18 Years! {But this one holds duality: so very special AND so very difficult}

 I try not to overdo the sappy Laniel Love Story as I have written about it many times. 

 Here. Here. Here.  and Here. 

(Probably other places too!)

But our Bar Bar anniversary hits different this time. 

The invisible string that brought us into that dive bar 18 years ago was instigated, pulled, and tugged by our dear friend Tina Gill. She was a true believer in Fate and knew that we are not defined by our past, but by the choices we make in the moment.

Brian and I can't talk about our "meet cute" story {am I too old to use that term?} without talking about Tina and her "subtle" persuasive ways that got me to step out of fear into possibility. She had already been instrumental in how I was reinventing myself after Matt's accident. She helped me see that grief was only one color in my story and so many more colors were ready to be seen if I took some risks to see them. 

At Tina's insistence, "showing off my new pair of smokin' hot shoes" on a random Friday night in April to see a friend's band at the dankest bar in town became one of my most colorful experiences to date.

{I can hear her laughing at me photoshopping her head into this picture from the 10-year party!}

Tina died on December 3rd, 2023. 

We were 8 months shy of knowing each other for 20 years.

She died from complications fighting cancer and the last 11 months of her life were filled with overwhelming moments of hope and devastation for all who knew her. 

One of her friends gave her books to read during Chemo. She often gave us book recommendations during this time, but one book in particular, she bought for me and told me I had to read because it was "perfect" for me and it reminded her of me. One afternoon after a rough day of Chemo, she slowly and carefully climbed our porch stairs with her partner Jeff so I could have a copy of the book she got especially for me.

 And while this slower and noticeably "weaker" Tina was there in front of me physically, I could see her firey spirit behind those eyes and the insistence that I have this book right then and there. It was an order from Tina, and you follow orders from Tina!

I read it in a day and bawled my eyes out. 

It was beautiful. 

I raved about it, told others to read it, and kept it in my pile of "special" books that I never lend out.

I was at the hospital when she died. She had complications during surgery and the surgeons did everything they could to save her but the damage was too severe. While the doctor was telling us this, I flashed to the book. 

Remarkably Bright Creatures. 

Tina. 
My Remarkably Bright Creature was gone? 

How?
How could this happen to her? It wasn't real. It was impossible.

Why? 
Why would this happen to our Tina?  My Tina.

Our Remarkably Bright Creature.

When she gave me the book she said it reminded her of me, but of course, it reminded me of her too. This "creature" is sometimes misunderstood and overlooked, but has 

So. 

Much.

To.

Say.

Tina said so much to me over the last 20 years. 

I am trying desperately to remember it all. 

{Another lol photoshop but with Lindz!}

Our years working together at the Artisan Center wrapping gift after gift using 3 pieces of tape and extra pretties for our favorite customers. Our years in our pseudo 'book club' called "Naughty Girls Club" where we exchanged "must have" products (I still use the press and seal Saran wrap she raved about in 2006!) and built lifelong friendships. Our years celebrating birthdays, holidays (Halloween parties!!), non-holidays, happy hours, lunches, and bar crawls. Our years texting each other random shit that was seemingly pointless and silly, but now utterly urgent and priceless. Our years remembering today--the day that changed my life.

 Our Tinaversary

She always got today and our wedding anniversary mixed up. She would inevitably text or call me and say "I can't believe you and Brian have been married ____ years! Congratulations!" And I would always tell her that we didn't get married on our meet day, even though we discussed it briefly. I told her that I will always, always, always be grateful for My Tina persuading me to go out that night in my new "hot" shoes and being my "wingman" in introducing "the girls" to Brian and encouraging me to give him my real phone number on a napkin. She'd laugh, her infectious laugh, and say, "Yeah, 'the girls' wink, wink. Brian still says he was drawn to your eyes, which is why I love you guys. Your love is real and you deserve each other. I am glad I am a part of your story."  

I am too, Tina, I am too. 

She gave a toast at our wedding, (which is another story!) and has been cheering us on ever since. 

