My Oscar Pick: Tree of Life

Congratulations to all the Oscar winners from last night! Big night for The Artist. Personally, I was hoping Tree of Life would win something.

**This is an excerpt from something I wrote the night I saw the movie Tree of Life.**

All my friends told me I had to see it. What a great movie it was. Have they forgotten? I had to live this, I had to feel this. Why do I need to watch it all over again?

It was when the mother whispered, “God. Why?”

Everything in the movie was us, was death, was the way reality changed when Will died. From the depths of the ocean to the expanse of the sky, all of that incredible creation collapses when someone you love so much dies. Every wave of the ocean is a wave of grief in your soul; every burning fire on the sun is the anger in your heart. All the music, the piano, the organ. All my life – watching my mother play organ, hands and feet moving to create such a beautiful sound, my father’s tenor voice flowing all over the house. The water – oh! The water. The beaches of our lives – the salty air, even the monsoon rains that flooded our street, the island he was on when he died. Every poem I’ve written about him has water in it somehow.

Even the camera shots – unusual, sideways, angled – showed you how it is when someone dies. Everything is out of place, jumbled, uncomfortable, backwards. No truth is upright anymore.

It was when the older brother said, “Where were you? You let a boy die.” And it was me. I was the older sibling, always expected to do right, to be the example. Loving my mother, struggling with my father. I was walking through that desert, searching for him, for the perfection of my family I had lost.

I can forgive Will. I can forgive him for not wearing a helmet, even for getting on a bike when he knew Mom and Dad didn’t want him to.

But I can’t forgive God. Eleven years, and I still can’t forgive God. You let a boy die. Our boy. My father’s boy. My mother’s little boy. Where were you?

I can’t forgive God for not answering my mother’s prayer that day. Keep my son safe. 

Now I light a candle every year, I call my parents on the phone, I wonder how we got through another year. I am the oldest child left with all of it, which means with nothing.

I believed in Him. We all did, my parents gave their lives to Him, and still today, I faithfully take my children every week, I teach them to pray. How do I keep doing this? When I can’t trust anymore? When I can’t feel anymore? All the beauty – the light filtering through trees, wind washing gently over the water, amazing creatures – where is the love I see in these things?

Where were You?

How could the mother say, “God, I give you my son.”

What mother can say that, can do that?

Thoughts are pricking: what about my son? My daughter?

Love them. Wonder. 

Has the earth, then no room for them? 

Whom does the wind seek? For whom

is the wet glistening of streams? 

Is there by the banks 

of the pond’s deep dreaming

nowhere they can see their faces reflected?

 

The need only, as a tree does,

a little space in which to grow. 

- Rilke’s Book of Hours, The Book of Poverty and Death, III,29

Preparing to Prepare

Ash Wednesday has come and gone, but Eastern Orthodox Lent doesn’t begin until Monday.  Well, technically this evening. Orthodox Christians don’t begin the Lenten season in a penitent, ashes-on-your-forehead manner. The first day of Lent is called Clean Monday, and in fact that first week is called Clean Week. We open ourselves to the brightness of a blank slate, the opportunity to make things new, the chance to cleanse ourselves of impurities.

Orthodoxy is a faith of preparation. Before every liturgy we fast in order to prepare both our bodies and spirits for the elements of the Eucharist – not just the elements, but the mystical spiritual change that occurs in us as we partake of the Body and Blood of Christ.

While the lay people are fasting, the priest is preparing the Eucharist in a detailed service of preparation. As he makes each cut in the seal on the bread, he recites a line from Isaiah.

                   He was led as a sheep to the slaughter.

                   And as a spotless lamb is dumb before his shearer, so opened he not his mouth.

                   In his humiliation his judgment was taken away.

                   And for his generation, who shall declare it?

He cuts out nine tiny triangles, each time praying for a different category of people – Mary, angels, the Apostles, saints, the living, the dead, and so on.

