The View from the Porch

Old Nameless Motorcycle Philosopher

2011-12-24T03:55:00.000-08:00

Today's post is a guest blog. Although the writer doesn't KNOW that he's filling in today. Its just that I could not say anything better on Christmas Eve than this Christmas card greeting.

Is there anything cuter than a two-year-child? On the cover is our little 2-year-old granddaughter, Ella Mae. (Tom & Molly's little girl)
We are showing her because two-year-olds are just so darned cute. The other grandchildren are beautiful, high-achieving, well-mannered young people - and we love them dearly. But... they aren't two years old! (Although they were at one time.)
Accompanying this blue-eyed little darling is our new 6-month old kitty, named "Noodle." Patty calls him a "middle school" cat. (I wonder where she picked up that phrase?) He is called Noodle because at any given time he can become limp - as a noodle. He's playful - at times he's mischievous...but he's always loving. There are few things as relaxing as sitting back in your recliner, a fire in the fireplace, and a sleeping kitty purring on your lap.
Dr. Knutson had to put down our old 20 pound Josie because of a brain tumor. We found ourselves at the animal shelter a few days later and came home with Noodle.
I said to Patty on the way home, "Our old cat has just been gone just a few days and you already have a new cat." Jokingly I added, "If something happened to me, I bet you would take up with a new man right away!"
Patty casually replied, "Would people think it tacky if I brought him to the funeral?"
BAM! What a comeback! I wouldn't have it any other way. It's a wonderful life with a wonderful wife. We are blessed with a lovely family, good friends, few worries, and lots of love and laughter.
As an old nameless motorcycle philosopher once said, "Don't let a few bugs hitting your windshield spoil an otherwise wonderful ride." Take time to savor each and every precious moment on this big, beautiful blue marble in space. Try not to let the little stuff get you down.

The Old Nameless Motorcycle Philosopher just happens to be my Dad.

A Cold Evening Walk

2011-12-17T20:07:00.000-08:00

Tonight's view from the porch is a clear, starlit night. After dinner, I decided to take a walk. It wasn't too cold tonight, but I did walk briskly. It isn't often that it is not bitterly cold or too icy to walk around in the evening and enjoy the lights. Homes were glowing with Christmas lights inside and out. My walk takes me to the edge of town and I think Mother Nature's twinkling stars were as beautiful as any display I passed. It was quiet and I was ready for quiet after a very productive day of housework and holiday-work.

The week did not end the way I expected and some alone time for reflection was in order.

Since August, I've been helping to coordinate an evening meal for friends whose baby girl was in the NICU in Iowa City. She passed away earlier this week and I was honored to attend services for her yesterday. There's just no easy way through that. The pastor was amazing and said so many beautiful things when I wondered what one could say that would make any sense at all. I have never cried so deeply for someone I had never met.

One of the things that the pastor said was that this tiny little girl changed all our lives. And that is true. I will never again take for granted the power of a hot homemade meal delivered home in time for dinner. And it really wasn't just about sharing dinner, it was about giving a family a gift of time. Even in my own family's schedule, there are nights when its a challenge at the end of the day to come up with a meal. For our friends, bringing dinner a few nights a week gave them time to be together rather than grocery shopping and cooking.

I hugged my kids a little tighter last night, held them a little closer.
And I prayed for peace, and comfort, and healing.

Remembering

2011-12-03T05:55:00.001-08:00

Today's view from the porch is a sky that looks like a gray wool blanket. No snow in those clouds here, but plenty of rain. Two words that do not go well together in Iowa are 'December' and 'rain.' It is a day to be grateful for a warm house and a pantry stocked for holiday baking.
A hot cup of coffee, Windham Hill's "Celtic Christmas," and a stack of recipe cards are presenting a day in touch with dear memories. Grandma Pearl's old aluminum measuring spoons, cookie press, and cutters at the ready. Recipes from Eugenia Johnson - my children's paternal great-grandmother who immigrated to the US from Sweden in the 1920's. Marian Sellergren's spritz recipe. Grandma's sugar cookie cutouts, with a hint of nutmeg... The house will smell wonderful very soon.
This week has been a bit of a challenge. Emily is recovering well from her long illness and is much improved over last week at this time and I am relieved that she is back on track. Last night, we played "Let's Dance" on the wii and Emily was dancing away, hair flying, arms in the air... She's a dancer that girl. It doesn't matter the music, if it moves her spirit, it will move her body. It was wonderful to watch her so uninhibited and with the energy to dance. It's been weeks since she's had the energy to get out of bed, let alone dance. It made me very happy to dance with her and to soak in her excitement.
This week, friends and acquaintances have struggled with death and loss. For some it has just happened, others are having their first birthdays or holidays without a parent. Broken hearts, whether recent or many years ago, seem to be laid wide open in December. A time filled with remembering, with doing things the way they have been done for years. The familiar music, ornaments for the tree, and simple things like cookie recipes put us in touch with those memories and the flood of emotions they bring.
December can be a melancholy time for many of us. We may find ourselves swinging between the joy of the season and reflective of Decembers gone by. In the midst of it all, recognize that it is not only normal to experience sadness and loss right now, it really is best to feel those emotions and not fight them. Honor them. Open up to feel it all, both sorrow and delight. For without allowing yourself to feel the sadness, you really will not feel the full impact of joy.
Time to warm up the oven, the house, and my heart with the simple acts of making bread and cookies. After the bites, licks, and tastes, I'll be ready to dance with my daughter again.

Thanksgiving in Quarantine

2011-11-25T04:50:00.001-08:00

It's Thanksgiving weekend.... and it couldn't come at a better time. My 10 year old baby has influenza, a "novel strain" it seems and this is day 10 of low grade fever, aches, fatigue, loss of appetite, and a persistent cough. My house smells of lysol and I've laundered linens and slept in my living room to give her my bed most nights.
John Lennon wrote lyrics to this effect, "Life happens when you are busy making other plans..." The unwelcome virus visitor postponed our weekend plans to host our welcome visitors, the grandparents from the Great White North. But we managed to make the best of it anyway. While Emily slept, John and I did our own turkey trot for a couple of miles on an unusually mild Thanksgiving Day in Iowa. And never in 47 years have I ever sat down to a Thanksgiving dinner just for two. It was wonderfully unique, relaxed and a mix of nice table with a measuring cup for a gravy boat because I couldn't find a real one as easily. "When I was his age..." that would not have happened AT ALL. Nor would we have taken 50 minutes to sculpt Kinnick Stadium out of mashed potatoes. Nor would a Beatles greatest hits cd be the background music or us in jeans and t-shirts...
"Thanks for all you did to make it a fun holiday, Mom," said my 13 year old at the end of the night.
Sweeter than pecan pie.

Simple Gifts

2011-11-19T03:38:00.001-08:00

It's been a few weeks since I've written...so much going on. This week's view from the porch is my yard full of fallen leaves that need to be dealt with before my neighbor guys Richard, Marv, and Joe perform an intervention. However, it's the inside of the nest that has required my attention and time lately.
I'm "nesting" these days. Fighting the good fight against the onslaught of clutter that is a daily battle.
I'm also preparing to cook my first Thanksgiving dinner. Yes, at 47. It is about time.
I've been seduced by pumpkin spice coffee and reading Facebook updates of my friends who are doing a daily gratitude journal. We share many of the same sentiments - except I am noticing the growing number of classmates who are grateful for their grandbabies. I'm a middle school mom and I do have moments of disbelief when I see those darling kids. I'm not there yet and when I am, they will coo over mine as I am now cooing over theirs.
I'm grateful for my two amazing children who fill my days with life. I am grateful for simple things like clean drinking water right from the faucet, a warm and safe home for my family, and money to feed them well.
And a clean place to use the loo... Did you know it is International Toilet Day? And for good reason. Sanitation is a huge public health issue around the world. (NPR Science Friday...home with a sick girl yesterday.)
This year, I am most grateful for relationships. I am so fortunate to have an incredible network of friends and family that support me and my kids in so many ways. And I hope that I can be at least as good a friend to them.
I've learned an important lesson in the past year. It is ok to ask for and accept help. That's a hard one for many of us, I suspect. And I have been able to offer help to others this year. New friendships have developed and long standing ones have been strengthened. When we ask for help, we allow others to give help, a tremendous gift for everyone involved.
Between shopping for the upcoming holiday, knitting away at L.Doone pillow cushions, combatting clutter, putting the finishing touches on tomorrow's Sunday School lesson, listening to Hawkeye football, I will be holding those relationships closely. And giving thanks.

