This totally reveals how often (or not so often) I've been posting lately! I had been kicking myself thoroughly for not waiting until this week to submit my week 1 photo entry for I Heart Faces. This week's theme is "Joy", and if this is not joy, I don't know what is!
Kicking myself...until I remembered this shot of Preston I took this Fall!
Check it out - his shirt reads, "MY MOM KICKS HARDER THAN YOUR MOM". Love it!
J-O-Y!
My amazing cousin Jason and his wife Janelle are parents to him and his five siblings. They have one biological child and five foster, including Preston, all of whom they plan to adopt this year!
Please pray for them, as they recently faced some bumps along the road in their journey to adopt one of the children. God couldn't have been more gracious to Preston and his brothers and sisters than to choose this godly, loving young couple to parent these sweet kids!
Also pray that God might provide a new ministry for Jason as he serves the Lord and financially provides for his family. And soon, as funds to salary him have run out in his present ministry. Because the adoptions are not final, the family must remain either within the state or the county, which limits their options. But they are confident (we are too!) that God knows their situation and will continue to bless and guide them!
Don't let the sweet face fool you. This busy little girl will keep you on your toes knees! I lived with Samantha's family when I first moved to Southern Maryland in 2005. If each week I kept her from danger and prevented her from burning the house down, I got paid. She's now four years old and I cannot believe it!
IHeartFaces is hosting a photo contest, and here is my entry for the Kids Category!
One of my very favorite classes in high school was Current Events with Mr. McLean. My parents didn't get a computer until I went off to college, so in 11th grade, TV was pretty much my only source of media.
This is one paper I wrote in Current Events class. The first sentence tells me we were to write about the news happenings we best remembered while growing up. Of course, this was pre-9-11 which, I'm sure, makes the top of the list on all of McLean's present students' papers.
I love reading through old pieces of writing. You can hear my blogging voice even then!
***
Many historical events have taken place during my lifetime, though a lot of them had little impact on me, the ones that happened when I was really little.
I do remember in 1990 and 1991, I was in fourth grade and Desert Storm was in full swing. We'd sit there in class and have group discussions about the Gulf War specifically, but also just about war in general. We hadn't experienced or heard much about it, maybe a few stories of exaggerated heroism by our grandfathers in WWII, but that's all they were to us - stories. Something we might read in a book or in movies we would watch. But while sitting in that fourth grade classroom, writing letters of encouragement to soldiers we didn't know, and collecting packets of Kool-Aid to improve the taste of the water there, it suddenly became clear to us students what war meant.
I know I must have watched actual live coverage on the whole thing quite a bit, but the only day I remember watching actual fighting was a cloudy Sunday afternoon in January. I keep thinking it was right around New Years, maybe New Years Day or the day after, I'm not sure. I remember sitting in front of the TV with my family and seeing these people with the funny looking gas masks on. The newscaster would interview random soldiers, and though it seemed to be in the middle of the night there, you could see the sky light up tremendously in the background. It would look plain as day for two seconds, get dark for a brief moment, and then be replaced once again with streaks of light. The people had to yell when they spoke, and at certain points they seemed to almost be in a state of panic. I'll never forget that picture.
The reason I remember that specific day so well is because of what I was doing when I was watching it. I was lying on my stomach with a pencil and several pieces of paper. I drew a picture of four children, two girls and two boys - one African American, one Native American, one Asian, and one American. I drew them all playing together, and I even wrote a short story about each one to go along with the picture. Even at ten years old, the difference between war and peace were obviously becoming real to me. And only now has it made me realize the significance of me drawing and writing what I did. I never could figure out why that day stuck out in my mind before.
Of course, Desert storm didn't have as much an impact on me as it would if the fighting were over here - we also knew that we would win the war. But, like you said, unlike previous wars, we had total television coverage of it from start to finish, and we could transport ourselves to the Middle East with a click of the remote.
Well, now that I've written my required number of pages, I think I'll end now - just kidding. I'll try to briefly tell about the other events that stick out in my mind.
(Add: The above is so classic me! I actually wrote that in my paper!)
Just a year before Desert Storm the Berlin Wall came down. Now, this was one event that I had more background on then the Gulf War. That's because in 1985 my mom, grandma, and uncles all took a trip to Germany to visit some relatives in East Berlin. Of course they went into the city to snap pictures of the dividing Wall. When they returned I remember my mom telling me why they'd put it up in the first place. I thought it was cool to see all the German writing and painting on the wall! So of course we were watching the news when they tore it down a couple years later.
