Why is Love a 4-Letter Word?

            I don’t think anyone would disagree that our energy levels tend to go up when we are around those we love. I have had more than one person tell me that I am perkier when my chicks are here in the nest. Even if the kids are running around with their friends, if they are “here”, I seem to have a little more spring in my step and be able to breathe a little easier.  I don’t know if this comes from the fact that they are literally a part of me, or simply that I love them so much that their presence is calming to me (ok, most of the time!), nevertheless, it is so.

            As I was taking Mary Abbott to volleyball this morning I glanced over at her and said, “I feel sorry for people who don’t have a Mary and Liam.” She didn’t really say anything. They hear me say these things all the time. She just smiles a little. She was barely awake. That’s ok. My kids are both pretty expressive, each in their own way. My family is big on “I love you”’s. We always have been. Growing up we always said this when we were leaving or going to bed or hanging up the phone. We have been accused of saying it so much that it doesn’t mean anything. Let me address this right now: If I don’t love you, I won’t say it. Period. Give me a break! We dealt with loss at a young age and we are wise enough to know there are no moments guaranteed other than this one. Why withhold a loving word? Why save it for special moments? Because it will mean more if we don’t say it often? I disagree. Here is my take on the “L” word that people are so afraid of using.

           

            There are many types of love. In the Christian world I was raised hearing about Eros, Agape, and Philos. I’m focusing mostly on Agape and Philos (I’ll leave the Eros to you all as it seems to not be working out for me at the moment). People who know me know that I do all things big. I laugh big, love big, care big. I don’t do much very small. If I’m in, I’m all in. If I am getting to know you I’ll probably keep you at arm’s length and when I figure you’re ok then you get to cross the great threshold into Becky’s world and I love you. Period. As a friend, companion, whatever! Now, that does not mean that I am a sucker or door mat. Nor does it mean I want to marry you. I’m sorry, but I just had a little eye twitch there… the thought of cleaning up after yet another person makes me cringe. Companion for travel and good times? Sure! I have to cook for you?!!? No way! But for the most part, I love you and will do what I can to let you know that and care for you. That’s just how I am. I realize that most people are more cautious and that I am gravely misunderstood. I hate that, but it is what it is.

            I haven’t always been so open. For years I was very scared of people. No one knows this and I am being very candid here, but after my first divorce, I was so afraid of being hurt again that I had my precious few friends and that was all I needed. I then married again and after some sticky things and some friends who turned out not to be friends at all, I found myself closing off again. I can honestly tell you that it’s easy to hide in your house or your classroom or office and look really, really busy to keep people at bay. God forbid that anyone ever get close to me to hurt me again. But you know what I realized was happening? I wasn’t happy. I was lonely. I was sad. And I knew that I had a lot of love to give and I *needed* love from people.

            So what’s a girl to do? I had to start making myself say yes. I had to start making  myself get to know people, take risks, go out and have fun, and yes, even have my heart broken by people I hoped would be friends and even interests. Because here is what I have learned: You can sit at home in isolation, literally or figuratively, and hurt and the healing of all the brokenness that you have had will be the only company you keep, or you can get out and meet people and all of a sudden you are hearing the precious words “Me too!” or “I’ve been there, if you need to talk!” and you realize that you aren’t alone and your heart feels lighter and you smile and laugh more. And you realize love doesn’t mean all or nothing.

            What does this have to do with my children and the people in my life that I love? Everything. I don’t see love as something to be “in”, it is something you do. I see love as something that just is and it is all around and it is in everyone to be discovered on a daily basis. I see it waiting to be brought out in those who feel hurt, scathed, angry, broken, and alone. I see it in those who are too shy to speak out. I see it in those who seemingly have it all together that you couldn’t imagine they would be lacking for anything (no one has it all together). Why do we wait for special occasions to love people? Or let them know they’re loved? Why can’t we just love each other and allow ourselves to be loved? Why is the “L” word such a 4-letter word? Ok, no jokes there, it IS a 4-letter word, but it’s a GREAT 4-letter word. Why do we make it a bad one? Why does it have to be dreaded, feared, or ran from? Can “love” really be overused?