With many happy returns...

2011-10-29T06:58:00.000-07:00

This week's view from the porch is pretty amazing.
I've gone to three birthday parties in the past 10 days. I don't think that's ever happened before.
One was a pizza party at a local restaurant hosted by the man with the birthday who turned 58 and whom I have always had a secret crush since I first met him years ago. More than two years ago, he had a stroke and we did not know if he would even make it. The stroke impaired him in many ways and communication is one of them. With great focus and determination, he ordered the meal for the entire table and was a perfect host in every way. What a celebration of life and of the immense work he has done to be up and out of his wheelchair and to regain everything he can. He's just super and I am proud to know him.
I went to a 50th birthday party this week and it was classy, relaxed, and the way to celebrate 50 years. It was fun to go to a party, talk with friends I haven't had a chance to really catch up with for awhile and feel like a grown up instead of just a parent.
And then last night, I went to a celebration of women. My dear friend has a birthday today and we celebrated the last day of her 70th year and the women in her life during this past year. I was very honored to be invited and as she predicted, the energy in the room was strong and evident. Eight women with roots from all over the world now living in Grinnell. Educators, nurses, social workers, musician, artists, clergy, mothers and about-to-be a mother, grandmothers, writers, sisters, lovers, and friends - and only nine of us around the table. The wisdom of generations of women. We enjoyed wine, music, baseball and an incredible meal that felt like Christmas...
Life is good, as they say.
Today I am reflecting on these three gatherings, the people, the energy, and the moments. It is the last possible day to get pumpkins, carve them and have them ready for the trick or treaters tonight.Nothing like waiting until the last moment... We'll be baking and carving, listening to the Iowa game on the radio, and making a home.

Things to Come

2011-10-22T08:36:00.001-07:00

The view from the porch today is a nice one - crunchy bronze leaves surround the mums in the front garden. Deep russet, burnt orange, bright gold. We had our first hard frost this week at my house and the mums have taken on richer hues. The grass is beautifully green and vibrant. I'll get the boy to cut the grass one more time this weekend, bagging up the leaves into mulch as he goes.

Last night I went to the varsity football game, the last home game of the season. It was kind of an orientation for me as I have lived here for six years and this is the first high school game I've attended. The 8th grade band played with the high school marching band and I recognize that this is a sign of things to come. Next year, the boy will be a high school freshman and we'll go between middle school activities for the girl and high school activities for the boy. So I went and had fun, learned the school song ending chant and had a good time with friends.

I was very flattered this week to be asked to take on an important leadership role at church. I really, really want to do it and think I could make a positive contribution. But the coming years with my kids at home are going to fly by, filled with concerts and games and life. There's a whole congregation of people who can step into that role and also make their own positive contribution. But only I can be Mom to my kids.

When October Goes

2011-10-03T07:48:00.000-07:00

I'm resurrecting an entry originally posted October 28, 2009. The sentiment is just as true today. October continues to be a time of transition for me. As of today, I am legally divorced and single. October focuses me on family, home, and life's journey. Good thing I love this month...

Johnny Mercer said it well, "I should be over it now, I know. It doesn't matter much how old I grow. I hate to see October go."

I think the colors this year have been more vivid than I have remembered in many years. Maybe I always think that, but there are just some unusually spectacular looking trees out there. And they've just started to go past their peak. It's such a short time to really enjoy them.

To indulge my melancholy a little more before I shut it off, it isn't lost on me that the year is quickly coming to an end. Once Halloween is through, it is a sprint to New Year's Day, or so it seems.

It's been an interesting week. I witnessed a wedding of two lovers in middle age. A love that has not aged in 20 years, but rather has deepened and strengthened. Wonderful, affirming, and worshipful.

I also learned that a good friend has cancer. Again.

Two very different events in the space of a few days.

It fits with my melancholy mood, my realization that the Octobers are coming a little faster each year. I am reminded this week that life is precious and precarious. What dreams do I need to let go? What dreams do I need to pursue? What new twists does life have in store? What do I need to do to continue to live my life intentionally and with purpose? What do I need to do for my children as they grow before my eyes?

What do I need to do before it's too late?

Okay, enough melancholy.

What I need to do is enjoy life, with all its twists and surprises, joys and sorrows, and all the wonderful, amazing people I know and love. And to let them know how much they mean to me.

What we really need to do before it's too late, is to fully live our lives.

When October Goes

2011-09-30T17:59:00.001-07:00

September Friday Night

2011-09-17T12:54:00.000-07:00

The view from the porch has a little extra light from TT Cranny Field over at Grinnell High School. It's a September Friday night and that means football.
Many thanks to my dear stepdad Phil who taught me how to understand the game and how to enjoy watching it. With a 13 year old son who's life is about football right now, it helps a lot. Thanks, Phil.
Nights like this remind me of the other Tigers, the Red Oak Tigers. Friday nights with friends at what we now call Russ Benda Field and heading for chili at the Elks after the game ended.
I actually prefer to listen to sports on the radio. KGRN on Fridays and WHO on Saturdays.
There's a chill in the air and it is a night for hot food and a cold beer.
Go Tigers!

Busted open

2011-09-11T18:24:00.000-07:00

Living with eyes and heart wide open is a wonderful goal. It sounds so encouraging to experience all that life has to offer.
Truth is, it takes a lot of courage to live that way.
If you are an adult and it isn't a challenge for you to live with your heart wide open, then your heart probably hasn't been broken open. I think we start off that way as children and then little by little we begin to develop the shell around the heart because we have experienced heartbreak, disappointment, hatred, jealousy...We develop coping mechanisms, healthy and unhealthy, to take the edge off or make us numb.
It takes risk to experience all that love is for us. Every time we open ourselves to experience life again, we take a risk.
Would it be easier to simply our close hearts to prevent us from the pain? Sure. But it also prevents us from feeling the amazing joy and love that life has to offer as well.

Stanton, Nyman, Bethesda, Clarinda...

2011-09-03T03:52:00.000-07:00

An interesting thing happened last weekend that is worthy of note...

I am getting to spend some time with two of my four parents alone these days. One weekend every month or so while the kids visit their dad, I spend a Saturday evening and night with my dad and stepmom. It has been ages since this happened, really, if at all.

Dad has treated us to Saturday dinner out somewhere around Red Oak, Iowa. We leave the house about 5 and listen to "A Prairie Home Companion" on the radio as we reach our dinner destination. Last week, the destination was The Ice House in Clarinda. We had a great meal and conversation, just the three of us. We finish our meal and get back in the car in time to listen to the monologue as we take the long way home.

Last week, Dad drove us through the grounds, still beautifully kept, at what is now known as the Clarinda Treatment Complex. Formerly a state institution for persons with mental illness. Back in the day, it could have been a private college campus. The views are pastoral and lovely as we head north out of town.

The area is familiar and we drive along the farms and rolling hills. A recent hailstorm has destroyed many acres of corn and beans - late season storms that strip the leaves and beat down the corn as if a truck had driven around the field.

South of Stanton, west to Bethesda, north to Nyman...this is the place where my great-grandparents settled when they immigrated from Sweden. The farms and communities they established more than 125 years ago. Earlier, Dad and I looked at a gift I had received from my dad's older sister. It was my great-grandmother Nora Olson Linquist's autograph book. Signed in beautiful pen and ink script by teachers and friends with equally stalwart Swedish names, sweet poems of remembrance, and the date. 1889 is the earliest year penned.

Driving those roads, I thought that those folks today would likely be able to find their way around. Many farms are still there, the churches are still there, the roads are paved and not dirt or gravel.

We then had a moment of serendipity. Remember my last post? About paying attention to those moments when things seem to conveniently converge? The last song played on "A Prairie Home Companion" that night was a hymn that is deeply cherished by this Swedish-American community in Montgomery and Page Counties of Iowa, and I have written about it before.

"Children of the Heavenly Father" is a tender and lovely cradle song, a lullaby of God as the Father and we as his children....safely gathered, protected, cared for and loved beyond measure. We hear this lovely hymn on one occasion and it will bring tears to the eyes of the most stoic Swede. It is typically played at funerals. We grow up hearing it first at our grandparents' funerals as we are children and at every funeral after. It's the song that we dread and adore at the same time. I've never quite been able to sing it all the way through and I marvel at those who are asked to sing it at a funeral.

