Author: Jackie

Auntie, school teacher, serving God wherever He calls me.🤍 "Will you let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you? Pray that I might have the grace to let you be my servant, too."

Efficient, Effective Report Card Preparation – by a Teacher Unqualified to Speak on the Subject

Published on by JackieLeave a comment

*the purpose of this post is simply to relieve the author’s stress during a hectic week. If you are looking for inspiration or insightful teacher advice, I apologize, this post is written by a brain with little wisdom left to offer. 😋

To successfully teach through the week leading up to the report card deadline, there are several important things to remember.

Before I get into those, let me define what I mean by teaching the week “successfully.”

It means having worked ahead all trimester on oral reading, music, and art grades, so all you have to grade are any tests or quizzes you assign that week.

It means breathing calmly, wearing a patient smile, and working productively through organized priority lists every afternoon.

Success means you reach the end of the week with satisfaction after completing another set of report cards with a few hours to spare, and you survived just fine.

This is my fourteenth time doing report cards.

Personally, there are only a few rules to follow to make the process quite manageable.

Work ahead. Do not procrastinate. Definitely don’t get busy planning the Easter program and practicing to direct the mass choir, when you should be taking grades for report cards.

Don’t attempt any extras.

For example, plan a simple art lesson that doesn’t require you to go shopping for supplies. Don’t have a complex poetry assignment to organize with your seventh grade writing class. Don’t ask your co-teachers for a second mass choir practice.

And finally, you must not be sick during report cards week. It does not work.

As you’ve probably guessed by now, I didn’t work ahead.

I did allow myself to be caught up in the Easter program preparations, and suddenly, the report card deadline was looming.

Yes, it was me you saw walking frantically down the store aisle, buying aerosol hairspray for an art project. At a late evening hour on Monday night.

Were those poems I was marking? Yes! But such beautiful, eloquent poetry they wrote… It simply must be made into posters for the Easter season!

And sometimes, extras are unavoidable, like when a student comes inside with a wet dress. There could have been better days, but really, report cards week or not, it’s never a good day to fall in a puddle.

Thankfully, there’s a hair dryer in my car. Oh yes, I need to do my hair before church so I brought my things along – why the hair dryer, I’m not sure, obviously I just grabbed all the hair stuff I could see in my sleepy state this morning.

Spelling papers were passed out. Confused faces. Hands are raised. Many, many hands. Cold, wet, child shivered. Grammar tests called longingly from my desk…

I motion. Hands go down. They wait while I explain. I assign study partners for good measure. Confusion turns to delight – we haven’t done this very often! They’re a bit young, possibly, but thanks to a teacher inspiration day I attended recently, I decide to give it a try.

(It’s also an act of desperation to keep those hands down, as I need to start blow drying that child. Now.)

I race through the cold wind to my car. I didn’t take time to put a coat on. Soon, I’m running/shivering/leaping over puddles as I run back across the parking lot, valiantly bearing a hair dryer.

I crouch. Hair dryer blows. Tension leaves child’s face as she sees that this crazy idea is working.

I explain the hair dryer settings and leave her in charge of that operation. The rest of the morning passes by in a somewhat less harried fashion.

The student who will be traveling completed their assignments. I do an oral reading assessment as well as a spelling test while hoping the rest of the class won’t need too much help with their reading lesson. I need those grades before this student leaves on vacation…

With some juggling and feeling suspiciously stretched, we arrive at lunch. Hot lunch, served by several moms, puts us all in a good mood. No one took fourths of jello or thirds of dessert today. They all returned their utensils without being reminded. They said “thank you” to the cooks.

Story time, cursive writing, corrections, and suddenly, last recess. I decided to skip history because I have a headache. Oral checking and corrections were a good use of our time.

Then we had library time, and art. The art lesson that required me explaining every step of the project, and answering countless questions, and hearing my name until I’m ready to change it to something else, just to hear a different sound, and definitely never going near my chair.

Finally, I found myself spraying hairspray onto all their papers to seal the drawing chalk. It was very cold outside. I vaguely thought of it that I shouldn’t be outside, feeling the way I was…

Finally, my sweet bunch of noisy chaos bounces out the door.

The productive after school routine that is required for effective report card preparation should not revolve around tea. It should not require advil.

You should not look blearily at the calendar and desperately count the days until this craziness is complete.

