It's the most wonderful time of the year....until March

The dreaded time of frosted windows and numbed toes has once again happened upon my little Virginian haven. My lungs tend to vocalize my body's detest of cold weather each time I go outside. My skin lightens to its colder weather translucent hue allowing the blue blood to easily be seen working its way through the miles of veins; willing my body to keep it's 97.6 temperature. Yes, it is only November, and I may be a bit melodramatic, but this girl does not do cold. I should live in Florida or Texas. But then I would have to deal with more bugs. Bugs. Bugs are a whole different subject.

So you may ask why my favorite season isn't spring or summer--when the warmer weather comes to play. I will tell you why--it all has to do with 94 feet of polished maple floor, a 28.5 inch orange ball, and a 10 foot hoop.

This past Sunday I had a revelation as I left my first collegiate game of the season to drive to AAU practice-basketball season is HERE. For the next 4 months my life will be just a little bit happier and a whole lot busier. Between traveling 18+ hours on weekends for games, coaching 6th graders, and actually getting my monies worth from my t.v. I won't have time to get cold. Basketball is ingrained in my genes. From NBA, NCAA All-Americans, DI, DIII, highschool, and recreational players my family has seen it all. It helps that we are abnormally large, but hey I'm gonna throw it out there that there may be some skill involved too. Es posible!

 I miss the days of goofing around the outdoor hoop, spending time with my brothers, trick shots off the porch with Josh, and even chasing the ball into the poison ivy invested mountain woods.And now I share with you a poem--written a very long time ago about a boy who played a daily game in his head.

The kid walks in,

5 foot 5 with eyes a shiny blue,

Everyone looks and stares,

At his size 9 shoes.

He’s come to play,

A game of his,

Which he calls Joshie’s ball.

Then the 11 year old,

Takes on those twice as old,

Shooting threes and jumpers,

Swoosh swoosh swoosh.

Finally, he turns around,

Puts the ball beside the hoop,

Walks into his house for supper,

Smiling as always at the score,

In his mind,

55-0.

Disclaimer: He is now 6' 11". He wears a size 16 shoe. And he is 21. Other than that the kid hasn't changed a bit.

I can't wait to see Josh ball out this season on t.v. and person. I can't wait to see how my 6th graders will develop and improve their skills. Welcome hoops--without you I don't see how I could brave the winter.

And whether you are an all-star player, retired athlete,or just admire the beautiful game take some advice from the Carol: never turn down a chance to play with your kids even if they are triple your size and GO GET BUCKETS.

Kim

My dear sister,
I sit here on this Sunday evening writing this blog about you instead of planning for my college class tomorrow. If you were here you would be laughing saying "you? procrastinating? NOOOOOOOOO...do your homework!". Then instead of actually letting me do my homework we would have life conversations. Or the countless times when you sent a simple text or message saying, "hey lady...about to go get boys in bed but wanted to say hi :) praying for you lady!" 10 months. I can't believe it has been 10 months since you've been gone.

Our lives intersected because of others, but our relationship was unique from the start. Sometimes people just click, and I clicked with you. You were there with two sweet boys for me to love on whenever we went to a Josh Henderson basketball game. You were there when I was scared about my mom's cancer--when you were fighting yourself. You were there when we found out she was going to be okay--supporting us even though you knew your fight likely wouldn't end the same way. You were there when I doubted myself, when I was angry at people, when I questioned my purpose in this life. Always there, always listening and giving advice to my picayune problems when you had bigger things to worry about. You knew how easily I hide my feelings from others. Others except for you-you cut right into my emotions with your sense of humor and line of questioning.

We had so many good times at the pool, 3849543 coffee dates, hanging out at your house, the UGA/Vandy roadtrip among others. Remember when I ran a 5K with a backpack weighted down with useless items like glue? Or the awesome Race for the Cure (Click on the link to view) video your sweet boys made just for you? I was honored that you trusted me to watch your children-that you said I had a gift for working with kids.

 I haven't sipped Starbucks in 305 days, when I layed beside you on election day and cried saying goodbye.

 I have publicly and privately shed more tears than I knew I had in me-they are making another unwelcome appearance as I type this.

 I finally got that new job I always talked about. I wish you were here to listen to how different it is than I expected.

