the art of becoming...

well, it is just 2 weeks from the last day that I will be able to spend working and being with the children in Room 116 at Dater Montessori. I feel incredibly blessed to have had the opportunity to work with these children, and quite honestly, I get a little bit choked up at the thought of leaving them. All of the seasoned teachers that I know say, "Oh, yeah, you get used to it..." and I'm sure that I will, but I am glad to be in the place that I am. I truly appreciate and love these unique individuals.

on the last day of class before this most recent thanksgiving break, all of the children were meandering into class, and such a distinct sense of gratefulness came over me that I could barely handle it. I have been thinking often lately about what it means to be becoming the woman that I want to be, and in this moment it suddenly dawned on me that these children are shaping me and molding me into that woman. Each and every day they reintroduce me to laughter, they test and grow my patience, and they smile with an innocence and joy that I believe comes straight from the heart of God. I am starting to believe that these small moments are my closest brushes with God.

I was talking with my sister and mom this weekend about how much beauty there is in the world. We often don't take note of it, but we discussed that the times we do are the times when God is allowing us the smallest sliver of what infinite love and beauty He possesses (which I believe is far far beyond our comprehension). As we were talking about this, a song came on in the car by a singer named Amy Correia. I have heard her sing several times, and her voice carries a soulful, meloncholy, raspy power that always seems to speak to me. Her music to me is perfect, yet she is relatively undiscovered. I wondered at the number of undiscovered artists out there who continue to feel this drive within them to create, even without the fame and glory. Then I thought about how God created us with such artistic beauty and power within us, that we simply cannot keep it in. We must share it.

In a sense, that is how I feel about my experiences with children each day. Each day brings another precious, funny, or sometimes heart wrenching story- but in them lies my own beauty. I recognize my own strength in children. They are my perfect, raspy, soulful, and meloncholy voice. As emotionally exhausted as I sometimes feel, they are molding me into a stronger version of myself. They are participating in my art- the art of becoming.