And Then The Deer

I had a really good day on Saturday. 

A friend came for lunch and stayed for tin art. 

Heidi the Librarian came to tin art as well. 

We all hung out in the studio,

Creating, chatting, and singing 80’s music. 

We ate together and played Word on the Street with my parents and

Just had a lovely, stress-relieving time. 

 

Then I got a text from my friend on her way home. 

“So. I just hit a deer.

 

Thankfully, my friend is okay and 

She was able to drive her car home. 

But her car is likely totaled and 

That’s a hard pill to swallow. 

 

…

 

If I’m honest, 

I must admit that I’m sometimes afraid to have a good time 

Because I’m afraid of the other shoe falling.

I know it’s just my anxiety.

I know that life doesn’t punish us for having moments of joy.

But the thoughts of bad balancing out good are still there.

And evidently, this is very human.   

 

Yet it’s no way to live.

Not really. 

 

The challenge of living is to be present exactly where we are,

In good times and bad. 

To savor joyful moments and celebrate happiness.

To laugh and smile often. 

To eat, drink, and be merry. 

And then, in the moments that are difficult,

To acknowledge how we’re feeling,

To name our stress and anxiety,

To declare that sometimes things suck,

To mourn and to weep, 

To fall back on the strength of moments when things were okay, and 

To take the next right step to get through. 

 

…

 

Saturday was a day of joy and laughter for me. 

I was not worried about anything

Other than the design of my tin art. 

I was with friends.

I was with family. 

I was happy.

My friend was too. 

And then the deer. 

 

Oh God: Life is up and down. Help us not to miss one for the other. Amen. 

Fury

My first upside down roller-coaster was the Carolina Cyclone at Carowinds. I was at Carowinds with my youth group from Tabor City Baptist City Church. That same day was the same day that I learned never to wear jeans shorts to an amusement part. Wet jeans from water rides. Walking around all day. Let’s just say that it’s not a good idea!

I revisited the Carolina Cyclone at Carowinds on Saturday. I rode in the front car. The ride was a bit jerkier than the newer coasters, but it is still a fun ride. And I’m not so sure that I’d have had the courage to ride it again had I not been gently coerced onto the Fury 325 as soon as I arrived at the park.

For those of you who don’t know, the Fury 325 is the World’s tallest and fastest giga coaster. It is 325 feet high, has an 81 degree angle of descent, and travels approximately 95 mph. The track is quite intimidating as it towers over the rest of the park and the super-long line is quite daunting. Yet it was that super-long line that gave me the space to find the courage to actually ride.

Folks: I am not a young whipper-snapper anymore. I get dizzy if I spin around with my students just once and I get motion sick if I even think about reading while riding in a car or doing anything while riding on a boat. My bones are starting to ache and my family medical history is starting to become my medical history and, before Saturday, I genuinely wasn’t sure if I would be able to ride roller coasters anymore—and that was a very sad thought to me—because my nephews love roller coasters—and I do, too, truth be told.

So…when I got to Carowinds on Saturday and I saw the Fury 325, I immediately snapped a picture, sent it to my mom, and said, “I’m thinking about making Jack proud.” Jack is my oldest nephew who currently wants to be a roller coaster designer and operator. By the time my mom wrote me back and said that she hoped I wasn’t thinking about it too seriously, I was able to immediately respond, “I DID IT! IT WAS AWESOME!” Shortly after that, my sister-in-law wrote me and told me that Jack was super impressed. I felt as if all of my worldly goals had been accomplished in that moment!

Once I made it down that crazy steep drop and realized that I wasn’t going to die, I embraced my inner child, screamed super loud, and released my hands from the safety bars to pretend like I was flying. I did this on every ride that I rode and I rode every ride that I could ride and I would have ridden more had the park not closed. Needless to say, after overcoming what had become a really huge fear, I had a really great time at Carowinds.

Yesterday at church, Mister Pastor Patrick reiterated a point that I think we too often forget: It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. If we look at the story of God and God’s people, then we see God’s desire for this freedom: freedom from death, freedom from slavery, freedom from fear, freedom from anything that separates us from the love and goodness of God.

