All posts by blogobeth

Personal, Uncategorized

The Best Laid Plans Are Crap

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I turned 40 two weeks ago. It seems like I should be marking this occasion with some sort of wisdom or rite of passage. What would that be? The truth is not only do I not feel wiser I actually feel more stupid. 

When you are in your twenties your life is filled with possibility and uncertainty. We all crane our necks trying to peer over the fence into adulthood wondering what it is going to look like, unaware that we are already there.  By thirty we KNOW we are adults and are filled with the confidence and certainty that this self-awareness brings.  We’re married, we have kids, houses, cars, careers and life seems rather simple for those who know how to “follow the rules”.  But the journey from thirty to forty is tough and exhausting. 

At 40 I’ve realized that having a “plan” for life is the silliest most fruitless thing ever. Plans are meant for those who have yet to come to terms with the fact that life is not something that can be controlled.  All the idealistic and optimistic visions of my early thirties have been smacked in the head with reality.  In many ways my life is better, more fruitful, richer and painted with more vibrant colors than I was capable of imagining at thirty. On the other hand I’m also far more humble.  I’ve been knocked on my knees, fallen to the floor and wondered “what next?” too many times during my thirties. I know not to take the good times for granted and that the unexpected tragedy is the other side of the rainbow that fills our lives.

What’s next?

I plan on spending my forties enjoying the seeds I sowed in my thirties. I’m looking forward to watching my children grow up. I want to wallow in my new career as an educator and watch my students blossom.  Most importantly, I’m looking forward to countless evenings sitting with David on our front porch, watching the moon, talking quietly about our kids, our jobs,  and laughing at life.

Uncategorized

See, I Do Care

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I was a recent college grad when I took a job with the Muscular Dystrophy Association.  I was young, idealistic and wanted a job that would be emotionally fulfilling.  I naively thought that working for a non-profit organization would provide me with the sensation of doing something for the greater good. It did not.  Within a year I realized that non-profit organizations are mainly filled with people who are driven by money. Raising money and finding new ways of raising money is their only focus.  I learned three important things while working there.

#1 Give Locally

Your local vet clinic, homeless shelter, food bank will take your money and put it to use right away helping the people in your neighborhood.  Your money will not go to feed and/or support a large bureaucracy that must pay salaries, bonuses and office supplies for their employees.

#2 Don’t Give Money

If at all possible give something that can’t be corrupted.  Whenever I can I prefer to donate food, books, time, clothes, ANYTHING but money.  Money is easily manipulated and wasted on things that you would rather not see your charitable money being spent.

#3 Work For The United Way

It is a widely held belief within the non-profit industry that if you want to make “real” money you go work for the United Way. They pay top dollar for their employees.  This tells me as a person donating to NEVER donate to the United Way.

Even with this jaded and cynical attitude I still have two causes that evoke my passion.  Causes for which I will give and/or do anything.  They are literacy and food.  I feel passionate that if you feed people and teach them to read you can change the world. People have endless potential when they don’t have to worry about their next meal and when they can self-educate.  First and foremost I believe that women should know how to read.  They are the mothers of the world and only they can influence and change the future of our society.  It is imperative.

As a result when I read Seagull Fountain’s review of “Three Cups of Tea” at 1:00 in the morning while I fed the baby I could not stop thinking. I was awake for another two hours thinking about the girls of the world.  My heart breaking about the young women of Afghanistan, Pakistan, India and other nations who are left out of the educational process.  Girls who will never know the wonder and power of books – even their own religious texts.  As I lay there awake thinking about these girls and asking myself what can I DO to help this cause I thought well, I could write another blog post about Seagull Fountain’s review and thus continue the cycle of awareness.  I could also provide a link to Greg Mortenson’s charitable cause iKat and encourage you to help.

You teach a girl to read, you teach a family to read. You teach a family to read, you teach a town to read. You teach a town to read, you can change the world.

Uncategorized

Why Teachers Who Teach Writing Should Write

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1.) Writing Is Hard

Writing has always been my favorite form of expression.  Some people paint, draw, sculpt, sew, do crafts, take pictures but I write.  I’m honest about my skills, which means I’m a hair above average.  However, writing every day or even three times a week is challenging.  At times it is down right hard. The pain felt when staring at a blank page or the anxiety of not knowing what to write about is a feeling that a composition teacher should always be familiar.

