~soon time to cross over the mountain

It's the early morning here and all is quiet along the Western Slopes.  The roadways, at least in our part of the world, are clear and dry.  Looking out at highway 50, even at this early hour of the day, I can see cars moving along fairly well.  The recent winter storm has left this area of the country and is heading toward its next destination.  I'm thinking of all the folks who are in its pathway now and praying for their safety as they travel this holiday week.  May all be well for them.  I never thought all that much about travelling anywhere during the winter, leastwise until now.  Yet tomorrow, very early in the morning, we too shall join the throng of people trying their best to safely and expediently get "home" for the holidays.

Welcome to Tuesday and winter dear friends and family~

In all of my 58 years of life, I've never had to consider going "home" for the holidays of Thanksgiving and Christmas because, well because I was always there already.  When you live in the same state, shoot in the same county for all of your days I guess that's bound to be the case.  This year is different, a real first for this Kansas farm girl who now makes her home along the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.  Tomorrow Mike and I  will make the 611 mile trek over to the great state of Kansas to be with our two families living back there in the south central part of the state.  The Scott and Renfro families are expecting us and even though we were back there in early October for my class reunion, it seems like months since we actually were home.  What a blessing it will be to join them there at the Thanksgiving Day table on both Thursday and Saturday.  The 5 days will pass by so quickly and we have a lot to pack into them.  When we head back home to Montrose early Sunday morning, I hope that I can do so without crying.  I know, I know.....   I'll just keep in mind that at Christmas time we will get to do it all over again.  It gets better each time.

In thankfulness I can say that indeed my transition from living in Kansas to living here has greatly improved.  All along, people including my dear husband Mike, have told me "just give it time".  One of the greatest things that I've received in the past 6 months is the gift of new friends, some living here in Montrose and many others in my new "school community" of Olathe, Colorado.  It has helped tremendously in my quest to eradicate homesickness, to find other people who have found themselves in the same proverbial "boat" as I have been.  I was not alone.  I only thought that I was.  One very dear friend, another teacher at Olathe, just this week visited with me and told me of their move from the Houston, Texas area to this part of Colorado a few years back.  She explained to me how hard it was for her to be uprooted and just like me, she wished many times to "just go home!"  But she toughed it out and encouraged me to do the same.  My heart is full of love for Kansas and its people but I have "skooshed" things over a bit in there and now Colorado and its people are squeezing in as well.  So if you have felt a bit crowded lately dear "Kansas", well I guess that's why :)  

Well, it's time to get busy now and shut this computer off.  It and a thousand other things need to be packed very soon.  One more day at school with the "18" and tomorrow by this time, we shall be headed well to the east.  It will be good to see you my friends and family.  May God bless our journey home.  Be at peace everyone, stay healthy and well.  My spirit is most happy this day.  God has been so good to me and continues to bless me every moment of every day.  One more short sleep :)

                                     Kansas wheat harvest-summer of 1976

   Colorado's Black Canyon of the Gunnison, just up the road from our house-2013
           I'm happy to say that I have found the beauty of both Colorado and Kansas.

Two kids from "the land of long ago and far, far away" in January of 2013.

Same two kids, 11 months later on down the road.

upon being a teacher of "life's lessons"~

A good Sunday morning everyone out there and I'd say "greetings from balmy south western Colorado" but that would tend to be an untruth.  It's 34 degrees outside here in Montrose with still the chance of snowfall the rest of this day.  Up on Monarch, it's so much colder with today's high forecast for 26.  Over the past 48 hours they've gotten 7 inches of snow with more scheduled to come.  The skiing season is open now and lots of folks will be making their way there during the course of the next weeks and months to enjoy the time of year that is quite honestly not at the top of my "favourite season" list.  Back home, our friends/family in Hutchinson and Wichita are enduring weather of a bit chillier form, only 19 degrees there.  Bundle up, stay safe and warm all of you.  It's the "mother" in me, ok?

Yesterday morning we awoke to the beginnings of snowfall here along our part of the Western Slopes.  Down in the valley where the city of Montrose is located, we were spared the brunt of the storm but all around us the mountains were hammered.  The San Juans, old Silverjack, the Uncompahgre Range, the Black Canyon, the Grand Mesa and the road onward towards Kansas became white with the snowfall.  Sometimes it is amazing and yes, I have to admit, even beautiful to look at the winter wonderland that this part of the world becomes in late November through the early part of April.  As long as a person doesn't have to get out to drive very far in it and inevitably have to cross one of the passes, it's not so bad.  Come in the very early hours of Wednesday morning, Mike and I will be crossing the pass at Monarch and heading home for the holidays in Kansas.  We hope and pray to make the journey in good shape with no major problems to worry about.  I am happy and excited, most ready to see my beloved state of Kansas once again.

Yesterday morning, as we awoke from slumber here at home in Montrose County, Colorado~

     I have much to be thankful for in this month of "Thanksgiving" but shoot, I've got much to be grateful for in the other 11 months of the year as well.  How about you, do you feel the same?  

     The next few days will be busy ones here as we prepare for the last two days of school for the  week and the journey back home to the Midwest (that sounds so weird, that crossing over one mountain pass can take you from the "West" to the "Midwest").  We've been monitoring the weather reports, both current and long-range ones, and will hope that the drive back in the snow will be manageable.  "Determination will be riding shotgun" but I promise that we will use good sense and caution as we make our way there and for the return trip back to Colorado.  

     I'm thinking about the "18" this morning, the children that I've been entrusted with this school year and the ones that after Tuesday upcoming, I'll send home for a well-deserved 5 days off from school.  We're nearing the halfway point of the year and it's unbelievable to me that so much time has gone past us already.  Things happened rather quickly as I took on the job in the first place.  I learned about the position opening up at Olathe Elementary at 11 a.m. one morning and was being interviewed as well as offered the opportunity to return to teaching  less than 3 hours later.  I had exactly 5 days to prepare for them to walk into our fourth-grade classroom.  And I gotta tell you, things have not slowed down one bit.  They have only moved faster.  Life~you have to love it!

     I've tried to take stock of where we are as far as the reading and math curriculum goes and it can kind of give a teacher a headache just to imagine how much children are supposed to be able to know before they pass from fourth grade to fifth.  Teaching reading has always been my strength, the teaching of math, well not as much.  But right alongside the kids, I have learned and I really believe that at this point in time I've managed pretty well with the timeless subject of arithmetic.   Teaching them to write has been a real joy, a blessing for me.  They have caught on quickly and are filled with all kinds of ideas about what makes a good story.  They have been busy writing their own personal narratives, those kinds of stories that tell of true things that have happened to them.  Academically, we are making progress and although not everyone is where they should be, I am not giving up nor will I let them.  It just takes time and remembering that no two classes are alike, I also realize that no two students within the same class are alike either.  We'll make it, in our own way.

     After 36 years of doing this, I realize that as a teacher my greatest strength is teaching students lessons about life and I hope that my saying so doesn't come across as being boastful because that is not the intent.  But I am an excellent teacher of "that" subject and perhaps it is that way because I have been through a lot of life, both the good and bad, myself.  When teachable moments come along, I throw the lesson plans, the state standards, and the learning goals of the day straight out the window.  I have done it for years and will for years to come.  I'm not afraid to do so and here is why.

    I think sometimes one of the greatest things that teachers can teach their students is to show them that WE are as human as they are.  We make mistakes, many of them each day.  My kids love it when they see I've made an error as we've worked through problems in math and even I have to smile when I hear them call me out on it.  When I hear someone say to me, "Mrs. Renfro, you forgot what number you were multiplying there.", I don't get upset with myself for making such a silly mistake.  It  just tells me that they are paying attention and learning as well.  When I mistakenly switch "Kevin with Christopher", "Xzavier with Jesse", and "Monika with Marissa" the students  just realize that after 36 years, it's still hard to tell some kids apart.  We laugh with one another, we learn with one another because we are all fallible human beings, adults AND kids.

