52 Gems of Reflection

Debby's jar of journal prompts - A true treasure from heaven!

A while back, I found this jar of journal prompts in my bedroom, and soon learned from my husband that it belonged to his mother, Debby. My sister-in-law, The Purple Lady, later informed me that it was something her mother had done at a Relief Society meeting that she had taken her to when she was young. 

Anyway, for those of you who don't know, my mother-in-law passed away before my husband and I met, so I was never given the opportunity to get to know her. All I have at my disposal are the few pictures of her that I've seen, and the memories of others. When I found this jar; though, I thought it might be fun to use the journal prompts as a blog project in order to kind of feel connected to her - and since this year marks the 10-year anniversary of her passing, I figured what better way to celebrate her memory than in a year-long project, which was born by the fruits of her labor! 

I ran the idea by The Purple Lady for some feedback, and we put our heads together. I took some pictures of the jar, she did some editing - and this is what we came up with:

52 Gems of Reflection

So, for the next 52 weeks, we will be dedicating Mondays to this fun, little project - wherein a journal prompt will be randomly selected, and its picture will be posted to my blog. I would like to encourage all who knew Debby - or even those who didn't, but still want to join in on the shenanigans - to check in every Monday for the weekly Gem of Reflection. Then, use said reflection as a prompt for a blog post of your own - or if you want to make things super simple, just leave a simple Facebook/Twitter post. Either way, please remember to leave a link to your blog post in the comments section below so that we can all stay connected through these reflections, and can appreciate what everyone has to say. 

The Purple Lady will also be posting the weekly prompts on Pinterest - so if you plan to participate, you can get the challenge photo (as shown above), along with the weekly photograph prompts via a pin that she will post each Monday under Blogs and other Writing Adventures.

So, without further delay, I bring you week 1 of 52:

Week 1: Thinking back, was there a teacher(s) or class that had a great influence on you?

Reflecting back on my experiences in high school and college, it seemed like the classes that kicked my behind the most - requiring me to really think and work my tail off - were the ones from which I benefited most profoundly. There were a few classes, in particular, that had a huge impact on my life, and on my ability as a writer - and go figure, most of them were English classes. 

The most influential class; however, was one I took my freshman year of college. It was a World Lit course, and I will never forget our eccentric, little professor, Dr. Rey. She had to have been in her late 60's, yet she had short, flaming red hair, wore mini skirts and knee-high boots, and always wore a ton of makeup, including bright red lipstick. It was an interesting environment, to say the least - but this woman had an incredibly insightful mind. The work load was absolutely ridiculous, too (or so we thought as 18 and 19-year-old kids). We were assigned a particular work of literature to study over the course of a two-week period, at the end of which we had a five to seven page paper due. This was basically what we did over the course of the entire semester. Every two weeks, there was a new work of literature assigned, and a new paper to write. 

I'll never forget the day that Dr. Rey handed back the first set of papers that we wrote for her class. She began class that day by passing out a two-sided sheet of paper that listed all of the gramatical issues she would be taking into consideration when grading our papers throughout the semester, then began to express her disappointment in all of our papers as a whole. She then continued to rant about how bored she had been while reading them (she actually said she'd had to pour herself a glass of wine just to get through the pile. lol), and how disgusted she was that so many college-level students were incapable of forming complete sentences. Burn! English and writing had always come quite easily to me, but I realized in that moment that this class was no joke. She had some seriously high expectations, and I was going to have to up my game significantly in order to succeed in her class.

After berating us on how completely incompetent we were as writers, she said that one paper, in particular, had stuck out above the others, and that she was going to read it aloud so the rest of us would know what a "real" paper is supposed to look like. Immediately, I started to think, "Great, some punk know-it-all in the class is making us all look bad." But then, when she started to read from the pages in her hand, I suddenly felt my eyes widen in embarrassment as my face went white. She was reading MY paper. I immediately sunk into my chair and could feel the weight of everyone's stares in the room. I kept telling myself to play it cool, to try and act normal, but it took every ounce of self control not to shift uncomfortably in my chair. It did me no good though. When she finished reading my paper, she walked over and handed it to me, so everyone knew who it belonged to. I seriously could have died (I know, so dramatic. Hehe). 

