He did not view the outcome as a result of clumsiness, but as a neat trick.

Nicholas practiced carrying his toys downstairs. Until, TUMBLE-CRASH! Noticing the shape of the hole in the wall he exclaimed, "It's a moon!"





































(Can anyone tell me where this last picture was taken?)

*An uncharacteristically short post for me, I didn't realize how difficult it would be to write these four little sentences! You have until tomorrow to post your kid story for Abraham Piper's newest 22 Word Challenge.

Merry Christ-Came-to-Earth-To-Be-One-of-Us-and-To-Die-For-Our-Sins-That-We-Might-Know-His-Love-and-Believe Day!

Try greeting folks with that when you head out to shop for those last-minute stocking stuffers!

So technically, this is post #100, and I am diligently working on my "100 Things". However, it is one week until Christmas, and I wanted to share my Christmas poem! I don't put up much of my poetry or whatever because I'm a little timid, but this is something I like to hand out to strangers at this time of year. It's better than a tract because it's personal. I've given it out to people I've sat with on airplanes, to cashiers in grocery stores, wherever I connect with a person for a long enough moment so that it's not too awkward. I know I should have kept the poem to about half of the 4-liners there are, but I just kept writing. Hmmm...story of my life!

Hope you enjoy!

Oh, and there have been many, many updates from Victoria's mom on the CarePages website. Sign in and be blown away. That family is amazing. We hope to minister to them, and they minister to us!! Keep praying for Victoria. It looks like the chemo is thrusting her into remission, but that is not an absolute fact yet. And even if remission takes place there may be one or two leukemia cells hidden inside her body among billions of other normal cells, so she will still endure many procedures in the weeks and perhaps months to come. Just...visit their website.

Merry Christmas (er, well, you know!), Blogosphere!!!



















A REFLECTION FOR CHRISTMAS

We sing “Silent Night”
And trim up the tree,
Spend hours perfecting
Sweet holiday treats.

We gather with friends,
Throw parties with flare,
Stamp letters to send,
Wrap presents to share.

We play in our mem’ries
Of bundled up youth
And race with toboggans—
Make snow angels, too!

Shortbread and spritz,
We munch with delight,
And brimming tea mugs
Add warmth to the night.

As long as the fireside
Continues to glow,
And long as the rooftops
Are sprinkled with snow,

If harmonies waft
Through radios still
And strangers bid greetings
Of peace and goodwill,

We’ll revive traditions,
Share stories of old,
Tear into packages
Laced with silver and gold.

But what if this season,
Our stockings were bare?
And what if each heart
Like Scrooge, didn’t care?

What would there be, then,
To make Christmas shine,
If hollow were presents,
And drooping were pines?

If snowflakes were square
And berries were white,
If cookies lost sprinkles,
And candy canes, stripes?

If Christmas lost Christ…
How awful to think
We’d abandon our Savior
With hardly a blink,

That holiday fun
And chestnuts that roast
Would become our standard
And matter the most,

That we’d let our hearts
Dwell too much on things,
Instead of adoring
Our Jesus, our King!

Caught up in giving
And getting, perhaps,
He sometimes gets buried
‘Neath ribbon and wrap.

The wonder of Christmas—
When did we let go?
The meaningful story
We loved long ago?

The child in the manger
Whose intent was the cross,
The hope that the season
Too often has lost.

Festivities fade
And candlesticks dim,
Yet something within us
Must turn us to Him.

For in sleigh-bell chimes
And tinsel-tree gleams
In sugar-plum dances
And mistletoe dreams,

Among all the bustle
Beyond credit buys,
And stress from adhering
To advertising lies,

We find only despair
And regret of mistake
When again, we’ve let Christmas
Be observed as a fake.

When our efforts are fixed
On the glittering spruce
We tend not to catch sight
Of this great Christmas truth.

What a treasure it is,
Or should be, to know
That God came to us,
His mercy to show.

The unspeakable gift
Of His heavenly grace
Was received by the meek
In the lowliest place.

That’s just how we ought
To draw near to His birth
He asks not, our wealth,
Our goodness or worth.

If all of the magic
And décor were gone
Erased the commercial,
The apparel, we don,

If, but for a time,
All voices would still,
All hands would unwind,
That our hearts, He might fill.

Whether family is near
Or friends are apart,
If all that we give
Is a worshipful heart,

We’d see that the twinkling
Of lights on display,
Can’t shine near as bright
As the babe on the hay,

That holly and ivy
May garnish the hearth,
But trimming for the soul
Is found in Jesus’ birth,

That the gifts that we give
And the glasses we raise
Are just means to express
His glory and praise.

For the reason we join
Together each year
Is not to lift up
Or honor us here.

It’s Christ that we raise
And His songs that we sing,
Our cheery delight’s,
His love offering.

If we should forget
And make Christmas a day
We set aside faith
And think not to pray,

The joy in our hearts
Would certainly wane
For without God’s Son,
We celebrate in vain.

Without Him, this season
We wouldn’t have peace
And holiday parties
Would soon enough cease.

So this year, let’s look
Beyond pumpkin pies,
Past cranberry tarts
And satisfied sighs,

Let’s continue to sing
And decorate still
Let’s even light candles
And stockings—please fill!

But before we send greetings
And loved ones, embrace,
Let’s fall to our knees
And seek our Lord’s face.

And now we give thanks
For in that silent night,
You birthed into our lives,
Your Grace, Peace, and Light.

This promise brings joy
That we hope will remain
The reason we’ll celebrate
Long past Christmas Day!


Tara (Nelson) Tichner
Copyright 2004

From Suave to Taboo: a 21st century smoker in the White House

I hearby stoop to posting an article I am writing for work because I just haven't tried writing anything else. Maybe this will spur me on!




In a recent NBC’s Meet the Press interview with president-elect Barack Obama, Tom Brokaw inquired about Obama’s personal stance on smoking. Obama responded by admitting that, while he occasionally lights up, as amid the pressure of the presidential campaign, he is actively working at becoming healthier. “What I said was that there are times where I’ve fallen off the wagon,” Obama confessed to Brokaw, when asked if he’d quit. Then, speaking of the White House Smoking Ban he went on to assure viewers, “…I think that you will not see any violations of these rules in the White House.”

