Tuesday Slice: Hydrotherapy

H20

Hot under the collar

Overwhelmed

Out of sorts

Holiday frenzy

Overtired

Out of patience

Headache

Overworked muscles

Out of steam

Hot shower

Over the day

Out like a light.

 

Tuesday Slice: The waves and smiles

 

I don't often write about work on this platform, maybe because I have another blog on which I post twice weekly about reading and library happenings.  But with a lack of other fleshed-out ideas, a work post it is.

I get smiles and waves in the hallway.

I know, I'm not the only educator that gets this attention.  But think about what this means.  This isn't just a nod to popularity.

Our students choose to send those smiles and waves our way.  It's not the same as the perfunctory greeting we elicit at the door, or the thanks that teachers prompt on the way out of the library.  Those smiles and waves are genuine (unless they're being used as a ruse for more thought-out shenanigans, but that's rare in my elementary school).

In my unique position as the campus librarian, I come in contact with every single student, every single week.  First and foremost, I want them to see me as a safe, reliable adult who welcomes them into an inclusive space of literacy, learning, and exploration.  There are days where the behavior and attitude of some students, and sometimes my behavior in response, makes me feel like I am failing at my task.

And then I get the smiles and waves, and I know I'm getting it right at least some of the time. So I always take the time to smile and wave back. 

Spiritual Journey Thursday: Slow the pace

Bob has given us our theme of acceptance and change this month,

with the following questions:

So, friends, I ask you how do you slow down? What helps you focus on you well-being and that of others around you. What little changes do you make in your life that can affect others?

The collective unconscious must be clamoring for calm, a break from the chaos this season, because I've been drawn to three different practices for just such a purpose.

1) I am reading Calm Christmas by Beth Kempton.  It is a guide for honing in on what your spirit really wants and needs during the holiday season--not what the commercials say you need, or your hundred-year-old family traditions, for that matter.  It's a lovely small book that is easy to read a bit, then ponder a bit...and then maybe cross off an item or two on your to-do list.

2)  I receive weekly emails from Ami Kunimura, founder of The Self-Care Institute.  This Wednesday's post gave us four tips for managing holiday stress.  The first two are my favorites:  "pace yourself", and "honor your personal boundaries."  Ami gives us permission to save some time and energy for our own personal needs.

3)  I am filling in the Cultivate What Matters Advent edition of their Write the Word journal.  Each morning, I write a note of gratitude, look up the assigned Scripture in my Bible, copy the lines, write a reflection, and choose a word to carry through the day.  The whole process takes me fifteen or so minutes, but it is a calming and centering routine that connects me to the hopeful, peaceful anticipation of the liturgical season.  

The calm I feel through these practices gives me the patience to manage problems as they arise at work and home.  I can choose to absorb only news that affects and informs me, and take time instead to enjoy a scented candle, baking my favorite cookies, wrapping gifts for family and friends.

May this Advent be less a season of chaos and stress, and more opportunities to breathe, be still, and believe in the hope that came to life on Christmas morning.

Tuesday Slice: Last days of November

 

We have a benignly strict tradition in our house, carried forward from my own childhood restriction:  no Christmas music until Santa arrives at the end of the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade.  It's a rule that has come to mean more to me as I've gotten older, to reserve the November holiday for family, and food, and giving thanks before the jolly Christmas mayhem begins.

A good tradition, yes....but I've been Christmas shopping since July.  Without the music, I promise, but there have been gifts set aside for quite awhile.

Did that stop me from taking advantage of online sales last Friday?  Nope.

Did I do even more damage to my credit card on Cyber Monday?  Yep.

Are we still in November?  Another confirmed yes, according to the Sandra Boynton calendar on my kitchen pantry door.

It's hard to think of the days after Thanksgiving, up to December first, as November.  November is brown, leaves falling, turkey basting, the smell of sage stuffing and apple pie baking.  December is sparkling red and green and white, pop carols on the radio, wrapping paper on the living room floor, gingerbread in the oven...except, wait, all that is happening, and it's...still...November.

Thank goodness this situation will be set aright when I flip that calendar page on Thursday.

Tuesday Slice: Sweater weather, at last!

 

Shivering, I

Work my arms into

Each warm, soft sleeve

Admiring the pattern as I

Turn down the heater a bit

Enveloped in my own, climate-controlled

Relief from the cold.

Winter is just around the corner,

Each cool breeze a prelude, nudging

Autumn out of the way

The morning frost isn't far behind

Helped along by the lengthening night

Enveloping my smoky breath

Rising from sweater-warmed lungs.

Tuesday Slice: A day off

 

Today, there will be writing, and planning, and reading.

Today, there will be laundry, and dusting, and cleaning.

Today, there will be music, and yarnwork, and holiday prepping.

I will be doing my best to avoid the television and computer screen.

I have already cast my ballot.

The results can wait until tomorrow.

Today, in solitude, I will breathe deeply and often.

(Today, I will cross my fingers.)

Spiritual Journey Thursday: Hallowed ground

 

Fran Haley has prompted the writing circle with the idea

of "holy" this month.  You can read her post, and the group's

linked posts, here.

I'm not sure when exactly it happened.  After my first child?  My second? 

Whenever it happened...I surprised myself.

The Sign of the Cross is the tell of a Christian raised in the Roman Catholic Church.  We dab our fingers in holy water and cross ourselves as we enter sanctuaries, making the Sign again and again throughout Mass, blessing ourselves as we exit.  Beyond chapel walls, the Sign begins and ends prayer (most often at the dining table).

I wasn't familiar with the tradition of making the Sign in the presence of other spaces until high school.  A friend, fellow Catholic with Latinx roots, urged me to cross myself as we passed churches and graveyards--to ward off evil and solicit blessings, she said.  That habit followed me for many years, despite my gradual departure from the Church of my youth.

I was still a fairly regular attendee of Sunday Mass when it happened--the urge, and follow-through, to make the Sign of the Cross while driving past...a hospital.

Not just any hospital.  The one where my children were born. Even more specifically, the hospital that bore witness to my less-than-ideal deliveries.  The hospital where angels-on-earth saved my twenty-six-week premature firstborn, cared for me through a miscarriage, and safely delivered my son, saving my life in the process.  The hospital that allowed me to ensure that another pregnancy wouldn't endanger my life again, to continue mothering my children.

The memories of giving birth in the presence of such care, compassion, and competence fill me with awe and reverence, not unlike entering a grand cathedral with a golden tabernacle.

Is it any wonder, then, that my hand goes to my forehead, heart, shoulders as I pass that building?  I utter a silent prayer of gratitude for the caregivers within and the blessings they gave me on that hallowed ground.