     Students need to see that their teachers have hearts that are soft and ones that can from time to time be sad or broken.  I am glad to be able to share some of my emotions with them and have been most thankful for the ways that they have responded to me.  Back in the days of "old lefty", I remember the tears that I would shed when even doing the simplest of things was nearly impossible.  I recall so well that day that some of my little first-grade sweeties back at Lincoln Elementary became my cheerleaders one time during the first months of a long-arm cast.  They saw their teacher begin to cry when foolishly I tried to peel a sticker off for one of them with the then crippled fingers of "old lefty".  It was a task that was going nowhere very fast and I was frustrated beyond belief.  When little Michael saw the first tear slip out of my eye, he stood up next to me and said "Come on, Mrs. Miller.  Don't give up because you can do it!"  And dear Michael was right~I could!  Not long after that day, a group of wonderful fifth grade students sat there in disbelief as they were witnesses to a miracle right before their very eyes.  The fingers on my left hand, save for the middle one referred to as "lucky", were adamant about not moving.  they were frozen there on my left hand and try as I might, I could not make them move.  Yet that day in their reading group time, I was bound and determined that at LEAST the thumb should move.  Lo and behold, it did!  They all stopped reading when they heard their teacher exclaim, "Holy cow! My thumb just moved!"  And when they clapped for me and my small feat of movement, I cried again.   The nice thing about it was that they understood and showed what empathy really meant to them.

     At Olathe Elementary, my students have witnessed many of the good and the bad days for me.  They have seen the "cranky" side of Mrs. Renfro and I would be the first to admit that it's a not so much fun kind of moment in time.  The "18" know that I fully intend to keep my "thumb upon them" and do the best I can given the very short amount of time each day that we have together, to prepare them for 5th grade next year.  I have stopped lessons in mid-sentence as I've stared down students who were not paying attention, a technique that I have found as of late works with husbands too.  (sorry Mike :)  But they also know that I love them and only want the best for them in their lives and when I tell them that, they believe me.  I am most fortunate.  

     The "18" know that I am returning home to Kansas very soon and I'm sure it will be a topic of conversation in the two days that we will be together at school this week.  The last time I went back, in October for my class reunion, they were a little sceptical about my being gone for 3 whole school days.  One of the boys, a puzzled look on his face, said to me before I left, "Uhmm, you ARE coming back to us aren't you Mrs. Renfro?"  I thought of that young man this past week as I finished up the story of "Sarah, Plain and Tall".  The story tells of a young widower on the plains of western Kansas who advertises for a wife and a mother for his two young children.  A kind woman named Sarah replies from the state of Maine and make the journey west to stay for a month to see if she "can make a difference" in the lives of Jacob and his children, Caleb and Anna.  At the end of the book, all three are concerned that Sarah wasn't happy there and would soon choose to return to her lifelong home along the north eastern seaboard.  When she is overdue in returning home from town, they are sure that their fears are well-founded.  Yet return to them she does.  It was something that Sarah said to little 7-year old Caleb and his sister, 10-year old Anna,  that stopped me in my tracks as I was reading to them. It took me a moment to swallow the huge lump that had developed in my throat and to dab away the tear that was ready to fall my eye.  My fourth-grade students knew as I read it, that what Sarah was saying to the children in the book was the very same message that I was giving them, from my heart to theirs.  

"We thought you might be thinking of leaving us," Anna said.  "Because you miss the sea."  Sarah smiled. "No," she said.  "I will ALWAYS miss my old home but the truth is that I would miss YOU more."  (from Sarah, Plain and Tall)

I understand the need for teaching students everything they must know in order to become successful members of this world we live in.  I want them to be able to read, write and do math beyond everyone else's expectations.  I get that part of it.  But until the day I die, I will never change my mind that the best lessons that any child can learn are the ones found in the "book of life".  I'm still learning those myself and perhaps that's the best training any educator can hope to receive.

Have a great Sunday my friends and wow, only 3 sleeps more!  See you very soon Kansas.

  

      Mid-August~our very first day of school together.  I pretty much fell in love with this group of kids from day 1.  They may be ornery and one of the noisiest groups of students I've ever encountered but they belong to me!                                                                                                        

September~getting these kids to stand still for a photo that Friday afternoon was like herding a bunch of cats.  

October~Halloween Day~surely I don't need to say anything further about this one, do I?               

November~the end of our first 3 months together and oh, how they have grown and changed!          





     

     

Having realized that it was about time.....

Good evening friends and family from along the Western Slopes of the Rocky Mountains of Colorado where those of us here are waiting for some significant winter snow to make it's way towards us this week.  It was bound to happen sooner or later and thankfully we don't have to make any journey over the pass this week.  The folks in the high country, all the way from the San Juan Mountains to the Grand Mesa, are expecting to see plenty of the white stuff for the next 3 days.  Mike mentioned to me earlier this evening not to be surprised to see 3 or 4 inches of our share of the white bounty by morning time.  Welcome to Colorado and winter!

Hard to imagine that it's been six months tomorrow, November 21st, that Mike and I were married back in Hutchinson, Kansas on the very last day of school in front of all of our friends, family and students in the gymnasium of Lincoln Elementary.  Two days later we headed out towards a new life together here in Montrose, Colorado.  The day before we left, I stopped in at school to pack up the last of my belongings there and enjoy a breakfast brunch with the staff there who had become just like members of my family.  Right before finishing up and walking out the door for the very last time, I was presented with a beautiful gift from my dear friends and comrades, one that I would be sure to treasure for the rest of my days.  A few weeks before our wedding, I was asked what Mike and I could use/need/or want as a gift upon our marriage.  I could think of only one thing to tell them and it sure enough, there it was wrapped up for us to take back to Colorado on the journey to our new home.  The picture is shown below...

The gift we received on that final day of being together there on East Bigger Street was a scrapbook that all of the classes and various staff members  had put together for us.  It was filled with page after page of memories enough to last a lonely and homesick, newly married and second time around retired schoolteacher for days to come. When we packed it into the car for the return trip home, I was sure that I'd sit down and look through it in the evenings that would soon be at hand.  I was wrong.

The first days and weeks of being out here were so rough for me as I longed for the familiarity of the place that had always been my home.  I was perpetually lonely, feeling most lost with life and rather than making me feel better, it made me feel worse to open up that scrapbook and remember the dear people of Kansas who had loved me.  For days it sat unopened on the coffee table of the living room of our 100-year old home here and then when I got tired of seeing it there, I had Mike place it high on the shelf of the bedroom closet.  Out of sight and out of mind and that's where it has stayed since the late May day when we arrived.  For some strange reason, tonight seemed like the night to get it out and finally look at it and so I did.  I must be getting better because rather than shed a tear for the people I no longer see each day at school, my heart is filled with joy that I had the blessing to know them in the first place.  Even though I had peeked at a few of the pages the day that it was gifted to us, I had forgotten all of the things that were included in it.  Tonight it was as if I had opened the gift for the very first time and man, I'm so glad that at long last I can look at it and enjoy it.

The staff members who put the book together for us are a creative bunch of folks and they included so many sweet and special memories of the 3 years that we all spent together.  They knew just what I would enjoy, the precise things that would make my heart sing each time I saw them.  Things like~

 Carla, our librarian, who remembered my love for books by Laura Ingalls Wilder and the timeless classic for young children, "Sarah, Plain and Tall".

 Brenda, Diana and Pam from the front office~people who bailed me out of trouble time and time again.

 My co-workers in the Title I department~Janice (who now is teaching in my old position), Alicia and Deanne.  I miss them and the fun that we used to share in together.