This rendition was a lovely duet and they sang all the verses, including the first verse in Swedish as it is done these days. The music and the place seemed to come together in one of those Fellowship of Saints moments when I was reminded of the presence of all those people with me. It was an ideal soundtrack for this late summer drive through the land of our roots.

Life is amazing. Go through it with your eyes and heart wide open.

Paying Attention and Being Present

2011-08-12T20:08:00.000-07:00

I pay attention to funny stuff.

I notice when my horoscope happens to be especially spot-on in its thoughts about my life. Often my daily devotional hits the nail on the head and really speaks to me. And often Leo Babauta's posts on ZenHabits blog just happen to be written for me.

Like this recent post. You can read it here.

Mindfulness. How to deal with all the overwhelming details and stress of the day to stop and focus. Simply be aware and interrupt the pattern. It's what Christine tells me to do... focus and breathe, she says. It's so easy for my thoughts to spin out of control and forget that I am wearing the ruby slippers I need to reconnect with my peace of mind.

It's how we teach HeartMath, too... heart focus, heart breathing...heart feeling.

My dad rides a Harley - in fact, he's had a motorcycle for nearly as long as I can remember. He and I talked the other day and he gushed over the ride he and his friends had that day. The weather was ideal. He was listening to his favorite music and enjoying the scenery along the two-lane highway through Iowa's countryside.

"It's a mechanical anti-depressant, Doone. (that's his name for me) I get on that bike and I am fully and completely in the moment. There's nothing like it."

As a newly single mom, my days can be extraordinarily busy with work, kids, keeping up the house and all my other activities. It takes a real effort to make time for myself and to not feel guilty about it. (Can I get an amen?)

If I simply (simply...eh?) focus and enjoy the moment for what it is, it does feed my spirit. For those of us who are so busy trying to do three things at once, this takes practice and allowing oneself a good deal of grace for not getting it right all the time. Because life is in our everyday moments, not something to always work toward, but finding joy in the warmth of the sun, the time spent with my kids at this moment, even the satisfaction of washing my dishes by hand. Noticing. Paying attention. Living in the moment.

Summer's Turning

2011-08-07T05:42:00.001-07:00

I've spent a lot of hours driving over the past couple of weeks and I have noticed that summer has turned. We've passed the point of accelerating into the peak of summer and have begun the downward turn that takes us to autumn. The vibrant shades of green are fading and tinged with brown. The cicadas, the harbinger of late summer started their sawing a few weeks ago.

The pile of new school supplies, backpack, and lunch box, the football shoes, the trainers, the fleece jacket bought on sale, and the Iowa State Fair are all pointing the way to the end of summer.

Today's view from the porch is the turning, the transition from one season to the next. It's been a very full and satisfying summer for us. My plan to put the big rocks in the jar back in May was important to do all the things we wanted to do. John went to Tennessee at the end of May. We traveled to the Black Hills in late June, enjoyed a family reunion, and just ended our annual summer trip to Minnesota. This summer, we learned many things about ourselves, about each other and about who we are as a family in the new way our family looks. It's a time of turning for us, too.

July 30, 1964

2011-07-30T06:35:00.000-07:00

Today's view from the porch is different than usual. My porch view today is of the Minnesota north woods complete with a thundershower. Deep greens and dark clouds today in sharp contrast to yesterday's brilliant blue sky and abundant sunshine.

Most people have days of the year that mark the passing of time, New Year's Eve, the first day of school, anniversaries.... I'm having one of those today. It is my 47th birthday.

I love birthdays, I really do. My best friend had a birthday earlier this week and it left her feeling a little sad and a little scared. She's much more pragmatic, rational, and analytical than I could ever be. We are a good balance. She keeps me grounded and I keep her busy.

My birthday weekend has been filled with good times spent with family, with longtime friends, and the beauty of a Minnesota lake in the height of summer. Life is the best birthday gift there is.

There's only two things that money can't buy...

2011-07-23T16:15:00.000-07:00

and that's true love and homegrown tomatoes. " - Roy Clark

"The" summer meal is something many people look forward to all year long. For some, it is fresh crab in the Pacific Northwest. In Wisconsin, it's a fish boil.

In Iowa, it is fresh sweet corn and homegrown tomatoes. A "go-to" summer meal around here includes fresh sweet corn and BLT's - bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches. Many an Iowan will not eat a BLT unless there are "real" tomatoes involved and I am one of them. My own tomato plants aren't quite there yet, but the recent hot and humid weather should jump start them. For now, I rely on local growers. Soon, my tomatoes will come from my garden just a few steps from my kitchen door.

The early sweet corn is out of this world. There is nothing else like it. The first amazing meal of summer is a simple one. A bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich with buttered ear of sweet corn. We wait all year for this time and it is well worth the wait.

Stinkin' Thinkin'

2011-06-28T17:48:00.000-07:00

There's a family story that my father in law used to have a word... "photorectimyesis" which for him, translated into "a poopy outlook on life."

Lord, how easy it is to fall into THAT kind of stinkin' thinkin'!

Today's view from the porch needs to be abundance, not scarcity. After a delightful six day vacation hosted by my dad and stepmother to the Black Hills with my family, I returned to clogged floor drains, again, in my basement.

Today, my mind went directly to scarcity. "How much will this cost?" I thought of backhoes and tearing up concrete. Roto-rooters and then to refinancing my house...and my credit score is "risky" and how will I ever get a loan again? What about retirement? What about my kids' college education? What if I end up losing my house?

You get the idea. Geez, girl. Get a grip.

It's not fun. It is stinkin' thinkin' at its very best. It is not how I had planned to spend my last day of vacation, trying to get a sewer unclogger to call me, or spending precious hours talking with loan officers just to be told that I would have to do some serious work on my credit score...

"Mama, you are thinking overtime today," Emily says. (yes, she is brilliant, isn't she?)

OK, Laura, you let those waves of doubt overtake you today. Time to get back on the board and get on top of the waves instead of letting them capsize your peace of mind...

Peace! Be Still! Surf's up.

Either/Or Neither/Nor

2011-06-18T06:01:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed when you held two opposite emotions at the same time?

If you are a parent, perhaps you felt an overwhelming sense of joy at the same time you realized that this tiny little person would rely on you as their parent for the rest of your life. Fear and elation...

If you have ever chosen to commit yourself to another person, you know that feeling of love and terror...

If you have ever had a pet that you simply adored, but knew that you would outlive that pet and someday it would die...

If you have started teaching your child life lessons such as doing laundry, cooking, completing a deposit slip, driving a car, you are helping them to eventually leave you to make their own mark in the world, taking your heart with them.

The view from the porch today is the middle. As I say, I am a middle aged mom, living in the middle of my block, in the middle of Iowa, which is in the middle of the country. Today's view is both sides, all sides... and what a gift. Being in the middle allows for appreciation of what has happened, the ability to do a little course correction, and to look to the future with hopeful expectation and the second half of childhood.

Last summer, I was in the middle of a separation from my husband. Our summer both flew by and dragged on... This summer, we're in the middle of divorce and the kids and I are making this summer one to remember. Emily and I will go down the blue slide at the pool at least once a week together. We will enjoy fireflies. We pick strawberries from our garden and made JAM for the first time. We will travel to exotic places like the Black Hills and Detroit Lakes, MN. We will celebrate our country with 100,000 other people on the west lawn of the Iowa capitol. We will worship together. We will see "The 39 Steps" in Lincoln, Nebraska with Uncle Rob. The kids will attend a family reunion. I will spend time through the summer with dear friends I do not see nearly enough. We will really live and experience our summer.

The view from the porch this week is as rich and lush as the exploding fields of corn, the deep blue of a baby's eyes, the wide smile of a friend, the warm embrace of love. All the while holding the feelings that remind me I cannot stop time and keep my children at this moment, that they continue to grow as independent (very) individuals. I can pause, and appreciate, and therefore be present to experience it all. I would not trade a single moment.

Women of a Certain Age

2011-06-10T03:57:00.000-07:00

I finally feel officially 'middle aged.'

I care about my lipid profile and know that a statin is something I want to avoid having to take. And I actually have conversations, lively ones, about things like cholesterol, triglycerides, LDLs, and other things that I don't exactly know why I should be concerned about them, but I am.

I'm not ready to stop coloring my hair.

I notice that it takes more effort to look "polished" than it used to.

I have had conversations recently with physicians about permanent birth control who have all said, "Yeah, you really don't want to have a baby at your age..."

