Unkie

The day before I was scheduled to take my National Board assessments, my mom and I went to Columbia and stayed the night so we wouldn't be pressed for time trying to get there in morning work traffic. Shortly after we found the building where I would be testing that night, my mom got a call from my aunt telling us that my dear sweet Unkie had passed away. If you trace back on my blog a little ways, you will be able to read all about Unkie. In short, he was my grandfather...or the closest thing I'd ever had to one. Both of my parents' fathers passed away before I was born, and Unkie (my grandmother's brother) moved here from Florida just three months before I was born and stayed here until he passed away this month. He was 92. That wasn't old enough. Before he died, in the words of my cousin, Joy, I never imagined a world without Unkie. For some reason, I thought he'd live forever. I know that's not logical, or even vaguely intelligent, but I wholeheartedly believed it.

As I sat back and remembered all the good times with him, I cried and cried...not just because my Unkie was gone, but because my babies that I haven't had will never know him. That breaks my heart.

“Elegy for Unkie”

To the world, he was Clifford Bergstrom.
To all of us, he was our Unkie.
And to him, many of us were “Charlie.”

He was a veteran paratrooper who fought for our freedom,
And a kindhearted soul who loved us more than life.
When we were kids, anything a hug couldn’t fix,
A pack of M&Ms could,
And we knew we would find them in Unkie’s drawer.

When summer came, he cleaned the pool,
preparing it for the wave of children
that would soon run around Lois Street.
Rides home from school with Unkie
were like trips to the amusement park,
careening over the 378 bypass
at speeds our parents would never go.
Perhaps he learned to drive
from watching Mark Martin.

Unkie loved a lot of things…
Hamburger Helper, Chicken McNuggets, lemondade,
donating to charities, races at Daytona, piano music.
He could put the world back together with a tube of super glue.
And no one knew Young and the Restless like Unkie.

Of course, he had lots of hobbies…
following NASCAR, working in the yard,
carpentry, and hanging with Uncle Temus,
but Unkie’s favorite hobby was us.
He was a family man, evident from his bedroom
wallpapered in our photographs
to his constant attendance at family dinners
until just a few weeks ago.
He never tired of our neighborhood-wide
“Happy New Year,” and he was always around
for weddings and babies and birthdays.

He was a hero, not only in his service to this country
but in his service to his family,
A family that was forever changed when a sweet
little man moved to Nanny’s in 1984,
Living one of the fullest lives we could ever imagine…
even if 92 years just weren’t enough for us.

Come On, Summer!

As established in my earlier post...I love my job. I could even use the word adore on most days. In fact, I rarely get up and feel like I'm going to "work," unless it's a week I have morning duty. At 7:30 in the morning, I am in no way a happy camper and I find high school immaturity less than cute.

Regardless of how much I love what I do, I also love that I get a summer break. And at this point, I am super-ready for it. I overdid myself this semester, and I've paid for it. Now, I'm just ready to wake up later than 5:45 a.m., spend my free time with my husband, and get my house somewhat in order.

I'm ready to embrace my summer. :) Bring it on.

Teaching

My profession has been heavy on my heart lately for a variety of reasons. For one, I am in the middle of writing up my responses to the Teacher of the Year questions. One of the first questions asks why I became a teacher. I'm supposed to write two double-spaced pages, but I can sum up my response in much less than that. I am a big believer that I didn't choose teaching, but instead, it chose me. Some are called to study law, some are called into medicine, and I was called to teach; it is as much a part of my DNA as my eye color. I honestly consider it one of the most honorable professions in the world. Sure, there are jobs I could work and get paid much more money or have much more prestige, but I'd rather sit in my classroom and shape the lives of young adults over money and titles any day of the week.

Last night in my graduate class, one of my fellow classmates (and a teacher) shared with our little 618 family that this would be her last year teaching. She's not retiring and hasn't been laid off. After three years, she's just decided teaching is not for her. I am devastated to say the very least. I've seen her presentations in class, heard her talk about her students with such passion, and now I feel like our field is losing something great. Denise Hildreth-Jones, one of my favorite Christian speakers, is also a novelist. She often tells the story of how she never believed she could be a writer until someone told her that she needed to write a book. Her response was, "I don't write," and the person said, "Yeah, you do." After publishing several novels, she tells this story to reference the power other people have to call us into our destinies. I wholeheartedly believe that teaching is mine.

