School Makes Me Cry; Chocolate Makes It Better

Pardon me while I get all sappy and sentimental here.

There are days I just really get to missing what use to be.
Some mornings find me homesick and in tears.
That's just the way it is.

Back home, there are a group of women and a few men waking up and preparing to head to one of the greatest places on earth, at least in my opinion. It's a place where my kids spent their elementary years and I poured my heart and soul into; I guess that's why it will always be a part of me. It's a place I miss very, very much.

Yes, it's just a building. I know that.
But, oh, it's the stories behind that building.
That's what makes it great.

The first year on the first day, the ringing of hammers could still be heard throughout the basement of a small church. My chalkboards consisted of three small, different-sized boards put together on the same wall. My class of six (I think) made up the fourth, fifth, and sixth grades. I can still picture those concrete walls, our meager playground, and a whole lot of hope.

Years went by and the foundation for a new building was poured. We wrote scriptures on paper and strategically placed them before that first load of concrete ever went into place. Day by day we watched walls go up, swept away drywall dust, and dreamed of what our new classrooms would look like. My last year there was our first year in the new building. We were so proud, so thankful, so humbled at what the Lord had done.

And that's where my friends are today.

Walking those beautiful halls.
Gathering in a beautiful classroom.
Offering up a beautiful prayer.

Praying for kids, praying for families, praying for patience.

Teaching is an amazing thing.
Friendships are forever.
Remembering makes me cry.

But it's a good cry. My kids are who they are because of those early years. Not only did they witness the foundation of a building going in, but they also received a solid foundation in learning. They are excellent readers and writers, they geniunely care for their fellow classmates, and they know the anguish of living with a teacher.

(That last part was a joke... kind of).

And so life goes on. We never know the twists and turns that are ahead. We never know when we might unexpectedly come across a dead-end. All we can know is that there is ONE who does know the way, if only we have enough sense to let Him lead.

In the meantime, I suppose we should just enjoy the ride (even when that ride refuses to upload pictures). I'll take that as a hint and move on my merry way. Much love to all my LWCA friends (and fond memories of Mrs. Earleen).

For the rest of you, tell a teacher thank you today.
And give her lots of chocolate.