Thursday, December 14, 2017

She gather me, man.

“She is a friend of mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order. It’s good, you know, when you got a woman who is a friend of your mind.”

  • Toni Morrison, Beloved

For months and months I had no good answer when folks would ask why I had changed districts. It wasn’t the past admin. Not at all. It certainly wasn’t my coworkers. In fact, I worried that I might be losing some people that I had come to care for very, very much. In time, what I would come to realize is that my Amy, my Neesa, my Donna, and my Kathy, and all the many more would continue to be a part of my life. I had not left them.

I had simply been moved.

For a while, I was shallow enough to think I had been moved because my teaching talents were needed in this new place. I fell instantly in love with my new environment, with my students, my admin, my team. As always, I had a blast preparing for the new school year, drawing up lesson plans, decorating my room, meeting everyone and putting names to faces.

And then - during the second nine weeks I hit a wall and I had a total epiphany.

I wasn’t there for anyone else.

I was there because there were people there FOR ME. I would go through something deeply personal, deeply profound, something that rocked me like I had never been rocked before. It would have nothing to do with my marriage, with my teaching career, or with our kids or business. But it put me in a place of vulnerability that I had never felt before. Things from my past pelted me right and left. “Lost” moments that I had evidently blocked out suddenly became vivid memories. I was used to being able to “cover my emotions,” or hide my feelings, wearing a mask to cover any imperfections. This time I would not be able to do that.

I cracked and my new team drew me in. They quite literally encircled me, prayed for me, and allowed me to ugly cry in front of them. Betsy, Telly, and Haylie are my angels. They are three of the most encouraging, godly, FUNNY women I have ever known and I cannot imagine having the breakdown I did at work with anyone but them.

With their encouragement, and after hearing my story, I felt empowered to reach out to three more women. Women who should have been on my go-to list decades ago. This whole lesson has taught me that I am not invincible; I cannot do all things on my own. I don’t have to appear perfect. In fact, there’s a HUGE degree of relief in admitting, “Hey I do not have my shizzle together.  This happened to me and - quite frankly - it messed me up.” Never having had a sister myself, I turned to the next best thing, my sisters-in law - Kay, Melinda, and Robyn. Once again, that sisterhood of rallying - almost like circling the wagons to protect the settlers…

By the way, it’s now almost the end of the calendar year, and your husband is immensely grateful that you’ve finally turned to female confidantes. The business, by the way, has more than doubled during the course of the year. You’re not quite going to make your end of the year  deadline, but you’re going to be very close. Already you have four weddings on the 2018 B&B calendar, and the cabins have about an 85% consistent booking rate. Sharing this passion for this hospitality business has brought you even closer as a couple.

You wouldn’t have thought so a month ago, but you’re leaving 2017 healthier than you entered it. Spiritually, emotionally, with your marriage, your family, your job, and your business…

Girl, you are going to go into this 50th year of your life dancing because you know what is important in this life...

Wednesday, June 28, 2017

The Pioneer Woman - my Shero!


Ree Drummond may very well be my favorite #girlboss ever! I have to say, finally visiting Pawhuska after a decade of reading her blog and of watching her cooking show on Food Network these past several years, I was dubious as to whether or not all the hype would live up to my enormous expectations.


Well, um...it did.


Her show’s catch phrase is “Welcome to my frontier!”


We definitely felt the welcome!


Now, more than ever, I am in awe of what this seemingly simple Oklahoma-living, kid-raising, Marlboro Man- loving cook, wife, mom, and business owner has accomplished with such grace, poise, and low-key fanfare. You walk into The Mercantile (known fondly as “The Merc”) and instantly feel as though you’ve stepped into the home of a very close friend. From the gift wrap counter, to the colorfully displayed shelves of dishes, novelties, and linens, to the friendly sales clerks dressed in sharp, black-button down shirts with the now-famous strands of PW’s signature turquoise beads - it all bathes you in a warm, fuzzy feeling of belonging, of truly being a part of her frontier.


Mom and I both picked up this first issue of her new magazine. Y’all. You NEED to stop by your local Walmart and pick up your very own copy! It has been a very long time since I have read a magazine from cover to cover, but that is exactly what I did with this one. The articles are relevant, the editorials are heartfelt, and the pictures are just pure Americana. And in today’s climate - who doesn’t need a bit of THIS in their life?