Thinking about it now surprises me that I understood the tragedy the Wall brought the city. I even remember seeing everyone crying as they were finally reunited with their families, some men who had never before seen their small children.
Then one day in third grade one of our relatives from Norway, who had been to Germany, came to visit the US for a few weeks. My parents thought it would be a good idea if Guro came to Aquila [Primary] School to talk to my class about what it's like to live in Norway. She also talked about the Berlin Wall, since she had just been to Germany. She even brought a real piece of the Wall for us to look at and touch. The piece was about the size of a fist and there was definite signs of graffiti on it. I remember feeling lucky that my class and I got a chance to hold a piece of history in our hands, one we had only seen on television. It made the whole event even more real to us.
Another event I recall is the kidnapping of Jacob Wetterling. It happened during the same year as the fall of the Berlin Wall, but I think it impacted me even more. At school, everyone was making a big deal about it. We had many, many discussions about the event, and teachers were pushing the whole safety issue. They let us know that it very well could have been any one of us - Jacob was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Also everyone was concerned because Jacob was only two years older than us. We talked about what we can do to make sure that never happens to one of us. We discussed the mistakes Jacob made that caused him to be vulnerable to the harmful situation. I don't think I need to say that I learned a lot that year!
(Add: Over the couple of years that followed Jacob's kidnapping, I'd be at Target or somewhere with my parents and imagine that Jacob was hiding from his kidnapper in the store. I'd find him and he would be returned to his parents. Today, Jacob would be 30 years old, and although his parents rightly keep up hope of his survival, it's probably pretty unlikely. Some say his kidnapper took him to Mexico where he became part of a child trafficking operation. yet who knows what actually happened?)
You're probably wondering about how the Challenger explosion impacted me. For some reason, I really don't remember watching anything about it or hearing about it at school, although I do recall an old Punky Brewster episode that focused on the Challenger in detail.
I thought I'd leave the more recent events alone, except that I will comment on one thing from last summer. I found myself getting to watch the news quite a bit then, and I really got into and followed the whole Andrew Cunanan murders. In July it probably caught my eye since it started out here in Minnesota. It really surprised me when I heard that he ended up in Florida. After the Versacci murder I was into the story again. I wanted to see what would happen next, like so many when they watched the O.J. trial and now with the Clinton allegations. of course, i didn't want Cunanan to kill anyone else, but I wanted to know if he killed the fashion designer as well as the others here in Minnesota. I couldn't wait to find out if he would be caught and, if so, what would he say about it all? Like so many others I asked why?
I was kind of disappointed when it ended like it did, though I was glad he wouldn't get a chance to kill anymore. I was just fascinated with the story of it, and I wanted to know how someone could be as cunning and aggressive as that. It was certainly the murder mystery of the year!
(Add: Still creeps me out to think about it!)
I spoke briefly to my parents about significant events in their lives, and my mom mentioned the Kennedy assassination. She was getting ready for school that day and heard the bulletin on the news. I don't think she ended up making it to school. They must have canceled it for the rest of the week or so.
My dad talked about the years between 1964 and 1966. The sudden attitude changes during that time impacted him, in that he couldn't believe how fast so many things took place.
He said that the breakdown of the home was one of the things that triggered these changes. Rock and Roll was popular by then, Kennedy had just been killed, and the First Amendment of the Constitution concerning education had been altered. Kids were beginning to rebel and family morals no longer worth talking about. The Civil Rights Movement and Vietnam intensified this new attitude, which just caused even more protesting, demonstration, and draft card burning. These events were happening so suddenly that all anyone knew to do was avoid everything and try to get their own way.
Take, for example, those who were born in 1947. In 1964, when they turned seventeen, everything war was very new to them. Up until that point they had never lived to see anything but peace. This caused many rebellious feelings once they received draft cards. It was like that with many people at that time.
Along with all these other new ideas like Rock and Roll and the Civil Rights Movement, one was bound to have different opinions. They expressed them forcefully and violently, which seemed to happen out of the blue. My dad feels that these three years showed the quickest and most significant changes in his lifetime.
