Opponent or Enemy?

There is always risk when I sit down, stare at the blank page, and begin to type. I feel a bit more angst than usual because the subject I want to write about is touchy at best and  disgusting at worst! If there was some way to make this eight letter word smaller here, I would do it. But since there isn't, I'll just get it out there.  Politics! I'm gonna write about politics. There it is. You can choose to quit reading if you want, and I will not take offense. The good Lord knows there has been a lot written and said about the 2016 Election. If you care to read further, I hope you find something new to think about...and pray about.

In the mid 1980's, I had the privilege of helping coach the Kimberly High School girls varsity basketball team. The head coach at the time was Lee Levknecht. His first year as the girls coach, 1978-1979, had been my senior year of high school. The formation I received from Coach Levknecht, both when I  played for him and when I coached next to him, stays with me to this day.

Several years after he finished coaching in Kimberly, I saw him at an alumni basketball tournament. We started talking and catching up. As often happens with the important people in my life, our conversation did not remain just surface small talk. Coach and I were chatting about kids and competition. I don't recall his exact words, but I won't forget the essence of what he said. "I don't know when it happened Mary, but at some point it seems, we went from seeing the other team as our opponent to seeing them as our enemy. Kids want to beat the competition because they hate them. We need to get back to a healthy sense of competition." Coach Levknecht seemed puzzled by this realization and I heard concern in his voice, for good reason.

Fast forward to 2016. We find ourselves nearing the end of what seems like one of the longest election seasons in recent memory. I don't think I'm risking my good name by stating that the two presidential candidates have long ago abandoned the idea of seeing the other as a worthy opponent, and instead, have approached each other as enemies. There has been so much anger, vitriol, character assassination, and lack of proper decorum between the two, that the prospect of voting for either one of them seems ridiculous. There is no turning back, though. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, one or the other will soon become the 45 President of these United States of America. And then what? I wonder what will happen on November 9 when the votes are counted?

I hope and pray we wake up and realize that we are all on the same team, in the same boat; that while we may have opposing views about how to solve the big problems in this country, we are not enemies.

I believe the vast majority of people live in the middle. And what do I mean by 'live in the middle?' Most of us have much more in common than our political party platforms would ever allow us to believe. I am guessing most of us want clean water, clean air, a clean planet for generations to come. We just may differ in our ideas about how to achieve it. Most Americans want quality education, state of the art medical care, adequate employment opportunities, fair wages, safe streets, religious freedom; a chance at life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Again, the means to achieve these standards may be different, but the desire for them is strong, true, and dare I say, unifying? Let's get behind that, shall we? Let's get behind the idea that with a little give and take, some compromise, and civil conversation, unity is not only achievable, but it is sustainable. Let's applaud healthy competition among opponents and let's stop viewing people who want what we want, folks who live in the middle where we live, as our enemies.

"Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?"  
    ~ Abraham Lincoln

"Whenever you are confronted with an opponent, conquer him with love."
    ~Mahatma Gandhi

Memorial Day

I watched the National Memorial Day Concert on public television last evening. It has become a tradition for me. My dad happened upon it several years ago and I remember watching it with him over the years. The broadcast moves me. It is a combination of patriotic music, stories of heroism, bravery, and sacrifice across all wars, and it is a salute to the men and women who have served and continue to serve our great country. It takes place on the lawn of the White House.

Last night's program aired in spite of rainy conditions. Because of the weather, the crowd on the lawn was quite a bit smaller than in years past, but the stories and sounds were no less poignant. Gary Sinise narrated the story of one Jack Farley. Jack is a Vietnam veteran who lost his left leg above the knee. You can read more about him at this link https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_J._Farley,_III

Today especially, and most any other day I stop to really think about the young men and women who fought and died to preserve our way of life, I thank God for their self-sacrifice.

It is with a grateful heart that I will go about my day, remembering those who served, remembering those who gave their lives to preserve our freedom, and remembering those who continue to serve. I pray God bless our world; that His truth may indeed, march on!  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QSiVjlknuSw
Happy Memorial Day!

