Friday Photo: Dia de los Muertos
Posted on November 11, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe
loving fiercely | teaching audaciously | thinking deeply
Posted on November 11, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe
Posted on October 25, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe
SMACK! My head crashes into the bar, back and forth, back and forth. Up and down, side to side. I am the ball in the pinball machine taking one hit after the next. No time to take in the scenery from the top. Eyes pressed shut, arms braced, my mind drifts back to the Lamaze exercises I learned in birthing class so long ago. Go to your happy place. This too shall pass. Only the strong survive.
Posted on October 22, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe
Cameron in a Nicaraguan produce marketSometimes as I’m moving around in my day, an image gets stuck in my head that I can’t shake. Sometimes it conjures up a memory, a feeling, or provides an impulse to do something. Often, though, I just see something that I want to capture in my mind for no particular reason-it just speaks to me. I’d like to offer these images up for ‘thought contributions’-as a way to generate a community of ideas together.
At this time of year, it’s all about the harvest. Crops are ripe, summer gardens are being sowed and then tilled under in preparation for winter planting. But my garden this year – not so good. I tallied less than a dozen tomatoes, and four measley peppers. And this wasn’t due to lack of effort or care-I tilled, composted, fertilized, watered, planted and tended my crops from last April til now. I guess this just wasn’t the year. Mother Nature didn’t cooperate – our cool northern California spring wasn’t the right temperature to set fruit. Our usual one hundred degree plus summer heat never really materialized, leaving valley farmers shaking their heads and hoping for the best. Me? I keep my plants in, hoping that those green orbs will somehow ripen if I just have faith. So today’s Friday Photo reminded me of what an abundant life I have. No matter what happens to my own garden, I will have enough. I have resources to get what I need. It might not be directly from my own hands, but it will be fresh, healthy, available and enough to sustain me and my family. In today’s photo my son marvels at the bounty we found in Ciudad Dario, Nicaragua. Gorgeous produce can be had there for mere pennies-but to many Nicaraguans, pennies are like diamonds. Produce is grown on your own land, and a luxury to purchase. There are no ‘bulk buys’ or prepackaged warehouse size amounts. People simply buy what they can, only what they need. I enter this harvest season with a heart full of gratitude, and a faith that next year, my harvest will be that of my own making. What hopes do you have for the next year? Will you have an abundant harvest? |
Posted on September 24, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe
Sometimes as I’m moving around in my day, an image gets stuck in my head that I can’t shake. Sometimes it conjures up a memory, a feeling, or provides an impulse to do something. Often, though, I just see something that I want to capture in my mind for no particular reason-it just speaks to me. I’d like to offer these images up for ‘thought contributions’-as a way to generate a community of ideas together.
http://masonimages.com |
This week’s Friday photo is all about the fall. Some of us tiptoe out of summer, hoping to just hang on for one last barbeque, one last night on the patio. Others jump into it head first, eager to reap the harvest of a summer of hard work and deliberate planning.
Either way, we have hit the equinox. Day and night, perfectly divided, balanced, for a fragile moment in time before we slowly slide toward the winter solstice.
Are you ready? Can you sit back and reap the harvest of what you’ve created for your life this year? Or are you free falling, not knowing what you’re jumping into?
Posted on September 23, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe
Where I went to high school |
The 25 mile commute each day from the bubble of a community I grew up in took me from a place where crime wasn’t something we worried about. We hardly ever locked our doors, and if we broke curfew (or any other teenage rule) someone always saw us and informed our parents. We knew everyone at school, and there was no escaping a reputation that siblings had left behind. We went to school from kindergarten through graduation among children we played in sandboxes with-some might have called it utopia. Until one day…
On that day, life in our idyllic little town changed forever. One minute we were walking to Home Ec during our senior year, preparing for another period of delightful cooking instruction. The next minute, total chaos erupted just around the corner from our classroom. People were screaming and a huge crowd hovered near the art room. For a moment I thought it must be just another fight-not that fighting was an everyday occurrence. But the teacher’s grave expressions and composed panic told me this was more-much more.
Thong was different. He didn’t speak English fluently, and had seen horrors in his native country we can only imagine. At that moment on May 4, he was defending a friend who was being tormented by a red haired, light skinned bully. Words were exchanged, and before anyone knew it Thong was down, stabbed and bleeding to death.
Eight years after his death, I remember what I felt when I began teaching in my new community. I felt different. I was out of my comfort zone. I felt scared and insecure. But after a few weeks, I felt myself relaxing. I felt the love and trust of my students and their parents as they realized my care was genuine, and my passion for teaching began to override my fears of being ‘different’.
I don’t think it was until then, years after Thong died, that I really realized what Maya Angelou was saying. And now, when my daughter walks past his memorial plaque at the high school I hope she understands. Actually, I know she understands. Because what I learned from Thong and my students is a part of me, and the message flows from my heart and actions into my children at home and at school. We ARE more alike than we know, and being different is what makes life such a beautiful experience.