I Wrote This in My Sleep

I blog in my sleep. Seriously.  This morning as I was waking to the sound of the storms, the thunder and pounding rain, I was writing in my head. It’s kind of funny because I sound so genius at 3:00 a.m. in that half-wake, half-sleep state where I know I’m not quiet completely functional, but the words seem to flow. Maybe it’s because my mind is somewhat clear from slumber and hasn’t been clouded by the days happenings at that point.

I used to dream in sign language and still do sometimes. I worked with kids in VA who had hearing impairments. These precious biddies were in my classroom, so I had little choice but to learn to sign and I loved it. I’m rusty, but still can sign fairly well and it comes out in dreams sometimes. Again, I’m quiet fluent in signing conversation in my slumber but let me run into someone in public who is signing and all of a sudden it’s like I have two left hands!

Anyway, this morning as I was blogging in my sleep and trying to somewhat wake myself I asked myself this question: What would you absolutely love to do, if you knew you could support yourself and the kids by doing it? My first answer was, of course, stay in bed and listen to thunderstorms but that probably wouldn’t work. My next answer came quickly and as clear as a bell. Write. I would write.

I know I write my Extra Penny blog (which by now I wish I had named something else but I didn’t so there), but I would write all the thoughts I have all the time! Ok, I take that back, not ALL the thoughts I have all of the time lest I be led away in a snug white jacket that buckles in the back (and white is so not in before Easter), but I would write what goes on in my mind some of the time. Some people think I think too much, I think that I think the perfect amount for me. I think some people don’t think NEARLY enough!

Today what is on my mind is how I have read book after book after book on how we are to detach ourselves from emotions because emotions keep us from experiencing our higher self. I have read how we are supposed to have enough faith so God will give us our abundance. I have read how we are supposed to love without expectation. I have read so many opinions from so many other people that my mind has become overloaded and clouded and my faith has become shaky.

I am an “eat the fish, spit out the bones” kind of girl. I take the lessons I need from the encounters I have and if I am not in agreement with a certain idea, I don’t think it’s wrong, just not right for me at the moment. I may change how I see things later when another lesson is being learned, who knows?! Anyway, with so many books and ideas on how to love, not to love, how to detach, attach, commit, not commit, pray, not pray, work at, not work at and just have faith… with all the ‘stuff’ out there, I have felt myself wanting to scream at God “What do you want???”  In fact, I may have very well done this. The funny thing is, in my quiet time with Him, when I am tired, frustrated, trying to figure out what way is the right way; when I am asking “What do you want?” I hear the faintest whisper, “Do you trust me?” “Yes, God I trust you” “But do you REALLY trust me?” “Yes” “Then just talk to me, spend time with me, and trust me”.

I am a passionate person. I can’t detach from my emotions. I love big, laugh big, hug big. I care for people but have certainly learned a wonderful use for boundaries. I have found what works for me in my relationship with God. It’s so personal. I love books, people, lectures that enhance that, but  when I read things that tell me how I’m ‘supposed to be’ to get what I want in life, I realize there is no one grander than my creator to talk to. If I truly have a personal relationship with Him, accept His guidance in everything (notice I said accept it, not ask for it because it’s already provided) then there is nothing I lack.

You wanna hear the funny thing about this blog? There was no storm this morning. I wrote a completely different blog, and on the last page, my computer rebooted itself and I lost it. I went searching for it because, heaven help me, I didn’t save it early enough and I found this one… unfinished… just waiting for the writer to complete her thoughts in this place.

By the way I don’t believe in accidents, really, or coincidences. I think God brought me here to remind me that I am to spend time with Him today. I’ll rewrite the other later. It wasn’t that great anyway. I trust that’s the message God is sending. I have to believe that or else I’ll want to fling my laptop across the room. :)

Faithfully,

Becky

I'm Stupid. At Least That's What I Thought

                I’m stupid. At least that’s what I thought for the first half of my life; before I realized that I really did have half a brain and that I just thought differently. Please refrain from comment.

