Author: Jackie

Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t call my classroom a circus, or my sister’s house a zoo…

But I did jump straight from one form of chaos to another, and no, I don’t mind. I thrive on chaos, especially when it’s created at least partially by children.

Those last weeks of school were slightly circus like, when I think about 23 children & a slip n slide obstacle course (oh, and their 2 soaking wet teachers, who may have taken a slide or two as well…).

The craziness of June was packed with delightfully fun moments to spice up the dryness of review lessons and final tests. But overall, fun as it is, June at school is a little chaotic. It just is.

So I was all ready to exhale, when instead I found myself thrown into mom world. My sister was recovering and caring for her newborn, and I had a toddler in my care.

When I heard him talking in his crib that first morning, my first thought was, “oh no, now I have to figure out how to feed him breakfast. What does this creature eat, anyway?!” (I was relieved to find a sticky note on the table with instructions… and I was pleasantly surprised to learn that he eats cereal with milk. Just like me. No baby food grinder needed, no specific preparation methods.)

I optimistically thought that it would be a breeze after the breakfast hurdle was so easily conquered. After all, I’m used to doing life with a room full of 10-year-olds. Just one barely-two-year-old couldn’t be too hard to handle!

I was wrong.

Add a morning and afternoon snack besides meals (yes, he gets to rub food on his face 5 times a day!), naptime, a big labrador retriever, and a new baby brother… and you have all the ingredients for a zoo. Then try to coordinate it all while getting the housework done.

As I work, my mind analyzes every task according to my newly acquired priorities.

If I leave this task for later, will anyone go hungry? Will anyone run out of clean clothes to wear? Does it need a diaper change? Is it crying? Is anyone going to be grumpy? Is the baby in danger of brotherly displays of affection which may not be entirely gentle?

Therefore the laundry gets washed regularly, but doesn’t always get folded promptly. There have been 3 meals on the table every day. (That might be easy for some of you, but this is from a teacher who hadn’t cooked supper since her March break!) I’ve even been pleased to discover that I DO enjoy cooking, now that I know what’s around to cook with, and I have the opportunity to work in the kitchen.

The dishes get washed routinely, not because anyone is crying or hungry, but because I would get grumpy if I had to work in a messy kitchen. So I make that a priority, next to diapers, hugs, and snacks for my assistant… who willingly has his fingers in all my tasks whenever possible.

It’s been absolutely delightful.

Toddlers are smart, I’ve discovered.

The educator in me has attempted to teach him lessons such as how to use a watering can (pour at least some of the water onto the plants, not just on yourself) how to pick lettuce (only the green stuff goes in the bowl, even if clods of dirt produce a more exciting sound), and how to chase bubbles (because babies trying to catch bubbles is simply an adorable scene).

He’s learning at a much faster rate than my students do, because there is so much to discover about the world at his age. He learns with all 5 senses, but tasting seems to be a favourite method.

Chocolate chips are delicious. Always. The first time he gets into the bag, and the second…

Mama’s garden flip-flops, although they were so tempting for sore teething gums to bite, didn’t have a great flavour. Just going by his disgusted expression…

We had just come inside one day, and after washing the garden mud off myself, I used a cloth to wash puppy kisses off him. He bent forward suddenly and licked my recently soapy arm. “Oh my!” the little voice proclaimed in a horrified tone.

He hasn’t tried eating flip flops or licked me since. He still loves chocolate. Learning by taste seems to work well for him.

Today his daddy made a profound comment while he sat in his high chair, eating.

“Um – don’t blow your nose with lunch meat!”

(Unfortunately no one could hold their laughter in, so… we may see that episode attempted again.)

He is also practicing how to show affection to his little brother. He kisses him, offers him his toys, climbs up to peek into the bassinet, makes gagging noises in his face and giggles (why, I have no idea – he loves discovering new sound effects!), shares his soother (yes, we have to sterilize it many times a day after rescuing it from big brother’s mouth), brings him any baby blankets he finds, rocks the baby swing to make the ride more interesting, kisses him again… and all day, every day, we hear him softly repeat “baby, baby, baby,” as he plays.