 I've seen your 3 boys hurt, suffer, and grow over the last 303 days. You would be so proud of all of them. Every time I see blue eyes I think "those eyes have NOTHING on Jackson Smith" and that makes me remember you. Every time I meet a Joshua I think of "your Josh" and "my Josh" and "LOOK IT'S JOSH HENDERSON!" and that makes me remember you. Every time Calvin posts one of your gorgeous pictures it makes me remember you and long for a love like the two of you share-true love cut short, but forever intertwined because it was built upon God's truths. I know they will be okay, but that doesn't make the healing process suck any less. (Yes I know you would be frowning at me for using the word suck in a public forum-it is the fondest of words for this situation)

We all will always miss and grieve over you, but you are part of me and so many forever. For that I am grateful. Thank you for your fingerprints on my heart and in my life. Thank you God for giving me Kim Smith.

Ch Ch Ch Changes

A few things about my new and exciting job(s) journey that starts TOMORROW!

1) People seem to think I know what I'm doing. While I do have multiple years of experience working with individuals with disabilities I struggle to label myself a specialist. Not because I don't think I know what I'm doing, but rather it makes me feel old. I cannot believe that this is my 5th year of teaching! And, yes I am aware that some of you reading this have been teaching for a lot longer than me and think I am crazy for feeling old. Too bad: it is what it is. Also, what does specialist mean anyway? It's not like I'm going to be able to use my knowledge in the field to coerce kids to do what I want. They are the ones who are ultimately going to dictate what is learned (with my guidance of course) and many times I feel like I learn more from them than they do from me.

2) On Friday I get to go on an exciting 1.5 hour bus tour of Harrisonburg. I don't know what I'm going to learn about this city that I've lived in for 8 (wow!) years, but I will be sure to keep you posted if we find a new feed plant, or hitching post for your horse and buggy.

3) JMU starts one week after Stone Spring. I had a little freak-out sesh about if I was actually qualified to teach college at the age of 25, but now I'm cool with it. I'm stoked to have the opportunity to spread awareness and knowledge about that field I am so passionate about. I have 80 students who willingly or unwillingly are going to hear my stories about the countless special people who have impacted my life. From childhood playing hide-and-seek in my uncle's restaurant with Norman, to working at camp and in the classroom, to my interactions with family members-they get to hear it all. And, it is my desire that they come away with just a little piece of the treasure that my heart holds. Because a little exposure can plant a seed, and a seed can grow into a vine, and then well you get the picture.

4) Non-job related but so job related-I moved. One of the main reasons, besides wanting to use my degree and work in special education, I changed jobs was because Clymore was so far away. Well this week I moved. I am now 5 minutes from school, 3 minutes from JMU (because my class is on the ISAT side so no Port traffic-hallelujah), and 7 minutes from the gym. I can bike and walk to places and am just happy about being centrally located. Yay for living in the community where I work. And, no I won't leave my favorite farmers alone either-you don't leave family!

Here's to doing things that scare me. Growing as a person. Trusting in God because he hasn't led me wrong yet!
"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight." Proverbs 3:5-6
*I'm thankful to be blessed beyond words and am shouting his praise in my life as it is revealed before me.*

"Back to school back to school to prove to dad that I'm not a fool"

*Disclaimer: I am well aware that hebdomadal means "weekly" and I haven't posted since June aka not weekly. It's summer. I've been busy.*

My first back to school dream occurred last night. It is here! The new year is upon us!

I've been going through kindergarten withdrawal the past few weeks. As the aisles have filled with markers, glue sticks, crayons, and hand sanitizer my heart has filled with nostalgia. The excitement and nervousness of the first day will be different. I won't have 20 bright eyed-some with tears- 4 and 5 year olds ogling at their new school and "giant" teacher. (*Sidenote-one of the upcoming kindergarteners actually referred to me as "the giant" over the last two years. I can't wait to hear about the first day for her and other soon to be K kids I know.) I'm not sure what the main point of my first day will be. For the past four it has been getting students into the classroom, making sure they eat at some point, and getting them on the right bus or in the right car to go home in one piece, at least halfway happy at the end of the day.

I will miss my K team-a group of very dedicated teachers and even better friends.