Lent, of course, is the most intense period of preparation of the church year. We take a forty-day journey re-experiencing the life of Jesus. This pilgrimage is as physical as it is spiritual; we fast meat and dairy, we stand through countless extra services and liturgies, we attend confession. For Orthodox Christians, the mystical often reveals itself in the midst of physical acts.

Lent is here, but we’ve already been preparing for preparation, so to speak. In the five Sundays before Lent, we recall key beliefs, characters, and stories that turn our hearts inwards in self-reflection.

First, we talk about Zacchaeus. Remember, the short tax collector who climbed a tree to see Jesus? The children’s song “Zacchaeus was a wee little man . . .” comes to mind. When Orthodox Christians talk about Zacchaeus, they talk about desire. Not the lusty, sexual, overpowering desire that our culture connects with that word, but a yearning deep in the soul for something more. A desire to see Christ that is strong enough to make a man do something crazy. I think I lack this kind of desire for Jesus. I don’t desire Him enough to climb a tree or spend an hour on my knees in prayer or give money to the homeless guy on the corner. This is why I need Lent.

The next Sunday we hear the story of the Publican and the Pharisee. A reminder to pray. Not just to pray, but to pray humbly, quietly, and privately. In my selfishness I tend to want recognition for everything I do. I don’t want to do anything quietly! Again, this is why I need Lent.

After that we remember the Prodigal Son. Every year, I need to hear it again. Every year, I need to know that no matter how much I’ve failed, my Father welcomes me home with open arms.

Two Sundays before Lent is Meat-Fare Sunday, or the last day we can eat meat before Lent. It is also when we contemplate Judgment Day. This is the most confrontational pre-Lent Sunday for me. I have to say goodbye to meat and think about the possibility of not going to heaven all in the same day. Suddenly God is in my face making sure I get serious. As much as I hate it, I need Him to do it.

The day before Clean Monday, when Lent officially begins, is Forgiveness Sunday. It is also Cheese-Fare Sunday  – the last day we can eat dairy products. Giving up cheese falls by the wayside in the glow of Forgiveness Vespers. All the parishioners form a wide circle spreading its way around the edges of the church. Each person faces every other person in the room and asks for forgiveness. The words “I forgive” are whispered hundreds of times. By the time everyone’s gone around, the room is shrouded in a hushed mystery, a warm blessing uniting all of us.

We have confessed, we have repented, we have forgiven. We are spiritually and physically clean. Finally, we are ready for Lent.

The Mandatory Valentine’s Day Post

Valentine’s Day is upon us again. Steven and I have had a variety of Valentine’s Day experiences, beginning with surprise Jim Brickman tickets and me “taking off” a day of student teaching to go buy a dress for the occasion. After that, there was a mixture of romantic gestures, complete failures, and we’re-too-broke-to-go-out-so-we’ll-cook-a-fancy-dinner-and-pretend-it’s-nice dates. There was actually one Valentine’s Day that Steven made the mistake of telling me, “It’s just another day.” (Note the “complete failure” reference above.) But there were other times he got me roses or sent me a Vermont teddy bear.

Lately (i.e., since having kids), Valentine’s Day has been low-key. We get each other cards; we go out to dinner. That’s about it. I’ve come to place that I agree with my husband: it really is just another day. Another day of loving each other. Another day of being committed to this marriage. Another day of re-making our promises to each other. Another day of uniting (and occasionally fighting) over how to raise the kids.

Sometimes marriage gets contrasted with the monkhood in the Orthodox Church. On the surface, entering the monkhood seems much harder than entering a marriage. You give up the chance of love for a life a celibacy. You give up a life of entertainment for prayer and service. But you get quiet. (Whew! That’s something I miss.) You get to go to liturgy without having to take a kid out for being too loud or to go to the bathroom. You get steady work, a routine that doesn’t get altered by sick children and leaking toilets and first grade homework and a sticky kitchen floor.

