It has been drizzling and misty for days with only a few brief glimpses of the sun.  Then at night, when the sun is down, the fog appears along the mountain roads.  It is thick enough that I cannot use high beams and low beams barely cut through it.  Eerie mist covers everything, creating glowing halos of white that surround street lights as I pass them.   I creep down the road sinking deeper and deeper in the mist the further from town I drive.  It is pea soup.  Trees and fences look like fuzzy sketches.  Street signs are not visible until I am a foot away.  This kind of fog occurs regularly around these curvy corners, but this week it has been worse than usual. Thicker. It is scary to think that it is this difficult to drive on the roads I know so well.  These are my well worn paths of daily life, yet I cannot make out where to turn or how the road bends.  It is as if I am a stranger.  You know how it is when you feel like something is familiar but you can’t quite recall the details?  That is how this feels.  I realize just how much I drive on automatic pilot each day when struggling to find our neighborhood on this damp night. I am concentrating on every little landmark as I move along in the murky haze. A scripture occurs to me inching along my way.  “Now we see dimly as in a mirror; then we will see face to face.  Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” I Cor. 13:12.   

Now I am thinking about how much we really do not know about God.  It is like this thick fog, only we don’t really understand that we are in it.  We are convinced we know how God works and how the world operates because it is familiar to us. Yet, if truth be told honestly, we are aware there is more going on than meets the eye.  Understanding how God functions during times of war is beyond us.  Knowing he is fully aware of all the political ramifications around the world, and even allows them, is too much for our small human brains to comprehend.  I think it is getting foggy in our world…or maybe we are just becoming aware of it.  It is hard to see where we are going as a country, as an economy, as a people. We can make out snippets here and there, but the big picture eludes us like light on a foggy night.  I believe that the fog is going to get thicker before the sun breaks through.  I also believe that God can see clearly, while we cannot.  I may know a few things now but the scripture promises that I shall one day know fully.  The best part of this scripture to me is that last part “even as I am fully known.”  I think every human has the desire to be fully known and loved…to belong.  This scripture promises that one day we will understand, but more importantly we will be known completely for who we are.  On that day, the fog will clear and all will see the Glory of God shining, breaking through the mist.  What a day that will be!

Can I confide in you?  I hate New Year’s Resolutions.  I don’t know if it is because I have always had the weight thing at the top of my list, but somehow it just feels as though I am setting myself up to fail when I put pen to paper.  To me this is a bit odd, because I am by nature a list person.  I wake up in the night with a list of things to do running through my head.  I have been known to write down things I have already done, just so I can experience the satisfaction of crossing them off. I mean things like showering, brushing my teeth and getting dressed.  Think about it, by 6:30 a.m. I have already accomplished three things. (who cares that it is something I do every single day) In some ways, it is simply a mind game that my brain engages in for entertainment. There are times this neurological stimulation feels like a curse as my mind tries to organize details in a way to get everything done in the most efficient manner.  It would make logical sense then, for me to LIKE making a New Years list. 

So why do I despise it so?  I think it is the permanence of it.   Once it is down, my mind will not let me rest until I have at least attempted it.  Not a problem if it is something as simple as brushing my teeth, but losing 100 lbs. is a different story.  Even spiritual goals come up flat, as my brain turns them into performance rituals devoid of life.  After so many years of this kind of failure, is it any wonder I have quit trying?  No, I think that this year, I resolve NOT to make any resolutions. 

This year I am going to take steps towards that to which God has called me.  For me, it is more than semantics…it is walking in what God has given me to do; following my dreams.  After my cancer, I realized that God has given me the ability to write for a purpose, and that I may not have years to put my words on paper.  He convinced me that I have a part of him that no one else has…a personal viewpoint that he has molded and shaped through my life experiences.  No one else can express this part of his heart like I can.  It is his design for my life to reveal his glory to those with whom I come into contact.  In my life, this involves writing what I see and hear.  For years, I have felt the urge to write a book and yet it took the possibility of death to make me act on it.  Why is that?  Why is it that we sell ourselves short which, in turn, denies others the opportunity to witness God’s glory at work through us?  I believe that we do not see ourselves through his eyes.  We think we are ordinary and that we have little to offer.  I never could have dreamed that someone else would want to read anything I had written.  I had journals full of thoughts and ideas that were sitting on a shelf.  God, in his gentle but firm way, confronted me on this. 

