Little house in the sky

Well, we just thought we'd let you know that we finally have a place to move to in June! We got a 1-bedroom, 705 square foot apartment right across from the Pentagon City Metro stop in Arlington, VA. The complex has three tall, square buildings, probably built in the 1970s. They aren't pretty, but they rent in volume, so the prices are a little lower. From the 17th floor of our building, you can probably see the Potomac River and the Washington Monument. We are very relieved. It's been tough to get into this complex. Metro accessible apartments tend to be in high demand, especially ones like this that are relatively inexpensive (believe me, that's in relative terms). David has been calling every morning for over a week, hoping that something would open up. We missed one apartment by 15 minutes, per their rule that the first person to fax in an application gets it. I'm glad we missed that one, though. This apartment is just about everything that I prayed for. It's on the 12th floor, so that means no street noise. It's a little smaller, but that means its on the cheaper end of things, so we can breathe a small sigh of financial relief. And its available right when we wanted to move. We're planning to pack up and head out of Alabama on June 10, and our apartment will be ready for us on June 13th. I'm very thankful for this blessing. We'll be seeing those of you on the east coast really soon.

Bubbles, play dough, and board books...

Hi, everyone. It's been awhile since I've posted, mostly because the last couple of weeks have been full of everyday life, and sometimes I don't think to post then. Now that I'm done with my grad school course work, I'm spending more time working at preschool, and I realized that I hadn't talked much about that on my blog. I'm picking up some subbing work now, and I like the kids and the extra money. =) For the past two years, I have worked at a local Baptist kindergarten as a MDO teacher. That means that I have taught children aged 18 months to two years on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 9:30 a.m. until 1:30 p.m. I have a co-teacher, since all the kids are under 2 when the year starts. This is not, I repeat, is not a daycare. When the local schools are out, we are out as well. Most of the teachers are moms that want to work part time and then pick up their kids from school after 2:00. Many have degrees in elementary education. This job has been great for me for the past couple of years because it has allowed me to work part time and make a little money to pay for school. I went to graduate school at night, so it didn't interfere with that, and I could count on never being called in to work nights or weekends. I've also really enjoyed the mental break from medieval nunneries to blowing bubbles and playing hide and seek. I thought about taking an older class, but with my graduate work, I didn't feel that it would be fair to the older kids for my focus to be divided. MDO requires less planning than 3K and up. The top picture that I've posted is of me with my class this year, and the bottom one is of me with last year's class. Notice the hair change. =) My class day usually goes something like this. The kids show up through car pool around 9:30 a.m. They play until everyone arrives (8 of them on Tues. and 10 on Thursday), and then they help me clean up the toys, and then we play outside. Lunch is at 11:00, and they all eat together at the little round tables in little wooden chairs. No one is strapped in, and they all sit still for about 15-20 minutes. This looks amazing to mothers of children under the age of two, so I like to brag about it. =)Believe me, it takes work at the beginning of the year. Then we have story time, which they love. I have this cool sun hat with big fake flowers on it, and I tell them, "When I put on my story hat, then you go sit on the mat." I do, and they do. It works really well. They will usually sit through 4 or 5 short books. We also play hide and seek with shapes and colors every day. I have different colored shapes that I've cut out of construction paper and laminated, and I hide them around the room, and when they bring them to me, I tell them what they brought me, a purple circle, etc. Every day we have a craft. I really like the crafts. It's a creative outlet for me, and I enjoy being silly and thinking about what I can pull together with pipe cleaners and large buttons. My latest creative triumph was a caterpillar paint stamped with vegetables. I had a potato for the head, and other smaller vegetables for the body segments. I just put on antenna and legs with a marker, and I labeled the segments with a pen. Voila! Fun! I'm just a big kid at heart. I have a butterfly backpack that I bought at Gap for Kids to carry to school. I get compliments on it from the 4-year-olds all the time, so I must be cool. =) After craft time, we do music and movement with a cd and some scarves. Then they "read" books on their own. After that, its time to get ready to go home. I have really enjoyed the kids in my classes these past two years. They have such wonderful, individual personalities. There is always plenty of crying at the beginning of the year, but once we make it past the first month, things get a lot smoother. I enjoy being someone special in each child's life. Some people assume that I wouldn't want to work with young children because of infertility. That is true for a lot of women like me, and I can completely understand it. I guess that I've always enjoyed working with kids, and I don't want infertility to steal that from me. I separate my teaching in my head from time with friends and their children. I don't know how, but it just works that way. When I am with these children, they are "my" children, "my" class. I am not competing with mom for their love and attention. I can't win that competition when she's around, and I shouldn't. But I can be the one that they turn to when they fall down in class. They need me for hugs and comfort then, and I like to be there for them when they need me. It makes their lives easier to see my familiar face every Tuesday and Thursday, and I'm happy about that. When I've had a rough day with infertility, I do my best not to show it to the children, but sometimes then, I am extra thankful for their hugs. Sometimes those hugs from "my" kids are even better than the kind words of a friend. They are bittersweet, but they remind me that this is what I will have one day, somehow, with children that can call me "Mommy," instead of "Miss Ellen." I am thankful for the moms who share their children with me two days a week. They do not know what a gift they have given me in time with their precious little ones. I get to laugh with them. I get to sing silly songs with them. I get to see their faces when they learn new words and sounds. Somtimes, I get to wipe away their tears. If you're a mom with children in MDO or some other children's program, please know that you may be blessing others when you allow them to bless you by giving you a day off. Thank you, moms. Thanks for sharing some of your joy with me.

