300

We hit a milestone at Full of Graces this week: 300 followers!

We always meant to be serious about this blog, but writing is such a publicly personal experience that you kind of have to tell yourself you won’t care if no one reads your stuff. When people do read it, and share it, and comment on it, it’s pretty cool. Thanks to everyone who has joined us. We’re glad you’re here.

One unexpected bonus of this journey has been the other bloggers we’ve “met”: food folks and faith folks and fashion folks and just plain nice solid folks. We have prayed and been prayed for, shared recipes, witnessed life changing events. Talk about Grace in our lives! The blog has opened doors across the country and down the road in ways we never anticipated. We are inspired to be better writers and better spirits by these folks, to the extent that shortly we will be adding a blog roll to our home page so they can maybe inspire you as well.

And…we have a surprise. Dana’s mother-in-law is a wizard with a sewing machine. She just recently turned this gift in the direction of little girls dresses. The result has been stunning, handcrafted, boutique quality dresses that will knock your socks off.

Annnnnnnd…we get to give one away!

(Just as soon as we figure out a fair way to do that! Lol.)

So stay tuned. We have BIG things planned! Fall and football and comfort food, just to name a few.

Happy Friday!

Dana and Jen

For the Rookies, on the First Day of School ~ Jen

There’s nothing better than brand new school supplies!

At the very core of education, in your own classroom, there is nothing like the magic of educating kids. Nothing. You see moments in a kid’s life, flashes of brilliance and frustration; you hear them laugh, you see them cry. Sometimes you make them cry, and you steel your heart to their tears because you know what you are saying is for their own good.

You are mom, friend, sister; you are at once the coolest cat and the biggest bitch; you will love them, and have days where you could climb a mountain; you will hate them and have days where you wish it was still legal to spank them.

You will love their parents and you will hate their parents. You will see some beautiful souls and some souls bound for the deepest parts of hell. You will hear stories that make you believe in the human spirit, and stories that give you nightmares and make you hug your kids a little tighter. Students will lie to your face; parents will lie to your face. One day, a student will tell you a truth so terrible that you will wish they had lied. You will help them while your heart is breaking inside.

You will want to save them. You will want to take at least 20 of them home with you. Then you will realize that some kids are not meant to be saved by you. And you will cry.

You will change kids’ lives. And they will change yours. A young man will stand across the desk from you, his head down, his voice quiet, and tell you that he doesn’t think he can ever put into words the way you have changed his life. The angels will sing. Some people would go home and call that a career. But not you. You will get up and come to school the next day because that’s what you do.

All of this is true. It happened to me. And in the midst of it, I taught some English to 11th graders.

It’s such a gift, this job, but it demands your life’s blood. It’s not an “in the meantime job”. It’s a 20 hour a day, plan a year in advance, every day is a brand new challenge job.

When you’re good at it, you give your life to it. And no good teacher ever just teaches. They coach and moderate and sponsor and serve on committees and boards. They get inside as many circles of their students’ lives as possible, because good teachers know that connection is how kids succeed—when there are trustworthy adults at every turn.

You will know you are on the right track when the question of your reputation results in fierce debate between the kids who love you and the kids who hate you. Change is hard for teenagers, just like for grown ups. When you push them, they’ll push back. Stay strong. I once had a student named Jerome revise a paper 9 times to get a B and when he did, he hung that thing proudly on the fridge. And didn’t speak to me for two weeks. I was so proud of him. That’s some real learning, right there.

You will make mistakes. Tons. There’s no way to talk to 200 kids a day and not say something stupid on a fairly regular basis. When you do, just apologize. No one ever apologizes to teenagers. They will respect you forever if you own your mistakes. And they will learn from you that apologies don’t make you weak, they make you honorable.

But don’t ever let them forget that you are the queen—or king—of your classroom. Yes, the queen can be wrong. But she’s still the queen. So when they ask “Why are we doing this?” and what they mean is “Do we really have to do this?” ask them “Who am I?” By Christmas, they should know to say “You are the Queen of this classroom” and they should know that means that you are trustworthy, you are making the best decisions for them that you can, and that as a result, you will brook no lazy disagreement.

A teacher is like a farmer—we sow a lot of seeds. We don’t always get to see the fruit that grows, or the harvest because it can take years. I keep myself hidden on Facebook, but I have a few former students in my newsfeed: the doctor, the teacher, the one who works with older people, the one who joined the family business, the single mom who finished college, the single mom who is serving our country, the one who just celebrated her 10^th wedding anniversary. It is so incredible to see their smiling faces as adults, their beautiful children, their dreams coming true, their determination to do the best they can.

You will have this too, if your heart is sincere. It’s about the kids. The kids will strip you down and make you see who you really are. The kids will make you better, even the ones who make you crazy first. Maybe them most of all.