“Why do you bottle up what I have given you and keep it to yourself?  Don’t you

know this is what I created you to do?  Don’t you know there is no one else that I have entrusted with this task?  Because of your distinctive passions and interests, your life experiences, and your relationship with me throughout all of it, you are uniquely qualified to display my glory.  When you hold back, you are hindering my glory.  You must trust me on this and step out.”

My heart was grieved at his words to me.  I just kept putting it off.  I am a very busy person and to write takes time and thought.  I can always do it later, once my life has slowed down and the kids are grown.  This is what I told myself to justify not stepping out.  But in reality it was fear that was holding me back.  Fear that I wasn’t good enough or that no one would like my writing.  Fear that I would embarrass myself.

Then God, in his infinite wisdom, granted me time to slow down and a new fear…fear of dying without doing what he called me to do. Fear that what was in my heart to do, my dreams, my words, would go to the grave with me, unspoken, unwritten.  Cancer brings with it the gift of perspective. 

This year I will step out even further.  It may be one step or five…but I will move forward in my writing. This is not a checklist; it is a heart-cry.  My question to you my dear reader is this, what will you step towards this year?  Do you have music in your heart that needs to be played?  A song perhaps, that someone needs to hear?  I am quite sure that there are numerous books to be written.  I cannot tell you the number of times since I wrote my book that someone has told me “I have always wanted to write a book.”  So why my brother, have you not done it?  Sister, what is holding you back?  Your heart is crying out to follow the dreams God himself has put in your heart.  His glory is burning to be expressed.  Are you a teacher that needs to teach?  Are you a musician that needs to sing or an artist that needs to paint?  Maybe a counselor that longs to bring healing to broken hearts?  What is it that stirs your soul? 

One step.  Move one step towards it. Do not make the mistake I did and wait until you think you are dying to step out.  God’s glory resides inside of you, and he has given you a way to communicate it to a dying world.  Lay down your fear and your excuses.  Allow him to breathe life into your dream and then move on it.

I leave you with a story…this Christmas I was with my great aunt Janette.  She had a fever as a child that caused brain damage so she is mentally impaired.  Childlike in every way she is a joy to be with.  She is 4-foot something and stands about chest high. Mostly she is happy.  About everything.  She sees everything very simply and calls it like she sees it.  While you may not think she knows all that is going on around her, there are times she is surprisingly wise.  We were discussing something, I do not remember what exactly.  I think someone said ‘I’ve been meaning to do that’ or something to that effect.  She in her innocent way said, “You’d better do it because it’s later than you think.”  Profound. 

            One step. Follow your heart-cry.  He is waiting…and it’s later than you think.

It occurred to me this past weekend that Christmas is about celebrating common bonds with family.  You know me, I am always making connections in my head, so as I sat around at mom’s this weekend I was watching and listening.  I was thinking how different we have all become.  I mean my siblings and I grew up in the same house, and had basically the same experiences and yet, we are so different.  We have different interests, different careers and different passions.  God gave them to us, by the way. The grandkids are even more varied and I bet this is true in most households.  During the course of the year we go about our diverse lives working, playing and being ourselves.  Then, for a few days at Christmas, we all merge together for family traditions.   

So why is it that for many families Christmas is the most difficult time of the year? In some households it can be stressful because of the differences in values, opinions, and viewpoints. Family secrets are buried just under the surface and tensions run high.  Everyone knows what NOT to talk about to avoid the land mines of emotion. Past hurts are avoided. Tip-toeing around on egg shells is common and the weather is a big topic of conversations.  I think though, that we have it all wrong when we allow these things to get under our skin.  I am not saying that it is easy to forget them, but I do believe that we are missing the point. 