Despite the flood of media at the beginning of December regarding Obama’s penchant for cigarettes, the topic of presidential smoking is far from new to the White House; indeed, a former non-issue.

Many U.S. presidents were avid cigar smokers, especially in the early days of the White House, with smoking much more socially acceptable and even considered debonair. Presidents Madison, Jackson, Grant, Arthur, Harrison, McKinley, Coolidge, and Kennedy all loved their cigars. According to the autumn 2003 online edition of Cigar Aficionado, “Between the Civil War and the Second World War, more presidents smoked cigars than did not” (Sferrzza Anthony, Carl. 'Our Presidents and Cigars').

Cigarette preferences belonged to Roosevelt and Eisenhower, and even the more recent presidents Nixon and Ford used tobacco products on occasion. Closet smokers included President Harding and First Lady Laura Bush. First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy was reported as an obsessive chain smoker, always indulging in secret.

Times have changed, as the nation has become increasingly aware of the severe health risks linked to both direct and indirect exposure to tobacco smoke. As possibly the most powerful and influential person in America, many wonder what kind of example a smoking president in this day and age could demonstrate to citizens and their families. Most might agree that when scrutinizing a president, we ought to keep the “main thing the main thing”. Focus on policy rather than personal. However, the fact remains that America has a new president who is trying to quit a habit that tends to have negative physical, mental, social, and emotional implications. How or whether that will play out over the next four years of Obama’s term, time will reveal.

Ironically, it was Obama’s former democratic opponent and personally named secretary of state, Hillary Rodham Clinton, who ultimately directed the White House Smoking Ban. Yet, if President-elect Obama continues along his track to better health, the Ban should not cause much tension. And who would argue against a healthier, albeit inexperienced commander-in-chief?

Trim the tree and wrap the presents, put the Christmas music on!

Join in the fun!

I honestly didn't think I had anything to say about the election results, but...

Something I find profound is that I don't remember hearing so many people responding to the outcomes of the last two elections (Bush and Bush) with as much determination and even desperation to pray for our nation as this one. Maybe the outcome of this election is just what conservative Christians, as a whole, have needed. Overnight, there seems to have spread a greater dependency on God with regards to our government and our future.

And I say that's a good thing!

Upon the election of Obama, we're quick to say how we trust that "God is sovereign and on His throne". True and amen! Yet, did we believe, live, and demonstrate these truths just as fiercely over the past eight years as has been expressed today? Or did we subconsciously put our trust in the Republican party, and only now that conservatism as we knew it (or at least a version of it) has been snatched up from under our feet, do we cling so tightly to "God's plan" and "God's will"? It's easy to grow distant, perhaps self-confident, when our Christian values don't seem so greatly at stake. When the tangible is gone, we relent to faith.

Although, every believer who has ever lived has struggled with this in some aspect of life. Faith is easy in smooth waters. So easy that it's not really faith. And I think I read somewhere about how life's trials can plant seeds of patience and perseverance. Couldn't hurt, right?

Just some thoughts based on the election reactions of several, if not most of my conservative Christian friends. (More like every other person's Facebook status!) If this is how God is going to dirty our knees and remind us Who alone is trustworthy, so be it! May Christ be glorified and prayer revived among His Church not just upon, but also throughout and beyond this next presidential term.

Three Things

While going through his file cabinet recently, my aunt and my mom found a special letter that my dad had written 8 years ago. You would not believe the volumes of notes and papers my dad has kept over the last three decades! Most have been thrown away, although I would have liked to have gone through them myself first! But it's just as well because everything is sentimental to me, but not everything is practical to keep. I did steal away a short pile of church bulletins with gobs (a dad word) of outlines and marginal references. My dad had notoriously messy handwriting, so making out sentences is somewhat difficult. Of course, his scribbles made perfect sense to him, whose eyes he assumed would be the only ones to read them.

Let me give you a visual:











This church bulletin is from November 5, 2000, just two days before Bush's first term!












There was one piece of writing that particularly stood out to my aunt Bev. My dad really had a heart to encourage. He was always one to write to soldiers in boot camp ("It's only a mind game." "Just do whatever they say and you'll be fine." "10 weeks and you're done." type thing.) He'd been there and, therefore, felt he could connect with the person. And he loved the novelty of a handwritten letter. I don't think he would have used email even if he had the time or the know-how!

Upon my half-cousin Matthew's (my dad's half sister Karen's son) high school graduation, my dad decided to write him a letter. We don't know Karen's sons very well at all, as I probably met them maybe three times in my life due to distance, and I think this was my dad's way of influencing a family member in the best way he could. It's funny because I don't remember receiving a letter like this when I graduated, but I suppose his numerous spontaneous and informal speeches to my brother and I could have been written up into a thousand paged letter!

We are not sure if my dad ever sent this letter. It's likely he could have gotten bogged down with the rough draft (what's that??) and the letter just got shuffled into some pile. Regardless, it ended up in his file cabinet he had titled, "Gary Personal." I never knew the file even existed until now.

The reason I feel my dad's "words of advice to a high-school graduate" needs typed up and recorded here on my blog is because of it's poignancy. This letter describes so honestly and soberly the things most important to my dad. It offers his struggles, his regrets, but also his hope and his desires. My dad was always about the "three things", and this letter is classic him.

I do have to say that the most difficult aspect of this letter is the last point. He basically predicted his death. It is remarkable to read, but so very, very heart-wrenching.

I hope this letter finds it's way into Matthew's hands.

*****

Congratulations on your graduation, Matthew.

I was there once myself and I remember it as if it was yesterday. My next question to myself was: "now what?".

I was pretty short-sighted back then - never thought about the long look. As a high school senior, I told my career counselor I planned on joining the Army that Fall (but first having fun over the summer). I lived with my step-dad most of my life up to that time, who was an Air Force career man and probably 65+% of the guys in my senior class, upon graduation, followed in the same footsteps. I guess "like produces like".