 The 4H page that my dear friend Jessica helped to put together.  When Alicia, Jessica and I stood for that photo during a January monthly meeting, I had no idea that I would not be returning to school in the fall.  Life turns out in surprising ways sometimes.  Would you agree?

A message from my good friend Kristy Farley, included on her page of the book.  When I read that note this evening, it brought a tear to my eye.  I will miss Mrs. Farley's "Poetry Cafe" moments that her children provided in the last days of school each year.  I'd never realized how much fun poetry could be until I met her.

It's been fun tonight to sit down and enjoy something that had been hidden in the closet for much too long.  You know, I don't feel homesick as I look at it now and my heart is not breaking like I felt it doing in the early days here.  Weird as it might sound, it's kind of like inviting the entire school over for Sunday dinner or something.  Good thing we're just imagining it to be that way because with one bathroom and over 200 people, well you get the picture.  I received so much pleasure by looking at it this evening that I think I'll take it over to Olathe tomorrow and share it with my students at school there.  I doubt it will ever be banished to the dark side of the closet again.  I kind of like having it out.

I've been blessed my friends in so many ways in my life.  When God closed the door for me as an educator in Hutchinson, Kansas back 6 months ago now, He opened up another door for me here as a 4th grade teacher in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.  I wouldn't pretend for one minute to understand it, but I most certainly do know that someone so much wiser than I will ever profess to be has got the "plan" covered.  Knowing that, who would I ever be to question why?  Just like it was back in Hutch, I have found my niche in Montrose County, Colorado.  18 young people need me to be there each day and I pretty much feel the same way about them.  I am alive and well, living 611 miles away and even though it seems like it sometimes, south western Colorado is not at the end of the earth. 

Have a great night's rest my friends and family!  Kansas we shall see you once again in 6 sleeps more.  Be at peace with your life everyone~Love you guys all.......

I'm an Olathe "pirate" now and I am slowly but surely doing so much better here in Colorado.  Kansas will always have a special place in my heart and its people will always be among the very finest of folks on earth.  Lincoln Elementary School and USD 308, Hutchinson, Kansas I will always wish you only the very best in your endeavours to educate the youth of Reno County.  You guys are always going to be #1 in my books.  

Six months into life here

     I'm thinking of my late grandmother this morning on the occasion of the day of her birth, November 19th, 1891.  Catherine Schilling Brown, my mother's mother, passed on to her Heavenly home in 1997 in the winter of her 106th year.  Gone now for over 16 years, Grandmother's legacy to her family and the fact that she lived well over a century are things that I will always remember her for.  She really wasn't too happy about living so long and I'm pretty sure that if she would have held the record, even for just a short time, as the oldest living person on earth that it might have just not set too well with her.  Living to 100 was "ok" but as each subsequent anniversary of her birth in Harvey County, Kansas came around, Grandmother questioned many times her fear that the Lord had forgotten about her being here.  He had not and in the early morning hours one Tuesday morning, she was called to return.  I think of her from time to time, always with gladness and love in my heart for the gift of her life and the things that she taught me, the second to the youngest of her 12 grandchildren.

     Catherine Brown lived her entire life (save for the last 5 years of it) in the same county of south central Kansas. Geesch, she sounds like her granddaughter for some reason and so hey, I was in good company.  Except for the last four years of nursing home living in Hutchinson, she made her home only a few miles from where she was born on the family's homesteaded place between the little Kansas towns of Halstead and Burrton.  She loved it there and really had no need to make the move to anywhere else.  She married my grandfather Andrew at the age of 20 and ended up having 3 daughters with my mother Lois being the baby of her bunch.  The temperature was in the single digits on the morning of her funeral that late January day and as my other grandmother would have been known to say, it's a wonder that we didn't all "freeze stiff a grinning" as we laid her to rest alongside of Grandfather and his 4 bachelor brothers in the winter stillness that frigid morning.  Memories warm the heart.

     It's been 6 months now since Mike and I were married back home in Hutchinson and I moved here to life along the Western Slopes.  You know,  if a thousand things have happened to change my life since Grandmother's death in 1997, then a thousand more have occurred in the short time that I've been here as a newly married woman.  I always considered my grandma to have been like a pioneer woman as she lived her life in those early days.  Now sometimes I feel like a modern day pioneer woman myself as I have made the long and arduous trip over the mountains to come from the plains of Kansas here to my home in Montrose.  Surely though I have been glad for the blessings of technology that weren't available to the folks of a hundred years ago.  I have found a respite from the homesickness and loneliness for the flatlands, especially in the very early days, on the pages of my Facebook friends, cell phone calls and text messages back to family in Kansas and the ability, even though it is 11 hours away, to go home from time to time.  I haven't even come close to dying from being away from my old life in Reno County, I only thought that I might.  God is very good and the life He has planned for me has been good as well. 

     A little part of Catherine Brown came with me as I moved over 600 miles to the west. Her blood runs through me and gives me much strength especially during the times when life has seemed the most difficult to me in the mountainous terrain that I now live in.  Her spirit has given me that gentle nudging and that sometimes "whack upside the head" that I have needed when I nearly gave up.   The lessons that she taught me come back at just the right moments in time and provide me the peace that I need to continue onward on the road of life.  I thank her for that and always shall choose to remain so grateful that God saw fit to make a little girl named Peggy Ann to be her grandchild.  May you have a grandmother or even two or three that you are grateful for as well my friends.

     Time to head out the door soon and head on up the road to Olathe Elementary.  122 years ago today was a great day to be born on and Catherine Brown would tell you to go out and enjoy it on her behalf.  Don't waste even one single moment of it my friends~it shall never return again.  

I always loved this photo taken at Christmas time in 1975 at our family's restaurant in Haven, KS.  My mom, Aunt Beck, Aunt Dorothy and Grandmother Brown all sitting down together after dinner.  The only one remaining is my Aunt Beck who just turned 100 herself last month.  Sweet memories of time gone long by.

The kind and gentle woman who taught me the fine art of learning history from those already gone before us, finally received her rest.  Grandmother and I walked the cemetery many times together and thankfully I was wise enough to listen to all that she taught me about life and about death.  Love you my grandmother, always.

                                             And speaking of being alive....  I am :)
     

     

~upon those times when we might as well get to "the point"~

Welcome to Sunday everyone!  It's early here along the Western Slopes and the skies are not only still dark but very cloudy as well over us here in Montrose.  The weather cam up on Monarch Pass shows just what I thought it would, snow and plenty of it.  Glad we don't have to travel over it today and hoping for safe passage for those that do have to.  I would never be too excited about having to leave the roadway up there.  Just doesn't seem like the best of plans, for sure.  Wherever you guys are this day, please be safe as you go about your way whether it's as simple as travelling across the city of Hutchinson to get to Wal Mart or boarding a plane to fly across the country to get home again.  Sorry, that'd be the "mother" in me talking.

I've been thinking it's just about time to get to "The Point" with my classroom of fourth graders at Olathe and it's the kind of point that is most well taken when it comes to kids and adults alike.  And that "point" of which I speak is really a wonderful movie of the same name that was first broadcast February 2, 1971 as an ABC "Movie of the Week".  I remember well the night that it aired and the 15-year old girl that I used to be was one of the many who sat glued to the TV set watching it for the first time.  I never imagined that in the years that would lie ahead the lesson this animated classic so masterfully taught would be a teaching tool that I would employ as an educator of young people.  The lesson is as timeless and relevant today in 2013 as it was, now over 42 years ago.

