It's Christmas today. I've found protection to type a bit, in a room full of super heroes, teenage mutant ninja turtles, legos and sports themed garden gnomes, on a small corner of the couch not covered by the cherished Xmas clutter spread. I have so much to say today, but don't want to be hidden behind this computer screen too long, for fear of missing one minute of joy in the boys faces. Perhaps with a few days off from work, I'll catch up on my back log of blog topics! I said I would find the time, remember?!
This Christmas is the second now that I've split time with my boys. The divorced parents out there understand the complex scheduling and heartache involved with sharing cherished little one's over the holidays. No details needed. The non-divorced parents understand the complex scheduling of just trying to see everyone that needs to adore your children! Magic and adoration are certainly deserved by the littlest loved one's in our clans, but I've always found holidays can be intensely busy, highly stressful and fast paced. I'm blaming no one but myself for those feelings. In holidays past as a Mommy, I look back and wonder if I even tasted the food I was eating or took enough time to stare, not from behind the lens of a camera, at the beautiful blue eyed children in front of me. I could go on and on about the reasons why, providing a deep psychological evaluation into the level of my self proclaimed crazy, but I'll spare you, for now anyway.
Coming out of a year filled with more change then possible to explain, on the heels of anguish necessary to spark major changes, I am allowing myself to admit that I am feeling a bit of peace today. A bit of reflection through tears. A bit of joy even...I have a guilty pang typing it out, part of a deep seeded set of demons that I wrestle with regularly. I had a house full of family and friends yesterday. It was relaxed, full of wine, full of presents for the boys & full of simplicity. Today, we are still in our pajamas, putting together toys and just being. Just being....peaceful, non-rushed, and full of love. I haven't taken enough pictures, my Facebook feed is lacking, we ate leftover cheese and pepperoni from yesterday's party for lunch (fire me!) and the past 10 minutes were spent explaining to Jack that opening up the 716 piece lego set at 1pm, when he has to leave at 3pm, is probably not the best choice. He actually agreed. There is nothing glamorous about this day, but it is glorious, peaceful, full of snuggles, gifts with meaning, and spirituality that, for me was only reached after spending some time in deep trenches.
In the trenches, I realized that the souls of women like my Mom Mom Rae and Aunt Mary resonate on a daily basis in my life. I needed to listen to them. (blog post to come later about these two). I found acceptance that you just never know what life is going to throw at you, or anyone else you love, so hunker down and make sure you love those you love with everything you have. I realized that being the strong one, all the time, for everyone, isn't sustainable, especially without any tears. I discovered that sometimes, putting yourself first is the only way you can be your best for not only yourself, but for your kids and the love of your life.
The truth is, today, Christmas Day of 2013, I've never felt so much love, or been able to give so much love, without some kind of wall up, in my life. I didn't know what I was letting pass by in life, but I'm so thankful to be loved, to love and to have two little boys who are adored by all of the family and friends that shine their light on them. May you have a Merry Christmas with your family, with enough time for the masses, with the balance of solitude for your smaller clan, and with a spirituality to let peace in...everyday.
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Saturday, October 26, 2013
An Archived Editorial for Our Dear Old State
I'm seated on the couch yet again, for another night of screaming at the television as PSU takes on Ohio State. I'm lucky enough these days to watch the games with my favorite die hard Nittany Lion, who, as I type this yelled, "Dammit, stop them!" as Ohio State takes a 21-0 lead. One of the best parts of being home watching these games, besides my company, is that a trusty visit to my 'ole pal Facebook has my fellow PSU fans, near and far, typing snippets of chants, "liking" celebratory posts and uniting in victory and defeat. I know they too scream somewhere out there, pulling for our Dear Old State. When we can't have Beaver Stadium, we turn to Facebook for the camaraderie, to make us feel connected to one of our favorite places in the world.
So, I pulled one from the archives tonight. I wrote this letter to the editor in July of 2012, in the midst of the Freeh Report and unreasonable NCAA sanctions against PSU hitting the airwaves. The media had positioned itself to dismantle our adored PSU and after an emotional prior eight months, and the loss of Joe Paterno, those that loved the most, hurt the most. The Daily Collegian published an abbreviated version of this letter last July. I titled it, "Waiting on the World to Change." It is timely to think about what has changed regarding the sanctions, the trials, the football team, and the media coverage since its publishing. And to contemplate what remains unchanged about our beloved PSU. I didn't edit the article, although it was tempting, but left it raw and just as it was written at midnight at a small desk, with just the glow of the computer light in my eyes, 15 months ago. I hope it brings you your own reflections tonight....the game is not going well at the moment...so, maybe this will be a welcome distraction! :) We Are...Penn State!
