As I walk down the hall before volleyball sectionals and Fall break, a familiar smell catches me off guard. I pause, inhale deeply, and recognize it—it’s my dad. Right there, in the middle of FCE, I’m reminded that this break needs to be about family.
Leading has many roles; some that are more fluid than others. Preparing a building to get new furniture over break has nothing to do with instruction but consumed my Friday. It was a good way to keep my brain occupied and not focus Saturday would be the last day I watched Addie play volleyball. As this senior year unfolds, I find myself lingering in these moments a little longer, holding onto the smallest details. Our lives have rotated around rec, travel, and school ball and one was about to end.
Saturday came and went, like it always does. The outcome was negative and the tears flowed. Not how any of us wanted the day to go but it did. I saw the frustration and emotion in her like never before. Her reality, not mine, but I lived it with her. Her last game. Her last serve, last hit....all the lasts. 30 minutes later they were all laughing and being silly at B-Dubs. It was just a moment.
My dad always believed in her, and always said she’d be a great athlete. He would’ve loved to be in those stands, and I believe he was. He’d be proud not only of her athleticism, but of the character and natural leadership she’s developed. Those life qualities you pray to instill in your kid and then come to fruition through comments from others on the outside. But sports does not and should not define us. That's a lesson I am still learning as a parent.
I continue to walk the halls of FCE and pray these kids are taken care of over the week ahead. Pray that this staff returns rejuvenated and ready to do all the hard things. Let the building sit quiet- and wonder what it will look like on our return. Disconnect to refill my cup so I can pour into others.
Family ebbs and flows as it grows, and losing that paternal figure creates a different kind of growing pain. The natural process of loss is inevitable; how we cope with it is what defines us. Our attitude, our reactions—these shape who we are. It’s not what happens to us, but how we respond that others remember. Setting boundaries and choosing who belongs at your table becomes essential, and you find that circle grows smaller as you align with what matters. Winning sectionals becomes a mere speck in the grand scheme of life. (same with her not playing basketball but that's an entire post I can't write)
This break was filled with nothing but family outings that included all things fall. The computer stayed dead in my bag while the focus was peace. My brain is wired that there is never any quiet. My inner monologue continues until I sleep. I have to keep somewhat of a schedule or the anxiety creeps in. Not this week! I made sure school stayed on schedule for our teachers' return. I also completed one home improvement project that included learning new skills to hang a screen door and painting with spray paint. I connected with my love over several day dates, and the kids had all our attention. The family connection that can get lost in the schedules and duties of work was top priority.
And then, the smell hit me again. Out with Addie, shopping for our annual Halloween chili and fire night, I caught it once more. I even asked her, “Do you smell that? Do you know what that is?” The scent was the same for her, but the connection, for me, was something deeply familiar. Two times within a week, my first reaction was what am I missing. He is here, the spirit is opening my eyes to something, but what? I even had a random call from my Uncle Mike, while at the casino. Dad is with me for sure but trying to be patient to see His plan.
Sunday evening; reflecting on last week and full of excitement for the week to come. My eyes will stay toward the sky and I will do my best to sit in the quiet. God gives us special moments if we are open for them. It's been awhile since I've felt the spirit and it's clear I've kept those small details in focus too much. I'm attempting to journal and connect life's journeys with my work again as an outlet for that inner monologue. And maybe, just maybe, I can connect with one of you on your service and God's plan for you. This break presented challenges and successes but in many different ways than I expected.
Just Love,
Kirsten