               

While growing up I was blessed with two sisters who were both very smart. Neither had to really study and one was even offered the option of passing up a grade. I had to study… a LOT. My precious mother would put spelling words to music for me so I could remember them. I would put vocabulary words and definitions to a rhyme, anything that would help me remember them. I’m not saying now that I think I was stupid, I’m saying that when you grow up thinking differently than everyone else, you feel that way.

                I’m being very candid about something I’ve never talked about before. If you know me, this is nothing new to you. If you are my mother I’ll go ahead and say this is not your fault and had nothing to do with you (that gets you out of reading this…. You’re welcome).

                Going to school in the 70’s and 80’s was torture. I learned at a very young age that when I zoned out it was much better to try to catch up by myself than to raise my hand and ask the teacher to repeat herself and risk being berated for not listening. I would often miss out on what everyone else seemed to get so easily and if I dared ask my neighbor, I was then in trouble for talking (not that I didn’t get in trouble for that anyway, but you get the point). I never, ever remember being taught what consonants were. Seriously. I knew my vowels, but I remember the day the word “consonants” was sprung on me and everyone else knew what that was and I froze.

                I thought I was stupid. I would get horrifically embarrassed. I would get sick. I missed so many days my 4^th grade school year I wasn’t sure I would even pass that grade. The teacher that I had that year made things worse by picking the scab off my weaknesses in front of the class and I swore if I ever taught I would never do that to a child, ever! I forgot things, missed things; my report card said I was in space, and I was called lazy. If you know me at all, you know that I am a far cry from lazy, unless I damn well feel like it which is about two times a year.

                In high school I had an algebra teacher (a coach, by the way) who was showing us an algebraic equation on the board. I took my paper up to him and very cautiously said “I don’t understand…” He said “You just plug it in! The formula… just plug it in!” It made no sense to me. I saw numbers and letters and lines. I’m not dyslexic that I know, but I sure couldn’t plug that in. Many, MANY things I could solve in my head but could not for the life of me tell my teachers how I did it. I could figure out puzzles, solve problems, etc. and do many things but had no explanation for how I could do it. “It just makes sense” was the best explanation I could give. I never cheated, I just learned what worked.

                High School Psychology. MY SAVING GRACE! I loved it! I read it, ate it, drank it! “Really???” you ask. “Really!!!” I say. You see, when someone who is severely ADD finds something that interests them, they hyper focus on it. I absolutely loved psychology. I still do. I love the brain and how it works. Maybe you are starting to see why.

                I always wanted to be a child psychologist and got about as close to that as I can, being a school counselor, while having the schedule I love and not traumatizing my own two kids by staying in school longer than I had to (Mary Abbott, you’re welcome).

                When I was starting graduate school in my late 30’s, for reasons in addition to grad school, I went to a psychologist to be tested for adult ADD. Do you remember the commercial where the woman is trying to conduct a business meeting and all these crazy things are going through her head? That’s me. All the time. For my entire life. Anyway, I go to a reputable Dr. and through the testing. Result time comes and Dr. Orvis (He looked like he hopped out of an Orvis catalog, so that’s what I named him. He doesn’t know that) asks if I have ever had head trauma (does falling out of a treehouse when you’re 4 yrs. old count? Yes, it does) or sleep disorder because that is the lower part of the bell curve in which I fell. There are other areas of another quadrant involved, but needless to say, I was mortified. He said it was amazing that I had come so far in life with such ADD, and that I “must be really intelligent” (seriously, his words, not mine). I left in tears and…. I called Momma. Mom, love her skin, said, “What is that Dr’s name? I’m gonna call him!” I had to reassure her that I was fine and she does not, indeed, need to call the psychologist.