2.) Writing Is A Skill

Like any other hobby writing requires constant practice.  The less you do the worse you get. I used to be able to rattle off a thirty second radio ad in twenty minutes but now my creative writing skills have grown rusty as I have spent more time writing academically and professionally. If I’m going to preach practice then I had better be practicing myself.

3.) Know Thyself

Part of the skill of writing is understanding where you struggle.  I’m not a grammarian. I’m okay with this. The basic rules of grammar are tedious and boring to me. I couldn’t quote the rule for semi-colon usage or dangling modifiers if my life depended on it. Yuck. I love books. I love words. I love writing. I don’t love grammar. However, knowing my weakness allows me to compensate for it. It is important to know where your strengths and weakness lie and therefore also important that my students gain that same self-awareness.

4.) Don’t Lose The Wonder

I love to write. I truly do love it. I’ve written in some form or fashion everyday of my life since I was in fifth grade and started my first journal. I still love it. I love how writing forces me to be introspective. I love how writing challenges me to accurately communicate my thoughts and feelings. I love that sometimes when I write things it affects people and they tell me. If I ever lose sight of that love I’m going to quit teaching.

The act of writing is a craft and it is impossible to teach and inspire somebody to pursue the same craft if you yourself do not practice.  When I tell my students about the importance of having a writing process or why organization is important it is coming from the voice of experience and not from a textbook. A lecture rings hollow when it is presented with no passion and little context.

Books

Summer Reading? No, Summer Lovin’

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As part of my strategy to regain some peace in my life I have made a conscious decision to spend less time online (shocking, I know) and more time reading (even more scandalous).  Realizing that I’m also teaching over the summer I’ve kept my summer reading goals modest this year.  I haven’t purchased stacks and stacks of books but instead picked only a couple that I felt I could get through pretty quick.  I wanted to LOVE  what I was reading and not feel like I was back in school with a self-imposed assignment.  So, here is what I’ve got on my nightstand:

“The Bottoms” by Joe Lansdale

This was a recommendation from a fellow professor and I have to say I LOVED this book.  It was a complete page turner and I blew through it in three days.  Set in East Texas during the 1930’s it tells the story of a young boy who stumbles across the murdered body of a black woman.  The family and city turmoil that ensues is reminiscent of “To Kill A Mockingbird”.   Lansdale does a great job of capturing the feel of East Texas and the naked atrocities of racism during the 30’s.  I will be using this book in my class this summer and I cannot wait to lead class discussion – so many rich themes, so many great characters.  I highly recommend it.

“Eat, Pray, Love” by Michelle Gilbert

Okay, I admit I’m late on this one.  I know this book has been around for years and is now being made into a motion picture starring Julia Roberts.  However, I think books come to you when you need them most and right now I needed a book that reminded me of the importance of doing things that I love and relying on faith.  I’ve just started reading it and so far it has struck a real chord with me.  I’m eager to devour it.

“It Starts At Home” by Kurt Brooner and Steve Stroope

Finally, not a novel but a book to make me a better parent and wife.  David and I made the decision to pull Lucy out of private school and put her into public.  We have a great public school here in Texas and I can’t really say I’m necessarily concerned about the quality of her education.  However, I don’t want her to lose the faith-based foundation she was building in private school.  As a result, I picked this book up to help give us some ideas and direction on how to incorporate our faith into our daily lives.

“Blue Like Jazz” by Donald Miller

This was a recommendation from David’s cousin Emily (thanks Em!).  This was also a rather fast read.  I read the entire book in about a week.  Written in a free-flowing journal style Miller recounts his personal journey of faith touching on both his doubts and his sources for inspiration.  It is a rather different look at Christian faith since Miller is both a proud Democrat and liberal and summarily rejects the traditional “Christian Conservative” movement.

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

This is my heavy hitter for the summer. I’ve tried reading this before and failed miserably.  However, my sister-in-law has also taken up the mantle and so I’m feeling empowered to get through it with a reading partner by my side.  I’ll let you know if we succeed.

I have a second stack of books if I somehow complete all these and still have time. That second stack includes “A Good Earth”, and another Lansdale novel.