When I was a little girl, I often had to be my sister's student while she played school. I desperately wanted to grow up and have either a younger sibling or a classroom of my own so I could teach real people instead of stuffed animals. My parents assured me a classroom would be the more likely of the two. I remember racing in the door from kindergarten, eager to teach my daddy the letter "J" and all the j-words we had learned that day. A love for learning had ignited even then, and it has continued to grow.

Are there bad days in teaching? Sure, there are. Do I often leave school at 5:00 exhausted and lugging home a night's worth of work to grade? Of course. Sure, I'd like a job that allows my day to end when I leave my place of employment, and there are days I'd practically kill for a decent lunch instead of whatever the cafeteria staff has dreamed up. But at the end of each and every day, there is nothing I'd rather do than teach. It is who I am.

Me with one of my favorite students on her happy graduation day.

Relaxation

Oh sweet Lord, how I needed Spring Break. I have entirely used this week the way it was intended when God looked down on teachers and said, "My word, by March or April, they're bound to be crazy." I relaxed. That is all I've done. And it has been nothing short of miraculous.

My sweet husband, on the other hand, painted our entire kitchen in our cute little fixer-upper and did some landscaping work. Last night he stayed up late folding a mountain of laundry. I woke up all sleepy-eyed, wondering just what I'd done right in life to deserve someone like him. He is the epitome of what a husband should be, and I am so thankful for him even on our worst days.

Of course, my relaxation came with a price. I currently have until 4:30p.m. tomorrow to get three projects completed for graduate school (two of which have not been started). Was it worth it? Most definitely.

A First

So today while I was sitting in my graduate class, anxiously ready to go so I could make a trip to Hobby Lobby, I got a text from my husband. He usually doesn't text me during class unless it's something important like he just won the lottery or he doesn't want me to forget his pizza on the way home. This message was highly unusual and said, "I just killed our first snake of the season." Excuse me, what?

Now, I grew up in the country, and I was even a counselor at a kids' camp where it was considered typical to kill a snake a day. But...we are talking about my house that sits in a cute little neighborhood about 2.5 minutes from a WalMart. When we signed the papers to purchase it, I didn't think we were buying snakes, too. Apparently, I was wrong.

I called to get the details (after my class was over, of course), and I was told by a very excited 28-year-old that the snake was on the front porch and that when he came back with the shovel, it was slithering (hate that word) into the bushes in front of our house. When my husband attempted to kill it, it apparently started biting the shovel. Why? I don't really know.

He's attempted to lure me into the yard to look at it because he "saved it" for me, but I can't get down with snakes.

Tallulah Jane

Growing up, I never had a pet. Well, one time I bought a sea monkey kit from Spencer's, but I accidentally spilled them down the drain, so I don't think that really counts at all. I couldn't love and cuddle them or walk them down the street unless I carried their container in my arms. I wasn't really that into them anyway.

I had always wanted a puppy, but my mom wasn't having it. When I got to college, my desire for a puppy increased exponentially, but as an RA, sneaking a dog into my dorm room wouldn't have been a good thing for my job, and my job paid for my housing. You see the dilemma...obviously.

From college, I moved into an apartment that was not conducive to animals because they "made too much noise," even though the lady who lived beneath us had children who made more noise than an entire pound full of animals. Anyway...for years I had been following Mustard Sandwich, which I maintain is the best place from which to adopt a dog. Anyway, I was looking one day and saw this cute little Chug (Chihuahua/Pug mix). She was a girl, and she was absolutely precious. I immediately e-mailed her picture and description to my husband, and he convinced me that we could get her and keep her quiet in our apartment. We got her, and though she wasn't always quiet, we never were asked to get rid of her. Now, we're obviously in our own house, and she has free reign of the place.

Before we got her, I never realized why people were so crazy about their animals. I actually thought it was kind of loopy. Now, though, I know. She is a bright spot of every day, and I am still completely smitten over her.

Yes, I realize I should fold those clothes, and there probably shouldn't be blinds in the middle of my floor. It's Spring Break; get over it.

Monday Musings

On this Monday, I have so much to be thankful for...
-Good friends who keep me laughing.
-My sweet Tallulah who is currently perched on my leg because she's missed me all day.
-My patient husband who is tireless painting our kitchen just the colors I wanted.
-The fact that I have a personal Savior who cared enough to die for me.
-A job that gives me Spring Break. Hallelujah!
-A great rug that was cheap at Ross.