So, I pulled one from the archives tonight. I wrote this letter to the editor in July of 2012, in the midst of the Freeh Report and unreasonable NCAA sanctions against PSU hitting the airwaves. The media had positioned itself to dismantle our adored PSU and after an emotional prior eight months, and the loss of Joe Paterno, those that loved the most, hurt the most. The Daily Collegian published an abbreviated version of this letter last July. I titled it, "Waiting on the World to Change." It is timely to think about what has changed regarding the sanctions, the trials, the football team, and the media coverage since its publishing. And to contemplate what remains unchanged about our beloved PSU. I didn't edit the article, although it was tempting, but left it raw and just as it was written at midnight at a small desk, with just the glow of the computer light in my eyes, 15 months ago. I hope it brings you your own reflections tonight....the game is not going well at the moment...so, maybe this will be a welcome distraction! :) We Are...Penn State!
Waiting on the World to Change
Courtney Michener
Calio ’02 Comm
Today I am; a member of a cult, a graduate of a football
frenzied institution that cares nothing about academics, a fan that apparently
never saw my team win from 1998-2011, a former employee of a pedophile
supporting coach, a lover of all things associated with Penn State and
therefore, should hang my head in disgrace, pack up all my blue and white
memorabilia that adorns my home and burn every ounce of PSU gear I have, and trust
me, it is a lot.
Well, I have a serious problem, and so does every Penn State
heart. You see, I remember my Dad (all
6’5” of him) doing a cartwheel across our family room floor when Penn State
defeated Miami in 1987. I remember
filling our minivan to head up for my Dad’s PSU class reunion and staying at
the Days Inn, plotting how I would one day be grown up and go to PSU. I relive saying goodbye to my family when
they dropped me off at Tener Hall in East Halls as a freshman, leaving me with
a soulmate best friend, whom I had never met before. I hear the Blue Band
practicing in my head and remember it as my favorite background music for
studying. I have my size 2T PSU cheerleading outfit hanging in a closet in
hopes that one day I will have a little girl that will fit into it. I bought a Nittany Lion snowsuit for my boys
for their first Halloween costume, because the cheerleading thing clearly
wasn’t going to fly. The chill of the
fall brings thoughts of homecoming parades, tailgating, and Old Main Lawn. My 4-year old son has been on a family trip
to Penn State each year of his young life and has attended 4 PSU football
games. I still have never seen anything
comparable to what happens in the last four hours of THON. My family and I own table wars at the Phyrst
and the dance floor at the Shandygaff. I
worked for and adored Joe Paterno.
Graham Spanier took time to meet with me to tell me I should pursue a
career in educational leadership. I did. My problem is that Penn State is not my
school, it is not my team, it just is…so much more than you will ever be able
to understand if you don’t have the Penn State thread in the very core of your
being.
I don’t expect you to get it as an outsider. If you didn’t go to Penn State, it is easy to
sit back and judge and wonder why people love a school so much. Must be the football team?! Actually, I don’t want you to get it. I want something much grander for the world
my children live in. I want leadership
to never let us down. I want to sit in
church and not wonder about the priest.
I want pedophiles wiped off the face of the earth. I want people to be
honest, fair, humble and respectful to each other. I want the media to know what they are
talking about. I want organizations to value due process and our judicial
system to have time to do thorough investigations. I want people to feel the power of being
united by simple, common experiences like the singing of an alma mater, the
sound of a marching band and flipping drum major, the power of participation in
a four-word chant.
For all of you that really don’t know the Goddamn words of
our songs and stories, behind what it means to be a Penn Stater, it is
o.k. But don’t judge, don't sit around
watching PSU burn with a smile on your face, don’t wait on the world to change
while you blog nasty comments in news articles behind alias names. Join us. Do something. Be a part of something. Learn the words. Fight On.
For all of us, for our children, for our educational institutions, for
your soul, get to work. There is a lot
to do. Taking money, scholarships and
wins is just more senseless, power seeking, uneducated decision making that
sets humanity, and our youth, back even further. Come on world. We need to do so much better.
