Skip to main content

maybe this year will be better than the last.

because i am an eternal optimist, i can't leave that title hanging.
it was a good year.
ish.
december i could have done without.
and some other stuff in between.
but I have a job and beautiful kids and a fabulous husband and a home and friends and food.
and i can't believe it but i am going to quote my sister.
"even my problems are good problems"
i'd list a few but they seem pretty trivial.
just in the last few weeks, Shaun has gotten a phone call 3 times about the passing of a family member.
first his MeMe.
then an uncle, and barely after he got out of his funeral clothes on New Year's Eve, the phone rang again. His aunt.
3 funerals, 3 ear infections and one giant hole in the bathroom wall ( thanks to a slow leak and rotten drywall).
Let's just say it's been a long December.

Yesterday I told Owen, "Happy New Year".
He was puzzled and asked why I said that. I tried to explain that it was the first day of a new year. Still blank stares....
then I told him that this will be the year that he goes to Kindergarden, that his team finally wins a soccer game, that this is the year he will learn to read, this will be the year that he turns 5,etc. And his face started to light up with hope for what is in store.
I didn't write a long list of resolutions.
But I do like to "reset" a bit for the new year.
I hope that I finally get it together and do all the things that I was supposed to do all along.
Lose weight, organize my closet, publish something, start serving in some kind of significant way,I could go on but won't.
There is something in us that wants to be better.
That hopes that there is more.
That hopes that this is our year.
That we can be a little bit closer to who we were meant to be.
To who God created us to be.

What I love about New Years is that we remember that hope.
That for atleast a little while we believe it.
We go to the gym.
We go to church.
We believe that we can be better.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

multiple choice

As I write I am procturing a test ( yes on a Saturday, and no I am not getting paid for it.) The room is silent. The only noises I hear are pencils scratching on papers and pages turning. If I listen closely enough I swear I can hear their brains turning. I have always been a good test-taker. I would still regularly brag about my SAT scores if it wre socially appropriate to do so(or an actual indicator of anything meaningful). There is something comforting about multiple choice. (well as long as you don't have the crappy all of the above or none of the above choices...just the classic A, B, C, D variety). There are parameters. Multiple choice means you have options. The right answer is right in front of you, and all you have to do is find it. Even if you don't actually know which one the right answer is there are usually clues, it can be narrowed down or worked backwards. Even a blind guess is likely to be right 25% of the time. These aren't bad odds. All you have t...

Turning the question

My school has been sending me to some inquiry training. The “i” word has been thrown around since my education classes in college. It is one of those things that is really good as a concept but kind of hard to pull off in the classroom well. For lots of reasons. But the big one number is because teachers are reluctant to let go of the control. To let the kids loose with a concept and see where they end up. Let them discover, own it and share out all on their own. Without intervening. Then push them a little bit further and clear up any misconceptions that they are holding onto before they slip out your door. This is supposed to be the most meaningful way for a kid to learn. For them to discover rather than memorize. One of the other problems with inquiry and science is that kids have stopped learning how to ask questions. My son bombards me with whys all day long. Why are owls nocturnal? (which comes out a lot more like “not-turtles”) Why do I have to take a shower? Why ...

nickel and dime

Recently my son wanted to buy something that he had saved up his money for. A lava lamp. And he had the cash for it. The only problem was that most of it was in change. So he filled his pockets with about ten pounds of coinage and we headed to the store. Now, the easiest thing would be for me to put it on my debit card. With the few other items I of course needed. But I wanted him to own every bit of the process (and learn a thing or two about sales tax). So I glared at the people behind us who were muttering as my sweet guy counted out his change. All 14.99 + tax of it. And he proudly took home his new lava lamp carrying it oh so carefully to the car. Because it was his. He had bought it with his own hard earned cash. One quarter, dime and nickel at a time. I haven’t bought anything more than a cup of coffee with change in years. But in high school and college I used to do it all the time. I’d raid my dad’s change box and buy pizza. I’d gather up all the change in my cup...