Marriage has it’s own character-building qualities, though. It’s extremely hard to put someone else first and love them unconditionally. It’s easy to defend and offend, but hard to listen and empathize. It’s a challenge to try to make decisions when you are two people with different ideas and backgrounds and opinions. Marriage can sometimes seem like a piece of sandpaper: it can chafe, but it makes me a better person.

Most of the time, though, my marriage and family are sources of joy. My Valentine’s Day desire is to love in the little ways. To love in the dusting and the picking up and the laundry. To love in the cooking and the dishwashing and the silly games we play in the car. To love in the chore I do when it’s not my turn, in the play doh creation I make when I don’t really feel like it, in the silent prayers that some days are more accidental than intentional.

To you and yours, Happy Valentine’s Day.

Versatile Blogger

My poet friend Bri nominated me for a Versatile Blogger Award! Bri and I got our MFAs together. We were the only girls with several other guy poets. I was so glad Bri was there to show me the ropes during my first residency, and I’m glad we became friends.

When you are nominated for this award, you thank the person who nominated you, write 7 things about yourself, and nominate 10 more bloggers.

So . . . Thank you, Bri!! Check out her fabulous blog here.

10 Random Things About Me:

1. By day I am an English Learners Consultant for a public school district. (I was a teacher for 11 years before that.) By night I am a mom, wife, and writer/poet. (Yeah, I’m those things all the time, yada yada yada.) I love all those  jobs. But I do get stressed sometimes.

2. I am notorious for falling asleep. As in, I fight sleep while I’m driving home after work. Every day. And it’s only 4:00. And I fall asleep on the couch before 8 fairly often. I actually think I may have slight narcolepsy.

3. I love to read, and my favorite genre is YA fiction, especially fantasy fiction. I can’t wait for The Hunger Games movie to come out!

4. I love libraries. I was super excited to visit  Library of Congress for the first time last summer!  I still have to say that the Downtown Nashville Public Library is my favorite library – and favorite place in Nashville.

5. I was raised as a missionary’s kid in Thailand.

6. I am passionate about immigrants and English learners. I really don’t care if they are legal or illegal. They want a good life for their children just like I do.

7. I have a pretty cool husband and 2 beautiful, creative, and sometimes obnoxious children. A boy and a girl. I would like to adopt a child from Thailand.

Now for my nominees:

1. Anam Cara

2. Psychodynamom

3. Rae Gun Ramblings

4. Pamela’s Musings

5. Mommy Rotten

6. Harriet

7. Book Club Babe

8. David J. Dunn

9. Educating Alice

10. Pesky Pippi

Poetry Friday

I’m hosting Poetry Friday today! Please post your URLs in the comments, and I will update throughout the day. (Edit: For those of you who had trouble posting today, I profusely apologize. I forgot to turn off my “author needs to give approval to new commenters” box!! I’ve corrected problem now. So sorry!)

One of my favorite poets who writes about historical figures is Linda Bierds. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting her, and hearing her read, and sitting in on her lecture, twice! She talked about this poem in a lecture on integrating the narrative in the lyrical poem. I like this poem because its subject is Gregor Mendel, who I like because he was a monk AND a scientist! The italics are by the poet.

Matins: Gregor Mendel and the Bees

by Linda Bierds

Slowed by smoke, they slump

from the hive,

benign from the hive they slump,

Father of thorax and wing,

Father of light, they light

on my arm, make light

of my arm, tapering, golden,

Father of darkness receding, 

they make from my arm

a candle, a flame, they candle

my arm with backcast

light, affixing the self

to the shell.

Myra at Gathering Books has a Shel Silverstein poem.

Laura from laurasalas has a Steven Withrow poem about spelling and an original 15 Words or Less poem.

Linda from Teacher Dance has three William Stafford poems that relate to teaching.

Charles from Bald Ego has an original poem titled “A Poet Isn’t Somebody.”

Amy from The Poem Farm is talking about language today – including an original poem.

Diane at  has an original poem about a bookcase at Random Noodling and an original poem about Hebrew School at Kids of the Homefront Army.

