As the daily challenges of Covid continue, it’s tempting to drive far away and spend hours on the beach where everything seems so much easier. The fresh air and bright sunshine make you forget the disruption of Covid.

The book, Life is Better at the Beach, found its way in my satchel on this past trip. My mom, an avid beach person, gave it to me many years ago. It includes 15 rules of the beach. Number 4, Look for Seashells, is one of my favorites because it never gets old. Looking for that perfect shell is one of the best ways to spend a day at the beach.

The challenge is how to adopt that same rule in a winter climate, but it can be done. For me, it is creating cozy areas inside the home, lighting candles, drinking hot tea, and reading a good book. It’s embracing the moment, finding joy in the little things, and remembering the moments.

Choosing a word for the year is a recent trend. I like it, think about it, and then promptly forget to choose a word. Maybe I will remember for 2022. Instead, what about a Christmas song for the year?

This song by Francesca Battistelli is one I could not stop humming during Christmas Break. I thought about it in different ways. In November of 2018, one of Caden’s classmates passed away due to a car accident. This song seemed to resonate when I thought back to that tragic night. COVID, the disrupter of all disruptions, causes deep sadness as I think about so many lives and relationships broken.

But sadness is not the only emotion I feel with this song. The line, “Thrill of Hope” is what I felt when seeing dolphins swimming close to shore on Anna Maria Island, our vacation spot during Christmas Break. All of a sudden, their gray bodies glided near to the shore, much to the joy of beachgoers. It was magical to witness.

The line, “lift your eyes and behold Him” reminds me of God’s provision. “We were in an accident” were my mother-in-law’s words right after we spent a fun evening playing cards and eating dinner. ” We will be right there,” I answered. Despite a mangled vehicle, nobody was hurt. As I sat in our truck with my somewhat calm mother-in-law, I watched God’s hand at work. Gratitude filled my heart for the opportunity to be there with them, reminding them of God’s goodness in the midst of an accident. It seemed like only minutes passed before the tow truck arrived. Locating a specific rental vehicle for them was a breeze.

Behold Him also means to look at the beauty. The ocean never ceases to fill me with amazement. I hope that I can remember to behold Him as 2022 begins.

I couldn’t believe it when I opened the present. How did my student know? Wrapped in tissue paper was the small, ceramic, battery-operated Christmas tree. When my mother passed away and we sorted through the Christmas items, my brother quickly snagged the nicest ceramic tree for his son. I was left with a ceramic blue one that desperately needed attention. I swallowed my irritation with my brother, bit back my reply, and decided I would somehow get another one. I have hesitated to purchase one because of the cost and now.. a smaller version was given to me. How did my student know? Of course, he didn’t know, but it definitely is one of my favorite memories of Christmas 2021 so far.

Since it is small, I hope to bring it when we see my father later this week and then in Florida when we celebrate with my in-laws. ” The Traveling Christmas Tree” could be a good way to define it.

Regardless of how it’s used, I will put it in My Christmas Fave List for 2021.

“It’s amazing how music can spark certain memories, ” I remarked to my husband during the day. He agreed, rather absentmindedly.

For me, however, a conversation after church and then the devotional we read at the kitchen table seemed to bring me back in time. After opening Christmas presents, we always seemed to watch Handel’s Messiah on television. This powerful oratorio never ceases to send chills up my spine. The second song, “Ere Zij God” brings back memories of my Dutch uncles, boisterously singing at Christmas gatherings. According to the devotional we read at the kitchen tables, it is common for some churches to sing this song on Christmas Day, although I do not recall singing it in my childhood.

Conversations after church centered on various Christmas songs and their impact. “You need to listen to “O Come All Ye Unfaithful”, one person urged. I wasn’t disappointed. It is another song that makes an impact.

It makes me wonder what kind of singing occurs in heaven. My mother, always a soprano, stopped singing as she grew older. I don’t know if it was because of dementia, but she did not sing in the same way. However, I am always grateful for the way she shared her love of music. It definitely is one of God’s beautiful gifts.

It never ceases to surprise me. Out of nowhere, the drop forms, the memories hit, and a pang of sadness fills my thoughts.

As our friends sat around the dining room table today for our first Thanksgiving meal of the week, we reread some of our thoughts from the past Thanksgiving holidays. There it was: Oma. The last time she visited our house for Thanksgiving was 2017 and her list of thanks could have been uttered today. “Our country has had many bad times, but we are still happy we live in the United States.” As I reread past gratitude lists, her thoughts often centered on safety. She would be so thankful to hear Caden’s future father-in-law’s comments, ” I am so thankful that God answered our prayers for a Christian husband for our daughter. We have prayed and prayed for this and now God answered our prayers.”

As I read parts of the Thanksgiving story to our guests from Nigeria, New Zeeland, and China, my thoughts turned back to the many visits we enjoyed throughout the years. While living in Kansas, my parents would spend an entire week with us, helping with chores around our home and relaxing in the family room at night. Once we moved to Indiana, they still journeyed to our home but did not stay as long. My mom always ironed Mitch’s shirts, a task she thoroughly enjoyed! She would always marvel at our Thanksgiving dinner and often peeled the potatoes in amazing speed and dexterity I never quite achieved. They always enjoyed visiting with our international visitors, a tradition we started when Mitch first became a professor. We sometimes had to caution my father to avoid controversial topics! “Keep it light, Dad!”

As the tears threatened to continue, I remember a time when she and I were talking about the fact that she would not always be on this earth. “That time will come, Michelle,” she commented. “And you will be okay.”

Yes, Mom, I will be okay, but I will still miss you and am always thankful for your Thanksgiving visits.