She will forever be a part of us. 

Today is rough. More days like today will be rough. But I hold on to the advice I give others in times of unfathomable grief: There is hope in surprising places. Of course, Tina reminded me of this the other day when I was looking through my stack of books and saw one of  my dogeared pages in our book:

"Despite the darkness that surrounds us, a remarkably bright creature sees the glimmers of hope."

Eighteen years ago, this remarkably bright creature pushed me out of my comfort zone. Out of layers of grief I had been hiding under, out of all the wrong arms into that dive bar, into a technicolor world where glimmers of hope revealed themselves in new ways. 

I absolutely know that Tina will continue to do this. She's too damn stubborn and persistent not to! My Tina, with her infectious laugh and ability to talk loudly (literally and figuratively lol!), will show me that as a remarkably bright creature, all of us can see glimmers of hope. 

P.S. I wrote this post for Tina's birthday years ago. 

Everything still rings true. 

{This is from my 40th birthday. Tina was my stylist. She shopped for me to get the perfect outfit, hired a make-up artist to do my hair and make-up, and made me feel like Princess Kari.}

Today Marks 20 Years

 Many of you know my story and what it means to have grief be a part of who I am. To say that I am deeply grateful to those who have supported me over the last 20 years is an understatement. I am so overwhelmed with gratitude for all of you. For those that I don’t know or who I’ve just met, this blog post is about a significant loss in my life. I was married in 2003 and my husband, Matt Love, was killed instantly in a car accident 55 days after our wedding. I have shared about the many layers of grief over the years on this little blog, feel free to stalk it if you want! I have learned so much over the last 20 years and I wanted to process a bit here again because it just seemed like the right thing to do.

So, thank you for letting me. Xoxo

On the 10-year marker of Matt’s death, I had a severe panic attack. I ended up in the ER needing Xanax and an inhaler so I could breathe properly. Breathing, as it turns out, isn’t as easy as it should be when your body betrays you and basically laughs in your face when you logically think you should be able to do what’s natural; what’s right. 

Growing up all I ever wanted was to be married and have kids. I grew up in a conservative Christian bubble where the narrative of a fulfilled life looked like marriage and kids. All through my 20’s I barely dated. I was so confused by this. I had “dedicated myself to the Lord” yet the “ultimate” reward of marriage wasn’t happening! I thought what I was doing was natural and right. Was I breathing the wrong air? Little did I know that this questioning would lead me to eventual freedom.

When I hit my 30’s I began to see that the narrow path I was on could be extended and explored. I realized that my own desires mattered; not those of what others expected of me. I got out of a toxic career and I began to discover who I really was. I felt like Julia Roberts' character in Runaway Bride when she realizes she doesn’t know what kind of eggs she really likes. She was always told what eggs to like from those around her. It turned out she likes her eggs benedict style. 

When I turned 31, I decided I didn’t want kids so badly that I would have them in an unconventional way like many of my friends were doing. I knew that raising a child on my own was not my jam and I felt true peace that if I never had kids of my own I would be totally fine. It was freeing to own this. I was still navigating what it meant to be single, but I was more confident and sure that there wasn’t a blueprint for everything like I had been taught. I had discovered freedom. I had found my own "eggs benedict". 

I met Matt when I was 32 and we started dating when I was 33. Matt was magnetic. His curiosity about life was electric. He asked deep questions about spirituality and wondered about things we were taught not to wonder about. His creative spirit was enchanting. He was charming and funny. He was different. We fell for each other hard and fast. He told me he had a daughter from a previous relationship and that his love for her spanned the whole sky. He didn’t have a place in her life, however, so being her father was foreign. He longed for this and was a continual place of heartache for him. He said he wasn’t sure if he wanted more kids and because of my recent epiphany, it sealed our hearts even more. 

We dated, got engaged, and got married between August/September of 2002 and June of 2003. Matt’s last name was Love and this is the truest thing about him. He showed me Love and how to live in the full expression of it. 