The whole idea behind the story of "The Point" was an early day lesson about treating your "fellow man" as you would wish to be treated, regardless of what they might look like.  Simply put, the lesson was "be nice to one another".  It was set in an imaginary place where everything and everyone had a point, literally.  From houses to trees, street signs to shoppes, and oh yes, people's heads....everything truly had a point to it.  All was well and good until one day a new little baby was born who unfortunately for him, didn't arrive with the traditional pointed head but rather a nice round one.  His parents, filled with shame because their son was born differently, took to making him wear a hat with a point on it in order to cover up his obvious flaws in design.  They gave him the name Oblio and brought him home from the hospital to love him anyway.  The story goes on to tell of the struggles their little "roundhead" as they called him, went through each day.  The kids made fun of him, the Count's evil son bullied him,  and eventually Oblio and his dog Arrow were banished to the Pointless Forest to spend out the remainder of their days.  The story has a great ending and finally at long last we find that little Oblio does indeed receive his point.  If you've never seen it, really it's a great one to watch.  Ringo Starr did the voice of Oblio's dad and the music of Harry Nilsson sounds as incredible today as it did over 4 decades ago.

I love the 18 fourth grade students at Olathe Elementary that call me their teacher this year.  They are an interesting group and for the most part, everyone manages to get along with the others each day.  Oh yes, we have our squabbles and our challenges sometimes but I think any time that you mix 10 boys and 8 girls together and charge that they should stay in the same classroom together for a nearly 8-hour day that troubles are bound to arise.  We try our best to solve them on our own without the help of anyone else.  99.9 percent of the time it works out just fine.  Because I love them so much, I want them to do their best in school each day.  I hope that when the year is over that they have become better readers, writers, and mathematicians.  But even beyond that, I hope that they become better children who will eventually grow up to be productive members of our society.  They may not remember how to determine the author's purpose for writing a story or completely understand the method for doing lattice multiplication.  Shoot, they may not even be the best spellers or writers of the world either.  But I will be grateful always that they remembered that their teacher taught them to be kind and decent to one another, to have compassion for others, and to always, no matter what, do their very best in all that they undertake in their lives.  And come this week, I'm going to show "The Point" to them and show one more time that the very best lessons that kids could ever learn will never be found in a teacher's guide or on the Colorado State Standards (or any other state for that matter).  The lessons that stick with them will be found from within them and those my friends, are the most fun to teach and see the results from.

Many people have asked me where my cat Oblio got her name....well now, you know why I call her our little "roundhead".  I miss that darn cat and will look forward to heading home to Kansas in just a few days to hold her in my arms once again.  Have a great day everyone out there.  Stay safe and well.  Be at peace with life always.  

                                                       It's really worth the watch!

The "roundhead" and I on her very first Christmas in 2010.  She would not stay out of the Christmas tree that year and her record stands now, 3 years later.  I give up!  Did you know that you might find the truest friend you ever had because of a cat?  It was the added blessing that having Oblio brought to me.  Forever grateful.....

The "18" and I~I looked all summer long for them and just about gave up hope of ever finding them.  They were my blessings and the reason that I get up each morning and head to school.  Being a teacher is the best job there is around.  I will always believe that.

~soon to be time to pass over the mountain~

Good afternoon dear friends and family with greetings to you all from the "other side", the Pacific side of the Continental Divide.  This morning back home in Hutchinson, Kansas the temperature was setting at 55 degrees and mostly sunny skies as I awoke at the 7 a.m. hour.  Yet here at home in Montrose, Colorado our temperature gauge registered a chilly 34 degrees and we knew upon waking that this would be a day that we would not be seeing a whole lot of the sun in the sky.  Up on old Monarch Pass, folks there are facing a day of yucky weather and are in for winter storm warning conditions for the next 24 hours. The temperature up there, at over 11,000 feet, is staying right at 19 degrees with blizzard-like conditions from time to time.  Sounds lovely, doesn't it?   The long range forecast shows much of the same for that point on the map that we have to watch closely as we plan any travels back and forth between Kansas and Colorado for the holidays.  Living where we do in this part of the state, we are totally at the mercy of the mountains and the winter weather.  With hope, it will be only 11 sleeps more before we take out and head back to Kansas for the Thanksgiving holidays with our friends and family back in Reno and Sedgwick counties.  Surely looking forward to that visit upcoming in short order.

This is what the world looked like this morning, at least from our vantage point along the Western Slopes.  That's old Silver Jack in the background, looming off into the south east.  It's a view I see every day here as I arise and not only do we see this mountain but the San Juan Mountains as well, just outside the kitchen window.  Last night a person couldn't even begin to see them because of the very thick clouds of the storm system that went through.  What a difference just 12 hours makes as shown below.

                                               5:00 p.m. last evening

                                 7:00 a.m. this morning....  "magic, magic" 
                                                They have reappeared.

Never in my wildest of dreams did I imagine that I would be living in a place such as Montrose, Colorado and even more unimaginable for me is that I would have to worry about crossing over a mountain pass like the one at Monarch.  But on both counts I do and if I wish to get home for the holidays, both at Thanksgiving and Christmas, then climb up and over it, I must.  Our plans are to take out from here, dependent upon projected weather conditions, either Tuesday evening or Wednesday in the early morning hours before Thanksgiving Day.  We have rented an SUV to use in the journey back to Kansas and we will wait until much closer to the time to make our decision as to when we will take out.  We will be praying for no trouble and with both Mike and I taking turns behind the wheel, we hope all will be well.

I have a couple of friends (ok, ok, more like a dozen friends here)  who think we are a little crazy for even attempting a trip to Kansas in the middle of winter. When I tell them that we are going home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas, they really raise their eyebrows at me.   They have reminded me that people just usually remain on this side of the Divide until the spring weather returns come about late March.  My answer to them is generally always this~"Well those people were not born and raised in Kansas."  But hey, I do appreciate their thoughts and concerns. Truly I do, but we are going back to be with our families this year and one way or the other, we will make it.  I am most grateful that Mike is travelling back with me and that I do not have to go alone.  But even if he could not have taken the time off, I would have gone anyway.  It means that much to me.

Mid-afternoon has arrived here now and the sky is most surely dark and cloudy.  All the way around us we can see that the storm is hitting the mountains and down in the valley we find protection from the worst of it.  Cold intermittent rain falls down upon the earth here in Montrose County and the weather app on my phone says it's a cold 43 degrees.  Wow, that same weather app also tells me that back in Reno County folks there are enjoying a balmy 77 degrees right now.  Lucky ducks, that's what you guys are!  I'm glad for you and can only imagine that folks are out enjoying every minute of it.  I'd sure be doing that if I were them.  

One thing I have learned in the nearly year's worth of time that I've either been visiting or living in Colorado is that the weather can change quickly and for anyone who travels over the mountain passes to get to where they must be, well you best be doing so very carefully.  I learned to have a lot of healthy fear and respect for driving through the high country when I first came here to visit in January of this year.  It only took me one time of landing in a snow covered ditch on the way back to Hutch in February to learn just how serious driving around here in the winter time can be.  Luckily for me, that time I was only 28 miles away from Montrose and could return back to wait out the remainder of the storm with Mike.  I was fortunate~I got out.  That's not always the case and with so many areas around the mountains that receive absolutely zero cell phone service, well you are taking a lot of chances just to try it in the first place.  I know that and promise to always remember it in my desire to get back to Kansas from time to time.

You know, I keep seeing all of these "signs" that I'm no longer in Kansas any more and one of those signs was shown to me at school this week.  After years and years of passing out notes from the Hutchinson Recreation Commission for kids to become involved in basketball and other sports during the winter season, I have finally passed out my first notes for kids to sign up for skiing and snowboarding classes down at Telluride.  Wow, now that was a weird feeling to me.  One of my students asked me if I knew how to ski and when I told them the story of "old lefty", one of my boys wisely said to me....  "Uhmm, maybe learning to ski isn't such a good idea for you Mrs. Renfro."  I tell you what~I couldn't agree more with that young man's words of wisdom.  I think I'll just save myself for snow shoeing.

Hope that you all are enjoying a wonderful weekend, wherever you may be this good day.  Take care of yourselves, all of you.  I like having you all around, alive and well.  Be at peace this day.  See you Kansas in just a few more days.

