Caught in the Rain

Caught in the rain. Summer rains here in Iowa, this year in this drought, when we have prayed, begged, and pleaded for relief from the dry and heat, came today. It was only an hour and my children had just headed out to play on the play fort and swings. When I heard the rain start, I headed out to carry Isaac inside, knowing it would be slick and he's still learning to be sure footed on the grass and gravel. I was worried he would be scared too.

Half way there, I spotted all three of my children, laughing and snuggled up under the tarp on their play fort. Lily with her arm around Isaac, was laughing and pointing about something I could not translate in my distance.

I stood there, in the rain, soft and gentle and warm, and watched my children love each other and be completely in that moment. Suddenly I felt like I was invading their moment and I quietly, gratefully headed back inside. The full hour that the rain fell, I watched them passively out the window as I cleaned and organised their art supplies with Jessica.

Today, I am grateful that they can take care of each other, that they snuggle and include Isaac in the magical play that happens in their secret world of faeries and dragons and fantasy. Today started out stormy and ended with grace, forgiveness, and love.

Too many people are held back from moving forward by fear of the rain or they shelter others from venturing out, even though it is perfectly safe. Not all storms are hurricanes, not all blue skies are perfectly safe either. If we move through life afraid of the worst always, we lose such precious gifts that quiet moments offer us.

Today was a reminder of that.

So many years ago, I woke up to a hotel room alarm that turned the television on. We were staying at the Julienne Hotel in Dubuque and needed to get up early for the days work. The image on the television was of a burning tower, a skyscraper, panic, fire. I sat up and watched, thinking it was a science fiction movie. We (the lady I was partnered with for work) watched as the second plane hit, through the collapse of both. I called Chad and he hung up on me thinking I was pranking him, this early in the morning (he worked nights).

I wish I was.

We were stranded in Dubuque because of car troubles. Through my absolute panic, I just wanted to be home and couldn't be. We called the central office and begged for someone to come get us, but they were not sure that sending more state employees out right then was a good idea.

Soon our supervisor was on his way personally. He had a daughter our age, on the east coast, who had not called home and driving out to get us would keep his mind busy. No cell phone, we delivered the message to him on arrival as the office had called the hotel, that she called and was ok.

He sat down in the hotel lobby and cried. That was when I knew that my fears were real. This was a great and tragic moment in history. Enormous, changing our lives forever.

Soon after, our jobs as interns were eliminated. Collecting GPS of important and significant buildings was now dangerous to do and dangerous for the greater good. We were chased out of one small town by a guy with a shotgun on a small farm tractor. Another small town resident called the FBI on our surveillance crew. Just a few weeks later, we were let go. My dream job, slipped through my fingers and it seemed a small loss compared to what was happening around the world.

America has been in a perpetual war ever since, at war with the world and with each other.

Tonight, as every night since, I pray for peace. I pray in those lovely moments with my children that the world they will inherit will not be blood soaked ashes. I pray that my family members who bravely serve, will not be called out yet again to fight more of this war, though they will, proudly. I pray for their children too. I pray for the refugees and the survivors.

I pray for peace, not just on this anniversary, but every day. Please God, please intervene and bring peace to our world.

Fresh From the Garden

(see full image)

Creative Space

The view from or of my work spaces. This is where I write or think about what I will write.

What does your workspace look like? What would you like it to look like?

Modern Day Code Switching

Recently there was a criminal trial that highlighted the problems with local dialects, and the heavy prejudice against folks who speak with them and do not learn to "code switch" and use formal language instead.

This got me thinking again about a problem I started seeing in my classes last year. Students are starting to use less formal language in their written work and communications, a short hand, but also a changing grammar.

I tell folks who come to me with their children wanting them to write better and the adults in my classes this: you write with the style that you read, you speak with the style you hear. If you spend most of your day reading casual facebook posts, your writing will reflect that. If you spend your day reading news articles, like that (ignoring the oxford comma is a clear indication of this). If you spend your days reading Victorian era novels you might be inclined to spell colour and favourite with u and the like (guilty of this!). What you input into your knowledge base daily has an effect on output.

Need more examples? I am writing a blog post, I'll pull from my drafts for this example.   

My left big toe has been a fracking miserable nightmare for the last 3 and a 1/2 years. Not always. But when it flares up or becomes a nuisance it does so with such dramatic and pathetic flare that I have to work hard to not let it take over my otherwise lovely life. And it is annoying. And driving me nuts.