On August 15, 2003, Matt was killed in a single-car accident. He died instantly. I was at home and the Coroner had to come and tell me what happened and give me his belongings like his wallet and his wedding ring.  My world shattered. I couldn’t breathe.

The following chapters of my life were filled with lots of wrestling. I wrestled with my childhood dream of wanting to be married and have kids. Even though I had found some freedom from the religious expectations from my youth and knew that there wasn’t really a blueprint for “marriage and kids”, when I actually got married and had the potential of a kid, (through Matt’s daughter) I was faced with more questions about who I am spiritually and what I truly believed. I had to discover more about myself beyond the type of eggs I like. 

Through time, therapy, and an army of people Loving me, I realized that the answer (or parts of it) was found in the name I clung to; “Love”. My people kept showing me what it means to Love fiercely and how to use Love as a foundation for my healing. Matt had taught me to embrace this word and I have taken this and leaned into what it means to live in Love ever since. I have a different relationship with so many things because of what happened in 2003 and I have learned how to embrace who I am outside of what anyone or any institution expects of me. I Love with my whole heart. No matter what.

I met Brian in 2006 and we married in 2008. During this time, and countless times since our wedding, I have experienced different layers of Love and how expressions of Love change. Brian is someone who makes me feel seen and heard. He’s smart, funny, insightful, and loyal. He’s patient and generous. He sees me for who I am and Loves me completely. I made a conscious choice to give Brian my whole heart because we built our relationship on doing this. In doing this, however, I know that I feel gratitude for the ways that Matt laid a foundation of sorts for understanding the depth of Love in such a short time. As I continue to build my life with Brian I know that Love continues to teach me about what’s sacred and right. I’m breathing.

Over the last 20 years, I have experienced many moments with Matt. He shows up in the form of orange butterflies and certain songs. He shows up in dreams and sometimes tears. Some of his ashes are between two Blue Spruce trees at my childhood home that have been miraculously untouched by construction and progress. I visit The Trees at least once a year and Matt reminds me to continue to Love with my whole heart and stay true to who I am.

This year I got to go to The Trees with his daughter. She’s in her mid-twenties now. We've thankfully kept in some contact over the years and it's been more frequent over the last 2 years or so. I had a few boxes of his stuff and I got to give it to her this summer. I got to tell her in person just how much her dad Loves her and how alike they are. Magnetic, creative, funny, curious. She got to take pictures home of him as a young father holding the Love of his life. Today, she is linked to him through me. It’s wild. And wonderful. I am so grateful to have this relationship with her and it continues to grow and flourish. 

At the 10-year marker when I had my panic attack, my dear friend helped me realize that I hadn’t turned a corner on really shedding the shock I felt in 2003. Our bodies try to protect us. They know we can’t always take what pain really feels like, so we go numb. We turn it off. But, inevitably, the protection wears off and there’s a release. That’s what happened in 2013. Now, in 2023, I genuinely feel like I have reflected on so many layers of grief that not only can I breathe, but the light that has pushed its way through the darkness is brighter than ever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Tree pictures explanation: The older-looking pictures were taken in 2005. The Trees were so small when we put Matt's ashes there. The ones I took this year show how much growth they've had! I'm so grateful they've stayed in this sacred space untouched.

The Year of Teaching Gratefully

Well, here we are again. The end of another school year! I can hardly believe it is actually here! I finished up year 15 and it was one that challenged me and showed me that I absolutely love seeing kids push themselves creatively. When people asked me about teaching this year I told them that I was basically doing my dream job. I got to teach language arts electives {which I wrote about in last year's post here} and while it was a ton of work because I had to create a new curriculum for each class and I worked almost every weekend, the fun, like the literal fun I had with kids reading, writing and speaking every day blew me away. 