I’m open to suggestions though and if you have something sitting on your nightstand that you think I would enjoy please leave me a note. (Please do not recommend ANY book in the Twilight series. Unless you are interested in hearing my well rehearsed lecture regarding the quality of Stephanie Meyer’s writing)

Uncategorized

Choices

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David quit his job.

Just like that.

No new job lined up.  No security blanket of independent financing.

He quit.

He quit because after a year of 50+ hours a week and an hour long commute and a job that was stressful and never ending in its demands it was time.

Nothing can force you to clarify your values and your life like a new baby.  A new baby is all encompassing in its demands and there is no ignoring the impact.  And so David found himself with a new baby, a wife crippled with postpartum depression and a job that was demanding his heart and soul.  Something had to give.

I wish I could say that the decision seemed clear to us but it didn’t.  We struggled with the overwhelming aspect of our lives and felt lost and trapped. What were we to do? We just bought a house, had a baby, how could we survive without an income? And yet, it was a simple phone call from my mother that put us straight.  She simply said, “Stop playing scared”.

Life gets like that when you start having kids – when you grow up.  The consequences of your decisions have far-reaching impact and you start to drive through your life white-knuckled and scared of the “what-ifs”.  However, life should never be lived from behind a rock – from the point of safety and when my mother so clearly told us that we were being cowards we knew what we needed to do.  You can either own life or life can own you but either way it is a choice.  So David and I chose.

The truth is that I’m not that worried. David is very talented and well liked. I’m sure he will land a job soon and indeed he’s been rather busy interviewing and fielding a variety of opportunities.  That isn’t the best part of this story though – the best part has been seeing him smile again. The best part has been waking up everyday with a husband who is present, relaxed and excited about his own life again.  We’ve gone to the lake, seen movies in the middle of the day, had family dinners EVERY night and generally enjoyed being a family again.

At the end of the day it is the choices we make everyday that determines what is important to us – where our values sit.  I’m proud of the fact that my husband had the courage to stand up and choose his family above all other obligations.  Now then, anybody looking for a great creative director?

Food

Feed The Soul

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Food is like a cooling balm on an agitated soul. Nothing brings me back to center, back to peace like cooking.  There is something rhythmic and elegant about gliding through one’s kitchen adding this and chopping that.  My number one go to comfort food during times of stress is spaghetti.  For many this may be a jar of sauce and some noodles but for me this is a meal that touches my most inner spirit.

Although my mother is Jewish she has always made her spaghetti sauce from scratch.  To this day I have no idea where she learned to make spaghetti sauce. I don’t know if she found the recipe in a book or if some strange Italian woman bestowed her secrets.  My mother has just always known how to make it and she has never used a written recipe.  One of the first things my mother ever taught me to make was spaghetti sauce.  I have spent countless hours in my mother’s kitchen talking about school, work, life all while stirring a pot of tomatoes and herbs.  The strong smell of basil and oregano permeating the house.  The silent dance as we gathered boiling water, toasted French bread and tossed salad.  My mother and I have made this meal so many times together that instructions are no longer required. We quietly fall into our roles and the meal is produced as if by magic.

David and I face an ocean of uncertainty at the moment.  We both are pretending like we’re not worried.  We say encouraging things to each other, smile, hug, give each other big pep talks but the undercurrent in our lives right now is one of “what if”.  I plated the spaghetti and sat it on the table.  Little green piles of salad tossed in a simple vinaigrette snuggled up against the circle of pasta.  The kids told knock-knock jokes and David obliged them with smiles and giggles.  As I filled my stomach with my mother’s spaghetti sauce I was transported back to her kitchen and the feeling that my mother was hugging me from thousands of miles away.   Everything will be fine.

Life is always going to surprise you with riotous change but it is the simple foundational pieces of your life that will carry you along – like knowing how to make a good spaghetti sauce from scratch.

MaMa Callaway’s Spaghetti Sauce

1lb ground beef

1 small onion

3 garlic cloves

1 large can diced tomatoes

2 large cans of tomato sauce

1 can of tomato paste

3 Tbs Oregano

1 Tbs Basil

1 Tbs Garlic Salt

1 Tbs Sugar

Dice the onion, and mince the garlic. Sauté both in the bottom of a large stock pot with a Tbs of olive oil.  Add ground beef and brown while breaking up the meat.  Once the meat is cooked drain the fat off.  Return the meat to the pot and add the cans of tomatoes, sauce and paste (play with the sauce/paste combination until you get the consistency you like. I prefer mine thicker but it is personal).  Add spices – the quantities here are estimates and again you should flavor to your taste preferences.  Turn the heat to low and let simmer for 10 minutes.   If desired you can also add mushrooms or diced zucchini.  Add them with the tomatoes and just make sure you simmer the pot long enough to cook the veggies.