Only 55 days are left of this year! Wow! Reflections on the past year are not far away. Advertisements for 2022 planners are in my inbox. We will soon hear, “Where did the time go?”

One of my goals is always to write more, whether it is in a book, blog, or letter correspondence form. This blog, letters to friends and family, and periodic attempts at my book, Pandemic Principal, help me achieve this goal.

The best part of a goal is when it is accomplished. Seeing your writing in print is incredibly rewarding. Is that too proud? I hope not. As I reread it again, I see that I could have used better word choices, but it’s okay. Writing is a hobby I want to continue. Read on…

Pandemic Principal

A visitor walking into our school during early summer may see stacked furniture outside classrooms, blank bulletin boards, and a variety of maintenance workers. Administrative assistants could be opening packages and delivering them to the proper classrooms. Peeking into a classroom, one might see a group of educators, jokingly named Calendar Creators. Any teacher is welcome to attend this meeting, but only certain ones show up. Armed with calendars, pencils, and sometimes chocolate, they gather around a long conference table, ready to provide reasoning and set dates for the many school events. 

At the Summer 2020 Planning Session, dates were set with a different twist. The question “Will we even have it?” seemed to repeat itself for each event. Despite the uncertainty of the looming school year, the Calendar Creators completed another session (with a few more chocolates digested). “I guess we’ll just wait and see how the year progresses,” commented a teacher as the meeting ended. 

As the school year evolved, the Calendar Creators found themselves with a different job description: how to plan an event in a COVID world. The group could have been retitled “The Imaginers.” Every single event on that established calendar needed to be redesigned using three lenses: Christian, community, and COVID. 

So many events were redesigned, but Grandparents’ Day will be forever etched in my memory. My father, a resident in a memory care facility, propelled me forward in the planning process. He often mentioned how much he missed seeing young people. I assumed this must be true for the students’ grandparents as well. Planning started with the office. “How can we make this happen?” I asked our office manager. “The Veterans Day parade worked. Let’s make a Grandparents’ Day parade happen!”

Veteran’s Day, another re-imagined event, worked well. Veterans drove through the back parking lot where students were holding flags on the sidelines. The middle school band played patriotic songs, bringing tears to the veterans’ eyes. A special fife and drum group led the parade procession. 

Determined and feeling persistent, the office manager and I started planning in January. We kept the planning largely to ourselves because the pandemic stretched teachers and simplicity was key. But is anything simple when planning for Grandparents’ Day? “We need to give them something,” the office manager decided. She began creating seed packets with a note enclosed. It was difficult to determine an exact number, so we settled with one hundred, with the idea of giving one per vehicle. As the day drew closer, communicating to parents through the school newsletter, social media, and handwritten letters from students became a focus. “I hope the grandparents come!” we often remarked to each other.

The event seemed simple: follow the same route as the Veterans’ Day parade with the middle school band and bell choir playing music. The director of advancement reminded me that signs for students’ placement would be helpful. “Do you think we should contact the local police to inform them of possible overflow? What if there is a back-up on Union Street?” I resisted, remembering the messy correspondence with the city traffic department regarding the Veterans’ Day parade. “It will be fine,” I encouraged, with no reasoning behind that statement and optimism as my guide.

This is an abridged version of this article. To read more, subscribe to the print or digital edition of Christian Educators Journal.

Michelle Tuinstra, author, accepted God’s calling to lead as a “pandemic principal” at Lafayette Christian during the 2020–21 school year. This school year, she hopes to find time to write her book, Pandemic Principal: Exhibiting Ridiculous Amounts of Grace in a COVID World. She can be reached at mtuinstra@lafayettechristian.org.

“I can’t believe I did that!” she exclaimed, as she bent down cleaning up the spill in our van. It was coffee, but I just didn’t care. “It really doesn’t matter,” I repeated, although she kept expressing her apologies.

How can you express that the only true thing that matters is being with people who are your friends, no matter what? My cousin, Julie, is like that, which is why I make an effort to see her while in Michigan.

Our favorite pasttime is frequenting consignment shops and this Saturday was no different. As we ended our time together, we planned our summer escapade for 2022.

Time is short. We need to make the most of it!

One of the best gifts my mother provided was the gift of music. Her listening habits followed a certain predictability. Weekday music included a mixture of soft rock. Saturday mornings included some polka, ABBA, and John Denver. Sunday mornings and afternoons included Christian radio station music. Despite the variety, she tended to view newer Christian praise music as too repetitive and lengthy. Her favorites included Steve Green, ” People Need the Lord”, songs by Twila Paris and Natalie Grant. Listening to a variety of music is a blessing that I continue as well.

I thought about a Saturday visit yesterday, but it didn’t set well. After a student left school with a 100.2 temperature, I didn’t feel right about sharing my germs with my father.

Do other people go through these same types of scenarios? Balancing safety and the need to see the elderly?

My father, recuperating from a recent kidney stone surgery, is struggling to stay awake during the day, although this picture, taken by my brother, indicates otherwise. He looks good!

As the month of October continues, I keep hoping that he will stay positive, remembering that his life is precious.

The day dawned bright with an abundance of sunshine as we traveled for a Saturday day trip to see my father. As we greeted him, he kept nodding off. ” I am so tired,” he muttered as his head drooped down. Since he just had surgery, it was expected. “Come on, Dad. I will play the piano,” I urged. We ambled over to the piano. Just like two years ago, the broken C note greeted my ears. As I started playing the familiar hymns, other residents gathered around and started singing. It ended up being an impromptu hymnsing, with voices joining together in praise and my father, staying awake. Surprisingly, they stayed for one hour, singing and rejoicing on a sunny Saturday afternoon. It was a great weekend memory.