I use to say that I was having "one of those days." Lately I feel like it's been "one of those weeks" or "one of those months" or even "one of those years." There's so much to do, so many places to go, people to see, bills to pay, laundry to do, dishes to wash, homework to check, working, volunteering, planning, driving, more driving, and some days even more driving. Being blessed by the ability to do all of these things makes me feel accomplished. That is of course when I actually accomplish any of these things. Do I get credit for driving to the store, even though I've forgotten my list so I have to go back at least two more times? Do I get credit for planning exceptional lessons for my classroom, yet forgetting the supplies at home? Do I get credit for having great ideas, yet no time to actually follow through with ANY of them?! If we credited accomplishments on a severe curve, I'd say that I'm very blessed to be such an accomplished woman.
One thing I enjoy more than anything other is creating. This could be cooking, working on a craft project, home decorations, refinishing furniture, sewing, creating home movies or even more enjoyable, writing. I barely have the stamina most days to get through the day with a smile on my face, love in my heart and kinds words being expressed through my mouth. All of these are done on a minute by minute basis. There's rarely time to sit and ponder. Sit and express. Sit and contemplate. Let's face it, there's rarely time to sit, period. The joy of have three young children is immeasurable, unless you measure it by fatigue. It's not even the physical fatigue that challenges me; it's the mental fatigue of dealing with two three year old (adorable) boys and a quickly maturing (and never wrong) six year old girl that causes my mind to lack the ability to create.
I'm not one to set specific New Year's Resolutions. My resolution each year is to simply be a better person that I was last year. I may find several ways of doing this, but each year I re-evaluate and imagine what would make me happier. Is it losing weight? Is it reconnecting with friends? Is it being a more patient mother and wife? Last year my resolution was not to lose weight, but to gain strength. I felt my body becoming weak with the repetitive movements of my daily life. Hauling laundry up and down the steps, picking up twenty-five pound toddlers, cleaning our 2200 sq ft house. Although I'd like to count these chores as being active, I was lacking strength. I spent the summer and fall at the gym gaining muscle and along with that came another form of strength. Strength to accept that I am doing "enough," being "enough," accomplishing "enough." I can only be the best that I can be. I can not be somebody else, but I can always better myself.
So this year my resolution is to continue my building of strength. I find that I am strongest when I'm able to express my creativity. The satisfaction I feel when completing a project raises my confidence to a point that I feel as though I can succeed in other facets that I may struggle with. One day I'd love to have a career that allowed me to create....and be paid for it! Until then, I shall create in my "spare" time and see where it leads me. Here's to a year of "creativity!"
My first act of creativity is not under the best of circumstances, but has allowed me the opportunity to express the feelings that have surfaced during this time. Last week my grandpa passed away and although we knew his passing was in the near future, the early preparations of dealing with emotions simply can not keep up with the range of feelings that are experienced. Our grandma passed away sixteen years ago, very suddenly and unexpectedly. There was great sorrow, and now sixteen years later as Grandpa joins her, that sorrow is revisited and multiplied. Knowing that they are together now eases the sorrow, yet the feeling of an ultimate finality of a time in our lives that was so joyous and memorable is very sad. For their 50th wedding anniversary, which was six months prior to grandma's passing, I wrote a poem about their house. With eight children, their spouses, twenty-one grandchildren and ultimately great-grandchildren, that house held the makings of who we were. We were a typical family, or so we thought. Learning of others' lives and their childhoods has made us realize that our family was not typical (in a very good way!) and our childhood was extraordinary. I've edited my original poem (goodness, if my students could see my grammar and punctuation!) and I've also added a bit to the end. I hope my family finds that this is a fitting tribute to my grandparents and my friends can imagine the exceptional family my grandparents created in my own words.
Our Grandparents’ House
By Sarah Whitish
November 17, 1997
As
children we did not know, all the memories that would grow
at our grandparents’ house.
Watching
every season pass, and growing up much too fast.
The
garden’s full of many colors; like us, each one different from the others.
In the
house not much changes, people and faces of all ages.
So many
people, so much commotion, so many voices, so much devotion.
Forever
running in the yard, playing hide and seek behind the cars.
Swinging
high to touch the sky, jumping off, ready to fly.
A
favorite memory in heart and mind, is Grandpa and his tractor rides.
Through
the backyard, behind the trees; Grandpa knew we were easy to please.
Around
the house and in the road, wherever he’d drive us, we’d gladly go.
As
seasons change and cold winds blow in, we’re ready for more memories to begin.
A snowy
Christmas day, the ideal dream; in the yard, always a football team.
After
the gifts, every child knows, a ride would be great, sledding in the snow.
So much
food, so little time; Grandpa asking for Kool-Aid or Grandma saying “Water’s
fine.”
We’d
never leave without Grandma’s pickles,
and kept
a look out for Uncle Jim, for he’s known to tickle!
One
thing more before we’d leave, always honking behind the trees.
Grandma’s
cookies, pies, blankets and flowers,
Grandpa’s
shop and overalls, as tall as a tower.
Growing
up could never be better;
We’re
all over the world, yet our grandparents keep us together.
As children
we did not know, all the memories that would grow
at our grandparents’ house.
Our Grandparents’ House
By Sarah Whitish-Smith
January 12, 2015
As the
years pass, we reflect on the time
when
life appeared simple in our growing minds.
A time
to be together, taken for granted,
long
before the cards we’d be handed.
We’ve
grown, moved and lives have changed.
We’ve
spread our wings and priorities were rearranged.
Yet one
was a constant as our lives grew,
the love
for our grandparents always stayed true.
As we’ve
matured, our views have broadened
and become more grateful for them, their love never forgotten.
Their
house was a form of simple matter,
but
magically alive with love when we’d all gather.
For a
structure cannot create love, nor can it create scenes
of joyous celebrations and the making of
dreams.
The creators
of these dreams are looking down from above,
in awe
of us here sharing and spreading their eternal love.
We pray
as our children grow,
may they
also come to know
the
incomparable love we felt at our grandparents’ house.
We were
so blessed by their great house, the house that formed us years ago.
The “house”
was their love and this we now know.
We thank
God for our blessings unveiled at our grandparents’ house.
Beautiful, Sarah!
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