Forty Reasons We Love Heather

Sometimes, there just aren't enough reasons to love others.

Sometimes, there isn't enough space, or enough words, to tell all the reasons that you do.

Today is our darling friend, Heather's, birthday. It's a big milestone birthday that I'm probably not allowed to tell you. Not because she feels old but rather I'm worried there's some sort of age limit on the acceptability of fart jokes. I hope not. Dinner conversations will never be as funny again.

So instead, I'm using this space to not only share my words about the wonder of Heather, but I'm also sharing the words of some other friends. And I shall reveal the FORTY reasons we all love her.

1. She likes fart jokes.

2. She cackles when she laughs really hard.

3. I love Heather's dry wit and kind heart. She is so very funny and giving. -- Debi Campbell

4. She is adventurous and has traveled the world.

5. The sarcasm. Oh, the sarcasm.

6. Heather will tackle any challenge without fear.

Okay. Maybe a little fear.

7. Heather was the first person that made me feel like part of a team at Nichols.  She made team meetings fun, and I loved that she was just this side of crazy. XLR8Rs 4 life, yo! -- Angela Kaker

8. She's a badass nerd.

9. Loyalty. If she's got your back, she's got your back. Always.

10. She's tough. As nails.

11. My first awkward moment with Heather was during a team potluck lunch.  I brought deviled eggs, with bacon. I had no idea she ate meat-free! She was gracious, even after she took a bite! oh how she loved our Brain Busters. I so appreciated her sensitive way she motivated or mentored all kids, but she sure had a special way to love on a student even at their hard-to-love moments. -- Annie Garza

12. She's a vegetarian who is cool enough to take you out for a steak dinner.

13. Heather can fix anything. I mean, I can fix anything with duct tape, but she can really, really fix it. Like, for real. -- Me

14. She weighs less when she's drunk. Honest. #Science

15. Heather is not intimidated by head lice, broken wells, or pee in a Gatorade bottle. If you're a teenage boy, and you've done something unbelievably stupid, she will own you.

16. I love that she was always unflappable. No matter what the kid did at camp or how much they were bleeding, Heather would stay calm and take care of the situation. I also love her ability to be a kid.... I think that is why the kids loved her so. -- Denis Cranford

 

17. One of only two adult that I know, in real life, that can rock some pigtails. With attitude.

18. Her generosity of time, money, and spirit. There is not an hour of the day you cannot call her. There is not a moment she will not be there.

19. Vegetarian or not, she will hunt down the big daddy rat in your shitty camp apartment and feed him to the snake living in the hall closet. Word.

20. She was always so much fun to be around. Her wit and charm were delightful. One of my favorite memories of her is when she was one of the back-up singers with Sally and me (the de la Vida singers), and we used rubber gloves to make our boobs bigger and we used small stones taped to the gloves to make nipples. Heather was game for anything, and we had so much fun. Heather, you are awesome!!! -- Nurse Barbara

21. Heather is apparently unafraid to have big ol' fake boobs with stony nipples.

22. I guarantee that Heather is laughing so hard she is wheezing and searching for her inhaler right now after 20 and 21.

23. She does not know the meaning of "that's a SIPPIN' shot".

24. One of my favorite Heather stories is when I went with the girls to her graduation in Abilene. It was my first introduction to "Blue Tattoo" (an intensely blue-colored schnapps). We did consume some adult beverages that weekend. It was my first experience of partying with people that could be my kids. There are so many wonderful memories of Heather and camp that are too numerous to mention, but I do clearly remember her 30th birthday party when I learned how much Heather loves PINK! Happy Birthday, precious girl. I love and miss you to pieces!!! -- Nurse Sally

25. Checking the after effects of Blue Tattoo is considered an experiment. #science

26. She is a rockstar teacher and coach. She spends hundreds and thousands of hours raising other people's children because she will love the unlovable. She will teach the unteachable. And she manages the unmanageable. 

