On Wheels....

I got to be thirteen again .... and I loved every minute of it!

For some unknown reason I have had a wild hair for about a week. Somewhere in my messed up mind, I needed to go roller-skating. I  needed the lights, the wind in my hair, and of course... “Supersonic” at a deafening level. I even tried to coerce two different friends to go with me. Being the voices of reason that I so desperately need, they both said “NO.” 

This was a disaster waiting to happen.

Now, Lindsey has been skating before, exactly-once. But, my little Anna Kate has never. She has never seen, or put on, the ugly, brown, four- wheeled, throw away your socks when you are finished and disinfect your feet skates. It was TIME for her to experience this right of childhood.

  I started off VERY apprehensive about the whole thing. I had a girl who could barely stand, and another who got out of the car, and in the parking lot decided that she would just sit it out altogether.

Not exactly a good start.

After convincing Anna Kate to walk into the building, she found her some courage. I, on the other hand, swallowed hard. I stood there knowing this could be a grand childhood memory or a massive therapy bill one day.


To say the least, we learned some valuable lessons that afternoon:

 Skates only work if you put them on.
It took a long while for Anna Kate to decide that she would skate. She watched, waited ,and she wondered about the sanity of all of this. You could read on her face the thoughts going through her little head . Why would we even try this when our two legs were just fine? I could see the struggle as she began thinking about riding a skateboard, playing a game,etc when she had to try something new  and it was good.  Remembering the difference between fine and fabulous.... and, in the end, she chose fabulous!

YOU make the skates work.
Lindsey put her skates on, then proceeded to start complaining. She insisted that they were faulty
and wanted new ones. She protested very loudly about how they wouldn't “go.” Now, keep in mind that she was just standing still during her relatively long tirade. She just stood there waiting for some magic to happen. I told her “There is no ON switch on skates my dear, you must move your feet in order for this to work.” Eureka! She started moving her feet and to her surprise, skating.

Instructions are no fun , but necessary.

The rink guard saw my girls skating and had a few things to say to them. He was a nice man who had some suggestions for them. AK looked at him and said “ I am doing good. I don't need you.” he smiled and said.... “Sweetheart, listen to me, I have done this a while and if someone is trying to help you , pay attention. They might make it a whole lot easier on you."  -  good advice

 Everyone starts off slowly.
I finally lured Anna Kate onto the rink. She was holding onto me for dear life. I had to gently explain to her that she would never ever skate until she learned to let go of me. She kept her eyes on me, or the skates, for our first few laps around the circle. Then it happened. She saw the other skaters and got just plain mad. She yelled at me to “Let go, she could do it. She didn't need me, or my help.” She wanted to go fast like everybody else. Much to her disappointment, that was not a very sound decision with her level of skill. She, of course fell, and fell, and fell. In her enthusiasm, to be something she wasn't, she skipped the basics,and all that left her was frustrated.


You can't go to the bathroom, on wheels, without lots of practice.

The inevitable happened. Someone always has to go to the bathroom. I knew that if the carpet was
difficult, and the rink even harder, then peeing on wheels could result into an epic nightmare. I wouldn't let her even try. I made her sit down and completely take off the
skates, put back on her shoes, and then go. It was a simple,everyday task, but throw in a new variable.... and everything changes. Sometimes wisdom, and experience must win out. This was a
“ Because I am the mother” moment. She didn't need all the details, just an obedient heart would save her a lot of pain and embarrassment.

Distraction can also make it dangerous.

We finally arrived at some stability. Both girls were up, and moving on their own when crowd began to grow. What was once a dimly lit room, morphed into a thirteen year old's dream; the strobe lights, loud music, and the floor flooding with preteens. Everything began to change. Getting caught up in the distractions started to interfere with their attention and skill. The lights and music and people were exciting, but somewhat unsafe on their skill level.

