reflections on one year.

I meant to sit down (probably wearing sweats and drinking tea) and reflect. I meant to take time to really think about it. I meant to dwell on it a bit. I meant to make something significant of the fact that I moved one year ago.

But then...life got in the way.

And I guess, in a way, that's the most poignant reflection of all. I have a life to get in the way of sitting and reflecting on the many ways things have changed during the past year. I no longer spend my time counting the days. I no longer spend my weekends wishing I was in Santa Barbara. I no longer wonder if I made the right decision in moving back to the home front. I'm here and life is here and I am happily living the day to day.

Yes...it has been a year. And when I think back, I remember that a year ago right now I was probably laying in the fetal position on my parents' guest bed crying myself to sleep. I remember how miserable I was...that I couldn't shake off the cover of melancholy and that simply getting up and out of bed was a chore. But more than that, I remember the way that the sun sprinkling through the autumn leaves awoke a little piece of my heart. And I remember the way that I quickly grew used to seeing my best friend every couple of weeks and how wonderful it felt to be able to share my daily life with my parents again instead of simply sharing it all via bi-weekly phone calls. And I remember the first time I stood outside in the silence of the falling snow and reminded myself just how much I love winter. And then, slowly but surely, my heart was whole again and I was happy again and my life was mine again and I was a stronger and more confident and more complete person. And I remember how I woke up one morning with the sun shining in my window and snow sparkling on the ground and I realized that I was happy.

So there it is - my reflections on one year. And while I sit here listening to Alexi Murdoch, just as I did almost exactly one year ago, I can truly say that even breathing feels alright.

ramblings on wind. and trees. and the state of my soul.

It's another beautiful Sunday (although a little bit hotter than I would prefer) and I am once again sitting on the back porch at my parents' house enjoying the breeze, some iced tea, and the company of my dog.

(I love the sound of wind blowing through the trees...it reminds me of camping and my mountain upbringing and moments of spiritual clarity.)

Right now the trees are telling me to stop worrying about my future and to stop trying to plan everything and to just be. To be content. To lean my head back in this most comfortable lawn chair and watch the clouds float by in the endless blue sky.

Did you know that in Hebrew, the word for "wind" is the same as the word for "Spirit"?

Today, the wind is gentle and calming.

And today, my soul feels calm.

finding perfection in the imperfect.

I'm sitting on my perfect back porch in the perfect evening sunlight in the perfect Colorado autumn weather with my (sometimes...okay, rarely) perfect pooch sitting by my side. In this moment, my life is, well....perfect.

There is a lot that is not perfect about my job, but since my day has been so wonderful and the sun is shining so beautifully right now, I'm going to take this opportunity to document the good things about my job and save them for a day when things are not looking quite so bright.

I walk in the door of my classroom every day to be greeted by bunches of beautiful (sometimes messy), smiling faces. I enter to squeals and shouts of "Miss Kelsey!!!!" and "I missed you!" and "look at my new pink cowboy boots...do you love them!?" Every day I am welcomed as if I were returning from a year long absence, not one of only a few hours.

I get to spend every day teaching these wonderful children things about the world. Yes, I get to teach them things like how to write their names and the seven days of the week and that there are twelve months every year. But I also get to teach them to treat their friends with kindness and that smiling gets you much further than whining and that if you share your lion toy with someone today, then they will surely share their elephant with you tomorrow. I get to see their little minds process the world around them and begin to understand things...that the leaves turn yellow in the autumn and that flowers come up in the spring. To understand that their mothers' name is not actually "mommy" but that's what we call them because they are our mothers. To understand that they are responsible for their own actions. And most of all, I get to see them come to realize that they are special, unique, and very loved.

Today I spent the afternoon in the beautiful Colorado sunshine while two little ones "painted" my hair and "decorated" it for me. I watched another one conquer his fear of the big slide and then proceed to go down it repeatedly for an hour. I talked with a child about his mommy and daddy and his sister and heard all the details of his soccer team and his favorite movies.

I have been given the honor of becoming a part of each child's life.

There is much that is wrong with the place that I work. And I will continue to search for new jobs. But until I find one, I can return here - to this place and this feeling - and know that I will survive. I will survive because of the smiling faces that will greet me tomorrow with every bit as much joy and excitement (and just as many hugs) as they did today and the day before that.

And that joy is enough to get me through even the longest of days.