I suppose it may seem like a stretch to connect a fear of roller coasters to God. After all, roller coaster riding is a purely optional recreational activity designed for pleasure. And yet…the fear that I felt as I stood in line to ride the Fury 325 was so much bigger than a roller coaster. The fear that was paralyzing me was the fear of getting older—of losing my abilities to do things I love. The fear that was paralyzing me was the fear of not being able to breathe—of the anxiety and panic that come with the feeling of not being able to catch a good breath. The fear that was paralyzing me was the fear of not being good enough for my nephews—of disappointing them because I couldn’t do an activity that they hold dear to their hearts. The fear that was paralyzing me was the fear of looking stupid—of having heads turn toward me in sympathy should I get sick.

I spoke about these fears with the friends who were with me. And I wrote about these fears with my youth minister who wasn’t able to attend Carowinds that day. I asked her to pray for me—as stupid as that sounded—after all, I was going on a purely optional recreational activity designed for pleasure—and she did. And I felt those prayers. And I celebrated with my friends as I walked off that ride having overcome my fears.

It’s hard to know exactly what Jesus would do if he were around today, but part of me thinks that he’d have been in line to ride roller coasters with my friends and me, and part of me thinks that he’d really like them. I guess that’s why I found it so easy to imagine him with me and to hear him say, “It is for freedom that I have set you free, Deanna. Not to do ridiculously stupid things that will inevitably hurt you or others but to do things that will allow you to grow and trust and to have faith and believe and to allow you to live life to the fullest—in me—who has set you free. These fears that are binding you are bigger than this roller coaster—they are fears not of God—they are paralyzing you—but you can overcome them. Today. I am with you. Today. I will not forsake you. Today. Tomorrow. And in all the days to come.”

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free, friends.
And it is for overcoming damning fears that God cheers with Fury.

I'll Take It

I think something died in my hut.

It certainly smells like it.

But the whole room smells so bad that we can’t figure out where the dead carcass might be.

In the ceiling? In the wall? In the floor? In some hidden corner?

Or there might not be a dead carcass.

Who knows.

All we know is that my room stinks.

Really badly it stinks.

And for someone with a strong sensitivity to smell,

It’s made for a sickeningly frustrating week.


Instead of coming home extremely ill today, though, I came home smiling. Even with arms still sticky from an emergency freezer clean-out in the workroom (which last year pushed me over the edge around this time of year), I am smiling. Here are the four reasons why:


1) As one of the assistants picked up her class this morning, I noticed that we were dressed alike: khaki capri pants with an orange tank top under our Team Julie shirts. I looked at her and said, “We’re twins!” Then I said, “Look kids! We’re twins! If I were walking down the road, then I wouldn’t be able to tell us apart.” Then we heard someone say, “Noooo! You don’t look alike, Ms. Deaton. Ms. E has a streak in her hair.” I said, “Oooh. So if I go get a streak in my hair, THEN we’ll be twins.” “Noooo! Your shoes don’t match.” “Her hair is shorter than yours.” “You don’t have on socks, Ms. D.” So on and so forth. Here’s the thing: Ms. E is black; Ms. D is white. It’s very clear that we’re not twins. But that one obvious fact never crossed the kids’ minds. I looked at Ms. E and said, “I love how kids think.” And I do.


2) Kindergarten. Students are singing and dancing. A tiny,cute, curly-headed boy urgently walks behind my desk, insistently taps me on the hip, then looks up at me and says, "Do you have any chips?" I wasn't sure that I'd understood him, so I said, "What, baby?" He said, "I need some chips. "I chuckled and said, "No, baby. I don't have any chips." He said, "Okay," and then walked back to his place and continued dancing. I was laughing so hard that I called Barb to share. She said, "It's sort of like, 'Got milk?'" and laughed, too. Then, at the end of the day, as this student sat in the car-rider line, I said, “Hey. Did you ever get your chips?” He said, “No. I got some cookies.”


3. This week’s character education writing challenge was to write about someone who has persevered. As I read this week’s submissions, I found myself feeling a full range of emotions. Some stories were of book characters. Some were original works of fiction. Some were heart-breaking stories of reality that helped me better understand the things our students deal with. And one was the emphatic declaration, “I am perseverance”—although I’m pretty sure that this emphatic declaration was more of an accident than a statement. I’m pretty sure that the student didn’t know how to turn the word perseverance into “someone who perseveres” or any other form of the word. Regardless, what she wrote was pretty awesome. It was something like this: “I am perseverance because I didn’t give up when my teacher gave me a problem that was hard. At first, I didn’t understand it but I kept trying until I got it right. I am perseverance. Now, every time my teacher gives me a new problem, I know that I can do it. I am perseverance.”