Well, being a rebel as I was, out of spite, I chose the Navy (Uncle Sam's best). My mother separated from my real dad (your grandpa Bill) when I was 6 and she re-married two years later to this Air Force guy, so that's how all this came about.

Your mom sent us your senior picture a couple weeks ago. You look like your Uncle Billy. I saw the resemblance immediately. Often, you have to be around someone for a long time to spot similarities, idioms, etc. of one person to another. But not with you two.

Well, if someone were to ask me, Matthew, what I would tell a high school graduate in this day and age, I wouldn't have to think very long and hard. I narrowed it down to three. And I would advise any graduate - including my own kids - exactly the same.

First, get to know the Lord in a real, intimate way (if you haven't already). He will give you direction in life, as well as eternal life. You can trust him (Proverbs 3:5-6; Hebrews 6:18). Also, he won't thwart your own interests, gifts, goals, etc. All our desires and interests we think are our own ultimately come from God. We don't conjure them up ourselves (James 1:17). This applies even today - Y ^ 2000 (Malachi 2:6; Hebrews 13:8).

Second, in relation to a career, be what you want to be. Please yourself over pleasing others in this area. I don't believe in always "following in the father's footsteps". If it works out that way, fine. But God has given us all the capacity to choose. As I already said, He doesn't hinder our interests and goals.

Unfortunately, circumstances may temporarily hinder/block you from reaching a career goal, like being short on finances, but you can make it up and start up again. Give it time. Can't scale a mountain by frantically climbing one plateau after another in one day. If you have to sit, park and rest on one level for a while, so be it. You'll be a lot stronger when you resume your climb again, I'll tell you that. Oftentimes, a temporary hindrance/block will give you valuable time to re-gather together some thoughts; maybe time to re-evaluate. You can circumvent a block in your life better with a clear head, and hanging in limbo for a while may be just what one needs.

My brother-in-law (Linda's brother Scott) went through three career changes in his life before he finally landed on what he thought he should do: first, he wanted to be a farmer, then became a semi driver, then went to school for a semester to become an eye doctor, then he felt called to the ministry - went through seminary and became a pastor, and last year he entered in the Air Force as a chaplain at age 36. He just made Captain last month. The bottom line - career preparation can be tedious and frustrating, but necessary. Actually, if you look at college or any career preparation from one point of view, you can say it's only a temporary interruption to life. Be like a stoic - grin and bear it. If it's college for you then an under graduate degree only takes 4 years. I look at it this way, if I knew how long anything grueling would last, then I could stand on my head doing it. Stick with it. Keep on keeping on. Your mother is aggressive. She is an excellent role model for you to follow in setting and reaching career goals.

The last thing I would advise a graduate is, the best you can - stay healthy. I heard a doctor say once that he concluded most chronic diseases people contract are a direct result of what goes in their mouth. We're just spinning our wheels/beating the air to think we can pacify our minds in believing good health is maintained only through ridged exercise and then chuck the diet. I'm not one to talk because I fight this problem tooth and nail. I'm a truck driver and that puts me around junk food all the time. I love pizza - "the works". I'll probably die of some food related chronic disease. But I know a ridged exercise program isn't totally the answer. The one who popularized jogging, as a matter of fact, died while jogging about 15 years ago. Nutritious food and good exercise compliment each other.

I have bronchial asthma - it's chronic. But I try to keep physically fit and I pay the price for the medication. As far as I'm concerned, there is no price too great to pay in order to feel good.

I should be the last one to dole out advice on life. I, like everyone else, have, still do, and probably will always struggle with all the dos and don'ts in this letter. I'm not infallible. Call all the home-spun wisdom, garage logic, whatever, all three pieces of advice equal Happiness (with a capital "H").

Our son Justin will be graduating from high school next year, and our daughter Tara will be starting her second year of college this Fall. Florida is eons away from Minnesota but maybe some day we can visit one another again.

Good luck to ya, guy!

Uncle Gary Nelson

A Little Bit of Everything

I am absolutely in heaven this moment. Heaven on earth, if there is such a thing.

Let's see...I'm sitting all cozy-like in my fleece and jeans at a classic rustic CARIBOU, sipping a delightfully satisfying Lite White Raspberry (my favorite!) on a perfectly gorgeous after-the-rain Autumn morning, just two blocks from my childhood home here in the Twin Cities. In my backpack I have stuffed Beth Moore, crochet hooks, and plenty of yarn!

And, get this - I am BLOGGING! Wooooa!

The only thing I forgot is to ask for my signature half-caff, so being a little jittery, I'm not sure what's going to pop out of these fingers!

I am going to remember this blessed time of reflection and recharge for a long time. Poor husband is still in Maryland, but he'll arrive by Alero come Sunday. Bless his road tripping heart.

Finally, an enjoyable reason to come home. I've been anticipating this trip for a while, although it is still somewhat bittersweet. The thought of staying at my mom's place brought a few mixed emotions. The reality of not coming home to my dad, yet seeing reminders of him everywhere at the house. It evoked some dreams of him over the last few days leading up to this trip. My mom got rid of the majority of his stuff but left a few drawers for me to pick through for possible mementos. A few scattered pictures, a fishing hat, some preaching tapes, some books, and that's about it. My brother already went through his workroom and collected his tools.

My dad was a simple man with minimal possession. For the most part, he didn't really have time for hobby since he was on the road so much. Looking back I know that is the reason it was so difficult to buy him gifts for Christmas or his birthday. I usually got him a book because of his love to read and learn, though he probably barely even got to crack them open. His head would droop and eyes would close after a couple pages.

One time he even fell asleep standing up! And at the Minnesota State Fair, of all places! My mom was running about the agricultural building, most likely scouring for honey or listening to some guy's live infomercial for the must-have amazing knife set. What else is a tired man to do with all the benches to capacity?

Mostly, though, I am happy to be here. Having lost my dad is something I have had to get used to, and it is good for me to let the memories of this place continue to bring closure and peace.

