There is always so much learn

Yesterday, my husband Mark and I rang bells for the Salvation Army's Red Kettle campaign. This is the fourth year we have participated as part of Mark's Kiwanis group and its service project for the month of December.

We were less than fifteen minutes in to our two hour shift and a middle-aged woman came up with some loose change. She put it in the kettle and then read the sign that indicated it was a match day (a match day is sponsored by a local business that will match up to $5000 in donations). She quickly said, "I need to go home and get my check. I watch for a match day every year so I can double my money." She put her gloves on and made her way to the exit. At the door, she turned and said, "I'm so happy to be on the other side of this. I was glad many years ago when the Salvation Army showed up at my door with a box for my family. You don't forget that, you know?" And off she went.

A bit later, an older man stopped near our red kettle. He said, "You know we only write checks to two organizations; you people (meaning the Salvation Army, I presume) and Children's Hospital. And do you know why? Because I know where the money goes. Thanks for ringing the bells today." He left with a purpose in his step and a smile on his lips.

An attractive younger woman stopped. Her eyes were brimming with tears. She started to peel single dollar bills from a wad in her fist. We started to thank her and she said, "I have to give a donation. The guy in front of me in the grocery line just paid for my groceries. I could cry." She continued to take dollars from her hand and put them in the kettle. It seemed she just couldn't wrap her brain around the kindness of a stranger. "People are good, aren't they?" Really good," I said. And she said, "Yes, they are. That made my day. I just can't believe it!" 

We saw grandparents with their grandchildren and mom's with their kids. One little guy was with his mom. I guessed him to be five years old. He said, "So why are there two of you here?"  I said, "Well, we like each other. We are married." Mark said, "We're a team. We're married." Our new little five year old friend went on to say, "Well my mom is married to my dad, too. She said she saw my dad and thought he looked nice. He saw her and thought she looked nice, so that's how they got married."  His mom chimed in and said, "I told him I really liked his dad because he had good manners, so I'm hoping he will pick up on those good manners." I think he's off to a good start!

Our shift was over before we knew it, but I hope what I learned Wednesday morning stays with me awhile.  I was reminded to appreciate everything and everyone in my life; that it's a good idea to donate to worthwhile charities; random acts of kindness make a difference for more than just the person who was the object of the kindness; and five year old children have a sweet, simple, innocent vision of the world.

She is remarkable

I wonder if any of my followers (all three of you!) realize that this blog is one year old?!? October 31 of 2013 was my first entry. Since then, I managed to post at least once each month, except for last month. I am proud that I continue to post here and that there are at least a few folks who read what I write. It is my intention to continue to write and maybe become a bit more prolific. But I can't promise, so don't hold your breath!

Perhaps my lack of productivity last month is a result of being away from home. And why, you might ask, was I away? Our daughter Leah, and her husband had their second child, a sweet, precious little girl. So I went to North Carolina to spend two weeks with their wonderful family, helping them transition from a family of three to a family of four, meeting my newest grand-daughter, playing with her 19 month old big sister, caring for our daughter, and watching in awe as our son-in-law put the finishing touches on a beautiful big girl bed he custom built for daughter number one.

As a mom, I didn't think I could be prouder than I was on the day of parent teacher conferences when Leah's kindergarten teacher told Mark and I that she was a very kind child; her teacher would often pair Leah with a student who needed help and confidence, she told us, because Leah was so good with her.

I was a little more proud when Leah was announced as the recipient of both the Student Choice Award (voted on by her classmates) and the Outstanding 8th Grader Award (voted on by the teachers). These awards showed Leah was well-liked and respected by her peers, as well as by those educators she learned from every day.

I was really proud when Leah qualified for the state track meet all four years of high school, when she was selected as the outstanding senior in her graduating class, when she gave one of two graduation speeches, when she got accepted to UW-Madison, and when she received the Dean's Prize in the College of Letters and Science at UW, one of only three awarded among the 4000 members of the 2011 graduating class.