You should not pray for a snow day.

You should not be listening to the incredibly long list of directions on your doctor’s answering service, when you have work to do.

Because you should never be sick the week of report cards.

Please, believe me – it does not work.

A Day in the Life…

Published on by JackieLeave a comment

Have I mentioned lately that I love teaching?

Sometimes I forget that I do.

It’s easy to get into the routine, get used to the chaos, and start to take the familiarity of school life for granted.

But once in awhile, I remember to sit back and look at my day as though I’m a new teacher again, and I’m amazed at all the things that happen in a day.

When they hired me nearly five years to be a teacher, I naively expected I would study academic matters and find avenues to pass on that knowledge to children. Which I do, every day.

But this is Wednesday morning, and much has already happened beyond academics.

Before the 9:00 bell rang, the peace at my desk was disturbed by the sound of running feet past my door. Several pairs of running feet. I hoped none of my students would do that…? Maybe someone was visiting school with little children?

A moment later, the sound started back my direction. And unfortunately, when I looked toward the door, three very familiar looking coats ran by. I knew those coats… because I spend recess with those coats every day. The wearers of those coats were running, and the wearers of those coats happen to be… my students.

And just like last week on hot lunch day, I thought of my favourite quote for moments like these:

“As soon as you say “My child would never!” Here they come nevering like they never nevered before.”

(Last week there was jello served for hot lunch, which is always a favourite. Some children really like jello, that’s all. And I felt a little more Mom than Teacher as I gave a short spiel about respect, and self-control, and common sense, all in regards to the regulating of jello consumption.)

Thankfully the running incident was corrected with little drama – they’re a respectful, sweet bunch of children. It just so happened that they were playing tag and the game accidently moved into the building. They seemed to think it made perfect sense. And I remember in awe – children think differently.

Teachers correct, encourage, guide, and apparently, give neck massages during recess to the little girl who says she can’t turn her head. You never know what you’ll hear when you answer a raised hand in class, and I’m used to the random moments. However, it’s not every day I hear, “Could you please give me a shoulder massage? It hurts.”

That’s not the most astounding thing I heard this week.

Yesterday, they were discussing CPR at lunch. (Seeing that in type makes me realize – that’s not a typical meal conversation. Unless you’re nine, apparently.)

Through the conversation, a few comments stood out to me:

“Wait, you can die and come back to life? Like, you’d actually see Jesus and heaven but still come back?”

“Oh yeah, that happens to some people.”

“Well, they just are unconcious. Like, they almost die.”

“Wow! I didn’t know that can happen!”

At this point, from his reclined position, around a mouthful of cheetos, a student inserts “I saw Jesus once.”

Instant silence. Most of the students look shocked.

But the girl next to Mr. Cheetos calmly replies, “Really? That’s cool. Did you die once or what?”

Everyone starts panicking that their classmate might’ve had a near death experience that they never heard about.

Miss Calm reminds them that it doesn’t matter, he’s alive and well now. (and casually munching his lunch while everyone else freaks out.)

Apparently he decided there had been enough chaos and paused to say, “Like, it wasn’t the real Jesus that I saw. I saw a picture of Him. It might not even be how He looks, I don’t know. But – I kinda saw Him.”

Once again, I internally shake my head and wonder how kids minds function so differently than adults. It’s something I find fascinating every day; I feel so blessed to have such a front seat view of the antics of God’s small people.

I totally know why Jesus told His followers to become as little children.

When you look past the mischief, the random questions, the seeming lack of common sense – you realize they’re beautifully inquisitive.

They want to learn everything about their world.

They aren’t bound by the restrictions of peer pressure and maintaining an image.

They’re honest. (This is not always entirely a good thing, however they are without question, honest.)

They’re willing to explore, investigate, and learn.

They take risks.

They’re quite fearless, which may or may not cause my blood pressure to spike depending what they attempt. (Class, I do not want to try explaining this to your parents if someone gets hurt while you attempt this…)

But with all these traits, they are fluid, moldable, teachable.

Which is exactly what we need to be for God to work His purposes through us.

Humble enough to be willing to learn so that He can mold us into servants, equipped to serve in His kingdom.

Snowflakes and Joy

Published on by JackieLeave a comment

Warmth floods my heart tonight in spite of the cold outside…

At the end of a day filled with so many beautiful little things, who couldn’t help but smile?