They are going to need someone to pick up the comedy and the blackhole (I admittedly have organizational problems) in my room that I took with me, but I'm sure one or two can step up to the plate. They are all good sharers which is a very important kindergarten trait.

 I will miss popping across the hall to ask Kristen questions or chat even though I ended up scaring her 93% of the time because she would so engrossed preparing for her students that she wouldn't notice me coming into the room. But, as busy as she was she always entertained my conversations and for that I am thankful.

I will also miss my hundreds of lunchtime conversations with a little friend named Ann. We started at Clymore together and my next-door neighbor, planning partner, salt to my pepper teacher has been through it all with me. I'll have to find some way to mess with her through email or some other form of technology and she will have to find someone else to reach things for her when someone *probably me* put them too high on a shelf.

The one thing I will NOT miss is memorizing 20 lunch numbers and bus numbers. I tried to come up with some other things, but I just can't at this time, so I'll stop trying and know that with the mixed feelings of the unknown great things can and will come. Go forth little K stars and shine this year, you have some of the best teachers on this planet. And, to my favorite 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th graders on the planet, I love you too.

Farm Life

10 things I've learned while living on a farm

1) There are many unique smells that have helped my nose along in its maturity-cows, skunked dog blankets, calf milk, rhubarb pudding, deceased mice (and other miscellaneous vermin) in my walls, the garden, the cherry tree blooming outside my window, and good old fresh dirt.

2) Raw milk, homegrown eggs, beef, fruits, and veggies really do taste better. Whenever I leave this place I will do my best, even if it means paying more, to continue eating local food. My taste-buds have been spoiled!

3) Farming is hard work. Not only does it take immense physical strength, there is also an ever-present  emotional pull between family and work. Farming isn't a one or two person job it envelops the entire family. Farmers are on call 24 hours a day 365 days a year. Vacations are extremely rare and difficult to take. Whether its Cory or Dennis working, the kids having a special event that is missed, or the wife resorting to watching her shows by her lonesome (shoutout to you Beth!) everyone in the family has to sacrifice.

4) Even if you aren't a biological part of the family you will be adopted and given some task to complete. The familial atmosphere of the farm helps it run smoothly. I can say that my cow herding, gun shooting, calf feeding, kitten finding, barn climbing, kid watching, 4-wheeler driving, and car towing skills have improved since moving here.

5) With all of the hard work and sacrifice that is put into a farm the people who are doing the work see very little money. Running a farm where you are creating food and milk that isn't poison is becoming increasingly difficult. Do some research and you will find out all kinds of things you didn't want to know about regulation loopholes in this country. Safe food costs more money to make; therefore, you may have to pay a little more for it. Stop being stingy.

6) Speaking of feeding calves and unique smells I cannot stand the calf milk powder. I'm the only person that it bothers around here--yes me with the strong stomach, but that stuff whew, ick. It smells like a milky cake mix but the powder tickles my nose and throat and if you ever get the chance to see me around it I will be struggling. I would rather give up the easiest job on the farm and scrape poop instead.

7) If you ever need a cat a farm is a perfect place for you.

8) Geese are mean. They are mean because a certain farmer steals their delicious eggs from their nests. Geese will hiss, charge, and bite you. Just trust me. Stay away.

9) There are many types of transportation on a farm. From 4-wheeler to trampoline to tractor to 18 wheeler if you need to get somewhere or move something not only can it be done, but done in style.

10) Mice, ants, birds flying in through my chimney and around my head at 6 in the morning (don't worry that problem is fixed now), and even geese included I love this place. It is my home. I live with people who are dear to my heart and have a new founded respect for those who grow my food.

P.S. I'm still waiting for the old orders to accept me and invite me on a horse and buggy ride. I would even wear a skirt that covers my ankles.

This is a new year. A new beginning. And things will change.

I have mixed feelings about this post. I am ecstatic because one of my dreams is coming true. I have a special place deep rooted within for individuals with special needs (especially autism) that I can't fully explain and others can't fully understand unless they too have it.

