Overwhelmed.

Deanna and Katie with Will

It would be fair to say that I haven't been super excited about this move.

It wasn't what we were planning, NYC isn't a place I've always wanted to live, and the logistics of this whole move have been exhausting. I have cried about this move many times since we got that call Feb. 16. But I have also been learning more about friendship, what makes a good school great, and what is really important than I could have ever anticipated.

Clay and I moved to Chattanooga 4 years ago as newlyweds. I was excited about my job, sure, but I was more excited about being married and finally living in the same town as Clay. But a funny thing happened. I fell in love again.

Who knew that I would fall in love with an all-girls private school on the North Shore of Chattanooga? Who knew that I would be so warmly and completely welcomed into an already established community of committed educators and students? Who knew that I would slowly but surely realize over and over again that the people with whom I work are the nicest, most thoughtful, most generous, most fun individuals? When I started in 2007, I didn't know if I would ever feel invested in a school of potato-sack uniforms and may queens, but man, I am smitten. SMITTEN. I could not be more devoted to this school, this place, these people.

The hardest part about leaving Chattanooga is saying goodbye to these people. I have been trying to delay it and deny it, but the moments keep creeping up on me. And today, at the end of my last exam to my last class of students, two of my dearest friends and colleagues, Katie and Deanna, handed me a beautifully wrapped box and said, "open it."

Remember that I have only been at GPS for four years. This is a place, and rightfully so, where people don't leave. They retire. My presence has been a blip on their radar screen. But they have done such an amazing job of making me feel like I mattered. And that's just it, that's exactly what makes a good school great: it makes every single person feel like she matters. BECAUSE SHE DOES. Teaching at GPS for four years and then becoming a mother makes me so clearly aware that every single person in this world matters. Every person is someone's child, someone's whole world. We need to treat people with more than just respect--it's love that makes our days worthwhile. I have loved coming to work every day for the past 4 years because I genuinely love the people there. They are smart and funny and creative and kind and understanding and generous. Most of all, generous. They give give give of themselves all the time and it inspires me time and time again. My days are full of interactions both within and outside the classroom, and these interactions make my life RICH. My days at GPS have been so full. And then I come home and I am so full of love for my amazing husband and my beautiful son and I fall asleep every night overwhelmed with gratitude to God for the blessings in my life. I will never earn these gifts--they are indeed blessings from God. Overwhelmed.

The gift inside was a Kindle. I threw it back at them (how nice of me, huh?) and refused to take it. How do you accept such a thoughtful, generous gift from two people (and really, a whole group of people who contributed) who have given me so much love, support, and friendship already? I am full. I can't accept any more grace, any more love, any more blessings. I have more than I could ever desire. And yet the love keeps coming. Overwhelming.

The Kindle is particularly meaningful because of who gave it to me and what it represents. Katie is our inspiring librarian who reaches into the lives of our classrooms and not only helps us with our lessons but also finds way to illustrate them beautifully and powerfully in our library. She started a book blog for the girls, she organizes book clubs for both students and faculty, she crafts an award-winning newsletter, and she bends over backwards to address teachers' needs perfectly and immediately. But she is also my role model as a mother and wife. She makes homemade dinners in the Crock-Pot every morning before ushering her kids off to school, she supports and encourages her kids' ballet and swim lessons and sports' teams, she supports her sweet husband professionally and personally, and she manages to do it all with a bright smile and a contagious laugh. She is superwoman in my eyes.

Deanna is a jewel. I didn't discover this beautiful friend until the start of this school year, and I often wonder how I got along without her for so long. While she and I worked together (and lets be real: she was a million times more helpful and encouraging than I) on the school newspaper this year, it is to her credit that my life was blessed by her thoughtful and graceful friendship. She took me where I was--a hot mess of a new mother who was trying to stay somewhat on top of her classes--and loved me despite myself. She brought so much joy to my days through emails and meetings and brief chats in the hallways, and while I am so aware that I don't deserve her friendship, she stuck it out for some reason and enriched my life enormously. She is also an avid reader and a fascinating cocktail party companion.

So these two women, along with a group of friends ("colleagues" just doesn't cut it), gave me the gift of STORY. They know just how valuable and life-giving books can be, and because they know that Clay and I have had to donate or sell most of our book collection to make this move feasible, they found a way to give me the breath of books back. And that's just what books are to me: breaths. They sustain, they connect us, they move us forward. This group of friends know that, but in the same breath, they also gave me eternal inspiration and companionship.

Stories are powerful. Their stories are powerful, Will's story is powerful, and Clay's story is powerful. Your story is powerful. And as I told one of my classes last week when they asked me to define "writer," everyone has a story to tell. Writers are simply people who take the time to write it down.

So the story of our family is about to take a turn. I pray it is a turn for the better, but that's hard for me to say because at this very moment, I just don't see how things can get much better. But I am armed with a new camera (the result of yet another gift from the school: wow), a handheld device of infinite stories, and eventually the gift of time. I have a husband who understands and cherishes the power of a good story. I have a son whose eyes light up when I pull out a book to read to him. And I have dear friends who have shown me over and over again that life and work can have tremendous meaning when they are infused with love and generosity and selflessness and grace.

I am excited to see our story unfold. And I am grateful for the opportunity to tell it.

Thank you Katie and Deanna and Jane and Anne and Susan and Claudia and Kim and Melanie and Tracie and Keith and Jill and Nancy and Sheryl and Sarah and Rebecca and Nancy and Jenise and Suzanne. The Kindle is a gem. Your friendship is a treasure. I love you all.

A few more pictures:

The one above is from the greatest group of seniors I could have ever hoped to know.

I adore them.

And here are most of my sweet sophomores. Ah, I will miss those smiles.

For one of our last classes together, they brought in a cookie cake with a Macbeth reference on it--how cool are they??

One of my students created a Shakespeare mask for every single one of my students. I walked into my classroom one day and this is what I saw. Brilliant. What I didn't tell them in the midst of being so excited and surprised was that the faces behind the masks make me even happier than Shakespeare. Now, THAT is saying something :-)