I'm Still Alive!

It's been six months since last I published here, give or take a few days, so I thought I'd get back to it. I'm rusty and have avoided sitting down to this blank screen because I'm a little afraid that I won't be able to write well enough to actually hit the 'publish' button when I'm finished. My fingers are crossed, figuratively, and here I go!

To say a lot has happened since last September would be an understatement. I never intended this blog to be a diary of my life, but since it's been quite awhile since my last post, I'll list a few highlights and perhaps you'll understand why my fear of being too rusty isn't the only reason I've been away.

~Luke and Bailey came to live with us in mid-July. They started new jobs here in the Valley and purchased a home in Kimberly. It was a fixer-upper. Mark and I helped them with lots of the 'fixer-uppering'--painting, plumbing, cleaning, etc. A professional sanded and refinished beautiful hardwood which had been hiding under the living room carpet. Luke and Bailey moved into their first home in mid-October.

~It wasn't long after the move that Luke and Bailey announced they were expecting a baby, scheduled to arrive on April 12, 2016! We were over the moon for them, as they had suffered the loss of their first baby due to a miscarriage last spring. On December 7, they brought over the ultrasound pictures. Watch the video below to see our reaction to the pictures!

 

At 22 weeks, that was the last news we expected to hear since an earlier ultrasound only showed one baby. But "two babies" equals TWINS, and that's a "wow" any time!

~We began a complete kitchen renovation in late August of 2015 and our new granite counter-top was put in on September 30. We lived five and a half weeks without a kitchen--no sink, no stove/oven, no cabinets...no kitchen! I never thought I'd hear myself say, "I'm really sick of eating out," but after about two weeks of no kitchen, that is exactly what I said! Luke and Bailey were living with us throughout the renovation and they were troopers. We couldn't be more pleased with the outcome! Check it out...I feel like I'm living in a HGTV kitchen every day!

Kitchen work area--before

Before

Refrigerator wall before

Peninsula before

One more before photo

New island with pendant lights

New island with seating for five

No more peninsula-I love my new kitchen!

Refrigerator wall with seed glass cupboard

A larger look-through to the family room!

~Then came Thanksgiving and Christmas!

~At the end of January, Mark and I flew to New Bern, North Carolina for what is probably the last time. Our son-in-law, Nick, finished his four year active duty commitment to the United States Marine Corps, and he elected to close the book on his military service. Nick will remain in the inactive reserves for the the next four years. Leah, Miriam, Lyla and I flew home, while Nick and Mark drove the 20 hours from N.C. to Milwaukee; all their earthly possessions in a U-haul truck and the family minivan. We were very relieved to see the boys pull into the neighborhood in Milwaukee!

~Now for more about the babies. Late in January, Bailey experienced signs of early labor. She was hospitalized for two days and placed on bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy. She was 27 weeks along the day she was discharged from the hospital. In the early morning hours of March 7, I got a text message from Luke. Bailey's water broke and they were heading to the hospital. At 12:23 p.m. and 12:43 p.m. on Monday March 7, our beautiful grandsons were born. Leo and Max have spent the first four weeks of their lives in the NICU. Max came home today, praise the Lord. Leo remains in the hospital. Hopefully, it won't be long and this beautiful family of four can be together at home! Luke and Bailey are already awesome parents!

Leo in blue, Max looking at dad!

~Over the last three months, I've been working with a local assisted living facility to make arrangements for my mom. She turned 88 years old in February, and it is time for her to be in an environment where she can get additional care/help if she needs it. A move is planned for April 23. There will be a period of transition for her, but I think once the dust settles, she will be happy, comfortable, and safe in her new home.

My life has been busy these past several months, and I am a blessed woman. In spite of the busyness (is that a word?), I hope to write more often here. No promises, but I've got some ideas running around my head that I need to give voice to. Oh yes, I'm still alive! :)

Honoring Luke

There are times in life that cause a person to pause, reflect, and grow. Yesterday was one of those times for me.

