20.5

Right now I am liking the number 26.2 a lot more than 20.5

20.5 is the number of days I have left to teach before I get married.  

I don't really like that number.  

I would much rather run 26.2 miles and deal with the physical exhaustion of a marathon than the emotional exhaustion of knowing I only have 20.5 days left of teaching.  It is taking it's toll.  

and I haven't even told the kids I'm leaving.  

I can't.  
It's too hard. 
Not Yet. 

I know I can run 26.2 and survive and even feel good after finishing. 
I'm not so sure I can teach for only 20.5 more days and survive.  

I've taught for 2038.5 days (approximately) in my life as a teacher.  

That is a lot of 
days. 
a lot of 
kids
a lot of 
parents
a lot of 
friends
a lot of 
time spent loving what I do.  

However, 

I'll love what I get to do after December 21st too.  

I have no doubt about that.  
Now I'll have 2 little girls to love day in and day out.   

It will take some adjusting. 

I am sure that there will be tears.  

but

a mom is always what I've always dreamed of being. 

a teacher is what I have been.  

Being able to love children is a gift I have been given. 

and 
I'll keep using that gift

Forever.  

A lot more than 20.5 days
A lot more than 2038.5 days.  

Eternity.  

I've got eternity to keep on loving children and teaching them. 
and I'll start with Natalie and Lauren.  

I know they will keep me more than busy

and happier than ever.  














and the other 198 kids I've taught over the years, 

They'll always be a part of me and hopefully I'll always be a part of them.  

20.5





 

who apparently doesn't do birthdays

So today was Eric's birthday.  

Do you think I did anything nice.
I mean that is what a fiance would do right?  

Nope.

I didn't. 

I basically had a melt-down.
After I told him happy birthday of course and then burst into tears for not doing anything nice for his birthday.
He did exactly what I wanted him to for my birthday.
I did exactly nothing for his.

Sometimes moving and quitting my job and getting married and having someone who loves me for me is all just too much for me to process all at once.
I get home from a marathon day after it is long past dark.
I keep working just waiting for his phone call and thinking I can't wait to talk to him.
And then I hear his voice and I lose it.
And then I wish I could hold it together.
for just one day. one short day.
That probably would have been the best birthday present I could have given him.

Apparently, that is asking too much.

If Eric survives me for the next 44 days it will be nothing short of a miracle.  
MIRACLE. in all caps.

Good thing Eric is forgiving. 
I'm not so gracious with myself. 

In any case:

He is patient when I am not.
He can joke when I need to laugh. 
He can tell when I am not quite ready to say goodnight.
He makes changes to his schedule to accomodate mine.
He makes himself his own birthday dinner and plays the wii with his girls.
He doesn't care about "things" and yet he is willing to put up with all of mine that is getting shipped to Oregon tomorrow.
He always calls me. I never have to call him.
He is understanding. 
He is handsome.
He has more mental willpower than anyone I have ever met.
He knows what to say and when to say it.
He tells me he can't read my mind, but he does a pretty good job of reading my heart.
He lets me cry.
He doesn't cry.
He doesn't hold grudges.
He shops at Walmart.  
He smiles. a lot.
He laughs at his mistakes (which he doesn't make a whole lot of). 
He loves his family.
He works hard everyday and extra hard during tax season.
He is always learning something new.
He runs (but not quite as fast as me)
He encourages me to be me.
He serves at church and in his home.
He doesn't care that his chest is bigger than mine. 
He looks great in an old t-shirt and jeans. 
He budgets the money.
He loves my short hair.
He gets along with my family.
He asks good questions and thinks logically when I can't.
He treats every single day like a new day. 
He watches the Ducks play football all. the. time.
(except for that one time that I booked a flight out during a bowl game -- oops) 
He has "refined" taste in what he eats.
He is working on being more romantic.for me. 
He loves me. . . . all of me.  

and a lot of other things, but I got to 36 and I should probably stop or else you are all going to think that he is like 60 years old (because isn't that what you are suppose to do. . . . write one thing you love about someone for every year of their life!?)

I guess that even if I don't do birthdays at least I blog.
and maybe he will read this and forgive me for being so lame.
and act really excited when I bring his present to him next week when I go visit for Thanksgiving.

who is homeless

Once, when I was in 9th grade I wrote a "research paper"
It was the first research paper I ever wrote.  

I used the card catalog in the Pleasant Grove Junior High school library to find books 

(using the dewey decimal system) 

about being homeless.

I am sure that my carefully gathered facts from outdated, not peer reviewed journals and books are long past outdated (That was 19 years ago. . . . but that is beside the point).

Now I am homeless.  

sort of.

I have numerous houses where I can sleep, shower, eat and put my stuff. 
They just aren't MY home. 
Who knew that you could get so attached to a piece of land and a few walls and cupboards.

I did. 

It is hard moving. 
Not physically hard (because I am so tough). 
Emotionally hard. 
Lonely hard. 
Reflective of the life you have built for yourself kind of hard.  

My house was built out of lumber and a few thousand nails and screws and paint and drywall and lots of labor.  It was transformed into a home by each one of you. 

The friends and family members who shared their love with me by celebrating, visiting, cleaning, decorating, stopping and always being right by my side. 
The presidencies I served in that held meetings, filled with the spirit.
The YW who treated my home with respect and admiration. 
Everyone whose laughter and tears, successes and failures, heartbreak and joy, but most of all spirit made my house a home.  

 President Thomas S. Monson said: 

"A home is much more than a house built of lumber, brick, or stone. A home is made of love, sacrifice, and respect. We are responsible for the homes we build. We must build wisely, for eternity is not a short voyage. There will be calm and wind, sunlight and shadows, joy and sorrow. But if we really try, our home can be a bit of heaven here on earth. The thoughts we think, the deeds we do, the lives we live not only influence the success of our earthly journey, they also mark the way to our eternal goals."

Soon I will be moving and forming a new life and home in Oregon.

It is exciting moving.
To be starting a whole new phase of life.
Anxious
Looking forward to a whole new phase of life.

A time when I won't be homeless.

And home will hold a deeper meaning then it ever has before because home will be filled with people I love. Again.  

People who will
laugh with me
cry with me
learn with me
and love me.  

It will be not "my home" but "our home"

Two little words never sounded so good. Truly, it will be Heaven on Earth.