I would like to visit Golden Living Center where my dad spent the last two months of his life, but I'm a little apprehensive because of the flood of emotions I am most certain to experience when I walk into the place and see the nurses that cared for him hour-by-hour until the end. I would like to thank them in person, but I just don't know if I'm ready yet for such vivid memories of my dad's suffering. I lose it when I picture what he went through, but I keep forcing myself to imagine him in the presence of the Lord and enjoying a blissful Eternity. And then I am glad he is not here. Knowing what he knows now, he would not wish to come back, only anticipating our reunion when we join him. All I can say is, poor Lazarus.

My number one prayer for this visit is that we would enjoy a no-stress, low-key couple weeks with a perfect balance between alone time and family and friends. We'll see. The one practical goal we have, and also the reason my husband is driving instead of flying is so we can truck all my stuff back to the East Coast. My mom is actively trying to sell the house and it would appear a lot more aesthetic if she didn't have to deal with my many boxes and bins of randomicity.

It's not like we actually have the space to fit anything more into our 2-bedroom condo in Southern Maryland, but we hope the situation is temporary. Jeromy has been actively applying for jobs for the last two weeks, and I am just recently in between jobs. I stuck it out with full-time at the resource center until last Friday, and am currently hopeful about a couple part-time prospects. It was a weird thing to basically co-hire my replacement as counselor, but it made me feel like I was perceived a valuable asset to the agency. Yet LOCATE was my "baby" and it was difficult to pass the torch, so to speak. But I don't regret the decision. In fact, we are waiting on the grant money, but it looks like I will even get to retain a few hours as a contracted employee. I did not anticipate that, and I am very grateful for the possibility of continuing to work there, even if just one day a week.

I'm also looking into substitute teaching in the county. I'm already set up to teach at the local Christian school (although I desperately need to go skirt shopping first!), and next month I plan to take the substitute teacher class for the public school system. If anything, it's a fall-back plan if my other prospect doesn't work out. Yet I think the classroom experience would benefit me, though I'm still leery of taking on a full-time teaching stint. (See reasoning here.)

That "other prospect" mentioned above is a position for a "care coordinator" at an area assisted living facility. 20 hours a week instead of 40, and a 10-minute verses a 25-minute commute - what's not to love? It's basically a researching job to find programs and contacts for individual needs, and a babysitting job to keep resident squabbles to a minimum. Had an interview two days ago and, being it lasted an hour, I'd say that's a good sign it went well! Although I'm trying not to be too hopeful in the event this job is not God's direction.

There is always the variable of moving. If Jeromy gets a job offer somewhere soon, we could be gone within the next couple months. We'd like to be out of Southern Maryland before the blasted hot summer months (a.k.a. February, sarcastic only in part), but we are staying open minded and flexible. Thus, my job hunt. The only two stipulations on location is, for one, a place with a lower cost of living. And second, we'd like to stay out of the South. Nothing against all you super nice Southerners, but you got some heat down there that we're trying to avoid! Unfortunately, most of the jobs in Jeromy's field tend to reside on the coasts. We'd absolutely love to live in Oregon or Washington (especially after our Seattle honeymoon!), but when we start to think about having kids, we want to live relatively close to our families. Yet where do you go between West Virginia and Minnesota except for Indiana or Kentucky? Not that we're opposed to those states, except, like I said, the jobs are primarily on the coasts.

I guess we'll see how things transpire. I feel kind of helpless in this area because a move falls on Jeromy's job, not mine, so all I can do is wait and pray. But I am content to do that.

We love many things about Southern Maryland that will make leaving difficult. Although our church is large we have met and become friends with some great Christian people there. I feel we have gotten to know a lot of people at minimal depth. I think we both have the desire to become part of a smaller church where we can get to know a handful of people at a much greater depth. We don't fault our church, its leaders, or any of our Leonardtown Baptist friends for that. It's just the nature of the bigger church. We don't get to see the same people every Sunday like both Jeromy and I were used to in the churches we attended growing up. Here, we really have to be proactive about getting together with people because it just doesn't happen naturally. And nothing against that, but I think it should happen naturally, because I have experienced that kind of community before. These thoughts wouldn't ever be a reason for leaving a church while we're members, but I think we have learned a lot about congregational unity and accountability while attending here. We know what characteristics we would look for in a church in the future.

For example, our senior pastor just retired this week. Sunday was his last sermon at the church he parented from infancy. Jeromy and I have been members for close to three years now, and neither of us feels we really got to know our pastor. God-blessed preacher and effective communicator, but as a pastor, is it really possible to fully Shepherd over a thousand members and countless attenders? Deacons and associates are great, but they are not biblically called to be Shepherds as pastors are.

When it comes down to it, I think small church is just our preference. Many thrive in a large church. Maybe it is just our personality to gravitate towards smaller crowds and groups. Maybe we just want our pastor to know us beyond our names, occupations, and ministries involved in (if even to that extent). Maybe we're just weary of the greeters coming up to us every other Sunday and asking if this is our first service. I don't know.

I think we have found our place or niche at Leonardtown, but part of us feels there could be more. We are more about relationship than formal program. Big church tends toward programs and committees that emphasizes relationship. But without a chance to get to know our fellow worshipers beyond Sunday School; without the invitation for mutual transparency, our experiences with most programs and committees have lacked relationship. I realize smaller churches don't excel at relationship by default. But I think at least the forum is there. It's what I used to know.