                Why am I telling you this? If you work with children, you have no idea what’s going on inside of their mind. I can’t tell you what I learned in 1^st grade but I can very distinctly tell you what the frog bulletin board that read “Hop Into Spring” looked like… to the right of my desk in the next to last row… yes, in 1^st grade. I can give you details upon details upon details of things that may or may not matter but I have a hard time scheduling out a day without sticky notes.  Maybe you have had this go on with you and felt like you were alone. When we were growing up the labels were so harsh and cruel really. I’m telling you because when we look at children or work with children we think their lives are so carefree. They aren’t. They are struggling with things they don’t want to tell anyone. They don’t want to raise their hand to ask teachers to repeat themselves because they are terrified of being called out and berated. Students really do forget things because that is a classic sign of ADD, not that they don’t care. And it’s not just ADD, many, MANY  disorders have so many signs… do you know what they are? However, they can actually be a plus for children because it makes them learn to think differently. It wasn’t until I went back to graduate school that I realized I wasn’t stupid. I have no idea what my IQ is. It may be low, it may be high. It doesn’t matter and I don’t want to know. I know what comes easily for me and I know how I learn best. I also have empathy for children who learn differently, creatively, more efficiently even.

                I actually had a person I worked for at the time tell me I shouldn’t tell anyone about this because people might make fun of me. Well, to hell with you! People need to know that we all struggle with something and it doesn’t necessarily go away. Kids struggle, adults struggle, we need to try to understand each other. There is no “One way is the right way” when it comes to teaching and/or learning. We need to have compassion and empathy for our children and other adults as well. I get so angry when I hear teachers make comments about kids “pulling one over on me” or “playing it up”. How do you know what a kid is going through? You don’t! I know that you don’t because it’s been over 35 years that I realized I was very different and I assure you, there are people who had no clue. Try a little compassion, a little empathy.

                What is your goal for your child? For yourself? Success? Then don’t argue if it’s done differently than what you would do. Allow for differences, allow for mistakes. We are different. I for one, am really glad. I wouldn’t change a thing. Seriously. Just wanted to share.  And if this saves one person from feeling stupid, it was very much worth coming out of the stupid closet. Hope this helps someone out there.

Look, a squirrel,

Becky

What Do I Do? One School Counselor's Answer

What do I do? Seriously. There are days that I wonder what in the world I need to do, but I’m referring to being asked that question. This past week was National School Counselor’s Week. Most people don’t realize that. Most people don’t even realize what school counselors do. A lot of people will ask me, “So what is it exactly that you do?” I don’t mind. I don’t expect people to know because I didn’t have a clue until I jumped head first into this position roughly three years ago. Like most professions, no class, book, or even internship can prepare you for the real world.

If you were to look at the job description (I’m not sure there really is one, but play along with me here) you would see that we are to spend most of our time in individual and group counseling with the remainder of our time in guidance classes teaching character education lessons. Seems simple enough, right? Remember when I said that I’m not so sure there is a job description? Scratch that. I am absolutely positive we have no job description. But here’s a snippit of what we do:

School counselors and any counselor who works with children help children learn to trust. We have little time to “build rapport” so we have to be very creative and use lots of coloring books, modeling clay, board games, etc, to help the children to understand that we don’t cheat at Candy Land, that we really do listen to what they are saying, and that we believe them. Instead of berating them for wetting their pants, we quietly slip them a bag with fresh clean underwear and pants, discreetly giving them instructions for changing themselves in the bathroom, while trying to talk to them about other really important things, like Sophia the First, or video games to help them keep their dignity instead of them being embarrassed. We are often able to realize that a bruise “that size” couldn’t have been made by your two-year old little sister and we have to make judgment calls that keep us awake at night. We keep snacks for kids we know that don’t get enough to eat, clothes for those who aren’t properly dressed; coats, socks, shoes, gloves, underwear, soap, deodorant, brushes, etc for those who are in need. We talk to parents who are afraid and who are crying because little Johnny just “hasn’t been himself” lately and can we please talk to him? We tutor individual kids during the school day sometimes because they simply cannot function in the classroom for one reason or another. We remove children from situations and let them cool off in our office and give them tips on how to calm down without trying to knock out a class mate or teacher. We work with other schools on school records, transferring students, and other school counselors on transient children whose parents rent-dodge. We work with lawyers, social workers, and cops. Many partner with churches to make sure children have enough food to eat on weekends. Oh, and the testing. I haven’t EVEN touched on testing yet. In fact, I’ll just say that all the testing that’s done, the books that have to be counted in and out every single day, the fact that you feel you should be surrounded by armed guards for 2 weeks in the spring… that? Yeah, usually done by school counselors. School counselors follow up on concerned calls from teachers regarding students with excessive absences, falling grades, or who are constantly falling asleep in class. We make snow-cones on field day J.  Don’t forget class rotations. We teach guidance classes every week in all that free time we have. We are often in charge of things like 504’s, Red Ribbon Week planning, GIVE program planning, Impact Aid cards, and other things that you’re probably saying “What’s that?” to. The high school and even middle school counselors deal with much of this, as well as kids who are on drugs, alcohol, pregnant, dropping out, failing, barely getting by, working and trying to make the grade, getting kids scholarships etc.

