One More

April 18, 2013 and April 1, 1016 are significant days that my family will always remember. Like marks chiseled on a door frame, they will be forever engraved in our minds. They will make us swallow, stifle a tear or two, but mostly make us stop and praise the Lord that we were given a precious gift of a few more years with our most special man.

First, he was diagnosed with (FTD) Frontotemporal Dementia, which is caused by progressive nerve cell loss in the brain’s frontal lobes (the areas behind your forehead) or its temporal lobes (the regions behind your ears), most likely caused (or sped up) by 4 significant blows to the head. Three years later he survived a stroke, which left him wheelchair bound for 10 months.

I don’t think we are alone in measuring time by landmarks: when we were married, had our children, grandchildren, moved, changed jobs… But never, did we celebrate them like we do now.

One more.

We were told at the time of the diagnosis that my favorite man had (on average) 6-8 years to live from the time of onset. On April 18, my husband will have reached his 6 year anniversary.

Honestly, we feel like he is doing well. There are seven stages of FTD and I would guess that he falls in the fifth stage. On average, a dementia patient remains in this stage for about 4 years. As long as we keep his world small and predictable, he continues to be highly functional and needs minimal assistance. At this stage, my husband is quite easy to manage and remains fairly content.

What this means is that we don’t look too far into the future for anything and we celebrate nearly everything. It makes me think: What if everyone looked at life as “one more”? What if we slowed down and stopped looking toward the next —- and just celebrated today- the wonderful, beautiful today?

Today we took our first walk of the season to the ocean, and had one more ice cream. We sat on the warm rocks and watched one more tide roll in, and listened to one more windstorm.

Perhaps we all need a mindset change. Instead of “sitting through one more dreaded meeting”, we looked at the time as one more opportunity to gather with colleagues? Instead of “one more work week”, we looked at the blessing of a job that fulfills us?

Everybody has a hard job, and everyone goes through hard times. But what if… What if we took the time to be thankful and joy-filled because God has graced us and blessed us with “one more”?

One more day to say “I love you.”

One more day to hold his hand on a walk.

One more day to close my eyes and feel the warmth on my body while listening to the waves slap against the rocks, smelling the salty air.

There will come a day when I will miss watching the 2016 election, putting down the toilet seat, and running into furniture that has been moved yet again. There will be a day when I will plead and beg for just one more day.

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Early Onset: A Challenge to Diagnose

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     On Thursday, the Alzheimer’s Association is pushing for a new bill in the state of Maine, LD 1072, that will require doctors and other medical staff to be trained in dementia, hospitals to develop a care plan before discharging a dementia patient, and that doctors always disclose a dementia diagnosis.
     This is our story.
     In May of 2002, my husband (age 36) went to a weekend Men’s Retreat at Camp Fair Haven. It was there, that he had a terrible accident. He rolled his four-wheeler going down a steep hill, holding on for 2 of the 3 rotations. Thankfully, he was wearing safety gear and had a helmet on. However, he remained in Trauma Care for 14 days suffering with multiple injuries that included a shattered ankle, broken collarbone, broken ribs, and a punctured lung.
     In hindsight, I do believe that this is where our Dementia story began.
     My husband is a clutz. If he can trip over, fall off, run into, or drop anything, he does. He has never accepted his limitations and has a very strong work ethic. As a result, he has sustained many injuries over time. I lovingly joke that, “He is the reason we have health insurance”.
     That same year we lost the matriarch of the family to cancer: his mother. He hit rock bottom. He could not get his bearings. It was at that time that the doctor put him on the first of many antidepressants. Many made him worse. So we would slowly wean him off one set, and wean him on another. We blamed his mood, social, and cognitive glitches on the loss of the mother that he adored.
     Over time, he has sustained 3 more significant blows to the head, participated in unsafe behavior, began self-medicating with alcohol and had what doctors classified as a classic “Midlife Crisis” in 2009. Our marriage of 22 years nearly dissolved.
     In 2010, my husband lost his father to cancer. Again, doctors continued to treat the obvious: depression. He attended counseling and weekly support groups.
     In 2013, he abruptly lost his job of 17 years after making an error on an insurance claim for a customer, submitting the claim as a “final bill” instead of a “final quote.” He had no idea that the error had been made, until a private investigator knocked on the front door to our home.
     We were denied unemployment, despite hiring lawyer #1 on half-salary, and appealing the decision twice.  His employer insisted that he made the error on purpose, although my husband clearly had nothing to gain.  It was cruel and humiliating. At that time, he was 47 years old.
     Seven months later, he was hired at a competitive company, and worked just 5 months before employers let him go. His employers thought there might be something wrong with his memory and encouraged him to see a doctor. So, a year later, to the date, my husband lost his second job.
     This is when we got serious with doctors and insisted on extensive testing.
     