  Everyone falls down, skaters get back up

I looked up once and saw Lindsey on the ground. I went to her, but she just laid there. I dried her
tears, and tried to pull her back up. I couldn't.   I had to coach her, but she had to do it. I told her to get up..... and she said “No.” she was done and she was just going to stay there. I told her that this was
a skating rink ,not a sitting rink …. “skaters skate, now get up.” She finally decided that sitting there wasn't going to accomplish anything so she picked herself up and started again.

Sometimes it takes a while to get your balance

I had a hard time at first getting MY feet back under me. It honestly took a few times around the circle
before my body remembered what to do. I couldn't even begin to help,or encourage, much less teach, until I could do it without assistance.

  Beginning anything, with falling as your goal, is never going to be a good plan.

The DJ decided to play a game. Wipeout! Poor Lindsey is always the joiner. She will try anything
without fear. I warned her, but she was determined. Not knowing the rules, or even watching just once, she jumped right in.  She realized all too quickly,  this game hurts.
 
Being a mom and Skating have more similarities than you think.

As I think back, I can see it. My job as a mother, and every stage,was represented on the rink that afternoon. My babies started off needing me on so many levels, Not even taking a step without my
help. Then, little by little, they learned to stand for themselves. With instruction, and practice, they began to let go. They ran into some difficult situations. Some I could coach them through, and some
I just had to let them figure out on their own. 


Now, my girls are very young still, and we have a lifetime of lessons to endure. But it occurred to me as I removed this “too-old-to-roller-skate-body” off the rink, that they were in the middle of the floor dancing, singing and smiling. They were loving every minute of it. Doing what we came to do.

Without me.....

 I pray that one day their life will be like that. One day they will find themselves in the midst of the noise of life. One day they will be ready let go.

Right now is...... the hard part. The painful, back- breaking instructions, the trying, falling, and getting back up part.

But....
All this work will be for that moment.... the moment when I get to see them, confident, self- assured, and in love with the moments that God will give them. Enjoying their adventure, while fulfilling God's plan for their life.

and  I can't wait for that moment---- (Jam-on-it!)

This One's Mine

This One’s Mine.

               Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can never hurt you…

LIES!

               I have run the gamut of emotions this week.   I have been angry. I have been proud. I have cried a river of tears.  And God help those little girls who have made my daughter their target. The momma in me has felt the need to take some little prissy girls and well…

                I have seen bullying before.  I do teach school every single day. It is hard to believe I know, but I was once a kid.   I know the pain of careless words and actions.   I have dried the tears of other people’s children. I have interceded, stopped it. I have set a few kids straight in my day.

But this time it is different.  This time it is personal.  This time it is my child…..This One’s MINE! 

               I checked the story from all angles.  I made sure that there was no fault she could take.  No responsibility she needed to own up to. Her story checked out…..

 I was absolutely livid.

               But…..  I can’t be THAT mom.  I have always raised my girls to be strong, independent, problem solvers.  “Work the problem. We don’t quit, we don’t shrivel up.  We deal!”   I will lead and encourage, but I will not swoop in and solve it.  I have seen all too often the damage that can do.

 Adults with no life skills because momma fixed everything…  that is not the plan for my girls.

               “ Mommy, their goal is to make my life miserable.”  What do you do when you precious little fourth grade girl says that to you?  I wanted to go kick some tail,  but that doesn’t teach her what to do when I am not there.

I told her teacher ( who is an absolute angel) and she did EVERYTHING POSSIBLE TO HELP STOP IT.  But I know all too well the limitations of a teacher being absolutely everywhere all of the time.

               I tried to talk Lindsey through it, tell her to hold her head up, but little girls can be cruel.  I waited for it to get better, or for them to move on to another target……..

                                    After 3 weeks –   THIS MOMMA HAD ENOUGH!

 I had a teacher who witnessed it tell me how proud I should be of my daughter.  How she had to withstand a public lashing. (A lot can happen across a room, or even a hallway. It was stopped as soon as possible.)    She handled it with grace and class.  She stood up for herself in a Christlike manner until it ended.   I know I should have been proud, but when I found out that her day had once again been awful, and I broke down.  Right there in the hall in front of MY students…. I cried. 