The road to Kansas is right behind me in this photo from this afternoon.  Thinking it would be a whole lot safer to just stay put until things calm down a bit over Monarch Pass.  I'm not a fan of winter, blizzards, or wind gusts at the 11,000 feet elevation mark.  Our day to come home will get here soon enough.  Love you guys, all!

upon having to admit that it sometimes still bugs me

From the land of far, far away....

Vanity reared it's "ugly head" this morning and it gave me pause to stop and think about what is most important to remember in this life and equally so, what is important to not.  From the files of "what really bugs me once in a while", comes today's blog post and the subject is how vain I have sometimes become.

It all started late last evening when  I was looking at some of the beautiful wedding photos that were taken this past July when my oldest son Ricky married the most wonderful young woman named Angie.  Their ceremony took place on Whidbey Island, in the Puget Sound area of Washington.  They exchanged their vows in a lovely clearing, down the path from Angie's parents' home in front of a small group of their family and closest friends.  It was kind of like a "fairy tale" wedding of sorts and I was so thankful to be able to fly from our home here in Montrose to be with them that day.  The photos that were taken captured the moment of that special afternoon all the way from siblings laughing and carrying on with one another, to a much in love bride and groom exchanging their vows underneath a stately tree, to the fun and laughter of the dinner and reception afterwards.  And then, well then there was the photo, the one that caught my attention and made a frown come to my face.

It was actually a very nice picture and one that showed a lot of love between a mother and her son.  I had just pinned on Ricky's boutonniere for him and the photographer was there to capture the moment between mother and child.  Yet as I sat there gazing at that image on my computer screen, the first thing I noticed wasn't how handsome my son looked in his tuxedo or the love that I felt in my heart for him.  Nope, the first thing I noticed was "old lefty" and how different it looked, particularly the way the skin on my left hand is wrinkled up three times more than on the right.  And I shuddered as I looked at it with realization that man, it doesn't look so pretty any more.  For a moment in time I felt bad, really bad about the aesthetic appearance of that limb that went through so much after my cycling accident in 2011.  Then, I felt shame and it wasn't the kind of shame that says "oh my arm and hand look awful" but rather the kind of shame that goes along with "you should be glad that you have an arm left to do that for your son."

Friends, do you have trouble with vanity?  Perhaps not but I'd be the first to admit  that  I sometimes do, particularly where my left arm is concerned.  It's not like it hits me in all circumstances, in all things.  But it does from time to time and I don't like that about me.  For some of us, it's hard to accept gray hairs, wrinkles around our eyes, extra pounds around our middles or any other thing you might think of.  As a society, we spend billions each year on cosmetic procedures to do what we deem makes us look better, young, and more alive. As for me, shoot I can deal with "old lefty's" not so "straight as an arrow" formation but dang it, the withered skin on my left hand still bugs me every once in a while.  I thought I had gotten over that part of it but after noticing it as I gazed at the photo shown above, I realized that it's something I must still be working on.

But you know what, there's another picture I saw last evening and it's one that reminded me of something far greater than my worrying about the very aged appearance of one of my limbs.  It's a photo that shows something far more worth my thoughts and concerns.  Take a look below....

 Meet the beautiful and sweet bride that my son married that July day.  She is now my new daughter-in-law, Angie Miller.  Angie is everything that a mother could for wish for and I know how blessed I am to call her child #4.  The first time I saw her was about 3 years ago or so when Ricky brought her to Hutch in order that we could meet one another.  I remember that first time as she walked up the sidewalk in front of my home on East 14th Street, that I hoped she would be the one who would become my oldest son's wife and sooner or later, the mother of his child. God blessed them and He blessed me.  Come the beginning of March of next spring, my first grandchild will be born.  My heart is filled with thanks for the gift and I'm grateful that Angie carries that little tiny baby inside of her own body, protecting it and loving it even before its arrival into this world of ours.  God is good and I know it.

"Old lefty" has been through a lot and as the time goes on, I notice it more and more.  From the withered skin on still half asleep hand, to the "bump" that never quite went back to normal on my wrist, to the fact that from my left shoulder down the alignment of my body has pretty much dropped by 3/4 of an inch or so, hey it's different you know?  I remember with a smile on my face the little kids at school back home in Hutchinson who from time to time have rubbed their soft little hands over my skin and when I asked them why they were doing that, they always had the same reply....  "Oh I just love the way your grandma skin feels Mrs. Miller!" Hey, now I guess I can indeed live up to their idea and be most grateful that my "grandma arms covered by that infamous grandma skin" will indeed soon be holding my very own grandbaby.  Now that's a gift and I will never forget it.

Thanks friends for listening as I called myself out here and I suppose it doesn't hurt every once in a while to give your own self a talking to!  I think I just did that.  I have said it before and will say so again many times in the future.  I thank you for your friendship and indeed for the fact that you didn't choose me to include in your life because I was perfect because oh my goodness that's never going to be case.  Oh yeah, and the reason that I chose you as friends had nothing to do with what you looked like on the outside, how much money you make, where you live, or what knowing you can do for me.  I choose you, each and everyone of you, for what is on the inside of you....your kind and loving hearts.  May God bless you today on this Friday, the 15th day of November of 2013.


Where did 30 years go? These 3 little people, all from the same town of Haven, Ks., born on the same day in 1980.  This was the occasion of their third birthday party.  None of the mothers knew one another even though we lived close by each other and passed one another on the street all the time.  We became friends and the mothers of 3 great children. Can't hardly imagine that the guy on the right, the one that I belong to, will soon be a parent himself.

~as I remember my brother~

Good morning to you dear friends and family from a place just a few miles down the road, well ok maybe more like 600 miles but what's a few miles between friends?  It's the early morning here and darkness still surrounds this side of the Continental Divide.  Welcome to Sunday morning, the 10th day of November in the year 2013.  A year ago today, I would have never dreamt of being here where I am this morning.  Montrose, Colorado was unknown to me and Hutchinson, Kansas was where I thought my life would continue to play out for years to come.  Things change and life goes on.

I am looking at the calendar this morning and thinking to myself, as usual, "Where in the world does time go?"  It's a question most all of us ponder from "time to time" and with no pun intended there, it's a valid one to be asking.  We wake up of the morning, taking for granted the very act of arising from a night's rest and head out the door each and every day. For most of us, our daily routine goes along as planned and when night falls we just go back to bed in anticipation of starting the following day anew.   Yet for some, today will be their last one and life as the rest of the world will know it continues on.  

Six years ago on the 12th of November, 2007 life ended for a wonderful man, my brother Mike Scott.  He was young, at least by my standards, having not even reached his 63rd birthday before he passed.  The ravages of ALS/Lou Gehrig's disease took their toll quickly on him, with very little time between the diagnosis of what he was ill with and the time he took his last breath in the early morning hours of that day in November.  I guess it is true to say that thankfully he didn't have to suffer with it for long.  Since his death I have read many stories of folks who have had to linger on for many more months and years than Mike had to.  It is not a fun existence but rather a fight for every breath you must take.  For the blessing of a quick passing, I give thanks to God.

It has only been in the time that has passed since his death in 2007, that I have fully realized the lessons that my brother's illness taught me, his younger (by 10 years) sister.  As I look at it, the unfolding of those lessons learned has come to me at just the right moment in time.  They arrived at precisely when I needed to learn them and I recognize them for the gifts that they surely are.  My brother is still my teacher and I like to remember him in that way.  From Heaven above, I believe he looks down upon me and sends encouragement at times when it is needed the very most.