But for the most part, we love our church and the people that continue to touch our lives there. We are trying our best to be proactive. It is one of the reasons I decided to regress to part time, for more availability and flexibility. And, of course, family mental health! :)

I have not posted much of our lives over the past few months. As long and difficult as the summer months seemed, we found little things to enjoy. For one, I got a bicycle. I don't remember the last time I owned a bike. Probably junior high time-frame. Of course, stuff does not satisfy our souls, but it sure offered relief from the heat! When the sun goes down on a July evening, the burning heat goes down with it, but the humidity stays. Often we waited until 8pm to venture outside for a ride around the neighborhood, but even in the stickiness, feeling the wind on my face and neck was so glorious I could have cried. I couldn't believe I had waited this long in my Maryland residence to get a bike. Not only did these evening excursions curb my summer cabin fever, but it took away some of my bitterness towards living in such a tropical climate. (Which, along with that comes the infamous yet ignorant, "God, I don't know about Africa...") I think God had placed the option for blessing in our hands, but we just had to reach outside of our seemingly prison-like condo (and mopey little comfort zone) to find it. I still don't like summer in Southern Maryland and will avoid it at all cost if given the option, but I now know there are ways to cope with just about every situation, enough to enjoy or even *gasp* embrace them.

However, thank the mighty Lord above for air conditioning!

Another blessing I have recently fallen upon is the world of crochet. I tried cross stitching a few months ago but it didn't excite me much, despite my mom's former obsession with the craft. I was all ready to try knitting (and might still like to learn), but I have found a new joy in crocheting. Our missions and evangelism leader had the team over for a potluck meeting a few weeks ago and his wife had some of crochet projects lying around their house. Some of us ladies marveled at the handmade throws on the couch and a crocheted sundress for their little girl. Amy told us God seemed to be pressing on her heart to turn her love of crochet into a little ministry, and a few of us expressed an interest in learning for that expressed purpose. Shortly thereafter we set up a group of ladies to meet at one another's houses to crochet articles for some of the low income families we are ministering to in our area.

I couldn't wait. I went out and bought me some hooks and yarn and the next day I pulled up some how-to videos on youtube.com and learned the basic stitches. It's only been a couple weeks since I learned, but I have already made scarves and hats, and I am so excited to have learned such an enjoyable activity to quiet my heart. I look forward to ways I can use this new skill to minister to others. I love how crochet projects work up quickly so I don't get bogged down and quit. It's easy for a new interest to become an obsession one day and a past hobby the next (neither are a good thing), only to be replaced with a new obsession, etc. Balance in life is so hard, isn't it?

I almost missed my connecting flight out of Atlanta yesterday evening. I failed to verify the gate listed on my ticket after getting off the plane, and barely missed the last call for Minneapolis/St. Paul at the correct gate on the direct opposite side of the airport! Lesson learned! Regardless, I made the flight and met two friendly individuals in the seats next to me. One lady lives in Nicolett, Minnesota which, she said, is close to Mankato. I told her I was planning on visiting my brother in New Ulm, which is also near Mankato, and it turns out she not only works in New Ulm, but she knows my brother's mother-in-law! Such a small world It's neat to connect with people like that. She may have been a Christian; at least, she mentioned her son is a pastor in Florida, which was her previous destination.

The man in between this woman and I was in his mid-40's grew up in Fridley, Minnesota, but was also flying from Florida, where he currently resides. He said his dad just got out of the hospital after an intense blood transfusion, and needed some assistance as he recovered and gained strength. I brought along my hooks and yarn and found that crocheting really makes a long flight seem to make the flight go by quickly. I started making a winter cap. About halfway through the project I decided I would give the hat to the man to give to his dad. I started working my fingers with a new fury and finished just before we landed at MSP airport. Since I could not carry a scissors or pocket knife on the plane I had to bite off the yarn (which is not recommended, by the way), and weaved off the ends just as people started to get up. I told the man, "I made this for your dad. Tell him that someone is praying for him."

I should have also given him a tract, but at least this was a seed planted, however small. I also didn't want to go overboard. A perfect stranger next to you whipping up a hat on the plane and then giving it to you? Kind of weird, if I do say so myself. But I was giddy to give it to him. The gift wasn't in the hat itself, but the joy those couple hours gave me while I made it as well as the prayers that follow. I love those "burden is light" reminder moments. God really wants us to delight in His work. I don't think He is about dumping tasks on us that we will resent and complete begrudgingly. He knows what brings us individual joy, and why wouldn't He want to increase that joy by allowing us to share it with others?

Although, I need to see His hand at work when something is not on my terms or in my schedule. When he nudges me toward something when I don't have time to plan for it and when it was not my idea. Crocheting for two hours on the plane is nothing. Minimal time spent (I was stuck there anyway), inexpensive yarn, and it wasn't any sort of painstaking project (or something I was hoping to keep for myself).

We like things that don't cost us or require much of us. If circumstances were different, would I have still followed that "nudge"? Did the nudge come from myself? What have I given lately that cost me in some great way? Am I a better Christian when I sacrifice more? Do I feel better about myself when I make it a point to be selfless? Do I give out of pride? Do I wait for that pat-on-the-back or that "thank you!" or even just that warm fuzzy on the inside?

Can we analyze things too much instead of simply enjoying something? Ha!

Well, I think my time here at Caribou is just about spent (translation: time for bathroom break!). Time to go out and enjoy the beautiful Fall weather in Minnesota! I can't believe I'm here!

Till hopefully a much sooner next time....

*Oh my! I just saw the town "walker" walk past the window! I don't know his name but he always creeped out my brother and I when we were younger. We always saw him walking no matter where we were and so we just called him "Walker". The guy looks absolutely the same as I remember. He's probably mid-fifties or even sixty by now, but same round face, pixie haircut, pudgy middle, and infamously long strides and arm swings. Within the last quarter century he must have worked at probably every single business in town! I guess he just never owned a car. He still kind of creeps me out when I see him because he's just so out-of-the-ordinary and because I used to be scared when I'd meet him alone on the streets as a teenager, but I know he's just a person that needs Christ like the rest of us. Maybe I'll run (I mean walk) into him once Jeromy gets here.

Down memory lane...or rather, down Hiawatha Avenue

I received an email from Baskin Robbins today. Sometime last year I had signed both my mom and my dad up for free treats on their birthdays. Since my dad never had his own email account I had it forwarded to mine and then I was going to send it to him. Until now I had totally forgotten about the birthday deal.

I was sort of confused when I read the subject line, "A birthday cake offer with your name on it" because my birthday is in August. Then my heart just broke when I opened the email and saw the "Hi Gary, it's only one month until your birthday!" at the top.