                One thing I do love about 6^th grade is the attachment that the students have with their teacher!  God help the poor fool who makes me cry in front of my students.   They will protect me at all costs, and I almost had a riot on my hands.   I saved the names of the offenders, but my students…..they were ready to kill.

               I knew I had to do something…. legal.  I went to my principal and fell completely apart right in his office.   I told the whole story.  He is a father, he knows the pain of watching someone mistreat your child.  He promised me it would be corrected.  It would be utterly and completely stopped within the day. 

 I talked with Lindsey that night and told her that it was over. She seemed relieved.  She was my child and I would move heaven and earth to make sure that no one would mess with her.

               My principal was true to his word,  and  it was over.  He even talked with Lindsey about how to handle it, and promised her that he would protect her at all costs. 

                It got me thinking about a parent’s love for their child.  I have always reacted, done my best to stop bullying and mistreatment, but something fierce came out of me when it was my child. 

This One’s Mine ! 

                There are days when I have been a victim of my own uncertainty.  When the world whispers you are not valuable.  You are no good.  We don’t like you, or what you stand for.  What do you do? Are you going to fight or stand there.

               We get ambushed.

  That is how I have been feeling lately.  Hit from every side, and dealing with it on my own.  I have tried to fix it, to resolve it in my own power. 

and I am failing.

God showed me that HIS love for me is even more than my love for Lindsey.  That HE is also listening and watching, waiting on me to give up and let HIM do what only HE can.

      Isaiah 43:1-4

Don't be afraid, I've redeemed you. I've called your name. You're mine.
When you're in over your head, I'll be there with you. When you're in rough waters, you will not go down. When you're between a rock and a hard place, it won't be a dead end—
Because I am God, your personal God, The Holy of Israel, your Savior. I paid a huge price for you:
all of Egypt, with rich Cush and Seba thrown in! That's how much you mean to me!
That's how much I love you! I'd sell off the whole world to get you back, trade the creation just for you.

               I am so glad I serve a God who loves me, who will protect me, and fight for me.  Whose words about me are the same as my words about my daughter.

Leave her alone….. This One’s Mine!

God gave me YOU

 God gave me you…

               At 8:30 last night I was still in my classroom.  My family and friends had gone to eat, and I was still at school….. working.   It was then that I simply put my head down,

 and cried. 

               Now for those of you who are not teachers, this would seem abnormal. To place so much of yourself into your profession that it gets personal, But for those of you who are in the never- ending job of education, I am sure you have been there at least once this year already.  Overwhelmed, exhausted, frustrated, just staring, kind of frozen.

So much to do,     no time to do it.  Trying to decide who gets the shaft today… my family or my students.

 Guilt wins either way,

 Me, I get nothin!

               I chose to work at school.  I have some deadlines to meet.   Things that just fell off my radar. They can’t change.  These were my non-negotiable last night.  I had Gary come get my girls and I decided that I would stay until I was finished…..whenever that might be.

               but,   I was completely worn out….

               Yesterday was our first class field trip this year.  I am going to be completely honest here and tell you - I HATE field trips.  If it were up to me I would NEVER leave school with someone else’s child into a situation that I cannot control. I am a nervous wreck the whole time.  But nevertheless…. we went.

               I should have known the day was going to be a “Millraney Moment” day when one of my babies got mad at me because I corrected his behavior and proceeded to pick his nose to cause a nosebleed.  Yes, they do it on purpose. (in the 6^th  grade mind you can’t punish a bleeding kid. My response, in my 37 year old, been- doing- this -longer than you have been alive mind—watch ME!)

               Then, had to deal with a few other bus issues that would need attention later that day.  All the while the kid is still bleeding!   After a crazy scenario and me finally just taking him off of the bus ( left my kids with my intern), we went into the play.