Traditions by definition are things we do over and over again in the same way each year.  We have them so that we can remember how we are ALIKE.  In a family we all have the same blood running through our veins.  We celebrate the values we share as a family. Usually there is a matriarch or patriarch that sets the tone of the time together but there are cousins, aunts and uncles as well as other various family members. Think of all of the individuals and their unique perspectives…every family has a crazy uncle or a black sheep cousin. It is our independence that gets in the way of making these times enjoyable.  We want things to be comfortable, but we are unwilling to put down the expectations we carry.  However, IF we celebrate our common bond, things become easier.  We can allow our opinions to set on the shelf for a few hours and truly enjoy the distinctiveness of our family because we all were put together by God.  For reasons only He knows God put you with the family you came from.  You are who you are because of the way you were shaped and influenced by them.  Christmas is a time to celebrate that and be grateful for the many blessings that come from belonging.  Deep down in every heart there is a desire to belong.  We search for it our whole lives.  Our first experience with it is within our families, and even as different as we are, we still belong to one another.  I think God created imperfect families so that we would realize how desperately we need to belong to him.  At Christmas he gave us the way to belong, and the reason for the season in Jesus.  But he also gave us the family with which we celebrate this gift and a heart that shares a common bond that he designed especially for us.  Enjoy your family and have a Merry Christmas.

To everything there is a season.  I wonder if Solomon knew when he wrote these words how many mixed moments they would bring.  Maybe he wrote it BECAUSE of them.  God, in his wisdom knew, we would need these words to help us through the dichotomies of life; war/peace, life/death, laughter/tears, plant/ harvest, on and on they go.  Mixed moments.   They are part of life as we know it.  All of us have experienced them and have learned we cannot stop them.  As much as we would love laughter, life and peace all the time, we must also endure war, death and tears.  Seasons change…period.  No question.

Many times God brings people into our lives for a season.  Friendships ebb and flow.  They give us great comfort and even bring healing.  Sometimes iron is sharpening iron and other times peas are in a pod.  Our relationship with Pete and Heather is the latter.  From the time Pete met Bill they were bonded.  It was during a Christmas production at Concord.  Bill would come home and talk about Pete all the time.  He wanted me to meet this guy.  Then the kids started talking about him.  If you know Pete at all, you know that his enthusiasm for life is contagious.  He will be the first to tell you that it has not always been so, but that God is his source. His love for the arts spills out on anyone near enough to catch it.  He is talented for sure, but when we first met him he was also trying to get his footing in life.  He knew God’s tremendous grace and he knew he had a purpose, but finding out how to get from point A to point B was a bit muddled.  Enter Heather.  Center Stage. 

It is a little scary to fall in love with a man that oozes with talent but doesn’t have focus.  That is where Heather and I hit it off quite well.  We relate to one another because of our men.  We are both teachers so we know what it means to be firm but gentle.  We are cheerleaders in life and our ability to see a diamond in the rough joins our hearts.  As you can tell, this friendship is one of those rare “couple” friendships where both the husband and wife get along.  It was magical for all of us.  We shared our hearts and dreams.  The guys shared their visions…which were quite grand I might I add.  They knew our history and our weaknesses, and loved us anyway.  That was a two way street.  We walked with them through courtship, marriage, Centerpeace, college, surgery, and now baby.  It has been quite a ride and we have loved having them in our lives.  I know they are not leaving our lives, just our city. 

It is one of those mixed moments I was talking about.  We are thrilled to see what God is going to do with them.  We encourage them to grab life and go for it…whatever IT is.   But at the same time, selfishly, we want them to stay here with us.  We want to continue to watch Silas grow.  We want Pete’s input into our kids lives to continue. Bill needs a playmate and Pete is fun.  We want fun in our lives.  Heather is sweet as sugar.  I like sugar. J  But God in his infinite wisdom knows that for whatever reason a new season is needed.  It is time for our friendship to change.  It will not end, but it will be different because for everything there is a season.  So we wish you well Pete and Heather.  You will always be in our hearts.  Our special friendship means the world to us and we want you to know that you can come “home” anytime.  We release you into God’s care as you move on in life.  We love you. 