With this being just a sample of things that I can come up with off the top of my head in about five minutes flat, why in the world do I think I have the best job ever?  How do I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is exactly what God wants me to be doing right now? I know because of the bitty that starts back to class and turns around to run back and hug me and say “I love you!” after a rough session; because of the student that comes in and sits down with tears in their eyes who says “You’re the only person I can talk to”; because of the parent who emails saying, “We need help, can you help us?” I know because of the anonymous sweet notes I find in my box. We all do this because of parents who trust us, and children who need us. We do this because we can see beyond the here and now and into the future, past the tear filled eyes and low grades. We can see the potential, the light, and the hope. We know that sometimes it simply takes having one person believe in you to help you believe in yourself.

So many of these kids may never remember me or anything about me, but I promise you I will never forget them. Honestly though, I think I am blessed by these kids so much more than I ever bless them. From these children I learn strength, forgiveness, persistence, and not to let a situation become a handicap, or an excuse.  From this job I have learned that wealth has nothing to do with money and joy comes from knowing you have helped someone whether they will know it or not. I simply cannot imagine doing anything else. Period.

A belated Happy School Counselors Week to my fellow school counselors. I work among the best and am blessed by their enthusiasm, compassion, and genuine love for the children. I enjoyed time with many of these wonderful people last week at our counselors’ symposium, and I always know I can look to any of them on those days that I am tired and I wonder, “What do I do?”

Thoughtfully,

Becky

Biscuits from Scratch and Other Tragic Traditions

When I was a young married stupid person, I tried to make homemade biscuits.  Ok, they weren’t TOTALLY made from scratch, they were made from a mix, but I had to add something, I remember, and then roll ‘em up and put them on a cookie sheet, etc. etc. I had seen my mom and grandmothers all make biscuits from scratch while I was growing up, so how hard could this be, right? Hockey Puck! Seriously, Hockey puck! Well, four hockey pucks to be exact. That’s what I ended up with. I was supposed to get about 12 biscuits out of the batch. I got four. What happed to the rest of the dough? It ended up all over my shoes, the floor, the cabinets… you get the picture. Even the salt from my tears didn’t add any flavor to the four pathetic crunchy rocks I got out of the batch.

My Mamaw tried to teach me how to knit once, or do something with some kind of needle. It was a large needle, not a knitting needle (so I guess it wasn’t knit), but I held the needle between my teeth while trying to do whatever profound maneuver she was showing me and I bit down. Yep. The needle broke off in my tongue. For those of you who just held your mouth in a funny way, it wasn’t too bad, I pulled it out as I swear I heard “Love her skin” and we put everything away. I’m pretty sure that was the last thing Mamaw tried to teach me.

Are you sitting down? I can’t fry chicken. Seriously. I can’t fry anything!  Bless my heart! I tried once to fry, well, I don’t remember what it was, but that grease will SPATTER! I gave up and never did it again. Are you still sitting down? I can’t make sweet tea. I know, I know!! I’m so sorry! Yes, I really am from here! But I can’t make sweet tea. I have never in my life made sweet tea. When I want sweet tea I go to Whitt’s (if you’re from here, you know what I mean) or Lawler’s.

What is it with these sad confessions of traditions gone horribly wrong? Today I had many flashbacks as my mom came over to teach my daughter how to thread her sewing machine. Mom gave it to Mary for Christmas and I may or may not have been able to follow the directions to thread it, but I thought that would be a great Mamaw/Mary thing for them to do. Mary seems a little excited, but a little reluctant about sewing. I told her about the times Mom tried to teach me to sew. I used to cut out patterns and I would make these little square purses that Mom told me would be perfect to carry around the house. I wasn’t talented in the way of homemaking if you haven’t picked up on that yet. It’s ok. I’m aware. Love my skin and Bless my heart both.