               Kids never recover well from trips.   They tend to stay jacked up the rest of the day.  We had a lot to do and I couldn’t get anyone on “TEAM RANEY”.  We muttled through the rest of the day covering whatever I could, with the time I had left.

               So, there I sat at  8:30 pm, crying over all that didn’t get done.  Convinced I was a failure, and couldn’t do it.  I had my pity party and drove myself home.

               I got up this morning and tried to muster up enough enthusiasm to fake it through the day and went to school.  The morning started just like all the others….

 Except, this time there was a note.

               One of my bus incidents had come clean with their parents and was told to write me a letter of apology.  While not necessary, I thought it was a nice sentiment.  I took the note over to my desk and read it. 

                God never ceases to amaze Me.  In the middle of my fit last night, HE heard my heart.

               I can’t tell you what that note did to me.   I contacted the parent to ask if they had read it or told the child what to say.  The parent said, “No, that it was strictly from the child.”  The child was truly repentant for their mistake and wanted to make it right.   I kept reading, halfway expecting more of the same, “I am sorry, I won’t do it again.”               but, it was different.

They ended their note with the words to the song “God gave me You. “

“ God gave me you for the ups and downs….”

this child knew, I knew the rest of the song… and the more I thought about it , the more I cried.

                                             “On my own I am only, half of what I could be, I can’t do without you!”

God gave me you for the days of doubt,

Just when I think I’ve lost my way, there are no words left to say, its’ true,

 God gave me you.”

               That sweet child who was trying to make amends had no idea what that did for me. They had the words all right, but the direction was all wrong. After I read the note, I stood at my desk and thanked God I was a teacher.

                 I looked across my classroom,  I quietly said through my tears “ No, Sweetheart, you have it all wrong. (while you may never know it) In the middle of a very dark place….after a very bad day….

God gave me YOU!”

Oprah, Daddy and 1989

I have been cleaning like a mad woman for days. The condition of our home   (and car, and garage and etc.) is the result of too much fun over the holidays. Honestly, it seems like our family has been on fast forward since around Halloween.

We came home from our trip to Tennessee, and I haven't stopped. Truth is, I think I am afraid to stop. School is starting back , I am just not finished yet. I know it is crazy, but I don't like things still on my list.

 

The list. Last night my sister asked me what I had to do. I sent her a photo of my list ( 2 columns long) for yesterday that at 1:00am only had three things marked off. She laughed and said.. “Just throw that thing away and start over!”

So much to do, with so little time to do it. We run on empty, doing far too much, constantly frustrated with what didn't get done.

Right before Christmas, (the most wonderful time of year) I had the same conversation with three different people..... all on the same day.

“I am just not doing anything well.” “I don't like me.” “I don't like who I am, or what I am becoming.” “My kids are getting on my last nerve. I don't even like them some days”. “I have to get it together.” “I just can't keep on going like this.”

It was like they kept saying everything I was thinking and feeling....but, scared to say out loud.

I have run from it, tried to ignore it, and downright denied it, but it is still there. And it keeps showing up.

Letting the urgent overshadow the important.

God has been trying to communicate this to me on so many levels lately. I am never very good with subtle hints. He keeps driving home the same message, hoping if He hits me from every possible front.... I 'll get it.

I was watching an episode of Oprah, and the expert asked that question that stopped me cold. She was talking about making your child feel special, loved and appreciated. She asked, “Does your face light up when they walk in the room?”

---- Ouch.

I just yelled at my kids for messing up my shelving masterpiece designed for organization, and told them I was too busy to play.

So much for lighting up, I think I actually growled.

This just echoed the same idea that I heard just the other day by a child expert that was counseling a mother....

“You walk in after working all day, and you have all of this that you need to accomplish

... and they just want you.”

again..... Ouch.

I know the truth, I just can't find the balance. Clothes must be washed, chores done. Dog fed, lessons prepared, papers graded, all the while childhood ( life) is happening.