4. I received one distinguished on this year’s summative evaluation: Teacher provides an environment in which each child has a positive, nurturing relationship with a caring adult. I’ll take it…


…even if I’m currently building positive, nurturing relationships in a hut that stinks.

An Odd Spring Break Adventure

It didn’t occur to me that I could have gone out of town for Spring Break until it was too late to make proper plans. So. I’ve spent the week at home.

I rested Monday.
I took an adventure on Tuesday.
I saw a friend and babysat my boy and girl yesterday. We watched “Big Hero Six.” It was very good.
Today I saw two other friends, visited Massage Envy for a massage, and got stranded in Target during a flash flood warning.
And tomorrow I will…I don’t know what I’ll do. Maybe I’ll do a bit of nothing. [Update: I stayed home all day and cleaned a bit while watching a “Cold Case” marathon. I also finished a puzzle with my mom.]

It’s been a good week. Nothing overly abnormal except for Tuesday’s adventure…which was, hands down, my memorable Spring Break experience.

Those of you who know me well know that leg-shaving is not at the top of my priority list. The way I see it, there are much more important things that I could do with my time. Even reading these sentences, some of you are probably cringing at the thought of hairy legs. Non-hairy legs are the cultural norm for women; it’s what we are expected to show the world. But, truthfully, it doesn’t bother me not to have clean-shaven legs. I’ve even gotten used to the looks that I so often get—the up and down glances and looks of confusion as to why a female would not have clean-shaven legs.

But here’s the deal: it bothers me knowing that my natural legs bother some of the people whom I love.

And so, on Tuesday morning, as I sat in the pedicure chair of my local nail salon, I looked at my natural legs and wondered: Do they wax legs here? It turns out they do.

Spring Break is a time when people tend to spend a lot of money doing things they ordinarily would not do—visit Disney, go on a cruise, rent a house in the mountains or at the shore, redecorate the house, buy a new car.

“I normally wouldn’t wax my legs,” I thought. “It’s nothing I’ve ever done, and it’s likely nothing I’ll do again. What the heck. Let’s do it.” So I did.

As I lay on the table in the little waxing room, feeling the warm wax being gently placed on my skin only to be coldly and harshly ripped away a few moments later, I thought to myself, “Ouch. This sort of hurts. But it’s not too bad.” As I continue to lay on the table in the little waxing room, I further thought to myself, “This is taking just as much time—if not more time—than shaving. Yet. I’m not doing the work. I’m just laying here. Laying here is nice. Except for the frequent hair-ripping that sort of hurts. But it’s not too bad. And my legs should stay non-hairy a bit longer than a regular shave. And that’s good.”

Well over two hours after my leg-waxing adventure began, I left the nail salon with lovely painted toes and hair-free legs. I was one of only two people in the salon when I adventurously agreed to go through with the crazy procedure, but when it came time to actually begin the process, the salon had filled up and the owner was running run back and forth between customers. Right front leg, knee down. Wait at least thirty minutes while the owner did other peoples’ nails. Left front leg, knee down. Right back leg, knee down. Wait at least thirty more minutes. Go buy coffee for me and the nail salon owner. Left back leg, knee down. Then knees. Then done. Thankfully, I had work to do while I waited. And thankfully, I was in a pleasant mood for my Spring Break adventure.

Sometimes life isn’t full of grand vacations to exotic locations. Sometimes work keeps us at home. Sometimes family. Sometimes finances. Sometimes health. But one thing I’ve learned this week is this: There are adventures around us waiting to be had. It could be in rescuing the dog from a thunderstorm at 5:30 in the morning or buying food for the family’s new pet or losing the Easter eggs that you hid in your own backyard or finding a note of encouragement at the bottom of a pile of papers in your really messy office. Whatever they are, there are adventures around us waiting to be had. And who knows…maybe your adventures—like mine—will result in things positive…like clean-shaven legs.

What adventures have you had this week?

Rover

Tonight, I was a rover.

I roved around the high school that was hosting the first of four nights of Harnett Off-Broadway, and I acted like I knew what I was doing when people looked lost or asked questions—the most popular of which was, “Where is the restroom?”

It’s amazing just how official a clipboard made me.

Other than directing people to the bathroom, my most important job as Rover was to secretly sell tickets to the handful of people who, for whatever reason, showed up at the performance without them.