A strange lesson that I learned from my brother's death and the passing of my mom 6 weeks earlier in 2007,  was the desire and drive to capture in a pictorial way the "every day" life we all enjoy.  People who know me or see my page on Facebook will attest to the fact that I take a lot of photos each and every day.  It is seldom that my camera is far from my side and if I don't have my regular camera, then I'm always grateful for the one on my cell phone.  I choose to remember each and every day I've been gifted in this life by the God who made me and sustains me all the time.  From deer herds to kids at school, from sunrises and sunsets, from me looking my worst to me looking slightly better (lol) I've taken a lot of pictures.  Did you know that there is beauty in a clothesline full of clothes drying in the great outdoors?  There is if you remember what a blessing it is to be able to do that in the first place.   My brother and my parents are no longer here to be included in the visual diary of my life here on earth and I miss that part very much.  Yet even as they are gone, I still strive to capture what remains here for me and as I look back on the hundreds and thousands of pictures that I've taken since 2007, I have absolutely no regrets.  

Just this morning, actually about an hour ago, my brother taught me yet another thing and this one was a lesson in vanity.  I have this stupid crown on one of my front side teeth that just absolutely won't stay put.  Three times this year it has fallen off, most recently last evening.  It's not a "look" that I like.  It's one thing to be 8 years old and lose a front tooth and quite another to be a 58-year old and lose one.  I got some "repair" material from the local pharmacy and actually cemented it in on a temporary basis until I can get to the dentist tomorrow here in Montrose.  All night long, I tossed and turned afraid of losing it in my sleep by either swallowing it or spitting it out from "here to tomorrow".  When I woke this morning it was still where I put it last night and for that I was grateful.  But what about if it falls out again today and I can't get it back in before I see someone tomorrow about it?   What then?  Then I turned on my computer and saw a photo of my brother on Facebook, one when he was in the hospital a few days before he passed at his home in Haven, Kansas. A reminder of what I should be thankful for, that's what that picture ended up being. 

During the last weeks of his life, ALS had overtaken his body enough that his breathing became very compromised.  The very act of taking a breath, can you imagine it?  How many times have you and I involuntarily breathed in and out during the last 5 minutes?  More than we can imagine.  Of necessity, the doctors knew that Mike needed to be on a ventilator as breathing on his own was now out of the question. As I saw the photo there of my brother still smiling at the camera even though he was getting his respirations in an artificial manner, it sure gave me pause to think.  Mike would have been glad that his only real problem in life would be a loose front crown on a tooth.  He could have lived with that, literally.  And if he could have been "ok" with that, then what about me?  Will I survive until I get to the dentist?  Probably so and thinking about it, I'm pretty sure that Peggy Renfro's death certificate will never read, "She died of embarrassment when her front crown fell off."  Thanks brother, I needed it.

Well, the morning time is beginning to make its arrival on the horizon now and it's time to get the day going.  Please go out and make it a great day for yourselves, enjoy it on behalf of my brother.  He'd have been glad for you to do just that.  Mike Scott was just that kind of guy.  November 10th, 2013 is a beautiful day to be alive in so get out there and accept it for the real gift that it is.  

See you in Kansas everyone in just 17 sleeps more.  Many reasons to be thankful this year!

         The day we walked for my brother, September of 2010 in Wichita, Kansas.  And hey, go ahead to flash the peace symbol to all that you meet.  My brother would have loved that.

He loved this spot on the earth as much as I do.  It was "home" for all of his years.

It may have taken his life, but ALS could not take his spirit from us here.  He was a wonderful man whose legacy will live on forever.

for the things that money will never be able to buy

Greetings my dear friends and family from Montrose, "we might as well be Utah", Colorado.  It's the beginning of a new day here along the Western Slopes and I'm thinking of you all with thankfulness.  I remember you often and I hold you close in my memory each day, always hoping that you know how much you mean to me.  I may be 611 miles or more away from you all but in my heart, you are as close as can be.  I'm going to keep you there always!

Yesterday was a pretty good day at Olathe Elementary and the time flew by us as we kept more than busy in our fourth grade classroom.  Finally at long last we finished the book we've been reading called "Out of the Dust".  It was a great story that we really enjoyed reading and listening to.  Set in the years 1920-1935, it tells of the life of a young girl named Billie Jo and the trials and tribulations of growing up during not only the Great Depression but the Dust Bowl days in the great state of Oklahoma as well.  Her story is a sad one, filled with the many "crosses" that she had to bear.  From being born one August day in 1920 right there on the kitchen floor to parents who were wishing for a son rather than a daughter, to accidentally catching her pregnant mother afire and two days later losing both her mother and newborn brother because of it, to life afterwards with a father she had difficulty communicating with and the hardship of living in the Panhandle area of Oklahoma during the Dust Bowl, hey this kid went through a lot.  It was interesting to watch my students' reactions as I read to them and to answer (or at least try to) their questions of what was happening in the story.  Reading this great piece of literature opened up a lot of other opportunities for learning as they begged to know more about the time of the Dust Bowl and how people survived it.  So for the last month, we have learned more than I originally hoped for and I could not have been happier.  The story ended up having a decently happy ending and I'd highly recommend it to anyone out there looking for a great read thus providing my shameless plug for Karen Hesse's 1997 Newberry Award winning book.  It's one of those books a person could read again and again.

At the end of the book, Billie Jo paused a moment to give thanks for the way life ended up turning out for her.  She was finally able to forgive herself for accidentally throwing a pail of burning kerosene out the door just as her 9-months pregnant mother came around the corner.  She was able to begin to look at her own burned and scarred hands from that same moment in time, not as useless appendages but rather as extensions of her own mother's life as she struggled to begin to play her beloved piano once more.  And as Billie Jo found herself beginning to move "Out of the Dust" she found a renewed since of spirit and life for which she gave many thanks.  Her "Thanksgiving list" that named the simple things of her life for which she was grateful was very heart warming to read.

I would never pretend to have gone through half of what this young girl did, even though my life has been at times quite tumultuous.  Her list of things she was happy for contained the simple stuff~that the dust would go away each day, that her her now crippled hands could once again play the notes of the piano's music, that finally she could be at peace with her life and find happiness everlasting.  As for me, I'm just glad that I chose to read the book to them.  They loved it and it was one of the first times I remember reading a book to children where, upon reading the very last page to them, they wished it would continue on.  They waited for me to return it to our school library and then each of them began the "mad race" to try and check it out after school.  Several wanted to reread it on their own and to that I say a huge AMEN!

I have read with interest many of the posts on my friends' Facebook pages that tell of what they are thankful for each day.  Time and time again, they don't mention the expensive stuff that we try to accumulate in this life but rather they mention the things that all the money in the world can never buy.  You know what I speak of here because everyone of you holds in your heart the same treasures that I do.  Our family and loved ones, friends and health, jobs and shelter are things we hold very tight to.  Nice cars, expensive technology and the latest of cell phone gadgets come and go and that's a fact.  The best things of this life don't come with a price tag and can never be found as you shop online or visit a fancy department store.  I want those "best" of gifts for myself and I'm sure you would agree.

Today at school I am going to ask the kids to come up with their own list of "Thanksgiving" similar to the one that Billie Jo wrote in the last pages of "Out of the Dust".  It will be interesting to read their ideas and see what it is that they themselves are truly thankful for.  I'm going to be modelling the idea for them on the board with my own list of ideas and when I do, I know what it will look like.  Your name will be on my list and I'm gonna have to write "tiny" to get you all on there, but don't worry because I will  :)

 In everything, each day of the year through the good and the bad, please remember to give thanks.  Take care of one another today and stick together, just like glue.  Geesch, it's already the 8th day of November and a great day to be alive in.  Rejoice and give thanks!



                                                 

the teacher who thought she was ready to retire, twice already........

                                              The teacher that I still am today.
Just a little farther down the road from Kansas, across the big mountain and on the "other side.