So I guess this is my [unofficial] 100th post! And you all know what that means...
Welcome to my 100 Things post! (Oh dear, what am I getting myself into?)
And to top it off, Amanda of Mandigirl Muses who, by the way, is one of my all-time favorite bloggers (maybe it's partly because you're so, I don't know...honest? and because you really carried me into Blogger!) has offered Think Out Loud its first award, which is called the Honest Scrap Award! What better timing than my 100th post?!
No award comes without its bloggiful duties. The recipient of the Honest Scrap must offer her readers 10 honest things about herself. Yet since this whole 100th post thing only happens once in a blog-life, I'm not going to use the Award as an excuse to list just the required 10. I will include at least 10 good, honest items about myself to fit the award requirement, but the rest will just be random things that come to mind. I will do my best to state things I have yet to mention on my blog (which means you need to go read the previous 99 first - j/k!).
It sounds easy to come up with 100 tidbits, quirks, experiences, traits, preferences, etc. about oneself, but it's not. You get to about #36 and think for sure you've bypassed #60. And from there you just start making stuff up, listing what you ate for breakfast everyday this week, or begin offering TMI, such as to say you shave your armpits every five days (which I do, btw). And for the final 10 you'll state reasons why this will be you're last blog ever. Reader, beware!
So! Let the fun begin! (Seriously, that "You're So Vain" song totally popped into my head at this moment.)
1. I have been wearing a lot of black shirts/sweaters lately. I'm not really sure why. It's just an easy match.
2. My favorite perfume in the whole world is Estee Lauder Pleasures. A woman whose children I used to nanny would come downstairs every morning wafting the scent throughout the kitchen while I'd be getting breakfast ready for the boys. I had to buy it. And it wasn't one of those times where you admire perfume on someone else but it ends up smelling horrible on yourself. It's absolutely lovely.
3. My sinuses are mildly allergic to perfume. Oh, how ironic! I can only wear one half of a squirt on the back of my neck.
4. I get claustrophobic if I'm underwater for a long period of time. I'll jump off the high dive, but not head first or one of those "pencil" dives. Although I still love pools and surface swimming. But funny how things that didn't used to scare you as a carefree child terrify you as an adult. Roller coasters, skiing, and trampoline flips, same thing.
6. As a treat, my mom used to toss my brother and I a handful of mini marshmallows, and we'd scramble to the living room floor picking them up. Not exactly the healthiest of snacks and a sort of unusual feeding method, but a fun novelty I remember from childhood.
7. I've been to the Bahamas. But it was the end of November and chilly. And tragically void of romance.
8. I have this horrible habit of shopping at Wal-Mart just after a work out. That is, in my workout clothes and sweaty, stinky self. It's bad when you can smell yourself and feel like puking. But those poor shoppers. That's right - get outa my way! I can't stand Wal-Mart but I shop there anyway. It's just a sacrifice a frugal has to make.
9. I loved going to church camp as a child. And counseling too!
10. I miss the freaky thunderstorms we got back home.
11. I was stalked for three summers during college. Literally the scariest time of my life!
12. It's settled. God did not install the the multi-tasker gene when he made me. "Oh, and by the way's" completely overwhelm me. I get distracted easily and it's so frustrating! Give me a list.
13. I worked at an indie coffee shop called Brewing Grounds for two months. Loved learning how to make espresso. And I have to say, I prided myself in frothing perfect foam. Yet those two months have ruined me forever. No one can live up to my standard. Hear me: If foam has been made correctly, you should not be able to actually see the bubbles.
14. I refuse to tip a barista, although that has absolutely nothing to do with my stint as one. As much as I love lattes at Fourbucks.
15. I love to play word games like Scrabble, Reader's Digest's Word Power, Balderdash, Scattergories - all of it. Let's play! I once beat my English teacher grandmother at Word Power, and boy, is that a feat!
16. This is fun!
17. I have a hard time maintaining close friendships and I don't know why. (This is as raw and honest as you're gonna get!) Still, I have no trouble making friends. But they remain at arms length. Ugh.
18. My dream job (or so I naively think) is to work - in any sort of capacity - at a news or radio station! (Just not the late night shift.)