I remember thinking that I would have a freshman and a senior in high school at the same time, but just recently went to the next step and realized that I will also have a freshman and senior, hopefully, in college very shortly thereafter...

I don't like to drive at night. I wear trifocals. A bottle of beer gives me a buzz.

I order coffee with lunch.

I have a sense of confidence that comes only with twenty-odd years of life and work experience.

I have friends who are celebrating 25 years of marriage. Friends with grandchildren. And they are in love with life all over again.

I care less about what people think of me, and more about what they think about their own lives.

I can get really angry with God, and know that she's okay with that.

I know that every single day is a gift, not something to "get through."

And I know that life isn't about being happy, it is about living.

As Yet No Sign

2011-06-05T05:46:00.000-07:00

What is one to say about June, the time of perfect young summer, the fulfillment of the promise of earlier months, and with as yet no sign to remind one that its fresh young beauty will ever fade. - Gertrude Jekyll

I didn't know anything about Ms. Jekyll, other than I knew that roses had been named for her. According to Google and the link above, she looks like my Great Aunt Florence and was a phenomenal gardener of the English tradition.

The view from the porch today is June. In all its loveliness.

As I went for my walk last night, this quote gently came in and out of my thoughts... I had planted a garden of my own earlier in the day and the walk was to hopefully work out any sore muscles I might discover this morning. While I did enjoy other's lovely plantings and blooming flowers, there are no gardens that rival Ms. Gertrude's. But, we do what we can.

Iowa gardeners tend to be reserved. Gardens are plotted and landscaped. Flowers, like mine in my cutting garden, are planted in rows. Our gardens reflect our personalities. We line up well. We tend to be rather nice and don't draw a lot of attention to ourselves. There are some of us who will blaze the trail for the rest, try new plants and such, but by and large, we plant the gardens of our grandparents.

I know that I do. Pearl enjoyed her flowers regimented along the fence line. Peace roses and zinnias. Lester had a wonderful vegetable garden. I am certain that I planted the same things yesterday as he would have chosen, HE would have added a few things I did not. I have a few tomatoes, cucumbers, green peppers...I doubt he had basil or any herbs that I love. He would have planted hills of potatoes back on Good Friday and all the onions they would need for the year. Maybe a muskmelon or watermelon...

This is the time of year when June is so lush with promise of things to come. How interesting that it also has the power to make me pause and remember people and moments of my childhood.

Margaret Atwood once said, "At the end of a spring day, one should smell of dirt." It is hugely satisfying.

Midlife? WTH?

2011-05-25T19:42:00.000-07:00

Today's view from the porch is a number. I can see 47 from here.

I'm not terribly hung up on my age. I know all that stuff about age doesn't matter... In fact, I spend at least an hour every Monday morning with a room full of people who pat me on the head and smile when I mention my age because they tell me I am just a young thing. As long as I work with the senior ed program, I will always feel young.

Mostly because they show me what aging is supposed to be. Engaged. Learning. Slow down if need be, but do not stop.

So, squarely in midlife, I find myself with some interesting options. Options that have never crossed my mind...what is next for me?

While I once thought I had some notions about what I might like to do "when I grow up," there are all kinds of things coming at me. It is thrilling and terrifying all at the same time.

I wonder what comes next?

Post-rapture sermon.

2011-05-22T18:39:00.000-07:00

This week's view from the pew is actually a view from the pulpit as I filled in for a dear friend who is on maternity leave... Here's the sermon from May 22, 2011, Acts 7:55-60; John 14:1-14.

Well...we're still here.

Maybe you saw on the news the past few weeks that a radio host, Howard Camping predicted through his bible study that Judgment Day would happen late yesterday afternoon, May 21, 2011. John and I spent a little time talking about this and what this all means. We do what other 21st century families do, we googled it. "Rapture 2011." and it laid out the very complicated mathematics that look more like numerology rather than theology. Interestingly, we also saw that if didn't go on May 21, there's another coming on October 24, 2011.

Here's what I'm wondering this morning... what are the pastors who warned their congregations about this impending rapture talking about today? What's the mood in their churches today? Are they a little peeved that they are still here?

How do they recover from this?

In some ways, Howard Camping fits a little with our story of Stephen... "But filled with the Holy Spirit, he gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. 'Look,' he said, "I see the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God! But they covered their ears, and with a loud shout all rushed together against him..."

I have to admit, I've thrown some verbal stones at him myself. I wonder how his followers are treating him today.

I also have to admit that until news of the rapture, I really didn't know what I would say to you today about these passages that would provide any insight.

I struggled with today's passage from John, especially. There's just so much here to unpack. There are so many themes to choose, so many ways to go. The writing is really lovely and I am a sucker for good writing. It is metaphorical for us and that's part of the challenge. I asked a lot of friends about this passage and everyone of them suggested a different theme, a different way to go.

They reminded me about the concept of Pater Familias - a term that explains the reference in the opening verses of the Gospel - I was told that during the time this gospel was written in Greece, that wealthy men had large homes and if you were chosen to live in his house, you had a true sense of security. But, this was highly selective and not everyone had the opportunity to live in a home like this. When Jesus said, "in my Father's house there are many dwelling places," he infers that there is room for all, not just those special few...

And when folks like Mr. Camping read their bibles, they know that moments like a Judgment Day are going to happen..."and if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself..." It all seems to be so clear and straightforward - if it's what you want to hear.

Frankly, I find this so full of metaphor and words that can provide great comfort as well as words that can provide disappointment. I do take comfort in knowing that I am not alone in my confusion - grasping at what the writer is trying to convey...

This passage from John is part of a long farewell from Jesus to his disciples. They are confused - they know the end is coming and it is terrifying for all of them. The disciples don't know what Jesus is saying either. "Lord, we do NOT know where you are going! How can we know the way?"

Jesus says, "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you know me, you know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him." Philip jumps in and is so confused - show us, prove to us... Jesus gets exasperated with them all...

In the disciples' defense, is is hard to think clearly when faced with extreme fear, stress, worry. Our hearts are troubled, they ache. Maybe that is why this passage has been shared and read to us for generations when we are suffering, times when hope is so hard. We've all been there - times when we are so afraid, so sad, so unsure of what the future holds.

It's easy to struggle with this passage - it's easy to ask why God lets us suffer? Where is God or Jesus in the pain of life? Do we have to wait to die to feel "at home" with God? I've prayed to Jesus, just like he said to, and still my prayers go unanswered...

Today, many of us have heavy hearts as our friend, colleague, and principal Buck Laughlin passed away yesterday afternoon. Some of us have walked this journey with him when he was first diagnosed with cancer more than ten years ago.

In his book, "The Words of Gardner Taylor," I find his interpretation of this passage consoling today. Taylor interprets this passage to say that God is not apart from us through the pain and suffering of life. God is there with us through it all and that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Light through all of life's trials, loss, suffering, and disappointments. As an Easter people, we know that death does not have the last word and that none of these situations define who we are. We know through Jesus there is more to our life. And Taylor suggests that Jesus is the way, the way home... in this world and the next.

I'll close today with a quote from Gilda Radner, who also lost her life at an early age to cancer. It seems very appropriate for us today.

"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next."

May you be at home with God in all the days to come.

Amen.

Renewal and Dog Hair

2011-04-25T19:30:00.000-07:00

Today's view from the porch is one of renewal...and fluffy bits of fur from my weekend bed partner...no, there's no new man in my life...

My mother and stepfather came to visit this weekend, hauling their trailer behind them from the great north like Santa and Mrs. Claus. A new recliner wrapped in a blue tarp looking like Granny Clampett could have been strapped in, came into my living room. It is huge. A chair and a half recliner, they call it. My kids think it is the greatest thing that has happened to them in the last several months. Topped only by a new television...

The recliner IS pretty great...but better yet was the other seat they brought with them. A brand-new high rise WHITE toilet. The color is really important because the one that was replaced had only one problem. It was pink. Otherwise, it is a perfectly fine fixture for one that is more than 55 years old. Bob and John worked their tails off...replacing the toilet and laying new vinyl flooring...in between fixing the leak under the kitchen sink and a new sink disposal.

I even got a new to me bike out of the deal. Mom's arthritis doesn't allow her to ride it any longer, so I will. Maybe it will keep the arthritis at bay in me.

While Mom and Bob were houseguests at a lovely local motel, their sweet puppydog stayed with us. I awakened on Saturday morning with my darling daughter on one side of me and this big lug at my feet. I've had my dog fix for a while, but very pleased with how responsible the kiddos were with him. Maybe a dog will be in our future at some point...