As I watched my mom and daughter fiddle with the sewing machine I had all these memories flooding me of when I was learning to sew (and no, I can’t, but I did learn a tiny bit). Memories flooded of all the time I spent with my grandparents that went faster than anyone could have ever impressed upon my young mind that it would. I had no idea that I would want them back so badly; to ask them again to show me how to cook, how to thread a needle without giving myself a temporary speech impediment, or what it was like living through the depression.

I used to sleep in the floor of my Mamaw’s bedroom. She would always, always tell me the story of Flopsy, Mopsy, and Peter Cottontail as I would doze off. I would always wake in the middle of the night and no matter what time it would be, I would call out to her, “Mamaw?” “Yes” “Are you asleep?” “No, I’m just resting my eyes.” I was convinced she never slept; she always just rested her eyes. Never would she allow me to think I had bothered her. It was ok to call out to her anytime.

It has recently really hit me, and I am impressing on my kids, that passing down tradition is so much more than passing down a trade or skill; it is about spending time with someone now because one day you will physically ache to have them back. It is about something that truly cannot be put into words, but into actions, memories, and flashbacks. Yes, it is about learning to can food, sew, cook, and so many other things, but mostly it is about time that you don’t get back.

I haven’t had grandparents for years and I miss them so much. If I could thank them for anything they ever gave me, it would be the time they took. It would be the way I never felt like an inconvenience to them. And I tell my kids often they have the best grandparents ever, on both sides, who offer so much time and talent to them… and yes, my kids occasionally hear “Bless their heart” themselves. After all, look at their mom, love her skin.

To Mamaw, Papaw, Granny, Granddaddy, and Mom,

Thank you, infinitely, 

Becky

Gargling Peanut Butter II

(View previous blog) I just found that Mr. Jim McCorkindale, the principal to whom I lovingly referred in my blog post today, passed away a few years ago. It seems surreal to me. I count myself among the many blessed to have known and worked with such a light among people. Because of his confidence and trust in me, I "thought I could" too. Because of him, so many children and adults became so much more. What a beautiful legacy, Mr. M.

Gargling Peanut Butter

I began teaching nearly 22 years ago in 1992. Yes, I was 7. ha. When I began my career as a new stupid teacher (no, you new teachers are not stupid. I was.) I was amazing! Seriously! At least I thought I was. I worked for an utterly awesome principal who made us all feel as though we were the best teacher in the entire world and we couldn't wait to prove it! We would come in early, stay late, do whatever needed to be done to make sure our babies learned whatever needed to be learned. The school was in a rather needy area, but I have always loved teaching in areas such as this, as the children appreciated every little thing you did for them

One morning Mr. McCorkindale, my principal, and I had a post-observation meeting. He complimented me on how I was so positive with the children and said, "Keep being positive with these kids because you know, children won't be 'good for nothing'". We laughed and I asked him if there was anything I needed to do differently. He replied, "Becky, if you can stand on your head and gargle peanut butter and those kids learn from it, go ahead!" I loved that man! On my way out of his office I turned to him and said, "Mr. McCorkindale? Thank you for always being so positive with your teachers... because we won't be 'good for nothing' either!" 

Well, I never did stand on my head and gargle peanut butter but I did do lots of fun things. Those were the days we did "units". If you've taught long enough you know what I'm talking about. You could do a week on apples. "Apples?" You ask. Yes. You would study Johnny Appleseed, read about apples, write about them, study poetry, measure them, weigh them, graph them, cook with them (using measuring and cookbooks) math, science, etc. You get the picture. You could incorporate everything across the board! We still had a reading, math, science, and social studies curriculum but you would use those as supplements if you wanted. I even did a dinosaur dig my first year in the schoolyard because they were going to tear up the grounds anyway. We used real bones (not dinosaur bones, cattle bones... if you were one of my students, I'm sorry. I lied.)  We learned about paleontology, and fossils. It even made the local news. I taught first grade, by the way. But we all were... wait for it.... creative.

