I am fully capable of co-celebrating others' successes.  I may not have been cheerleader material in high school, but I can do so in thoughts and prayers and affirming messages as an adult.  But when I turn from those spotlights to face some of my own challenges, the envy lurks in the shadows. 

My hope is that this unrest, this tiredness of the way things are, this envy of how things can be better...are the beginning pains of something great about to be birthed.  I can stop pouting, and instead take solace and rest in the dark.  I don't necessarily need to do anything about it; I can wait until opportunities arise, easing the way out.  Labor doesn't last forever. 

All I need is...patience.  Finally, a virtue with which I can connect.    

Tuesday Slice: Anticipation

Anticipation

This is the week.  Today is the day.

The shelves are full to overflowing

books lying horizontal on top of neat rows

Tables are rearranged and cleared

lessons at the ready in a digital file

Sitting dots placed in the Story Castle

orienting read-alouds at hand

Brand-new titles sit facing out in one case

proudly displayed on top of another

New shelf markers are itching to be used.

 

Tuesday Slice: The joy and the pain

I'll never forget the joy I felt ordering books for the first time as a librarian.  I can't forget it, because nine years later, I still feel that joy.  I start stocking my shopping carts even as the previous year's budget is spent, loading them up with award winners from spring announcements and recommendations from publishers, blogs, and other librarians.  There's always a series or three to fill, too.

This past spring was no different, except that I have the added challenge of spiffying up an older collection.  (Yes, I know I made a word up there.)  I have to balance out my wants--all those bright, shiny new publications--with my needs--updated nonfiction, replacing worn classics to increase their curb appeal.

After receiving my district book budget this year, I peeked at the shopping carts I'd started on my two favorite jobbers' sites...and the pain hit.  I am already just over my budget limit, and I need to keep some funds in reserve for next year's Bluebonnet Award nominees and books from the spring library conference.  

Do I start culling my list...or do I ask for more money from my campus?

I think it will be less painful to do the latter.  I have a feeling they love the joy of new books, too.

Tuesday Slice: Pare it down to three

After the dishwasher is emptied and my coffee is made, I started my morning brain dump. (Julia Cameron calls it "morning pages", but what I write isn't anywhere near as elegant as that term, nor the three page length she suggests--one page is all I have time for.)  

Since it is the beginning of the school year--students start tomorrow--my mind is racing with the multitude of tasks that must be completed to get the library up and running.  Clearing spaces, rearranging tables and materials and shelves, downloading and uploading Excel spreadsheets for ID badges--oh, and a schedule for the classes to come in for their pictures for those badges--cataloging materials, planning read-alouds, making the orientation lessons, finishing the bulletin board, reviewing the budget, working on required professional development, decorating the library (have to check with fire marshal regulations), and...and...and...

I look to the sticker I placed on my page.  "Things take time."

I look back to my brain dump.  What can reasonably be done today, knowing that my time will be punctuated with teacher requests and emails that will need answers?  What will bring me closer to being ready for tomorrow?

Clear the space and rearrange tables and shelves.

Catalog the most needed materials.

Prep for badge-making.

That's it.  If those three things get done, I can breathe a bit easier when students arrive tomorrow.  If I can shelve some books to clear even more space, that would be icing on the proverbial cake.  

I tell myself to breathe and keep breathing.  Things take time.  Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither will the 21-22 library program.

(On a related note...I am looking forward to ordering my 2022 Plum Paper Vertical Priorities planner with a space to list three must-do tasks each day.  I think it will be balm for my frazzled spirit.)

Tuesday Slice: Redux

 

Politicized to the point where

Anyone's opinion is accepted as fact

Nurses and

Doctors and scientists, the actual

Experts, shaking their heads--

Must we keep making the same

Ignorant mistakes?

COVID remains in the headlines.

We are entering another year of teaching in a pandemic, and it feels more dangerous to me this year than last.  We know more about mitigation, yet the government refuses to mandate those measures, pandering to their base instead of science.  The lack of mandates increases the risk for educators and students, especially those of us in elementary schools this fall.  

Once more, into the fray...