Sunday September 20, 2015 has been on our calendar as the date for the 25th Annual Fox Cities Marathon. Our son Luke decided about two months ago that he would participate, and he began training in earnest.

Our house was a bee hive of activity yesterday morning (at 5:30, no less!) as the five of us got up and ready to take Luke to the start line. Ben drove home from Madison the night before, so he, Mark, our daughter-in-law Bailey, myself, and Luke got up and at 'em!

We dropped Luke off a short distance from the starting line. He hugged and kissed Bailey, we wished him well, and watched him walk toward the beginning of the 26.2 mile course, a garbage bag over his shoulders for warmth. I felt a lot of pride as I watched him walk away.

With cowbells and signs of support in hand, along with coffee and sustenance for our journey, we drove just beyond mile three and waited. As the lead runners appeared and the sun rose higher in the early morning sky, I said a prayer of thanks for the good weather and asked God to be with Luke. Before long, Luke came toward us looking strong and running at his expected pace. We rang our bells and cheered loudly! After he passed us, we jumped in the car and headed to our next vantage point, just beyond mile six. Again, Luke looked strong and on pace, smiling as he ran by (see the pictures below). All of us were excited, happy, and feeling good about Luke's race so far.

At mile nine, after climbing the long Park Street hill in Combined Locks, Luke still had a smile, but seemed to have less of a skip in his step which I attributed to that brutal hill. We only captured his 'backside' as he passed us, but the local newspaper captured our front sides, cheering, clapping, and jumping for our Luke. :)

We saw Luke next at the corner of Kimberly Ave. and Wilson street, just about mile number eleven.  When I saw Luke's face, it reminded me of one of his high school Cross Country meets. Luke was a Junior that year and early in the race, ran square into an electrical box on the course. He did not know how serious his injury was and did not stop running until his coaches pulled him off the course. The cut on his thigh would later require several stitches. None of us knew what had happened; we just knew he was behind his expected race time. When Luke's face came into view at that CC meet, I commented to Mark that it looked like something was wrong. And when he got close enough for us to see his whole body, we could see the blood running down his leg and suspected he had fallen or gotten spiked. I had that same sinking feeling yesterday when I saw Luke's face at mile eleven. The pictures below tell the story. Something wasn't right and it showed.

We got into our car and drove home for a quick bathroom break and coffee refill. Back on the course at about mile thirteen, Luke's pace had slowed considerably and we could see that he was now walking. Mark went to meet him and brought watermelon and bottled water. As they approached where we were standing, I could feel a cloud of dread hovering. We spoke words of encouragement to Luke, telling him to drink and to eat a little; we said "You can do it" and "You'll find it. Just walk it out. You're okay." I said a silent prayer, asking God to give Luke courage and strength.

When we got back in the car, Mark said that Luke told him the hills really took it out of him. He said his head was pounding and his stomach was upset. Luke told Mark he had thrown up just after we had seen him on Wilson Street. I think I said what everyone in the car was thinking. "Luke is not going to want to stop." Mark's response was something like, "Ya, but how long do you let him go before it gets dangerous?"

We drove to a spot below the College Avenue Bridge in Appleton, again to offer Luke encouragement and support and be there should he decide not to finish. I think we were near mile fourteen. This time, we could see that Luke was running again. My heart got a little lighter. Mark joined him on the road, and again the local newspaper captured the moment; a wonderful photo of a father and his son (I love this picture!). The report from Luke this time was a little better. His head wasn't pounding and he was able to keep the watermelon down. He was feeling a little better. Maybe he had gotten through the worst of it. With tears in my eyes, I prayed a prayer of gratitude.

Our joy was short-lived. At about mile fifteen, Luke was once again walking and working really hard. We encouraged him the best we could. I thought to myself how can he keep going--there are nine more miles to go?

At about mile seventeen, it was my turn to walk with Luke. I took him a banana (he had told us previously that his calves were cramping). He ate about two bites; I don't really remember what I said to him. I wish I could say I waxed philosophical and wise, but that was not the case. Pretty sure I just said, "You are doing it, Luke. Glad your head isn't hurting. Keep it up. You can do it!"