A time to celebrate new life

2011-04-24T12:51:00.000-07:00

From us to you...Joy of spring and rebirth to each of you.

The "Mad Men" of the Early Church - Advertising at its best

2011-04-23T04:35:00.000-07:00

I've worked in public relations for 25 years. Just like other professionals, I read journals and other articles to learn more about how others do this work for inspiration, ideas, and more. Never have I seen better marketers and PR people than early church leaders.

They were great marketers and experts in rebranding and repackaging. Honestly. As they worked to spread Christianity, they adapted what worked and made sense from religions that were already present and made them their own... Of course, sometimes this was often a hostile takeover.

Two stunning examples come to mind. The Europeans who decided that Advent should happen when their world was the darkest, when the Pagans celebrated Yule, were geniuses. How reassuring it is to hear the words from John that remind us that the darkness will not overcome the Light at a time of year when the nights are much longer than the days. And miraculously, the light begins to return to the world at that time...daylight comes back slowly to our hemisphere.

When we look a little more closely at the beloved story of Jesus' birth, some have suggested that shepherds were usually in their fields during lambing, in the spring.

There is nothing biblical about when to celebrate Easter. The first Sunday after the first full moon after the first day of spring. The only constant is that Easter is on a Sunday. When we have been through forty days of personal spiritual spring cleaning and our inner life reflects the outside world of drab, a bright, sunny spring Sunday morning is a wonderful way to celebrate new life and resurrection.

I understand from my friend who lives in Michigan's Upper Pennisula that they have awakened to snow on the ground on this Holy Saturday. Now, those people are looking for a little green grass and evidence that there is life after death.

The lush green of the lawns, the eye-popping yellow daffodils, the beautiful magnolias, all remind me that just a month ago, it was drab, brown, and new life was hard to find. It fit with the difficult journey of the wilderness of Lent. But this week, this Holy Week has shown that even when it looks like it is the end, as if death has the final word, the world in all its green, shows that life and love have been there all along. We just haven't been able to see it.

It is genius, really.

Mindful and present

2011-03-26T09:00:00.000-07:00

Today's view from the porch is deceiving. While the grass is certainly greening and there are little sprouts of tulips and daffs in the flower beds, it is chilly out there this morning. There are snow showers in the forecast and I am missing the warmer days of last week when it was wonderful to walk outside. Those days will return soon. The weather is giving me the excuse to have a "sweatpants Saturday." The kids are on spring break now and, boy, do we need a break.

There's a lot going on in our family these days. The kids' dad is in the hospital in Iowa City and its a serious situation. We're being very gentle with each other, finding a lot of strength in ourselves we never knew we had, and feeling both grounded and lifted by the love and support of family and friends.

The last gasp of winter weather draws us to stay in today. It calls for movies and basketball, naps and cups of coffee, homemade waffles like Auntie Ar makes, and freely giving hugs. I think it also calls for a big pot of "end of the week" soup. Whatever I find in the veg bin is going in the pot.

In light of the serious nature of what we are dealing with, I am struck that we are simply living, mindful that life is a gift. It can be messy and it is often not what we expect. But the best part of this gift is found in the everyday moments of life - laughter, tears, work, sleep, and love. Living with a new focus on gratitude for this most amazing life.

Life is full of surprises. Expect them.

2011-03-19T16:02:00.000-07:00

The world's axis shifted in more ways than one these past several days.

These days, one needs to have multiple personalities to keep up with all that is going on in the wider world, the country, the state, the community, and my own family.

Mother Nature had mercy on us this week and gave us some warm and sunny mid-March days to remind us that, yes, Virginia, there will be a spring. More daylight in the evening has allowed us to get outside after dinner. The early spring air smells so...muddy.

My vices of comfort this week have been the delectible taste of spring spinach and the NCAA men's basketball tournament.

Honestly, the events of the past several days on all fronts have been life-changing. No whinging about my life - my family and I were not buried alive under a tsunami of mud.

But...there have been some very, very close calls this week with those closest to me. As my son John says, "Life is full of surprises. Expect them."

Always Look On the Bright Side of Life...

2011-02-06T12:30:00.000-08:00

Somethings I love...

My daughter did not blink an eye or even ask a question when she came in my room this morning to find her big pink plastic box of crayons on my bed next to a drawing pad where I had left them.

My son turned the kitchen upside down this morning to find his great-grandmother's recipe for coffee cake. We're still looking, but Bisquick did the job in the meantime.

DaVinci blend coffee at Saints Rest in Grinnell on a winter February afternoon with a good book and 45 minutes to myself.

Friends who Facebook with me while they are in church and I am at home.

This week, I read that some people think Facebook is making us depressed. I'm thinking they don't have the right friends. I'm living through some of the most challenging days of my life right now and I am buoyed by the network of friends, both those from my childhood and those who are relatively new. Just this week, my friends and I had moments of sharing love and memories of amazing women from my home church. From England, Iowa, Minnesota, even Kenya, we all were united in one big roll call of admiration and celebration of the lives of these women and how they touched each of us.

Look for the hate and anger in the world and you will find it. You will feel worse for it. Look for the love and potential in this world, the little things that make you smile, and you will feel the divine.

January Saturdays

2011-01-15T07:05:00.000-08:00

There is something about this time of year that compels me to spend hours cooking. I know I am not alone in this. Even the lady at the checkout counter said that she loves to bake at this time of year as she placed the flour, sugar, chocolate, and nuts in my shopping bag. And Mrs. Sundberg's post this week nearly echoed my past weekend. I made three soups for the week and a pan of dinner rolls...

This weekend, I have a reason to bake. It's my turn to bring treats for coffee hour after church. Two pans of brownies made last night - use the recipe on the Baker's Unsweetened Chocolate box. Yes, making them from scratch is worth the extra step. On the baking roster today will be chewy date nut bars and chocolate chip cookies. All the while, soup will be going in the crock pot and on the stove. Tomato, lentil and barley, a split pea, and I'm going to see what I can do with broccoli...

This week, my home-body self was affirmed when it was revealed to me that I am in fact a Cancer and not a Leo. I have never really followed astrology - I know my sign and the traits of my sign, but it never really fit me - ambition, the spotlight, devouring my enemy... anyone who knows me knows that is not me.

But, I do have a highly developed sense of intuition. I am an emotional and sensitive person. I am trusting, to a fault. I seek the good and positive in every situation. I am a homebody and love to spend time in the kitchen. I knit more than half of the gifts I gave at Christmas this year...As I read the traits of Cancer, I was gobsmacked how they fit me so much better than a Leo ever did. That has been a fun surprise of the week.

Time to put on the coffee, to pull out Grandma Pearl's measuring spoons and get the oven started. Stay warm today.

A New Year's Toast

2011-01-01T04:19:00.000-08:00

The view from the porch today is a cold one... A cold front has passed through during the night with gusty winds that has blown away the fog that has blanketed us for several days. The kids and I enjoyed a quiet New Year's Eve. Friday night is pizza night at our house and instead of the usual 4 for $10 kind that is often is, I had time to make homemade pizza. I tried a new recipe from the good ol' BHG standard cookbook, circa 1982. Wonderful crust, probably my best ever.

We toasted each other with stemmed wine glasses, yes the good crystal, filled with 7up and cranberry juice.

"Here's hoping that all the yucky stuff from last year stays there!" Emily, age 9.

Well said, my little lovey.

Is there a time to take Christ OUT of Christmas?

2010-12-21T14:42:00.000-08:00

I had a great time reading to 2nd graders today at one of our local elementary schools. A group of us from work volunteered to read to students after lunch. We chose our books from a pile in the library, pre-selected by the school. I grabbed a book that looked fun and was written by Mem Fox. I love Mem Fox and this was a new one to me. Any kids' book that has 'wombat' in the title is for me.

I wished I had flipped through the book before I made my choice, however.

Dear little wombat was now old enough to have a part in the nativity play. He was either too big, too tall, too small, or too sleepy to be the Archangel Gabriel, Mary, Joseph, a Wise Man, or the innkeeper. He was finally chosen to be the baby Jesus. All's well that ends well.

I felt very uneasy reading this story to a group of school children in their classroom. I know, I am overly sensitive to this. There were several different ways of seeing this story. All the Christian children who know the story of the birth of Jesus could relate. All the children who may not be Christian may have felt like no one ever comes to read books for their religious holidays. And the one little boy in the front who asked, "Who is Joseph?" completely confirmed for me that in school, it's okay for it to be a completely secular holiday celebration.