I had promised my Littles an extra skating slot because they had three quizzes yesterday and a test today, poor dears. They deserved a reward for all their hard work! So this morning, we were on the ice before ever going into the classroom.

Snowflakes floated down all around me, settling gently on my hair, dusting everything I could see like a scene from a Christmas card. So peaceful.

We played several rounds of Centerline on the glassy smooth ice that’s only experienced in the first slot of the day.

The other teacher and I were the last two people free, and my students giggled in delight when we had to go “it” for the next round.

Don’t ever think that being the teacher makes games easier with young children! It’s much more exhausting to play games as a teacher than a student.

When you’re the teacher, they ALL chase you… and I don’t mind at all. I laugh as the whole mob flocks after me, then I allow them to overtake me after giving them a good challenge first.

Soon they started to practice all their “cool” hockey moves, testing their nine year old coordination to its limits.

Next, they graduated to imitating Mr. Popper’s penguins in their approach to the end zone, laughing as they zoomed toward the boards headfirst on their stomachs. (Thankfully my penguins can turn, roll, and sit up as needed to prevent this form of amusement from becoming catastrophic!)

A song floated through my mind as I paused at one side to simply observe the game and soak in the beauty of pure childish enthusiasm. “I still have joy, I still have joy, after all the things we’ve been through… I still have joy!”

So many parts of teaching aren’t idyllic like this scene. But in moments like this, I know with confidence that it’s all worth it.

Yes, there are little problems that you face daily, threatening to wear through your patience. That’s only to be expected when you are working with a roomful of immature people who all have an Adamic nature – and you’re one of them.

There are relationships to continually monitor and mend.

There are always those who struggle in one area or another, and sometimes the solutions seem illusive though we try so hard to help.

Every day, a group of children enters my classroom. They need to be taught, guided, corrected, nurtured, encouraged, and loved.

Some days, the responsibility feels a little heavy.

But looking back, I’ve seen change over the years. I’ve watched these children grow.

The tenth grader who looks me in the eye and smiles when we pass in the hall…

The wee girl who used to be afraid to come to school, now bouncing confidently through the door with a lively sparkle in her eyes every day…

The boy who returned the question when I asked him how his day was going… I wonder if he could hear the heartfelt meaning when I simply replied, “it’s going very well, thank you!”

My shiny eyes after he passed were from recalling the many times he had rebuffed attempts at conversation in the past…

These students that fight through insecurity, that hesitantly start to believe what we tell them, that they are loved and precious in God’s sight… they are why I teach.

I’m seeing these students learning to reach outside of their walls, to not only let others in but to reach out and touch others hearts, and it’s beautiful.

These moments, these enormously important so-called “little things” are why I teach.

No, it hasn’t all been an easy journey, but I keep on because I love it.

Because so many little moments sprinkled into every day make the journey beautiful.

And “after all the things we’ve been through, I still have joy!”

2023: A Book Worthy of its Place on my Shelf

Published on by Jackie1 Comment

So, it’s here.

Here, and two minutes close to ending…

This last day of the year 2023.

I find it interesting how we put so much emphasis on the ending of an old year, and welcome the new year with so many emotions… when what really changes in life from 11:59 to 12:00?

Yet, imagine if life was one endless rolling span of time with no way to measure it.

I am so grateful that God created time for us, because He knew we would need those milestones.

It’s a way of sorting life into chapters, actually. Or little hardcover books, that together compile an entire set of volumes which tell a person’s life story.

New Years Day is like the beautiful cover of an empty book. Everything the year holds then goes into it page by page, and December 31 closes the back cover, completing that part of the journey.

(If my comparison of a year to a book seems odd, I apologize… it makes sense to me, but that’s probably because I’m a writer at heart and love all things that contain words, so… books, yes. Also, writers are known to be a rather fanciful, imaginative sort, and therefore may draw far fetched comparisons. Enough said on that bunny trail…)

The covers of a book really don’t tell you what it contains, yet they influence you to decide if it’s worthwhile reading or not.

You don’t know when you start reading what direction the story will go to end up at the last page.

Likewise, the first and last day of a year don’t reveal many details of the events within the year – yet when you compare just those two days, they reveal what kind of year you just lived.

On January 1st, 2023, I was joyful, loving life.

December 31, 2023, I am still joyful. But oh, so much more intensely alive!