Kurious Kitty (also Diane) has a poem by Langston Hughes and a quote at her Kurious K Kwotes page.

The Write Sisters have a poem about manners.

Greg at GottaBook has an original poem about books.

Ruth has some poems about flowers.

Tabatha at the Opposite of Indifference has some great ideas for a March Madness Poetry Tournament!

Liz at Growing Wild has an original poem titled “My Bed.”

Laura from Author Amok has a thoughtful elegy.

Mary Lee at A Year of Reading reviews Laura Purdie Salas’ new book of poetry. (Laura has a contribution above.)

Katya ponders Robert Frost and Jeeps.

Robyn has some great dragon poems.

Alice from Supratentorial has a W.S. Merwin poem.

Jama from Jama’s Alphabet Soup has a poem by Thich Nhat Hanh.

Heidi at my juicy little universe shares a poem about the lands we create a share.

Maria from A Poem a Day shares an Elizabeth Barrett Browning poem.

Polly from The Little Wooden Horse has a fun A.A. Milne poem

Charles at Rainforest Soul has an original poem titled “I Was A Sailor.”

Karen is talking about Groundhog’s Day.

Ed from Think Kid Think has a poem by Charles Bukowski.

Caryl from Leaning Tower of Books shares a poem from and reviews the book Thirteen Reasons Why.

Delzey from Fomagrams shares a Neil Diamond cento.

Elaine from Wild Rose Reader shares an original poem titled “Fossil Forest.”

Mandy from Write on the World shares an original poem titled, “Insomnia.”

Lorie shares an original haiku at On Point and shares Mini Masters at readertotz.

Tara from A Teaching Life shares poetry by Mark Doty plus some other cool stuff.

Renee from No Water River shares and original poem titled “Tiny Tina Tinseltooth.”

Jone from Check It Out features haikus written by fourth graders.

Liz from Liz in Ink shares a poem from Tony Hoagland.

Julie from The Drift Record is getting ready for February.

Donna from Mainely Write brings us an original Minute Poem.

Doraine from Dori Reads celebrates Black History Month.

Talk About Motivation!

I graduated with my MFA in Creative Writing a year and a half ago. Since then, my life has not changed much. I write a little more, but not enough. Professionally, I’m still working in education. I had a stint at adjunct teaching at a local community college, but it was ESL, not Composition or Creative Writing. For a while I really wanted to find a job teaching writing on the college level, but 1) I haven’t published enough to get a full-time position; 2) I just cannot handle a full-time job AND adjuncting AND a family; and 3) Honestly I probably make more teaching public school than I would teaching full-time at a community (or maybe even four-year) college.

As far as publishing,  I published more in 2009 and 2010 (i.e., while I was still in school) than I did in 2011. But I didn’t send out many submissions in 2011, either. What I did to in 2011 is blog more, join Twitter, and network with other writers more. I am hoping this will eventually benefit me when it comes to writing, but for now I am really excited to have a cyber community of writer-types!

So all this brings me to today, with my not-quite-finished poetry chapbook, a few fiction works-in-progress, and a amalgam of non-fiction pieces. I’m reading a spiritual memoir right now called Girl Meets God, and it’s really inspired me to write a spiritual memoir. I have a lot of stuff on my blog that I can use, plus I have 40 pages of a manuscript I submitted to a contest that I can use. Initially I was just going to write about my conversion to Orthodoxy, but now I am working on pieces about growing up as a missionary’s kid and the Protestant church (Church of the Nazarene) I was raised in also. I think I have some really good material that can eventually be an interesting spiritual memoir.

Most of my problem is finding time to write. I work full time, so I am gone from the house from 6:45 to 4:00ish each day. When I get home, I try to devote time to my kids, catch up on laundry, cook supper, etc. While I sometimes blog or surf the net during the kids’ one hour of TV every night, I rarely write until after they have gone to bed. However, there are many nights that I go to bed right after the kids go to bed. Meaning, in bed by 8:30, asleep by 9:00. Pitiful!! But I’ve been getting up at 4:30 to try to exercise, so I’m pretty beat by 9:00.