It took two and a half years to get Social Security Disability. We were denied twice and forced to testify at a hearing with lawyer #2 for $6,000 despite medical paperwork 2 inches thick.
     In March of 2016 my husband had a stroke, which left him in a wheelchair for 10 months.
     
Much of what we have learned, we have learned on our own. Doctors are reluctant to answer questions because “every case is different”, and patients and caregivers are forced to reach and grab at straws. Thankfully, a specialized support group for early-onset coached us.
     
However, the most frustrating part of the diagnosis is that I feel like I have to be a strong advocate and educator to medical professionals and personnel. When I take him to the ER, which we frequent for Urinary Tract Infections and spikes in Blood Pressures, I have to be right by his side. I carry a fist full of papers which include his medical history, the history of his family, his multiple medication list, Medical and Financial Power of Attorney, and a DNR. This was as a result of lawyer #3 & #4, Eldercare Lawyers hired to prepare end of life paperwork & Wills.
     I have to remind professionals to talk to him and look at him while I listen. I have to coach them to put him in a quiet space, to speak slowly and simply, to dim the lights, and keep me with him as much as possible, because Dementia is huge and complicated, and nobody knows how to support and quiet nerves more than the caregiver. A huge part of the diagnosis is FEAR: fear of crowds, people, everything.
     At one point, our Primary Care Physician discussed the possibility of Home Visits. I would like to recommend that as something medical professionals consider. My husband is a very different person at home. If medical professionals want to see an accurate representation of where those diagnosed are at in their progression, I would highly recommend a home visit.
     After both his accident and his stroke, Home Health Care was fantastic. PT, OT, nursing, and social workers came to our home during the day, allowing me to continue to work full-time.
     We are young and many health care facilities aren’t accustomed to working with those diagnosed with Dementia in their late 40’s/early 50’s. As a result, many people have difficulty getting diagnosed, and are misdiagnosed for an extended period of time. At his highest point, my husband was taking 27 pills a day. I worry about the time that we are not longer able to care for him in our home. Thankfully, our youngest daughter and her family were able to move in with us and care for him by day so that I can continue to work full-time. She is taking on-line classes with a focus on Gerontology, with the hope that as he progresses, she will be better equipped to care for him and keep me working. (I’m not eligible for retirement for another 10 years.) Our older daughter has extensive training and has been an additional coach/support system for us. Although her home base is in Arkansas, she comes home for nearly every school break. I often wonder what would happen to my husband if he didn’t have such a strong support system.
     Today he is 53. We are nearing the 6 year anniversary of his diagnosis, and we are told that on average those diagnosed with Frontotemporal Dementia live 7-8 years from the time of onset. At this point, he isn’t receiving any extra medical care: no more specialists. Initially, we reached out to the Brain Center for testing, Dementia Specialist, Neurologist, PT, OT, and saw a multitude of specialists. Although he remains fairly high functioning, he just wants to live his life. Thankfully his PCP has been very supportive of our decision.
     We just need to know that when the time comes, medical personnel are adequately trained in dementia care, a care plan is provided before sending us to next steps, and that professionals are equipped to help caregivers fill out necessary paperwork for long-term care. We need to be able to access local memory care facilities equipped to work with those of early onset Dementia, so that our loved one is not housed in the same area as the elderly or those with differing mental health diagnosis. In the end, we want to easily access our loved one, and be provided the quality and affordable care that he deserves.
    Please consider testifying on behalf of those diagnosed and contact your local representatives regarding LD 1072. I did.
     Cynthia Higgins
Waldo County, Maine
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     Here is a copy of the bill:

Spaghetti Struggles

“How do I understand him better? Why does he say what he says? Why does he do what he does? Isn’t it common sense? Doesn’t he just know what I need? Why do I have to tell him again? I feel like he doesn’t care.”

Partnerships are complicated. There are no exceptions. Relationships between any two human beings need work, and those that matter the most require a whole lot of hard work. (I dare say that 100% of the time: every day, and all day.) Our family has relied on the two books featured. If you haven’t read them, I highly suggest taking the plunge. They are a quick easy read jam-packed with great practical information.

So what happens when one can’t give 100% and your relationship leans to one side? For whatever reason, the relationship is lopsided. Now what?

These are my favorite verses to fall back on. When I am feeling defeated, alone, and fear is getting the best of me, this is the place where I land:

26 Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.

28 And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:26,28

This week my husband was faced with a “plate of spaghetti” and I had an opportunity to see how he was able to tackle it in his dementia state of mind. Women think like spaghetti. They have a thousand things whizzing around and multiple plates to juggle at once. It is how we are hardwired. Men, generally do not multitask as well, and like to handle tasks one waffle square at a time. This is definitely true with the men in my life.

In the past- before dementia, my husband would handle a “plate of spaghetti”- multiple dilemma’s all interwoven, by peeling apart one or two parts of the dish at a time. In fact, I remember him coaching our teenage children through each crisis by giving them a list of 2-3 things to do, with a timeline. He would help them by placing the parts and pieces of the spaghetti dish into waffle squares to be tackled one at a time. He was good at it, and the kids would gravitate toward our calm problem solver.

I, on the other hand, am a practical problem solver and a BIG PICTURE girl. The kids didn’t need my help to see the forest just yet. They just needed to see one tree at a time, and he was their go-to person. In fact, I have often made things worse if I interfere too early.

We have been a team. We compliment each other very much. He has traditionally seen the trees and could get them out of the forest. Then he would tag out and I could help them to process and plan next steps.

So, back to the spaghetti. My brain goes a mile a minute. In fact, on this Saturday, I was awakened at an early hour with a headache, a sore jaw, and thoughts flying through my brain at warped speed.

My husband’s brain does not. This week he sat and stared at his figurative plate of spaghetti, and could not pull out just one part at a time and work through our multilayered challenges. He didn’t even know where to start. The only solution that he could think of wasn’t a possibility. He just sat and cried. He knew I needed him, but he couldn’t help.

So what happens when the relationship is lopsided, despite all the best intentions, and your better half can’t speak your love language?  In Matthew, Jesus says that church members should forgive each other “seventy times seven times” (18:22), a number that symbolizes boundlessness. I take this as a directive for healthy humans. But what if one isn’t? What if he just can’t reciprocate the way I need him to? Now what?

37 Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.

Matthew 22:37

Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.

1 John 4:8

I think the answer is to love and to take what he can give because something is better than nothing. So, to all of you who don’t have an equal partnership, and a plate of spaghetti is just too much to maneuver through, my advice is to take what you can get and accept what he can give. Put on your game face, be the best YOU you can be, and take the blessings, because life is hard and unpredictable. Don’t waste one precious moment thinking about what you don’t have or how your needs aren’t being 100% met. Instead, focus on what you do have. Count your blessings, name them one by one. I do believe that we will be rewarded in the end.

28 And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:28

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What Keeps Me Awake At Night

I woke up early this morning. I didn’t need to, but after 8 days of school, my body has morphed into school time. School time means that no mater how hard I try, my body refuses to be fooled into going back to sleep.

