Wilson Politics

While having a tea party with her dad, Dan asked her what she thought of the current political situation. She said," Politics are not good right now. They are old and don't work." When he asked her how she thought they could be better, she said, "Fix it!"

That's a brilliant girl!

Finding the Positive

It's 4:05 on Friday afternoon. The start of what should be a great weekend. I'm the new president of the Plains States Kodaly Organization, and we're ready for our first workshop Saturday morning with me at the helm. I get in my car, flip out my phone, and see that I have two missed calls. That's odd...nobody ever calls me. I check the messages to hear that our clinician and her husband are at the baggage claim in Lincoln and wondering if someone will be picking them up. I'm currently in Omaha. On a Friday afternoon...

The last I had communicated with our clinician, she mentioned that she might rent a car. I never checked back with her, and boom...now she's stranded at the airport 60 miles away. The next message had come in about 2 hours later, when she and her husband took the shuttle to the airport. But...still no car. I call her and tell her I'm on my way to meet her at the hotel and we (my family) will pick them up and take them somewhere for dinner.

I swing into daycare to get Dayna, to be reminded at first sight that it was pajama day, and my daughter has no presentable clothes on her body. So...while frantically navigating rush hour traffic, I spend an hour on the phone making contingency plans. Dan agrees to stop at Wal-Mart and buy an outfit for Dayna, then meet me at the hotel.

All's well at this point...we have a lovely steak dinner (because that's where you take people when they come to Nebraska) that I wasn't budgeting for (financially or caloric intake), and I spent the evening shuttling them for some last-minute errands. Not a problem...just not part of my original plan. I get home late, with no time to finish my own last-minute details. They'll just have to go undone.

Saturday comes...it's a lovely workshop. Things go swimmingly. Great turnout, and we actually turned a profit! After the workshop, we take our guests out to lunch. She sees Sonic and gets excited, as there are no Sonics where she lives. We dine in. Toward the end of the meal, an increasingly grumpy and tired Dayna takes the garbage to throw it away. Her hand gets pinched in the hinged part of the garbage container. I jump up to go to her rescue, only to slip on the tile floor and go down with all my weight on my wrist.

The day continues, I go home, my wrist is throbbing, I'm tired and cranky myself, but trying to keep that stiff upper lip. I flip through some papers, including the contract for our clinician and discover that we underpaid her by quite a bit. There goes our profit. So...I'm feeling like a miserable leader: leaving the clinician stranded AND underpaid. I'm ready for them to impeach me.

I finally fall asleep with many painkillers in my system to offset the throbbing wrist, only to wake up restless at 4 am. At 5, I gave up. At 6, Dayna got up to join me, complaining that she wasn't feeling well.

At 9:00, Dayna and I walked into the Quick Care clinic at a grocery store 20 miles away. Still trying to maintain a healthy outlook, I received two decisively positive pieces of news:

1. Dayna's rapid strep test
and
2. Mine

What a weekend!

A Great Start

I'm into my third week of school now (second with students). I can't begin to describe how great this year is going so far. I have a new principal who is very supportive and has infused our building with a lot of positive energy. My students are showing immediate success with new concepts and quick recall of things they learned last year, before taking several months away for vacation. While my body is physically spent from returning, my spirits are high, and I'm very excited to see what the rest of the year holds.

New Blog

I started a new blog that I intend to use for my digital scrapbooking pages. Please feel free to take a peek.

www.wilsonpages.blogspot.com

These pages are for my family's personal use. You may admire, ooh and aahh, and even slobber on your screen in envy. But I do ask that you refrain from printing the pages. Thanks!

Rough Weekend

Dayna's had a tough weekend. On Friday night, Buddy, the sweet boxer at daycare, had to be put down. We broke the news to her on Saturday night. As much as we had tried to prepare her that "Buddy is very sick, and God might be calling him to heaven soon", she's really struggled with this whole concept. She actually took the news pretty well, but you can tell she's been ruminating on all of this throughout the weekend.

Then, she ended up with another one of her classic bug bites that reacts in ways that no normal bite should react. The back of her left leg has a spot of big and little blisters. Pretty gross looking. At Sunday School, two doctors and two nurses looked at it, then deemed it not wise for Dayna to go into class in case it was a rash. My gut said to give her some Benadryl and it would get better, but the doctors both suggested we take Dayna to get it seen that day. Dayna was heartbroken to not get to see her friends at Sunday School. Then, our dilemma was that Dan & I were serving in children's ministries second hour. I had to teach (Dayna's class) and Dan was the production/sound guy. Dayna got to stay with her daddy, and as soon as that was over, they ran to Urgent Care. An hour later, when my class was over, a friend dropped me off. When all was said and done, we spent 2 1/2 hours at Urgent Care. That's a long time with a hungry, sleepy mommy (I mean four-year-old.) And that doctor couldn't really tell us what was going on, either. So...we gave up a good portion of the day to be told to rub some cream on it and give her Benadryl.

Why didn't I think of that? Oh wait...I did.

Hope you get better soon, Sweetheart!

Loving the Church

Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her. Ephesians 5:25

I've been thinking about this verse lately. You know...it takes an awful lot of love for Christ to keep loving his church. Think about it: we're petty, we mask gossip as "prayer requests", we indulge in pride, and if we're honest, self-righteousness. We're imperfect people representing the Living God. And yet He still loves us. Perfectly.

This is a pretty tall order for a husband. Especially mine. Because, you see, I'm petty. And lazy. And impatient. And harsh. And moody. Pretty darn unlovable a lot of the time.

But my husband isn't an ordinary man. He somehow manages to keep loving me. With a gentle word. A helpful spirit. Sometimes with a lot of space. He just keeps loving and loving me. Maybe not perfectly, but a lot better than I seem to be able to do.