Folks, I was terrible at trying to secretly sell tickets.

I found myself looking over my shoulder, hoping that no one saw what I was doing, wishing that the transaction would end very quickly, feeling like I was doing something really wrong even though I had Rover permission to sell.

And here’s what I realized: I would be a terrible drug dealer.

Good thing I have a steady day job, eh?
:-)

Just Another Manic Monday

Mom: Dee, you need to go get your father.
Me: Now?
Mom: Yes. He’s at the car place. It seems as if your car wouldn’t start when he tried to start it this morning, so he went to the Napa place to get something to jump your battery. But he didn’t put your car in park when he left, so it rolled down the driveway by itself but it stopped just short of the ditch. And he set off the alarm.
Me: Umm. Okay…

Such was the beginning of my Monday. My dad’s plan was to take my car to a local mechanic to have it checked out. The check engine light had come on Saturday. Along the way, he had the above eventful episode. I slept through it all. And then I chuckled in horrific amusement when I heard what had happened. (Dad blames all of the “junk” around my gear shift for his not putting the car in park). And finally I chuckled in not-surprised amusement after the mechanic told me that my car was fixed but the check engine light came right back on while I was driving home. Thankfully, I won’t be doing my normal amount of driving over Christmas break. It sounds like my car needs a 273,454 mile break and then a specialist’s visit to follow.

While my car was at the local mechanic’s shop today, I enjoyed a dreary day at home. Because wrapping presents is close to the top of my list of things I most dislike to do, I had a productive day in my living quarters—doing many of the things that I’ve needed to do for months but not made time for—sorting junk mail, filing papers, writing notes, finding things lost. Procrastination is often a useful tool in cleaning; it just doesn’t help with the present wrapping. NCIS marathons are also useful for cleaning; and I hope that they will be useful for present wrapping after I finish this note tonight.

Speaking of presents…On my way to get my dad from the mechanic’s shop this morning, I saw that Percy-the-Dog’s family had put two cans of soda and one tin of cookies on top of their trashcan. At first, I thought, “That’s a weird place to leave trash.” Then I realized, “That’s not trash. They left a Christmas gift for the trash-men. What a great idea. What a loving idea. Maybe people should do that more often.” When I got home from retrieving my dad, I worked with both of my parents to become copycats and leave a small present for our trash-men.

When I went to pick up my car from the local mechanic, I saw a bag of sausage balls, a cheese tray, and some other finger foods that tend to show up at appreciation luncheons or celebrations. I thought to myself, “Someone wants her mechanic to know that he is appreciated.”

I don’t know about you, but I’d gag on a daily basis if I were a sanitation worker and my car would be very dead if I were left to do its repairs…therefore, I am genuinely grateful for sanitation workers and the work they do to keep our towns and streets clean and I am genuinely grateful for mechanics and the work they do to keep our transportation vehicles running. And yet, I rarely say thank you. Maybe I should say thank you more often…and not just on manic Mondays around Christmas.

Willard Pride

I got Old Man Willard when I started full-time graduate school in 2007.

That summer, I was working at a camp and one of my primary jobs was to supply shop at Walmart.

As I was exiting the store one day, with two full carts of stuff, I rounded the corner and almost ran over Willard the Walmart Greeter.

That day, I named my computer Willard. Willard is a Dell Inspiron.

Last week, I was entrusted with a school laptop. Currently, I have a MacBook Air, but I will likely need to exchange it for a MacBook Pro. Either way, I’m thrilled to have a school laptop. I’ve never had one before.

And their names? Respectively--Little Willamina and Willamina.

Here’s to hoping for a good year with Willard and the Willaminas…mixed computer types they be.

--------------

On a more serious note:

Sometimes my pride gets the best of me. So when it does, I must remember:

I am not savior of this world.

I cannot single-handedly and instantly change the culture of any system or organization. I can influence the system and initiate new movement but I cannot instantly cause change…good or bad.

I do not always know the best way to complete a task.

I will not always be the best.

I do not and will not know everything.

Not everyone likes, respects, and/or connects with me, nor can I make them.

And all of this? All of it is okay.

Clean Underwear

**Cute Story Alert**

Last weekend the kids came for the third session of Nana Camp 2013.

On Friday night, as they were preparing for their baths, Amelia came downstairs with a distressed look on her face. She couldn’t find any clean underwear.