19. At age 3 I cut my left index finger off a few centimeters from the tip. I guess I wanted to see what would happen if I stuck my finger in the grate at the top of the mall escalator. Until it got stuck and ripped. (Mmmm, hope you're not eating!) I yanked it out and my fingertip was dangling by a thread of skin. I walked over to my mom (who is excellent at supervising her children!) and said, "Mommy, lookit." She said, "Oh, my!!!" and all I remember is some dude scooped me up and wrapped new white towels from the shelves at Montgomery Wards. I vaguely recall the ambulance ride, but I remember trying desperately to push away the doctor's hands as he tried to administer anesthesia to my finger and sew it up. My finger still bears the scar and sits slightly crooked.
21. I got to sit in on a PGM "Unshackled" live recording and met announcer Bob O'Donnell and organist Ralph Colburn. Neat experience you don't want to miss if you visit Chicago.
22. I saved a butter container full of agates my friend Jamila and I collected over the span of our childhood years. They were our jewels. Our treasure. We fought sometimes violently over them. "No, I found it first! It's mine!"
23. I'm realizing that adults still possess the same bad attitudes as children. They just hide them behind pride. I work with people at Social Services. The only difference between them and more stable/responsible individuals is that they don't care a lick what people think of them. We do. (We just blog about it.)
24. I always leave a CVS drugstore with sweaty armpits. (I try to give back.)
25. I am stoked about starting up Women's Bible Study again this month with Beth Moore's "Esther"!!!
26. My husband's hands are the same length as mine, except that his fingers are twice as fat! :)
27. Which reminds me of the time he broke my ring finger two months after our wedding! I had to replace my lovely diamond with a bulky metal brace for weeks! (FYI: Never try to catch a football that's filled with too much air. Or switch to Nerf altogether.)
28. I like reading maps. (Ask Jeromy.) I think the dreamer in me gets to imagine visiting different places of the country/world. Note: If you are single and love to travel, become a short-term au pair. You can literally open up a mappage, point to a city and say, "I want to live there." And you will find a job!
29. I have received two speeding tickets in my driving life.
30. I haven't skied since my "bum knee" trampoline accident and surgery in 1999. I'm almost afraid to. But in the meantime, let's go tubing!
35. I don't own more than three or four pieces of jewelry. I wear a simple necklace until it wears out.
36. I just learned how to pan-sear meat.
37. I "became a woman" on my actual thirteenth birthday. And of all things, I wanted a pool party! I thought the cramps were just butterflies due to excited anticipation. Ha!
38. I will always be a city girl at heart.
39. I don't like the texture of onions.
40. I still own a few mix tapes I made in high school. Tapes.
44. I am anal about washing floors and dusting. Oh, and staying on top of laundry.
45. I was a waitress for one year at Bakers' Square. Not for me. It required too much multitasking! I visited with guests too long so while I made good tips, I could never handle very many tables at a time. Good experience, though.
46. I fell on a beehive when I was four and received over 100 yellow jacket stings. My cousin and I were climbing a tree and I fell off a limb, smashing the nest. They were mad! Good thing neither of us was allergic, and that my cousin's older brother, who is deathly allergic, was in school at the time.
47. I floss and rinse every night. And despite my rigid discipline, still get cavities.
48. I ate my first sweet potato in 2005. And I love them.
49. My husband and I watch Nanny 911 together. Maybe if we expect the worst, parenting will seem a breeze! (haha, yeah right!)
50. My slow cooker is my friend.
51. We had to wear skirts or dresses in college (and although that wasn't my most favorite rule on campus, Pillsbury shut its doors just last week, after 51 years of equipping young adult Christians.) I own a few sundresses, but I think I have just two of the floor-length skirts left, which I still wear from those four years. (They say "freshman 15" on the butt.) And if Clinton or Stacy ever caught me walking down the street in one of them, I'd be handed a $5000 Visa card.
52. I either wanted to be best friends with Punky Brewster, or I wanted to be her! As a little girl I would have done anything to meet Soliel Moon Frye. I remember when she went on Double Dare as a contestant and after the show shook hands with the kids in the audience. I wanted to be there so bad!
53. Unless at the gym, I usually wear some form of clog. Even in the winter. I'm not a shoe queen by any stretch. It's all about comfy.
54. I wish all my family and friends had a Facebook. It's just so stinkin' convenient.
55. I wish it could be Fall all year long. Semi-warm days and cool nights.
56. I never believed in Santa, although I wanted to.
57. My first real babysitting job was when I was eleven. And for a 6 month old baby named Alyssa. I thought it was the best day of my life.