I know this seems very strange to say, but there are times when I'd like to take Christ OUT of Christmas. The birth of Jesus has nothing to do with sales at the malls, buying someone a Lexus, or a fabulous chunk of jewelry - exhilarating as it may be. It has nothing to do with cookies, bows, cards, drinks parties, and the like. It really has nothing to do with Santa Claus, but you can kind of see how we learn to pray in our Dear God/Santa...please give me everything that I want sort of way..

Until August of this year, I spent 16 months in a paid staff role as a Christian Education coordinator for my local church. I love sharing the wonderful stories of the bible, telling of the amazing people who have shaped our faith, the lessons to be learned from all this great history and how God still speaks to us today. Let's just say I was out of my comfort zone in a public school with children, save two whom I have taught in Sunday School, whom I did not know if they a) celebrated the real story of Christmas, b) celebrated a completely secular Christmas, c) observed other faith traditions, or d) did not celebrate Christmas at all.

Yes, I know that I was the only one in the room who was uncomfortable. I'm grateful for the nudge of the Spirit who let me know that making assumptions is never the best way forward. I'll read again, with my Santa hat on, at school next year. But I'll be certain to pre-screen my selection first...

Middle School

2010-12-06T19:52:00.000-08:00

What an awkward age middle school is... I'm showing my age to call it "junior high." But in 7th and 8th grade, that's what it is to me, "junior high." It's that weird place in between.

Tonight we attended the 7th and 8th grade winter concert at the high school. It won't be long before we'll be attending high school programs at the high school. In 7th grade, a girl in tights and Mary Janes will stand in front of a young woman in an adult dress, hose, and pumps. In 7th grade, boys will stand at five feet tall next to a young man of 5'8". And they are all the same age.

The shyness of some of these young people is painful to watch. Each one of them feels as though everyone is looking directly at them and as a member of the audience, I almost want to look away. It doesn't seem so bad with the band, they have music to look at, they aren't looking out at us. But the choirs, their focus is their director in front of the ENTIRE auditorium filled with parents, siblings, and grandparents. They sing so well, but their shyness keeps them from singing. They were barely audible and I know 90 percent of the grandparents did not hear a single note they sang. Bless their hearts.

I loved junior high, but I also know what a stressful and difficult time it is for those who are about to be teenagers. Is that how young I really was in 7th grade? I thought I was becoming so grown up. I wanted to be an adult at that age, but I was still just a girl in hose and pumps.

As I looked at them, I had this urge to tell my 12 year old self that it really did get better and life was different in ways I could never have imagined then. I wanted to tell my 12 year old self that I really wasn't as big as I thought I was at that age and I'd LOVE to be that size now. I'd tell myself that as we age, we care less and less about how other people think of us. We begin to own our sense of style. Those are things I want those beautiful, awkward, young women to know, and to borrow a phrase, to tell them that it does get better.

Gratitude

2010-11-21T17:11:00.000-08:00

What a weekend!

On a total whim, my 12 year old son and I dressed like we were going to the grocery store in Fargo, ND, in the middle of January and went to the Iowa/Ohio State football game.

Four layers of clothing, socks, and a men's parka. John and I both sported fur caps with ear flaps. We looked like we were from Nort DahKOtah, eh?

This morning, my daughter asked how we got our tickets. I said that I bought them off a guy in the street. "You mean a hobo?"

"Uhm...no. Not a hobo. He made $20 off me." Yes, I paid more than I should have because they can see me coming from a 100 yards away. But, it was worth every cent to make memories with my son.

Oh yeah, and Iowa lost. So much for that.

Today, in the midst of all that grips my heart and mind and makes me so introspective, a dear friend came rolling back into my life.

Just this spring, he had a massive stroke and we didn't even know if he was going to make it. He's now moved to Grinnell, and I haven't seen him since his stroke. The smiles, tears, and hugs from our little reunion were wonderful.

I can tell you that the things that I am wrestling with in my life look very different this evening.

A Not-Quite Thanksgiving Thanksgiving Dinner

2010-11-14T19:00:00.000-08:00

Something inspired me on Friday afternoon at the grocery store and made me buy a bone-in turkey breast. One thing led to another and this afternoon, the kids and I had a mini-Thanksgiving dinner. I've never made Thanksgiving dinner by myself. I've brought side dishes and watched from the living room most of the time, but never solo. It went really well. The turkey was accompanied by roasted butternut squash and turnips with rosemary and thyme and sage dressing. Not bad. The boy got into the act when I told him he could make a pumpkin pie. Which he did and it was really, really good. Especially with real whipped cream we beat up with the mixer.

Thanksgiving is getting so crowded out between Halloween and Christmas. It is becoming just a day of rest during the Christmas shopping season. I've already seen decorated Christmas trees in my neighborhood. It's November 14. I still have pumpkins on my front step.

Think gratitude. Not just one day out of the year, but everyday.

And When October Goes...

2010-11-07T05:08:00.000-08:00

I am unabashedly in love. With the month of October. I love the colors, the crisp air, the coziness of being at home in the evenings as dusk comes early.

Johnny Mercer wrote the song, "When October Goes," a lovely melancholy song of the change of seasons and a lost love. I adore the song for many reasons. It has started to take on a new meaning, however, when my children and I are enjoying the Halloween department at Target, to turn down the next aisle and greeted by Christmas cards... "100 Days of Holidays" is what Better Homes and Gardens calls the stretch from October to January 1.

At first, I recoil against all the commercialism of it all. On second thought, the idea of something to celebrate when life seems to be more challenging than not, could be a good thing. I'm not advocating buying more stuff to be sure, but what if we could embrace an attitude of celebration in the face of challenge. Finding something everyday to celebrate, even if it does nothing else but put us in a better mood. We might find that 100 days of holidays could become 365 days of holidays, with some of those days just a little more special than the others.

Getting to No

2010-09-02T03:39:00.000-07:00

A number of years ago, a book on sales and marketing entitled, "Getting to Yes," was a popular seller. The premise was all based on how the seller could get the customer to say "yes" to the product or proposal and hand over the check.

Just lately, I've been finding all the wonderful ways of saying, "No, thank you...."

As a mother, I've probably said, "NO" a million times. But I've made sure I said "yes" more often...

I am a "yes man." I've always thought if one was asked to do something, "yes" was almost always the answer and don't forget to throw in a cheerful heart.

I enjoy reading the blog, Zen Habits, and today's post on cultivating passion is wonderful. Difficult to do because it requires us to get to NO and to say yes to that which furthers our passion. As a full time working parent, there's a lot in my daily schedule that has zero to do with anything that gets me to my passion. Laundry, lunchboxes, carpool, work, and commitments to various organizations I am involved in are all tasks and details to keep track of and can clutter up my time.

But, some of those tasks, frankly the more mundane ones, are worth keeping.

Two of my passions are my kids. Instead of considering the multitude of tasks that keep my family and household going as a daily drudge, I can see it as something that furthers my passion. Before you get to thinking that my house is BHG photo ready at all times (Better Homes and Gardens), you also need to know that I say NO plenty often to tasks that can wait. What can't wait is when I'm asked to throw the football after dinner or for homework help or to play a game. Or simply to just "be" with my kids.

See? When we identify our passion, it is easier to get to the no that helps us get to the right yes.

It's August

2010-08-03T13:42:00.000-07:00

I think we're ready... school supplies are purchased, registration forms completed, fees paid, a little money in the hot lunch fund...

The cicadas are now buzzing most of the day, a definite sign that the high point of summer has passed. For me, the day that the long stretch of summer turns into numbered days is July 30, my birthday. As a child, I often received a big box of school supplies from my grandmother for my birthday. But I couldn't do anything with them. Arrgghh... That was hard for a kid who enjoyed school.

In fact, on my birthday this year, I went shopping for my own children's school supplies. And I cannot resist buying myself some new pens and a notebook.

Published!

2010-07-24T10:42:00.000-07:00

I am a published author! Check it out here! I am the corresponding author with our HeartMath team at GRMC for The Heart of Grinnell for Alternatives in Health and Medicine. What a cool experience! I am grateful for all the help provided by Rollin McCraty, Institute of HeartMath.

