It is a Sunday morning, and I awoke early. Sleep has been hard as thoughts of all I need to do are unrelenting. Jeffrey has been in Atlanta for the past few days. So after dinner and a movie (which I ended up sleeping through) with my daughters, Maggie and Elsie Jane both requested sleeping in my room with me. Now, Elsie has stirred enough that she is leaving her spot on the floor -- two sweet, peaceful, little girls sleeping in my bed while I take a moment to sit in this chair in the morning hours and consider all I am feeling and all that lies ahead in the coming week.
In just one week, Wasatch Waldorf Charter School will open for the first time. It is hard for me to even comprehend that this is real. I am so caught up in the logistical coordination, that at times, I cannot even take in what is happening.
I am terrified - of making a mistake, not doing something essential, handling a situation badly, not being prepared and ready in time for the first day, something going wrong, never being able to find balance again in my life.
I am overwhelmed - the work is never-ending. My to-do list gets longer, not shorter. I look around me and see progress, but I there is still so very much that needs to happen to reach completion.
I am guilty - about all the things that I am not doing: spending more one on one time with my girls, being present with my daughters, fixing meals at home, exercising, studying and meditating. So many thing that I know make a difference in my life and my soul, but that are a real struggle right now.
I am tired - depleting my reserves which concerns me, because I know that I will need on-going strength, not just strength for the next week. Hardly a moment when I am not at work.
I am amazed - in awe of what is happening, astounded at the beauty of the place, the building, the people, this monumental moment. There were hundreds of excited, amazing families that filled the park on Friday night to meet their teachers. It was a powerful sight -- the genesis of true community.
I am humbled - overwhelmed with the quality of people that surround me, their commitment, their experience, their dedication and work, their courage. I have no right to be a leader in this context, all I have to truly give is my absolute commitment to giving my all, seeking inspiration and balancing the needs of individuals with the needs of the whole, no other true qualifications. I hope it is enough.
I am excited - so much anticipation about what may come. I cannot wait to see children in classrooms, learning and experiencing what it is to be in a Waldorf school for the first time; teachers learning their craft and hitting their stride; a community that figures out how to creatively meet the needs of varied individuals and families; class plays and festivals, pedagogical meetings, celebrations, and even defeats that we experience together. I am excited about the coming ride.
I am hopeful - that we can do it well, even better than what I have seen and experienced elsewhere. That this school can run with integrity, where we genuinely love and respect one another as a faculty and staff, as parents and community, and as students. That we can balance self-care and personal lives with our commitment to grow and bring the best to the children. That what is created can be a model of the best of Waldorf education and the best of a public charter school education.
I am inspired - by the sacrifices that families, teachers, staff, and children are making to be a part of this community. So much giving and risk taking. So many open hearts and open arms.
I am sustained - by a strength and capacity that is far beyond my own. None of what has come to be is about me. I have given my best, but I am a weak, inexperienced human who is just taking one step after another into the darkness. I am given a gift of grace each day to keep walking, to keep working, to determine what is most essential in that day -- and I do not know that I always get it right -- but, enough of it has been right to get me to this moment: one week until school opens and everything is coming together. Definitely because of a spiritual power beyond me.
I am seeking - continued inspiration, self growth and evolution, a new way of living and being that brings me into greater harmony with God and the source of love and truth, with the community that is forming around me, with my children and my family, and with myself.
I am me - this mess of so many feelings, each welling up at a different moment amid the endless tirade of all that I still need to do that nags at every corner of my brain lately.
I do not know how we are going to finish training and building a shared picture of our community as a faculty and staff, get the school organized, finished and cleaned, prepare for a momentous first day, and be present in it. But, that is okay. I never knew how I was going to get to this point either. I suppose I will just have to trust in the same process: wake up, greet the morning, get out of bed, and start putting one foot in front of the other, each moment praying for the strength, wisdom, and love to do it well.
Sunday, August 21, 2016
Sunday, August 7, 2016
Illuminations
The way sunlight pours in through the large back windows of our new home fills my soul. If I awake early enough, I can lay in bed while the mountains are still dark gray, the world is still sleepy and the sun is just beginning to enliven the sky. The clouds will begin to glow a vermillion hue, light will creep into the sky, and the sun will rise over Mount Olympus.
Mornings like this create fertile soil for reflection. And, lately my mind has been full of how subtly and quickly my life has shifted, like the sky from gray to warm to blue.
Last week, I found a note from 10 years ago, before our move to Virginia listing what I was seeking in my life. It is astonishing to think of how true the sentiments still are.
