June 10, 1989, St. Patrick’s Catholic Church, Port Sulphur, LA, processing out as husband and wife!
- Thirty years.
- One husband, one wife.
- Two years dating, five months engaged.
- Two c-sections.
- One back surgery, one ankle surgery- her.
- One neck surgery – him.
- Two daughters.
- Two baptisms, two confirmations.
- Countless stage performances.
- Seven nephews, two nieces.
- One state, two countries.
- Two rental apartments, one rental home.
- One overseas move, one embassy home.
- Countries visited together – eight.
- Two homes purchased.
- Three cats, one dog.
- Ten cars.
- One home daycare, one preschool.
- Two elementary schools, two middle schools.
- Two college, one grad school graduation.
- One cross-country move – daughter #2.
- Loss of three parents.
- Loss of three brothers – him.
- Five presidents.
- One international terrorism event – 9/11.
- Domestic terrorism events – too many.
- One career – him.
- Three careers – her.
- Two hearts, two souls.
- One lifetime together, thirty years.
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Today, Friday, May 10, 2019, I am currently propped up in a recliner in my den, watching BBC America and writing on my laptop. My left leg is jacked up on multiple pillows on the recliner extension, draped in a blanket. I am surrounded by tray tables, pillows, and the minutiae of a normal life: phone, water bottle, remote, book, knitting bag, Kindle, tissues, etc. One table is tangled up in the charging cords of the devices that surround me, the hardware that is helping me pass the time as I wait. On Monday I go in for surgery on my broken left ankle and to have hardware installed, the kind that doesn’t come with apps.
After my nap, I came out to the living room and my dog, my adorable little 16-pound Maltipoo Puccini, was running around playing. He stopped short in front of me in that cute little stance, like he wanted me to chase him. I turned, and took one step to make the same sort of short stop to him, and BOOM–I tripped on the rug and fell flat on my back, banging my head on the floor hard enough to cause it to bleed (a little) and swell up (a lot) into an egg on the back of my head. While that hurt, the real pain scorching through my body was my left leg, from the knee down. So much so that I couldn’t get up.
Crutches and realization that you are not as strong as you thought you were: check. In and out of the car multiple times for pre-op appointments and tests and the incumbent fear of something else being found wrong with you in those pre-op tests: check. Watching the clock for the next dose of Tylenol because that’s all you can take until the surgery (thank you opioid crisis): check. Mind-numbing boredom because you can’t focus on reading or knitting or much of anything: check. Stress over not being able to finish the school year and leaving it all to subs to cover for you: check. Anxiety and fear over impending surgery and doctors’ bills: check. Hotel reservations in Hawaii being canceled: check.
I’m a Libra, so it is no surprise to me that along with the aforementioned downs, there have been some really brilliant ups. Friends calling and texting. Commiserations on Facebook. A friend dropping off food. A neighbor walking my dog. My daughters checking in daily from afar. Flowers from a teacher colleague. 
Other teachers helping me out at school with making copies and helping my subs. Getting the hang of the crutches and the knee scooter, my best friend for the next ten weeks.
And having two beautiful, brilliant, talented daughters with him. And surviving loss of family members and friends. And living overseas for two years. And being empty-nesters on and off. I told the pre-op nurse yesterday that he is my rock…and that is a gross understatement.
So, we are in the final countdown. Finish today and Monday, make it through “circus day” (no, really, a circus is coming to my school) on Tuesday, and half-day on Wednesday…and then, EASTER BREAK. As a full-time teacher, I am 100% qualified to tell you who looks forward to school breaks more, students or teachers: TEACHERS. I had a terrible cold/virus/ickiness over Christmas break and I lost the second week of freedom from grading and lesson planning, so I NEED THIS BREAK. I want to sleep in, read for hours at a time, cook a big meal for my family, organize my spring/summer clothes, see a movie, spend quality time with my husband, take long walks with my dog, do some writing, and so much more over the 7-1/2 school days I have off.
But, and this is a big one, this year Easter Break is really more about the culmination of my Lent. I went BIG this year. I gave up, I gave in, and I gave more.
First, the giving up. I gave up Facebook and diet soda. Giving up Facebook was like having a paper cut. Periodically through the day, I felt it, but I could easily forget it. Slap a band-aid on it and keep going. After deleting the app from my phone, I really didn’t think too much about Facebook. I don’t think I’ll put the app back on my phone after Lent. I’ll still check Facebook periodically from my laptop, but I’m not going to be on it from my phone.
The diet soda was a whole other thing, though. A few years ago, when I had a health scare, I gave up diet soda altogether. I ordered iced tea (or an adult beverage) in restaurants, or I just drank water. I get my caffeine intake from coffee in the morning and I have hot tea periodically throughout the day, so I never depended on diet soda for the jolt to get going. But, two years ago I changed schools and my current school has a vending machine in the faculty room. Guess who fell right back into the habit of having a Diet Coke or a Diet Dr. Pepper with lunch? Yep, just like falling off a horse. Got right back on with no difficulties.
I didn’t just want to give up things that aren’t really that good for me, though. So, I re-instituted a religious exercise I used to do before marriage and kids, going to Mass every day of Lent. So, every school day (except the school days where we had school Mass at 9:00), I have gone to 6:30 AM Mass. My husband and I go to 8:30 Mass on Saturdays. It’s been really hard training myself to get up an hour and a half earlier than on a normal school day. It’s been even harder training myself to go to bed earlier to make up for that.
Most importantly, however, a quiet calm came over me each morning sitting in Mass. I began to view the readings as literature, unfolding a story, one chapter at a time. I’m easily distracted in Sunday Mass, but in a huge church with only 30-40 people spread out in it, I am much less distracted and much more focused on the liturgy. The homilies have been much-needed fuel to help me with the final piece of my Lenten goals: have a more spiritual life. Daily Mass short homilies typically speak only to the liturgy of the word for that Mass, and I come away refreshed and reflective during my short walk to my classroom. It’s sort of like going to a really useful, meaningful professional development workshop: something you can use the very next day in your classroom.
Last weekend, our pastor Fr. Lee said something in his homily that really struck me: “The language of heaven is prayer.” As a language arts teacher, the metaphor of learning a language before traveling to a foreign place was not lost on me. If we, as Christians, are all on our path to heaven, and we’ve never been there before, do we need to learn a foreign language before arriving? Is learning how to pray our instructional course for our journey to heaven?
In a subsequent morning Mass, Fr. Gabriel extended the metaphor. He first spoke of how important a passport is, particularly a US passport when traveling abroad. He said that if we were going to be traveling to another shore, a shore of perfection, we must be sure to have our passports in order. I reflected on his homily on my quick walk next door to school. The travel metaphor is an effective tool for my own Lenten journey.
When I traveled with my parents to Scotland in 2000, where my maternal grandparents were born and raised, I got a passport, made flight reservations, purchased good walking shoes, and chose my weeks’ worth of clothing very carefully. I made sure to pack something wrinkle free and dressier to meet my mother’s extended family. I filled my carry-on with snacks and a book to read on the long plane ride. I brought small hospitality presents to hand out to our hosts.