I caught a glimpse of this over the holidays. My daddy stopped me and made me look at Lindsey. Physically held my arm and said “Just look at her. She is growing up so fast. Do you see it, or are you missing it?”

She was sitting there with her new toy texting away, and singing with her favorite music. I saw what he was talking about. Her childhood was fading right in front of me. Trading Barbies for Justin Bieber. She is changing into a young woman.... one I am not ready to meet.

The urgent over important..... the idea, it keeps at me. Even when I was cleaning up the kitchen, and I found a newspaper article that has been on the refrigerator since 1989.

Weird how you see things everyday, and then one day SEE it.

It is a copy of Dear Abby's New Year Resolutions. My mom gave it to me when we moved away to Seminary. I was crying, whining, and having an outright fit. She handed it to me off of her refrigerator where it had been for years and said. “Read this.”

I never dreamed, that words from 1989 would challenge me in 2012

I won't recount it all, but it says something like this.......

“Just for today I will live this day only, ...Just for today, I will be happy.... Abraham Lincoln said “Most folks are just about as happy as they make up there minds to be”.......Just for today I will face reality.....I will change what I can and accept the rest......

                   I figured out that all of this wisdom came down to one idea, one simple word..... Enjoy.

 I read the definition of this little word, and I noticed something, It is a verb, which means, it is a choice.

A conscious decision to be present, be attentive, to choose my attitude,  to be aware.

       Enjoying my moments. My God. Enjoying my family, my girls, my job. Even enjoying the chaos we sometimes call life.

 That is my New Year's Resolution to me.

Happy 2012...Enjoy!

Tiny Tim ( Alabama Ethics Law)

       You walk in on the first day of school, and there they are. All alone in the corner, a little more than afraid. No one came to help fill out the paper work. No hugs and kisses at the door. No lunch box with notes from mom attached to little, shiny, Hershey Kisses. They have no idea what is on your supply list, or why you would even give them one. Parents?   For one reason or another, they are nowhere in sight.

      In that moment you smile, and say to yourself, “There you are, I have been waiting for you to get here.”

This year's Tiny Tim.

     Every classroom in America has one. That kid whose clothes aren't “just right.” Who could maybe use a bath. The one that the teacher has personally spent a fortune on buying supplies, or the occasional lunch.

Tiny Tim.

     The one who, when they are absent, your heart sinks. You are literally sick all day wondering and praying for that child. You know if they are with you then they are at least safe, and warm, and loved. You conjure up excuses to make a phone call just to check .

 You must know if your Tiny Tim is OK.

     Mixed emotions have been swirling around my head for the past few days. Not sure whether to laugh or cry over the newly issued mandate from the Alabama code of Ethics stating that teachers in Alabama cannot receive gifts (with monetary value) from students. On one hand you have to cry at the audacity of lawmakers who could fathom that a teacher works for gifts. On the other hand, laugh, because they have made laws that will articulate what you have told the kids for years.

“Don't buy me anything. You are my gift. I get you every day!”

     I think the most disturbing part in it all is the idea that the people who are in charge... just don't get it.

“The sponsor of the law, Republican Sen. Bryan Taylor, said it protects teachers against accusations of favoritism to students who give them big gifts and avoids embarrassment for low-income students. "In every classroom, there is a Tiny Tim who can't afford a turkey or ham," Taylor said.”

     Implementing laws to protect ...Tiny Tim? To stand and say that a teacher's favor can be won? That a Starbucks gift card can change my heart?      Really?

They have missed the obvious in my opinion...

... Tiny Tim,    you already have my heart.

The other kids may have money, families, and resources. They have help with homework, and hugs.   All my kids get my best, but you...

I find some way to give you just a little more.

I know the argument is over gifts. How much is ever enough? To say that the work a teacher does can be quantified and compensated... with stuff, to me  is....... obsurd.

 

 It is not about the presents, for me, it is about the Presence. 

     The voice saying, “Be my hands and feet. Love this child the way I love you. Show this child that you give YOUR best and it is for MY GLORY.”