Depression, Family Life

The Clouds Start To Part

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You wake up one morning and it feels like somebody has rearranged your bedroom while you slept.  Something is different but you aren’t quite sure what has been moved.  You feel different. A good different.  Suddenly getting out of bed seems possible. That pile of dishes in the sink? Not really that big of a deal.  And you realize, for the first time, the clouds are parting.  The anti-depressant medication is working. You can breathe again and I do.  I breathe deep and long. I tentatively step back into my life like a skittish cat escaping from a box.  The depression this time around has been dark, very, very dark. The hopelessness and sadness smothered me and I wasn’t sure I would find my way out, but I am making my way.

It has been hard enough dealing with the sadness but David and I have had so much more on our plate.  The new house, the new baby, work problems, and all that stress has stretched our marriage as far as it can go.  At some point when so much is piled on, you can’t help but eventually turn on each other. At times it has felt like David and I have been hanging off a cliff and the only thing preventing us from falling off is that God and family have a firm hold of our heels.

We’re not out of the woods – not yet. We haven’t quite made it over the top of the mountain but we can see the top. In the meantime our family has run ahead of us and reached a hand down to help us along.  That is what family does.  I find myself repeating again, again from Lucy’s ABC Bible Verses “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding” – Proverbs 3:5  I don’t know why so much change and turmoil has come upon us at the same time but it has.  What I do know is that all this conflict has forced David and I to take a hard look at our life and path.  Sometimes in order for you to make a dramatic change in your life you need dramatic conflict.  I will not and cannot lean on my own understanding and so faith is all I have left.

Depression, Family Life, Pregnancy

PostPartum

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It would be so much easier if I woke up and my body was covered in a rash.  Perhaps I could have a small cough or drippy nose. I would then know. It would be obvious that something was wrong with me, but that isn’t how it happens.  At first you attribute the mood swings to the stress happening in your life. I mean who wouldn’t be a bit frazzled after moving and having a new baby? Of course it is stress.  And the constant stream of tears? Well, I did just have a baby my hormones are just normalizing.  Everybody has bad days.  The loss of patience and irritability? I haven’t slept well in weeks and any normal person would be a bit annoyed.  At some point it becomes harder and harder to explain and justify. And then it happens.  After Max was born it was uncontrollable anger at David for leaving his coffee cup in the sink after I had just finished the dishes.  This time it was being so frustrated at Lucy I gently pushed her out of my bedroom and locked the door.  I didn’t throw her to the ground, or hurt her, or violently push her – but push her I did, and the underlying anger that was bubbling inside of me was scary.

Depression. Postpartum depression.

Depression isn’t like any other kind of illness. You can’t go to the doctor and point to a physical ailment and say “fix this”.  It is like a toxic gas that slowly creeps into your life. You know that something doesn’t smell quite right but you can’t figure out where it is coming from until you are doubled-over sick with toxicity.  And once you are sick it taints everything around it. 

I spend most of my days feeling overwhelmed and on the verge of tears.  All I can think about is wanting to sleep. If I could just sleep. And yet, even when the baby is asleep I can’t sleep. Insomnia plagues me at night.  Every obstacle and daily frustration feels like an insurmountable problem that needs to be faced. My mind restlessly wanders from one thought to the next never settling.  I’m incapable of decision making.  Just getting dressed or deciding what I’ll cook for dinner paralyzes me.  I spend hours aimlessly knocking around my house unable to focus my mind on any one task.  My inner voice obssessively chants; “So sad. I’m so sad.”

My only comfort is David.  His presence seems to settle the demons and lets me be at ease – even for an hour. I know what I need to do. I’ll make the necessary calls to doctors to get medicine prescribed and people to help and people to talk to about it.  In the meantime I feel a bit like Eeyore waiting for the rain cloud to blow away.