58. I can't relax amid clutter.
59. I love reading aloud to children.
60. Biggest pet peeve ever: drivers who choose not to signal. (Try living in DC!!!)
61. I have the cutest baby niece in the world named Scarlett!
62. I own a pink cell phone.
63. My favorite lattes are Lite White Berry at Caribou and White Mocha at Starbucks.
66. I don't really like tea. Wasn't raised with it.
67. I made lefsa for the first time this year.
68. I typically fall asleep halfway through a movie. It doesn't matter what movie. I even fell asleep watching Prince Caspian in the theater!
69. My hands and feet are usually 10 degrees colder than the rest of my body. Jeromy refers to these appendages as "ice picks".
70. I rarely get sick. (What's the Christian version of "knock on wood"?)
71. I acquired a new love of pistachios this year.
72. I sold wrapping paper for a school fundraiser to an old local news anchor back home, Bud Kraehling. I was so tickled!
73. I don't particularly like savory sweet, such as fruited pork.
74. I wish I could spend more time with my brother's family.
75. Sometimes I miss the pre-gadget 80's. (But you can keep the tunes!)
76. I never dated in high school. (PTL!)
77. I hate to run but I do it anyway.
78. My favorite Disney movie is Aladdin. (Everybody sing it with me, "I can show you the world; shining, shimmering, splendor...")
79. I stand at 5'6 and weigh 144.8 lbs. (I rarely step on a scale but was just curious this morning.)
80. I am sort of afraid of dogs. Well, at least dogs I don't know. It's usually a case of the growl being worse than the bite.
81. We turn off the heat at night during the cooler months. And with our heavy comforter, we don't need it! This is the first winter we've done this, and it's fun to see how much $ we've saved each month!
82. I've never received a french manicure. And my last regular manicure was the day before my wedding. And first pedicure at that! But so nice.
82. I'm contemplating taking a course in transcription.
83. My cousin Sarah is married to Chris Sligh, the frizzy-haired finalist from last year's season of American Idol. What a ride this has been for them! (See video at the end.)
84. I'm still using shampoo I "bought" almost a year ago. And toothpaste. And body wash. And makeup. And.... Thank you, CVS!!!
85. I can't stand feeling overheated after a shower. I always blow dry my hair while standing under the ceiling fan.
86. I will never - I repeat - never lie in a tanning bed again. It was my dirty habit during high school and college, but after that last burn (from new bulbs they forgot to tell me about!) and after seeing my aunt's skin cancer scars, I really mean it this time. Blond hair, blue eyes...yeah.
87. I love fresh water fish but am not a fan of shellfish and other bottom dwellers. I'll eat a crab or two, but please pass the burgers!
88. I remember obscure, random facts and events (my brother does too), but I fail horribly at Trivial Pursuit.
89. I would wear my pajamas all day if I could. (I didn't shower until 4pm yesterday, if that counts.) For the comfort and productivity it provides. I actually used to be the opposite and love to dress up. Marriage does weird things to a person.
94. I look up to father and grandfather figures in my life. Probably because I never knew my own grandfathers (it was always "Mom's dad" or "Dad's dad") and because my father worked so much. I always hope these figures don't think I'm weird.
95. I started writing stories when I was nine. Maybe I will share one soon.
96. I always choose the ooey-gooey middle-cut brownie, while my husband loves the corner.
97. I was an AWANA clubber from Cubbies up though JV and then worked as a leader throughout high school and college. Youth on the march!!!
98. I never considered Brad Pitt good looking. Still don't.
99. I got my first prescription for glasses this year, but I hardly wear them, though I should.
100. I love meeting people through Blogger and wish I blogged more.
And now I must nominate at least 5 other bloggers to receive the coveted Honest Scrap Award. Remember, each taggee is supposed to post the award picture on his/her blog, followed by a list of 10 - just 10 - honest things about themselves (I only listed 100 because of my 100th post). That's it!
My dilemma is determining at leas 5 bloggers who read my blog on a semi-regular basis! Well I'll tag and see what happens!
Considered yourself tagged (I highly recommend these blogs, btw):
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.
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!
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?
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.
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.
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.
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???
