It's the World to a Teacher

About a month ago I had a former student come back and visit me at work. She was bubbling over with excitement to tell me that she decided to become a teacher because of me. I joked that I must not have done my job very well. Didn't I make it clear that teaching (at least in the state of Utah) is for chumps?

But in all seriousness, it meant everything to me. When you're a junior high teacher you never get to see how your students turn out. You see them at the most awkward phase of their lives and then let the high school teachers take the glory when they make exciting decisions about college and careers. Much like Jesus and the ten lepers, we rarely get thanked, so it's worth writing about when we do see the results of our efforts.

Today another student stopped by. She's now a junior in high school and just found out she's moving to St. George at the end of the school year. She wanted to say goodbye before she left. She was by far my most talented art student, and she apologetically told me that she's really into the technical side of theater and wants to pursue it instead of visual art. She didn't get it. I don't care what my students do with their lives, I'm just so touched that I meant something to them. That I reached them. That perhaps they'll apply some of the creativity and problem-solving skills they learned in my class to enrich the rest of their lives. I care that she cared enough to say goodbye.

It's so cliche, but the story of the boy on the beach throwing starfish back into the water comes to mind. Someone comes along and looks at all the beached starfish and tells the boy that he'll never make a difference, there are so many and he is just one person. He throws one starfish into the water and says, "I just made a difference to that one." It's gratifying to learn that, indeed, you made a difference to at least one.

Flying High

I had a weak moment and splurged on an aerial hoop. My friend who sells them had a sale and I clicked to buy it before I could even think. But I'm not sorry. I take that as an indication of just how much I want it, and I have the money so debt isn't an issue.

Then I realized that I needed a place to hang the hoop. I'm not allowed to put a bolt in the ceiling or through the supporting beams in the unfinished part of the basement, so I had to buy a rig, too. I'm so excited for them to arrive! I have to hurry and clean my side of the storage room, which is where it's going. Now I can practice at home! Or topless (maybe that'll make David a bit more excited about this purchase.)

Plus, as I look back over the past two and a half years, I've been the happiest when I've been consistently involved in aerial dance. So there, it's not a frivolous impulse buy, it's an investment in my mental health.

Easter Miracles

Easter has always been my favorite holiday. Sure, Christmas is nice, but everyone has a birthday. Only Christ has a resurrection day. This day is the centerpiece of the gospel that I love. Hence, I was terrified of ruining this day for me, for my sweet husband, or for his family.

This morning I arrived at church early to open the library. People came in as usual, including those who were pregnant and had infants. Over the past two days just seeing that was enough to make me cry. But I feel the Lord carrying me through this day. I’m not crying at the sight of families, I’m not torturing myself with thoughts that I’ll never be a mother and I’ll die alone. There’s been no witness that I’ll conceive in this life. No confirmation that I’ll get what I desire so much. But I do have peace.

I’ve been praying that I will accept and rejoice at the Lord’s will. The Lord has shown me such mercy before. He has shown me time and time again that His will is perfect, and that my will isn’t usually what’s best. I’m working on accepting that motherhood in this life may or may not happen. If it doesn’t, then the Lord must have something better in store. And I know that he’ll give me strength and support to make it through. So why should I be sad? Today I’m not, and I’m grateful for this gift, even knowing that it may not last long before I give in to pessimism again.

Our other miracle is that David got a call during church from his doctor. He immediately panicked (as would have I), thinking that it must be serious to get a call on Easter Sunday. It turns out that he was just at the hospital and noticed that the blood results were in. David is NOT diabetic!!! He’s pre-diabetic, but so is most everyone in his family. His overall cholesterol is fine, but his good cholesterol is too low (like mine). Exercise will raise it. His triglycerides are high, too, but this is genetic. Taking more fish oil can help with this. The doctor said it’s very rare for someone David’s weight not to be diabetic and have high cholesterol. This is truly a blessing from the Lord. But we’re not taking it for granted. We’re both continuing to exercise daily and are recommitted to eating well (except for my doses of medicinal chocolate, which stave off depression.)

Sometimes the tomb is empty, and sometimes you simply don't burst into tears. Both are miracles to me, and both have made this Easter amazing!

Art Attack

We went to the art museum today because they had free admission and I actually convinced him to leave work early (with the blessing of his boss, of course.) We had a great time! Then we saw a mom with her two little kids (they were probably about 3 and 6 years old) sitting on the floor in the middle of the gallery. All three were sketching their versions of the paintings in sketchbooks. I was so impressed that the kids were focused and working hard instead of playing or fighting. I was impressed that the mom took her kids to the museum. I was impressed that she sketched right along with them, teaching them her love of art. I wanted to be this mom.

I leaned down and told her that this was the most beautiful thing I'd seen in a long time. Then I hurried out of the gallery as tears filled my eyes, as I wondered if I'd ever get the chance to be that mom.

Tests, tests, and testes

We went through the first round of testing. It was on him because you always test the man first because only three things can go wrong with him. A million things can go wrong for the woman and it's really hard and invasive to test for. Not to mention very expensive and not covered by insurance.) Let's just say the results were not encouraging. There are lifestyle changes that *might* help, and medicine that *could* help if I could convince him to take it, and if those don't work we can choose from more expensive and invasive interventions like artificial insemination. Please, oh, please let me pay hundreds of dollars to have a fancy turkey baster inserted in me!

I'm trying to make peace with this. Maybe it won't happen for us. There are certainly dozens of reasons why we should remain childless. Some days I'm ok with that thought. Other days I have a meltdown and cry myself to sleep. I missed a huge family event last weekend because of a meltdown. I hope I can make it to Easter dinner. I'm afraid that the Easter egg hunt (with David's nieces and nephews) will push me over the edge. I know I could make this easier if I just explained the situation to his family, but I don't want to get *those* looks from them. I don't want anyone asking me how it's going. I don't want anyone looking for a baby bump that may never appear (although the fat is starting to look suspiciously baby-bump-like).

Today it hit me

A few weeks ago I got ready to call in my prescription refill and noticed that my doctor only put in 2 refills instead of three. No worries, I had a month before I'd run out. So I called to schedule an appointment and couldn't get one until two weeks after my pills were due to run out. I can't get a refill without seeing him.

I panicked. It didn't matter with my last medication, but I switched last May. Now if I miss a dose by even a few hours I get dizzy, nauseated, and a major headache comes on. Those are the pleasant symptoms before it gets really bad. So I scheduled an appointment with my other doc, hoping she'd write a one-month prescription to tide me over. Her office called to cancel. Twice. That's what led to me desperately pleading with the receptionist on the phone this morning to understand that I *have* to get a new prescription and I only have six days left and I've already taken two days off work for appointments that have been cancelled, so I can't take off any more and isn't there anything she can do so I don't go into withdrawal???

I got the prescription phoned in, but now I have to deal with the reality that I'm not just someone with a chronic health condition, I'm also a drug addict. It's no better than if I were on heroin. Well, except that insurance doesn't cover heroin.

Playing with Knives

Over Presidents' Day weekend I toyed with the idea of picking up my paintbrushes, but then decided to toss them aside. Instead I grabbed my palette knife and slathered on layers of paint. Ok, the slathering wasn't that thick. I'm on a teacher's budget. But it was a great experience and put me a bit closer to the style I'd like to have. I'm not ready to post a picture, but I'm satisfied with my effort. If I can't create babies, at least I can create art. It's quieter and doesn't poop.