Experiencing the Power of Language

It started as a simple search for an outlet. I just needed to plug my laptop in so I could charge it. 

"Excuse me," I asked the Mc Donald's employee who was diligently sweeping the floors nearby, "Do you know where I could find an outlet to plug my laptop in?" 

She looked startled. Then, hesitantly, she replied, "uh....me....no English..." 

"¿Hablas español?" I inquired. 

At first, she seemed startled. Then, there was a light that sparked in her eyes. 

I repeated my earlier question, this time in Spanish, and she immediately helped me find an outlet for my laptop. 

Fifteen minutes later, we were still talking about her family. She told me about her daughter, a lawyer, who lives in the United States, and another one who is studying to become a teacher by taking online classes at a university in Mexico. I learned about her grand kids who still reside in Mexico. She asked about me...what I did and where I studied. We were two complete strangers but in that moment, we were connected by a common bond. 

In that tiny slice of life today, I was reminded of the power of language. Language connects us to each other. Knowing more than one language isn't about becoming more marketable or about making us looking better on a resume, but about possessing the ability to connect with an entirely different group of people. 

This morning, I am thankful for language and the wonderful opportunities I have had to study the languages of other countries. I am thankful that today it allowed me to connect with a kind woman from Mexico and I hope that maybe, just maybe, I was able to be a bright spot in her day, as she was in mine. 

The Phone Call That Made Me Reflect on My Inspirational 5th-Grade Teacher

My phone rang at 7:22 this morning. Curious, I looked at the caller ID to see that it was my sister calling. "H. is calling me at 7:22 in the morning....something must be wrong..." I immediately thought. Before I could let my brain race through the list of potentially horrible events that must have happened in order for her to be calling earlier than possibly ever before, I picked up the phone anxiously.

"Hey..." I answered, tentatively, waiting for the bomb to drop.
"Hey!" 

The enthusiasm in her voice was far too chipper for something to be wrong. Could it be that she just wanted to chat at the beginning of our days, rather than on our way home from work like we often do? Maybe the pregnancy is messing with her body's clock. 

"I was just listening to the radio in the car and heard that there is this new app you can get on an iphone that transfers smells!" she exclaimed.

My tension released. A few days ago, I had asked her to describe a smell to me of a substance I had never smelled before. Have you ever tried to do that? It's hard! Anyway, in light of our recent conversation, this radiomercial was just too intriguing to not call this morning.

Arriving at her destination, she had to hang up almost immediately, but although our conversation was short-lived, my thoughts about it were not. 

Apparently, this "Scentee" accessory that can be plugged into a smartphone to emit smells is not as new as we had thought. (We're not incredibly tech-savvy in my family.) It is pretty incredible, though.

I started thinking about the person who developed this nifty little tool. What kind of reaction did he get when first shared his idea with his friends or teachers? 

I can almost picture it:
"I'm thinking of developing a device that will let you send smells to your friends through a smartphone!" 
Cue the laughter.

I bet it sounded absurd to the first people who heard the inventor's idea. But along the way, someone believed in him. Someone had to help him make his dream become a reality.

I was brought back to my fifth grade teacher, Mrs. C. I can remember clear as day when she asked us to create a plan for any invention we would like to make in the future. "Be creative. Dream big!" she told us. After giving us time to design our inventions, she then conferenced with each of us about what we had created.

My dream invention was a car that could drive itself. I will never forget that response I got from Mrs. C in our conference.

She didn't laugh or say, "Now, wouldn't that be great?" No, she encouraged me to do it! 

My little 5th-grade self was shocked. I'll admit, I thought she was a little crazy. "Me, build a car that can drive itself? Riiiiggght." But Mrs. C persisted. She encouraged my dream, explaining that if I wanted to build this invention, I could do it! 

She spoke with certainty. She spoke with belief. She spoke with inspiration.  

I may have left my self-driving car dream back in that 5th-grade classroom (Google found it and made it a reality, though!). However, I will never forget the confidence that Mrs. C showed in me that afternoon. I walked out of that classroom a little taller that day. Someone truly believed in me and was confident that I could do great things.

Thank you, Mrs. C., wherever you are. I no longer dream of making cars that can drive themselves, but I do dream of inspiring students the way you inspired me. 

A New Year's Resolution Redo

I'd like to request a mulligan on my New Year's resolutions. I need a second chance to start over, bring my theoretical ball back to the beginning of the course and take another crack at swinging successfully. Is that allowed?

You see, sixty three days ago, I decided perform an act that is very uncharacteristic of me. I created a list of New Year's resolutions. I can't remember the last time I made a single New Year's resolution. That's not to say that I don't constantly seek to improve in various areas of my life, but I have just always avoided the formality of calling it a "New Year's resolution." I'm not sure what came over me this year, but I caught an intensified version of the bug everyone else seems to catch at that time of year and I sat down to write some goals for 2014. 

When I finished, I had composed a document of 35 New Year's resolutions. That's right...thirty five...organized into five different sub-categories. A bit excessive, right? When I do something, I apparently go all out. 