            I understand that people don’t go throwing that word around and I understand why. I tell my family, friends, and of course my kids that I love them. I mean it. I always do. I simply cannot imagine lying on my death bed saying, “Gee, I wish I hadn’t loved so much.” Not me. Maybe someone else will. Not me. The people around me, whom I love so much, give me energy. They make me smile. They make me crazy sometimes, but that’s part of the package and I love that, too. I would much rather be open to the risks, than closed off. Being closed off assures nothing more than…well…being closed off. Open to risks? There is so much out there to love; so many people who need it, so many people to share it. So glad God opened my eyes to it!

Lovingly,

Becky

Reflections from the Greenway

            I love nature! I really do! I don’t love it when it’s too hot, too cold, or too buggy. Otherwise I absolutely love being outside. Many of you know that my back porch is my oasis with a good book, a cup of coffee, or a glass of wine. I prefer a walking trail to the treadmill, and though it may be 90 degrees, I will have my roof open and windows down just to feel the wind.

            This morning I went for a long walk at the greenway and had many reflections. Some were shallow simple reflections while others were somewhat deep. I often skip taking my phone and the music when I go to the greenway because the birds, crickets, the stream, and “Good mornings!” are a harmonious symphony to me to which nothing else compares. I also seem to smell the wildflowers and honeysuckle a little better.

            Some of my simpler reflections were things such as:

1.      If you aren't feeling particularly social or happy, go to the greenway. Most everyone will smile and bid you a good morning J.
2.      No one cares what you look like; whether or not you have on make-up, a sloppy bun, whether or not you have the thigh-gap (who really has this? And those of us who don’t are *that* much closer to being a mermaid… and who doesn’t want to be a mermaid? We win!).
3.  Everyone is there for themselves; to be in touch with themselves or with nature, or God. No one is there to judge you.
4.    You shouldn’t forget your water. You may become cranky. Just sayin’.
5.   The greenway should smell like nature; grass and wildflowers and perhaps faintly of Tide or Downy due to clean clothes, but never like heavy perfume or cologne (ok that was a small rant).
6.    Although I still have a quick pace, I walk more than I run now. Sometimes I do both but when I walk I can take in more nature and enjoy more. When women run past me I secretly cheer them on with a “You go girl!” because I know it’s not easy.
7.  Coconut oil makes a great, lightly scented body moisturizer/natural spf. :) Really.

These were just a few of my simpler thinkings as I ambled along this morning. I try to reign in my brain because many times as I take these long walks, I make them “prayer walks”. I have to purposefully remove myself from people, media, etc. to have quiet time. Sometimes my prayer walks are simply to thank God for so many things, people, and situations, specifically, that I realize I take for granted. Sometimes I talk to him in my head about what’s going on and ask what I need to listen for to help make things better. Today I was especially thankful for so many things and found myself realizing how often we look for there to be something to “fix”.

      Because my brain works the way it does (and thank God he knows it, made me this way, and has a great sense of humor so He just rolls with me on this) I ended up thinking about how far I’ve come (and yes, how far I have to go) with letting things go. I am not a control freak about things per se. I am actually pretty laid back about most things. Where I AM a control freak is in thinking about things and trying to “figure them out and make them make sense” when sometimes things are just simply nonsensical. I don’t like that. I don’t like it at all. I have been known to say “It’s just magic” if something doesn’t fit quiet right into my thinking because even magic is something and makes more sense than not making sense. Did that make sense? It did in my head.

Anyway, I had sort of an epiphany and my epiphanies seem to be long and drawn out, so I’ve been facing this one for a while (dear friends of mine will have to remind me of it in a month or two because I often forget them as well), but here it is: It isn’t our job to make sense of everything. Are you wowed? You should be wowed. My close friends are saying “By George, I think she’s got it!” For me to come to accept this is remarkable. Deep thinking is what I have done since birth and will continue to do, and figuring things out is something I've always done well. I think that’s what makes me love my job and very good at my job, but it has also made me and others close to me absolutely insane at times. It has cost me friendships and relationships and many sleepless nights and a lot of laughter. Why? Because our creator did not put me or anyone else here to figure it all out.  (Insert “BAM”)