I also had the absolute privilege to build some wonderful relationships with a few kids like I’ve never really been able to before. My journalism class was truly special. It ended up being a class of 15 7th and 8th-grade girls. And, let me tell you having a class of all girls was the bomb.com. I loved it! We talked about all the things you would think we talked about. One of my favorite days was our discussion about sexism around women having periods and how uneducated our society is about them. They didn’t understand why there’s such embarrassment around a natural experience women have every month and why men {and, frankly many women!} aren’t taught more explicitly to understand it or accept it. Preach, girls! Preach! 

Another fun day was when we tried to navigate the notoriously frustrating yearbook site and ended up making up school-appropriate cuss words. We really gave that website a shovel of flame guts when it crashed. It was a real annihilation most days! {Thanfully, flame guts aside, the yearbook ended up being awesome and I am super proud of my girls!}

 

In addition to my journalism class, I had a small pod of students who I bonded with because of the combination of my planning period bumping up to my lunch. I was able to forge relationships with kids during their lunches because they would come to my classroom and we had time to chat and vent. I saw firsthand how thrilling and devastating friendships and relationships are during this time in life. And, for the record, teens/preteens with social media borders on dangerous! {I know I sound old, but...!} Dang it kids can be mean online! They post stuff that is truly, truly awful! I wish I wasn’t as surprised as I was with what kids showed me, but dang it, I was! Yikes!

This silly, old office chair ended up being the chair that kids would sit in when they wanted to chat with me. I had to "Marie Kondo" it at the end of the year because of space, and I really did thank it for its service! 

Scary social media aside, these relationships were so fun and I am grateful that they were a part of my school year. I tried to soak in and treasure the moments I shared with the people that were in front of me. Some shared random, funny stories while some shared tearful intimate fears and problems they were having with friends or family. I felt a connection that seemed to seep into my molecules a bit more this year and it was a true gift for me as I continued to heal and grow from a crazy shift in what this job is and what it means to me. 

Another pure, unadulterated joy I found this year was my bond with my students, all of my students, whether they liked it or not, and Taylor Swift. If you follow me on Instagram, you know my obsession with my best friend Tay. Well, I brought that obsession into my classroom, and attending the Eras tour in March didn’t lessen my obnoxious devotion one bit. I’m going to the July show in Denver, so the nonstop playlists and Lavender Haze kept growing. These kids had no chance. They were stuck with any sort of reference I could make to her, random trivia, {her favorite dessert is cheesecake!} and yet another countdown to the July show. {46 days as of today!}

One of a few thank you notes I received that mentioned Taylor Swift. Oh, and my love for Starbucks too. #basic

Of course, in the midst of all this goodness, I am not totally delusional. Teaching in America and in Colorado still comes with its share of heartache and struggle. The hoops we have to jump through to do what we love really sucks. The constant fight for respectable pay, understanding the real terror of gun violence within our workplace, and our need to “justify” what we do is exhausting. There are district issues and building issues to deal with too. These issues, unfortunately, hit close to home for me.

I got caught in the crosshairs of a budget cut and have had to mourn the loss of this year’s dream job. I am VERY grateful to not only have a job, but to have a job that will hopefully have some crossover with my skill set, but I am also terrified…so here it goes…

Folks, I am going to be a 7th-grade social studies teacher next year. The curriculum for 7th grade is ancient civilizations--technically it’s called, World Area Studies: Eastern Hemisphere. Hmm. I’m not sure either! 

All I know is that I will really, really try to be creative with how I present information and I will hopefully get to help students be creative with helping them see their place in the scope of history and how their story matters within the stories that we’ll explore. I also know that I need to learn a shit ton of stuff I don’t know about! Like, a whole new professional vocabulary I know nothing about. At year 16 of teaching and year 52 of life… BUT! I love a new challenge, right? {HELP ME, BABY JESUS!}

I received several amazing thank you notes and messages in my yearbook that moved me and reminded me that all the work is worth it. The one below is one that just took my breath away. It’s relatively simple, but the power it holds for me is monumental. 

Dear Mrs. Laniel,

It has been a whole semester since your class and I can’t forget the magical feeling I got when I was in your class. I felt free and as if the possibilities were endless. I am so sad that Speech and Debate is not being offered anymore, that class was truly amazing. Thank you for inspiring me. I feel very fortunate to be surrounded by people who have been nurtured by you. I will miss you!