Society won’t tell you that the job you do is important, but it is. You are in charge of tomorrow.

So best of luck. And in January, when you cannot for the life of you remember why you picked this stupid f*$king job, hang on. I promise that by May you will feel much better.

Dear Teresa ~ Jen

Happy 21^st birthday, sweet girl.

I could get all misty eyed about the four year old you, screaming out my name when I walked into church every Sunday; or the seven year old you, in my mom’s apron, standing over the sink cleaning the silver a few days before Thanksgiving; or the eleven year old you walking down the aisle at my wedding.

But here you are, standing in the doorway of your childhood, so this is it. Time to leave those things behind. The rubber meets the road, and not just for you. For all of us who participated in your growing up, now we see if we did it “right”. If we gave you all the love and tools and advice that you need to move on to the next part.

You can’t go back. What’s done—great, good, bad, ugly—is done. We can’t any of us do it over. Some adults your age get stuck in the place of what might have been. Those folks, they never grow up. They stay angry little children inside, always throwing tantrums and blaming others for what goes wrong in their lives.

Their moms never taught them “You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit”. But yours did. And we did. So if you think you are missing parts and pieces—and maybe you are—it’s not an excuse. You’re resourceful. If you need something, find it. If a space is empty, fill it. Don’t walk around hollow in your heart and your spirit and blame that on someone else.

You’re an adult now. You make your own way. Which is good news and bad news.

You make your own choices.

You face their consequences on your own.

So before you cross that threshold from childhood to adulthood, let me offer some last gifts of wisdom.

Life is much easier if you are patient, kind and truthful. Society doesn’t seem to value these traits, but society is wrong. It’s only a dog eat dog world if you agree to be a dog. You are a child of God. And no one earns points in life for being a jerk.

Speak up for what is right. Stand up for those who are weaker. Always give a part of your time, talent or treasure to someone who needs it more. These things keep us connected and humble.

Remember that God is inside you and everyone else, too. Always be nice to God.

If the people in your life are not nice to the God in you, move on. Give them space and pray for their healing. There is too much love out there to spend time with those who won’t or can’t give it.

I hope you travel around this country. I hope you travel around other countries. I hope you spend most of your twenties getting your wiggle out, physically, culturally, spiritually, before you settle down for marriage and motherhood.

I hope you form your own Committee and go on Sunday Benders with them. A smart person knows they don’t make it through life alone.

Grow your life with Jesus, too. You’ll need Him.

In England, when young adults come of age, it’s tradition to give them a key. It hearkens back to the time when it was an accomplishment to reach this age, and as a mark of maturity and responsibility, 21 year olds were given the key to the home.

Shea and I like the symbolism of this gift. You hold the key to your life in your hand and in your heart. You can make your life what you want, no matter the trials and tribulations that come along. You have a lot of support. You can ask for help.

But you can never be a child again. St. Paul reminds us “When I was a child, I used to talk like a child, and see things as a child does, and think like a child; but now that I have become an adult, I have finished with all childish ways” (1 Cor 13:11).

It’s time. Step out into the light and wide open space of the rest of your life. You’re ready.

We love you!

Shea, Jen, Gabe, Kate, Annie, Sugar and Lizzie

The Words in our Home ~ Jen

When I was in 10^th grade, I read the first aphorism—or proverb—that changed my life. It was hanging out right in the middle of Act I of Shakepeare’s Julius Caesar. Cassius says to Brutus “Men at some times are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in the stars, but in ourselves that we are underlings” (Act 1, Scene 2, 140-143).

Yeah, I know what Cassius and Brutus went on to do, and I know that in the tenth circle of hell, Satan is chewing on Brutus for eternity. But that’s not the point.

The point is that my 15 year old self was rocked by the divine literary affirmation of what my parents had been telling me: my life was mine, every triumph, mistake and consequence. All mine to make or break. Intoxicating. Empowering.

As a teacher I put aphorisms around my classroom, in print that was big enough to read from across the room, but only if you really focused. I never called attention to them. Aphorisms need to be mulled over a few times. I waited for the students to ask me. And in drips and dribbles, over the course of the year, kids would come to me and say “Can I ask you what this means?” To which I always answered “First, tell me what you think it means”.

I’ve done the same thing in our home. Only Gabriel can read, and he’s probably too young for Ben Franklin, but I want the words to be a fixture in our home, familiar, like old friends. I want the words to be there for the day they lose a game, or get a D, or fight with their friend. Something to mull over. To help them figure it all out.

Because sometimes the answers to life’s questions can be tied up in one tidy, historically, philosophically or spiritually significant saying.

Here they are!*

This was the first sign Shea and I got when we married. It was a gift from my sister-in-laws parents and had hung in our kitchen since the day we moved in. — This was the first sign Shea and I got when we married. It was a gift from my sister-in-law’s parents and has hung in our kitchen since the day we moved in.