The document I created that day mocks me from my computer's desktop, causing me to cringe each time I acknowledge how many of those 35 resolutions I've already given up on. My motivation to keep such specific goals waned as soon as I experienced my first failure(s). 

However, I refuse to let my failure over the course of the last 63 days dictate how I will live the next 302. I recently read a quote by Oswald Chambers that convicted me: "Never let the sense of failure corrupt your new action." 

So, it is with Oswald Chambers' words running through my mind that I am requesting my New Year's resolutions mulligan. 

This semester, I have been observing a currently-practicing ESL teacher as part of my graduate coursework. I seem to learn new things from her each day I am in her class, but one thing I learned of in the beginning of the year was a new (or at least new to me) "trend" of making a one-word New Year's resolution. Rather than creating a laundry list of goals that are easily forgotten and forsaken, the idea is to embrace one single word that describes how you want to live and the kind of person you want to be. 

Inspired by this teacher and neat concept, I have been pondering this idea for the last month or so and have decided that it is one I want to embrace. I have "tried on" various words, but one that keeps coming back to me is: 

persist 

Dictionary.com tells me that to "persist" is to "continue steadfastly or firmly in some state of purpose, course of action, or the like, especially in spite of opposition, remonstrance, etc."

I want 2014 to be a year characterized by my continual, steadfast pursuit of becoming the Christian, wife, daughter, friend, teacher, learner, reader, writer, runner, cyclist, chef...and all-around person I want to ultimately be. 

Sometimes, I will fail. But failing to perfectly fulfill a New Year's resolution is not going to be enough to keep me from persisting on toward my goals. 

6 Benefits of "Apartment Living"

My husband and I have lived in two different apartments in the 4.5 years we have been married. We have loved both but have recently started feeling ready to "move up" in the world and into a house. I'm not sure what exactly the catalyst was that pushed us over the edge, but the desire has been growing stronger and stronger all the time.

Perhaps it's just the feeling that we are getting to "that point" in our lives. 
Perhaps it's my desire to expand our family... by getting a puppy (sorry Mom, no baby yet...). 
Perhaps it's the idea of hosting a big family holiday event in our home.
Perhaps it's the notion of decking out an entire house in Pinterest-y crafts 
Perhaps it's our neighbor's need to serenade us with his thundering rap music every day and night.    

Or maybe it's a combination of all of those things, mixed in with a plethora of other miscellaneous reasons.

Regardless, Hubby and I spent our Saturday townhouse hunting. It was a Goldilocks-type adventure, with homes that were too old, too cramped, or too expensive. Unfortunately, unlike Goldilocks, who eventually found a place to lay her head that was "just right," we did not have such success.

At first, I was feeling a bit discouraged, but I then realized how many reasons I have to be thankful and what a wonderful home we really do have. We are so unbelievably fortunate and I can truly say that we have been blessed beyond belief.

It could be years before we move into a house and if it takes that long, that is totally fine! I honestly have more than I could ever deserve (material and immaterial).

So, in the spirit of being thankful for what I have and blooming where I'm planted, here are 6 Benefits of Apartment Living:

(*Disclaimer* Most of these are intended to be somewhat tongue-in-cheek. I by no means think that my reasons to be thankful are limited to the things listed below.)

It saves time. 
Living in a smaller space definitely saves time when it comes to cleaning. I can vacuum every carpet in our apartment in just under 15 minutes. Add sweeping/mopping the tile floors and I'm still not at more than a half hour. I can do a full-blown "my-mom-is-coming-to-visit" style cleaning in about four hours (does anyone else have a separate level of "clean" reserved only for when your mother visits?). I've never timed my cleaning of a house, but I'm sure it would take a lot longer!

Warmth.
We don't pay for heat in our apartment, so I feel the freedom to crank up the thermostat as high as my heart desires. Due to my extreme frugality, if my husband and I were spending our hard-earned money to pay for a heating bill, our apartment would probably be unbearably cold. Right now, it's 20 degree outside but 74 in my living room and I am loving it. :)

It saves money. 
At about 900 square feet, our apartment is small enough that it keeps our electric bill really low. I was recently talking to a friend who paid over $200 last month for their electric bill! Yikes! I almost choked on my food when he told me that. I'm quite content with our $27 AEP bill.

Repairs are a breeze. 
Fridge making an annoying rattling noise? Loose handle on the tub faucet? Dishwasher needs to be fixed? No problem. Fill out a little pink slip, drop it off at the rental office, and within 24 hours all of my maintenance needs have been fulfilled...at no extra cost to me. That's my kind of home repair.

Improved upper body strength.
Since moving into an apartment, I have perfected the skill of hauling an entire load of groceries from the car to the apartment in one trip. I'm sure this is quite the sight for the random onlooker. For some reason, I have an extreme aversion to making multiple trips from the parking lot to our apartment, so I have learned to hang about $75 worth of groceries off of my arms all at the same time. I have to believe that this is good for my upper body strength, and since I do nothing else to exercise my arms, I am choosing to count this as a benefit of apartment living.  :)

It prevents excessive accumulation of "stuff." 
Both my husband and I detest having lots of extra "stuff." "Clutter" might have 7 letters, but it's a 4-letter word in this family. If I don't have somewhere specific to put something or a way to use it, I'd rather not have it. Living in a place with limited storage space has magnified this trait in both of us. I love a good garage sale but seldom buy things for lack of  a place to put them.