I tell Liam and Mary Abbott often, “It’s my job to be your mom. I’m here to make sure you are fed, clothed, educated, etc.”  I realize that God made me on purpose. He made *us* on purpose and it is His job to take care of us. It is HIS  job to figure everything out. My sister has a little girl going through her “terrible twos” (I didn't have the heart to tell her it goes on until 3 or 4) but I think we do that to God throughout our entire life. We try to fix things, maneuver things, manipulate things to get what we want and as we lay exhausted on the floor at our worst, after having yet another temper tantrum our Father picks us up and holds us close and asks, “Are you finished? Now hand me your life, all of it, and I’ll take care of it. I created it and I know how to fix it.” We, as His children have to hand it to Him. All of it. Most of us have had a child bring us something to fix but they have refused to let it go. We can’t fix what they won’t let go. Neither can He. We must face that we can’t do it. Not that we can’t do it alone, but dear God we can’t do it. Period. He does.

A dear and wonderful man spoke at church yesterday and he kept saying that he refused for years to give God credit for all the opportunities that He had placed in front of him. I think we so often cruise along in life forgetting these things. Maybe that’s when we unplug, leave the music at home, take a long walk and simply thank Him for having it figured out for us. Thank Him that we don’t have to because God knows most of us can’t make sense of things anyway.

So, take a walk, smile at people, say “good morning”, and wear God on your face. Take your water bottle… it’s warm out there. And don’t think too much. It’s not your job.

Happily,

Becky

July 7, 2014

*Photo: Madison, AL Official Website

http://www.ci.madison.al.us/index.aspx?NID=681

What are You Worth?

What are you worth? Are you worth what’s in your bank account? Your 401K? Are you worth the sum of everything you've ever been told about yourself? I feel like sharing this because I think so many people, especially young ladies and women for some reason, are afraid of knowing their value, their worth.

           

Some time ago I wrote about being so much more than a number; a number on a scale, a social security number, a bank account number, a test score, etc. You get the point. We are so much more. Deep down in our core I truly believe we are so much more, but why are so many of us afraid of accepting that? Or at least afraid to acknowledge it?

           

Being raised in the south (insert a “woohoo!”) I was raised very proper. I was raised to deflect and brush off too many compliments lest I look vain. Most people do. Unfortunately this often comes across as being self-debasing, devaluing, and unloving. Recently I had a conversation with someone that began with me saying , “Don’t doubt for one second that I know my worth, my value…” and it felt really good to say but I want to say to my daughter, my son, my sweet young thing I am so humbly mentoring, and everyone else who has a hard time being able to see your worth, what it means and what it does not.

           

When you know what you are worth, your value, you know that you were created like no other human being on the entire planet. You know that you deserve to be respected for your mind, your race, your religious and spiritual beliefs, your flaws, your sense of humor as quirky as it may be, and what makes you tick. When you know your worth you value yourself; you value your body and take care of it and expect others to value it as well. You take care of yourself and put yourself together; not because of what others will think, but because it makes you feel good.

           

I read a quote the other day that tickled me, “Never go out in sweats because you may run into an ex or an enemy”. I do believe in putting yourself together for a few reasons, 1) I never want my children or my significant other to be embarrassed of me 2) I may run into my past 3) I may run into a future 4) A little lip gloss and cute shoes can go a long way in making a girl feel really awesome!

           

Anyway, back to our worth…  When you know your worth you don’t allow others to treat you like an option. You keep your head high in the face of adversity, but also allow yourself to feel sadness, anger, and hurt because being human is how we were created. Abusing or using others is never ok, however because you see the value in others and respect that as well.

                       

Knowing that you have value and great worth never means that you are better than anyone. It only means that you know your own story, have walked your own journey, cried your own tears, and awakened to the sound of your own laughter to learn that you are beautiful and you see the beauty in others and want to learn about their journey as well. It is loving differences, diversity, and seeing the hope where others see hopelessness.  I truly believe that when you learn who you are and see yourself for what God has created you, well, first of all you see that He has a serious sense of humor, but you also see others as His as well. You see everyone and everything as being “on purpose” and nothing as a mistake or coincidence.