For the glory…
For the kids…
For our Dear Old
State….
Do something.
Friday, October 18, 2013
Remember When...Life Was Changed, Disassembled, Rearranged....
I am listening to Alan Jackson's song, "Remember When." I'm in a big white room the size of a classroom, with windows filling two complete walls. Their is one other colleague in this barren office space, although after the hustle and bustle of the morning, I believe we are both welcoming the quiet. However, the loneliness is still consuming. The hum of the office white noise machines drone in the background as Jackson's melancholy voice filters the sunlit room. The streaks of sunlight on my desk are rudely interrupted by plastic mini blind slats, causing nauseating zebra lines on my desk. The warmth and sunlight have me in a state of reflection causing so much depth to my thought, that I couldn't help but start typing.
It has been years now that I have wanted to "start" writing again. Starting again would lead one to believe that I had been a writer in the past. I have always thought of myself as a writer, journaling my way through childhood, savoring my language arts courses, working through assignments with long winded zest, studying communications at PSU and writing my way through graduate school and a thesis paper. I was writing about my life or what I loved to study and was passionate about. Then it stopped, quite abruptly. My outlet for emotional and intellectual dispensing of thoughtless or constructive thoughts, ideas, reflections, came to a screeching halt. I focused on love, started a career, and lost my outlet for the inner dialogue in my mind that never ceases.
When studying and working in the city in 2003, I wanted to write about fast paced city life and the glances from strangers on the bus, train and alley ways that left me concocting stories of what their lives must be like. I'd leave the train feeling as if I had brushes with humanity that could most certainly turn into magazine articles or novels.What lies within the souls of those we pass each day? It would be great to write my thoughts.
But, I just couldn't find the time.
I planned an international symposium in Prague, CZ. Traveled by backpack through Austria and Germany. I managed an executive doctoral program at Penn. I met a life long mentor with amazing leadership grace. I worked side by side with the highest ranking higher education professionals in the country. I was embedded at Penn during a time of neighborhood revitalization in West Philly. I was fostered and nurtured as an individual and leader with a keen entrepreneurial mind.
But, I just couldn't find the time.
I got married. I became a member of a new family. I stood by life-long friends as they got married. I became an elementary school teacher and was surrounded by brilliant young minds with fascinating stories on a daily basis. I grew those young minds in days of anguish and glory. I did one hell of a job. I brought life into the world, twice, as Jack (5) and Vincent (2) both arrived. I was certain that God was in the room with me and that I'd never be closer to witnessing a miracle as in those moments of life entering Earth. My Mom held my hand and I the clarity of the sacrifice she had made for me as a mother had never been deeper. I saw in my parents eyes the love that had always been there for me and my brothers, but I didn't comprehend. Its the recognition of the strongest love imaginable, parental love, the kind that hurts its just so strong.
But I just couldn't find the time.
I advanced my career, left the classroom, gave up summers with my kids to dive into work. I juggled a full time career, yet was home by 4:30 for my kids each day. I have many thoughts to share on motherhood and careers. I've had countless hours of dinner time conversations with little people in high chairs, with no other adult to share in their delightful joy. I've laughed as noodles were thrown across the room and cried through fevers and frustrating tantrums. I've had moments of loneliness when all I should have done was ask for help from those that love me most.
But I just couldn't find the time.
I have the most beautiful two sons you've ever laid eyes on, in my Mommy opinion of course. I've been mothering for five and a half years. My marriage to a life long friend disintegrated in a ball of fire, which ultimately happens as two people begin walking away from each other and forget to look back, or at each other any longer. I endured a family I had joined, avoid hard times and focus on alienation rather than support. I've lost myself in others, found myself in others. I've watched adored colleagues move on to brighter pastures and found reward and heartache as they walk away in gracious thanks.
But I just couldn't find the time.
I've grounded my soul and I await the beauty and anguish that each day has the willed potential to bring. I have found shelter and love in a small group of adored and cherished souls that let me rise and catch me when needed, rather than enjoy my fall. I have faith restored that love does conquer all. I give thanks everyday for the journey. I realize now that it is time to listen to the inner voice that says..."WRITE." I started an education blog, but need to be careful about my slant, as I'm still embedded in the field and representing an organization. Thus, its not unguarded and raw. So, I'm going to make the effort to let it out to the world here friends in a personal narrative, tap into the humanity that lives and breathes within each of us, and see if I have a gift that can connect with you as you sit out there in the abyss, awaiting words that you find relatable. Maybe I'm just filling an inner need and desire, maybe it's bigger, but either way I'm doing it.
