One Foot In Front of the Other

When I was in college, my friend Vicki and I would take time before the fall semester to talk about the upcoming year.  What might happen this year?  Would any of our friends begin dating?  Get engaged? Get married?  Would we learn something new about ourselves, or understand some universal truth more deeply?  What would God have in store for us in the upcoming fall and spring semesters? I've been a teacher for a long time, and my "year" always seems to begin in August when school is back in session.  It is at this time that I wonder:  How will my life change?  What new opportunities will open for me?  What challenges will I face? I've always started a new school year with hope.  I want to do my best for my colleagues and for the students I influence.  Some years are better than others.  But each year, I want to be a better colleague and teacher than the last.  I pray that I can be a blessing. I admit that I am feeling some anxiety as I begin this school year.  

I rediscovered this poem today as I looked for prayers to say for the death of a child.  May God give those of us who have lost our children peace and comfort as we walk this way of grief. God's Lent Child by Edgar Guest "I'll lend you for a little while, a child of mine,"God said. "For you to love the while he lives and mourn for when he's dead. It may be six or seven years, or forty-two or three, But will you, till I call him back, take care of him for me? He'll bring his charms to gladden you and, should his stay be brief, You'll always have his memories as a solace in your grief. I cannot promise he will stay, since all from earth return, But there are lessons taught below I want this child to learn. I've looked this whole world over in my search for teachers true, And from the folk that crowd life's lane, I have chosen you. Now will you give him all your love and not think the labor vain, Nor hate me when I come to take th

We refer to it as "Our Vacation" (in capital letters).  A two week road trip in1992 from St. Louis to California and back.  We'd planned for weeks, looked at maps, and set our route.  Lacy wanted to see where I-70 ended.  We all wanted to see the Grand Canyon, Disneyland, Universal Studios, and Sea World. It was a joyous two weeks.  Even now, we talk about those days.  Lacy never stopped smiling the whole time.  In every picture, a look of pure bliss is on his face. He was able to roam in Arches National Park; he looked down into the Grand Canyon.  Our trip to Disneyland allowed Lacy to see his beloved cartoon characters, and to hug Mickey, Minnie, and Goofy.  At Universal Studios, Lacy met "Doc Brown" from the movie Back to the Future and had a discussion with him about the "flux capacitor." We held starfish in our hands at Sea World, and petted the slick skin of dolphins as they swam by.  Lacy crowed with delight when Shamu splashed water on us

Today, we sold the handicap-accessible van we had bought a couple of years ago.  Kenny and I cleaned it yesterday, removing all the things we'd put in the glove box.  We had two Sharpie pens that we used to mark Lacy's clothing and belongings.  As we cleared the van out, washed out the interior, and folded the extra seat-belt restraints, we were remembering the times we'd used the van, and the mobility it gave us as a family. We sold our van back to the company that we originally bought it from.  It was an easy transaction, and we were soon headed back home.  The owner of the dealership drove us home in the van, and we talked on the way. We explained Huntington's Disease to Jack, and that Lacy had been 37 when he died.  He asked if Lacy was our only child.   "Wow," Jack reacted when we told him yes.  "So this isn't just a change for you guys, it's a whole new life." We've been thinking about how to characterize the differen