Trade for Balls

An issue I struggle with at work has to do with forms. I encourage, ask, beg, people to utilize the order forms I've created, but they seem to disregard my requests.

Today I received one such reservation that had, hand-written across the bottom, the words "Trade for Balls." It did not include a ticket face order form that would tell me what what tag lines to use, what dates to print, etc. Without a ticket face order form, I might generally print whatever information I find on the reservation. Still, does this person really want me to print, and mail out, 100 tickets that say "trade for balls?" ("Valid any one operating day 2014?").

This verbage jumps out at me thaks to an incident at school yesterday. While lecturing on "direct object pronouns" to my high school class, I casually picked up one student's spiral-bound notebook to use in my illustration. I emphatically proclamed, "give me the book, give it to ME." I pretended to hand the notebook over to another student in the front of the room, repeating, "give Alex the book, give IT to HER."

I noticed that the young man I'd "borrowed" the book from seemed to be shrinking in his chair. His face was red. Now waking up to the fact that something was going on, I saw that several students were giggling.

Turning the notebook over I read, written in extra-large teenage "grafitti" letters, the words "I Love Balls." I'd been lecturing in front of 25 students, waving a notebook written with the words, "I Love Balls."

Fantastic.

It's a good thing I'm the mother of 4 boys because I could almost contain my embarassment and my own laughter.

I returned the notebook to the student(at least I had his attention, this student-athlete who seems, most of the time, to be half asleep.)

So now I'm using my teacher skills at work, in hopes of some cooperation. I've returned the "no order form" reservation to the fellow employee who placed the order, eager to see corrections on Monday morning.

The Cubs - Lost Inside The Polar Vortex

On Monday I used one of only five yearly vacation days.

School closing texts and calls began to pour in around 5:30 a.m. I watch the news' closings list for four separate school districts: the two that our children attend and the two where I teach. Sometimes I watch to see if the school district near my job closes. This may or may not mean that work has decided to tell employees to stay home for safety reasons.

Not so on Monday, even though it was one of several days this week with wind chills in the range of -20 to -50 degrees! For this reason I had to use my own "time."

The two oldest boys and I shoveled the driveway by hand as it had filled in with blowing snow. It took until 9 a.m. We carried water back to the animals and then I forced myself to sit down and study Accounting.

A still, small voice whispered that I should spend this "quality time" with the children. We did enjoy playing games and baking.

The rest of the week, however, has been difficult. It was important that the high schoolers made it to town to take their Regents, despite closings. Instead of using up all of my vacation time, I battled treacherous driving conditions and the deep freeze to get to and from work. Mr. WestBerryDad did the same. His presence at work, much more than mine, is critical to projects there.

Some schools opened while others closed. Rehearsals were canceled and rescheduled. Busses arrived and didn't.

Dentist appointments, National Lutheran School Week, choir rehearsals, play dates...all of the elements of our busy lives were potentially postponed or re-routed this week.

I worried. I worried about teens driving to youth group, driving to their friend's houses, driving to fetch me from work. I worried about matching gloves and ripped out, worn out boots. Were the boys' noses, fingers and toes protected from the elements? Was the sheep dog, living in the barn, OK? Would everyone remember to bring the old dog and the cat inside?

Still, we haven't suffered the way Atlanta did, with people sleeping in mall stores and vehicles abandoned alongside the highways. We don't have to buy propane to heat our home, the price of which continues to climb steadily based on a shortened supply.

Today I'm driving a stranger's Chevy SUV. She owns horses and I am overwhelmed by the smell of pine shavings that are spilled in the back section. My own vehicle sits at a recording studio several hours down The Thruway.

We're supposed to see a short break from the deep freeze. A much needed break.

A University of Substance

This past weekend J, almost age 18, attended a football recruiting weekend at a "prestigious" (read: expensive) university.

It's a college that seems to be very good at "talking the talk" but not "walking the walk." Even the football weekend came up short with regards to planning and the delivery of a quality experience.


A mother notices these things.

1. The recruits were placed with current football players for the night. There were no formal activities planned during the evening hours so the guys were free to go find something to do on campus. Our son's group "found" that sitting around in dorms, by groups of ten or so, was all there was to do. Most of the buildings on campus were closed/locked. What about a visiting speaker? A concert? A movie, perhaps?

Since there were no sleeping arrangents made for him, my son was given a dorm lobby couch to sleep on. For better or worse, he helped "steal" this couch from a lounge (it had been bolted down), and haul it to a locked room.

2. The student newspaper featured a weekly sex column. This week's advice to students was "how to have a threesome - two guys with one girl." Nice.

The writing in the newpaper wasn't worth the cost of the paper it was printed on. The stories throughout were shallow and uninteresting, eg."Student Gives Up Sex With His Iphone." This article appeared next to another, lamenting the $60,000 per year price tag to attend this university.

