February can be a stressful time for any teacher. The days are short, the weather is cold, and my students haven't been able to go outside for recess and get some fresh air for weeks. The beginning of state testing is looming over my head; a reminder of just how much more material we need to cover in the next month. Add in three graduate classes, and I now realize that I clench my jaw as a result. I need an escape; to look forward to this summer when I can work on refinishing the baseboards that will go into our new addition. We've begun the process of contacting contractors to get some estimates on our project. There's just one thing looming over my head more than everything else: the linchpin.
A linchpin is a pin that passes through the axle to keep the wheel in place. Metaphorically, the linchpin is the most vital part of a process. I've had so many dreams that have never come to fruition; a trait that I get from my mom - we're dreamers - just not quite brave enough to put that plan into action. When I have a vision, I get so mentally invested, that sometimes that's all I think about. I can get overly passionate. Sometimes, that can be a good thing; it helps that vision come to life. Other times, it becomes an obsession that gets in the way of my work. Adding onto the Little White House has been a vision of mine for quite some time. If you've talked to me recently, you know I talk about it all the time. Last year, we started gathering architectural salvage in order to use for our build. I've now located all of my necessary materials, and am ready to begin. We picked up a stunning mission style built-in cupboard in Lincoln for our future kitchen a couple weekends ago - the plan is to refinish it this summer. Just yesterday, I located a built-in closet for our future bathroom; I just need to make arrangements for pick-up, and we're ready to go. Everything's ready to go - except for the linchpin. As I'm writing this, Tyler and I are on our way to Omaha. We're headed for his semi-routine check-up with our oncologist at UNMC. His last check-up was 4 months prior, when our oncologist found some additional blood flow in his brain, which could indicate tumor growth. Instead of our regular 6 month interval, she wanted to see us back in 4 to be cautious that this hell isn't clawing it's ugly head back into our beautiful, normal life. I've come to terms that I cannot live my life in fear. I don't know what the future holds, but that's not going to keep me from living my life to the fullest. We're here and now in the present, making decisions for our family. Does it scare me to begin a huge financial project with the unknown? You betcha. The linchpin - is tomorrow, February 12, 2020. This. This day decides if we get to move forward with our addition, or if it just turns into another one of my obsolete, defunct dreams. Prayers for a clear scan and a clear conscience. I could use one less hectic thing this February.
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Kathryn HollandWife. Mother. Teacher. Lifelong student. Archives
March 2022
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