Sometimes I try to remember so that I will be sure to not forget~

Sometimes I try to remember what life was like for that little fourth grade girl shown above and in my remembrance I always hope that it makes me more empathetic for the nine and ten-year olds that I'm in charge of each and every school day.  As a now very grown up 58- year old, I often fear that I've lost touch with what it was like to be a kid.  In today's world, children in the fourth grade and heck even much earlier for that matter, are expected to know things that back in 1964 were reserved for the junior high and high school crowd.  In many ways, they are no longer allowed to be "kids" and that makes me sad to say that. 

 The painfully shy, little brown-haired and blue-eyed girl that I was in those days had the blessing of  growing  up in a small rural community in south central Kansas.  In many ways, my hometown of Haven, Kansas is very much like the south western Colorado community I teach in now, Olathe.  Oh yeah sure, there are ranches instead of farms here and the major crops grown are alfalfa and corn instead of Hard Red Winter wheat, but the feel of the place is so much the same.  I think that's why I find myself growing attached to that spot on the earth much more so than here in Montrose where we make our home.  It's nice to make the journey ten miles up the road each day and know that for the next 8 hours I'll be with a group of young people that I've grown to love.  I remind them all the time of the same story, the story of a lonely and homesick school teacher from Kansas who searched all summer long to find them.  And when I had nearly given up and thrown in the towel to surrender, there they were at just the right moment in time.  Geesch, I think I may have told them that story one time too many.  Yesterday as I reminded them of it, one of my dear young men finished my sentence for me......"And when you were JUST about ready to give up Mrs. Renfro, there we were!" and inside of me, my heart sang.

I could tell you that every day things go smoothly inside of our classroom and that we never have any problems at all, but that would be an untruth.  Many days there are things that arise, feelings that get hurt, struggles with learning and just a general sense of "what the heck do we do now?"  When personalities conflict with one another (and by the way, I'm part of that mix too) I remind them of one thing.  For nearly 8 hours of our waking day, we are together, all of us, in one room.  That room is our home for the day and all of us inside are like a family.  It's as if I am  like the mom (well grandma now I guess LOL) and they are the same as  brothers and sisters.  While we may not always get along with one another the bottom line is that we stick together, just like glue.  We try to settle our differences quickly and move on just like any good family would do.  When we are there we "cover one another's back" and protect each other to the end.  It's an idea I have to remind them of from time to time but they know what I mean and continue to try to live up to that standard of behaviour.  It's not easy being a kid in today's world.  I want them to know that in our room and in our school they can be safe and able to learn.  They are welcomed in every morning with the knowledge that each day is a gift, a "do over" from the day before.  I like that.

You know, I do believe that the spirit of that little fourth grade girl that I used to be, really still lives on inside of me these days.   She remembers the struggles of school, especially arithmetic (somewhere a kid reading this is saying ,"what the heck is arithmetic?").  She remembers the joy of being a great speller who now in her older years has to remember that not every kid is going to be the best of spellers.  That little 9-year old girl that I used to be often gives me a nudge in the side when I get upset over things that my class does from time to time.  The nudge is really like a thump upside the head that reminds me, hey they are just kids and I used to be just like that myself.  Their teacher makes mistakes, sometimes on a  daily basis.  But as I remind them all the time, it's the learning from our errors that ends up being the best kind of education EVER.  I love them all and I guess maybe they love me too, least wise they sure keep coming back every morning :)

Time to head out the door soon and meet the day.  Everywhere across the country today, teachers are teaching and children are learning.  Please pray for all teachers and students that our endeavours in obtaining knowledge  would be successful.  Now more than ever, students are expected to learn even more and trying to crowd all of that into an already short school day is a pretty daunting task.  Have a great Wednesday everyone out there!  

Even on our "not so good" days, these guys are still keepers!  I love them, all of them.

 The last day of school, 2010 with the group of students that I retired with the "first time" around now at Avenue A Elementary in Hutchinson, KS.

A bunch of fourth-graders of the more "mature" side of life~the friends of my childhood, comrades of my youth.  We went through the first part of our lives together.  Friends forever, that's what we are.

~in this month of being thankful

Good morning dear friends~5:25 in the a.m. here and just about time to go and brush the snow off of the car and head out the door to school.  Short of a snowfall of 4 feet or more, school is ALWAYS on in this neck of the woods.  I should have known it would never be cancelled and that Coloradoans are a hearty bunch of folks when I heard that we go out for recess every day of the year here, snow or not.  Guessing it would be wise to bundle up out there :)

Yesterday at school one of my students showed up on crutches and a pretty hefty cast on his leg.  He broke it this past weekend doing stuff that kids just normally do.  It was an accident that he will never forget.  Did I ever feel sympathy/empathy for him and I found myself giving him the same advice that I gave to little NaDonna back home in Hutchinson when we were both members of the "broken arm club" together.  "It gets better!"  That little guy is in for several weeks of feeling the itching and discomfort of having his own personal exoskeleton but as all kids are, Kael is resilient.  Not sure that I've seen a tougher kid than him but bless his heart, it won't be all that much fun.  Oh yeah, for those who are thinking it...don't worry, I don't plan to join his "broken bone" club.  I promise!

I was looking back at my blog posts this morning from two years ago in November as I remembered the folks who helped me when my accident happened in August of 2011.  I had been so grateful for whatever they had done to help me, all the way from the front lawn of my house in Hutchinson, to the ER at Hutch Hospital to the Kansas Orthopaedic Center in Wichita and everywhere else in between.  I decided to reprint those posts below if you would care to read.  To all of the medical personnel out there, anyone who is responsible for taking care of the injured and the sick, I say a huge word of thanks!  What would we do without you guys to help us?  We'd be in a big world of hurt, literally.  Have a great day everyone and be safe and healthy.  Doctors, EMS folks, nurses, and hospitals are busy enough as it is.  Besides that, I kinda like having you all around here, alive and well!

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Part 1-Thanking my first responders

The days that have followed my November 4th dr. appointment, the one that said "Peggy Miller, you are free at last, at least until the next surgery", have flown by quickly.  I have returned to doing many of the same things that I did before my August 4th accident and the truth be told, there have been many times that I have almost forgotten that I had been hurt.  Sometimes, particularly if I am wearing long sleeves, you wouldn't even know that there had been a problem in the first place.  

But as the days continue to move towards my next surgery in late December, I am keenly aware that "old lefty" still has some serious challenges ahead.  Most of my left hand has returned to sleep again, save only "lucky" (my middle finger) that faired pretty well all along.  My wrist still has the notorious "bump", the result of the helter-skelter reattachment of the bone that had broken off of the ulna side.  At times, especially when I bump up against something, it hurts and I know it's there.    Although I am using my left hand and wrist as much I can, without the surgery I'm guessing it's not going to improve much more from its current state.  Yet, even in all of this, I continue to count myself so blessed and fortunate.

 I have spoken many times about the "miracle workers" at Kansas Orthopaedic Center in Wichita.  Dr. Chan and his staff, Kim Lockwood and his staff in physical therapy, and everyone else over there, have all worked together to make sure that I am as healthy as I am today.  But there were other "miracle workers" that I met during this ordeal, and today, on this Thanksgiving Eve, I made it a point to look them up and thank them for what they did for me.


I don't remember exactly everything about what happened in the hour or so after I landed, smack dab, in the middle of the curb in front of my home.  Some of it is just a blur to me now.  But there were many things I do vividly recall.  My son, Grahame, was just coming out of the house and found me in a crumpled heap.  I scooped up "old lefty", limped over to my pick up and yelled at Grahame that I needed to get to the ER and NOW.  I remember Grahame driving as fast as he could safely do so down 17th Street and me yelling and crying out in pain about every block or so.  