3. We were "treated" to a breakfast of powdered eggs, heated "frozen" french toast, and some juices in plastic bottles. Even for a banquet room full of football players, no fresh milk was offered. The large hall, inside the university's "exclusive club" had no artwork on the walls. It was dull and dirty.

4. When I observe students walking around this campus they look scared. Lifeless. Unhealthy even. Their conversations "feature" topics like chicken wings, uhms, sleeping, uhms, and parties. They dress in sweatpants and boots, with hats pulled over dirty, uncombed hair.

I've seen a better place, a university of tradition and substance. The student newspaper there featured stories about world events, on-campus speakers, and awards won by faculty members. The halls (and the bathrooms) there were clean. Students appeared friendly and engaged.

I suppose it's easy to judge. Here's hoping our student does NOT choose the expensive "low calorie" education.

The College Search/Where Am I Looking?

This weekend our oldest son, a high school senior, will go for an overnight at a college that is recruiting him to play football. The same college is home to a prestigious music school and the type of physics research facility that interests him.

He doesn't want to play football. Still, we have asked him to please, please explore the option, in case there could be a financial benefit. We certainly can't afford the yearly tuition at this school and we don't want to see our son strapped with outrageous student loans.

The entire seach process feels stressful. There aren't enough hours in the day to properly research scholarships, fill out forms and applications, or visit schools across the state. Yet, I've come to realize, over the last few days, that I've been looking in the wrong direction for the answer to our "where will we find the resources?!" question.

I heard this on Ron Hutchcraft's daily radio message...

There are three ways you can look when you're facing an overwhelming situation. First, you can look out at the need. That's what the disciples did. It's a huge crowd; a huge need. Secondly, you can look down at your resources. In John 6 that's what the disciples did. Andrew said, "Here's a boy with five small (notice small) barley loaves and two small fish, but how far will they go among so many?" "Hey, our resources are no match for this need!" Maybe that's how you feel right now. You just don't have the money, the wisdom, the strength, the help, the answers. Well, in both cases you're going to be paralyzed or panicky.

There's a third way to look though, and that's what Jesus did. It says, "And looking up to heaven He gave thanks for the loaves." Jesus chose to look in the Lord's direction, not out at the need, not down at the resources, but where the resources are unlimited. The Bible says in Philippians 4:19 , "God will supply all your need according to His glorious riches in Christ Jesus." So Jesus thanked God for what He did have, though it was nowhere near enough. And not enough was miraculously multiplied into more than enough.

Do you know that's exactly what happens when somebody puts their life into Jesus' hands? Your life could be so much more than you ever imagined. Jesus said, "I've come that you may have life and have it to the full." And we do as much as we can do with our lives, until one day we say, "Jesus, You who died on the cross to pay for my sin, You who walked out of your grave under your own power, You who will be returning one day to wrap up human history, it's time I took this life that I have thwarted and put it in the hands of the one who was meant to be controlling it all."

The Second Amendment

One of my 2014 New Year's Resolutions is to obtain my pistol permit. The winds of change that blow away our Second Amendment rights are noticeably strong in our state. I would also like to, some day, inherit firearms that have been in the family for generations. It would be a shame to see them confiscated simply because I didn't have the forethought to acquire the needed permit.

Today I asked the Head of Security at work how to go about obtaining my permit. He was forthcoming with helpful information and he recommended a piece I might want to carry, a Glock 26 (with a pink grip). 

It looks like Friday might be a good day to head to the County Offices.

"There are only two paths: progress and excuses."

Miss Kay and Me

I enjoyed reading Korie and Willie Robertson's book, Duck Dynasty, over the December break. I was interested to learn more about the development of The Duck Commander brand and more about the members of The Robertson Family.

My own little boys had, for some time, compared themselves to Alan, Jase, Willie, and Jep, a natural comparison as our family make up is the same - mom, dad, and four boys. That made me, they said, "Miss Kay." 

I didn't see many similarities. For starters, she is a southerner who likes cats. I didn't think of her as a working mom (the TV show more often portrayed her as rather "helpless," needing her boys and husband to drive her places and help her shop and clean).

The book, however, described the real Miss Kay as an intelligent, hard-working individual. Like me, she allows her boys a wide breadth of freedom in order to encourage their individual development and expression. 

And, like me, she spends a lot of time thinking about food, planning meals, preparing them, and cleaning up. We both take a strong interest in making sure those around us are nourished and healthy. Many of our conversations center around ingredients, timing, and presentation.

Over the holidays, my home life revolved around food. It was a welcome break from grading and lesson planning. Instead, I planned and served holiday meals and did dishes, lots and lots and loads and loads of dishes. 

Come January, our family's focus turned to fitness and diets, and the level of sensitivity surrounding nutritional values, fat and calories, was raised to a whole new level.

Now, with our area in the grips of a wicked, record-setting blizzard, I'm baking, cooking, and dish-washing....more. 

Maybe today I'll try another of Miss Kay's recipes.