My dad would be turning 65 on October 5th.



He absolutely loved cake and ice cream (hence, Baskin Robbins). A half gallon of his favorite New York Vanilla would never last beyond a couple days with him in the house! But who needs birthday fanfare when you are experiencing your salvation firsthand and enjoying freedom from the limitations of human senses. Ice cream - what's that! But the rest of his family (who also possess his frequent craving for all things cold, creamy, and sweet) will just have to enjoy a party treat in honor of, if nothing else, his retirement.

Because, truly, what better place to retire than Heaven!

I can't believe we're coming up on the five-month anniversary of my dad's death. Doesn't seem possible or real. I don't really know how grieving is any different for me now than it was then, but the pain of his loss periodically stings. Most of time I think of him right before bed. My days are busy and guess I really don't have much time to stop and think until I'm under the covers.

The most random times his memory finds its way into my consciousness is actually while I'm on the phone at work! The only explanation for this is that a lot of my phone "spiel" consists of memorized pieces of information, and often I find myself daydreaming when I'm reciting the legal disclaimer or offering a parent a piece of counsel. (I know, not very professional, but I have to repeat this stuff several times a day and it gets tedious.)

A few of these times when I get a flash of my dad's memory I'll start to choke up and my voice begins to waver. It knocks me back to reality and I have to intentionally shake the thought from my head so I can continue with the parent before I break into an outright sob over the phone.

Back at the beginning of February, when I first got the call about my dad's cancer, I was only into the first couple hours of my work day. I prayed the phone would not ring because I was beyond side-tracked at that point. But, of course, it rang. I got about five minutes into the call when I realized I could not handle normal tasks. What?? My dad has cancer and this lady is worried about finding child care?! I think I choked out something to the poor, innocent woman on the other end something to the effect of, "I'm sorry. I can't do this. I just found out my dad has cancer."

Silence.

"Hello?"

Click.

Since the thought of my dad comes to me right before bed, I finally realized that this must be the reason he seems to turn up in most of my dreams. I've had them all. In some of them, he is well, and some of them, he is very ill. And I am always extremely protective of him no matter what. In one dream I had to take care of him in a care center, and after leaving him for just a moment, the nurses told me that he had died. I frantically ran to his room, and when I sat with him a while he came back to life. Or, at least, the nurses were wrong thinking he had died. It was as if I had to be in his presence to sustain him.

The dreams never freak me out. I actually feel sort of comforted to wake up after a dream he is in. As if I just spent some quality time with my dad. But the dreams also evoke a somewhat heavy heart in knowning that he is not here.

At times I look back on my childhood and it seems I hardly even got to know him. He did work long hours and then he of course slept a lot whenever he was home. I don't blame him for that! I can't look back in regret because there is absolutely nothing I could have done differently that would have changed how things transpired. However, the past does provide huge motivation to really invest in the people I care about.



After my dad's memorial service Jeromy and I, and my brother Justin took a drive around Minneapolis to hit up Bridgman's to share a serving my dad's favorite chocolate soda. And that meant the franchise in my dad's childhood neighborhood of Hiawatha Avenue. This made the experience all the more meaningful.
























Things have changed a LOT since the 40's and 50's! Although I had driven these roads hundreds of times, the events of the morning spent sharing stories of my dad's life sparked my imagination. I wondered, as I peered down stucco neighborhood blocks and searched barred storefronts, what it must have been like for him. Back when the crime rate was lower and elementary school boys were allowed to roam the streets carefree. I just wanted one more story. One more chance to hear my dad describing the summer antics of a boy and his friends growing up in South Minneapolis. I wanted to hear his voice and get impatient with the lengthy pauses between some of his words. I wanted him to vicariously go back to that simpler time of his life, days before the responsibility of paying bills and long hours driving a big rig competed for his time and attention.



He loved talking about his childhood. About a month before he died, I braved a cobweb-infested closet at my parents' house where I knew he always kept his shoebox of black-and-white photos from his life. Poor guy never got those photos in an album of any sort, and so most of the photos had long since curled and creased in some spots. I just knew it was now or never.
























We spent a good couple hours a day in that care center pouring through that old, ripped up shoebox. I would hold up a photo and say, "What's this one, Dad?" and he would take it from me, contemplate over it for a moment, and start his story with an enthusiastic, "Oh! That's...." (That's a good Minnesota "Oh" for all you other-staters.)
























Photo after photo, story after story. I cherish the memory of this special time with my dad, just the two of us. My only regret is that I didn't think to tape record these conversations. Dad probably would have been uncomfortable with the idea of being recorded, and I didn't bring it up because I didn't want him to think I thought he was going to die and that I wanted to capture his voice for a keepsake. I wanted him to focus on living each day and not think everyone was preparing for his death...although everyone was, and I'm sure he knew it. But we didn't want to dwell on any of it.
























I did hide one thing from my dad over the course of the shoebox project and his reminiscing. I separated the photos into two piles. One pile to go through again later, and one pile with which to compile for his memorial service slide show. I don't believe he caught on to my task, but honestly, everyone at his memorial service expressed how touching it was to see all those photos, that I knew he wouldn't have minded if he had known what I was doing.
























(Edit: Click on the photos for a larger view. A running joke with my dad was that he looked just like Theodore Cleaver ("The Beave") in many of his childhood photos, especially the one above. My dad liked to do voices, and whenever we would comment about his look-a-like, Dad would always come out with something like, "Oh, but gee, Dad..." or "on account o' Whitey and me...". I'll never forget that.)

I still wish with all my heart that I had taped him because as far as his stories go, I can hardly remember a one. I did, however, write a short description on the back of each photo, very lightly in pencil so as not to show through. I at least wanted to capture the identities of the individuals in each photo. That was my initial intention. The project took longer than I'd thought because I did not realize going through the box would evoke so many stories. There was a story attached to just about every photo, and I could never remember any of them enough to re-tell. And at best, I am a writer, not a storyteller. (And don't even let me try to tell a joke because I will forget the punchline, without fail!)
