We hurried to mile nineteen. Mark and Ben took off running to meet Luke almost immediately after we parked the car. Bailey and I stood on the corner and cheered for the runners as they passed. We made small talk, but mostly worried about Luke. After fifteen minutes or more, Bailey and I thought maybe we should get in the car and head in the direction the runners were coming from. Just as we had that thought, Mark called Bailey's cell phone and said they still hadn't seen Luke. Just then, Mark said there he is and told Bailey to wait on the line. A short minute later, Mark told Bailey he and the boys would walk to us. Luke had decided to stop.

Nineteen miles and it was over. There would be no fan fair at the finish line for Luke; no finishers medal or t-shirt; no bragging rights and happy photos on social media. No feeling of satisfaction in spite of complete exhaustion.  Just a hollow feeling of defeat; of not being able to finish something you started.

I've seen lots of posts on Facebook in the last 24 hours about people finishing the marathon and half marathon; pictures of the "angels" who ran for those too sick or unable to run; many wonderful photos of all kinds of joy.  And please don't get me wrong. I enjoy seeing those photos and hearing about those experiences, all worthy of their respective 'posts.' But because I knew of one runner who didn't finish, I was more sensitive this year to the fact that stories or photos about those who didn't finish were missing.

One caption caught my eye early this morning. It read "Running slow is not a character flaw...quitting is."  I understand that if quitting becomes an attitude and a habit for a person, that person has a character flaw. But on this particular morning, after watching my first born son give everything his 24 year old body would allow him to give and still not be able to finish the marathon, I wanted to scream at the computer screen--not a character flaw, no indeed!  On the contrary, I think Luke's decision to step away from that race showed the strength of his character.

On the one hand, it was probably an easy decision given how he was feeling and the shape his body was in, but on the other hand, it quite possibly was one of the hardest, most humbling decisions he has made in awhile. I submit that it took more wisdom, courage, and character to say "This just doesn't make any sense. I need to stop," than it would have to continue toward the finish line.

So this post is my way of honoring one Fox Cities Marathon runner who gave it everything he had. He struggled and fought hard, had the will and determination to accomplish the goal, but whose body, in the end, said no, this is not your day. One runner who had the wisdom, courage, and character to know his limit...and the humility to act. You're one of my heroes, Luke, and I love you!

Mile 3 - looking strong Luke!

Just after mile 6-coming out of the tunnel!

...that's our Luke!

Luke's backside at the top of Park St.

...Bailey, Ben (with the sign), me, and Mark cheering for our Luke!

Corner of Kimberly Avenue and Wilson Street

...I suspect something isn't quite right

...I know it's not good.

This is a special picture...these are two really special guys!

 Do you wish to rise? Begin by descending. You plan a tower that will pierce the clouds? Lay first the foundation of humility.     ~St. Augustine

June 22

My dad would have been 88 years old today. He died almost four years ago. I miss him. I miss his humor, his strength, his faith, his love, his intelligence, his humility, his calm presence, his ability to lead, and I miss him as the other half of mom. He was the best dad and a great man. I love you dad and I always will. Here is the link to his obituary http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/postcrescent/obituary.aspx?pid=152374173

Five years ago today, June 22, 2010, I was told I had ovarian cancer. Dr. Shahbandar's nurse called me mid-morning and told me the results of my blood work were in. She said Dr. Shah wanted to meet with me to discuss them. I stood in stunned silence in the living room of mom and dad's assisted living apartment and knew the news would not be good.

Mark and I met with Dr. Shah early afternoon on that June 22 and he wasted no time in sharing my diagnosis. He entered the exam room and said, "I am so sorry to tell you this, but you have ovarian cancer. This is not at all what I expected, but your blood-work indicates it. We must operate as soon as possible. I think you may have lesions on your colon, so I want Dr. Cheng in the operating room with me. That way, we will only open you up once." He continued to speak about how far treatment had come and that the first step was surgery. I remember thinking, "So this is what that feels like."