It couldn't have taken us more than 5 minutes to get to the ER and by the time we made it there, I told Grahame to just drive through the garage area and start laying on the horn and surely someone would hear it and come to help.  Sure enough, horn blaring all the way into the garage, it worked.  By the time Grahame put the truck into "park", a nurse was heading our way, wheel chair in tow.  Her name was Kristi Sourk and she will forever be at the top of the list of my all-time favorite people.  When I went out to the hospital to meet with her this morning, I was disappointed to learn that she was not able to be there today.  Seems as though the sickness that has made its rounds all over Hutch as of late, finally caught up to her.  Even nurses get sick!  We talked by phone though and made plans to meet on Monday of next week for the first time since August 4th.  I told her that I was going to tell her story and so it does go......


I remember the first words out of my mouth to her~"I fell and it's broke!" and I definitely recall her comment back to me, "You know, I think you're right!"  With that she whisked me away, straight back to a room and the whole recovery process ordeal began.  I went through triage right there in the hospital garage in the first 2 minutes of my arrival.  Within a half-hour, I was being readied for surgery.


One of the things that struck me about Kristi that morning was the overall presence of calm that she had about her.  Here I was, half-crazed out of my mind in pain, and yet she stayed the course without becoming rattled herself.  When the ER doctor arrived, in record time by the way, he asked me about the medicines I was allergic to...and funny how you remember sometimes exactly what you say to someone, but here was my response..."I'm allergic to penicillin, Sulfa, and Bactrim but I dang sure am not allergic to morphine and I want it right now!"  (actually, I kind of cleaned up that comment...)  No sooner had I said the word morphine, that Kristi squeezed my shoulder with syringe in hand and said, "That's what I'm giving you right now, Peggy.  It's going to help very soon."


There were so many good nurses and CNAs that were in and out of that room in the first hour.  As I've mentioned before, they didn't have to tell me how bad I was hurt because all I had to do was to look at their faces each time a new one entered my room. That "quick" astonished glance at my arm and then an even quicker glance away from it told me that it didn't look so pretty.  But it was  Kristi who stayed by my side the entire hour that I was in the ER.


I recall her asking me if I wanted them to save the clothing I was wearing or to just to cut it off of me.  By that time a whole lot of moaning and groaning was going on (and it was me doing it, not the nurses by the way.. LOL)  and I just said "cut it all off me".....That whole act, of having to remove a patient's clothing in such a manner, was done in such a reverent and respectful way.  I thought of that later on with much appreciation...  Regretfully I admit that my choices of words at that particular time would have made even a sailor blush.  I had to have been the world's worst patient that she had ever seen, but Kristi still treated me with dignity, compassion and respect.  Not sure a patient could ask for much more than that from their nurse.  


A strange thing I recall is that she reached up and took the ear bud from my MP3 player out of my ear and said, with a smile on her face, that if she couldn't listen to music, then I couldn't either.  I hadn't even realized it was still playing! I must have been out of my mind, realizing later that the song playing at that time was Creedence Clearwater Revival's~Fortunate Son and the "Peggy Miller way" of listening to music has only one setting for volume-VERY LOUD.   I told her that I was wearing a special ankle bracelet and to try to save it for me...heck that was already taken care of by her 15 minutes earlier.  When I didn't have the presence of mind to speak for myself, she just took charge for me.  


One hour after arrival at the hospital, I was being readied for surgery and my ER stint was over.  By that point I was already living quite happily in "morphine land" and things didn't seem so bad at all.  But as they wheeled me out of there, I grabbed Kristi's hand (not with "old lefty" of course) and thanked her for what she did for me.  And as I type these words friends, all of a sudden I am over come with emotion and the lump in my throat right now is a testament to the angelic kindness of an ER nurse who helped to save me.  On this Thanksgiving Eve, my heart is full of gratitude for her and all of the nurses and health care professionals that work so diligently each and every day to save life AND limb!  May God bless them all.....  

  

What is left of my favorite Smith's Market t-shirt that I was wearing that day and "old lefty's" biking glove.  No way they were coming off of me without some very serious "scissor work".  

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Part 2-Thanking my first responders

Oh dear friends, 3 things that you really don't ever want your doctor to say to you before he does surgery on you....


"The damage is horrible-it's a total collapse."
"I'm not even sure that I can help you."
"You don't plan on having a normal wrist again, do you?"


Meet Dr. Scott Goin, an orthopaedic surgeon at Promise Regional Medical Center here in Hutchinson.  Dr. Goin was the doctor "on call" that morning of August 4th and it was him that got the word about a crazy woman who had wrecked her bike and was in big trouble.  I went back to his office today, to thank him for what he had done for me 3 months ago.

Dr. Goin and I are not strangers to one another.  He has done orthoscopic knee surgery twice now on both of my knees.  I'm sure he didn't wake up that August morning thinking that he'd be seeing me in only a few hours.  But we did meet up again and this time the trauma to my left arm and wrist was much more extensive than just cleaning out a little arthritis from behind a kneecap.  I was thankful that he was the doctor on call and by the time he saw me, I was already in a room upstairs, many miles into "morphine land".


When he took a look at the x-rays, Dr. Goin told me that he knew right away that the repair of the damage done was pretty much out of his league.  At very best, he was going to try to pin some of the bones together and then use an external fixator device to hold everything in place temporarily.  He told me it would take a while to do the surgery and it would be tricky and that he just hoped he could do this much for me.  


At that point in time, I don't think the full impact of what I had done to myself had even sunk in.  The morphine was definitely doing what it was supposed to and I barely remember myself saying to him, "Ok, just do what you can."  After he left, with what little senses I had left, I started to realize that he wasn't kidding.  All of a sudden, I began to accept the fact that the "most expensive" bike ride in the world had just taken place that morning in Hutchinson, KS.  And the cost of it had little to do with what my overall hospital bill would be, rather it had EVERYTHING to do with the possibility that I could lose the use of my arm.  And I really wasn't crazy about the prospects of my new nickname being "old-one arm."


But since Peggy Miller's name is not followed by the initials "MD" and Scott Goin's are, I had to have faith and trust in him and just sign my name on that surgery consent.  5 long hours, 2 pins, and 1 external fixator later, I was back in my room.  He told me later that he had never seen an arm get hurt in such a fashion, especially by someone just riding their bike.  A "freakish" accident if ever there was one.  The external fixator device is shown below...you don't very see very many of those used on an arm....

3 days later I was being referred by Dr. Goin to see Dr. Chan in Wichita.   Dr. Goin knew that my injuries were far beyond what he could repair in Hutchinson and he wanted to send me to the very best person he knew. You know I thanked him for his candor and honesty in dealing with my injuries.  Lots of my friends, who learned that he told me early on that he wasn't sure he could  do anything, were very surprised at his saying so.  I guess they may have thought he gave up too soon.  I, on the other hand, really appreciate the fact that he didn't "sugar coat" anything.  In this case, I was better off to know the truth right up front rather than hang on to hope that might not even be there in the first place.




When I returned to see him this morning for the first time in over 3 months, I shook his hand in thanks for what he did that day as he tried to save my arm.  He was happy to see the progress and glad to know that Dr. Chan was going ahead with the second surgery.   It sure felt good to see him and to tell how much I appreciated what he did for me.  Dr. Goin is a lot like Dr. Chan~both of them believe that the credit for getting better only starts with the doctor.  The patient is the one who has to carry the weight from then on. Getting better is the "ultimate goal."


Today on this Thanksgiving Eve, I give thanks for medical care and the doctors who provide it.  I'm so very grateful to have a job in which health insurance is one of the many benefits.  Too many folks these days have to do without insurance and for that I am very sorry.  I complain so very much about high health insurance premiums, about long waits in the doctor's office and emergency rooms, about medicine that is so expensive that you have to wonder how to pay for it sometimes.  Grumble as we human beings do, today this I know~without Drs. Goin and Chan, my "lot" in life would be so very much different than it was prior to August 4th.  They have earned "this bicycle rider's" utmost of respect forever.