It's Saturday morning; I'm awake and making plans for the day, the rest of the weekend, and next week. I have to go back to school. Tony went back last Thursday, so he has already faced that giant. Unfortunately I have too much experience with going back to school the day after a loss. I work with a group of the most remarkable people, people who have helped me in ways that I didn't even know I needed help. The thing is, I teach teenagers, sweet ones and not-so-sweet ones. I'm not the least bit worried about the students I have in class. They will be kind and patient with me. It's the goofballs in the halls, the cafeteria, etc. that I am concerned with. I'm pretty certain one of them will do something to remind me that I am back in the real world. How will I react? Pray for me that I will handle all situations with dignity and respect toward the students, the staff, faculty and my administration. My feelings are tender--it doesn't take much for me to cry. I don't want to cry at school.
Next week is Homecoming Week, a fun, exciting week for the students. I certainly don't want to put a pall on the events. These students deserve a fun week--an opportunity to make memories.
When Jason was in high school, Sherri Peckham, Sue Stafford, and I were their class sponsors. I didn't join them until they were juniors, so I wasn't with them all four years, but those last two were a blast.
He graduated with the class known at "those sweet kids." They started school in kindergarten the year before the date for enteringing school changed from November to September, so they had small class-always. I can't explain it, but it makes sense that they had a small graduating class compared to the other classes in school. For football homecoming we built floats. We built them in the ag barn, but the only problem we had was getting them to the parade in one piece. Junior year homecoming was at the same time as the OKC fair, so only Keli, Stroud, and Cheri Westervelt and I showed up on the first day to build the base. That thing had more nails--long nails--than you would need to build a house. I think we finally had to call for help--can't remember. We made a giant toilet seat with a skirt that said "Flush the____________". The toilet fell apart on the way to the parade. It was one of my sweetest memories becaused we laughed so hard. We didn't win the float contest.
During their senior year Jon Davis helped us. He could create anything out of chicken wire, so we had a huge Tazmanian Devil that rotated. Everyone joined in to help that year, and the float made it all the way to the parade. That was a blast. Does anyone remember, did we win?
Basketball homecoming was an event. His junior year we built a huge octopus out of baloons. It was the funniest thing I have ever seen. As the band played "Under the Sea" We took the huge octopus out to the middle of the gym floor. It took nine people to set it up. Its head was a giant balloon with eyes attached. When we got it situated on the floor the way we wanted it, I backed away. His giant baloon head had been twisted when we had it stored in the room with the wrestling mats, so his head had to make a couple of spins around the room to get right. It slowly looked around to the rhythm of the music. We couldn't have made it do that if we wanted to. It was hilarious. I'm so fortunate to have been a part of Jason's friends in that way. The only time I was ready to kill them all was after the Senior Picnic. At that time the tradition was to have a picnic after graduation practice on the day of graduation. We went to practice, did well, went out to Tecumseh Lake and had a nice picnic, went well. The only problem was--we couldn't get them to leave. They were playing volleyball, and wouldn't stop. As moms Sherri, Sue, and I all had things to do and needed the party to be over, but it wouldn't end. I'm so glad they stayed and played--we all made it to graduation, everyone had on what they were supposed to wear, it all went great. I stressed for nothing.
Thank all of you who are praying for me. I can't put it into words, but I feel His touch on occasion-just when I need it.
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I know how you feel. After my father died I thought the world should have come to a hault, but it didn't and that made me just want to rant and rave all over the place. But I hade to keep it together for my step-mother. I brought the two of us closer together and my real mom and I farther apart. People told me that it would get better and easier, but it realy doesn't you just dont get usted to it. I sometimes still think that every other weekend that I go to his house. I hear things, read thing, and see things that make me think of him and I cry. I'm not telling you this to make you cry or feel sorry for me, I just wanted to tell you how I feel and that you are not alone.
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