Our tree

I went up to visit my parents for a long weekend this past weekend. I went up after school on Thursday, and I didn't get back until yesterday afternoon. I grew up on 20 acres of the most beautiful land on all of God's green earth. My parents built on family land next to the old homeplace in the rolling, green hills of the piedmont in North Carolina. The Whitakers have deep roots there. Every season is beautiful at my home, but the place really shows off in the spring. Everything is blooming and deeply and lushly green, and there are butterflies. I like butterflies. It's impossible to describe how lovely it is, so I just won't try.

There is just something about going home for me. When I get off I-40, and I start driving through Kernersville on 150, I can feel my shoulders just start to relax. I roll down the windows and smell the spring, night air of home. It's such a familiar smell, the smell of the land where I was born and raised. It's a smell that's been in my nostrils since before I could speak the word "smell." As I drive, I pass places thick with memories for me. I pass the spot where my brother fell asleep at the wheel and we did a 360 in the middle of the road. I pass the tobacco fields where my 3rd cousin still likes to plow a few rows with his mule team. I pass the houses of neighbors whose sons played PTA basketball with my brother. I pass the school where my father and grandfather went. I remember the familiar smell of warm, sweaty horse, and I can sit on the pasture fence where I sat in the late summer evenings, watching the horses graze as the sun went down. Everywhere I turn, there is memory. This is my home.

I have been a tumbleweed since the day I said "I do," in our backyard under the trees. In 5 years of marriage, I have not lived in any place long enough to feel like I belonged there. Even Alabama, where we have lived for three years, has never been home. I knew about a year after we moved here that we might be leaving. I haven't truly settled in. Home is where you belong to me, where people know you and remember you from when you were a child, where they know your family, where you keep most of your best and worst memories of life. Oak Ridge, NC is the last place that I've had that. It is the only place on earth where I feel myself relax just by setting tire or foot on familiar ground. And I realize how much I miss it whenever I go there and whenever I leave. I am a girl with roots, and it stresses me out more than I think I even realize that I haven't been able to plant them anywhere. It's just plain hard for a girl with roots to wander around with them hanging out, unable to plant them and feel them nourished with good soil and good water.

When I go home and leave again, I realize a little of how Abraham must've felt, leaving his family and friends and everything familiar to follow God's call. If its this hard for me, what must it have been like for him? I know there have to have been days when he just didn't feel like it was worth it. But he pressed on anyway. We have a lot in common, Abraham, Sarah, and I. I'm glad he's a forefather I can relate to.

On this trip to visit my parents, I got a little closer to the soil than I usually do. This time around, my father and I planted a tree together. After my miscarriage, my doctor sent me a booklet on grieving a pregnancy loss. It suggested planting a tree in memory of the child that died, and I thought this was a good idea. Since my home is the one constant piece of soil in my life, I asked Daddy about it, but he forgot to go out and get one. I mentioned it again when I was up in NC, and Dad went out and got me a tree. He picked out a flowering Japanese cherry tree. It is the kind of tree that we had our engagement photo made in, and that is why he picked it. I included a picture of that tree.

Dad decided to plant the young tree in the middle of the field next to the driveway. He said he did this so we could see it first thing when we came to visit. Dad dug the hole, and he showed me how he knocked the soil off the root ball so that the roots could have access to the field soil and water. He filled in the hole, and then we bedded the little tree down with pine straw. That was the hardest part for me. I patted down that pine straw, and the baby's death felt so final to me. I rubbed the tree's leaves between my fingers over and over again. I was amazed at how green and alive they were.

A young tree is so full of life and promise. It is a reminder that life does go on. I didn't get to have a funeral when my baby died. This was better. There is a tree growing in Oak Ridge for my little child, and God gently rocks it to sleep every night with His soft breezes. It will grow and grow, and it will bud and bloom, and hopefully one day I will have children that will climb in its branches. And when they do, I will smile, and I will remember.