27. She is one hell of a mentor.

28. I love Heather's ability to see the silver lining and do so with the most wicked, yet delightful, sense of humour.  -- Jamie Fletcher

29. Whenever I think of Heather, the first thing that comes to mind is her smile. You almost never see her not smiling! She is so encouraging and happy -- she brings light into any room she's in. -- Stephanie Shackelford

30. Heather, you are one of the most loving people I know. Not only are you loving, but you are real! And that is so hard to come by! To let you know just how awesome you are, I created a poem:

Oh Heather, oh Heather,

No matter what the weather

You are always real, 

probably the realest person ever

At Mt. Loma or Fossil Hill

Your friends are close like birds of a feather.

Marcus is so cool,

You're raising a trendsetter.

Happy Birthday to you,

stay awesome and cool

And your years will keep getting better and better.

Love, Jarrett

31. She's a fantastic mom. And she didn't let anything stop her from being a mom to someone who really needed her. They save each other every day. And it's amazing.

32. Heather, you are amazing. You have truly influenced me in the kind of teacher I am today. You have the kindest heart, and watching you raise Marcus really inspires me in my everyday life with my kids who need a hero. -- Katie Krambeer

33. I love that Heather because she is so loving and compassionate. She loves animals, special needs children and people in general. I've also always loved her passion for sports... especially soccer. One of my favorite memories of Heather is being able to joke around with her in ways you couldn't with most girls and seeing her face when someone says something that could be taken a few ways and watching her try to contain herself is priceless. I still have the post card she sent me. :) Heather is one of a kind and will always be special to me. -- Ryan Willey

34. She believes that a dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste.

35. She suffers no fools. And she does not mind telling you if you're acting like one.

This. This is the look you'll get, fools.

36. Heather is crunchy outer shell, soft gooey inside. She is secretly sentimental and delighted by the small things.

37. Heather is one of the smartest people that I know.  Yet she doesn't hold that over anyone's head -- unless they are truly stupid. She has no patience for stupid people. However, she has incredible patience with young children. Especially those that are difficult to deal with. I often turned over a challenging child, saying, "You're going to have to deal with him/her. I don't know what to do!" And she's pretty hilarious too. But most of all, I would say she's loyal, and I know that she always has my back. -- LJ

38. Heather is a firecracker! A tiny but mighty spirit with an engaging, devilish smile that instantly makes you want to join her team. Whether it's her sports team, department team, or team of friends -- she's spunky and vivacious, and forever branded in my NJH "Good Stuff" memory bank. -- Angela Stidham

39. She throws a mean set of dice. There's a one-eyed Pit Boss at the Horseshoe Casino and Hotel who can verify this.

40. Heather, you are steadfast. When the winds are wild, you anchor us. When seas are calm, you push us. You steer the ship. You fix the broken parts. You dive in when any of us go overboard. You are the sturdy life jacket, the whimsical umbrella in our cocktail, and the lighthouse guiding us home. 

--D, C, and L

Happy Birthday, Heather-Feather. We love you fiercely.

Three is a Magic Number

Three is a magic number. It always has been. It always will be.

Our Brooklyn Claire turns 3 today. And she's pretty magic.

In the tradition of 3rd birthdays, a series of haiku poems.

Hair bows and tutus

Pearls, curls, and rowdy, wild girls

This is Brooklyn Claire.

Sunshine and giggles

This is our ladybug wish

Mostly, you comply.

Fierce independence,

The world is too small, I fear

For the likes of you.

Who dares defy you?

Rain your fury upon them,

Little Pink Storm Cloud.

But when there is peace,

There are pouty lips, sweet sighs

The world rights itself.

Such a little girl

Standing in a sea of boys,

steering your own ship.

Blue eyes and big hopes

Guide you on your merry way

Let us come with you.

Today is special.

Three is a magic number,

Just like you, sweet girl.

Happy Birthday, Brooklyn. I hope today is all birthday cake, belly laughs, and beauty. I love you.

*Photo credits, as always, to the Mullaney and Hopkins families who, unlike me, always have their cameras and who cannot stop snapping photos of their gorgeous children, thank goodness.