Mark and I were stunned and sad. We walked out of the office and took the stairs down to the ground level parking lot. At one point in the stairwell, I turned to Mark; we hugged. I sobbed. He cried too. We were concerned for me, obviously, but I remember worrying about how we would tell the kids. 

Surgery was scheduled for July 8, 2010. After surgery, as I was coming out of the anesthesia, I heard the most beautiful words ever spoken to me by Dr. Shah. "It is not cancer, you do not have cancer!" I wanted to jump off the gurney; I wanted to jump for joy! I could not speak or even open my eyes when first I heard that wonderful news, but when I finally could speak I said, "Praise the Lord!" Dr. Shah told me later that in addition to a complete hysterectomy, he removed a growth the size of a babies head from my abdomen. He also removed my appendix. I had lesions on my colon that would heal. And when Dr. Cheng visited me the next day, he told me they fixed my herniated belly button while they were in there :)

God healed me. I don't know why He did, but He did. And I am so grateful to Him for His goodness and love for me. Legions of people prayed for me in the two weeks from my diagnosis to my surgery. When I say legions, I mean legions. Many people I didn't even know were lifting me in prayer. I could feel the prayers, and I know it is the only thing that got me through those hard two weeks. Prayer and love; love and prayer.

If you are reading this post and you prayed for me in those dark days, thank you, Thank You, THANK YOU!!! If you don't know me and didn't pray for me but are reading this post, please know that prayer is powerful. Prayer works. I am a living, breathing example.

And since I tend to come 'full circle' in my writing, I'll share this little tidbit. A week after my surgery, I went to see my dad in his nursing home room (we had moved dad from their assisted living apartment into the nursing home and mom to her Hallmark Place senior apartment in the two weeks between my diagnosis and surgery--I'll post about that some other time!). I walked in, took his hand in mine, leaned in close and said, "Hey dad." Without hesitation, he responded, "Hi miracle girl."

I have tears in my eyes and it is good to be alive on this June 22, 2015! Also, I found this great song that fits my post. Hope you enjoy it!  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EOCQQQ7-GQI&list=RDEOCQQQ7-GQI

Geriatric Road Trip

Yesterday, I was blessed to be able to take my mom and two women who live in her apartment building to a funeral. The gentlemen whose life we were going to celebrate had also lived in their apartment building. Our destination was Immaculate Conception Church in Sheboygan, Wisconsin.

I picked up the gals at 9:15 in the morning. Mom sat beside me in the passenger seat of our Nissan Armada and Ceil and Evvy took the seats behind ours. Mom and Ceil are 87 years old, and Evvy is 88 years old. I am 54. If my math is correct, the average age in my vehicle yesterday was 79. Definitely a geriatric road trip!

We were less than ten minutes down the road and Ceil asked if I had a GPS. "Do you know where we are going, Mary?" I assured her that I had put the address of our destination in my iPhone and I would get us to the church on time. :)  She wasn't worked up or nervous, just curious. And that is understandable. Ceil is usually the driver; usually the one in control, the one who knows where she is going. She has taken mom to church and other funerals when my schedule hasn't allowed me to do it. I have known Ceil for a long time; she and her husband were friends of mom and dad's for many years.

I met Evvy for the first time yesterday. I would define her as refined; a classy dame who was well-kept, wore nice clothes, and fine jewelry. She was friendly and kind and loves to laugh. She told a funny story about her young grandson. Years ago, he was frustrated with a toy and swore---  "_ _ _ Dammit," he shouted. His grandpa heard him and said, "What did you just say?"  The little guy didn't miss a beat and responded, "Well, what did you just hear?" :)

I've known my mom my whole life! She sat in the front seat and watched the Wisconsin landscape zip by. We talked about the beauty of our state, the shades of green you see at this time of year, and how much we love living here where the seasons change four times a year (sort of). Mom is hard to hear these days because she is quite soft spoken and isn't able to project her voice due in part to her osteoporosis. The noises of automobile travel don't help, so she spoke and I tried to hear what she had to say, while the gals in the back kept up a steady banter between them.