Whine, whine. I know.

But. I now have a little more motivation. My husband is writing a book proposal. He and his friend have a good – well, let’s just say it – great idea for a book about the Christian faith for teenagers. As in an idea that will probably fly, a book that will probably sell.

And if my husband publishes a book before I do, I’m going to be so pissed!!!! I’m the one with the MFA! I’m the one who’s been writing since age seven!!!

Sorry. Calming down now.

One word: Motivation.

What I Cannot Do

I cannot sew, draw, or paint.

I do not have cute labeled baskets for organizing all over my house.

I am not very crafty.

I can’t make and decorate fancy cakes.

I’m not the greatest cook. (Though I’m trying!)

I’m not the best housecleaner.

I am not the most creative mom in the world.

I have never tried to grow plants, although if I did I have a suspicion my thumb might be purple.

I’m not uber-organized or neat.

I’m not great at small talk.

I can’t control my patience when my son has “hi-ya!”ed me for the 15th time.

I never make my bed. (Except when guests are coming over.)

I don’t have an eye for decorating.

The list could go on. I am constantly trying to hold myself to high standards as a mother and wife. I don’t know why. I read organizing blogs and crafting blogs and hang out on etsy and think, “I really wish I could do that. I really wish I could be that mom.”

I am very slowly coming to terms with me. Accepting me. Realizing that even if I can’t and don’t do all that stuff, I’m still a good mom and wife most of the time. And that there are things I can do.

I can build a huge Lego tower.

I can change a Barbie’s clothes 10 times in 2 minutes.

I can make a Play Doh dinosaur.

I can dance to the Backyardigans and Selena Gomez.

I can kiss boo-boos.

I can love my children and spouse.

I can hug and kiss my loved ones.

I can pray.

I can teach my children to light candles at the altar, to eat with their mouth closed, to let others go first.

I can read to my kids.

I can show them how to make cookies, or cupcakes, or bread.

I can laugh even when the made-up joke doesn’t make sense.

As I work toward living my life with more intentionality, I listen to the writers and poets:

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do 
with your one wild and precious life?” 

- Mary Oliver

“There are days we live

as if death were nowhere

in the background; from joy

to joy to joy, from wing to wing,

from blossom to blossom to 

impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.”

- Li-Young Lee

A Muppet or a Man?

If you’ve seen the new Muppets movie, you’ll get the reference. Even if you don’t have kids, the movie’s worth seeing just to watch Jason Segal (aka Gary) and his muppet-esque brother Walter perform a heart-wrenching rendition of this song. (And to see Kermit – I love that little green guy.)

The Muppet or a Man song got me thinking about my husband Steven. Is he a muppet or a man?

I’ve got to admit that he certainly has muppetish moments. Like when I say, “The dogs need to be fed,” and two hours later he’s still lounging around on the couch. “Oh, you wanted ME to feed them?” he’ll ask innocently. Uh-huh. I did. Or when he loses his wedding ring for the SECOND time. Every 11 years. Really. He lost the first one about 6 months into our marriage, and he lost the second one this week, 11.5 years into our marriage. Or when he drips chocolate ice cream on the counter and “forgets” to wipe it up. Sounds a bit Fozzie-ish to me.

However, Steven definitely has a manly side. (You’ve heard me brag about his coaching skills already.) During Christmas break, he fixed a leaky toilet and a leaky faucet, painted several rooms in our house, put up new shower fixtures, and cleaned and organized the entire garage. The man is a better organizer than I am! He has that visual-spatial intelligence that I lack. He’s great at envisioning a room in it’s “finished” state. In addition, the guy helps me with the kids, does his own laundry, and loads the dishwasher. How could that not be sexy to the overworked mom/wife?

