Change in My Pocket

An old proverb says, "Change is the only constant." Whether you think change is constantly annoying, constantly exciting or constantly unpredictable, you must agree. We change our clothes, change our minds, change our attitude and sometimes even change our point of view.

Sometimes change is not something we choose to do. Sometimes change is something we don't want to do.

When I was little, we moved around quite a bit. Not as much as some military families I have known, but still, it was enough that I never lived in the same house more than four years. I went to a total of four elementary schools, two junior highs and one high school. I'm not griping about it, though. I have found that change, even change we don't want, can lead to things we would never know or experience - good things, life-changing things.

If I had never moved from Nebraska to Oklahoma, I would never have experienced ground that cracked open after a rain, horny toads, or my first best friend, Dana. I might never have been the mascot at a homecoming basketball game or been on a hair-raising ride on the back of a Shetland pony or attended school in an underground schoolhouse.

In the middle of my first grade year, we moved to Lawrence, Kansas. I woke up one morning after we had only been there a couple of days with incredibly sore jaws, yep - mumps. That was a new experience.

I finished first grade at Schwegler Elementary, but then we changed houses, so it was off to a new school for second grade. That was a BIG change. I attended Broken Arrow for second, third and fourth grade. It was a "pod" school, or "colony" school. I don't know who had this idea, but he or she was nuts. I never fit in and never felt comfortable at Broken Arrow, but again, I experienced things I would not have experienced without that change: Colony sings, guitar lessons, the worst teacher I ever had (yes, fourth grade was a character building year), and some new friendships. One of those friends, Kelly made me feel welcome at the school when I knew no one.

We moved again before fifth grade, and I finished out elementary school at Pinkney. My fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Montgomery was the first teacher I ever had who really encouraged me. She took the time to pull me aside with my parents and compliment me on my writing in front of them. My sixth grade teacher, Mr. Grant, gave us an assignment that introduced us to journalism. I don't know if it was the timing, the teachers, or just what I was supposed to do, but these two years greatly influenced the course of my life. Without change, it might not have happened that way. I made some important friendships during those two years, too. Elyce, Regina, and Carmen are all friends who were a positive influence on me in many ways.

I won't talk to you much about junior high, because for everyone, junior high is all about change. There are to many changes to mention. Not all were positive, but they all had a purpose.

Personally, my life took a major detour during those years, however. It was between eighth and ninth grade that my parents separated and we moved to Arkansas. This was probably the biggest change I had ever experienced. Almost everything was different after we moved - culture, accents, style, language, living conditions, even the number of plates we used to set the table (going from four to three was one of the strangest things ever). It was all different. But Arkansas has become my home. I went to high school and college here, met and married my husband, had my kids, started my first job and made more lifelong friends like Michele and Ronna.

I have grown up here - physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. I have lost loved ones and made many memories... and mistakes.

Now I am preparing for another big change. We are moving away from Arkansas, my home of 28 years and my house of eleven years. I know how hard change can be, but by experience, I know how rewarding it can be also.

So, with change in my pocket, or rather with the knowledge in my heart that change can lead to great things, I am ready. At least, that is what I'm telling myself.