The covers of the book don’t reveal all the steps of the journey I walked between them – but the difference from one to the other shows a good year, a year of growth a year to praise God for.

They say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, and I respect that.

But when it comes to evaluating the year… I’d rather like to judge by the progress made from one cover to the other.

I could jump into the middle of March, or June, or September, and I’d only have pieces of the story.

I could compare the tears I cried with the number of times I sang for joy at the top of my voice, and decide by that… but it might not be accurate.

What if, even in times of turmoil, God is doing so much good in us that we can’t help but call the story good?

And if the entire year was joyful and easy, would I have been challenged to grow? And if not, how sad, to have lived a whole year with so little accomplished.

I prefer to judge my year by the front and back cover: What was my prayer when I entered 2023, and could I see God’s answer by the last day?

…Oh, YES.

This year, I hoped to blossom. Today, I know I have. It doesn’t matter that the pages of the story don’t hold what I expected them to on January 1st, what matters is that God was faithful to answer my prayer – in His way, but always faithful.

And if God is faithful, God is good… and any year that shows His goodness is a story that was worth the living!

So as I close the cover of 2023, forever sealing into that book every moment I lived within its pages, I place it on the shelf of years gone by with peace in my heart.

It’s not a volume I need to bury, or wish I could remove from the set. I lived it with God at my side and His faithfulness is written into every line, making it a good year. It’s a year I would not change or redo – I am ready for the new year, but I value the place 2023 holds in my life story.

So I place it in it’s worthy position on the shelf, where God asks me to lay it down in the section marked “Past,” and I turn to accept the new book He offers.

This one is blank. It’s called 2024. I trust God to make it beautiful in whatever way He chooses.

Blessings to you all as you open the cover of a new book… let God write the story and you will find 2024 to be another year of experiencing His goodness!

East, West, Home… I guess

Published on by JackieLeave a comment

Today is… a heart full and a mind full of swirling things.

The weekend was amazing. Full, rich, exciting, and beautiful, all in one.

Meeting new people… reconnecting with those I’ve met before… and discussing all angles of life with a great friend who approaches every situation in a similar fashion as I do.

Being myself. Free.

Figuring out people and learning things about myself, hashing it all out with said friend, and nearly exhausted from the intensity… yet somehow finding it energizing.

And definitely, loving every minute of it.

But you can’t make a weekend last forever, and eventually you need to return to your normal life – especially if you’re spending the weekend hours away from your home in another country.

So, here I am, back at school, with my mind still spinning and my heart overflowing.

The church bells across town play “The Little Drummer Boy” and a smile splits my face as I’m taken back to the Christmas play I was part of.

Sure, I’m back on home turf, but the memories travelled with me. The vibrancy of the whole experience still fills me.

I start singing “Waymaker” on the soccer field and soon snatches of the song are heard from one end to the other in the boisterous voices of my littles.

I smile.

Yeah, coming home was sad – “East, west, home is best”… I guess.

But isn’t home really just wherever your heart is? It doesn’t have to be one location.

Life is good. Life holds so much potential.

So even as I’m back home and facing the unknowns of my future, I know I’ll find home to be the best, no matter where that is.

Bacause wherever I go with God is home…

And wherever He leads will always be best.

Miracles

Published on by JackieLeave a comment

I’ve started several posts lately and left them unfinished … but now I know what I’m trying to capture.

Life has been so good lately, so full of beauty, saturated with miracles.

Miracles, I’ve learned, are everywhere. Any evidence of God’s hand at work is a miracle, but we need to have eyes of faith to see them.

A speaker I heard recently, shared a comment that has stayed with me: “You’ve got to plan for miracles.”

I’ve thought about that a lot… it’s complex, because we can’t plan what the miracles will be, even though we might be full of suggestions for God.

What we can plan though, is that He will do something.

He will provide.

He will carry us.

He will stay with us.

And He will show up in all sorts of amazing little ways that become miracles when we see all of life through a faith-filled perspective.

Last week, it was a sunset that glowed vibrantly and felt like it was an “I love you” written across the sky from God.

On Monday, I got a soccer ball kicked into my face and knew I would need a visit to my chiropractor. But HOW would I get an appointment before leaving on my next trip?

Of course they were all booked up, but I asked to be placed on the wait list. Then I thanked God that even if I couldn’t get my shoulders adjusted, He would heal me or make a way possible to enjoy my weekend away.