What Love Is

When I was 5 or 6, I went with my mother for a portrait sitting. A local artist at the rundown Pampa mall created a beautiful portrait in chalk. I don't really remember the actual sitting; I'm sure it felt like it took forever and a day. But I remember my father's reaction when he unwrapped it. It stole his breath, and it is one of the only moments in my childhood I can recall in which I saw my father cry. It is, to this day, his favorite gift.

I thought, "That is what love is." Attention to detail. The element of surprise.

When I was 7, my father bought our family a VCR. We thought it was our big gift until he told us to go outside. There, with snow falling gently, sat a brand new white station wagon with a big red bow. All for my mom. I did not think, "Wow. Who on Earth wants to be surprised with a station wagon?"

I thought, "That is what love is." Big moments. Red bows. Extravagance and newness.

As a child, I loved to watch my mother and father dance. They would twirl around the dance floor of the night club they managed while I roller-skated past them, calling for them to watch me. But when they danced they did not take their eyes from one another.

I thought, "That is what love is." Slow dances. George Jones. Letting the world melt away.

All my life, I would watch my dad come in from working out in the cold. He would take off his work gloves and put his cold hands on the back of my mom's neck to make her jump and squeal. She always knew he would, and she never tried to avoid it. And then, he would stand behind her at the kitchen sink and kiss her.

I thought, "That is what love is." Shared jokes. Cold hands. Warm kisses.

My entire life, my dad would tell jokes. Some were long and complicated. Others were short and corny. A few were downright filthy. But they were all followed with a sharp, surprised laugh. And when it was really good... a short snort. When my mother laughs, her whole face laughs. When my father smiles, his eyes dance. No one can make my mother laugh like my father. And nothing makes him smile like her laugh.

I thought, "That is what love is." More smiles and laughter than shouts and tears.

Sometimes there were shouts and tears and stony silence. But there were apologies and warm kisses and letting go, too.

I thought, "That is what love is." Forgiving. Second chances. Moving on. Making it work.

And now, six days a week, my mother gets into her battered old Buick and drives 60 miles, round trip, to see my father. There are days full of domino games in which she always shuffles and sometimes plays for both him and herself. The only day she misses are Thursday card games with her friends. My dad teases her by calling it her "work day". Thursdays are hardest for him, but he never asks her to miss it. There are no more giant red bows or slow dances or hands freezing from the cold. There are tears some days, but there are also smiles. There are kisses hello but there are now always kisses goodbye. There has been health; there has been sickness. There are unanswered questions and there are unsure futures. There are hardships and heartache, but there is sacrifice and strength as well.

And sometimes, even now -- even through everything -- when they hold hands and look at one another, I think, "No. I was wrong. This is what love is."

Forty-one years worth.

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad.

The Road

Today is graduation day for a wonderful friend of mine. When I first met him, he was just a skinny little kid in a Superman t-shirt. He was funny and kind and far too responsible and reliable for a 12 year-old. When you would look at him, you could see the leader he was becoming. He was smart and silly and always knew which the situation called for. He asked questions and sought my advice and put others ahead of himself.

Now, all these years later, the only thing that has changed is his age and the fact that he is no longer becoming a leader. He has become.

Jarrett grew up in front of my eyes at summer camp, from camper to LIT to joining my staff as a counselor and then to training future counselors. He found a home at camp, and camp found a home in him. Watching him journey from boy to man has been one of the closest things I've ever known to being a mom.

Well, maybe an older sister. Or just a really wise and cool aunt.

Today marks the end of a long road, Jarrett. You probably could have reached the end more quickly, but where is the beauty in that? The freeway is fast, but it is drab and devoid of hidden treasures.

The road has not always been smooth, especially this past year, yet life is full of pot holes and traffic jams. Everyone would rather just ignore those obstacles, but you have the patience to wait it out and the knowledge that traffic eventually clears. And you understand what to do when the wheels fly off. It is astounding the number of people in this world, sitting on the side of the road, unable to go on.

This hasn't always been an easy trip. There have been detours and wrong turns and missed exits. But sometimes, I believe, the only way to truly find your path is to get lost a few times first.