Mark and I were happy and proud walking down the aisle with Leah on her wedding day. As she approached the alter of our Catholic church to share the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony with her soon to be husband, I could not stop smiling and thanking God for the blessing of this daughter of ours, this special, special child. Yes, I was proud. 

I didn't think I could be prouder than on that wedding day...but I am. It was my honor to spend the last two weeks at our daughter's home; to see her and her loving husband work as a team to figure out what their newborn daughter needed; to watch them love each other and love their girls, in spite of severe sleep deprivation; to hear them laugh together, share quiet conversations, and exercise patience when explaining for the 100th time to their 19 month old why she can't hold the baby right now!

It is true what 'they' say about being a grandparent; It really is THE BEST. In my opinion, it is the best, not only because you get to see a brand new life of which you had a tiny hand in creating. But you also get to see your child, the child you parented, parent! That is worth repeating. You get to see your child, the child you parented, parent! It really is a privilege. It really is amazing. Sometimes, it is almost unbelievable.

So I am a proud grandma...and my daughter? Well, she is remarkable!

Ode to My Minivan

We no longer own our van.  Last weekend, my husband drove our 2011 Dodge Caravan from Wisconsin to Kentucky. While Mark was heading south and east, our son-in-law was driving their 2007 Pontiac Grand Prix west from North Carolina to Kentucky. The purpose of the trip was to trade cars. (Lexington Kentucky was a central location and afforded the guys about ten hours of driving on each of two days!) Leah and Nick are expecting their second child in the next week or two. At this stage in their lives, they will benefit from having a van. Two children in car seats in the back of a mini-van seem easier to manage than two children in car seats in the back of a four door car.

I will miss my van for a few reasons. First, I will miss the view. You sit up high in a van and you can see the road really well. I will also miss being able to haul extra people and extra stuff. Our van sat seven very comfortably. If we weren't carrying people, we could stow the seats and treat it like a truck. We packed a lot of stuff in that van when we made our cross-country trip last June and then again mid-August of this year when we moved Ben to Madison. I'll miss the ease of traveling with extra family members, and I'll miss the option of packing more junk than you could ever get in a car's trunk! Finally, I'll miss what driving a mini-van stands for. The era of being a stay at home mom and running from one kids event to another kids practice to picking up the third at school is really and truly over for this stay at home mom. It is over and I miss it. I miss the grade school homework projects, science fairs and choral concerts; I miss the middle school drama; I miss the endless high school activities and sporting events. I miss all the feet under the kitchen table at dinner time...

Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not sad. I only miss what was; those were simple days. I don't long to be back living them, though. I'm happy where I am. I like the freedom our empty nest affords. Sometimes, I even like the quiet.

So I say thanks to my mini-van for being a good friend and providing a safe ride. I know she's in good hands. Soon there will be stale cheerios on the floor and hard fruit snacks buried in the creases of the seats. And that's as it should be. 

Look at all that stuff! A van is a lot like a truck.

The van was packed full...it was mighty enough to haul a trailer full of furniture, too!

"The House that Built Me"

It's Thursday August 28, 2014. Other than the hum of the dishwasher, my house is quiet...still...silent...hushed...as if it's keeping a secret.

This week is the last week of summer vacation for elementary, middle, and high school kids. Most college bound students are moving in or have all ready moved back to their college towns and are settling in to dorm rooms or off campus houses (I use the term "houses" loosely here!). Ready or not, the page gets turned and a new chapter begins for all.

As I drove home from Mitchell International Airport in Milwaukee late Tuesday afternoon, I thought about this new chapter for me. Just twenty minutes earlier, I watched my pregnant daughter, her husband, and our beautiful 17 month old granddaughter disappear into the Delta Air Lines terminal on their way home to North Carolina. They came home to Wisconsin for a week. They spent the first half of the week in the Milwaukee area with our son-in-law's family, and the second half was spent at two weddings (one in Chicago, one in Wisconsin Dells) and then home in Kimberly. A whirlwind? You bet! Would I change any of it? Sure; I wish our sweet grand-baby wouldn't have gotten an infection requiring a trip to urgent care and a dose of antibiotics. And selfishly, I wish they could have spent the entire week here in Kimberly. The next time we see them in person, they will be a family of four! Chapter One - Baby Makes Four

