2024: A Brown Family Year in Review

 In case any of you have wondered what we're up to...

And some things you just can't speak about.

Once upon a time (during the 2020-2021 school year), the Central Cove coordinator decided she was retiring - and was encouraging some of us to apply.  None of us had ANY desire to take it on.  I was perfectly happy with my current gig - leading an amazing speech team in helping preschoolers communicate.  Still, the pressure was there for one of us to fall on our sword - something about the devil you know...?  Anyway, I'd been thinking about it, rationally making pros and cons lists, talking to relevant parties (Miss Tami, who was retiring, SPED director, my family) and praying (mostly to confirm that it was, in fact, a great job for someone else).  Long story short, I was waffling.  But one afternoon I was sitting in a Team Leader Meeting (which typically left me questioning even staying at the preschool at all - I'd always leave feeling overwhelmed and burdened and discouraged).  This particular day, however, a strange and unfamiliar sensation came over me - peaceful calm and tranquility - accompanied by this though, "You could do this.  You SHOULD do this."  It was a distinct, clear moment - one I could no longer argue with.  And a few days later another of my colleagues said that during the same meeting she had looked over at me and thought, "This should be Erin.  I wonder what she's thinking."  

And thus began the rollercoaster that is my relationship with this new position: Principal and SPED Preschool Coordinator at Central Cove Preschool: constant pulling, pushing, climbing and flipping of having strong impressions and guidance to questioning why I ever thought I could (or should) attempt it.  And feeling like I have no clue how.  There have been Nephi moments (where I know I'm supposed to "build a ship" and receive inspiration about how that might look or what I should do) and definite Laman and Lemuel moments (mocking myself for even thinking that I could attempt such a new endeavor).  Still, I always am confident in my knowledge that Heavenly Father knows and loves all his children - including the littles (and grown ups) in my charge and helping them is important to Him.  So I pray and think and plan and design and ask for help and continue.  And so it continues.

With this context, fast forward to this past Wednesday when I (again) left staff meeting ready to walk away.  This resulted in a ranting email (to myself) beginning with all the ways I'm failing as an administrator and coming around 180 degrees to how frustrated I was with staff members.  I had an epiphany (see what I did there with the post title): I can't fix everything.  I get feedback, which I appreciate and consider, but when I'm trying for "all of the people all of the time" it begins to feel more like "none of the people none of the time."  I can't fix it all.  And maybe I've been helicoptering or bulldozing in trying.  Maybe there needs to be some productive struggle by some other people to solve their own problems and reduce their own stress.  I know I care too much about too much.  Maybe PANDAS Mama needs to rear her cold, detached, seemingly compassionless head for my staff.  The matter-of-fact,-no-nonsense,- "what-do-you-need-to-do-next-to-be-effective?"-make-a-list,-you-can-figure-it-out,-I-can't-just-tell-you me may be in order.  I was at a low, but I think the ranting email was therapeutic.  And maybe I don't need to carry so much guilt and responsibility for reducing everyone else's stress.  And then I was able to help Niccole and Kelli through similar thoughts and frustrations the next day with some of the "I can't care so much" advice.  So maybe the experience was of some benefit.

(And, not directly related, but sort of...this week I was thinking about how Jesus teaches.  He often uses an approach called "gradual release" in the education world: I do --> We do --> You do.  And He learned it from His Father.  "....that which ye see me do." "....given you an example." "....ye have seen...even so shall ye..."  He is with us always, but it is never forced.  He does not bulldoze.  He shows, He explains, He teaches, He instructs, He helps, He comforts, He supports, He inspires.  But at some point, He has to stand back and let us/expect us to DO.  Just thought it was an interesting comparison to a concept I understand.)

I think my current job is an extension of my parenting experience - lots of things I should be learning along the way and need so many repetitions and opportunities for practice.  I can only imagine that it's tempting to bulldoze with me.  I feel sluggish and slow to learn so much of the time.  But I am thankful that He continues to gradually release - I definitely feel like there is a lot of "WE do" still on my plate and I am grateful for that.  

The Sum of Its Parts

Recently, I've been contemplating the course of the last few years of my life.  Not really sure if the whole is greater, but the sum is adding up...

So much is different for me, personally, and for our family since I began to chronicle our family adventures in 2009:

We've lost a child and had a child.

We sold a house and rented a house and built a house.

We've resigned jobs and started jobs and changed jobs and locations.

We've sent a child to kindergarten and to college and on a mission.

I've finished two graduate programs.

We got a dog (and two new birds after Jack died).

We've experienced health problems and complications and global pandemic.

And many resolutions.

Then, we were living in Arlington, Tennessee, experiencing tornado sirens and drills and humidity and cicadas, and fireflies - all things that were new to me.  We had spent years in or near an urban center and were used to variety in food options, medical specialists, Arts events, museums, zoo and other family learning opportunities.  And far from family.

Now, we are living in Vernal, Utah, surrounded by desert and reservoirs and humidifiers and prairie dogs and Sandhill Cranes (my favorite backyard neighbors).  We are definitely not in an urban area (3 1/2 hours from anywhere) and spend lots of time on the road traveling to "the city" for concerts, performances, specialists appointments (which apparently didn't end when Ian died), and enjoying a variety of food options on the way.  And much nearer to family.

Then, I had two very busy (a.k.a. silly and wild) kiddos at home - a boy and a girl - the 7 year old who was declining in motor ability and the 5 year old quickly taking the lead on becoming the "big" sister.   

Now, I have two children on "missions" (Ian in Heaven and Anya in the Maryland, Baltimore mission) and one sort of busy 8 (going on 16) year old at home, leaving me to wonder how people with multiple children balance more than just piano, swimming and choir activities.  Izzi is our biggest social butterfly and feels the loneliness of being the "only child" with her parents. I love my family. And hope I'm up to meeting their needs.

Then, Clayton was teaching in a more prestigious position at Rhodes College - and was miserable.

Now, he has found a less high-profile fit at USU's Uintah Basin campus - and is far happier.

Then, I was a stay at home mom with a small but thriving music "studio".  I was leading Mistletones or Spring Singers, I was teaching preschool-age Music Makers classes at the Arlington community center, and teaching some piano lessons.

Now, I'm going into my fourth year as the principal of our district's preschool (with a couple of years back in the classroom and eight years as an SLP at the preschool behind me) and have "adopted" over 200 kiddos each year.  Next year we'll move from an 84 year old building into an amazing brand new preschool and I've had the privilege of being part of the vision and design (of the building and the program). It's crazy and busy and overwhelming and exciting and intimidating.  And I hope I'm up to the task.

Then, I was in the middle of the 20 years I've spent in Primary (13+ as chorister).  I was choir director and ward music chair, and one of the 4 rotating organists.

Now, I'm enjoying teaching 11 and 12 year olds in Sunday School, feeling rather out of my depth.  And hoping I'm up to the task.

.  

As I think of all the twists and turns and phases of my life - the people and experiences and places (can you name each one pictured above?) - I feel blessed and thankful for the guiding hand that has place opportunities for me to develop all these parts.  They do add up to make me who I am - the good, the bad, the ugly, the confident, the less-than-adequate, the creative, the bewildered, the organized, the overwhelmed, the messy - all accumulate to form the Erin I'm becoming.  The texture and depth of my life is far richer than it would have been without these experiences and I hope that I've used (and am using) them as was intended when the gift was given.

I share this reflection only to pause to appreciate and to give context (to any reader but mostly for myself) as I record the next adventures to come.  I am blessed and thankful (and still a bit apprehensive).