This morning my mind was filled with goal setting: Marshall Goals, Student Learning Objectives (SLO’s) and what I should make for priorities this year. I don’t know why my brain decided that 6:30 am on a Saturday, was a great time to make such crucial decisions.

In case you have a burning desire to know, our district uses the Kim Marshall Plan which includes an evaluation system based on teacher performance. It is divided into six categories, or domains. The domains include (1) Planning and Preparation for Learning (2) Classroom Management (3) Delivery of Instruction/Monitoring (4) Assessment, and Follow-Up (5) Family and Community Outreach and (6) Professional Responsibilities. Each domain contains 10 standards, in which supervisors rate teachers as Highly Effective, Effective, Partially Effective, or Ineffective for a total of about 60 standards. In theory, each domain, gives teachers and supervisors an opportunity to look at performance and set goals to focus on. Marshall’s rubrics are meant to clearly define criteria to distinguish the Highly Effective teacher from the Ineffective one, and all points in-between. Administrators aim to do 10, 10-minute pop-ins, with a coinciding 10 minute post observation to document progress on a teacher’s chosen goal. Last year, I had 5 classroom observations totaling 50 minutes.

On top of the Marshall goal, teachers are also expected to choose 2 Student Learning Objectives (SLO’s) that are used to target growth and measure student effectiveness. Teachers are expected to make two SMART SLO goals (Specific, Measurable, Actionable, Relevant, and Time Bound) that can measured using data points that are proven reliable.

All lesson plans need to align to Common Core Standards and reporting is done on-line by individual standards. So, not only are teachers being evaluated on an insane amount of standards, but so are children. Most importantly, teacher evaluations are directly linked to the academic success of ALL students.

For both teacher’s and student’s alike, a 4 point scoring system is used. A 4, or Highly Effective status is reserved for truly outstanding performance that meets very demanding criteria very few ratings are in this area. A 3, or Effective status describes solid, expected, professional performance. A 2, or Improvement Necessary indicates that performance has real deficiencies. A 1, or Does Not Meet, is unacceptable and can lead to dismissal unless improved on immediately.

The Marshall Model in particular is not designed to be an “I got ya'” model. However, teachers are perfectionists. They want what constitutes and A and therefore, accept suggestions and generally respond to gentle correction. However, in the world of Marshall Goals, and SLO’s, with 100% of our students expected to meet high demands, many teachers are left feeling deflated.

Fear should not be consuming me at 6:30 am after the second week of school. I know what my strengths are and what my weaknesses are. I know that I am a Highly Effective teacher and nobody can convince me that less than 2 hours of cumulative observations gives my employers a clear picture of what is happening in my classroom and enough information to fairly score me on 60 standards. Although the rubric is designed to create self-reflection, supervisors make the final scoring decisions. This means that my self reflections can be trumped by their perception of what is happening in my classroom. I do have the right to challenge final decisions by showing data. However, they don’t have to provide data that supports their perception of my performance. That is hard for highly sensitive, Type A perfectionists like me.

It used to be that I would leave school for summer vacation feeling like my supervisors noticed and appreciated the dedication and student achievement that was attained. I don’t feel that way any more. Honestly, if I had known 30 years ago what I know now about the evaluation systems for both teachers and students, I think I would have chosen another profession, and that makes me sad, because I truly love what I do and I know in my heart of hearts that I am good at it.

People say that in educations, the pendulum swings from one extreme to another. I wonder when the pendulum is going to swing again, because things need to change. Teachers should not have sleepless nights worrying about end of year evaluation results after the first 2 weeks of school. I’m not sure how, but we need to stand up and demand change. It is time. edweek-pendulum

All Is Well, Mostly

Every summer I make it a priority to get healthy mind, spirit, and body. My husband and children can attest to it. At the end of each school year, I am exhausted to the core, and it takes the better part of the summer to work up enough courage to go another round. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do. It’s just hard on so many levels, and by mid-June there is legitimately nothing left to give.