Our middle son and his wife live in the Madison area and both are in their second year of their respective jobs. They are about six weeks from celebrating their first wedding anniversary. Last year at this time we were ocean deep in the planning and preparation for what would be one of the most holy, meaningful, down right fun celebrations ever! They are two young professionals who live their faith, enjoy their life, and are building a solid foundation for a lasting marriage. I feel so blessed to have gained such a wonderful daughter-in-law. Bailey is the best. She is kind, thoughtful, helpful, fun-loving, sweet, sincere, and beautiful, inside and out. God not only blessed our son Luke, He blessed us all!  Chapter Two - A Love that makes the World Go Around

Just about two weeks ago, we moved our youngest back to Madison. Our minivan was filled to the brim with everything a college guy could want to make his first apartment feel like home. In addition, we pulled a trailer loaded with furniture. It wasn't the smoothest college moving day trip we've ever made (I think we stopped 5 times to secure the load and almost lost his bike; that's material for another post!), but we got the job done. Ben will live his sophomore year in the shadow of Camp Randall Stadium and I'm pretty sure for him it doesn't get much better than that! Chapter Three - Sophomore Year

Mark and I are home, in our very quiet house. I don't think this house is keeping a secret, though. It knows, like I do, that life changes. It seems like one day we are changing our daughter's diapers and the next we are changing her daughter's diapers. One day we are standing in church with our son as he receives the Eucharist for the first time and the next we are watching him walk down the aisle as a married man. One day we are rushing off to pick up our little boy at preschool and the next we are dropping him off at college. Life changes, no doubt, and we can't stop it, no matter how hard we try. Chapter Four - Change

I titled this post after the song with the same name by Miranda Lambert (You can listen to it via the link below). It's one of my favorite songs because it speaks to me about home. I believe that in the midst of change, you can always come home. And home isn't necessarily the house where you grew up or where you live. Home is your people, your family, those you love and those who love you unconditionally. Home can be that quiet place inside where you know you are strong, worthy, and loved. It's that place where you will be okay; that place where you can fall and fail and know that through all the change life brings, you've got this, and it will be alright. Chapter Five - Home

Our beautiful family...my home!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DQYNM6SjD_o

Oh, the people you meet!

A person can certainly meet some interesting people over the course of a lifetime. Take, for example, the woman I met this morning at the laundromat. I never got her name, but for purposes of this post, I'll call her Luann (I reconfigured the first four letters of the word laundromat...and added an 'n.' What do you know about that?)

This is what I learned about Luann:  She is the daughter of a Croatian immigrant. Her father came to this country at age 13 as a cook's helper. He traveled alone to New York City in about 1905 because his mom died of cholera when he was 11 and his dad was a fisherman and died in a boating accident when Luann's dad was just three years old. Luann told me he was not completely alone in New York City, as a couple of his siblings lived there, but one brother wanted to send him back to Croatia for fear he would have to take responsibility for him. Luann was quick to tell me her dad was providing for that particular brother just five years later. 

Luann described her father as her hero. He overcame a lot in his lifetime, she said. And in fact, her first story of his heroism involved kicking the smoking habit cold turkey. Luann's father never shared with his family "what the doctors said," but Luann suspects that they told him if he didn't quit smoking it would kill him.  Well in 1960, there weren't a lot of programs to help smokers kick the habit, so Luann's dad did it on his own. He chewed lots of celery, carrots, and gum, she said. After six weeks, he had a very sore jaw, but it was getting easier for him to resist cigarettes, and he primarily chewed gum. After three months, he didn't need to chew as much gum to keep the need for  nicotine away, and by six months, if someone came into his presence after smoking even one cigarette, he'd say, "You stink. Go take a shower and wash your hair."

Luann told me, "One thing my dad said that I hear, even in my mind today, is stop your belly achin.' If you look around, there are folks a lot worse off than you, so stop your belly achin'."

