~miracles never cease to amaze me~

It took my mom an awful long time to get rid of my dad's things after he passed away two weeks before Christmas Day in 1982.  His clothing hung neatly in the closet for many months and as time went by, the dust began to settle upon his shirts and trousers.  Finally one day I said to her that maybe it was time to get rid of them, to clean out the closet and start over.  I figured she would be upset with me, but that was not the case.  Little by little she began to remove them until finally one day I went over and found everything bagged up in black garbage bags ready to be taken out.  

My mom loved my dad very much and she sorely missed him when he was gone.  Holding on to the things that once were his allowed her to have a physical reminder of the man who was the father of her 7 children and her loving husband for 42 years.  

After his death, my mom lived another 25 years on her own.  She continued to grow as a person and evolved into the woman that she was destined to become.  I admired her fortitude, her ability to regroup and start over without him.  In the hours before she died at the nursing home she was living at, I encouraged her to look at my dad's picture and to imagine how glorious it would be to find him in Heaven soon.  I hope she took solace in that knowledge.  

She died in the early morning hours the next day,

I hope I can carry my mother's strength with me today as I re-enter my classroom for the first time since March 13th of this year.  After weeks and weeks of being away from it due to the virus, it is now my appointed time to go in and clean up the room, pack up my things, and say one final "good-bye" to a way of life that has been mine forever.  

I won't lie.
I'm a little scared to go back in on my own today.
Not from the virus but rather from the heartfelt and happy memories that will undoubtedly overcome me.

I've heard it said many times by others that as we return to our classrooms to close them out for the year, it is as if you are returning to a spot where something special has "passed away".  That's totally how I feel about it and if you are a teacher who is reading this, perhaps you feel the same way.  I dread turning the lock to the entry way door, knowing full well that everything has changed.  Once I get inside, the first thing I will be faced with is all of our classwork that still hangs in the hallways from the month of March.  Then I will need to unlock the classroom door and I'm sure that is where it will hit me.  Everything will be just as we left it on that March day.

~frozen in time~

This is tough for me and as I type this message to you all in the early morning hours of 4 a.m.,  I am fully aware of what lies ahead of me.  I've been planning for about a month now as to how I will get in there, get things taken care of, and leave in the safest and most expeditious manner in which I can.  There will be no greetings of "Hello!" or "Good-Bye!".  The virus saw to that.

Yesterday was our final day of continuous learning.  Next week I have some online meetings to attend and then check out at the end of the week.  40 years as an educator comes now to a close.  This year, from start to finish, was way different than I imagined it would be.  In the end, I come away from it with a sense of pride that I stayed the course and never quit.  Not this year or any other.

I'm trying to figure out the route that I will take next and I truly hope it's a road that leads me to doing something that helps others.  With all the life left in me, I intend to give the rest of my days to the service of mankind.

I wouldn't want to leave this earth on my final day having lived any other way.

One of the first things that I did during the initial weeks of our "safer at home" time was to transplant 7 small rose bushes from one flower garden to another here at our house.  They were tiny things that had been hidden amongst the irises in our side yard.  I had never transplanted these type of roses before and I wasn't even sure they would make it.  Wind came to toss them around some days and when that wasn't happening it was colder than normal temperatures that would singe their green leaves.  I didn't give up on them.  Each day I would water them with my special concoction of banana peels and coffee grounds.  Two days ago I noticed something as I was watering this one.  A tiny blossom had arisen from a the emerald green leaves.  A rose that others might have given up on, was surviving and thriving quite well in spite of everything that had been happening in the world around it.  Seeing this miniature blossom gave me hope that the rose bush would make it and equally assured me that I would make it as well.  Miracles never cease to amaze me.