I don't know what I did to deserve God's favor and get Dan as my husband. Thank You, Lord, for blessing me beyond all I ask or imagine. And thank You for showing our men Your perfect love for Your imperfect church.

Birds...not Yet Bees

Yesterday, Dayna and I were having some snuggle time on the couch. We don't read this book often (or at least often enough), but she wanted me to read "Shaoey and Dot." Most of you who follow my blog are very familiar with this book, but for the uninitiated, it's a story by Steven Curtis Chapman and his wife, Marybeth. It tells the story of an abandoned baby in China who is found by a little ladybug. The ladybug becomes a fast friend and follows the baby to the orphanage, eventually her "Gotcha Day" and finally home on a great big airplane. It's told in rhyme and has some very tender moments. (Probably why I don't read it often, as I cry everytime.)

At the end of the story, I started talking with Dayna a little bit about her story before she met us. We talked about her being a baby in a basket, only she wasn't found by a ladybug, she was found by a nice woman named Dong Ling who became her favorite nanny. She asked me who left her in the basket. My response was her other mommy and daddy, who loved her very much, and were probably very sad that they couldn't take care of her. "Who's my other mommy again?" Dayna asked. I told her the woman in China whose tummy Dayna grew inside. (This is a conversation we have had many, many times. She does know how the story goes, but somehow wanted to put a new twist on it this time.) Our tender moment was gone when Dayna looked at me and said in her silly voice, "Did I hatch out like a baby bird?"

Another Sleepless Night

Just in time for back to work...I'm not sleeping again. Last night I finally drifted off at about 1:15 (went to bed at 10:00). At exactly 1:20, Dayna woke up screaming with a massive nosebleed. Precious sleep eventually found me around 3:00.

How do you pass the time? Last night I figured out the books of the Bible in alphabetical order:

1. Acts
2. Amos
3. Colossians
4. Daniel
5. Deuteronomy
6. Ecclesiastes
7. Ephesians
8. Esther
9. Exodus
10. Ezekiel
11. Ezra
12. First Chronicles
13. First Corinthians
14. First John
15. First Kings
16. First Peter
17. First Samuel
18. First Thessalonians
19. First Timothy
20. Galatians
21. Genesis
22. Habakkuk
23. Haggai
24. Hebrews
25. Hosea
26. Isaiah
27. James
28. Jeremiah
29. Job
30. Joel
31. John
32. Jonah
33. Joshua
34. Jude
35. Judges
36. Lamentations
37. Leviticus
38. Luke
39. Malachi
40. Mark
41. Matthew
42. Micah
43. Nahum
44. Nehemiah
45. Numbers
46. Obadiah
47. Philemon
48. Philippians
49. Proverbs
50. Psalms
51. Revelation
52. Romans
53. Ruth
54. Second Chronicles
55. Second Corinthians
56. Second John
57. Second Kings
58. Second Peter
59. Second Samuel
60. Second Thessalonians
61. Second Timothy
62. Song of Solomon
63. Third John
64. Titus
65. Zechariah
66. Zephaniah

Pathetic, aren't I?

Where Do You Draw the Line?

I'm a mom. I'm also a teacher. Those two roles shouldn't conflict, but here's my dilemma, in all it's raw honesty:

I have found in ten years in the public schools that some of the easiest parents to work with also happen to be teachers. I have also found that the worst parents to work with happen to be teachers. I have always vowed to not be *that* parent. I hate to admit it, but no matter how lovable the child may be, if the parents are difficult, I tend to not give any extra help to their children. If for no other reason than to avoid conflict. (And while I'm being honest, if I'm having trouble to the point where I need a parent's input, the child is probably not that lovable to begin with.)

Well...we've had some difficulty with someone providing services to Dayna through the school district. We feel that Dayna has not been helped, and recently discovered that some harm may have actually been done. For two years, we've been afraid to say anything because we don't want to be *those* parents. We didn't want to turn someone against our child because we were too pushy. She's not even school-age yet, and we don't want her relationship with school personnel to be negatively set before she starts Kindergarten.

And yet...we're her only parents. We need to be her advocates and speak up for her. We will likely cause more harm by not speaking up. It's a tricky, touchy situation and a fine line to draw. Definitely one we must cover in prayer.

Today was Dayna's annual IEP (Individual Education Plan) meeting. We're going to see some changes in her care this year. Please pray that these are positive changes, and that, if necessary, Dan & I will have the wisdom, courage and humility to address the concerns we have for Dayna.

Something New

I'm trying to be a good mom and get our vacation pictures in the scrapbook. Knowing that I will *never* sit down and finish anything with paper and scissors, I'm looking into digital scrapbooking. I've done about 20 pages so far. Enjoy my layouts for the 4th of July.

Poem text:

I watched the flag pass by one day.

It fluttered in the breeze

A young Marine saluted it,

and then He stood at ease.

I looked at him in uniform

So young, so tall, so proud

With hair cut square and eyes alert

He'd stand out in any crowd.

I thought, how many men like him

Had fallen through the years?

How many died on foreign soil?

How many mothers' tears?

How many Pilots' planes shot down?

How many foxholes were soldiers' graves?

No, Freedom is not free.

I heard the sound of taps one night,

When everything was still.

I listened to the bugler play

And felt a sudden chill.

I wondered just how many times

That taps had meant "Amen"

When a flag had draped a coffin

of a brother or a friend.

I thought of all the children,

Of the mothers and the wives,

Of fathers, sons and husbands

With interrupted lives.

I thought about a graveyard

at the bottom of the sea

Of unmarked graves in Arlington.

No, Freedom isn't free!!