On the list:
- A job for Jeffrey (that he enjoys, has a more predictable and open schedule, makes plenty of money)
- A home (plenty of room for our family to grow, finished where we can stay put, room to entertain, a yard)
- Financial improvement (be in the right place we want to live, paying off debt, able to save money)
- Good schools and friends and community for my girls
- A place I feel grounded (to discover and pursue my interests and desires, to feel like I am contributing what I am meant to do)
- Connection to and a means to serve God (greater avenues in life to acknowledge the spiritual and give back to others)
That list led to moving away from Utah to Virginia, seeking to get closer to a situation where we could find those circumstances. Then the same seeking took us to Boise. Three years ago our family took a great leap of faith in seeking and left our very small, simple, secure life in Boise to return to Utah.
The nearly two years we spent in Boise feel a bit like a pause in the story of our lives. A time of cloudy thoughts, few actions, and very simple living. Jeffrey was employed by USDA and worked from home; we had a small, simple place to live in a neighborhood that was also small and simple; we made friends, rode bikes, swam in the pool; the girls went to school and I tended to our home life, fixing up the house and being a mom. Life was just fine, but that was it -- fine. Under the surface something was stirring, deeper desires, longings for a more purposeful, intentional, permanent way of being.
So, we quit the reliable job for Jeffrey to buy his own business, still seeking and throwing everything into flux. No where to live; homeschooling the girls; uncertain if any of it would work out.
That was three years ago. The beginning of many transitions: renting a home in Salt Lake, buying it, planning to remodel it; homeschool, public school, private school; buying and selling assisted living homes, figuring out the basics of business management; training in Waldorf education, writing a charter application for a new school, finishing my masters degree.
So much constant change, and under it all a yearning to put down some roots, to plant ourselves in a place and a life as individuals and as a family.
Which bring me to today. A time that is all about settling in, but not without its challenges as well.
In January, we moved into a new home in Holladay. Our first truly new home. I have been through every item we own and discarded all that did not truly spark something for me. I have organized and sorted. I have not sewed or painted as I always have in the past -- I have had to turn those tasks over to others. But, I have thoughtfully begun to create a more permanent home. In the next two months, we will finish our back yard and a few last items inside, and our home will be completed. Even more, as a family, we sense that we are settling in. We are happy to spend evenings and days here hanging out together; we breathe a sigh of relief when we return from our travels to this place. We miss our walkable Salt Lake neighborhood, but here we have a place of completion, of order, of potential, and we are finding home.
This week I will also move in to my first real office (a place to work besides the bedroom and living room). It is located in a brand new school building that is scheduled to be completed just in time for staff to show up for "back" to school trainings. "Back" because that is what you say, but the truth is that it is all new. This school I am building is a great unknown. The work load has gradually increased over the last three years. It has gone from a small very informal group of well-intentioned individuals to a functional Governing Board, fully hired staff, and hundreds of children enrolled. It has gotten really real, really fast.
I feel much like I did right before getting married or having my first baby. Lots of thought and planning and anticipation and excitement, and even stress and uncertainty -- extremely busy -- as I look forward to the moment when something new will be born. Great anticipation. After the marriage or birth, there is the wholly new life which has been created. The day to day reality of how to be a wife or a mother. What does that look and feel like? Who am I and where is the essence of "I" within this new role and radically changed life?
And, so, I look forward to the beginning of school with such a mix of feelings. Excitement and gratitude. Great anticipation for what it will mean for my children to attend there and for my family to be nested within a Waldorf community. But, also a realization that my way of living and being is fundamentally changing. What is the day to day reality of being an Executive Director and a wife and mother?
Jeffrey and I are figuring out how to manage a family with two working parents. Who cleans the house? Does the laundry? Fixes dinner? He will take the girls to school each day and pick up twice a week -- except when he is out of town and Ellie (who lives in our basement) will be on duty. I will do after school the other days and drive to varied activities. I will buy groceries, and we will split up dinner prep. Norma (the wonderful person we have hired) will clean the house, and everyone will pitch in. It is such a different family life that what either of us knew as children. So much more give and take. Cooperation. Shared responsibilities. It is both overwhelming and refreshing.
Not only is family life shifting, but my personal landscape as well. I have to be at work early every day. And, I have never been a morning person. Never mastered a schedule. Ever. In my whole life!
But, my sanity, my work, my sense of balance now rely on me being able to have amore regular routine. And, into that daily life infuse self-care, time for me to move, to breathe, to feel, to relax. All of this is terrifying. Yet, this balance of home and family, of personal care and work, are also about settling in. I long to discard all that is excess and meaningless, get some help, and create a life and a pattern of living for myself and my family that feels as lovely and supportive and workable as our physical home.