I am also deep-down-in-the-dumps-depressed. *Sad because I will be leaving everything I know in the teaching world-from student teaching my school has molded and supported me. *Desperate because I know I won't see many of my students and former students ever again. I want so badly to see them continue to grow and bloom into who they will be. *Devastated because I am passing up an awesome opportunity to take over the jv basketball program at the high school across the street. *Guilty because I feel I am letting my K team down.

Teaching is a work of the heart. Unlike so many other professions it is impossible not to become emotionally attached to those you pour so much of yourself into. I know everything I'm feeling is normal. And, I also know that as the school year wraps up and the summer begins I will place Clymore in a special compartment of my heart right next to the core. I will take so many experiences and friendships and cherish them forever. Words certainly cannot express how grateful I am for the K and 3rd grade teams that I have worked with, as well as the many related service providers and special education staff who have been an integral part of my room for the last 3 years. When I am having a rough day, which I'm afraid may happen often in the future (fear of the unknown) I will pull memories from that spot and remember those who taught me, had faith in me, told me when I was wrong--using the strength and words of my friends to get through whatever comes my way, if only until the next day.

I have accepted a position in Harrisonburg City for next year as a special education teacher. The position is new so I don't have a lot of details, but I do know that I will be working with students who have high-functioning autism. This means I will have my own classroom; however, my students will also go into the general education setting some so I will be co-teaching with teachers in multiple grade levels. This school is part of the Shenandoah Valley Regional Program for Special Education-students from Augusta, Harrisonburg, Page Co, Rockingham Co, Shenandoah Co, and Staunton can come to this school. In addition it is a K-4 school serving students in Harrisonburg City. Students with and without disabilities making progress together. The climate of the school is warm and inviting and the administration seems superb.

So, as difficult as it is to leave my little comfort bubble I'm ready to work 2 minutes from my gym, 5 minutes from JMU, and 13 minutes from my apartment. I'm ready to use the skills I gained at JMU to help students learn. I'm ready to be the change I want to see in the world. As I have "talk-texted" friends to tell them about this new opportunity I know there's no coincidence that each time I say "autism class" it auto corrects to awesome class.
Excited.Terrified.Moving Forward. Being an Eagle. Making A Difference.

14 days

There are 14 days of school left. The bajillions of assessments are finally complete and the summer FEVER set in about 2 months ago. Between the tattling on their peers and class chicks alike I would like to change my name or the language I speak. "I'm sorry Miss Henderson is not taking tattling right now, please try her at a later date."  "No comprehendo. Hables Espanol?" Along with the tattling comes the end of the year projects. Trying to find the perfect keepsake for parents to remember their child's first year. This is supposed to be the most important year right? I must create, imagine, discover something amazing that will not be forgotten. Hold the door, this student is gone one week and another student the next? Where is my time going? I need them at school to create greatness. Forget vacation memories, obviously the picture your 6 year old draws is much more important that priceless memories. I'm such a selfish person, maybe I'm just jealous :-)

Let me set my delusion aside and savor the sweet summer that lies ahead. This year I will spend time at the beach, in Nashville, and possibly a cross-country road trip. I will sleep in late, a whopping 7:30 here on the farm, and live in my gym clothes. Reunited with Katelyn for the first time in two years, there's no doubt we'll wreak havoc somewhere. My days will be filled with giggles and gags with my favorite kids.My first summer since high school without class--thank you basketball, 5 major changes, and full time job during grad school equals  no major commitments.

I adore my job and my students, but we all need a break. 14 days-we. can. do. it.  Now, just don't make me think about the changes that come after this hiatus. My kinders are growing up!

I'll love you forever

Carol Dearest,
Today was Mother's Day. You have been my mom for 25 years. 25-that's a quarter of a century (WOW). I wasn't planning on coming to Roanoke today. Between end of the year kindergarten craziness, job interviews, and a 9 mile hike yesterday I just needed a day to rest. Then I realized I needed something more. I needed you.

 You have taught me uncountable things over the years. You molded me into the adult I am now with love, hard work, and LOTS of patience. Here are just a few favorite memories of you.

1) I loved when you used to let me skip school (which I hated) and come teach preschool (which I loved). Many people have told me my gift for teaching is innate. I know it comes from watching your talent over the years.