The first thing I do is sleep. I sleep long and hard. I nap, go to bed early, lay out in the sun soaking up some vitamin D in the sleep zone. It takes me the better part of three weeks to feel human again. It is during this time that I concentrate on exercise, eating right, and doing my daily devotions. By the end of July, I generally start gaining courage. I begin looking at the “Back To School” sections of the department stores, thinking about how I am going to tweak my lesson plans, and what subtle changes I am going to make in my classroom so that I can still find things when I need them.

Some people change their rooms around yearly and I always marvel at that. I’d seriously never be able to find a thing! My room goes back up each year the way I had it the year before with few variations. In fact, I have a pretty good idea that the class I had 8 years ago could walk in my room and find everything that was needed. Actually this makes me smile and brings me comfort. I love my classroom. It is my home away from home.

Change. I hate change. But like all things in life, things move- sometimes backward, sometimes forward. This year will be no different. I am facing a new math program that I am not looking forward to implementing, but I am trying to keep an open mind. I’m going to work a little harder at diversifying, which I think is funny- because it’s just a fancy way of saying “tracking”, which was the practice when I was in school. Teaching has a way of coming around full circle. They just give it a new name.

Change is an ugly word. I know that some people think that it is progressive and healthy, but I hate it. If it were up to me, I’d never change a thing. But my fighting it, isn’t going to stop it. Relationships change, professions change, finances change, and health changes. Maybe change is so difficult because it is unpredictable, and risky: things could get better or they could get worse. For me- I like the conservative route.

Maybe that is why I cling to my faith so much. My belief system is the one thing that remains constant and the promises are the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Sometimes I wonder, “What if I’m all wrong?” But the answer to myself is always, “In the end, I’ll have lost nothing but I have so much to gain.” If my faith has made me a more caring individual with high value systems and even higher standards for myself, then I have lost nothing.

This summer I have been fluctuating between two different studies: one about my attitude and one about important women in the bible who made a difference. I’ve come to a few conclusions. One, how successful the inevitable change is, depends on my attitude. I could go into it kicking and screaming, or I could embrace it as an opportunity to learn and grow- even if what I learn is what doesn’t work. Two, don’t be too critical of other people’s mistakes. Most likely you have or will make a similar one yourself and you don’t want others being too hard on you. Three, sometimes you need to hear that you do something right- even if it is your own self talk. I know where my shortcomings are. I don’t need anyone to point them out to me. What I do need is validation and encouragement. Four, I need to practice meekness. Meekness isn’t weakness. It is the use of controlled, well thought out responses full of wisdom.

So, as I amble on through the “stuff” of life, I am formulating a plan so that I can endure the race of the next year with stamina and class. I am going to gravitate toward those people who truly lift me up and encourage me to be the best me I can be. I am going to give change an honest chance and learn from it regardless of the outcome. I am going to encourage others, with the hope that they will reciprocate, and be okay if they do not. Finally, I am going to be slower to respond so that what comes out of my mouth is controlled and well thought out.

Ultimately, there are always going to be people out there who are going to criticise and notice all of the shortfalls. It is the way of the world. It is my job to keep looking up, keep thinking positively, and surround myself with positive influences. I will keep putting one foot in front of the other by the grace of God, trusting that He will hold me and my family firmly in the palm of HIs great hand.

In this life full of challenges and changes, I’ll take mostly all right.

The Biggest Jerk

I used to take life for granted. I said that I didn’t, but I did. Not any longer.

I have been married to my one and only for 31 years, and over time, we have suffered some agonizing times- ones that quite frankly, many could not hang on through. So, what has been the secret?

Faithfulness. I have been absolutely determined to carry through with a promise before God and our closest friends.