“Aunt Dee, may you help me find my underwear?”

I looked. But I couldn’t find clean underwear either. Evidently, she had worn it all during a week at the beach.

I suggested that she turn her underwear inside out. No.

I suggested that she go without underwear for the night so that we could wash her underwear for the morning. No.

“You have to have clean underwear to go to bed,” she said.

A few weeks earlier, on our camping trip, she had declared: “This is how you get ready for bed: You take a shower, put on clean underwear and pajamas, brush your teeth, and go to bed.”

Clearly, dirty underwear was not an option for Amelia, so a quick trip to the store did I make.

With 11-year-old Jack.

Not being a frequent Maxway shopper, I wasn’t sure where the little girl’s underwear was shelved. After a few minutes of walking around the store, passing ladies underwear and bras along the way, Jack sheepishly said, “This is kind of weird.”

Chuckling, I said, “I bet it is. You don’t have any little sisters."

“Nope. I’ve never done this before.”

When we finally found the little girl’s underwear, we spent about five minutes trying to decide if “4” and “4T” were the same thing. One we realized they were, we identified three options for Amelia: Dora, Disney Princesses, or Minnie Mouse. Immediately dismissing Dora, we discussed the merits of the other two and decided on Minnie Mouse.

When we got home, Amelia was playing in the bathtub. Upon looking at her new three-pack of underwear, she said, “Hmm. I think I was hoping for princesses or something.”

Expecting that reaction, I said, “Yes. We knew that. And we figured you already had Princess underwear. So we decided on Minnie Mouse so that every time you wore it you would think about Jack and me going to get it for you.”

My mom chimed in by saying, “And the same you came to Nana Camp with no underwear.”

As Amelia considered what I’d just said, about thinking about Jack and me every time she wore the new underwear, a smile formed on her face until she was flat out grinning.

“Yeh…” she said, beaming with love.

Love causes us to do and feel strange things.

I think of Jack’s willingness to put himself in a weird situation so that Amelia wouldn’t suffer from dirty underwear and I think of the smile that grew on Amelia’s face as she realized that her big cousin and I had chosen underwear just for her.

I’ve thought about this story many times this week, and each time it’s crossed my mind I’ve smiled at its sweetness.

I hope you’ve smiled too.

And I hope you have on clean underwear as you prepare for bed. If so, Amelia will be proud.

Why I Look Like A Tomato

My staff members say that I look like a cantaloupe instead of a tomato. But I think I look like a tomato—even if I do have on an orange shirt with seed-like holes in it. “Why do you look like a tomato?” you might ask. “Because I went floating on the lake without sunscreen,” I would say. “And I loved it.”

I’ve lived by the lake for two and a half years now, but I hadn’t been into the water until this weekend. Thanks to some adventurous friends who showed up at my apartment and waned to swim in the lake, I finally ventured into her waters…and it was awesome.

Dressed in my orange fish bathing suit and a bright orange life jacket, carrying a lovely blue noodle, I jumped into the lake’s refreshingly cool-warm waters and floated. I can’t float without a floatation device. After trying many, many times and even going through informal floatation lessons, I just can’t get my body to float. My butt sinks. But not with a life jacket and a nooooodle!

I wish that I could adequately describe how I felt floating on the lake yesterday. For someone who is always thinking and connecting one piece of the world to another and for someone who has tremendous difficulties relaxing, I floatingly sank into a place of total rest and peace as I put my complete trust in those floatation devices to keep me in contact with oxygen. I let the water take me where it would. Every once in awhile, a friend would gently grab my arm or leg and steer me back toward the dock so that I didn’t float too far away. But for the most part, it was just me and the water in this lovely, freeing unison of life. One of my friends said that I looked like I was waking up each time I sat up to be social. I said that I’d felt like I was waking up. In those moments, I had been completely relaxed, thinking of nothing but the present, feeling the sun’s warmth on my skin, silently praising God for the amazingly beautiful day and experience and the feeling that I was floating on God’s unfailing love. It was like nothing I can describe.

And so…today…I look like a tomato. Or cantaloupe. Either way. I’m a very happy tomato or cantaloupe who is extremely grateful for her apartment on the lake, her wonderful landlords, her adventurous friends, turtles, fish, water, lifejackets, noodles, and sunscreen (even when I don’t use it, get burnt, and end up looking like a tomato).