           It is that time of year again.  As you can tell from my blog…or lack of one…it has been production week.  That means we have not been home more than a couple of hours this week.  It is a huge labor of love and it never ceases to amaze me how many people are willing to commit that kind of time and effort. 

This year the theme was a military one with a heaven scene at the end which featured dancing angels.  It was quite a celebration that was portrayed as the main character entered.  I had some friends in attendance.  Several years ago one of them lost her teenage son in a car accident.  The tragedy still stings I am sure.  As this woman and her sister watched the scene, the sister said she did not get the dancing angels.  The other woman said I totally get it. That is the kind of reception my son received as he entered heaven.  As the Holy Spirit’s comfort covered their hearts the tears flowed. New life was breathed into a painful past and a burden was lifted.  God is so cool.

Another story is about Jesus, the crucified Jesus to be exact.  Shawn Alexander has been the crucified Jesus for the past 7 years I think.  I cannot tell you how many times he has been killed.  It is a brutal scene and he is thrown around quite a bit.  Let’s just say that some of the bruises are real.  Each time I am transported to the death of my Lord, as the fact that I know all the actors slips into the back of my mind.  It is a poignant reminder of his sacrifice for me. 

This year they are training a new crucified Jesus.  Shawn feels it is time for a replacement…literally FEELS it.  So a younger college age man was selected.  He played the role one of the nights to try it out.  When he was finished, he said he had a greater respect for what Shawn has been doing without complaint all these years.  He said carrying the cross hurts, and that the guards were very rough and it was incredibly difficult to hang on that cross for that long.  The blood make up is sticky and when you pull it off a layer of your skin comes off with it, not to mention the hair.  The crown of thorns really is thorns and they stick into your head.  He was singing the praise of Shawn for all that he has endured, willingly and even cheerfully for the past several years. 

His description caught my attention and I wondered how much more respect these two men each have for Jesus himself.  If the pain and suffering of ACTING like Jesus is difficult, just think how unimaginable it was to actually do what Jesus did in real life.  Carrying the cross did hurt, the guards showed no mercy as they flogged him.  Hanging on the cross as he suffocated had to be unbearable, yet he bore the pain of it all for me and you.  The thorns tore his brow and his back didn’t have much skin left on it.  It was gruesome.  Yet he endured it all willingly without complaint.  What an amazing lesson to learn.  To be like Christ is the ultimate goal, and reflecting upon the crucifixion, it was once again evident how little we are like him…really like him.  I think it is not possible for us to comprehend the staggering weight of his sacrifice.  We cannot understand why he did what he did unless we understand and RECEIVE his love for us.  Not just in our heads but in our hearts as well.  This year there were new perspectives on heaven and on the road to the cross.  Eyes were opened in new ways to see things from a different viewpoint. No matter how many times we do this production one thing remains the same, God is Glorified and he uses his glory to change hearts.

Thirteen years ago I delivered my biggest baby at 11 lbs.  I had just taken a shower and was putting on make up when the doctor came in.  He said, “Do you know you just had a baby two hours ago?”  I said, “An eleven pound baby…do you know how much better I feel?  I can turn around in the shower and not hit my belly on the wall!”