Gray flannel and crisp white bonnets

2010-03-10T19:18:00.000-08:00

Tonight I was at our local Wal-Mart... I know, it's all we have though... and in the next aisle I hear the sounds of children speaking in a language other than English. Hmm?? Sounds German to me? (You'd think after two years of college German I ought to recognize it.) Around the corner a little tot in a gray flannel dress and bonnet comes, with another girl, and a boy, and another girl, and mother with a littler tot yet in the cart, and father with one in his arms. We do not live far from Amish communities but it is not usual to see a young family like this one in our town.

In our WalMart, kid-boring things like toothpaste and shampoo aisles go directly into the pet section and a wall of aquariums. The sounds of joy these children let out made me smile no end. I had forgotten how a simple joy of a big tank of colorful fish can be. Their giggles were delightful.

They went their way and I went mine. I met up with them again in another part of the store. As I looked down the aisle, here were three girls in their dark gray dresses all looking at swimming suits. Have you ever seen girls swimming suits at WalMart? Can you imagine? The color is screaming neon and flower prints in pinks and purples. It was an amazing image to see these girls sneaking a peek and a touch of the fabric. Priceless.

January 31, 2010

2010-02-27T11:17:00.000-08:00

Basically on a dare five weeks ago, I had my first go at acupuncture. I was traveling and at the home of friends of one of my traveling companions. We were invited for coffee and acupuncture on Sunday morning. Michael is a practitioner of traditional Chinese medicine and he set up the massage table in the eat-in kitchen.

"Now, who has not had acupuncture before?" he asked the group.

I was the only one who smiled sheepishly.

"I guess its me..." I replied.

We went into the kitchen and I got on the table wondering what in the world was about to happen. Michael has many years of experience and quickly put me at ease. He cradled my neck in his hands and began to tell me that my neck was "junky" - too much tension in my muscles. He said that the neck is the connection between heaven and earth and it needs to be open, less "junky." He really worked on my neck like I've kneaded a bowl of bread dough.

"You will want to take a Tylenol later because you are going to be sore." No kidding.

He then went to the microwave where he pulled out a tubesock filled with buckwheat hulls. He had warmed it in the microwave and then placed it under my neck...it was glorious. And smelled good and nutty, too.

"I want you to make one of these when you get home. Fill a tube sock with rice or buckwheat hulls and then heat it in the microwave at the end of the day. Lay on the floor with your shins and feet on the sofa, a pillow under your head, and your warm rice sock under your neck. Do this everyday and you will feel much better."

Then he took out the needles and explained how they are single-use needles, only for me... and began to insert them in various places....the tops of my feet, my hands, elbows, and ears. (The ears were the only ones I actually felt and even then it felt like a mosquito bite.) He had already put on some soothing music and told me to just stay put and relax for a while.

At the end of the time, he removed the needles quickly and helped me sit up. I got up feeling physically relaxed as if I had just had a massage, which I had. I was admonished to drink lots of water through the day, again just like a massage, to flush my system.

It's been five weeks since that Sunday morning in Michael's kitchen. The most interesting thing is that I have not wanted coffee since. I don't look forward to having that first cup in the morning. It is important to note that I could drink a 12-cup pot of coffee in a morning and really not think much of it. I am a coffee snob, but will drink whatever's around, but not anymore. The funny thing is, we never talked about coffee. It wasn't something I mentioned to him, it was an unintended side effect.

A couple of weeks ago, I decided to call a friend who is an acupuncture and traditional Chinese medicine practitioner here in Grinnell. (Yeah, Grinnell, Iowa...isn't that cool?) I explained this whole coffee thing and that I am really intrigued by this. I mean, if I had that kind of result with something I hadn't even tried to achieve, what could this do for something I want to achieve?

I've had my first session with Anne. She asked me questions I've never even thought of before. I'm intrigued. I have noticed a change in myself in the past few days. It will be interesting to see where this all takes me, but I am eating differently as suggested and it is fascinating. I'll keep you posted on how this goes...

By the way, I am not enjoying coffee, maybe a cup or two of decaf on a Friday morning, but that's it. I am enjoying tea...

Wellness, College Style

2010-02-09T20:10:00.000-08:00

A college wellness fair is an entirely different affair than I've been involved with in my ten years in healthcare marketing. I love being on campus, but it affects me in weird ways. I am now keenly aware that I am most certainly old enough to be any student's mother so my maternal feelings or at least "aunt" feelings are hard to conceal.

Big dogs for cuddling, children to color with, sharing tea and its healing properties, HeartMath, free hugs, and walking a labyrinth... sounds like my kind of wellness. And, by the time I left, I felt a little better about wanting to tell everyone to put on a sweater and go to bed early...

It's Complicated

2010-01-17T14:39:00.001-08:00

My good friend Anne issues an open invitation to the movies when something good comes along...She sends an email to all her women friends with the title of the movie, the day and time of the show, and a review from Rotten Tomatoes. The last movie was "Julie and Julia." I'm not a big movie person, but I enjoy going to the movies on Anne's movie-a-long. I think it is because we have a good time as a group of women, just meeting at the movies.

Today's movie was "It's Complicated." And the theater was filled with women of all ages... Only about four men in the place. I saw an 80 year old PEO sister, women from my church, all generations delighting in watching a gorgeous middle-aged Meryl Streep as the object of desire of two men... There just aren't a lot of movies like this one. And rated R to boot!

The best part was enjoying it, giggling, laughing, crying, and resonating with the emotions on the screen with a room full of women...reveling in a wonderfully funny movie, that celebrated middle-age love and S.E.X. (wink, wink)

Colder than a....

2010-01-02T18:53:00.000-08:00

Today's view from the porch is COLD.

It is ridiculously cold here. I laughed at the sports commentators covering bowl games in Florida talking about how cold it was there...

"Wow! It's only 56 degrees out here, JB! "

"I know! I wanted to take my family to the beach yesterday, and jeez, it was freezing!"

So, it was anywhere from -12 to -20 degrees (yes, Fahrenheit) this morning.

I suspect someone in International Falls, MN is making fun of me right now.

The Greatest Christmas Gift

2009-12-27T07:48:00.000-08:00

I have not been out of my house for five days.

I had a twinge of guilt that I should go to church this morning. Since I usually work at church every Sunday morning, having an opportunity to worship elsewhere with no responsibilities really is very appealing. But that twinge quickly vanished, mercifully.

The Christmas Blizzard of '09 (I can hear it 100 years ago referred to as "ought nine") postponed our holiday plans with our family for a week. It was disappointing, but what a gift it turned out to be. All of a sudden, five days of unplanned time off stretched before me and it has been wonderful.

The past year has been non-stop. Two part-time jobs, my enrollment this fall in a licensed lay ministry class, staying centered with my kids, and all the other things that happen in life have kept me going at a break-neck speed. I know what time and what day it is by which workplace I am in at the moment. Evenings spent working on religious studies after kids have gone to bed.

I spent the day in sweats yesterday. Between working on my presentation for my class in early January, I played three full football games on the XBox with John. It was my idea that he and I set up a playoff tournament. We're supposed to have played the championship today, but we've only played five games and there are 16 teams. I am pretty proud of myself that I am holding my own three games to two. Considering I frequently have to look down at my controller to know what button to push, I'm doing well. The controller is simply an extension of John's hand and he instinctively knows all the bells and whistles. I'm holding my head high.

Stretching out the holiday into the next week is wonderful. It's the way it is supposed to be. I would imagine that a poll of most Americans would show that they believe the 12 days of Christmas begin on December 12 rather than December 25. From now until the Wise Men come on January 6, it will still be Christmas. I'll probably take down the tree next weekend, but there's still more celebration to come....

And tomorrow, life will return to an abbreviated state of normal. The kids are still off school, so I am the only one I need to get out the door in the morning. I'm using some comp time at church, since the Sunday School is also on break, so that will continue the feeling of vacation. Then on Wednesday after lunch, we'll pack up as we had planned to do last week, and head for Grandpa and Grandma's for Christmas and New Year's. I know I will enjoy it more now that I've had a week of Sabbath time.

Slow down, pay attention, enjoy this time...it changes by the moment.

Time for me

2009-12-20T19:03:00.000-08:00

I took an hour this week as the sun began to set and went for a walk. The hour I spent alone just walking felt luxurious...

It was a cloudy afternoon. In fact, there was a bit of fog and as I walked along the edge of town, it was hard to tell where the snow ended and the sky began. The homes began to light up, warm and cozy. There was the scent of wood smoke in the air from a fireplace. Christmas lights outlined the architecture of houses, encircled trees, and twinkled. The Brits call them fairy lights, which I think is perfect.