Just this weekend my niece referred to me as a “fan girl,” and I guess - even though I am a full grown, soon-to-be 50 year old, I am indeed a fan girl. There is something to be respected about a person with a dream that is totally centered around her family, her principles, and her desire to leave a positive imprint on the world around her that completely inspires me.

Maybe - from one transplanted gal to another - there is something about her that further encourages me to press further on my passion here at the B&B. To take heart that great things take great time to create, to nourish, and then to flourish.

Friday, June 23, 2017

When C H A N G E is good, but not always fun.

Change is never easy for me. It never has been. That dreaded feeling that collects in the pit of your tummy, rolling and tumbling in such a way that you're not sure if you are excited or just plain terrified.

One thing I've learned, though, is to trust the little nudge in the depths of your soul; when it urges change, I know I'd be wise to listen and consider my next steps very carefully.

In a way, this is quite funny that I still go through this myriad of emotions, considering that the B&B is continually going through changes, especially with this huge expansion we're in the big middle of right now. I think it must be because Mike and I are so focused on the end goal that the changes we endure during the process feel more like "the next step" rather than true changes.

When I signed my contract with my last district, I thought it would be where I would spend the remainder of my teaching career. There were no doubts in my mind; instead, there was such a sweet serenity in knowing I'd be teaching in the very community where I live, that the commute was a mere 9 minutes - door to door, and that I had found my forever school home.

I seriously never thought that would change.

I am so in love with where we live - the actual land, but also the neighbors, the community, the familiarity that has become our home over the past six years. My students here are at the heart of what I have done for 10 months out of the year, for these years. The thing is, they will always be mine. If a student has sat in my class, it is my hope and prayer that they know that NOTHING will change my feelings for them. Not their graduation. Not them moving on to the next grade. Not them moving away.

Not me leaving this district for another.

I have moved to a new district. Coming to this decision had nothing to do with my current students, nothing to do with the community, and nothing to do with the fierce love I have for all I have experienced here. Instead, it has everything to do with that little nudge in my soul that prompted me to move to a new challenge, a new opportunity.

To many my decision probably makes no sense. I now have a bit of a commute. I know only a handful of people at the new district. I'm leaving my comfort zone for a place where I am sure it will take me a while to find my footing, my place. I'm also leaving students who mean the world to me. Students that I would cross the country for if they needed me to. I'm letting a huge piece of my heart stay with them, even as I move on to my next chapter in my teaching journey.

The decision making process itself was too personal to even try to put into words here, if I wanted to. The truth is, when I have these whispers in my soul - God whispers, I like to call them - it is personal and not something I'm inclined to share publicly. If you know me at all, you will know that this decision was made after lots of prayer, lots of thinking, and many, many talks with Mike.

It's been several weeks now, and the rumbling and tumbling in my tummy is still there, but now it is pure excitement. I look forward to the new students who will be in my life, the opportunities I will have to make an impact on them and their families, and especially the open door which was swung wide for me after my time in prayer. My heart is ready to encompass all the new even as it holds so close and so dear all of the old.

To all of my former students, you have my heart for always! I will still be front row and center for all of your accomplishments in life, I will still laugh at all of the fun we had, and still want to hug you tight when I know you need it most. Nothing will change that.

To all of my soon-to-be students, very soon this heart of mine will encompass you as well. Even though I don't know you yet, my heart is with you - planning, preparing - for that moment when we meet and begin our time together.

Once again, I am a transplanted gal. Trusting the process. Cherishing the past. Embracing the NOW. Anticipating the future.


Thursday, June 15, 2017

Don't miss the bliss.

“This place where you are right now, God circled on a map for you.”


Is this not the best thing ever?

That wherever I go I have the assurance that God has gone before me, paving the way for my time there. Way too often I get caught up in the busyness that is life - work,marriage, kids, mortgages, students, the B&B...The reality is that - if I chose to - I could stay busy every single second and miss the bliss that comes from being in this very moment.

I’m a planner by heart. If you don’t believe it, just take a look at my plannerS (yes, multiple planners because just one doesn’t cover my life. One for the business, one for school, and then my personal one where I attempt to reconcile all the facets of my life into one place.) I just can’t NOT plan. Menus, to-do lists, lessons, steps or phases to take our business to the next level. While planning is important in life, the very act of planning everything so precisely is that sometimes my thoughts are more future focused, on things and places and people that have not yet been manifested in my life.