Many of these stories reside with my aunt Bev, my dad's sister, but she can't pull out stories from his Navy experiences, except for what he's told her. I may just have to sit down with her someday (with a recorder!) and capture what stories of his I can. Although, I would still miss out on the faraway look in his eye as his mind would travel to the scene of a story. And, of course, when he'd offer his signature "tongue-and-cheek".



*****

Back on the highway after we'd had our fill (and boy, did we fill!), we accidentally missed an exit (oh the horror!) and ended up on an accidental sight-seeing tour of the city. Which made for a shutter-happy afternoon for your viewing pleasure! The next day Jeromy and I needed to catch our flight back to Maryland, and I decided to continue the merriment all the way to the airport. I so love shotgun!

I posted these on Facebook forever ago, but they are new for the blogsphere! I wanted to snap a picture of the house my dad grew up in off of Hiawatha, but I couldn't remember which street it was. I am actually headed back to Minnesota on the 7th of October, anticipating a much more joyous and less draining visit than the previous three have been. And no snow, to boot! (Oh Lord I pray!) You just may see Part 2 of the following slide show in another month or so. I'll try to get a shot of my dad's childhood street and maybe even his house.

So, here is our little adventure around the Minneapolis/St. Paul area:

















who doesn't hold their breath in the Lowry tunnel???

Land of 10,000

Nelsons, that is. I even used to be one.

So how about a FUN post?!?!?! You Minnesotans will really appreciate this one.

I am SO glad it's August and that summer is finally beginning to wind down! Although, it is still mid-to-upper 80's, but the countdown to Autumn has begun! I am definitely not a summer person. Are you kidding? I'm from Minnesota! Where the folks cozy up in ugly sweaters for nine months out of the year and who stash away their shorts (and even capris!) until that tiny three month window of Minnesota Summer. But watch out, if you blink, you might find yourself smack dab in the middle of a blustery blizzard.

I get majorly antsy during the Southern Maryland sweat season. Flip-flop a Southern Maryland summer with a Minnesota winter, and you get reverse cabin fever! It seemed like July would never end. The month of August and the start of school seem to bring tidings of impending heat relief. The dog days of August whispers that cool breezes and falling leaves are on the way!

Seriously, the only thing I desire hot and bubbly comes in a large dish of homemade apple crisp fresh from the oven! Along with a hefty scoop of vanilla ice cream right on top - let's be reasonable!

Shannon just keeps coming up with such fun ways to incorporate blog-reader interaction! (Of course, she wrote that post more than a month ago!) Well, I guess her dad takes the credit for this one, but it inspired me to expand my little comment on her post by further celebrating my home state by posting my response again here.

Well, that and this week kicks off the Minnesota State Fair, and I haven't been in four years. FOUR. SO not right.



So here we go. Though not so much stereotypes, the following comprise a few of my favorite Minnesota culture characteristics, though far from an exhaustive list:

*First of all, Minnesota in the Fall is amazing.

*It is assumed that everyone is born with both the knowledge and the ability to hunt and fish. Not quite. I have never shot anything larger than a BB gun, but I have fished more than a few Minnesota lakes in my day. One of my uncles is an avid ice fisherman, and another owns a fishing resort up north.

*Of course, it IS as cold as they say (and they never cancel school for 20 feet of snow, except for maybe a -75 degree wind chill and I'm not exaggerating), although the summers can get VERY hot and sticky (all the lakes, remember?), so your blood never regulates to the temperature like it does in, say, Florida or I don't know, Iceland.

*March is known as the "snowiest month" but it can snow 10 inches or more in the middle of April. I can attest to this after spending two weeks in Minnesota this past March and getting dumped on Easter Sunday! It was a glorious ride to church (I say that both literally and sarcastically).

*For Minnesotans, it is not uncommon to use the A/C and the heat on the same day. Spring and Fall in Minnesota especially. Cool mornings and evenings, but warm afternoons. You learn to dress in layers.

*And, for the record, "I survived the Halloween Blizzard of '91." (And have all the cavities to prove it!)

*The accent. Although, I am convinced I never developed one or have since lost it (I'm currently living on the East Coast), and I never actually "heard" the Minnesota accent until I moved away and then went back home for a visit. I LOVE hearing it now and miss it terribly.

*A state where you will meet Mary Tyler Moore (well, at least her "house"), Prince, Garrison Keillor, and, if you're lucky, Jesse Ventura. Whom, for the record, I did NOT vote for. But I had a lot of friends who did! It was my first legal election, in fact!

*Another stereotype: everyone is Lutheran. Which is mostly true, except for the diversity in the Cities (Mpls/St.Paul). Actually, there were more Jewish people who attended my school than anything else. (Half the school was absent on Rash Hashanah and whatnot, no lie.) But everyone else is pretty much Lutheran. Except me, I'm Baptist. At least, a Christian who attends a Baptist church.

*Yes, the mosquito is the unofficial Minnesota state bird. They've enjoyed more than their share of my blood! I think by now the mosquito should have moved up to offical state bird, don't you think?

*One thing I noticed even over the last year is that Minnesotans like to say, "you know..." ALL THE TIME! They don't even give it a thought.

*They also always agree with you with the sing-songy, "Yah" instead of "Yeah".

*Minnesotans wear shorts once the temperature hits 45 degree. Come on, HEAT WAVE. (I'm guilty.)

*Our poor Dairy Queen closes most of the year...but that doesn't stop any ice cream lover from breaking out the rocky road in the dead of January!

*SNOW football, 'nuff said.

*Everyone owns a snowmobile and there are always tracks along the ditches of the highways. SO fun!

*Minnesota summers in a nutshell.

*Everybody eats lutefisk. Here's the truth. NOBODY eats lutifisk. My mom loves the stuff though, and enters lutefisk-eating contests just to get free fish soaked in lye! She's a true Norwegian! I'm...just blond.