Yes, it's been a long road to this day, Jarrett. But I hope the journey has been worthwhile. And although I can't be there to root you on in person today, when you cross that stage, just know that, in my heart, I'm in the audience, waving a big ol' glittery sign and embarrassing the hell out of you.

Because that's what moms and big sisters and cool, wise aunts really do.

Happy Graduation Day, Superman. I am so very, very proud of you.

The Little Sister

At work, there is always someone who everyone loves to pick on, mess with, tease. Not in a mean-spirited way, of course, but more in the older sibling-little sister sort of way. For us at work, that is often our friend Jenny.

We are sort of merciless. We tease her about her selfies and sorority girl poses. We steal her keys and cup and try to stage Facebook interventions. We interrogate her about her love life and give the side eye to any boy who comes a-callin'. We feed her fibs to try to fool her and delight when she falls for it yet again. I don't think anyone's given her a noogie though. Or at least not in the last week.

But Jenny is an indomitable spirit. She sees the best in others and helps anyone in need. She adores her students and leads them through math that, quite honestly, makes my head spin. She indulges us our sh*ts and giggles and very rarely gets any more mad than an eyeroll and an exasperated "Y'alllll..."

Jenny is a happy daisy blooming through a yard full of weeds at times.

And, this year, she told me that she loved reading my blog. At first I thought she was teasing me. (Being older doesn't necessarily make you more confident, after all.) But, time after time, she would tell me specifically about things I had written that made her laugh or think or cry.  It's a big compliment when someone tells you that she and her twin sister stayed up late, not to go out to a party, but to go through your old posts.

It's been a while since I've been here. The end of the school year is exhausting, and this year is no different. But I couldn't resist coming to my little place on the internet to wish my favorite cyber stalker a very happy birthday, no matter how tired I might be. Especially since I forgot the customary lunchtime cupcakes today.

Happy Birthday, Roopester. Thanks for putting up with all of us, butting into your life every day. This post is all for you.

Potential

One of the hardest lessons I've ever had to learn is this:

You cannot want more for somebody than he wants for himself.

It's simply an unhealthy desire, and it will leave you, broken-hearted, banging your head against a wall.

As a teacher, I do battle with this every day. I see students with such potential who continually underachieve or disbelieve their own abilities or self-sabotage on a daily basis.

It's such a magical word -- potential. Really. It practically screams to be bolded and italicized. It's a whole universe of dreams and possibility in a nice little 9-letter space. But in truth, it's just a word. And, often, it's our own hopes and dreams we are forcing into that 9-letter space; not theirs. This is the danger zone.

With my 7th graders taking their standardized test in writing tomorrow and Wednesday, (and another round with math and reading in just 2 more weeks), I found it especially difficult to cram any more into their heads. Each class, I had to take the academic and emotional temperature of the room. Some classes needed a pep talk. Some needed last minute reminders. Others just needed to know what classroom to show up to tomorrow. And still others just needed to be left the Hell alone.

It is a fearsome and dangerous thing to poke a hive of agitated bees.

When each class left me today, I had to fight down the urge to focus on the 3 or 4 kids each class who voiced that they "only want to pass" and demanded to know the passing rate for this test. It's not typically 70, as in class, but that's the last thing I want them to do -- aim low -- so my lies of omission are the strategies I employ. Their desire to be average is completely foreign to me and also happens to be far below their suspected potential. but they are not me, and I am not them.

I cannot want for them what they do not want for themselves. All it leaves me with is a bruised head and a broken heart. They will do as they will do, and all that I am able to provide is the patience to see them through and the trust that I've prepared them as well as I possibly know how. The rest is up to them.

So, for all of my fellow teachers, in the midst of testing season, I offer this advice. Let them be. There will be plenty of other days to karate kick the hive.

Kindness Matters

One of my students asked me last week what I wanted for my birthday this Thursday. I told him that I honestly didn't know. He suggested a Duke trip to the Final Four, but even I knew that was a pretty desperate wish. I'm sad at just how right I was.