It’s in these rare moments of clarity in the midst of chaos that I realize I am in “over-planning” mode, and need to do my best to stop, breathe, and take in this spot where I am right now. It may be a spot of joy, maybe a little bit of a hard place, or maybe even just a place of silence where there is not a lot of activity going on. In each of these times, I need to embrace the now, the blessings and the lessons that are in THIS space. They are for me, from my Father.

I don’t want to miss the bliss.

Sunday, February 5, 2017

Let them eat cake.


"It's not only children who grow. Parents do too. As much as we watch to see what our children do with their lives, they are watching us to see what we do with ours. I can't tell my children to reach for the sun. All I can do is reach for it, myself."
---Joyce Maynard


Cake is usually symbolic of a celebratory time.
It is almost always the foundation of a birthday party, an anniversary celebration, and the decadent addition of a dinner for the record books.
But for me, and for my boys, cake is symbolic of something entirely different. A time of struggle. Of pain. Of loss.
Maybe that’s why I always request cherry pie when my mom asks each year what kind of cake I’d like for my birthday.
And maybe that is precisely why each of my boys enjoy pie over cake.
Just the thought of that makes my heart hurt.
Many years ago - in what I now refer to as my "other life," - when the boys were very young and times were very tough, there were days, and sometimes many days, when there was no food left in the pantry. I learned to scrimp and save and improvise but it seemed like each month – without fail – there would be a series of days when we had next to nothing.
Except…cake mixes.
My grandmother was the queen of coupon clipping. And if you’ve ever clipped coupons you know that cake coupons are a dime a dozen. So each time she and my grandfather would make the drive from East Texas to my place, she would always bring me a sack full of cake and cornbread mixes.
What is almost (but not quite) humorous today, was not at all funny back then. There were many mornings when I’d open the pantry door, looking for something of sustenance for my two young sons, and only an endless row of cake mixes and cornbread batter mixes lined the shelves.
I did what any mother in that situation would do. I scrounged up the eggs and made the batter. I wish I could say that we have sweet memories of those times of eating plain yellow cake for breakfast and for lunch. But the truth is that those memories are more of the bittersweet quality.
Bitter because I am painfully aware that my kids share these memories with me.
But still sweet, because I can look back now and see just how blessed our lives have become since those days.
So it is with such mixed emotion that, all these years later, I've found myself saying about our children - our blended family, let them eat cake. I could never, ever voice this aloud because, quite frankly, I fear no one would understand. This all began to come to me a few days ago as I worked out.
Instead of the usual music in my ear, I used this time for prayer, feeling a special need to lay my heart bare before God. It was one of those moments that come to a mom when she has relinquished all physical control, and yet the mothering "urge" is stronger than ever. I concentrated on lunges, squats, and planks, but in my heart I was crying. “Oh, God. Please let our children experience the same relationship with you that we've found. Be real to them. Very real.”
There was but a moment of silence, both around me and inside me, before His still, small voice spoke to me. Stopped me in my tracks. “Remember what it took to bring you to this place with me?” His voice ushered me back to those stark years, to that one moment when I had no place to turn but to my knees. “Are you sure you’re ready for them to experience that?”
I grew so still inside my soul. I didn’t know how to answer that question. Still don't. I'm fairly certain that I don't WANT to answer that question. Never, ever, ever do I want my children to have to endure the heartache and the pain that I did at their ages, and just beyond. I want to pave the way for them, make life as easy to navigate as possible.
But I also want them to become great men of God.
Men that instinctively know that true strength is found in weakness and that their weaknesses are merely open invitations for God to come in and perform the mighty in their lives.
But the truth is that you can’t teach that to your children.
You can model it.
You can explain it.
You can pray for it.
But, in the end, it is up to them to seek this path for themselves.
And now, as our children are having (and raising) their own children, and the last few strands of my apron strings have been ripped from my waist, I find my heart both bleeding and rejoicing. 
I ache because that's what a Mom does - she feels for that child, long after they are grown and out of her home, and her prayer is that they will learn – much as she did – that God is indeed the sanctuary. 
But...also rejoicing because she trusts their journeys will be as rewarding and as fruitful as hers has been.
Let them eat cake.