I Love to Laminate

Gonaïves, Haiti - November, 2015

I love to laminate. It is a most gratifying process to which I have recently become addicted. My students do not get to help me because I hoard the experience for myself. There is something about laminating that calms my spirit.
 
An ordinary piece of paper fits snuggly into a protective cover. It slowly- and I mean slowly- enters the machine. It will not go fast. Its purposeful pace is constant and a soft hum signals that the sheet is rolling on through.
 
Heat seals the cover, but heat also changes the images on the paper. They become brighter, more vivid. They are now shielded and protected from being torn or crumpled or pulled into pieces. No matter what the days ahead may bring, this intensity seals up all that is good. It removes all wrinkles. The paper inside becomes its best version unless it rolls through crooked or stray scraps appear or the paper itself shifts. This process must then start again from the beginning.
 
I now search for things I need to laminate. I’m obsessed.
 
I’m obsessed because I know I am like that piece of paper. Something ordinary wanting to be vivid and bright.

I roll through whatever heat I confront, anticipating a chemical reaction to transform me (and I trust me, I don’t mean menopause). I want that protective covering that keeps me from being torn or pulled into different directions or worn out. I really want all these creases I have recently discovered on my face to be smoothed out too.
 
God is watching over this process. He is humming a song into my heart so I will not falter as I roll through. I can hear this hum on days I choose to move slowly. I’ll come out transformed unless I go through the process crooked or my heart shifts. God will simply start the process all over. I’ll repeat the mistake until I learn my lesson and correct it. When I recognize that He always goes before me, I can relax a bit more. That is the lesson I must keep on learning.
 
I need to be certain that what is written on my heart is His word and His will so that the desires of my heart will fill up my beautifully broken and restored page. As I choose to trust Him with the pieces of my life- really trust Him- I glimpse a vivid and bright mosaic of me that He is creating. I can live the peace He offers me each day.
 
A mosaic of my favorite colors, hues of blue, orange, green, gold, and black.
A mosaic of animals I love such as a cat, dove, tiger, turtle, and of course-  a goose.
A mosaic of all of it : those places that change my perspective, my people who love all the crazy parts of me, my friends who sharpen my mind, and millions of words in French and Spanish and English that fill my head and eventually fall out of my mouth.
 
That cross in the little girl’s backpack from the photo is laminated. She was so happy to have it but didn’t want it to get crushed or bent or torn. The cross survived the trip to Haiti in my suitcase thanks to the lamination, and she carried it home as a treasure.
 
How long does the influence of a moment like that last?
Her gratitude and my memory keep it going. I’ll add her witness to my mosaic.
 
I will include a little of my gulf and a lot of that tiny Tuck River. A white swing and a setting sun.
Perhaps one great big heart filled with tiny ones for each student I have taught and loved.
There’d be a watermark of my favorite bible verse from Psalm 34.
No place for regrets or hard feelings. Plenty of room for hope and adventure.
All my crazy pieces smoothed out like new.
 
This week’s cray-cray of Cinco de Mayo involved 800 churros, 142 t-shirts, 55 walking tacos, and five extended partnerships with other groups giving my 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade French students a chance to reach their $1800 goal to help others. I’m a super proud and exhausted teacher. Thanks to some awesome kids and friends, no churro was left uneaten!
 
Somebody asked me, What’s next? What else do you have planned?
 
So many places to go.
So many beautiful people to love.
So many pieces of my mosaic still left to fall into place.
 
I have decided that I don’t need a bucket list.
I just need a bigger bucket.

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