Jeffrey continues to find his way in his business. Building a new facility in Cedar City and finishing remodeling projects, figuring out staffing and administrative responsibilities, and likewise, determining how he will care for himself, grow personally, and find deep meaning. He has been successful and has tapped new skills and abilities. But, there is still much to figure out about what will unfold professionally in the future.
And, under it all runs the deepest current, the inner landscape of our connection to spirit. The constant, visceral searching and seeking for God. The need to know and be known. The longing to purify, to discard and let go. And, the desire to compose a purposeful, inspired life. This is not an area that has settled, rather it is as though after having walked along, thinking we knew the terrain, the sun rose and the landscape turned from simple shades of gray into a colorful vista with nuance and complexity that had previously been obscured. It is a space that is richer and fuller than what had been visible before, and yet less direct and known and smooth.
And, so, ten years later I am still seeking, but seeking in a place with more light. I have more sense of where I am and what I am becoming.
And yet I have none, for each day is all new and the life that is unfolding right before me is unchartered territory.
It is exhilarating and frightening, entirely breathtaking and incredibly humbling. It brings to light my inadequacy and fear, my power and faith. It calls for something new to be born in me each day. And since being born-again daily is the essence of truly human experience -- I think perhaps I may be on the right track.
Mornings like this create fertile soil for reflection. And, lately my mind has been full of how subtly and quickly my life has shifted, like the sky from gray to warm to blue.
Last week, I found a note from 10 years ago, before our move to Virginia listing what I was seeking in my life. It is astonishing to think of how true the sentiments still are.
On the list:
- A job for Jeffrey (that he enjoys, has a more predictable and open schedule, makes plenty of money)
- A home (plenty of room for our family to grow, finished where we can stay put, room to entertain, a yard)
- Financial improvement (be in the right place we want to live, paying off debt, able to save money)
- Good schools and friends and community for my girls
- A place I feel grounded (to discover and pursue my interests and desires, to feel like I am contributing what I am meant to do)
- Connection to and a means to serve God (greater avenues in life to acknowledge the spiritual and give back to others)
That list led to moving away from Utah to Virginia, seeking to get closer to a situation where we could find those circumstances. Then the same seeking took us to Boise. Three years ago our family took a great leap of faith in seeking and left our very small, simple, secure life in Boise to return to Utah.
The nearly two years we spent in Boise feel a bit like a pause in the story of our lives. A time of cloudy thoughts, few actions, and very simple living. Jeffrey was employed by USDA and worked from home; we had a small, simple place to live in a neighborhood that was also small and simple; we made friends, rode bikes, swam in the pool; the girls went to school and I tended to our home life, fixing up the house and being a mom. Life was just fine, but that was it -- fine. Under the surface something was stirring, deeper desires, longings for a more purposeful, intentional, permanent way of being.
So, we quit the reliable job for Jeffrey to buy his own business, still seeking and throwing everything into flux. No where to live; homeschooling the girls; uncertain if any of it would work out.
That was three years ago. The beginning of many transitions: renting a home in Salt Lake, buying it, planning to remodel it; homeschool, public school, private school; buying and selling assisted living homes, figuring out the basics of business management; training in Waldorf education, writing a charter application for a new school, finishing my masters degree.
So much constant change, and under it all a yearning to put down some roots, to plant ourselves in a place and a life as individuals and as a family.
Which bring me to today. A time that is all about settling in, but not without its challenges as well.
In January, we moved into a new home in Holladay. Our first truly new home. I have been through every item we own and discarded all that did not truly spark something for me. I have organized and sorted. I have not sewed or painted as I always have in the past -- I have had to turn those tasks over to others. But, I have thoughtfully begun to create a more permanent home. In the next two months, we will finish our back yard and a few last items inside, and our home will be completed. Even more, as a family, we sense that we are settling in. We are happy to spend evenings and days here hanging out together; we breathe a sigh of relief when we return from our travels to this place. We miss our walkable Salt Lake neighborhood, but here we have a place of completion, of order, of potential, and we are finding home.
This week I will also move in to my first real office (a place to work besides the bedroom and living room). It is located in a brand new school building that is scheduled to be completed just in time for staff to show up for "back" to school trainings. "Back" because that is what you say, but the truth is that it is all new. This school I am building is a great unknown. The work load has gradually increased over the last three years. It has gone from a small very informal group of well-intentioned individuals to a functional Governing Board, fully hired staff, and hundreds of children enrolled. It has gotten really real, really fast.