I could go on, but the moral of the story is that I want to choose to be thankful and content. A "grass is always greener" mentality is no way to live. So, the next time I start hearing Eminem blasting through the walls of our apartment, I'm going to remember all of the wonderful things I have. And maybe I'll just go buy some earplugs.

Taking a Nap: Easier Said Than Done

“Are you going to try to rest today? I really think you should try to take a nap,” commented my well-meaning husband.

It was a simple question, really. It was most definitely not one that necessitated a rise in my blood pressure, but I could feel it happening anyway.

“I don’t know yet,” I responded, tension rising in my voice. “I'd like to, but I don’t know if I can.”

I sighed as I looked around our home, my body yearning for sleep, but my brain running through a rapid-fire mental list of all of the things I needed to do. There was no way I could take a nap right now...not with so many things I needed to accomplish. So, I started with the most noticeable task, cleaning the kitchen, which was still in disarray from a busy Saturday full of non-stop activity.

“I’ll just clean the kitchen  so I feel better and then I’ll lie down,” I promised my husband and myself.

We both knew better, though. That’s how it always starts, but the story almost never ends with me taking a nap.  One “small” task inevitably turns into another and soon I am I telling myself, “I can’t very well start that within finishing this…” and before I know it, dinner time rolls around, and by then, well,  it’s much too late to consider taking a nap. I knew that this Sunday afternoon, like so many before it, was going down a very unrestful path. 

Then it happened.  There should have been a flash flood warning. One with loud alarms and bright flashing lights, announcing to everyone in the near vicinity that there was a desperate need to take cover.  It surprised even me as the tears poured out of my eyes.

My husband, who knows me better than I even know myself, comforted me with a soothing embrace and encouraged me once again to rest.  

Suddenly convinced by my unattractive burst of emotion, I knew that he was right. I lay down, snuggled up under the covers, and closed my eyes, determined to sleep for even just a short while. 

Easier said that done. I felt like a ninja, trying desperately to combat an army of thoughts about tasks awaiting completion. Little enemies called laundry and making dinner and doing grad school homework called all of their friends and simultaneously attacked my mind. 

But today was unlike other days. I was determined to find some rest in the middle of my Sunday. I don’t know how it happened, but I began fighting off the attacks one by one and before I knew it……

An hour later, I was jolted out of a sound sleep by the cry of our alarm clock.

Approximately three and half seconds after waking up, those little enemies resumed their attacks . They hadn’t gone away while I was sleeping (wouldn't that be a fantastic super power to have!), but with my energy cup now a little fuller, they seemed much smaller and less intimidating.

Avoiding Blogging...Until Now

For years, I've avoided blogging. Sure, every now and then I toy with the idea of starting a blog after I've had some new monumental thought that I want to share with the world. Inevitably, I start to consider blogging about said thought and go to the internet to find a blogging website. I sit down at my computer, intent on sharing my thoughts with the world.

Then, it happens. Every. Single. Time.  A swam of hesitations attack my brain:

"You don't have a niche. You can't have a blog without a niche."
"What's your blogging name going to be? All good blogs have a clever name. No name? No blog."
"Have you seen your to-do list recently? You don't have time to write a blog."
"Do you really think other people would be interested in reading your thoughts?"
"Do you really want other people to read your thoughts?"

Surrendering in defeat to the attack of doubts, I  close the blogging webpage on my computer (yet again), resigning myself to the fact that I should just keep my twisted web of thoughts in my head.

Until today.

I still don't have a niche. I still don't have a clever name. And my to-do list is still a mile long.

But, the teacher I have been observing as part of my TESOL field experience has encouraged her class to participate in the "Slice of Life" blogging challenge, which involves blogging about something for every day in the month of March. I'll admit, when I first learned about it, I thought it was an amazing way to encourage literacy and was inspired by the example this teacher was setting for her students. "I should do it, too!" I thought. I may not have English Language Learners to inspire right now, but I can certainly start creating habits now that will (hopefully) influence the lives of my future students.

Then the attack happened. The same old hesitations came back and I reverted back to my old tendencies. I closed the blogging window on my computer and decided not to do it. "That's a great thing for them to do," I thought, "but I just don't have the time...or the ideas...or the right niche...or..."

I couldn't get rid of the nagging in my mind, though. Why not try? Why not start writing more often? Why not choose to start setting examples today for students that I might have in the future?

So, here we go...."Slice of Life" challenge accepted. My postings might not be witty, insightful, or inspiring. More likely, they will be a tangled web of thoughts that happen to be posted to the internet.  But perhaps somewhere in the writing down of that tangled web, I will become a better writer, teacher, and role model for my students in the future. If not, what's the worst that can happen?