The bath water sprays everywhere. He follows me up the stairs and investigates the contents of my drawers. We walk slowly back down the stairs, hand in hand – it would be faster to carry him, but he’s SO proud. As he carefully places his foot on the next step, he says “mmHMM!” each time.

Now he’s sound asleep and I’m home for the weekend. My house is incredibly quiet… and for some reason, I feel tired. And I realize what happened to my life as soon as school was out.

I went from the circus to the zoo. And loved it!

Two short weeks ago, I had just enjoyed my first day of summer vacation and prepared to have a relaxing lavendar bath.

I arrived at the end of the school term, weary, but I made it through. Now I would enjoy a season of rest before diving into summer activities.

I sank into the hot water and bubbles, lazily dreaming about the slower pace life would have now…

Three minutes into my soak, it was cut short by a knock on the door. “Hurry, you’re needed at your sister’s house to babysit!”

Apparently the baby who wasn’t due for another couple of weeks had decided to arrive early, and the two weeks of help which I’d promised my sister would be starting… now.

I got my calendar cleared, my things packed, and before I mentally had switched gears, I found myself moving into a cozy upstairs bedroom at my sister’s house.

I remember asking in the busy whirlwind, “God, what about the rest I was longing for?”

But two weeks later, I haven’t had time to miss that resting.

God gave me an adorable baby nephew.

And because I agreed to take on the job of helping my sister, God also gave me my toddler nephew to take care of… a house to clean… laundry… meals to cook… a garden to keep weed free (LOL – Nice try) and… a strawberry patch. It’s doing well, by the way. It produces endless strawberries.

I never knew the self-discipline that a strawberry patch could instill in me. When I want to stay up late reading, all it takes is the remembrance of those strawberries, and I choose to go to sleep…Because I like to get them picked before my favourite “helper” wakes up. Therefore, I need to get up at a decent time. So there’s none of that summer sleeping in that I looked forward to, but I’m going to bed early! All because of those strawberries.

You know, it’s true. Sometimes a change is as good as a rest.

And God always gives us His very best, according to what He knows that we need.

The 2022 – 2023 school year has officially ended, and the many golden moments of teaching have been added to history in the timeline of my life.

The last day, a picnic with all the students and parents, was yesterday.

It was all a blur of excited children, appreciative parents, goodbyes to students… and a heart full of emotions.

I never realized how proud I would be when my former students recieved their graduation certificates and diplomas… there were a thousand things I wanted to say. But you can’t prepare a graduate for all of life in one day, so I kept my conversations brief – and enjoyed the youthful gleam of eagerness that shone in their eyes. They’ve learned so much in their school years, from all of us staff who have intentionally and prayerfully poured into their lives… now their school years are yesterday.

And so is my second year of teaching grade 4.

It’s hard to grasp… It’s been a good year. The class was awesome, just like last year’s class, and I enjoyed teaching them.

But it felt like a long year. Somehow I thought I still had time to teach them, but the days disappeared… and now it’s yesterday.

They’ve learned all they will in grade 4. I’ve taught them all I could while they were “mine.”

I have so many great memories of the time I spent with these children.

The days of the “science class giggles,” when everything was humorous, regardless of what the lesson content was. All those afternoons where I either laughed helplessly with them, or wished they’d get over the funnies so I could actually get through the lesson…

The Monday mornings when I either got to or had to lead singing for 4A and 4B… depending on my own energy and inspiration levels, it was at times a joy, at times a chore.

There were moments of frustration when a student who hadn’t been paying attention needed the concept explained again… and just as many moments of delighted satisfaction when a student’s furrowed, concentrating brow was suddenly eased when their eyes lit up with understanding.

Recess was a big part of the year, because it was a time we shared with the other grade 4 class. So many memories were made with the whole crew together… many soccer games, which included many moments of teachers holding our breath and exhaling in relief when potential injuries were avoided… laughing in amusement at our students’ antics… the time one of my “tough” boys suddenly started singing “Jingle Bells,” and the whole class paused playing to join in until the song was finished… recess was so fun with this class. Sure, there were some squabbles to settle, but that’s just a normal part of children interacting and learning to create good relationships!

