Thoughts and Previews

The girls have been sick lately. Rachel most of all - she came home from school one Thursday, was in bed by 3:30 and pretty much slept solidly for three days. Wouldn't even come out to watch a movie or read a book. It was pretty nuts. Suffice to say, we cancelled all plans that weekend and sat around at home. Sophie came down with something similar (though not as bad) the following week, so we had another weekend of laying low and resting week. 

As part of laying low, I did some reading, but also re-started chipping away at a sewing project. I've had this in the "work in progress" box for at least two years, and it's really bugging me now, so I'm making a concerted effort to get it done. It's intended to be a present, so I don't want to give too much away on it. 

But as I sat there at my sewing machine, I was wondering to myself; is this really what I should be doing? Is this the most important way to be spending my time right now? I mean, I had pretty much an entire day free, surely there was something else? 

I can't say I thought too much more about what else I could have been doing, though I'm sure there were worthy options, but my impulse response was to decide that the best thing I could do would be to finish this project as quickly as possible, and thus not have to deal with the conundrum again. Not sure that was the wisest decision, since three hours later I was so deep and focused on the sewing I clean forgot that we needed to pick Rachel up from a Guide camp (luckily Steve remembered and went for me). 

I'm finding though, that recently I've got a lot more of these existential crisis thoughts going on. Am I where I need to be? Doing what is meaningful? What is the legacy I'm leaving? Is anything I do having a lasting impact, or is it all pointless anyway? 

When I turned 25 I remember feeling funny about a quarter of a century. 30 actually felt great - lots of clarity and wisdom about things I never realised before. 40 feels much more like things might be falling apart. That I'm about to start dealing with the consequences of bad choices and that I don't have the time or ability to fix things anyway. Some days the future looks good - I've got the resources and know how to keep going, make positive impact and change things, while other days seem like there really is no point to it at all. 

In reflection too, I find that a lot of my choice activities of late have felt withdrawn or isolated. Reading, walking, sewing. Contrasted to our six months in Japan last year, when even our "chill at home days" were very together as a family (D&D). On one had I miss that, but obviously I don't feel like we would be able to recapture the same kind of (for want of better word) vibes now. That was obviously a very unique set of circumstances that led to those times.  

Anyway, instead of dwelling on these (probably totally normal) thoughts, I will just go back to my sewing project and the isolated enjoyment it offers, and tell myself that it's only for a season. 

Heavy

It's hard to put into words what I want to say but I'm noticing the weight of life more as the years go on. This year the heaviness has come and gone several times. Being able to look back and recognise that while the feeling is uncomfortable, it doesn't stay forever has begun to give me some clarity over it. Almost like when it comes I can allow it the space to visit, knowing that eventually it will pack its bags and leave again. 

Strange to think that we become accustomed to the feeling of weight. Wearing the sorrow and carrying the grief around as part of us while our lives continue on. I'd like to think I've never been one to wear a disguise to hide what is under the surface, but maybe I'm getting better at sharing with other people in a way to make them less uncomfortable. I don't know for sure. 

Earlier this year I picked up an extra days work at a second school to take my three days part time up to four. Fully aware that I am in a very privileged minority who has the option to work part time and choose my three or four days, I wanted to be sure I was contributing what I could to our family's earnings, not just coasting by on Steve's hard work (my mind, not in any way a reflection on Steve's stance, which, was just the opposite). I was feeling like I had a bit of spare time and thought that one extra day at another school, much closer than my current one, would not add an excessive load and be worth the added income. 

Boy was I wrong. The expectation of work (teaching prep to grade 6 in four hours with no scheduled prep time) was immense. At the end of the day, I'm not sure the school would have minded if I just did colouring in with the kids each week and recycled the same lesson for all six periods (grades 5&6 were a composite class for those who noticed a discrepancy in the text there). But I'm a passionate and committed educator who not only wants to deliver meaningful and engaging lessons, but I would be so bored if I recycled anything more than once. 

Not only the work load in terms of lessons, but just the sheer amount of effort it takes to get to know 150 student names and personalities is incredibly taxing. Don't get me started on the school systems and all the wonderful paperwork and mandatory training (student protection, code of conduct, cyber safety to name a few) that comes with a new school. 

I was doubling up on things I planned at my original school to try to cut down on my planning time, but then I'd need resources that I'd forget at one school when I needed them at another, or at home, or have to make two sets of to be sure I had them on hand for the right class. Definitely not ideal.  