      That gift is the one I work for. The only one I want. The present that can never be bought, but it is worth more than everything else.... My Savior's approval.


God bless us everyone.....

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Currier and Ives

1990 showed up again this week. Let me see if I can explain....

I always wanted a “pretty” Christmas tree growing up. One that matched. One that had ribbons and bows. I remember going out to Opryland and secretly coveting those trees. I know it is silly, but I longed for a tree like that as a child.

You see, Our tree was ugly. Nothing matched, just a hodgepodge of stuff that we made or collected. I even made fun of our tree on more than one occasion to my mother. She would just shake her head at me and protest. Our tree was beautiful to her.

When Gary and I married I decided that I would have the perfect tree in MY home, the perfect holiday, the perfect everything....and so the madness began.

I had to have everything just so.... the tree, the lights, the “ Southern Living” Magazine version of what I thought it should be. I would spend hours working on making it “ just right”. One year I even hand tied elaborate bows on each and every gift, just to take them off and transport them to TN. I wanted them pretty under the tree before we left.

We started a tradition years ago cutting down our tree. We all trample off through the woods in search of our “ Hallelujah” moment. Finding the perfect tree has nearly caused death or divorce on few occasions.

The photo session alone is enough to make my kids cry.

On our way home last weekend we stopped to get our tree. For some unknown reason I was just in a different mood. No matching outifts. No hoopla. One family photo. And the girls even helped pick out the tree. Not at all a normal outing, but I was beginning to sense that this year I was going to be different.

A few days passed and the girls wanted to put up our tree. I said, “No.” It takes three days to put up MY tree. I have to wrap every strand with lights . That alone takes one whole night. I told them when I was ready I would let them add a few ornaments, but

......I put up the tree.

Then Thursday night came around . They caught me at a weak moment, and I conceded to letting them do the tree themselves. Gary looked at me like I had lost my mind. I figured with Lindz being 10 that this could be her last year for fantasy and I couldn't take any part of it away.

I just secretly vowed to re do it when they went to bed.

Watching them decorate and hang the ornaments with pride was truly a “Mom Moment.” We talked about the origin of the figures. How they all represent some part of our life. It was a family history lesson that they actually wanted to take part in. I was able to share with them “Our Story” and how God has seen us through so much.

It was my Christmas gift.

As I sat there that night and looked at our finished tree, it hit me. That tree is not perfect, there are things I would change, parts I would do differently. Trinkets I would move that might fit somewhere better. It is similar to our story. The Millraney saga. The tree is not perfect, but neither are we. That hodgepodge of decorations represents the hodgepodge of members and memories  God has put on this journey.

As much as I want perfection, it just not us.

The Millraneys have never really been Currier and Ives.

Isn't that what Christmas represents? A need to perfect the imperfect. 

Could it be that it is  our responsibility to take what we have, and what we have made, to create a masterpiece of our own. Imperfections and all laid at the Savior's feet as a gift to HIM because of HIS gift for us.

Normal, everyday people who get an indescribable present even though they don't measure up.

I looked at “Our tree” and remembered my poem from 1990 “ the Ugly Tree”. I gave it to my mom the Christmas I began to understand the meaning.

  I found it, and looked at it again. I sat there reading it and realized something: my 16 year old heart had found truths that this 37 year old one had lost.

The Ugly Tree 1990

It's Christmas time and once again,

We are surrounded by family and friends.

Each one commenting on our

Ugly tree.

Ornaments created by tender hands

that no one else could see.

The lights are twinkling like all the rest

but the decorations are what make it best.

Upon this ugly Christmas tree

is a collection of a family.

The joys and triumphs, sorrow and tears

passed down to us through all the years.

The tree is decorated with memories,

on every branch, a story to see.

So, if at our house you may be..

Feel welcome to view our ugly tree.

For our tree is not decorated with silver or gold,

but with wonderful art work of stories untold.