This hangs in our guest bathroom. Gotta love Mr. Franklin!

This sign hung over the window in the nursery for all three babies. From "Guess How Much I Love You". I never want my kids to doubt! — This sign hung over the window in the nursery for all three babies. From “Guess How Much I Love You”. I never want my kids to doubt!

We put this in the living room, along with the S, which is our family initial. We are proud to be children of God.

I've had this one in my home in some form or fashion for almost twenty years. This MOVES me. — I’ve had this one in my home in some form or fashion for almost twenty years. This MOVES me.

I bought these as favors for Anne's baby shower. There have never been sisters in my family before, and I wanted to let the important women in my life know that I learned about sisterhood from them. This is who we try to be. — I bought these as favors for Anne’s baby shower. There have never been sisters in my family before, and I wanted to let the important women in my life know that I learned about sisterhood from them. This is who we try to be.

This one kind of speaks for itself. But we want our kids to know we have faith in them.

I got this one at Kohls. Gabriel quotes it at Kate sometimes, which makes me smile.

This one is going upstairs between the kids' bedrooms. Simple. — This one is going upstairs between the kids’ bedrooms. Simple.

This is our newest sign, purchased from Shutterfly for Shea for Father's Day. Love it! — This is our newest sign, purchased from Shutterfly for Father’s Day. Love it!

Of course, the most important words in our home are contained in our family Bible, which normally lives on our hutch, right within easy reach. But since we are currently short a hutch, it’s in the cupboard next to the phonebook, which is pretty appropriate if you think about it.

I am sure as the years go on, I will add or switch some of the hanging words in our home. Maybe (dream of dreams) the kids will add some of their own eventually. Either way, I hope we are always a family of words, spoken and hanging.

*The wooden signs were made for us by my sister-in-law’s mother, Karen Shoemaker. Her work can be found at www.shabbyshoesigns.com.

Powerful Grace ~ Jen

We just got home from a wonderful vacation, courtesy of Shea and State Farm. We spent six nights at the Walt Disney World Yacht Club resort with hundreds of other rock star State Farm dads and moms and their families.

I have two stories from our trip that I want to share. This one is a Here moment. The next one is a “This stuff only happens to Jen” story. Stay tuned for that Friday. Unless you have a weak stomach.

Two years ago, we were at the same hotel for the same week at the same State Farm event. I was a year out from my cancer surgery and treatment. We had been cleared to try for our third baby, but four months had passed with no results.

Everywhere I looked there were babies and pregnant moms, and my heart ached. After four months of trying, which was longer than it took with Gabe and Kate, it was hard not to feel defeated, and angry at my cancer and my age. Shea had worked hard for the trip and the kids were super excited, so every day I took a deep breath and made my outsides look happy.

It wasn’t that hard to do, in the relaxing lap of Disney luxury and with the joyful noise of my kids’ laughter. But there was a film over that vacation that darkened it just a bit.

Thankfully, we had our third baby. Her due date was nine months to the day after we arrived at Walt Disney World.

Last week, when we walked into the lobby of the same hotel, a wave of anxiety and longing swept over me. The feeling stayed with me when we swam at the pool that night, surrounded again by babies and pregnant women. It wasn’t until the next morning, as Annie toddled around the lobby and Shea said “Look how big she’s getting” that I realized I was holding my breath, just like two years ago, waiting for something and scared that it wouldn’t happen.

But there she was, dragging her blankie across the floor and smiling up at the bell captain.

And my heart quieted. It was a moment of powerful Grace.

I have struggled with the knowledge that we could be done having kids. Even with three c-sections and cancer and postpartum anxiety and the fact that Annie just…won’t…wean, I thought maybe there would be time for one more. The longing was not as strong or loud as last time, but it was there. I prayed over the last year to know if the longing was mine alone, or placed in my heart by God. And I also asked that if another child was not in The Plan for us, could God please remove the longing from my heart?

I prayed for contentment.

I guess sacred moments don’t always happen in sacred spaces. Or maybe sacred moments make places like hotel lobbies sacred. Either way, in the middle of the Yacht Club lobby at Walt Disney World, my prayer was answered. I saw my family, and I knew it was enough. More than enough. I understood that God’s plan is for us to move on to the next phase, that there is something else coming our way.

It’s the end of the having phase of our parenting. Now we move on to the raising part.

And the space in my heart where the longing used to be is peacefully empty. It’s reserved. I don’t know for what or who, but it’s ok not to know.

I am contently*waiting for the something else while I thank God for answered prayers and moments of Grace.

*I think I made a word up right there. But you know Dana and I used to be English teachers, which totally qualifies us to make words up. For reals.

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