On May 23, 1987 we were joined together as one, promising that we would let any ONE or any THING separate us. We were determined to make a lifelong commitment. To be honest, there have many times when I have tried a lot harder than he has. There have been times when I have felt neglected and taken advantage of. Sometimes he hasn’t been very nice, and there have been times when I have felt like a single parent. There was even a time when I considered asking him to find somewhere else to stay. However, I was stubborn and determined not to give up on what God ordained. I knew that my husband was facing some difficult physical and psychological challenges, and that it was my duty to be his number one support system: to lift him up when he didn’t feel strong enough to lift himself up. I made it my mission to pray him through each day and to encourage him even when I was angry, frustrated, and disappointed.

I figured that if he wasn’t going to take care of himself on his own, I was going to help. One of the first things I did was to take over his medications. In his state of mind, he often didn’t know what day it was, and either forgot to take his meds or accidentally took them two or three times in a day. I started by encouraging him to eat more balanced meals, and drink less soda and coffee. I encouraged exercise by walking with him. Since he wasn’t reading his bible or attending church regularly, I upped the ante for myself and made it my mission to stay prayed up for the both of us. During our quiet walks, with nothing else to interrupt us, I shared what I was learning and what was on my heart. When he didn’t talk, I talked enough for the both of us.

Shockingly, what happened was that MY attitude started changing. What was once meant for HIS benefit, began to benefit ME. I wrote him encouraging notes and left them in his lunch bag. I met him for lunch during my time off, determined to shut my mouth and be a better listener. Gradually, I started to see a change in him, because I was so determined to pour myself and my time into him. I loved on him even when I got nothing in return. I made his favorite meals, watched his favorite movies, and listened to his favorite music. I involved him in decision-making for the children and family finances.

We sought counseling that sometimes made our situation worse. It brought up painful topics that had been suppressed for a long time. If he slipped back into bad practices, it was often with others from his support group. The situation did not repair itself quickly, and I would push through the discouragement, and up my game or continue making my husband’s health and our union my top priority. I was determined not to allow Satan any more opportunities to break down our marriage and our family.

I prayed over and anointed the windows and door jams in my house. We burned and prayed over materials from the Masons. I monitored music, movies, phone, and internet that came into our home closely. I regularly prayed over my sleeping husband and my babies.

Most importantly, I took care of ME, because I was determined to stay as healthy as I possibly could, so that I could take extra care of HIM. I walked, watched what I ate, read the Word, looked for encouragement and wisdom from friends and family, and I lived in secret Hell while I remained focused and faithful to my husband.

Just when things began to get better, our family took more hits. Satan continued to take his best shots. We dealt with deaths, rebellious teenagers, financial hardships, the loss of two jobs, and the challenge of a terminal illness that will eventually take my one and only.

Through it all, I continued to take my marriage vows seriously. I never left him. In my heart of hearts, I could not give up on him because I feared that he would then give up on himself and I couldn’t bear that. I knew that I was his lifeline and I was determined to reconstruct our family on a foundation of faith.

I believe with everything I have, that God will reward me for my faithfulness during a time when I had every reason to walk away. As I look at where we are now, I would not be the person that I am today had I done the easy thing. Instead, I remained faithful to my promises, and am so glad to say that I love my husband today more than ever.  The strange thing is that the tough times made my commitment even stronger.

Dementia may take my husband, but it has also provided me with the opportunity to show my faithfulness and not simply “talk the talk”. The disease that was meant for destruction, has taken my faith to a whole new level and I am a living testimony to all who watch.

My advice: don’t give up when the going get’s tough. Take it as an opportunity to practice “walking the walk” and show God, your family, and friends that you mean what you say. Practice what you preach when life seems impossible and there doesn’t seem to be a way out. It’s easy to be joy-filled when all is going well, but how about when the heat is turned up and you are dealing with great loss and destruction?

