Embrace The Suck

I think by now we all know my computer skills only go so far. I've heard of re-blogging, but I don't know exactly what it is or how to do it. Therefore I'm going to [re]post an article I read on a friend''s Facebook page here, and give the author, Glennon Doyle Melton, all the credit. The title says to share, so that's what I'm doing, cause I really like the message. It fits nicely into my education theme. Please read it, then go to Glennon's Blog and leave her a comment. Share This With All the Schools, Please A few weeks ago, I went into Chase’s class for tutoring. I’d emailed Chase’s teacher one evening and said, “Chase keeps telling me that this stuff you’re sending home is math – but I’m not sure I believe him. Help, please.” She emailed right back and said, “No problem! I can tutor Chase after school anytime.” And I said, “No, not him. Me. He  gets it.   Help me .” And that’s how I ended up standing at a chalkboard in an empty fifth gr

NOt so  much for me, but for a lot of people it's unusually cold. I think the temps dropped below freezing where I am, however, we got no snow, no ice. There was enough rain for the past few days that it could have made for some pretty treacherous driving conditions if it got colder. I saw two stories on tonight's news that knocked me down, then picked me back up. When it gets really cold, there are always stories of space heaters starting a fire. A Kentucky mother and 8 of her 9 children perished in this kind of fire. Her husband and one child made it out but are in pretty bad condition.  I hate space heaters. I hate that for some that's all the heat they have. My friend Mary, has an ancient (by my standards) space heater on the floor next to the TV watching chair in her bedroom. It scares me just to look at it. In order to warm up the bathroom before she showers, I have to move the heater from near the chair to near the toilet, turn it up high and close the door. I know

January 23 70 years ago my ex-husband and good friend, Jim was born. 3 years ago my father died. Jim and I had our ups and downs. It took a few years after our divorce to rebuild bridges we'd torched when we separated. I can't even tell you how it happened. I just know today, I'm glad for the years we spent together. I'm happy for the memories we share. I'm smarter for the hard times and blessed for the good ones. My psychiatrist says I have an abnormal "attachment" to Jim. Sweetie doesn't understand it. Jim's wife is not sure she likes it. Maybe it is a little weird, but our kids are pleased that there is no longer tension between us. All's well that ends well.  My daughter worked really hard over the past few weeks collecting pictures and memories from people her knew her dad. She put it all together in a Shutterfly Photo Book. I haven't seen the book, but I think it's going to be a fun read. Weneki is pretty good at putting t

After reading I Am Malala (see post below) I decided I want to write some posts on education. Mostly about how kids all over the world struggle for, and put their lives on the line for the opportunity to get an education. Realizing this is a gross generalization, I find it hard to compare Malala's desire to go to school against all odds, Syrian refugee children who have no schools, and girls in Africa who often drop out of school when they begin menstruating because of all the taboos, with the stories Sweetie tells me of the children in the schools he visits who are so emotionally damaged that getting an education is pretty low on their priority list. When I was in school, being sent to the Principal's office was about the worst thing that could happen to a kid. Memories of the paddle on the dean's desk in Jr. high still gives me shivers. Today, schools have locked rooms where children go for "time out," which really means where they can go to scream, bang their

“Courage is an inner resolution to go forward despite obstacles; Cowardice is submissive surrender to circumstances. Courage breeds creativity; Cowardice represses fear and is mastered by it. Cowardice asks the question, is it safe? Expediency ask the question, is it politic? Vanity asks the question, is it popular? But conscience ask the question, is it right?  And there comes a time when we must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but one must take it because it is right.” Martin Luther King To say Martin Luther King was courageous, would be an understatement. Today as the country celebrates the man and his dream, it's impossible for me to think about the fight for Civil Rights, without thinking of the courage it took for each and every one of those dreamers and fighters.  I was too young to be involved. But I wasn't so young that I didn't feel  the "White" and "Colored" signs on separate bathro

I think I'm bored with my blog. Maybe that's why I don't come here to write as often as I once did. My blogoversary went by un-noticed. I don't feel as wordy as I once did (although you wouldn't know that by my run-on sentences and writing 2 or 3 paragraphs when one would suffice. I wonder what I can do to spice things up? Got any suggestions? That said, I'm trying to put into practice "allowing 2014 to unfold as it will." I guess we'll have to see what happens. Pondering, Merry ME

Back when I was a steady member of a 12-step program, I carried a little blue book in my purse as a reminder of the steps and what I could do to feel better.  It had this quote: “Folks are usually about as happy as they make their minds up to be” ―  Abraham Lincol n which, at the time, really irked me. That was a time in my life when I was severely depression. I felt really, really sad most of the time. In my last post I said living with grief feel like carrying around a sack of rocks. Depression feels likes that too, except maybe worse, if that's even possible. Like the commercials say, depression hurts. It hurts in your bones, your heart, and your soul. Depression lies. It makes you believe things about yourself that are not true. And depression hangs on like the last person at a party, long after everyone else is gone and all you want to do is clean up and go to bed. But you look around and there is depression sitting on the couch. You feel like moving, but your legs

... and so the new year begins. I'd like to write with more intention, here on this blog, in a journal, for my group and perhaps for publication. I've sort of gotten out of the habit. Plus, when I sit down to write, it turns into an on-going, many times interrupted process - like my last post of 2013. I think I should do more writing and less self-editing, at least til the thoughts swirling around in my head are wrestled to the page. Now, clearly is not the time to start. I have a plethora of things to do - finish making some bears, start making some others, fold the laundry, address Christmas cards. But here's the thought I had as I started to write. On the 23rd of this month my father will have been dead for 3 years. And Texas Jimmy, another man who played a very important part in my life, will turn 70. For one I still grieve, the other I celebrate and rejoice. As I sit here thinking about both these men, listening to my Sweetie talk about my new spy-size camera, tea