Five minutes later, the receptionist called back and had an availability for that evening – 15 minutes after I would leave my bank. The driving time was 10 minutes.

Coincidence? Personally, no. I give God the glory and thanks for those moments!

I’ve met people who speak truth into my life and share encouragement that is exactly what I need at the time.

Each encounter fills me with awe at His goodness, in arranging these meetings.

Then there’s been this whole car situation… I needed to get a spare key cut, but their schedule was completely full last night. They offered to squeeze me in first thing this morning, and I absolutely thanked them – and God!

When I arrived this morning, they said the key I need isn’t in stock. To state it mildly, my inner reaction to that wasn’t entirely calm. I replied without freaking out though, simply stating that I was told just last night that they have stock.

He disappeared to go and check, and returned saying it’s here.

I don’t know what happened there, but God knew I need that key this morning. So God took care of that little detail – that miracle.

He’s everywhere, working in every aspect of life, when you look for Him.

When you thank Him for all that He’s going to do on your behalf, in full faith that He is working, He will prove Himself worthy of your trust.

The miracles might not be the ones you ask for. Your ideas and suggestions cannot sway what He knows is best for you.

But no matter where you are, if you invite Him to work in your life in His way, you will begin to see miracles which are evidence of His interest in your life.

You’ve just got to plan for miracles!

Introducing… Beta

Published on by JackieLeave a comment

I brought Beta home tonight!

She’s a 2013 Toyota Camry LE, and I am officially thrilled to be her new owner.

I know, my previous post on this topic mentioned names like Vivianne or Samantha… but none of them seemed quite right.

And eventually I decided, what better name for my second car than Beta, literally meaning, the second.

Considering the fact that people say I’m the 2.0 version of who I was a year ago… it felt like the car that I’ll be driving forward into this next season of life should be named something that includes the number “two.”

Because of restoration… and new chapters… and all that He’s done in my life… the number two just seemed so fitting for this car that feels like another gift from God.

So, Beta she is. (In case you’re not aware, Beta has a value of two in the Greek numeral system. Sorry, I’m a writer… I like wordplay ;)).

And yes, once again, I’ll say it myself:

I know that I overthink things.

And I’m fully aware that it’s just an automobile to use as my earthly mode of transportation.

But, why not add some spice to life with a few harmless, creative quirks, like naming my car?!

I bought my favourite air fresheners.

I have a glass writer to add some inspiration to the rearview mirror… (I think I’ll stick with what I had in my Belinda car: “I do not travel alone; Jesus is with me.”)

The wooden angel with Psalm 91:11 written on it is in my desk at school, ready to be hung on the mirror tomorrow morning.

I was wondering how I would feel at home in a Camry, since I was so used to my Sentra, but since I drove her home from the dealer I know this Beta car will soon feel like my own.

Especially when it has my personal touches added.

Now all I need to do is come up with words for the license plate to become a fitting acronym.😁

Art Class

Published on by JackieLeave a comment

Today’s art class was going to be calm and organized, so that I can leave school at dismissal and get to my much needed massage appointment on time.

However, “art class,” “calm,” and “organized” shouldn’t ever be in the same sentence. In my fifth year of teaching, I’m still learning that.

The only way to describe today’s class is “in my face.”

As I walk around the room, hands are popping up – in my face.

Papers are jumping off desks for approval and advice – in my face.

A bloody tooth on a palm covered in chalk dust appears – uncomfortably close to my face.

My face is trying to stay calm, even though deep inside – I might not actually be.

The student who just thrust an obtusely drawn candle flame in my face sounds worried. “Miss Wideman, I… accidentally made it wide.”

That’s repairable, with some oil pastel blending, and I move on.

The next group is sniffing the hairspray I used to fix the chalk on their artwork.

“Ahhh, roses!”

“Wow, that’s niccccce.”

“Hmm. I like that!”

“Ewww! It smells BAD!”

At the last comment, the first three pause in their appreciative inhalations and look confused.

The negative student is a boy – with sisters – who probably use hairspray. Therefore, it has to smell bad. He can’t call it anything else!

Now everyone solemnly agrees with him that it smells like mosquito spray, and all suggestions of roses are no longer being verbalized.