We, and by we I mean society, would do well to heed this sage advice. If we all complained a little less, worked a little more, and helped someone who needs help, perhaps we wouldn't find our collective selves so...needy.

Oh, the people you meet...and the wisdom they share.

A Little Hot Air

I think society has lost its collective mind! (How's that for a hook?) That statement may be a little bold, so let me clarify. Several members of society have lost their minds! If that's better for you, read on! :)

Last Wednesday evening I was a spectator in the bleachers at a local softball game. I was there because our youngest son was asked to fill in for another team in the league. They needed the extra players to avoid a forfeit. Ben and two of his teammates were happy to oblige.

I was the only fan representing Ben's "adopted" team, but don't feel sorry for me. I enjoy softball and have no issue sitting alone. It was a cool, comfortable summer evening in Wisconsin. Perfect for spectating!

As I sat in the bleachers, I found myself sitting among players from one of the teams that would be playing the game after Ben's. Not a big deal. However, when one of those players lit a cigarette it became a bigger deal. You can probably guess where this little story is going! That second hand smoke was blowing in my direction and I wasn't happy!

Happens all the time, it seems.  A single smoker's cigarette smoke can pollute what would otherwise be 'fresh' air.  What's a girl to do? In my younger days I might have asked him, in a nice way of course, to move. In this case, I coughed and moved my little self up three bleachers where I was free of the smokey air.

The point of relating this incident is to plead with all of the smokers out there. Please don't exercise your "right" to smoke in public. By smoking in public you jeopardize my "right" to breath smoke free air! Smoke at your home. Smoke in your basement. Smoke in your yard. Smoke in your garage. But don't smoke in public and public includes the ballpark! It will never be okay with me!

In case any smokers out there aren't convinced, let me just say that my non-smoking in public changes nothing about the air you breathe. This is my blog so I think that statement is worth repeating--My non-smoking changes nothing about the air you breathe! Therefore, my non-smoking does not infringe on any of your rights! Period. End of discussion.

“‎"Consider the rights of others before your own feelings, and the feelings of others before your own rights.” --John Wooden

All my life's a circle

Two things happened to me this week that are, in my humble opinion, remarkable.

Last weekend my daughter asked if I had saved her cabbage patch infant doll. She is expecting their second baby in October, and her fifteen month old is showing an interest in Leah's growing belly and the baby that's in there!  Leah thought it would be a good idea to give her a "baby" of her own to care for. I went to the basement and found a white plastic bag closed up tight sitting inside the blue baby crib Leah "played house" with many years ago. Inside the bag was an assortment of Leah's dolls and among them was her cabbage patch infant.  I was thrilled. I boxed it up, along with the adoption papers Leah created some 15 to 18 years ago. "Katy Ellen" was on her way to her new home.  Two days later, Leah sent a picture of her sweet daughter holding and mothering the cabbage patch doll.  I sent Leah this text message, "Isn't it amazing that you just sent me a picture of your daughter playing with your doll?  Full circle moment for this grandma!"
  
When I graduated from UW-Madison's graduate School of Social Work in 1984, one of the first purchases I made was a Kimball upright piano. I had grown up in a home with a piano and decided that I wouldn't be without one in my adult life. That piano went with me from Appleton to Kimberly to Green Bay to Madison to Wausau back to Appleton and finally to Kimberly. Two of our three children learned to play on it, and it was well-used over the years. In 2008, Mark and I had an opportunity to get an antique baby grand piano for a pretty good price. We gave my piano to a local family whose daughter was looking for a reasonably priced piano. Needless to say, the price was right for her!

We have decided to sell our baby grand piano. I want a little more space and plan to purchase an upright once we sell. I listed it on Craigslist and within a few days, we had a couple interested parties. One particular person responded and proposed a swap. He said he had an upright that he would trade for our C. Kurtzmann & Co. baby grand.  I made arrangements to meet him at his home so I could play his upright and decide if a swap would be fair to both of us. When Mark and I arrived at his home, I realized I knew his parents. His mom was in the yard mowing and I recognized her immediately. We got out of the van and walked into the garage where the piano was being stored. As I approached, I said to Mark, "Gosh that looks a lot like my old piano." When I got next to it, I knew it was my old Kimball upright. The gouge in the right leg, the key that still sticks and a few other markings proved beyond a doubt that it was mine. Turns out the current owner is a cousin to the husband of the sister of the girl we gave the piano to back in 2008. Unbelievable!

