Moving Mountains With Teaspoons

I get that I've only been out of Texas for a month now, and basically a week of that was travel and training, and I've only been at my job for three weeks, blah blah blah....
But can it really be this easy to fall into such a great routine? A routine where I get the alone time that I crave, and still begin the process of making friends, while getting back into healthy eating habits and loving my job and the area?

I'm sorry.  That sounds really stupid, and I might hate everything that I'm doing in six months, but I really doubt it.  This feels perfect.

I look forward to my job every morning. I wake up earlier than I need to, so I can be ready and alert when I get to the office because I just love it there.  I haven't willingly woken up earlier than I needed to since 4th grade, if that puts it in perspective for you. My supervisor is possibly one of the coolest people I've met in the last three years.  I love what I get to do at my job.  I manage our seasonal troops.  They typically meet during lunch periods or in after-school programs.  I get to do lesson planning and watch what works, while simultaneously looking for volunteers to take over these troops so they can function when I leave.  Eventually I'll get to try my hand at grant writing, sending out newsletters and press releases, and form new partnerships with other community partners.  Seriously, this job is giving me all of the professional skills that I need to make sure that nonprofit work is what I want to do.

I attended a nonprofit panel that's focus was Intergenerational Leadership and how to prepare the upcoming generation (mine) for roles in nonprofits.  I wasn't even surprised to be the youngest person in the room by probably 10 years.  This kind of stuff matters.  They were discussing how to communicate with our generation, and I was learning a lot about the impression we give off, and some of the broader generalizations that we've been given.  What was interesting is that, despite the internet saying everyone hates us, most of the people in that room were welcoming us with open arms.  They understand that we think and communicate in new ways that they've never considered, and that we might have fresh perspectives on what they've been doing.

My favorite college professor gave me one of the best lessons I've ever had.  I was in her office and we were talking about a variety of things, and she handed me a teaspoon.  She explained that sometimes the work we do is like moving "mountains with teaspoons" and you can't always see the immediate long term effects or any effect at all, but that doesn't mean you're not doing something worthwhile.  We were talking about behavior analysis and autism therapy, but I think that lesson has carried over into pretty much any aspect of my life since I learned it three years ago.  So now that I'm living by the mountains, and doing work that can be very mountainous, I just have to remind myself that slowly but surely, I'm chipping away.  That makes every single email, lesson plan, and craft project more than worth it.  Also, the teaspoon she gave me sits proudly on my desk.

So here's to mountains, nonprofits, hot coffee and tea, majestic puddles with mountain reflections in them, and one month gone from Texas.  What a glorious and growth filled month its been.  I can't wait to see what the next eleven months hold in store.

My how time flies

Well, I'm back in Montana.  This time for the forseeable future.  Isn't that weird? I still think it's a little weird, but I'm happy.  Really happy.  I didn't realize the funk I'd let myself slip into over the last few months after I got back from my summer in Billings. I mean I obviously was happy to see all of my friends and family and eat at my favorite places again and see the things that are familiar and just feel like home, but I felt like something was missing.  I realized what was missing when I was driving up, and just beginning to see the mountains again felt like a a puzzle piece slipped back into place.  The view.  The sense of something so much larger than yourself that it towers over you and forces you to think of your mortality

So I've been back in Montana for two weeks, and now I'm living in Flathead Valley.  Every day when I drive to work I have to focus on making sure I don't get distracted by the amazing view to my left or right.  Every day I feel like I lose my breath when I walk out of my apartment and see this intense fog rolling down the side of the mountain.  Maybe this will become a normal view, and I won't appreciate the way the mountains get sandwiched between the low hanging clouds and the even lower fog.  Soon I might not enjoy all of the rain and snow, but for now it's here and I'm loving it.  I hope I don't ever grow used to the view.  I don't want to take it for granted.  I want to stare it down and remind myself that I am here, in this moment, and to take it for what it is, icy roads and all.