This meant so, so much to me. I just started bawling when I read this because these words captured what I have tried to build with kids. I know in my heart that no matter what I teach I will strive to be a safe space for students to be themselves. I will strive to give them a space to be nurtured. I will strive to be myself even if I don’t know what the Neo-Assyrian Empire is. 🙂

So, as summer starts and I begin my routine of doing some crash course history learning, reading novels I’ve put off, binge-watching shows, hanging out with my nieces and nephews as much as possible {oh, and their parents too!}, going to the neighborhood pool, planning our trip to the CABIN!, planning my parents 80th birthday party and family reunion, and of course seeing Taylor in July, I will continue to reflect on how lucky I have been to learn and grow with these crazy kids. I still love teaching middle school even if I have to learn a brand new curriculum to do it and I have more gray hair because of it. 

Cheers to summer break, everyone! 

 

Merry Swiftmas!

The season of Miracles is upon us and boy, do I have a miraculous story for you!

A Swiftmas Miracle

Twas the night before The Era's Tour presale tickets and all through the house

not a Kari was resting not even her spouse.

Her ticket plan was organized, and her nerves were a flurry!

But she was a verified fan, so nothing to worry!

Her status was determined for Denver and Vegas--

Our dream of seeing Taylor could happen in two places!

Her dear Brian, a Swifty because duh,

was willing to buy the tickets because love!

The hour finally arrived the group chat was set--

We would have The Era's Tour tickets without sweat.

Little did we know The Devil is real. 

His name is Ticketmaster and his evil millions could feel.

The queue was stalled, and the tickets were lost. 

Not one time, but three! Words were cuss.

Eight hours this went on with not a ticket to secure,

Kari's heart was shattered, and she shed some tears.

Alas, one more try Brian did take

and what do you know, the line didn't break!

He swooped in for tickets, the highest in the stands.

We didn't care--we are true fans!

The prices were reasonable and we didn't get swindled,

so we took a shot at the Vegas queue because we felt quite nimble.

We quickly picked two seats that showed up by sheer luck

I can hardly believe it! We got them! What The --?!

There we sat, we could hardly believe our eyes...

We are seeing TWO Taylor Swift concerts--the ultimate prize!

All we wanted was to see Taylor Swift

And we know these miracles are truly a gift.

In March and July, we will surely be a sight,

but for now Merry Swiftmas Tay All And Tay All A Swift Night!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Holiday poems don't lie. We are very, very grateful and excited to be on the winning end of The Ticketmaster Debacle of 2022. This not-so-little miracle reminds me that there is a lot to be grateful for this Holiday season. Brian and I both have jobs we love, we know we're exactly where we should be in life right now, and we are surrounded by miracles like YOU! 

Thank you for being in our story. Thank you for showing us joy this year. And as life dishes out the unpredictable, may we all find hope in surprising places--like being 50+ years old at a Taylor Swift concert (or two!!!) 

Finding My Purpose

 Year 14 of teaching is in the books! Whew! As I wrap up all of my end of the year tasks and gear up for a week in Mexico, (I KNOW!!!) I reflect on all the places I failed, succeeded, grew, and thrived this year. 

Last year, my end of the school year post was all about goodbyes. I was leaving a place I knew and loved and I had to say goodbye to so many parts of my life that were established and thriving. So it makes sense that starting over at a new school has been WAY more emotionally draining than I anticipated. But as our holiday card stated, in the midst of the grief, I found hope in surprising places--namely through my sweet 6th graders. Someday (sadly a long, long, long time from now…) when I look back over my years of teaching I absolutely know that this year with 6th graders will be the one that transformed me.

Teaching 6th graders has shown me the goodness of teaching in ways I was missing and forgetting. They helped me remember why I got into this gig in the first place and they showed me a purity in kindness and approach to life that truly shifted my molecules. They saved me. 

