School Days

My little Jack-a-roo started school this week. He is in the Young 5's class at Lincoln Elementary; officially a South Haven Ram now. I, like the emotional mother I am, cried like a baby his first day of school. I did save my tears for after I left his classroom, but trust me, they flowed. I couldn't believe I was leaving my little boy in that big classroom for the whole day.

I saw my friend Senice in the parking lot when walking back to my car. She asked me if Jack had, all of a sudden, seemed like a little boy this last week; more grown up. I realized he absolutely had. My baby was disappearing and being replaced by a boy. It made me sad, and happy, and proud all at once. And I realized that's what the tears were for.

So as I think about my little boy, and not my baby, here is what I am most proud of:

• Jack entered that Kindergarten room confident. He had no problem with my leaving him there. He came in, checked things out, and found a spot to play. He had no tears and no fears.

• He is eager to make friends. He told me about being excited to show the other kids his new backpack. He told me about playing with kids on the playground.

• He is honest. While he knew I wouldn't really like the answer, he was honest that he ate all his cheese pizza, but did not eat any of the salad or grapes that came with it. I praised his honesty, but, being me, I also talked about the importance of eating fruits and veggies.

• He had a big smile on his face when I saw him at the end of the day. I'm sure his day had its share of uncertainty and stress, but he was smiling at the end of it. He made his way through it and was happy.

Jack's first day was great, which makes me unbelievably happy. Here are some pics from the big day:

 Breakfast - maybe not quite ready for the day!

 NOW we're ready for the day!

 Brett had to be just like his big brother and wear his backpack!

 My boys and their packs

 My happy little boy

 Waiting for the doors to open (it was a little chilly!)

In front of Jack's new classroom

Reflections a Decade Later

On the radio the other morning was a montage of music and sound bites from a decade ago. Specifically, from September 11, 2001 and the days immediately after. As the tenth anniversary approached, I saw and heard more and more about that day. The programs about the attacks and in remembrance of those who died. The recollections of where people were and what they were doing. It was definitely being brought to the front of people's minds again.

I was teaching third grade in Battle Creek on 9/11. My friend and colleague, Sarah, came over to my classroom and said her husband had called or emailed that a plane had crashed into one of the towers in New York. I got the kids going on an assignment and went to cnn.com. I caught the first reports coming in. At that point, no one knew what was really happening. Shortly after, I was no longer able to get to the website. I later learned all the major news sites crashed because of the traffic to them.

I was isolated inside a school with no TV or radio. It didn't really hit me because I hadn't seen anything or heard much. The principal came into the staff lunch room and said a decision was made to not mention anything to students. It was the parents' decision and choice as to what to tell their children. Parents started arriving early to pick their kids up. I still didn't quite get it.

Then I got home. And I, like so many others, sat in front of the TV for hours. And then for days. I cried at the stories. I prayed for the families. And I held on to hope for so long that they would find more people. That they would save more people. Then I cried again when the inevitable message came that the rescue effort had become a recovery effort.

I, like so many others, rediscovered my pride in my country and my patriotism. I wore my American flag pin. I said the Pledge of Allegiance with a little more meaning. And I sang God Bless America in the middle of baseball games. But I also had questions. How could this happen? How did we not know it was coming, with our vast network of intelligence systems and agents? How could anyone be evil enough to come up with this plan?

So where am I a decade later? I have to admit, my patriotism has faded. I once again question certain characteristics of my country and its leaders. But I also have to admit, I do so because of a commitment to the people of my country. I may be embarrassed by the actions of a vast number of people in my country, but I am proud of my commitment to do something to help others in need whenever and however I can. Perhaps patriotism has not been the lasting impact of 9/11 for me, but service to my community has.

A decade later I still have the same questions. I still don't know how that tragic day happened. I have watched countless hours of commentary and analysis and theories, but I think it all points to the simple truth that none of us know how this happened. Maybe we all just didn't know that level of evil existed. We didn't know what we didn't know. But unfortunately, I think that day, and in the days after, we all lost a little bit of innocence, and faith, and hope. Perhaps that is another lasting impact of 9/11 for me, and for all of us watching that day.

So on this anniversary, my thoughts turn to the victims and their families. I doubt many people in this country escaped this tragedy without knowing someone that was lost, or someone that lost a loved one. I pray that they have all found some kind of peace and a way to keep going. And I promise them that I will continue to remember the impact of their loss, and use it to fuel my commitment to help others whenever I can. I also promise to someday, when they are older, teach my children the lessons to be learned from that day. I can't answer the questions I am sure they will have, because I don't know how someone could do this. But I hope their generation can find the innocence, the faith, and the hope that the rest of us lost that day.

One Year Later...

One year ago today, my life was forever changed. Usually what follows a sentence like that is something about marrying the love of your life, or giving birth to a beautiful baby. I don't have a happy ending for my sentence. One year ago today my mom fell and hit her head on the concrete driveway, causing a bleed in her brain. What followed after was a long and incomplete recovery, the destruction of my relationship with my parents, the rise of alcoholism in my dad, a long and pointless legal battle, and basically a trip through hell, one in which I am still waiting for the "and back again" part. One year later and not much is better, it is simply far, far worse than I ever could have imagined it would be.

When I sat down to write this, I realized this can't be how my story ends. This glass-half-empty girl, can't have a completely empty glass at the end of all this. I have to find some good. I have to fill my glass. So here's the good that has come out of the past year of my life.

I have realized I am far stronger than I ever would have known. At least a dozen times over the past year I have said to Troy, "I can't take any more. This is my limit." And then there would be more. So I've come to know that no matter what hell comes my way, I may hate it, and I may wish with everything I have for it to get better, but if it doesn't, I will continue to exist and plow through each and every day.

I found faith this past year. For most of my life, I have had a kind of on-again-off-again relationship with God. Through high school and college I went from being involved in church to not involved and back and forth. After college, I became somewhat anti-organized religion. I viewed it as historically a way to control the masses, get people to behave the way the powers that be wanted them to through the threat of exclusion. This past year, the relationship got even more dicey. For awhile, I was angry at God for allowing everything to happen. I mean really angry. But the more I went to church (for Jack's involvement, initially), and the more people who told me they were praying for me, the more I would feel moments of peace. I've come to realize, and am trying to accept, that while God let those things happen, He gave me the strength and the people to get me through them.

I have forged a bond with my sister that is, I am certain, unbreakable. My sister and I were close to begin with. Ever since I moved back to St. Joe, across the street from her, we had been getting closer and becoming even better friends. We knew about each other's pregnancies before the rest of the world knew, we had numerous conversations that started, "I couldn't tell anyone else this, but…" and we talked probably more days than not. But we went through this past year together in a way no one else could. It was truly a shared experience. They are our parents, and no one else had that common thread, or so much emotional investment, as the two of us. We may have lost the rest of our immediate family, but I will never feel alone for the rest of my life. I have my sister.

Finally, I gained the courage to change my life this past year. I had hated my job for so long. But change was scary for me. I came to a point where I realized I no longer had anything to lose. I had to get out of St. Joe. I couldn't continue to be the first responder to my parents' numerous emergencies simply because I was the closest one there. I couldn't continue to wonder who all knew the gossip going around town about my dad and his drinking, or my brother and his various jail sentences. I found and went after another job. And I love it. It took having nothing to lose, for me to be open to having something to gain.

So a year later, I resolve to be more aware of how full my glass is. Maybe the glass-half-empty girl you have come to know is evolving. I may not always see my glass the right way, but after everything I have gone through, there are certainly days when I realize that my cup runneth over.