Now that the initial humiliation has worn off, I can say that it was the first time I really remember feeling legitimized as a writer. I mean, all my life, I had been praised by family members for my writing, but this somehow seemed different. Maybe because she had had such high expectations for us as college students? I guess it's like receiving a compliment from someone that you know doesn't usually throw them away at the drop of a hat. It means more coming from that person because you know they are sincere - and not just blowing smoke up your rear. hehe. 

I am not going to lie, the class seriously kicked my trash - and I wasn't the only one, apparently. By the end of the semester, there were only about six students (including me) still enrolled in the course. I seriously learned so much from that class though. Not only did I acquire an adoration for classic works of literature (Inferno, The Illiad, Beowulf, Oedipus, the King, etc.), but I also came to love certain characters, such as Hector (from The Illiad). Heck, I'll even go so far as to say that I even gained a true appreciation for the art of writing term papers. That doesn't mean that I want to write one EVER again after all that (although, I am sure I will, as I plan on going back to school to finish my degree at some point), but still. ;)

Middle School Mahem: The day my heart stood still!

Today was Madison's first day of middle school, and starting the day out, I had so many thoughts running through my head:

First of all, how did we get to this day so soon? It seems like just yesterday I was dropping her off for her first day of kindergarten, and here she is in the 6th grade. It just seems so crazy to me. It got me thinking about how fast time passes. Before we know it, she will be going off to college...getting married...having children. And I seriously do not feel old enough to have a child who will be turning 12 in a few months.

I look at pictures of her from just a few years ago and she seemed so little. She still seems so young to me - but then I think of myself at her age - at how I thought I was so mature, so responsible. I mean, I was babysitting at her age. I look at her now; though, at the childlike naïvety that she still possesses, and I think that my parents (sorry mom...hehe) must have been crazy to allow me to assume responsibility for someone else's children when I, myself, was still so young and ignorant. I don't know...the whole thing just blows my mind. I have a middle schooler.

I know that for Madison, today must have been pretty scary. She was at the same elementary school since first grade. She knew all of the teachers and the staff, and was known on campus as the girl whose nose was always in a book. Now, not only is she at a new school with new teachers, but her best friend is at a different school this year too, so she has to really put herself out there and try to form new friendships. She is basically in a new, scary place and is just another strange face in the crowd.

To complicate things further, she takes a bus to school this year for the first time in her life; a fact that has had her both excited and nervous. Change can be a scary thing, and a little ounce of fear and uncertainty was to be expected - on both of our parts. We just had no idea how real that fear would be for us today when all was said and done.

Everything was fine this morning (on my part, at least) as I sent her off to school with my husband, Zach. He had decided to drive her himself so he could take her in early to meet the band director (he is a musician and so band for her this year is - well, a big deal). I was a little sad because it was the first year I wouldn't be driving her myself, but I thought I was handling it pretty well.

I went about my day as usual, but was in constant anticipation of her return - anxious to hear about how her first day had gone. When 2:30 p.m. rolled around, I hopped in the car and drove to where her bus is supposed to drop her off. Shortly thereafter, the bus pulled up and kids started piling out.

I suddenly had an extremely bad feeling as kids continued to emerge through the bus doors who were not my daughter, but I told myself that it was just first-day jitters - that I was just nervous about Madison riding a bus for the first time, and that everything was going to be fine. She was probably just going to be one of the last kids off the bus. After all, Madison and I had reviewed the details for her bus route over and over to make sure she knew which bus to get on and where her stop was located in relationship to the house. What was there to worry about, right?