I was asked over and over this year how things were going. Did I like my new school? Did I like teaching 6th grade? Was I forging connections with the community? Did I have an okay commute? Did I have friends at work? Did I like my room? Will I be returning?

The answer to all of these questions is yes but starting over has taken its toll and these yeses were not always a sure thing. Living in the nos and maybes was rough. I relied heavily on my people to navigate the gray, unsteady places the year took me. But, as I slowly figured out all of the unknowns and felt confident in my yeses, I’ve realized how fitting into a new place still requires me to trust the core of who I am and how I am wired. 

This can be a very vulnerable process! I questioned everything! How do I establish friends (especially in my 50s!) without history or a common zip code? How do I speak up for the philosophical parts of education that matter to me without being annoying? How do I stop comparing my last school to this school and just be present? How do I ask for help? How do I not feel self-conscious about how other teachers “do better” than me? How do I stop asking so many questions?!??!?!??!

The answer is that I don’t. I came to a realization that this is who I am and I don’t want to be shy about what I know, what I don’t know, and who I am professionally and personally.

I also found in answering all these questions and in telling people about my year that I am holding five things sacred to why this school works and why I am going to be okay. 

One: The kids. I really love these kids and I am truly grateful for them every day. 

My labor of love--the yearbook-- holds some pretty sweet messages from kids. *sigh* So grateful.

Two:  My lunch bunch! I have 3 friends that I eat with every day and I WOULD DIE WITHOUT THEM! 

Three: My commute. It’s truly the most perfect commute. It’s not too long or short and it’s all highway so there’s never really any traffic.

Four: My classroom. I was worried about my classroom when I first saw it because it is an odd shape and was not really set up the way I like to teach (it has individual desks instead of tables and chairs…) But I quickly realized that the back wall of windows SAVE MY LIFE EVERY DAY! Seriously. The row of trees and large lawns right outside my windows give me life. 

My Trees:)

Five: The English Language Arts (ELA) team and my new opportunity to expand my ELA passions next year. I am surrounded by very smart, innovative, fun, and supportive people and I am so grateful.

As far as extending my ELA passions, the structure of the ELA department shifted and an amazing opportunity came my way. I will be teaching language arts elective classes which means engaging with readers, writers, and speakers in a context outside of their “regular” ELA classes. I am building my own curriculum and will be engaging with all grade levels. Students choose their electives so I will have students who mostly, kinda, sorta, in theory, want to be there! 

I will be teaching speech and debate, dystopian writing, literature & film and I will continue to teach journalism and do the yearbook so it will be a FULL year, but I am super excited to discover how students express themselves beyond the traditional ELA structures.

In a very random conversation with Alexa one day, I asked her what my purpose was. She said this: “The purpose of your life is to express your unique strengths, talents, and creativity in a manner that serves others and will sustain and fulfill you.” This definition struck a chord with me. I realized that I am in a place where I can truly live out my purpose. I am beginning to feel like myself and I am starting to take root here. I want to be a part of what Manning has to offer and feel connected to helping students thrive. I want to start this next chapter of my teaching career with confidence that I am in the right place at the right time. 

But first I want to drink margaritas by the pool and watch the sunset over the Pacific ocean. 

Cheers!

Dismantling a Dangerous Narrative

 My journalism class is putting together a thematic magazine for their final projects. One group is doing a magazine called "Equality Daily". They will highlight and discuss inequalities towards people of color, women, people with disabilities, and the LGBTQ+ community. Pretty amazing, right?!

One section of their magazine is called “What We’re Reading” and they are writing book reviews. I was having a conversation with the group about this and I mentioned that I just read a book about a woman’s experience with having a disability in today’s world. One of the girls said, “Mrs. Laniel! Will you be our guest columnist and give us a book review on that book?” How can you say no to that?! So, I wrote it up and decided that I not only wanted to be featured in their magazine (So dang cute!) but I wanted it to be in this little space on the internet. Enjoy!