We arrived on time and were able to celebrate a beautiful funeral mass in honor and memory of our friend, Andy. Andy was my friend, too, since one of his daughters is a friend of mine. He was 91 years old when he died. Andy was a remarkable man. 'Kind,' 'gentle,' and 'humble' were just a few of the words his son used to describe him during the eulogy. There were some tears, but mostly hugs, smiles, and shared stories to honor a truly decent human being. We all are better people for having known Andy, and I am certain God opened the gates of heaven Himself and said, "Come on in, Andy. You're home."

We were back in the car and heading North on I43 by 12:30 p.m. I dropped the ladies off shortly before 2:00 p.m. and had all I could do to decline Ceil's offer to help pay for gas. It was a thoughtful gesture, I thanked her, but I was quick to refuse it. I shook Evvy's hand and said I hoped to see her again.And I meant it. I kissed mom on the cheek, gave her a hug and whispered "I love you" in her ear, and jumped back in my car.

As I pulled out of the parking lot and glanced back toward the apartment building I couldn't help but notice those three women having one last word with each other out in the brilliant afternoon sunshine before moving inside. A lot of wisdom there, I thought, a whole lot of wisdom.

If ever you get the chance, take a geriatric road trip. And in the mean time, take a listen to one of my favorite Bee Gee's songs about life.   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l2nMFrkL4l8
 

A word about friendship

I have some really good friends. Yesterday, I spent the better part of my day with Amy, my oldest and truest friend. We watched her son play in his high school sectional baseball games. What fun! He played shortstop in the first game and in game two, he pitched two innings, as well as played shortstop. The team, Kimberly High School, won the sectional and advanced to the state baseball championship next week at Fox Cities Stadium in Appleton. Good for them, but better for me since I got to share the day with Amy.

Amy and I have been friends since we were two years old. Our mom's talk about the day the Vosters moved into the house at 137 Jefferson Place. Amy's mom came across the street, saw me in the playpen and said, "Well, you are going to be just right for our Amy." That was 52 years ago; she was so right! Amy is the best. She is fun, funny, true to herself, interested in others, loving, faithful, faith-filled, honest, kind, caring...just the very best kind of person you want in your life! I wouldn't be the person I am today if not for her friendship and love. I am blessed, indeed.

This morning, I met two good friends for coffee. Alice is 81 years old and Betty will be 77 later this year. Among other things, I share my love of reading and writing with these two "gems." In fact, for several years we three were members of the "Unpolished Gems," a local group of writers who met monthly to share stories and poems. We would critique one another's writing, always with an eye to  better our craft. We read our original stories as part of a 'dinner theater' at Atlas Cafe and Coffee Mill in Appleton.  And we even held a writing contest for Kaukauna High School students, awarding cash prizes for first through third place at each grade level. 

Betty and Alice are wise and wonderful women. We don't see each other often, but when we do, we do not lack for conversation. Today was an extra special treat. As we conversed over coffee (I had a strawberry/banana smoothie--yum!) and scones, Alice began talking about her garden and how much work she has been doing in it. The next thing we knew, she offered to take us on a tour!

We drove the few short miles to her Combined Locks home. She met us in the driveway holding wide brimmed hats! "Just in case the sun bothers you," she said. Have I mentioned that I love Alice?!? I love Alice...and Betty too!  We had a lovely tour through her garden, and as I'm writing this, I realize the only pictures I took were of us, not the beauty of Alice's garden. Oops! Perhaps I'll be lucky enough to stop in at her home again soon...if I do, I'll be sure to take some photos of the beauty in her backyard!

Friends come in all shapes, sizes, and ages. Today I am grateful for my friends; the ones I've known almost a lifetime, those I've yet to meet, and every one in between.

Winter 1969-Amy is in the red hood. I'm in my brother's hand-me-down winter coat!

A more recent photo of Amy with her husband, Matt. Matt is my first cousin!

Left to Right:  Me, Betty, and Alice wearing our lovely garden hats!

A friend is what the heart needs all the time. ~Henry Van Dyke