*Now LEFSA, on the other hand, bring it on with plenty of butter and brown sugar!!! My mom even owns a real lefsa griddle. And a few other Norwegian food appliances as well. Homemade is by far the best; don't buy the store bought cardboard they claim is lefsa.

It's HOTDISH, not casserole.

*Oh, and POP. Not soda. Not Coke. Not soda-pop. I don't care if we are MinneSOTA. And I never even tried sweet tea until I was 25 years old! (I can hear a collective, "Poor thing..." Eh. I think maybe I had to grow up with it to like it.)

*Not y'all. It's, you GUYS. Regardless of gender or age.

*Duck Duck GRAY DUCK, not Duck Duck Goose. (And yes, that one is weird, but I'm sticking with it.)

*The "Great Minnesota Get Together". You never knew you could eat, walk, spend, and sweat so much!

*Hair conditioner is a MUST in the winter. Fly-away hair is a given. All you curly Sue's would appreciate a Minnesota winter just for that. No frizzy. Mine just goes flat and permanently adheres to my face and chin.

*Minnesotans don't always appreciate the long, cold winters (although many of them do), but they find plenty of ways to make it fun. For example, the downtown Holidazzle Parade and the Winter Carnival with the awesome ice palace. Just bring plenty of hot chocolate!

*Everybody (except my family) owns a cabin up north. You know, I was SO deprived, you guys!

*My relatives actually say, "Uff-Da!" and mean it. My grandma especially. She also says "davenport" for couch and "oodles" for lots. LOVE her.

*Finally, this link, in honor of my dad (who never even turned on a computer in his life).

Now, if you're bored, take this quiz.

*****

One more spring in Minnesota,
To come upon Lake Wobegon.
Old town I smell your coffee.
If I could see you one more time --

I can't stay, you know, I left so long ago,
I'm just a stranger with memories of people I knew here.
We stand around, looking at the ground.
You're the stories I've told for years and years.

That yard, the tree -- you climbed it once with me,
And we talked of cities that we'd live in someday.
I left, old friend, and now I'm back again,
Please say you missed me since I went away.

One more time that dance together,
Just you and I now, don't be shy.
This time I know I'd hear the music
If I could hold you one more time.

- Garrison Keillor

This takes "comfy pair" to a whole new level.

So, if all the post-baby women-folk out there love these types of jeans to death and even confess to wearing them like regular jeans, why doesn't the design world take note and make them also for the pre-baby women-folk like me!

Maybe make the panel a little shorter and less noticeable though.

But come on, what woman doesn't use all her might in the dressing room to stretch out a pair of jeans before purchasing them? (I don't work out for nothing, you know.) Or am I just the only one who struggles with small-waist-big-leg-syndrome? These jeans are the cure-all!!! Why do I continue to live in the land of button flies and zippers when I could be attending Jeans Friday feeling like I'm lounging in my sweats?! Why suffer this present torture with such elastical options available?!

Especially during that one pesky little week. You know the one.

It's time to shop outside the belt loop!

You guys are seriously tempting me to stop by the nearest Old Navy or Kohls at once to meander through the maternity section. A married girl's gotta be prepared for the future, right? Plus, I think I need to break them in before they become necessity. Or even wear them completely out so to have an excuse for buying another pair (or two) later on, when it really counts. Sound like a good enough strategy to bump up the clothing budget?

And really, they would totally make jeans shopping (not to mention bathroom break) far less stressful, don't you think?

You know it!

And this is all I'm going to say about that.

As giddy as a school-supply-shopping 4th grader!

So the envelope method works. But with flaws. Not only are they flimsy, clumsy, and prone to major coupon-spillage, but they are sort-of old school. I can no longer call myself a frugal "newbie". It's about time I upgraded my coupon organization method.

I needed an all-in-one tote with easy access and enough slots for my growing number of categories.

Well, and something stylish. I mean, I don't want to actually look like a coupon shopper, how lame is that? And especially in the presence of hard-core competition. So I also needed discrete.

And if you want to know the truth, losing 20 envelopes containing 8+ insert weeks worth of painstaking Sunday afternoon cutting, sorting, and filing is enough to motivate any cheapskate to reassess and hone her coupon organization skills!

Yeah, I wanted to CRY. I left them in the paper towel isle in, of all places, CVS! The utmost capitol of coupon competition! I couldn't believe it.

I can just imagine the squeal of glee bursting from the lips of some red-eyed ECB-clutching mad woman who, while scouring shelves for the insane Viva deal, stumbled upon the said pot of gold.

Well....you can have it, lady! I hope you enjoy your good steals - I mean deals!!!

Losers weepers, I guess. The incident is already an entire month behind me. I have almost completely recovered. Although, it's still painful to walk through the paper towel isle without shedding a couple crocs.



It was time to ditch the slippery envelope system.




So then I was wandering around Staples one day, and this be-U-tiful blue and yellow file carrier jumped right into my cart and begged me to take it home. And WITH A HANDLE!!!!!!

I mean, relentless. What was I to do but relent?




And here it is.




Perfect.

Oh, and don't you go thinking anything is "up" just because yes, I have a category slot for diapers. I'm serious. You'll be the first to know. Or at least the third or fourth, depending on the circumstances. :)




Not too professional of a job with my category labels, but hey, it works for me. (I suppose now I'll have to participate in Shannon's WFMW this week. First time.)

I must admit that I still use envelopes for my "food" categories. I had to double up each section as it was. If any of you have a suggestion on how to organize my food coups (all 14 envelopes worth), I'd love some suggestions. My tote has more than maximized its category capacity (or CC - we could come up with all sorts of frugal lingo!). Granted, it's not as difficult hauling around 14 versus 45 envelopes, at least without them either slipping through the grocery cart cracks or spilling all over the sticky produce floor (this is WalMart, people), I suppose I just need something less white and without flaps.

Plus, I'm quickly approaching a crisis. My "freezer isle" category desperately needs expanding, and that could easily mean 4 or 5 more categories! I'm not super keen on shelling out another $10 for an additional tote (I am trying to save money, after all), but there's got to be a better way.




You know, coupons are to deal lovers as baseball cards are to little boys.