Spring has always been one my favorite seasons because of its beauty and temperatures, but above everything else, its breathtaking symbol of hope.
In spite of my love for spring, I can’t think of a single year that I’ve taught where I haven’t felt overwhelmed and unable to do much else besides work more hours than not in any given week in April. When the sheer volume of expectations explodes, I have to fight to find little pockets of time for anything besides parenting and teaching. (Side note, most of those above-mentioned days are pocket-free. I’m spent, people, and I know I’m not alone.)
It was just last week when I finally sat down and completed a timed free write with one of my Creative Writing classes that I started to see what brings about this disconnect between my love for spring and my lack of ability to actually enjoy the wonder that comes with this precious window of opportunity to celebrate the hope that comes in its flowery package called spring.
It’s highly unlikely that I’m going to have a carefree spring with a wide-open schedule anytime soon, but that doesn’t mean I have to settle for never soaking up what spring celebrates and personifies because I’m “too busy.” Here are a few observations and rules I’m making for myself after failing to notice or adhere to them for far too long:
- Take time to create. When I’m eyeball-deep in grading, trying to plan, dealing with student drama, and completing normal adult things like laundry and groceries, it gets really easy to be buried in an impossibly-long to-do list. As a result, I only have eyes for the to-do list. I don’t create any new things (besides maybe assignments…sorry kids). When I even take 5 minutes to do a free write with my students, I start to gain back something for myself. I’m creating something just for me, even if it’s a rambling paragraph about nothing in particular. It’s necessary to take time to create something every day for myself. Today, that creation is this blog post. Tomorrow, it might be fresh-baked muffins to pack for everyone’s breakfast. No matter what it is, I feel like a normal human being when I take time to create.
- Look for signs of hope inside when you’re too busy to spend all day outside. It’s easy to get delirious when I’m as tired as I currently am. My tired self is not nearly as kind or positive as my rested self. I can jump into a state of self-doubt or an overly dramatic viewpoint in about .3 seconds. While I’m down, I can start convincing myself that I’m not taking time to find little messages of hope, but when I stop and think about the overwhelming volume of hopeful messages I get to hear over the course of the day from all of the people in my life, it’s humbling. A letter from a student about how he or she has overcome a personal struggle, a positive note from a teacher about one of my kids, dinner ready when I get home from work thanks to my amazing husband…the hope list grows more quickly than the buds on the tree in my back yard.
- Believe in your investments. I invest a lot in what I do. Time, faith, work, learning, kindness, and love just to name a few. Investments take a long time to show their full potential, and that means that I need to hold onto hope even when the people and projects in which I’m investing are not showing me their fullest potential. Good investments will eventually yield great results. They may not look like what I thought they would, but I must have faith that the payoff will someday come.
- Take care. Take care of yourself; take care to get enough rest; take care to listen to positive, reasonable voices; take care of your spiritual needs; take care to let a little sunshine fall on your cheeks before it sets for the day.
- Know your limits. I have a lot to work on for this one, but I believe in it more and more each year. I have to forgive myself when I forget something because I had too many things I had to get done one day. I have to take time to rest when I’ve been working for many hours in a row, or I won’t produce quality work that is helpful to the people who need it. I can only do what I can do, and prioritizing is key.
I may not get the chance to leisurely walk through flower gardens and soak in quite as much time outside as I wish I could, but I’m now able to see that I get to observe and learn from living, breathing stories of hope every single day because of the people in my life, and that is enough to inspire me to keep creating and finding hope in this season.