As they continue furtively sniffing their papers, I move on to explain to another student what the purpose of hairspray really is. He couldn’t figure out why such a great art product would be called “hairspray.”

It is at this point that the tooth nearly collided with my nose.

“Can I get a paper towel? I just pulled out my tooth.”

(Yes. In art class. With chalk pastels on your fingers. Of course, that seems like a logical thing to do… all in a day’s work, you know.)

“Sure, please go ahead!” (I hope he didn’t hear the emphasis on please that I was mentally feeling!)

The conversation moves to what chalk pastels are made of.

“Literally, coloured dust! They’re just dust!”

I automatically replied, “so are we.”

I should have known better. I mean, we are made of dust, but what was I thinking to remind a class of nine-year-olds about that fact?!

“Wait. WHAT?!”

“Ohhh, yeah! Remember? God was explaining about how to make Adam!” (her partner looks very confused as though she doesn’t remember the conversation.) “Like, it was in the Bible He was explaining it.” “Oh, yes. Now I know what you’re talking about.” With that, art resumed, at least for that group…

On the other side of the room, they progress to discussing mummification, following these bridges:

“We’re made of dust, but we actually also GO BACK to dust,” a student importantly announces. “So if you dig up a grave, you would literally just find dust.”

“Except my grandma! She’ll still have her two metal knees.” (Currently, grandma is recovering from knee replacements but she is very alive and well)

“But everything else will be dust!”

“What? NO! They dug Pharaoh up, and he was still… all nice! Well, like, not nice probably, but… not dust!”

“Oh, him. Well that’s because they made him into a MUMMY.”

“Still dust,” came a quiet comment from a head that was diligently bent over his art project.

The previously requested paper towel is now stuffed into the mouth which is recently minus one tooth.

Another child hops across the room, snapping his fingers, going to select his next oil pastel.

Little people and coloured chalk dust are everywhere.

Art class is happening in fourth grade – in top gear!

***

Update: The desks are cleaned, pastels have been returned to boxes, and the children are dismissed. Minus one tooth and a paper towel that has now been thrown in the garbage. I will make it to my appointment on time, breathless and needing the relaxation of a massage more than I did prior to art class.

Now I shall exhale, recover, and look forward to next Wednesday afternoon, when I get to repeat the circus!

It’s Been a Good Ride

Published on by JackieLeave a comment

A few days ago, I said goodbye to my first car and watched it being winched onto the back of a tow truck.

I’ve been scrolling autotrader, comparing prices and specs, admiring sleek sedans and expensive rims… and reminding myself of my budget.

Car shopping really is fun, I’ve discovered. It’s exciting to dream about what I’ll be driving.

Before I buy a new car though, I’m reflecting on the years with my first car, which my teenage self jokingly dubbed Belinda.

After many conversations in which my dad outlined the budget and I vetoed many cars I deemed “ugly,” we settled on the Nissan Sentra. I liked the tail lights and the fact that she was little.

I remember feeling so sophisticated that first Sunday as I stepped out of my new car at church, wearing heels of course. I had sponged Belinda until she shone for the occasion, and I was in my teenage Girl Boss prime.

That car zipped out of the highschool parking lot for Tim’s runs during lunch break, and strong, lasting friendships were formed.

We solved life issues inside her, planned our weddings, and helped eachother with homework assignments. There was nothing our girl squad, our cars, and maybe a frying pan couldn’t handle.

The first winter I had her, before she got snow tires, I spun circles on the fresh snow in the school parking lot. (And no, that is not something I’ve done in recent years, but it was a great after school stress reliever for a first year teacher.)

I loved winter driving (except when I couldn’t see). With a good set of snow tires, I drove with confidence and embraced the challenge of the early morning drive to work before the roads are cleared. Belinda’s bumper sent many powder drifts flying, and we never went off the road.

During the long, lonely weeks of covid lockdowns, I would take my dog through the Tim Horton’s drive through on Friday nights – just for a chance to go somewhere in my car. The growling sounds from the darkened interior of my Sentra were a little unexpected for the Tim’s staff, and I received many odd looks. Of course, my poodle always barked out the back window as we drove away.

In times of teenage drama, I used to jump into that car and drive to the trail near my house where I’d go for a walk and sort out my thoughts.

It was that car that everyone recognized as mine because of the huge, fluffy steering wheel inside – real sheep wool, dyed my favourite shade of blush.