2) As much as I used to hate going to the nursing home as a family and visiting with the residents, because I was a self-centered egotistical shy kid, I am grateful for the experience now. You taught us that no matter what a person looks like, smells like, talks like, or feels like they deserve respect and love.

3) I always waited with anticipation for our dates to work the concession stand during my softball years-and there were a. lot.! Granted the fact that I was allowed to eat candy carries a lot of weight in why this is a favorite memory, I also enjoyed just spending the time with you away from the boys that ran our house. You taught me the importance of girl time.

4) This will come to a surprise to you but I cherish our shoe hunting shopping. Actually shopping in general with you has s-l-o-w-l-y become something I enjoy. Not many moms would have put up with the lack of shoes in size 13 or the 13 year old who constantly threw fits about it. Thanks for teaching me how to persevere and embrace my body the way it was made.

5) You don't remember much about your stay in Johns Hopkins. I do. It was in Baltimore Maryland that I realized you aren't going to be around forever. It was in the 5 star accommodations of the Marburg Pavilion that I finally understood that you are not as invincible as I always believed. And in that place we needed each other as a family. I sat/slept/ate/lived by your bed and across the hall for 10 days. And, then you were cleared to go home-pancreatic cancer caught by accident, early enough to not need any additional treatment. We will take scheduled scans for years, answered prayers and a new realization that God really does perform miracles over what could have been. Your unwavering faith makes mine stronger.

This Hallmark holiday brings joy and sadness to so many each year. Eventually I know it will bring a bit of sadness to my heart. That's why I needed you today and everyday. I don't want you to ever doubt your importance to your children. Thank you for showing me how to be patient, kind, spontaneous, generous, and that a little bit of rebellion doesn't hurt every now and again...wait, maybe that's what I'm teaching you.

Excerpt from Love you Forever by Robert Munsch-a childhood favorite.

There once was a mother who had a new baby and she picked it up and rocked it back and forth back and forth back and forth and sang "I'll love you forever I'll like you for always as long as I'm living my baby you'll be."

Well that baby grew and grew and grew until it was 9 years old and it never wanted to come in for dinner and when it did come in sometimes it said bad words at the dinner table. Sometimes the mom would say this kid is driving me craaazy. But at nighttime when that 9 year old was asleep the mother would open up the door to his room crawl across the floor look up over the side of the bed and if that kid was really asleep she would pick him up and rock it back and forth back and forth back and forth and sing "I'll love you forever I'll like you for always as long as I'm living my baby you'll be".

...Well that teenager he grew and grew and grew until he was a grown up man. He left home and moved all the way to the other side of town. But sometimes on dark nights the mother would drive across town. When she came to her son's house she would pick him up and rock him back and forth back and forth back and forth and sing "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living my baby you'll be".

I'll love you forever I'll like you for always as long as I'm living my mommy you'll be.

I cannot wait to sing to my children one day because of you.

I heart you,

Rebecky

Wristband Sista

Here's another trip down memory lane post. I would apologize for being so reminiscent lately, but I feel that it goes along with my life changes that are up and coming. And, it's my blog, my thoughts, deal with it.

:-) This is a post about an unlikely friend for her birthday. I say unlikely because even though we have known each other for 17 years (wayyyy back to my soccer years), our friendship didn't truly take off until high school. Then right in the best years of our lives the girl decided to go to college across the country. She gets me-my shyhyperness, millionmilesaminutescramblebrain, exceedinglyoverwhelmingandneverceasing at times energy level. I am a the clumsiest walking antithesis and the woman takes it in stride. Lora has shown me what it means to be a friend by always listening, sometimes laughing, once elbowing me in the gut, and never judging.

It started on the soccer field but grew on the basketball court. If you know about me you probably know about my basketball journey through college. If you know me you probably know about my basketball journey before college. There are multiple people who shared the task of getting me through those delicate years. Lora took on the task in 10th grade at a team sleepover. She didn't know what she was getting herself into, but I know now that she doesn't regret it!

Junior year-we had some pretty AWESOME captains that year. Reagan and Pedro's First Annual Sausage Patty Fest. On the to bring list: karaoke, games, video camera, sleeping bags, Nemo if you can find it, practice clothes and playbook (shooting practice was at 5:37 am), laps/legs, and shiny rolls.