All my life's a circle, indeed!

One of my favorite songs by Harry Chapin is called Circle and I've included the link. You might find yourself singing along!


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fW0vjZiu_rw

A Memorial Day Thought

Several years ago (2001 to be exact), I was inspired to write a reflection about Memorial Day. Since it's been awhile since I posted here, I thought this piece would be a good one to share on this Saturday of Memorial weekend. I hope you enjoy it. I hope it will help you to always remember...

Memorial Day

Today we remember the men and women who fought, served, and died to ensure our freedom.

Today "taps" plays a thousand times in my head as I envision a proud and solemn veteran standing at the graveside of a fallen buddy. His uniform is crisp, army green, decorated with colorful tributes to his heroism. The tear that trickles down his cheek is salty and familiar. No one knows, as he knows, what price my freedom.

Today the sun shines brightly in a perfect blue sky and robins sing a beautiful tune of joy and life and spring. I wonder if captured soldiers heard a bird song as they marched along the road to Bataan many years ago. I'm certain birds sang. I don't know if soldiers heard. Perhaps today a soldier will stop to listen. I'm certain he'll remember the march.

Today I'll tell the kids about war. I'll tell them freedom is a gift that carries the highest price tag. I'll talk about men and women who gave us freedom by laying down their very lives. Husbands, fathers, sons, daughters, friends, neighbors, lovers. I'll tell them to make a difference where freedom is concerned. To love and not hate. To care and not be careless. To serve and not be selfish.

Today flags fly over this great land of ours in memory of courage, pride, love of country, selfless service, and heroism. We must never forget what price our freedom.

"Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn't pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same."

                                                                                               -Ronald Reagan

"Do you see Colby Jack anywhere?"

My daughter-in-law Bailey and I were doing some grocery shopping on Saturday for Easter Sunday brunch. We were standing in the dairy isle picking up some shredded cheese (sharp cheddar, as a matter of fact) when I heard a tiny voice directed toward us. I turned to find a thin boy, glasses slightly ajar on his nose, standing next to a cart with a few items in it. His stature was slight, his appearance unremarkable, and he was just tall enough to see over the cart.

"What did you say?" I asked him.

"Do you see Colby Jack anywhere? I need to find some shredded Colby Jack." He was very articulate and knew what he was looking for. Bailey and I could not find shredded Colby Jack, but directed him to the Marble Jack and assured him it would serve the same purpose.

"Thank you so much," he said.

I responded, "You have very nice manners young man, and you are doing a good job for someone."  Again, he said something which I couldn't understand. "Excuse me?" I asked. 

"My mom is hurting right now, so I'm trying to help her out."  I was caught off guard by his candid comment. I don't remember what I said. I think I told him it was really great of him or something like that. He put the packages of cheese in his cart and was off.

I hadn't noticed how much cheese he took, but as Bailey and I scanned the overwhelming selection of shredded cheese she said, "Did you see he took two sixteen ounce packages? That's a lot of cheese. I hope he really needs that much."  Just then, both of us saw the Colby Jack hanging on the end of a row.  "Well if we see him, we'll have to send him back and maybe mention to him to be sure he needs as much cheese as he took."

We shopped a bit longer and had to double back to get apple juice and coffee. As we turned down that isle, Bailey spotted our bespectacled young friend. "I'm gonna tell him about the Colby Jack," I said. I walked over to him and said, "Hey, we found the Colby Jack." 

He looked up. "Oh you did?"

"Yup, it's the very last kind hanging up right before you get to the butter. And by the way, we noticed you took a lot of cheese. Are you sure you need that much?"

The young boy reached into his cart and pulled out his list. He said, "Yes, see, this is what I need." There in black ink, an adult hand had penned a grocery list. Included on that list was 8 cups of shredded Colby Jack cheese.