We’ve also had some great family evenings lately. We’ve played games together, built castles with Legos together, and played charades together. I’ve watched Steven get really involved with the kids and their interests. Helping Ephraim make edible “brains.” Teaching Madeleine a new iPod Touch game.

He even attended a poetry reading with me recently. Poetry. Yeah, I owe him one.

I think I’m gonna go with Man here.

Until the next time I get mad at him at least.

Me and My Muppet - I mean Man

A Semester in the Coaching Life

An instructional coach, that is. Specifically an English Learners coach. Over the past decade, the school district I work for has adopted a instructional coaching model as part of it’s professional development and push to raise test scores. I can’t speak for middle and high schools, but every elementary school has a Literacy Coach and many of them have Numeracy Coaches and Consulting Teachers. These are certified teachers with teaching experience who are now out of the classroom but supporting and coaching teachers. (Note: This is still a “teacher” position, not admin – we get paid teacher salary and work teacher schedule.)

Instructional coaches do a wide variety of tasks, including providing site-based professional development, individually working with teachers, making materials for teachers, modeling lessons, helping with assessment, and working with small groups of students. Instructional coaches are typically also on school leadership teams, where they look at student data and work on plans to help struggling students and raise test scores.

My job is slightly different as there are only five Elementary EL Coaches (technically we’re called Consultants, but you get the idea) in the district, so each of us have roughly 12 schools. I have 13 schools, although 4 of them don’t have English Learners, so I work with 9 schools regularly. It’s my job to help teachers who work with EL students (whether or not they’re certified EL teachers – although typically those are the ones I mostly work with). So I thought I’d update you about what I’ve been doing the past semester.

I’ve worked a lot with individual teachers, which I love. Some of it is just meeting and talking about ideas, or answering questions. Sometimes I teach a lesson to a teacher’s students. Sometimes I make materials or centers for teachers to use. Whatever it is, it’s been great to develop relationships with these teachers, and sometimes with their students.

I’ve also done some trainings and PD sessions, which I also enjoy. I am very comfortable in front of people, although I still get the tiniest bit nervous before every training. I am learning a lot about working with adults and how different that is from working with kids. Training adults in a way that is going to be meaningful to them is an art form, and I certainly have not mastered it, but I am getting better.

I have sat in TONS of meetings. I never thought I would have to attend so many things in this job! Some of the meetings are school-based like Leadership Team meetings or Student Support Team meetings. Others are trainings that I am required to go to. The whole-day trainings can be mentally draining, but in terms of content, everything I’ve attended so far has been really great information and ideas.

Another portion of my job is checking on compliance issues like making sure all EL students are getting their hours with an EL certified teacher, and that recently exited students’ grades are getting monitored. I also have the task of informing my teachers of relevant EL information.

I still come home exhausted at the end of every day, but overall I am both challenged and fulfilled by this position. I am learning so many new things and sometimes I long for a class of students to try out those ideas on, but then I’m so glad to not have to grade papers! I have made some mistakes and screwed up a few times, but I try to dust myself off and keep on trucking. I am so thankful to 1) have a job and 2) have a job that I like.

 

P.S. You can read more posts about coaching here and here.

Poetry Friday: Water

Today the Orthodox church celebrates the Feast of Theophany, also known as Epiphany. It’s a day to remember the baptism of Christ. I entered the church last night and was greeted by literally dozens of lit candles in the dim temple, many of which were floating in large vases of water. Today the priest will bless the waters of a river, and a bunch of men will dive into the cold waters searching for a cross.

(Thanks to Anna at St. Theophan Academy for the photos.)

Water is such a beautiful yet terrible essence: it’s cleansing, refreshing, satisfying, but also powerful and dangerous. I love Kentucky poet Wendell Berry‘s approach to living in close relationship with nature, and in this poem it’s his life that’s chaotic and dangerous, and water that’s calm and cleansing. Enjoy.

The Peace of Wild Things
by Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Today’s Poetry Friday Roundup can be found at Teaching Authors.