There have been countless after youth chats until the wee hours with neighbourhood friends who I used to carpool with… I realize now that I had that car for awhile. Those chats are a distant memory and those friendships have faded with the changes of time.

In more recent years, those late night drives became a place to think, my own quiet time.

I know it’s just a car, but these memories linked to it are still precious to sift through.

She was a big part of my becoming an independent adult – that little Sentra was my step into freedom and adventure.

This past summer, Belinda faithfully drove to Tennessee, through the Smoky Mountains, and rolled steadily through it all.

Her last trip was my solo road trip, just a few weeks ago. I’m planning to go again soon and it feels odd that I won’t be taking Belinda, but a new car (if I get one in time, that is!)

That car has been rocked with laughter, it’s heard heart-to-heart conversations, it listened to my tears and rang with my singing.

I used glass writers to write my favourite inspirations on the mirror or other surfaces… the last one I put on the rearview mirror said “I do not journey alone, for Jesus is with me.”

Yes, she frequently needed repairs and many people say it was a problem car – which is true. But I loved my little Sentra.

I’m glad to know where I’m at, as I was tired of paying repair bills and wondering what would go wrong next. But still, nostalgia outweighed that relief as I unloaded my things from every nook and cranny, finding missing clothes in her trunk for the last time.

A friend of mine was trying to imagine me without a Sentra. We both wonder what that will be like.

But although it has been a huge part of my personality and life to create quirky memories and pursue adventure in that car, now that those times are over I see it clearly: I lived and left my girlhood in that car, and I’m not the same person anymore. (Thankfully!)

So as I ride into a new chapter of adult life, it seems fitting that I’ll have a new car to drive into the future.

It’s truly been a good ride, Belinda.

Now I’ll look forward to continuing the journey in Vivianne, Samantha, or Josephine, depending on the model I get!

Sifting

Published on by Jackie1 Comment

I’m feeling totally relaxed at the end of a blissfully calm day…

I spent a cozy Sunday at home, with a fuzzy blanket, coffee, a nice soak in the tub (yes, with lavendar scented bubbles…)

I didn’t read much… I didn’t write at all, until now…

I sat, and I thought… reflective thoughts, just whatever floated to the surface of my mind thoughts…

and I realized, I was sifting memories.

The car crash that totalled my Belinda car and caused the whiplash that kept me at home today may have been timed according to Divine will.

In fact, I’m convinced it was.

I needed this weekend to be still, to sift through things properly, and God knows my active personality won’t slow down unless forced 🙂

So, forced as I was, I had only my thoughts for company, and all the time to sift them well instead of just ignoring them.

I recently taught my students about the Klondike gold rush, and the method that prospectors used to pan for gold (scooping dirt into a special pan, pouring water through, rinsing out the dirt and stones and leaving only the gold).

I realized today, that that’s exactly how I need to treat memories.

Some memories are painful, or ugly, and it’s so easy to just dump them out. To refuse them a place in your story.

Other memories are beautiful. They’re priceless, and we focus on them.

But when both are woven together, how do we remember the beautiful times without letting the negative parts darken them? How do we avoid losing the beauty buried beneath the hurt-filled stories we throw out?

And the answer I came to… we sift.

Some chapters can only be sifted by letting tears flow over the memories. Somehow, in that process, the hurt is washed away… it slowly fades… and we can smile through the tears at the good that was present in those times.

They might be tremulous smiles, but more beautiful than those who’ve never known pain.

They are the smiles of a survivor. A fighter. Someone who dared to face their story in completeness, and sifted until they found something worth smiling about.

You know, good things can become lost when they get buried in layers of ugliness.

It’s tedious work to dig through it all and unearth the gold…

It would be so much easier to throw it all out and refuse to think about it.

In sifting parts of my life, I realized I’ve done that – I’ve remembered the bad and lost sight of the good.

How can I “grow through what I go through” if the miracles, the lessons, the blessings, and all the beauty in the journey is lost?

The times when God is most precious, most real, have been in my darkest hours. If I refuse those memories a place in my story, how will I keep the faith-building moments sprinkled throughout?

But if I can wash away the layers of hurt, confusion, anger, or whatever else you might have piled up… sift through them and bathe them in tears… and let them go:

Then all I’ll be holding is the gold.

And everything will be beautiful.

Only the good remains.