In Gennesaret

Last week was my first week off of school. Yes, I know that’s really early compared to most of the rest of you. Don’t hate me because I have a sweet job. Last week was also the first week in several months that I did NOT drug myself to sleep any night. I decided that, now that I had no place I had to be by a certain time every day, I could afford to risk some sleepless nights in the process of detoxing my body of antidepressants and sleep medication. All to say that REST was a significant theme for my week. And all the more significant after listening (twice) to a podcast my daughter did on the topic. (The “You’re Cool With Me” podcast from FeatherTree Arts. Click here to watch that episode, or check it out wherever YOU listen to podcasts!) So, the question of the day is, what exactly qualifies as “Rest”? I think we would all agree that we require it on a regular basis, but how exactly do we define this thing that we know we need? Is it sleep? Is it merely physical inactivity? Is...

I texted a picture to some friends and asked if they knew what these little white flowers are in my yard. I got a shrug emoji from one. “Weeds?” responded another. And yes, I suppose they qualify as a weed. But then how do we define “weed”? Basically, a weed is a plant growing in our space that we don’t want, right? And I decided I want this one. I sent the picture to the mother of the boy mowing my lawn (he’s too young for a phone, bless him) and said, “This may be weird . . . but I really like these. Can Javie not mow them down this week?” And he honored my request. So, I have a few patches of these little white flowers around the periphery of my backyard – along the fence and by the house. While I was sitting outside reading (which I have more time to do now that school is out and it isn’t raining every day), I realized that they were bringing me joy. So, no, they are no longer a weed in my book. But I still didn’t know what to call them. I am NOT into plants. I mean, I lo...

Last week was one of the best weeks of the year: Teacher Appreciation Week. And y’all, my school does this celebration exceptionally well. Our parents fed us every day we were on campus – breakfast, lunch, and snacks all day. Students brought us gifts and cards with lovely affirming messages. We got to dress down in jeans. Food, words, and comfortable clothing: so many of my love languages happening there. I love my students. Some of them I like more than others, but that’s reality with any group of people you’re with all the time, yes? I really do love each of my students very much. Here is some evidence I have noted lately of spiritual growth in myself: I am not as concerned anymore about whether my students love me . That was a problem when I was teaching right out of college: I wanted to be loved and admired by the kids I taught. It’s to my credit, I suppose, that I don’t think I let that need of mine affect the way I interacted with them (at least not too much). But it prof...

And my butterflies are here! See the pictures? Aren’t my babies pretty? I was planning to set them free this weekend, but it’s been too wet. Maybe later today. They seem anxious to get out and see the world, precious things. I didn’t get to witness the wiggling chrysalises before their emergence this time. Side note: I’ve learned that the scientific term for that emergence is “eclosion”. That's a fun one for a wordie like me.  (Another side note: I have a friend who is inexplicably creeped out by this adventure of mine. She got the heebie jeebies when I used that phrase “wiggling chrysalises” and called me a bug breeder . As if a beautiful butterfly could actually qualify as a bug. And y’all, she’s a scientist, for Pete’s sake. Yeesh . . .) When we did the butterfly thing with my young daughters, we saw a couple chrysalises wiggling. It was a cool thing. I was sorry to have missed that moment this time around. Nevertheless, I did see a couple of the butterflies pretty freshly...