There were times I thought the year would last forever… there were also times so golden that I wished it would.

But now all of those moments… are part of yesterday.

The mistakes I made as a teacher cannot be undone, the unfinished lessons can’t be completed – the moments are written into yesterday as they occurred.

But the goals that were achieved, the maturing and growth that occurred, any positive influence made – these also won’t be undone. They are a part of yesterday.

And whether I was ready for it or not, the last day of school is over.

Now all that’s left to do is reflect on the memories, let my heart ache with the goodbyes, and then… begin the process of rejuvenating myself to do it all again next year.

Yesterday is gone.

The tomorrow of the next school term won’t be here until September…

And today is the first day of summer break.

It’s time to Live Today and see what God writes into this chapter!

Lately, words have been inadequate to express all the depth of feeling within me.

And for me, both talkative and a writer, that is one of the worst limitations I can experience.

Sure, I still have heart to heart conversations with my dear people. My journal has not been neglected. But the words I have aren’t sufficient to provide an outlet for everything that’s inside.

So I keep doing my best. I share bits of my heart, to the best of my ability. But I know it’s not an accurate presentation. It’s incomplete. Others can’t feel what my heart feels, so they can only go by what they hear me speak in words.

They respond in true, loving, kindness, and I am grateful for that. But sometimes, because I can’t fully express the depths of my heart, their words don’t match the fulness of the need.

And there are days when my whole heart longs for someone to just “get it!”

Someone to actually fully understand me. Every emotion, every heartcry, and the reason for each one.

I’m extremely thankful and blessed to have those in my life who try. They ask. They patiently listen as I do my best to explain.

But those are the times I realize, I can’t always even understand myself.

That’s why I lack the words to explain, because I can’t figure out my own self at times.

Sound familiar?

I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who has struggled through a season of life with a messy heart.

That’s why I’m sharing this – it’s my prayer that you can be encouraged with the same precious knowledge that I cling to.

There IS a Friend Who knows.

Who gets it, fully.

He doesn’t even need you to explain it to Him in words, though He loves to listen anytime you need Someone to talk to.

He won’t ever accidentally say or do the wrong thing. He knows exactly what your heart needs.

He understands you completely when you’re weary of trying to understand yourself.

So if you’re tired of trying to figure out what you need, just ask Him. He knows. And He promises to provide whatever it is that you need to sustain you in the moment.

You only need to ask Him. He’s got the rest.

This Friend is the only One Who can truly understand your heart… because He made it.

His Name is Jesus.

He’s been through every form of trial we can imagine… your pain is not foreign to Him.

He’s able to understand because He’s walked this road before.

So allow yourself this rest. Stop trying to find another human who “gets it,” or searching for the right words to MAKE them get it.

Jesus gets it.

Jesus gets you.

And He’s got you… safely in His hand.

It was an idyllic day.

Ferns overhead, a tropical plant waving gently…

My hair, just washed, blow-drying in the breeze and bleaching under the brilliant, warm sunshine…

A dream-come-true table and chair set from a yard sale, refurbished from its faded black to a fresh white…

It’s a nearly perfect afternoon, to any casual onlooker.

My heart knows though, that the aura of perfection is only temporal…

Truly, there are little glimpses of Eden to be found in this world, and that setting was liberally sprinkled with them.

God sends us just enough hints of what is to come, to give us strength to keep on walking.

But still, the reality is: we’re not Home yet.

This is not Eden, here with the plants, the sunshine… the tears.

And my heart, my aching, tender heart, pouring itself out through my fingers on the keys.

Because sometimes, words just can’t explain.

I try. I love using words.

I tell God all about it… to the best of my ability… but sometimes, words fail.

They’re not the language of the heart…

And when my heart is crying out to God, words aren’t always enough.

That’s why I’m so grateful that where words fail, music speaks.

And I can let my fingers drift over the keys, capturing the depth, the fullness, the beauty, the richness of everything in my heart.

No sheet music needed. It’s a song I’ll never play exactly this way again. There are no lyrics.

But it holds a raw kind of beauty, because each chord is held in the deepest places of my heart.

It’s my heartsong…

A heartcry…

Which the Father hears as a prayer.