So what do you do in the meantime? Participate in intense practice sessions, because no one is exempt from the great manure pile of life. If you are lucky enough to be going through a time of smooth sailing, thank your lucky stars, because you will have your turn for turmoil. Get and stay healthy mind, spirit, and soul. Generate a list of reasons why you love your one and only, so that when the time comes, you can refer to it. Build a list of things that you enjoy doing and eating, because you will need to find your joy without becoming unhealthy when your loved one is. Surround yourself with a group of good friends who you are like, or who you want to be like. Determine yourself to be joy-filled and healthy, because you are the only one you have control over.

More than anything: don’t give up. It’s what Satan wants. Don’t let him find even a crack. He is a liar and a jerk and there is nothing that brings him more pleasure than to destroy marriages and families.

 

 

 

Poppins and a Servant’s Heart

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Ever feel like something exciting and terrifying is in the wind?

This year I have been challenging myself to live a “palms up”, take my hands off the wheel, and see where each day takes me kind of life. Those that know me intimately, know that this is a real challenge. I genuinely love to plan, organize, and sort. I’ve joked that in Heaven I’d like to have a label-maker at my disposal so that I can spend eternity helping my Maker to organize. If I were honest, it brings me more joy than it should.

For vacations, I research and schedule “must-do’s” and “must-sees”. I carry an agenda for my agenda. Honestly, two of my favorite times of the year are “nearly January” when I can start to plug-in important personal dates on the new calendar and “nearly the first day of school” when I get to plug-in important professional dates and events into my school planner. I brew a large pot of coffee, surround myself with snacks, and listen to my favorite musicals while I color code and break in my crisp new calendars. While you may be wondering what kind of medication I need to be prescribed, I sit here with a huge smile on my face. It’s true. All true.

However, as I anticipate the new planner in my mailbox for the fall, I have found myself wondering whether it was time for a CHANGE, which has been terrifying and exciting at the same time. It has dawned on me that I have about thirteen more years before I can dream of retirement. My children are all grown into independent young adults. My husband is stable and enjoying the sweet joys of summer weather and planting projects. Now just might be the time.

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It’s easy to become complacent and believe that life is what it is and that it’s too late to make a change. At 52, change is scary business. In my current profession, I can practically fly on autopilot. Most everything is familiar. I know the expectations and I feel like part of the furniture. But what if there is a blessing that is just waiting to happen if only I took a leap of faith? I have found myself wondering whether the Lord needs to see that I mean what I say?

Twenty years ago, I made a huge decision with my children as my main focus. This Spring I have been thinking that maybe it’s time to make a decision with ME being the priority.

Mary Poppins was originally released the year before I was born, and my mother, an avid Julie Andrews fan was just a year younger than the main character. Mom would serve us medicine singing, “just a spoon full of sugar makes the medicine go down!” and would occasionally tell us to head to our rooms, “spit spot” after watching the musical together on the VCR. I can safely say that we have grown up together.

bb5e255f0f9819a61245e3d859cfb120As a teacher, I have often compared myself to Mary Poppins. I teach with a whole lot of no-nonsense, but there is always an element of fun. I don’t always show all my emotions, but my students know that they are loved, and that together, we will accomplish great things. Over the last 28 years, I have taught over 800 children. That’s a whole lot of lives impacted by my influence and a whole lot of responsibility. I figure that if I teach another 13 years to retirement, I will have taught well over 1000 young people. I’m so glad that while I focus on what needs to be accomplished, I work some good times in.

Mary Poppins Quotes -262 best Mary poppins images on Pinterest

 

So, as I have contemplated the pro’ and con’s of a great change, truly living a “palms-up” life, I have wondered what is best for me, my family, and my future students. What if I close my eyes and jump? What if I walk away from all that I know, can plan on, and what is easy, and take a leap of faith that something might be even better? I would desperately miss those left behind: friendships, long-lasting relationships, familiar families, but as Mary reminds me, it shouldn’t muddle my thinking.

Overall, I know that “all things work together for good to them that love God, and are called according to his purpose” and in the end, I showed God faithfulness and He showed me that I am right where I need to be. Today I thank God for answered prayers and passing the test, because for the record, I would have jumped.