"Well you are right," I said. "You got the right amount. Now you can go back and get the right kind, too."  Again, our young friend went on his way to the dairy isle for cheese, but not before thanking Bailey as he pushed his cart past her.

Bailey and I looked at each other, full of emotion. Here we were on Holy Saturday morning witnesses to a resurrection story of sorts. Easter came early for us this year. This young boy was being a light for his family, especially his mom; he was doing what we are all called to do--he was being Jesus in the world. The hands, the feet, the heart of our risen Lord and Savior.

All I can say on this Easter Monday is wow!!  He is risen. He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!!!

"If, therefore, I the Lord and Master have washed your feet, you also ought to wash the feet of one another. For I have given you an example, that as I have done to you, so you also should do."
                                                   ~John 13:14-15

Is it okay that I don't serve dessert?

My husband Mark and I enjoy hosting family members and others for meals. We don't get fancy in the kitchen, but we don't go hungry. Mark likes to grill chicken, burgers, brats, fish and anything else we get a hankering for. He uses the grill year round, and in spite of the brutal Wisconsin winter we are still living through, Mark grilled chicken just a few weeks ago. We enjoy entertaining as a way to touch base, catch up, and maintain relationships. 

But it occurred to me recently that we rarely serve dessert. We offer snacks, salads, vegies, fruits, potatoes, soup, and meat. But it seems that unless we are celebrating a birthday, we don't offer chocolate, pie, cake or cookies. Ice cream is about the only sweet you might find in our freezer. That isn't to say I don't like dessert. Heck, if I have cookies in the cookie jar, I tend to eat them after every meal until they are gone. And if I happen to have M & M's in my cupboard, I'll eat those, too.  So why not serve dessert?  Here are my top three reasons for not offering dessert after a delicious meal:

~Empty calories. Chocolate, cake, pie and cookies are full of sugar, fat, and calories. Who needs all of that?

~Time saver. Mixing and baking dessert takes extra time. Time is something we don't have a lot of, so getting the meal on the table is a priority...dessert might have a chance if I happen to have extra time.

~I'm full. If dinner is tasty and there is enough of it, I don't have room for dessert anyway, so why bother?

“Some people prefer eating dessert to the main course. These people have never been really hungry.”
― Vera Nazarian

Repent and be Faithful to the Gospel

I am a marked woman...my forehead bears a cross of ashes...it boldly says, "I am a sinner."

I fall short of the glory of God; there are areas in my life that need less me and more Jesus--times and circumstances where I think I can do it better and handle it without relying on God's grace. Inevitably, I stumble, fall, and sin. 

The Church, in her infinite wisdom, sets aside this time of fasting, prayer and alms-giving as an opportunity to look deep inside, turn away from the things that keep us apart from our loving God, and turn toward a stronger relationship with Jesus.

My local church encouraged us to take a stone as we left church today. It is to be a reminder during this Lenten season of the ways in which we hold on to a hard or 'stoney' heart; it gives us a chance to ask what are the obstacles in my life that keep me from a deeper relationship with Jesus? What are the changes I need to make? How can I be more like Jesus in a world desperate for love?

When I was younger, I really didn't like Lent. It meant I had to give up something for almost six weeks (usually that was candy or ice cream), it meant we didn't eat meat on Fridays, it meant I attended daily mass with my dad, and it meant the church was bare and sparsely decorated. All in all I saw Lent as kind of a downer.

As I've grown in my faith and love for Jesus and as my understanding of the church year has deepened, I see Lent as a holy, special time. There are many opportunities for prayer and growth; for silence and simplicity; for change and renewal. It is a chance to say, yes I am a sinner, but it doesn't end there. I have a savior who loves me like no other, accepts me where I am and calls me, ever so gently, to be more of who He wants me to be.

That's what Lent is all about.

NO!

As I was walking on my treadmill this morning, a piece on television about a couple who participated in the just concluded winter Olympics caught my attention. I turned up the volume and became more incredulous as I listened.