I feel much like I did right before getting married or having my first baby. Lots of thought and planning and anticipation and excitement, and even stress and uncertainty -- extremely busy -- as I look forward to the moment when something new will be born. Great anticipation. After the marriage or birth, there is the wholly new life which has been created. The day to day reality of how to be a wife or a mother. What does that look and feel like? Who am I and where is the essence of "I" within this new role and radically changed life?
And, so, I look forward to the beginning of school with such a mix of feelings. Excitement and gratitude. Great anticipation for what it will mean for my children to attend there and for my family to be nested within a Waldorf community. But, also a realization that my way of living and being is fundamentally changing. What is the day to day reality of being an Executive Director and a wife and mother?
Jeffrey and I are figuring out how to manage a family with two working parents. Who cleans the house? Does the laundry? Fixes dinner? He will take the girls to school each day and pick up twice a week -- except when he is out of town and Ellie (who lives in our basement) will be on duty. I will do after school the other days and drive to varied activities. I will buy groceries, and we will split up dinner prep. Norma (the wonderful person we have hired) will clean the house, and everyone will pitch in. It is such a different family life that what either of us knew as children. So much more give and take. Cooperation. Shared responsibilities. It is both overwhelming and refreshing.
Not only is family life shifting, but my personal landscape as well. I have to be at work early every day. And, I have never been a morning person. Never mastered a schedule. Ever. In my whole life!
But, my sanity, my work, my sense of balance now rely on me being able to have amore regular routine. And, into that daily life infuse self-care, time for me to move, to breathe, to feel, to relax. All of this is terrifying. Yet, this balance of home and family, of personal care and work, are also about settling in. I long to discard all that is excess and meaningless, get some help, and create a life and a pattern of living for myself and my family that feels as lovely and supportive and workable as our physical home.
Jeffrey continues to find his way in his business. Building a new facility in Cedar City and finishing remodeling projects, figuring out staffing and administrative responsibilities, and likewise, determining how he will care for himself, grow personally, and find deep meaning. He has been successful and has tapped new skills and abilities. But, there is still much to figure out about what will unfold professionally in the future.
And, under it all runs the deepest current, the inner landscape of our connection to spirit. The constant, visceral searching and seeking for God. The need to know and be known. The longing to purify, to discard and let go. And, the desire to compose a purposeful, inspired life. This is not an area that has settled, rather it is as though after having walked along, thinking we knew the terrain, the sun rose and the landscape turned from simple shades of gray into a colorful vista with nuance and complexity that had previously been obscured. It is a space that is richer and fuller than what had been visible before, and yet less direct and known and smooth.
And, so, ten years later I am still seeking, but seeking in a place with more light. I have more sense of where I am and what I am becoming.
And yet I have none, for each day is all new and the life that is unfolding right before me is unchartered territory.
It is exhilarating and frightening, entirely breathtaking and incredibly humbling. It brings to light my inadequacy and fear, my power and faith. It calls for something new to be born in me each day. And since being born-again daily is the essence of truly human experience -- I think perhaps I may be on the right track.
Coming Back
I found myself considering the approaching changes in my life and thinking that perhaps I should chronicle this next year.
"Perhaps," I thought, "I should a new blog: one about the first year in a Waldorf School and balancing work and motherhood and all that is emerging in my life." It seemed a good plan - a way to document all that is unfolding for me and my family.
But, I am not sure that anyone much would care to read it. I am not really sure what information it would contain or how relevant any of it would be.
All I am really looking to do is create an outlet. A place to record experiences and ideas and thoughts and maybe even insights, if they come.
To sit at the end of a day or a week and observe the rhythmic tide of my mind and emotions. To look for the moment that stood out for good or bad or ugly or lovely, the gem that has washed up and remains on the sands of my mind and to pick it up gently, to hold it for a moment, turn it over a bit in my hand, inspect it, consider the wonder of it, and then set it down again and let it go.
And for that, I do not need a new venue. This one will do perfectly well.
"Perhaps," I thought, "I should a new blog: one about the first year in a Waldorf School and balancing work and motherhood and all that is emerging in my life." It seemed a good plan - a way to document all that is unfolding for me and my family.
But, I am not sure that anyone much would care to read it. I am not really sure what information it would contain or how relevant any of it would be.
All I am really looking to do is create an outlet. A place to record experiences and ideas and thoughts and maybe even insights, if they come.
To sit at the end of a day or a week and observe the rhythmic tide of my mind and emotions. To look for the moment that stood out for good or bad or ugly or lovely, the gem that has washed up and remains on the sands of my mind and to pick it up gently, to hold it for a moment, turn it over a bit in my hand, inspect it, consider the wonder of it, and then set it down again and let it go.
And for that, I do not need a new venue. This one will do perfectly well.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)