It started with a pig stepping on it and cracking the nail bed. Then infection. Then I had to have the nail surgically removed. Then it grew back wrong. Antibiotics. A year soaked in ointment and bandages. Then just when I thought it had gone away, BAM, gout.

When my doctor wisely told me to give up bacon and spinach, I told him to cut the toe off. Heck, severe my entire foot instead. I really love bacon. Ok, um, not really that much, but I found that daily shots of cherry juice holds the gout in check well enough. And I am not. Giving. Up. Bacon. Ever.

Sounds cool, right? A blog post is a lot less formal typically. However, I can see right here that other blog posts I read are changing my own writing style. That would be fine if I wasn't using my blog to compile material for a book. This kind of writing is not acceptable on a professional level either.

Why? Look at it closer. Look at all the fragments and incomplete sentences! Grammar be damned! Never ever start a sentence with And. Using ok and um is really unprofessional too, that is fine for speaking and more casual communication, but you should never have to write the word um unless you are directly quoting someone and either have to do a complete accurate transcript or if you are trying to convey they are less intelligent by manner of speech.

Then, suddenly, yesterday a giant sore appeared on the tip. A line like a blister or a burn. But weeping and near bloody. I cleaned it up hoped it would go away, usually ignoring things that are just slightly annoying and pathetic attempts at creating strife and drama is the way to handle it.

But no. It was worse in the morning, begging for attention, making today all about the toe. Stealing my thoughts and energy away from more important things like the life I live and the work I do that satisfies my soul. Toes that are in pain tend to create drama to distract themselves from real pain and infection. It is easier than healing I suppose, and I suspect that it enjoys the extra attention. Stupid toe.

What would soothe this tar ball of a nuisance? A pedicure? A special soak? Attention that it so clearly desires? Maybe another blog post about how my toe is ruining my life would make the situation better? Oh wait, I have never written a blog post about my toe. Huh.

Add to the list a rule to also not start a sentence with the word but,  fragments hanging there that could easily be edited into real fluid sentences that are not grammatical stabbings at the fabric of good writing.

So I go back to my gentle approach. Ignore it mostly, send healing thoughts, salve, and care. Love my big, horrible, annoying, pathetic toe just like I love the rest of my body. It just is what and who it is and there is no amount of whining about it that will change it. Sad but true. It is just one of a community of ten toes on my feet, one toe in the billions of toes in my life. All those toes unique and dealing with different terrain and shoes and journeys.

Hopefully, a pair of new shoes and a swim in the pond with my babies will help it feel better. Maybe I just need to air it out a bit, let it be, and lay in the grass in the sunshine. Maybe it is just going through a tough time and wants to distract itself from some real hurt that isn't as obvious to the other toes yet. Maybe it is jealous that my right foot never gets stepped on even though it has a genetic defect that makes it webbed. Maybe it is tired from being in constant pain too.

I have learned a lot from my feet. They carry me on my adventures. I wash them with care. My daughters love to paint my toes with varnish paint and I let them even though I hate the way it looks. I love how happy it makes them. I will continue to have patience. I will continue to carry this burden and pain with me and not let it take over my days, pray for peace and healing. If I become as blistered and festering as that poor toe, if I let the infection spread, then I have lost all that I hold dear and I will become a burden to my friends and family, annoying them, as this toe annoys me.

There are many ways to improve the whole blog entry and not actually publishing it is the first one that comes to mind. First, it doesn't fit with the content of my blog. Second, it is crazy boring to read about a festering toe.

So to summarise:
Don't use fragments as a style choice and then think it reads like decent writing.
Do not use conversational pauses like um, ok, and meh and think it reads like decent writing.
Do not write about crap even if it is my internal narrative, or do but keep it in the draft folder, please.

Those are not rules for the blogging world, these are new rules for me. These are what I keep in mind as I am writing daily now. My draft folder is growing, but slowly I am clearing out all the muck and grime, grease and slime. I want to write well, be taken seriously, and to generally regain my own skills. There are a lot of funny, smart successful bloggers that bend and break these rules everyday. I would not change their writing even one bit. It bothers me when I do it and it is an easy fix for students to follow these rules and write better academically. I am still making these errors, even in writing this. I see how hilarious that is. I am still always a work in progress.

That's my 5 minute lecture I gave a student the other day.