Well, as I sat there starting to freak out a little, the last child hopped off the bus, the doors closed behind him, and the bus driver began to pull away. I saw one of her friends from elementary school and asked him if he had seen Madison on the bus, thinking maybe she just forgot to get off? He said he had actually seen her as the bus was pulling away from the school - walking in the opposite direction. I realized then that she probably just missed her bus and either went to the office or was directed by a faculty member to hop on a late bus. After all, I hadn't received a phone call from the school, so I was trying to tell myself that she was okay and that she was somehow still on her way home.

I tried calling the number to the school district transportation department, but despite several attempts, their line was just ringing busy. I then tried the school but was unable to get through to the office. I just kept getting a revolving message that said to call back during normal business hours, which it still was, by the way. They were supposed to have been open until 3:30 p.m. and it wasn't even 3:00 p.m. yet. I was really starting to get frustrated and felt the panic settling in. I finally just decided to drive to the school to see if she was there somewhere.

When I got to the school, I went in to the office and told the secretary up front what had happened. She had said that some children who had missed their bus were directed to get on later buses that would take them to their normal stop (since it was the first day of school and things were basically chaotic, I guess they expected some kids to have issues?) She then told me to call the transportation department to see if they could track down which bus she had gotten on. I told her I had tried that but the line was ringing busy. She then suggested I go and wait by her stop to see if she had, in fact, gotten on a different bus, and to keep trying to call the transportation line. She also gave me the number to campus police and said to call them if I couldn't get through to them and/or if she wasn't at her stop.

At this point, I was freaking out because the school had no idea where my child was. I kept telling myself that it was all going to be okay though, and that she was probably just walking home from the bus stop by now. On my way out of the office, I ran into another parent who I happened to know from Madison's elementary school, and apparently, her son had missed his bus too. We exchanged numbers and I told her that I would call her when Madison was finally located so that I could let her know if her son was on the same bus. She agreed to do the same, in case her son was dropped off first.

I called home to see if there was any sign of Madison, but there wasn't, so I drove to the bus stop to wait for her there. After arriving at her stop, several minutes passed by and still there was no bus. I finally got a call from the other mother telling me her son was home, but that Madison had not been on his bus either. I could feel the tears welling up inside, but I told myself that I was not going to cry. I WAS going to find her and she was going to be okay.

I tried calling the transportation line one more time, but it was busy, so I dialed the number to campus police. I told them the situation and they informed me that they would look into the situation and call me back. I then started cussing myself out for not sending her to school with her cell phone. She had gotten it taken away over the weekend and I had had half a mind to send it with her today in case of an emergency, and then confiscate it when she got home. In the end; though, we decided against it, and I was seriously kicking myself in the behind. The ONE day something like this happens, she doesn't have her phone. I seriously wanted to scream.

I said a silent prayer, pleading with Heavenly Father to keep her safe and bring her home to me. Finally, after a few more minutes, my phone rang and it was a number I didn't recognize, so I answered it quickly hoping that it was someone who could give me some answers.

Thankfully, it was Madison. She was calling me from a business nearly 2 miles from our house. How she had gotten there is an entirely different story. She was obviously upset; though, and practically in tears, and all I wanted to do was get to her ASAP and wrap her in my arms.

She stayed on the phone with me the entire time that I drove to her, and as I pulled in front of the building where she had been waiting for me, I saw her burst into tears - tears of relief - an emotion that both of us were experiencing in that moment of joy.

She got into the car and collapsed into my arms and we both had a good cry. I asked her what had happened and she explained how she had missed the bus, and then one thing led to another. I don't want to go into the details right now because I am literally spent emotionally from the traumatic events of the afternoon. Tune in tomorrow and I will fill you in on the details. I will tell you, though, that I took her out for ice cream immediately after picking her up. I figured we were both in some serious need of some comfort food. :)

The important thing right now is that she is home. I am just so grateful to my Heavenly Father for taking care of her and getting her back to me safely.

Source: http://media.photobucket.com/image/school%20bus/luckyluke115/ChimCanhCutBlog/school_bus.jpg?o=17