But I did think about it all weekend. It's so great to be a kid with a birthday coming up. The world is your oyster, and it's just about the only time that you get a pass for being selfish with your wishes. No sharing. No watching your back for that creepy elf. No costumes. Just you, a big sugar rush, and a pile of presents.

As an adult, though, it's lost a little bit of its magic, and I find myself needing fewer and fewer things in my life. So I've been thinking instead about all of the richness I already have.

I have been blessed with a meaningful career that challenges me every day.

I am honored to work alongside some of the most dedicated teachers I've ever known, and I have been for 14 years now.

I have money in my bank account. I cannot always say this, but I can right now. So there, I said it.

I have a home with cuddly kitties who snuggle and comfort me no matter how awful or great my day has been.

I have a home.

I watch, each day, my former students and campers grow up to change the world. And I get to say I had a tiny part in it.

I am relatively healthy, even if there's more of me than I'd like there to be.

I have a family who has always wanted me to be more than I ever dreamed I could become, even if it meant letting me go in order to have it.

I am surrounded by friends who loved me when I had nothing to give them but my friendship. And they haven't stopped yet.

And, this year especially, I've found myself surrounded by kindness. From the smallest moments to the biggest struggles, I've been met with nothing but encouragement and support and kindness. In a world that often feels so negative, I constantly am astounded by how much light there truly is.

I have always believed that kindness matters. I even keep a small sign in my classroom to remind both myself and my students of this. I believe it's circular; what you give, you will one day receive. I believe that it's contagious. And I believe that it is intentional. 

Certainly, I think there are some people in this world who are just more naturally inclined to being kind, but I don't think it happens accidentally. All of us, at some point or another (perhaps today even) has been faced with the choice -- to be or not to be kind. The chances and opportunities may be random, but the choice is not. I wish I could say that I always make the right choice, but I don't. The very best thing I can hope for is a chance to make the choice again, and I can.

Kindness is one of our last renewable resources. Yet it's only renewed by each of us.

This year, I don't want a sugar rush. I don't need a pile of presents. And I've already had the very best birthday party I could ask for, out in the wild West Texas wind with my most beautiful, wonderful friends.

All I want is for you to put a little more kindness out into the well. You don't have to tell me, or anyone else for that matter, but do it. Think about the nicest someone ever made you feel and, over the next few days, try to give that to someone else. 

Here are some of my favorites:

• Let someone cut in front of you at the grocery store.
• Go over to a new mom's house and hold that baby while she sleeps or showers or folds clothes.
• Sneak attack hugs (or high fives)
• Donate to a local shelter. Call them first. Ask what they need. Hit the Dollar Store.
• Allow your significant other to sleep in. Especially if you have kids or animals.
• Pick up the tab for the person at the next table (or behind you in the drive-thru)
• Spend an hour at a nursing home.
• Take a bouquet of flowers to the hospital and tell the nurse to give it to their most in-need patient.
• Clean out your bookshelves. Donate your favorites. Old books need new lives.
• Bake some cookies for your secretary or custodian or local service people.
• Leave a nice note for your waiter or waitress (along with a generous tip).
• Leave a nice handwritten note for ANYONE (words matter too!)
• Drop off a bag of food or litter to an animal shelter.
• Make copies or run an errand for a coworker when they least expect it (thanks again, Mandy, for the copies last week -- one of the best gifts you could give me: time!)
• Smile or tell a joke. Tell your dumbest one. Even if people say they don't like it, they probably do.
• Call someone who made you angry and forgive them. This is a tough one. Or forgive yourself.
• Send an email to your boss and brag on someone they may have overlooked. Teachers, pick a kid to brag on. Send 'em to the office on a POSITIVE referral.
• Pray. Pray for someone who doesn't ask. Pray for someone who may not know how.
• Notice the strengths of others. Thank them for it. Let them know how their gifts matter to you.

It doesn't have to be big or expensive or even well-planned. But when the opportunity presents itself, grab it and fill the well. You might just find yourself a little renewed, too.

Thank you, yet again, for visiting this space this past year. Whether you left a comment or whispered a prayer or just had a little chuckle, somehow I felt it. And it's lifted me up.

That's more than I ever could have wished for, friends.