I am so grateful for Peter.  He is my fourth and last baby. He was also the biggest at birth followed closely by Aaron at 10.5 and William at 9.14.  I have big boys evidently.  Now that they are all teenagers that has taken on a whole new meaning.  Peter has probably grown 2 inches since the summer.  He is like a weed on miracle grow!  He is my sportsman and loves all things to do with sports.  He has a tender side as well that occasionally peeks out.  He cried when we told him I had cancer.  He curled up with me when I was sick.  He struggled with fear after his room caught fire.  He smiled when he got cool new furniture.  He is funny which is typical of a last born, so he loves jokes and comedians. Science is easy for him and math is hard.  He loves traditions and eating breakfast out.  He is growing into a young man now and that saddens me.  However, it is time and I wouldn’t go back to toddler-hood for anything in the world.  I now have four teenagers…wow, I can almost feel my hair turning gray.  I do love every minute, okay maybe not EVERY minute, but I am trying to hold on and enjoy them while I can because they will be gone soon.  So happy birthday Peter…you are a blessing to me and I love you a ton!

You know how you grieve after someone dies or moves away?  I think it is the new normal without that person that is the most difficult but, over time, you adjust.  You don’t forget, you just move on and adapt.  Then, in the most unexpected moments, a flood hits you.  It could be triggered by a smell or a song, a familiar scene or a tradition.  Whatever causes the emotions to swim to the surface isn’t really the issue.  It is the hole in your heart that surprises you with its sharp pain and loneliness.

            Last night I had a moment like that which caught me completely off guard.  I decided since I hadn’t seen any of the Christmas production I would watch the dress rehearsal.  It was coming along nicely but at the end, when the dancers came out, I became acutely aware that Hannah was not among them.  It was like a slap in my face that said life has moved on.  The tears welled up and overflowed.  My heart became sad and lonely.  The realization that for the past 10 years she has been there on that stage expressing her passion through dance and now she is not was a boulder on my chest.  Time is a task master and it forces the seasons to change whether we are ready or not.  I miss seeing my graceful girl worship in such an expressive way. 

            I was not expecting this emotional response.  It was a bit of grieving that had to take place.  It felt raw.  Yet I am watching her blossom at school, bed bugs and all.  She is becoming her own person and I am grateful.  God knows when the seasons need to change and he allows time to push our babies out of the nest.  I know that I have not shed my last tear over watching them go off into the world.  To embrace the pain and the joy at the same time is a challenge to say the least.  However, once again God has already walked this path.  He sent his son out into the world that would kill him.  It had to be agony, yet he gained a world of sons and daughters.  Joy and pain.  Another dichotomy of the God we love.  He can so relate to my tears and my hopes.  If I am surprised by grief again in the future…and I probably will be…I am confident that I serve a mighty God that holds me close as the seasons change.

Some of you may have heard about our bed bug saga.  The hall Hannah lives on has had bed bugs since the beginning of the year.  They started three rooms down and have spread slowly up the hall.  Two rooms have already been evacuated and are now empty.  It is a very frustrating problem to have.  Each time they are discovered the girls have to wash every item of clothing.  They have to bag every item in their room in air tight sealed bags to suffocate the buggers.  The bug man comes and sprays then steams the rooms.  They have to sit for a few days then the girls move every thing back in and set the room up again.  The first couple of times it was a precaution.  The third time I found one dead bug as we were washing the bed linens.  Over Thanksgiving we did 14 loads of laundry.  When we got to the sheets there were live bugs in them.  I put them back in the bag sealed it up and threw it away. ( I never bring them in the house until I have checked them first in the yard.)  We took it all back to set up again.  This time I went to help the battle weary girls.  We started unpacking the bags that had been left in the room first.  As we were working we found a live bug.  This after the steaming and spraying over the break.  Frustration set in and tears flowed.  I ended up staying over to get them settled in their new room at the guest cottages.  Today I met with the dean of students, the residence life director, the physical plant director and some other directors I do not even know.  All were frustrated and very sorry about this nightmare for the girls.  They plan to move them for the next two weeks so they can really get in the room each day to treat the bugs.  They have a plan and they are spraying all the rooms on all three floors to try to knock them out.  Please pray that this blitz will work and the stablity will return after Christmas break.  The girls are handling it beautifully but still it is wear them down.  Finals are next week and this is a huge distraction.  It is evedently a new problems hitting campuses across the US.  They are working and helping the girls in every way possible.  I am hopeful that this can be resolved soon!  Join with me in praying for a cure.  Thanks.