In the second last week of term three, I was really feeling that weight, and after an incident at the new school involving some pretty terrible student behaviour, I was done. It took me a week (maybe more) to even talk about the experience without tears. I'm not ashamed of crying, especially when it comes from such a raw experience, but it does make processing, sharing and moving on somewhat difficult. 

Yet, God is good. With some very sound advice from other teachers who I was trusting to see the situation clearly when I had lost all confidence in trusting myself, and finally listening to Steve (who had told me it wasn't worth it way back after the second week I was there), I wrote my resignation email. Though I was still somewhat broken, the weight lifted. The last week of school and first week of holidays did a lot to help put me back together, especially Street Camp. Oh, how perfectly timed what that little getaway. 

But life continues. I ended up in hospital in the second week of holidays, having some straightforward emergency surgery. Healing of all kinds is a process that takes time and my journey involved daily doctor's visits to change dressings and check the progress. I was surprisingly more ok about missing the first week of school than I would usually have been. Then again, term four is always a much calmer term for me, despite the report card deadlines that loom ever closer. 

Second week and I was finally back at work when we had news that again caused me grief; from a number of places. That's not my story to tell, but again the weight sits with me. It reminds me of our broken world, of the way we need to cling to Jesus for hope. When I was younger (oh, how old I sound now! Maybe I'm trying too hard for wisdom?), I feel that the sadness was something that just needed fixing. That all I wanted to do was patch it back up and move on. 

But we can't patch everything, and sometimes we can have forward motion even as we carry the cares that try to hold us down. So I'll let the heaviness sit with me. I'll be ok with the grief. There is a time for everything, and if this is one of those times, that's ok. This is surely teaching me something too. 

"Consider the birds," Jesus says, "They don't farm or store away for tomorrow, and yet God feeds them. Are you not worth so much more than they?" (Matthew 6:26 Paula paraphrase)

Do I believe this? I do. 

Even in the grief of sorrow for people close to me, for people everywhere struggling, I cling to the hope I have of a God who loves us and considers us precious. In our broken and sorrow filled world, I know there is light, and good. Even just writing about Street Camp last month reminded me of all these things. 

This may not be a post for everyone to enjoy, but in my desire to be authentic and contain more than just shallow experiences on my blog, which is such a huge a reflection of my life, here it is. Reminding future Paula (and anyone else who needs to hear it) that the grief is not forever and the weight won't last. Love always wins. 

Me Made May

I'm interrupting regular posting to talk about Me Made May. I guess to the world it might not feel like an interruption, but as I have three posts mostly written and ready to go that follow along from the pillow case sewing that is turning out to be quite a saga, it feels like an interruption to me. Anyway; Me Made May. 

So Me Made May is a thing in sewing circles that happens each year (around May as it were), where people make pledges to wear self made clothing, or a variation on that theme. I don't know where it started, but it's about actively trying to wear self made clothes, thinking about what you wear and why, challenging yourself to try different combinations. 

It's the kind of thing that can help you think about your wardrobe; are there gaps? Are there different ways you could wear the same old same old? Are there small alterations you could make to bring something back? Are there things you don't wear at all and why is that? I guess at it's core is helping people to celebrate wearing things that we have made, and to be thinking sustainably about the clothes we wear. 

I love this. So though I've never participated in Me Made May before, I felt like giving it a go this year. Not a 100% sure exactly why, or what my Me Made May Challenge will be exactly, but I'm just jumping in. I figure that if I just start somewhere, I'll figure out my goal along the way. Maybe.  

This week, I'm mostly just trying to reach for clothes I've made first, before I put on something easy (jeans and t-shirt again *face palm*). I am going to try to do one post a week to summarize what I've worn that has been self made, and what I'm thinking about it. To be honest, the hardest part of this (and we are only two days in so far!) has been actually taking photos of myself. Scary. 

Anyway, lest this be a post with no photo, I thought I'd share the first self made thing I wore for Me Made May, which is something I made last year and never blogged about. 

I love this floral jumpsuit. I got the pattern free from another Brisbane based sewer person who was de-stashing during the Covid lock down last year. Though I don't really like sewing from pre-made patterns I really wanted to try to make it. So I made a draft, fixed all the fit issues and then made the final out of this gloriously bright print. 

I've lost a bit of weight since I first made it, so it's a little looser now, but I still get so many comments when I wear it, which might give me the motivation I need to take it in a few places so it can have that really "tailored for me" fit feeling again. 

This seems like a great place to start for Me Made May. Something I love that I'm committed to adjusting so I can keep wearing it for a long time. Let's hope the rest of the journey has some similar discoveries.