I'm a Michener, so if you know James Michener, I don't promise to be short-winded. But, I do promise to write.
It's time.
And So It Goes...
It has been years now that I have wanted to "start" writing again. Starting again would lead one to believe that I had been a writer in the past. I have always thought of myself as a writer, journaling my way through childhood, savoring my language arts courses, working through assignments with long winded zest, studying communications at PSU and writing my way through graduate school and a thesis paper. I was writing about my life or what I loved to study and was passionate about. Then it stopped, quite abruptly. My outlet for emotional and intellectual dispensing of thoughtless or constructive thoughts, ideas, reflections, came to a screeching halt. I focused on love, started a career, and lost my outlet for the inner dialogue in my mind that never ceases.
When studying and working in the city in 2003, I wanted to write about fast paced city life and the glances from strangers on the bus, train and alley ways that left me concocting stories of what their lives must be like. I'd leave the train feeling as if I had brushes with humanity that could most certainly turn into magazine articles or novels.What lies within the souls of those we pass each day? It would be great to write my thoughts.
But, I just couldn't find the time.
I planned an international symposium in Prague, CZ. Traveled by backpack through Austria and Germany. I managed an executive doctoral program at Penn. I met a life long mentor with amazing leadership grace. I worked side by side with the highest ranking higher education professionals in the country. I was embedded at Penn during a time of neighborhood revitalization in West Philly. I was fostered and nurtured as an individual and leader with a keen entrepreneurial mind.
But, I just couldn't find the time.
I got married. I became a member of a new family. I stood by life-long friends as they got married. I became an elementary school teacher and was surrounded by brilliant young minds with fascinating stories on a daily basis. I grew those young minds in days of anguish and glory. I did one hell of a job. I brought life into the world, twice, as Jack (5) and Vincent (2) both arrived. I was certain that God was in the room with me and that I'd never be closer to witnessing a miracle as in those moments of life entering Earth. My Mom held my hand and I the clarity of the sacrifice she had made for me as a mother had never been deeper. I saw in my parents eyes the love that had always been there for me and my brothers, but I didn't comprehend. Its the recognition of the strongest love imaginable, parental love, the kind that hurts its just so strong.
But I just couldn't find the time.
I advanced my career, left the classroom, gave up summers with my kids to dive into work. I juggled a full time career, yet was home by 4:30 for my kids each day. I have many thoughts to share on motherhood and careers. I've had countless hours of dinner time conversations with little people in high chairs, with no other adult to share in their delightful joy. I've laughed as noodles were thrown across the room and cried through fevers and frustrating tantrums. I've had moments of loneliness when all I should have done was ask for help from those that love me most.
But I just couldn't find the time.
I have the most beautiful two sons you've ever laid eyes on, in my Mommy opinion of course. I've been mothering for five and a half years. My marriage to a life long friend disintegrated in a ball of fire, which ultimately happens as two people begin walking away from each other and forget to look back, or at each other any longer. I endured a family I had joined, avoid hard times and focus on alienation rather than support. I've lost myself in others, found myself in others. I've watched adored colleagues move on to brighter pastures and found reward and heartache as they walk away in gracious thanks.
But I just couldn't find the time.
I've grounded my soul and I await the beauty and anguish that each day has the willed potential to bring. I have found shelter and love in a small group of adored and cherished souls that let me rise and catch me when needed, rather than enjoy my fall. I have faith restored that love does conquer all. I give thanks everyday for the journey. I realize now that it is time to listen to the inner voice that says..."WRITE." I started an education blog, but need to be careful about my slant, as I'm still embedded in the field and representing an organization. Thus, its not unguarded and raw. So, I'm going to make the effort to let it out to the world here friends in a personal narrative, tap into the humanity that lives and breathes within each of us, and see if I have a gift that can connect with you as you sit out there in the abyss, awaiting words that you find relatable. Maybe I'm just filling an inner need and desire, maybe it's bigger, but either way I'm doing it.
I'm a Michener, so if you know James Michener, I don't promise to be short-winded. But, I do promise to write.
It's time.
And So It Goes...
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