            In a trial by fire (pun intended) there are always heroes.  They are people that show up at just the right time and do the things you could not do for yourself.  The trial does not have to be large like cancer or losing your home.  It can be anything that knocks you off your feet literally or spiritually.  God will send his people, and sometimes he sends those that are not his.  He can use anyone, anywhere, anytime.  He is quite big.  My point is that he puts you on someone’s heart and they act; wonderful grace for the moment.  These people are reason you can keep moving forward in the trauma and the healing that follows.  I have quite a list of people to be grateful for this Thanksgiving. We know that nothing from the past few months would have gone as smoothly without you all.

1. The firefighters.  Seems straightforward enough, but they came and quickly.
2. My neighbor Suzanne and her husband Gary.  She was at my house as the fire trucks arrived with water and umbrellas for us.  They provided their house as a place of refuge while we were waiting for them to put out the fire.  They allowed all those that helped us to use her bathroom day and night…that was a huge blessing. When our stuff came back they helped us unload boxes.
3. A former neighbor Phil.  He is a fire fighter and came the night of the fire.  He was our go between.  He helped us with the paperwork and told us what was happening via his radio while we were waiting for the fire to be out.  He also helped us find our rental house, because for his regular job he is a real estate agent.
4. Bill’s mom and dad.  They opened their doors and beds to a family of six with two dogs.  She watched, cooked for, and cleaned up after my children.  He walked the dogs every day.  They love us and for that we are grateful.
5. My mom and dad.  They showed up ready to do whatever we needed.  Dad took all our instruments to different stores for repair.  They agreed to do the research for our inventory to find replacement prices. They also sat and waited for furniture to be delivered, repairmen to show up and a host of other things to get us back in the house.  They love us and for that we are grateful.
6. My friends Mary and Gail.  They came and helped me with stuff around the house in the stench and heat.  Writing down inventory and digging through the rubble.  They brought food so that Bill’s mom had a break from the cooking.  When the stuff arrived back at our house they helped unload boxes.  They are wonderful friends and the three of us make a great team.
7. My friends Mary (again) and Kerry.  They helped us pull our dead dog out of the ditch and cried with us as we loaded her body on the truck.  We knew they would understand.
8. My friend Beth Anne.  She stood in the soaring heat of summer at our storage unit for hours helping me go through boxes of clothes.  We carted away 10 bags of stuff to the thrift store before heading to get a much needed pedicure which she paid for.  Old friends make the best friends. 
9.  Rita and Jim our landlords.  They have been wonderful to allow us to rent on a month to month basis, doing what we need for the insurance and our family to make us welcome here.
10. My prayer buddies Maria, Carolyn and Laurie (by proxy).  They came to my new place to pray and support me. Then they came to my place to pray to welcome me home.  Prayer changes things.
11. My children…all four.  They have been troopers and made this much easier than I thought it would ever be.  They have made an effort to get along with one another and I more than appreciate the peace.
12. My husband, again.  What can I say?  We have been through crisis after crisis and he knows me better than anyone.  We are a team and we continue to work together through stuff like this as a team. 
13. The cleaning company.  I know that they are getting paid for what they do, however they are doing their jobs with sensitivity and flexibility.  I appreciate that.
14. My friend Sherri.  She brought me clothes that are far better than mine.  I have a work wardrobe thanks to her.
15. Other friends and family.  Many purchased gift cards for immediate needs.  Others offered to supply food or strong backs for moving stuff.  We could not do life without this kind of support system.
16. All of my friends that have taken in my kids for a night.  That has helped them to feel like it is a normal summer.  They always love to spend the night out and play at the houses of others.  That has been a big help for me as well.
17. Peter’s soccer team.  These wonderful people, some of whom do not know us well at all, took up a collection.  The coach Dennis Hill decided that rather than accept a coach’s gift that they would donate money to us.  It was a total surprise and blessing to us. I cried.
18. My teaching family.  These ladies help each other in times of need.  Pat brought us dinner when we moved back in.  Traci sewed seams so my new curtains would fit. Martha brought boys clothing for my kids. I’ve already mentioned, Suzanne, Mary, and Beth Anne.  I love working with caring people.
19. The many who have offered to do whatever we needed.  Unfortunately, there isn’t a lot we can farm out in a practical sense.  No one can go through our stuff for us, but the moral support that comes from the offers of help goes a long way to ease our minds and hearts.  Not to mention your prayers…keep on praying.  That is the main thing that carries us through our days. 