In a nutshell, here is what I learned:  A 47 year old man and his 48 year old wife from Montana (that is a state in these United States of America) participated in the Winter Olympic Games under the flag of the island country of Dominica (he actually carried the flag in the opening ceremonies!).  He, Gary di Silvestri, and his wife, Angelica Morrone, acquired "economic citizenship" in Dominica by donating a minimum of $175,00 to the country.  And according to the president of the commonwealth of Dominica, no Olympic rules or principles were violated.  Additionally, this couple was slated to participate in a cross country skiing event during the Olympic games. Guess what? Neither finished the event due to medical reasons.

As I finished my workout, several words were running around inside my head, but the one that I actually looked up is "spoiled."  On line, Miriam Webster defines spoil:  to give (someone, such as a child) everything that he or she wants : to have a bad effect on (someone) by allowing too many things or by not correcting bad behavior   

 Can I get an amen here??? 

Now maybe these folks are hard working, God fearing people who meant no harm. I really don't know much about them. Since this is my blog, I'll take a bit of liberty, go out on a limb and just say it...I think they are spoiled. They probably have gotten what they've wanted most of their lives and nobody who really loves them has ever said NO...No, honey, we aren't throwing you a birthday party. Why? because you are only turning seven. We will celebrate your birthday with the family just like we've done every year since you were born. Grandma and grandpa will come, your cousins and aunts and uncles will all be here.  Maybe on your tenth birthday you can have a big party with lots of friends. That will give you something to look forward to. No, you can't have a new bike. Why? because your brother's bike has plenty of wear left in it, he's older, so we are looking for a new bike for him. Your time will come. No, we aren't buying you a cell phone. Why? because you are twelve years old and if you need to use a phone, you can use the one on the counter top in our kitchen. No, we aren't buying you your own car. Why? because we can't afford it. You can probably get a ride to the high school with one of the kids in the neighborhood. And when you absolutely need a car, you can take the family van. No, you can't stay out all night after Prom. Why? because you're a high school junior and I don't want you sleeping at Sally's house even if the boys are sleeping in the basement. No, you can't participate in the Olympics just because you have enough money to buy economic citizenship into a country in which you don't reside and putting up all that money didn't violate any Olympic rules or principles.Why? because you are spoiled rotten. Think about the athletes (real athletes) who actually live in the countries they represent (or have some ties, other than financial, to the countries they represent), have practiced for years, have sacrificed for years, have dreamed for years, have gotten sponsorships because they are really...athletes! Honor them by acknowledging that just doing something because you have the money to make it happen is bad behavior and undermines the integrity of the Olympic spirit.

I can say with pretty much certainty and it can probably be verified by our kids, that Mark and I didn't spoil our children. We used that little word early and often!  We aren't perfect parents by any stretch of the imagination, but we loved our kids enough to just say no!

Birthday Wishes

My mom is 86 years old today. 86 years is a long time. I am proud of her and so happy she is my mom.

I gave her a 'thank you' note, along with a pretty pink sweater, a pretty black and white scarf, and a 'task' lamp which will hopefully help her see better to read. Happy Birthday, Mom! You are the best. Here's the note I wrote for her:

For Mom with Love on your 86^th Birthday

Thank you for sending me to sell chili supper tickets for the seminarians and poppies for the American Legion—it taught me self-confidence and the need to get behind a worthy cause.

Thank you for being a stay-at-home mom—you taught me to value motherhood and grounded me for life.

Thank you for teaching the handicapped about God’s love—it demonstrated in a profound way that all are worthy and lovable.

Thank you for believing in my athletic ability and supporting me in those endeavors—it taught me about teamwork, hard work, and that bus trips to Oshkosh could be a lot of fun!

Thank you for loving Dad—you showed me, even before I needed to know, how to be a married woman.

Thank you for having six children in spite of what the doctor said—if not, I wouldn’t be here!

Thank you for your love of reading and learning—what a wonderful gift to give a child!

Thank you for listening to me the night I called from Eau Claire and said “I’m not going back to that hospital. I just can’t do it”—you told me I could, that it would get better…and it did!

