Spirit Week

This school year has certainly been different for my kids.  There have been many reasons,  but what I'd like to "untangle" from today is all the "spirit weeks"  they've been having. 

When I went to High School,  spirit week was usually held during homecoming football week.  It was anticipated with many plans of outfits wanting to outdo each other.  Since,  my son,  goes to a small private school without a football team,  they have spirit week on the last week of school.  This is met with much joy since they are required to wear uniforms (same red polo with navy pants or skirts) the whole year through.  I like seeing the creativity the kids put into their spirit week.



But this year has been different for my girls.   I think they have had at least 8 spirit weeks.  I would see them emerge from their room dressed in a disney character or in a tutu & wonder what the occasion was & their reply was that it was spirit week.  I have wondered aloud if the highschool thinks the students needed help knowing how to dress for the day & have received the "octave drop" Mah----(say it with dropping the octave & don't get caught rolling your eyes)--om.  I not sure what the theme of today was,  but I know my girls were not "into" it.  I heard them saying to each other,  that they didn't get the txt to dress up & that they didn't really care.

This reminds me of a story I read about a little boy wishing it was Christmas everyday.  He got his wish & every morning,  he'd wake up to find his Christmas stocking filled.  It was fine & even exciting at first,  but then,  he had too many toys & candy.  The music was annoying & he had enough Jingle Bells.  I can't remember if it stayed winter in the book.  But I can so relate to having too much of snow (it actually snowed where I live this past Wednesday... this year April didn't bring showers... but SNOW!).  I think the moral of the story was that sometimes you can have too much of a good thing & be careful what you wish for.

Two weeks ago,  I substituted for my Sunday School class of normally 7-10 women.  I had several different lessons planned,  but nothing really excited me.  We had a guest speaker preach & he talked about preparing our hearts for Jesus.  And as I was sitting in the pew,  I thought,  that would be a great topic for our class disscussion & I can learn how the ladies prepared their homes & families for the Easter season. 

Unfortunately,  another adult class didn't have their usual teacher show up & they dispersed to other classes.  Many of the husbands joined our circle.  This was not going to be a fluff discussion on decorations & recipe sharing (though my piano teacher did give me a recipe for resurrection cookies http://www.motherhoodonadime.com/kids/resurrection-cookies-printable-recipe/)

One of the men brought up that we need to prepare our hearts for Jesus everyday & we shouldn't wait just for the Easter season.  Oh,  we had a lively discussion that day because both sides were right.  Every day,  every hour,  EVERY moment,  our hearts need to be soften to Jesus & His leading.  We need to be grateful for His life & forgiveness ALL the time.  But,  we have chosen as a culture,  to celebrate His resurrection during this time of Easter. 

I grew up Catholic & it wasn't just Holy Week,  but 40 days of "spiritual outfitting".   It really didn't mean that much to me until I became a Christian.  It was more of a religious duty rather than a time of renewal.  And until I learn the meaning of the rituals,  it was tiresome. 

And so,  I've been pondering,  if we had Holy Week like the highschool has been having Spirit week throughout the year,  would it lose it significance? 

Doors

I've been pondering about doors in my life lately.  Maybe,  because I've been looking at old pictures (have had to get them out for Sr slideshow both for Sweetpea Princess & Superstar) & revisiting my word for the year.... MOVE.

As I was looking through my photo albums,  I noticed that quite a few were taken in front of our doors.  I'm not sure why,  but it brought up so many memories. In one of the houses that we lived ,  I wanted to have red doors.  So,  for Mother's Day that year,  Daddy & the girls took the doors off & in our front yard,  painted them a lovely brick red.  I think that has to be one of my favorite presents.  I was so proud of those beautiful doors,  but I absolutely loved my paint streak beauties & how they chattered through the whole process.  It was bittersweet when we moved from that house to live closer to my mom & Daddy's dream job of being an engineer.

 The following year,  we drove by the house & saw that the new owners had replace the doors.  I wish I had known,  I think I would have taken those red doors with me.  I loved those red doors.