After teaching a few years I moved back home and married and had my own children. I stayed home for a while and after my divorce, was in utter and complete shock when I re-entered the teaching world. There are many reasons for this, but I think the saddest part of this is causing so many passionate teachers to choose other careers. Something is terribly amiss here! Teachers go into teaching because they want to share a passion for learning! I love being around passionate people even if I'm not so passionate about the same things. Passionate people ignite passion in others the same way creative people ignite creativity in others. You can’t KEEP that from happening!

As you may know I am no longer teaching, but am counseling now. I watch some of the most amazing teachers day in and day out struggle to keep up with all the latest "scientific" proof of what works best with teaching our children. I understand that research proves some things, but if you've ever conducted research, you know that research can prove anything you want it to (insert everyone's argument). But here's the thing to me... teaching may be a science to the lawmakers, but it's an art to the teachers and you cannot change that. You cannot take a SCRIPT and make teachers passionate about teaching and make students passionate about learning.

I was (there really is no "was" to this) severely ADD growing up. Yes, I was tested as an adult, there is no joke to it, it's horrible, and it's very real. I have no idea how I managed to get as far as I did in life.... wait... yes, I do. I creatively figured out how I learn best. I didn't have to learn the exact same way as everyone else. And just as we should not expect all children to learn the exact same way, why the hell should we expect all teachers to teach the same way? We are sucking the life out of men and women who truly do not teach, but inspire children to love to read, write, calculate, research history, conduct science experiments and so on and so on! When we watch someone love something we want to love it to! When we hear robotic, monotone, scripted, information presented in a way that even the presenter is reluctant to offer, we don't buy it. Even kids are smart enough to figure this out.

I realize this probably won't change anything. I work for an amazing principal now and my job is different than the teachers to a vast degree, so I can't complain about what I am doing, but I do wish the days of passionate teaching, of "if you can stand on your head and gargle peanut butter and those kids learn from it" were still here. I think we would see more students on fire. I think they would crave information, education, and learning. I think if we all just shared our passion and talent in ways we are gifted, we could so much more easily pull the same out of these children.

To you new young teachers... stay stupid. :) Stay passionate! And thank you for choosing to enlighten our young ones. And if you gargle peanut butter for a lesson, let me know. I want to be there for that one.

Becky Wilkenson

January 25, 2014

Albert Einstein — 'Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.'

Goodbye 2013 ~ You taught me well… or not so much, I’m not sure.

Goodbye 2013 ~ You taught me well… or not so much, I’m not sure.

                I’m not a big “Hate to see you go!” kind of girl when it comes to chiming out the old and bringing in the new, especially as it comes to a new year. In fact I sometimes have New Year’s Eve plans and sometimes I don’t. I rarely stay awake until midnight because my body is stupid and wakes at 4:30 a.m. no matter what the previous night has held.  I tend to be one of those annoying perky morning people. At least that’s what my kids tell me.

                As 2013 comes to a close I thought I would teach a lesson on New Year’s Resolutions, or “reservations” as some of my students called it. Now that I think about it, there are definitely reservations about making resolutions. I haven’t always made resolutions and I don’t really like to; they just give me something to think about quitting. I used to jokingly give up drugs or smoking because I never do those things so they were easy. Seriously though, while teaching my little lesson on resolutions I simply connected it to making goals to being a better person; making them do-able, measurable, specific, and being accountable to someone who could help you if you needed the help. I felt like a total hypocrite because I can’t remember the last resolution that I specifically made that I kept.

                I told my students that with each New Year I envision that by the time the year closes, my life will look totally different. And then I ask “And do you think it does?” and as if on cue they all ring out, “YES!” and I shout back loudly, “NO!”. This makes them giggle. But I follow it up with something at first even I found myself proud to say. “My life may not look that different, but *I* am surely different.”

                This doesn’t require much explanation to you, I know, and I have so many very deep, precious students that understand as well, although I did explain how we all continue to grow, no matter our age; but the words felt good coming out of my mouth. “I am surely different”.