Now that we are back home we continue to be blessed by so many people.  It will take us months to get the house in complete order…what am I saying, our house is never in complete order…well, you know what I mean.  The boxes are not labeled so it is like a scavenger hunt to find what you are looking for.  A box of underwear, another for socks (not matched of course), several bags of shoes…on and on it goes. We have slowly been working our way through and have made great progress.  I think that over the holidays we can get it done, but I didn’t want to neglect offering up a prayer of Thanksgiving to God for our blessings.  We thank all of you and thank God for you. You are our heroes. Happy Thanksgiving. 

      You have not lived until you have ridden a bus with 45 excited fourth graders for an hour and 45 minutes.  The noise, the silliness, and the crazy things they do are nerve wracking.  We went to the opera yesterday.  It was an exhausting trip…fieldtrips always are.  To the point that I wonder, each time, why did I ever do this?  What was I thinking when I made this call?  
     Each trip is like an unknown adventure.  Will we get lost on our way to Atlanta?  The answer? Usually.  Will our bus break down on the emergency lane of 85?  Yep.  Will we have enough lunches?  Probably not.  Can we find a bathroom when we need one?  Depends on if you count trees as bathrooms.  Will we arrive home with all the students we left with?  Probably.  Will the parents be there to pick them up?  Nope.
      Hassle?  You bet.  Headache?  You have no idea.  Is it worth it?  Most definitely.  Once again yesterday there were the usual stresses of taking 171 kids into a crowd of 3000.  Eating lunch on the bus was an added plus.  We went to see Cinderella, the opera.  Did I mention it was in Italian?  They have subtitles they told us.  I guess that would be a great thing...if my kids could read!  So we go inside this new place near the Galleria in Cobb county.  Wow!  It was beautiful.  We sit down and the questions start.  What are those people doing in that hole?  That is the orchestra pit.  Who gets to sit in those?  Didn’t Abraham Lincoln get shot here, up in one of those boxes?  At least, now I know that he was listening in Social Studies.  
        The curtain goes up and all is dark and quiet.  The show was a comedy so the actions of the singers disguised the fact that we could not understand one word.  The costumes were fabulous and boy could they all sing.  I am not a big opera fan, but I recognize quality and talent when I hear it.  Phenomenal.    The sets were elaborate and beautiful.  Of all the day, my favorite part was when the set changed.  Things went up into the ceiling and more came down.  The panels rotated bringing with them imagination.  I have seen sets changed before.  To me it was simply a part of the performance that must take place.  But to my students…ahhh, that was something for them to see.  I heard an audible gasp when the set began to change.  Each new piece brought another ohhh or ahhh.  They were amazed with mouths hanging open.   That was their favorite part.  Mine was watching them take it all in.  
         Then when Cinderella made her grand entrance every little girl wished SHE was a princess.  You could see the dream in their eyes…to be beautiful…to be loved.  It was a tender moment and one they will never forget. One that will give them hope on days that are not so beautiful. I prayed that one day the Prince of Peace with rescue them and transform them into the princesses they were created to be.  I watched their world get bigger right before my very eyes.  That transformation is one that every teacher lives for.   It is why we endure all the headaches of field trips.  There is no doubt that every time I set foot on a bus for a trip there will be something new discovered, not only for my students, but for me as well.