But,  those red doors wouldn't fit the house that we are living in now.  I don't think that red would even look right on the house.  Some people try,  but it doesn't fit.  The doors that I have now are appropriate for the time period that the house was built.  If I had enough money,  I'd commission my husband's cousin to make a stain glass window to go above the door.  Maybe,  the kids will read these & take the hint for another Mother's Day present (but this time about a window).                                              





The red door, just, doesn't fit in our lives anymore because we've MOVED.  And now,  I'm seeing so many doors in my life open.

 

I don't want to say that I've moved on because in saying that I feel like I'm saying I've forgotten.  I will never forget.  It's just that I have to move forward & go through certain doors which means some doors will close.  It's these decisions that are scary.

 I"ve also been pondering that if there will be doors in Heaven.  Jesus said that there will be many mansions & He left to prepare a place for us.  I wonder if there are doors,  they'll just be left open.  Heaven will be wonderful. I'm holding on patiently expecting (HOPE).

prayfit

http://www.prayfit.com/
So,  I'm revisting my word for the year,  which was MOVE,  because I started doing an exercise dvd this morning.  That's it,  that's all I want to say... sigh...

Journaling & letter writing

I've been journaling for what seems all my life.  When I was young,  it was in a book with a lock & I always started it with,  "Dear Diary".  I would try to write my inner most thoughts,  but they were quite juvenile.  But,  ha,  I was a juvenile.  Later,  in my teenage years,  I would write because I had no one else to talk to (since I was an only child).  There were many pages of just plain "angst" where I would fill pages with so much pain of feeling left out or misunderstandings that are so frequent during those adolescent years.  After I became a Christian,  my journals became more like prayers & instead of starting with "Dear Diary",  it would begin with "Oh Father God".  I love reading through those ones as they are full of wonder & praise.  In my college years,  my journals were a mix of Sunday sermon notes,  prayer requests,  angst again (I wasn't sure I would get through my college years with all the expectations that weren't from me.... but then that's another blog topic) & updates of events.  When I graduated,  my journals dwindled to lists.  The title topics ranging from what needed to get done that day to dreams & objectives to seeing those goals through.  I had become less introspective & was writing more letters to friends. 

I was traveling to other countries & frequently sent postcards with snippets of my comings & goings.  I was working a shift that I needed letter writing to stay awake & sometimes to not focus on the mundane or tragic nature of my job.  I was wanting to stay connected with my friends from college & those that I met on my travels.  One of those friends became my husband.  I think because we lived 4 states away from each other our "dating" was so much more richer as we shared more than dinner & a movie.  But had to share our insides through what was like journaling.

After we were married,  the journals again became lists,  but then turned to baby books as we wanted to record first steps & first words.  I started taking a million pictures & my journals were scrapbooks with cute stickers & coodinating paper.  I wrote letters,  but mostly to my mom sending pictures of her grandbabies.  I'm so glad I took so many pictures of Daddy & his kids.  Sometimes,  I wonder how many memories they actually have of the real event or it's because they have a picture of it.  But that doesn't matter.  They have it.

Because of cancer,  my journaling turned introspective as I sat by a hospital bed,  writing my prayers out,  pleading to God for my husband's healing.  But he died & I stopped journaling.  I even stopped taking pictures for awhile.  The only thing is that life was still happening around me.  And I had to go back to writing lists.  Mostly,  because I couldn't remember to buy milk at the grocery store if I didn't write it down. 

I had to stop & I had to do.... & so I wrote list.  And I started taking pictures again.  I took my kids to wonderful places & I had to take their memories.  And I started journaling again.  Mostly,  what we did but hardly ever how I felt.  And so,  I think I've come to the place where I'm journaling to finally get the angst out.  Just like when I was a teenager.  It's good to journal.  It's good to get it out.  It's good to write letters.... even if it's just yourself.  By the way,  I am writing more "snail" letters,  so those of you who I count as my friends,  be expecting them.  They will probably be more rambling than I would like them to be,  but I'm writing again... & that is good.