                Never will I be so bold or stupid enough to say that I have it all figured out. Never will I again pray for patience, either, but I am continually amazed at the way that I grow each year. It really isn’t in ways that I think I will; eating less potato chips, running more, planning ahead, keeping my desk clean at work so that I can find that note regarding that important phone call, or even remembering to change the air filters before they get totally nasty. I always grow in ways that make me roll my eyes at God and say, “Oh THAT’S what you were trying to tell me?? Couldn’t we have done this in a simpler way??” But I am never, ever disappointed. I think that’s how God works. He shows us what we need, not what we think we need.

                So some valuable lessons I learned in 2013 that I think God should have just sent a quick note, but I probably wouldn’t have learned them so well:

I learned that I don’t have to neglect taking care of myself to make sure everyone else is cared for. In fact, by doing so I had nothing left for anyone. By taking time for myself and pampering myself a little, I feel great and am ready to be ‘on’ for whatever and whomever might need me.

I learned that my intuition about things, people, and situations is usually pretty spot-on. I really can save myself a lot of time here by listening to myself and not trying to make things something they aren’t. Once is a mistake, twice is a choice. Listen up, woman!

Speaking of disappointment, I learned that even good people are human and will unknowingly and unintentionally disappoint us. Compassion is necessary, forgiveness a must.  I have been forgiven for disappointing many, myself.

I have learned that I truly am content with myself and my situation. It’s funny that society seems to think we are supposed to be paired to be happy. I do sometimes long for companionship, and pray that it is done in only a way that God is in the center, and I have actively searched for that, but I have stepped back and realized I have a pretty sweet deal here! I have amazing kids who are independent and well-mannered. I have a nice home and can pay my own bills and take care of us. I clean up after myself. That’s it. Myself. Hmmm not too shabby!

Speaking of kids, I realize that by NOT being able to give my kids everything they want, I have actually done them a huge favor. My kids are respectful, they work hard, we talk about everything (I swear Liam wants to talk about things more than I do, if you can believe that!), they do their own laundry, and they can both (sort-of) cook! Well, you have to give them a break; their example of a chef is pretty minimal. I learned that life’s tough lessons actually teach us the true value of life itself; love, communication, laughter, family.

I learned that being alone is absolutely different than being lonely. The demands of my job and raising kids have taught this social butterfly that alone, quiet time is something to be cherished.

I learned that prayers do not have to sound like Chevy Chase in Vacation. I never really thought that, but I used to pray formally, at least until a couple of years ago. My talks, my communication with God have become rather informal and I love that. I feel like, no, I know He really is my heavenly dad and I talk to Him like such. I know that He can handle that my faith in Him, and whatever it is He is up to, seems to waiver sometimes. I know He can handle that I sometimes get angry and impatient. I know that because He created me, He knows what I am made of and values every bit of me.

I learned that other peoples’ decisions, thoughts, choices, and opinions have nothing to do with me. Now this was a hard one! We all tend to take things personally and I have been the chief of all sinners where this is concerned, but over time I realize (and this is ongoing) that other peoples’ stuff is their stuff. Not mine, not even if they try to make it mine, or convince me that it is because of me. It’s theirs; their choice, their life, their mind, their opinion. Not mine. It’s truly a relief when that sinks in.

I learned that I will not go without coffee. Don’t ask. It wasn’t pretty.

I learned that when someone says “That’s just what I heard” to totally dismiss whatever they just said.

I learned my kids watch everything I do and listen to most of what I say, contrary to what I have thought.

I learned it’s quicker to do what I’m dreading than to sit around dreading it.

I learned that most people are good and decent people, but there are people who will gladly take advantage if you let them. I can love… from a distance.

I learned to say “no” or “not now” and mean it without feeling guilty.

Finally, I learned that when something is on my heart or in my head I need to write it and do it quickly. I love to write, and let’s face it, it’s cheaper than therapy!

Bring it 2014! I just KNOW my life will look totally different by the end of next year. Or not. But I know I surely will be J

Happy New Year and Goodbye 2013! You will be remembered, but not missed J

Becky Wilkenson

December 28, 2013