Dismantling a Dangerous Narrative

Book Review: by Mrs. Laniel

            An incredible book was recently recommended to me and it is one of those “this is changing my life” sort of books. Sitting Pretty by Rebekah Taussig is a series of memoir essays describing her life in a disabled body. 

            Her experiences illuminate the many ways our society isolates, erases, simplifies “normal”, and silences those in the disability community. She says in her book that she wants to complicate the traditional tropes about what is “normal” and acceptable in our society; not only in how we treat those with disabilities but how we view our privileged, able-bodied selves. The lines around what it means to be disabled, able-bodied, showing kindness, and the reality of accessibility are meant to be blurry, gray lines even though we have been taught that they shouldn’t be. She reminds us that a whole group of people has been marginalized and we have marginalized them because our reaction to disability is learned, not innate. This book helped me understand that we must dismantle the ableism narrative and oppressive culture we have created for those with disabilities. We must add our own complex stories to the over-simplified and non-inclusive narratives that exist.

Another important lesson that I take from this book is how we view kindness. We have been taught over and over that people with disabilities need able bodies to survive. Because of this, we overtly (and often through viral videos) praise the able-bodied “hero”. We must change our selfish outlooks in how we praise the “kind helper” as the heroes of the story because their able bodies helped a disabled body. We instead must put a spotlight on the disabled body and seek to understand their needs and not assume that the able-bodied “heroes” are the only characters in the story.  

While Taussig’s disability is more visible because she uses a wheelchair, her advocacy for those with less visible disabilities is loud and clear. She tells us that we must not perpetuate the idea that every person in a wheelchair should walk in order to be “healed” in order to be valued or deemed successful and a contributor to our society. The pity and lack of understanding we have as a society towards the disabled community is nothing less than criminal. 

Taussig gives voice and language to her readers to advocate for a more inclusive and informed view of disabilities because they affect all of us. Every day. All the time. All of our bodies hold an abundance of strengths and frailties and as she so elegantly stated, sometimes those are one and the same. 

The Miracles That Save Us

 Happy Holidays from the Laniels!

This little blog started with the premise that miracles can be found in the most mundane of spaces in our lives. It’s the little moments that shift our perspective and shape our worldview so we’re kinder, happier, and able to extend grace to those around us. The thing about miracles is that they can’t always be explained. They show up and give us hope when we least expect them. 

The Laniels had miracles show up when we least expect them and we’re so very grateful.

Brian spent half of 2021 unemployed and searching for the right fit for his skill set and a job that would give him joy. The miracle of the perfect job showed up in July. His former company, Marsh, where he worked for 17 years, rehired him into a new position that is challenging and exciting. He’s thriving in learning new things, meeting new people, and working remotely so the kids aren’t lonely. (Brian is EXTREMELY patient with these VERY NEEDY animals…what a saint!)

He turns 50 in May, so hopefully, we’ll celebrate in style! 

Brian's daily view

My miracles have shown up in the form of 11-year-old kids who surprise me every day. Teaching 6th grade was not on the bucket list, but it has turned out to be an incredible experience of embracing all sorts of different learners and super random stories about super random things. These kids have truly saved my life. Starting at a new school, teaching a new grade, figuring out new systems of being a part of a school community and so much more have challenged me in ways that caused me to question everything. But these amazing little miracles have shown me how to slow down, breathe, listen, embrace challenges, and hope. (Here is some background to this!)

This note from a student killed me!

I once again (14th time!)  read the holiday story, “The Lump of Coal” by Lemony Snicket to my students. It is about finding unexpected miracles during this holiday season. It says:

"It is a miracle if you can find true friends, and it is a miracle if you have enough food to eat, and it is a miracle if you get to spend your days and evenings doing whatever it is you like to do, and the holiday season--like all the other seasons--is a good time not only to tell stories of miracles, but to think about the miracles in your own life, and to be grateful for them." 

As I sort through all that this year has brought us and what is yet to come and I am overwhelmingly grateful for all the miracles that have shown up. 

YOU are one of our miracles this year and we are so very grateful.

Cheers to you all!