Thank you for your ministry to the sick and dying, especially to grandma—it shaped me and helped me to be comfortable; to see the person, not the illness.

Thank you for tents over the clotheslines, garage shows, and that brand new banana seat bike—I had a charmed childhood and look back with many smiles.

Thank you for being the best grandma and great-grandma for our children—I believe they know how blessed they are and have a deeper understanding of family because of you.

Thank you for supporting my writing—you’ve been my best cheerleader over the years, and I can always count on you to applaud what I create J

Thank you for listening to people all these years—you have a keen sense about humanity which is a true gift.

Thank you for your faithfulness to our God—it is the best and greatest gift you’ve given me. He will never fail us and I know this because you have shown me.

Thank you for being my mom—you are the best and I wouldn’t trade you for anyone!

I love you, Mom. Happy Birthday!

Mary

 

      My beautiful mom, Althea, with my big brother Tom...looking good!

"I'm sort of his agent..."

Seriously, what is it about this season of American Idol??? I think I've watched the show from the first season in 2002, but I can't remember ever being so emotional. I seem to cry as much as the contestants--especially those who get their "golden" ticket; their opportunity to sing in the next round of competition in Hollywood.

Maybe it has to do with my age. After all, I'm twelve years older than I was when the show first aired. Do you get more emotional with age?

Maybe it has to do with their age. The competitors seem so young...lots and lots and lots of teenagers. Teenagers and their behavior don't usually make me cry, so what's up with that?

Maybe it's about the stories some of them share; stories of family tragedy and triumph, poverty, addiction and rehab, love lost and found.  Idol has always revealed the stories of its contestants. In previous seasons, maybe those stories focused more on the goofy folks who didn't stand a snowball's chance of singing success, much less making a career in the music industry. This season the producers are giving more air time to talent and I like it!

Maybe it's about the fact that these people can really sing. The show seems to showcase honest to goodness ability waiting to be discovered, uncovered, and celebrated. 

Maybe it's about the judges. Keith Urban, Jennifer Lopez, and Harry Connick, Jr. appear genuinely interested in finding talent, nurturing talent, and giving people the chance of a lifetime. None of them seems interested in exploiting a lack of talent for television ratings...is that a naive statement?

In the end, I guess it doesn't matter why I'm enjoying this television show as much as I am. Perhaps it's about all of the above.  I'm older and wiser. The contestants are young. They have stories that will break your heart and make you stand up and cheer.  The judges seem fair and honest and they are intelligent, funny and entertaining in their own right. And the bottom line is there are a lot of really talented people who dream big in hopes of being the next American singing sensation.

So if you are looking for me on a Wednesday or Thursday night from now until sometime mid-May, I'll be the "puddle" sitting on my couch drinking a diet Coke, tapping my foot as some amazing young person sings his or her heart out. After all, this is American Idol, baby!

Here is one of my favorite auditions from this season (so far). I like this young man's story and his voice.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rpNZFe1RpgA

A January Thought

Most of my Christmas decorations are put away. I say most because inevitably I'll be somewhere in the house in the next week or so and find a small candle or a string of white lights that missed my initial packing. It happens every year. And every year when I make the discovery I get disgusted with myself. It's extra work and takes extra time to find the right box in the basement and put the decoration away once and for all.

As I reflect on the ritual of Christmas decorating, I must acknowledge that it takes time. I never put things in exactly the same place each year. The Christmas tree and the nativity set find their homes in the southwest corner of the family room and on the mantel, respectively. The rest of the decorations get displayed depending on my taste, whether or not I made new purchases, and the amount of time I have to prepare my home for the season.

That I leave a few decorations behind at the end of this festive season is part of the process. Perhaps I should realize that finding those small items gives me an opportunity to extend Christmas; to take time to reflect on this beautiful season of the year which passes all too quickly; to keep the memories made and the laughter shared in my heart a bit longer; to recommit myself to living more like the baby born in the manger, Jesus Christ our Savior and Lord.

Here's to finding candles and lights every day; chances to keep Christmas, to keep Jesus, alive and close all year long. Happy New Year!