Courage Doesn't Always Roar: A Teacher's Quest to Be Better Each Day

He tells me I'm the "cariest" because when he was hurt,  I cared for him. Then he tells me how  he waited so long for me wishing I would get there that awful day he was hurt. I told him I raced. From the moment the phone rang. Rushed to be with him. (I didn't tell him I chanted "Please be alive, please be alive, please be alive"  the whole way there.) I tell him that when I parked A policeman told me to move my car because an ambulance was coming. I yelled, "But that's my son in there!" And had to move my car. I told him that when I parked the car near all the snow, piled up by the road, I ran- and I never run. For him, I ran. For him, I do all the things  I think I cannot. 

The storm has found me. For so long, I have sailed in relatively calm seas. A wave here or there would rock my ship a bit, but just a little. It always righted. I've sailed on, always fearful of the day the storm would come, the storm that would knock my breath away and turn my life upside down. I'd watch my fellow sailors brave storms in their lives with a mixture of guilt and gratitude. Why did I escape the pounding rain, the driving wind, the punishing waves, when others faced unimaginable storms? So my storm came a few weeks ago with the unexpected ring of a phone. An ambulance ride. A hospital stay. Doctors appointments. Life altered.  And my crew is still with me, and so that is the most incredible blessing. And kindness has flowed our way, with grace and prayers and presents and dinners. And beautiful cards have been sent to us and stand in our window. And cheerful balloons stand guard in our dining room.  And I'm looking ahead to rainbows and I'm wishi...

December wears sparkles and shimmers, Deep red lips, sequins and crushed velvet. She throws her head back in laughter as she parties all month long. Her laugh like the jingle of a bell.  She drinks too much. Eats too much,  Spends too much.  December throws caution to the wind, lives in the moment, celebrates everything. December's older, more responsible sister, is January. January wears beige and gray, and often black. She wakes up every morning to exercise And counts every calorie. Nary a donut passes by January's lips.  January thinks carefully about the cost  And rarely spends at all.  Watching the numbers in her bank account  Sighing as she pays off December's debts AGAIN. She often doesn't feel very celebratory.  But, that January- she's a do-er.  When you resolve to be better at everything, go see January.  *** I've often thought about December and January as polar opposites. December is a time we ...