            When you truly come into yourself you have a gate instead of walls. You lovingly let people into your lives and if they don’t value you for who you are, you lovingly let them leave.  And sometimes you realize you have made the mistake of not valuing others as well and you realize you still have a lot to learn, which is what makes this all so beautiful. Isn't all of life a process?

            So, if someone compliments you for your clothes, hair, shoes, say “Thank you” and then hush (by the way that’s a great way to learn how to accept compliments).  You don’t have to tell them that you got them at a bargain basement sale or argue that you would look better but “oh, for the humidity!” You know your worth. You were created like no other. And as my son reminded me not too long ago, “Mom, He knows how many hairs are on your head. You were created on purpose”. YOU were created on purpose. Your worth? When you know it, realize it, cherish it, and live it, others will see it in you as well. Make sure you see theirs.

On purpose,

Becky

June 29, 2014

Happy Father's Day, Mom!

            Wow! Has it really been over three months since I posted a writing? I write in my head all of the time! Probably a good thing all of that doesn't come out on the keyboard. Nonetheless, with Father’s Day upon us I have been thinking about a realization that hit me a few years ago; I had no one for whom to buy a Father’s Day gift. My father passed away years ago, as did my step-dad, and I was divorced. I did have the kids get their dad Father’s Day gifts, but that was different. It was strange. Not sad as much as it was just strange.

            Today is the anniversary of the day my dad passed away. I’m not sad really. It happened 38 years ago. Of course I miss him and think about him often, but with Father’s Day on Sunday, I wanted to say Happy Father’s Day… to Mom. I have been a single mom for 9 years now and although my kids’ father is still very much in the picture and we are very amicable with one another, my mom didn't have the same luxury of having the help I do. I am not making this a sad post, so don’t grab your tissue box just yet. I just realize that in those years of raising us alone, my mom truly was our mom and dad, and I am here to tell you that that is probably harder than anything else in the world you can be.

            So, why am I writing this and posting it instead of quietly calling and thanking her? For a couple of reasons. 1) If you know me, you know I would snot cry through the entire conversation with my mother, warranting her to ask me, “Are the kids with you?” actually meaning “Are you about to go postal and do I need to get over there?” and 2) Because if you had a single parent for any amount of time, you need to realize that the double duty they served was a far cry from easy, painless, and thoughtless.

So, Mom, I realize now that there was never, ever a night that you slept soundly after Dad died. I realize that you worried about everything from the shape the house was in; to the food we ate, to our relationships at school. I know the very person you wanted to talk to about everything in the world was gone. I know that you threw yourself into helping other people because you knew that was the way you could cope with the heart-break of losing your best friend. I saw you love bigger and deeper than you realize you probably could ever love and it prepared me to do the same, if I ever needed to. And I did. And I do. I watched you sit back and let us learn our own lessons, as painful as they were, while I’m sure you wish you had someone to talk to, someone to back you up. You did an amazing job with us. You taught us to be independent, strong, educated women because “You never know when you might have to support yourself” and we all have had to. And we all can. Thank you. You said you might have to break the knee caps off the love of my life…. Thank goodness you didn't and probably wouldn't have, but that’s what a dad does. It was funny and we laughed, but thank you for making us laugh even when our hearts were breaking. You picked your battles with us helping us learn that not everything in life is life or death. We watched you decide to pick yourself up and travel the world, teaching us that we do not, absolutely do not lie down and die in bitterness and dread when life doesn't turn out the way we planned (and it never really does).

In all of the things I watched over the years of you being our mom and dad, I learned and little did I know, prepared to be the same to my own. My situation is a bit different. I don’t know if it’s better or worse being single by choice or not, but I know this: you made me a better mom, dad, person because you had a strength unequaled. You are one of the tiniest women I know, but your grace, your love, your determination are admired by all… especially me. I know that I can never come close to being what you are, but I thank you for the lessons you have taught me, especially the ones you weren't even aware.

While Dad made his mark here on this big beautiful earth, don’t ever doubt that you have made, and continue to make things beautiful everywhere you go. You touch souls and hearts. You create laughter and fun (you can thank me later for not inserting all the stories about the trips in here… or maybe that’s another blog!).

So, Mom… thank you. And Happy Father’s Day! I love you more than you know!

The middle one J

Becky

AKA BeckBug

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