Got lots of shots off before the sun came up this week. Had breakout games as individuals and a team, playing in college became a true goal, and Lora's senior corruption year began courtesy of your's truly. Skipping open gyms, pregame slurpees, Chinese fire drills-you know, true rebellion.

My left-handed right wingman

All good things must come to an end. True friends are hard to find and impossible to forget.

I guess it's okay you left me for Utah. Now you can take me on fun adventures!

Great Salt Lake

I caught up with Lora this afternoon. Towards the end of our lengthy conversation she asked if she could send me a link with a message she had heard. This message contained a story that reminded her of me. I read it this afternoon and was blessed. Once again my friend shines wisdom on areas I have concern in. A quote from the article that displays my friend better that I can:
"The happiest people I know are not those who find their golden ticket (although she has a pretty rockin' husband and is going to be a mama in June!!!); they are those who, while in pursuit of worthy goals, discover and treasure the beauty and sweetness of the everyday moments. They are the ones who, thread by daily thread, weave a tapestry of gratitude and wonder throughout their lives. These are they who are truly happy."
Thank you for being one of the hardest working people I know. Thank you for being an uplifting voice to me. Thank you for always constantly forever pointing out positives. Thank you for being my friend. Most importantly thank you for being you!

  Feliz Cumpleanos a ti, feliz cumpleanos a ti, feliz cumpleanos querida Lora, feliz compleanos a ti! 

Your very own BFG

I am going to be honest, this is how I've felt recently. Most of the time I'm accepting of my glorious stature, but sometimes I feel cramped, befuddled, frustrated, fat, just plain outta place. So here is my raving about being too large for the common folk. You get to hear it one time, then I will be silent.

You are thinking "But, you aren't that tall." You are correct I'm not that gargantuan compared to other men although the percentage of men who are taller than me is less that 3.2%, but here's the thing-I. AM. NOT. A. MAN. How many WOMEN do you know that have a 36" inseam? It would be really nice to buy a pair of pants in a store. Who wear size 13 shoes? Yes, you read that right 1 ten and 3 ones put together. Oh those super cute fashionista shoes I just saw my friend wearing? Once, just once I would like to copy her and go grab myself a pair. Also, just because you are tall doesn't mean you are BIG. My bare shoulders from straps falling down in the summer can attest to that. I could continue with my clothing woes, but you don't want to read my neverendinglist of non-feminine/too expensive/wahwahwah blubbering. My mother never put up with it-forcing me to travel to stores 5 hours from home to find clothes or ordering half the inventory from a potential catalog just to return the unfit merchandise, so you shouldn't have to listen for that long either.
Speaking of the mom in my life the 5' 4" superstar always has made sure I "embraced my height" even when I spat back venom of her having no idea what it was like to stand out in a crowd. Oh, wait. She's that little person beside the man who's 6' 10". She has an idea of what it is like to stand out and her personality loves it. I have grown (*pun*) to accept being taller than most of the population. I know 1oneuno girl who is taller than I am. I have strangers ask me how tall I am, what it's like, how tall are my parents, do I play volleyball yada yada I could go on. This doesn't bother me. I like talking to people, but sometimes when I go out in public with my family it would be nice to not have eyes on us 94% of the time. I can see you posing behind my brother while your friend takes a picture with her smartphone. What would you do if I walked up to you and snapped a picture?
Then come the sports questions. Because I am tall I must not only be obsessed with sports, but I must also possess a natural talent that other's don't have. I have mixed emotions about how my parents handled my sports upbringing. Mixed emotions that will be discussed at a later date. I can say that I am happy with where I am at this point in my life and that things happen for a reason. As cliche as that sounds it is true. Had I been raised differently I probably wouldn't be making a difference in countless lives between molding 5 year old brains and reigning in 19 year old ball players.
I stand out as a leader. I'm a gracefully clumsy goofball. I'm a practical joker who's not good at sneaking around so I use my leader status to use other people to orchestrate my ideas--jessieowens, laceyeaster, katelyndavis. I'm unique. I've learned to love it.
But, when I make a comment about standing out don't come back with the "I know how you feel" unless you are part of the 0.7% that sets me apart.

Rant=over.
And if you don't understand the BFG acronym look it up and then read the book!