As much as I love seeing holiday lights in the dark of an evening, I find that I enjoy them even more as the dusk is starting to settle in...that image that Marilynne Robinson writes about in "Gilead." The image of light within light.

Fog muffles sound almost as much as snowfall does. The only sound out there was the crunch of the snow under my boots. A quiet snowy late afternoon in December. Something so simple, but so profound.

Brrrr!!

2009-12-10T15:02:00.000-08:00

I think we survived the Big Snow. There's a ridiculous amount of snow out there, more in one snow event than I have ever seen, something like 14 1/2 inches of snow. Totally ridiculous.

I could not get out of my house yesterday until the neighbor boy came with a shovel to clear the snow drift away from the screen door that sweeps out. Avery is my hero.

Without a snowblower, there was no hope of getting my 4-wheel drive vehicle out of my driveway. I could hardly get to the vehicle itself, let alone drive it out. So, I decided to walk. It's not that far. Like Sarah Palin, "You can see GRMC from my house."

I am embarrassed to admit that I don't walk more often. And I ate my humble pie with a wind chill of -25 at 7:30 this morning.

But it wasn't so bad at noon walking to my other job at the church downtown. In fact it was kind of nice...just made one bad judgment call walking too far down the block to realize that I should have turned around. The last lot on the block had not yet been out to clear their sidewalk. Like a lemming, I followed the tracks of the last ignoramus who also did not turn around, but rather slogged through snow past my knees. I'm sure it was hilarious to watch me make my way to the street.

Walking to the hospital and walking downtown are quick trips. It almost took me more time to get the 16 items of clothing on than it does to actually make the trip. Walking at the end of the day from the church downtown to my house takes closer to 30 minutes. It was colder than it was at lunch and I walked into the wind this time.

But it was a good walk. It gave me time to myself to think. The longer I walked, the longer I realized that there are people who are in this kind of weather everyday. Some by choice, some for work, and some who have no choice. As I walked up my block, there were many blessings to count - my wonderful neighbor was blowing the snow off my driveway, my house would be warm inside, my family ready to share their day with me...and that I won't have to walk tomorrow. Unless, I choose to...

Where have the grown ups gone?

2009-11-30T17:22:00.000-08:00

I don't normally get into politics in this blog...but E.J. Dionne's opinion piece today highlights the wonderful former U.S. Rep. Jim Leach (R-IA) and his call for political civility. Jim Leach is a moderate, and for most things, so am I. He's a Republican like they used to be when they actually were a Grand Old Party...

The shrill of the harpies on either extreme of the political spectrum would do well to take a lesson in civility from Rep. Leach... in my humble opinion....

(Okay, I admit. I am a politics wonk. In fact, I spent four years of blood, sweat, and tears, at the University of Iowa studying political science and psychology as my major... It's taken Jim Leach for me to write about politics in this blog.)

Wow! What a Library!

2009-11-09T19:29:00.000-08:00

If you are lucky enough to be in Grinnell, Iowa right now, stop what you are doing IMMEDIATELY and go directly to the new Drake Community Library. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.

My kids and I walked in late Friday morning last week when the kiddos were off school for conferences.

Honestly, I nearly cried when I walked in. And I wasn't alone. I visited with a gentleman, a beloved retired Grinnell College faculty member, whose voice was trembling like mine. Space! Room! Sunlight! The children's department is probably three times the size of my house.

Everywhere you looked, there were people looking at books, children, TEENS, and adults. There are places to sit and read. I envisioned many winter Sunday afternoons spent there. Each member of my family doing their own thing.

In an era when we wonder if the electronic word is replacing the printed word, the Drake Community Library shows how wonderfully these two can co-exist.

"Perhaps no place in any community is so totally democratic as the town library. The only entrance requirement is interest." ~ Lady Bird Johnson.

"And When October Goes...."

2009-10-28T19:35:00.000-07:00

Johnny Mercer said it well, "I should be over it now, I know. It doesn't matter much how old I grow. I hate to see October go."

Isn't this gorgeous?

2009-10-20T18:33:00.000-07:00

No, it's not New England. It's Grinnell.

Those of us raised in the Congregational side of the UCC family are familiar with the quirky way our forebears commemorated our pilgrim ancestors. We grow up going to church camp at Pilgrim Heights. We sing from the Pilgrim Hymnal. We attend churches with "Plymouth" in the name. And, when we grow up, we retire to Mayflower Community.

This photo was taken today in the courtyard in the midst of Buckley, Beebe, Pearson, and Altemeier Halls. Stunning, isn't it?

And, as a 45 year old person, I find the Mayflower Community pretty darned neat. I'm not ready to go today, but someday, it may be home. Mayflower started in the 1950's as a ministry of the Iowa Conference of the United Church of Christ. The mission was to provide a home for retired clergy who spent their entire ministries in church-sponsored housing, (call it the Manse or the Parsonage) and upon retirement, had no equity in a home.

Today it is a community with a wide variety of housing options, from homes, to duplexes, patio homes, apartments, assisted living, memory support, and skilled care. It is a beautiful place.

The people are great -and do not let the grass grow beneath their feet. They are auditing classes at Grinnell College, or they are conducting a "bucket class" on astronomy and cosmology at Iowa Valley Community College. (these folks are re-inventing "adult education.") They are crafters, writers, poets, artists, gardeners, travelers, sages, and saints. They even have one of the nicest English-style pubs in the county.

I love the tag line in their radio ad. "Think you know about Mayflower? Think again."

Picking up where we left off... more than 20 years ago

2009-10-10T06:53:00.000-07:00

By a random assignment, four young women were brought together in a dormitory at the University of Iowa. Betsy and Kathy were two doors down, and Barbara and I were in 1214. Throughout the next four years, at least two of us lived together.

Life gets busy when we all go our separate ways at graduation. Barbara to California. Kathy to the Chicago area and I went to Omaha. Making our way into our adult lives takes a lot of time and energy. Despite best intentions, we drifted apart.

All of us are now married and well established in our careers and families. And through Facebook, of all things, we reconnected and planned a reunion for Homecoming Weekend. With Betsy settling in Iowa City to raise a family, it was perfect. I, for one, am secretly jealous of her still living in Iowa City.

How easy it was to be together! Twenty years just fell away and we simply picked up where we left off. I feel like I have three new best friends. We're not waiting another 20 years and in fact, we've already got next year's reunion set for October 1, UI Homecoming 2010.

Is there someone in your past who should be in your present? Find a way to reconnect. Life is short. Find a way to make it happen.

Another view on mind, body, spirit connection...to knitting

2009-09-25T07:12:00.000-07:00

Jenn has a new blog to share, "Namaste & Knitting", bringing together her yoga practice with fiber art. Check her out!
Congrats, Jenn!

Still tied up

2009-09-24T18:44:00.000-07:00

Just finished my first paper for my Center/Learn "History of Christianity" class. Feeling a little smug about it, as a matter of fact...
Early reviews are pretty strong.

"I think it is BEAUTIFUL!"
"Your style and insight are refreshing!"
"Brilliant...academic without being pretentious...deeply thinking, yet accessible."

A little feedback is good...
Okay,full disclosure... the reviews are from three very close friends. I'd like to believe they would not give it to me with both barrels if it was not good. I know they are wonderfully supportive of me and a little biased in my favor, no doubt. But I'll take it.

My paper is on Julian of Norwich and her frequent references to knitting as illustrations of concepts such as the Trinity, being knit together as a faith community, or in relationship with God. (see previous post.)

Knitting has been used in church art for centuries. A Google search of "knitting Madonnas" comes up with a variety of beautiful examples. Our friends at Lion Brand Yarn have a wide selection of e-cards with lovely art that feature knitting, often a child or woman knitting. They also have a knitting madonna, credited there as the oldest image of knitting we know of. Very cool.

Art, knitting, faith...

Even though I've finished with my paper on Julian of Norwich, I'm not finished with Julian. I've just started enjoying getting to know her, and many other Christian women considered mystics. Birgitta of Sweden, Catherine of Siena, Teresa of Avila...

Wonder if those other women knit?

"Julie & Julia" and "Laura & Julian"

2009-09-08T20:39:00.000-07:00

I have been up to my elbows in yarn, using all free moments to knit scarves for the upcoming Mayflower Community Holiday Gift Boutique. Skeins of yarn from stashes all over Mayflower have made their way to my home. I've only made six. The Boutique is Saturday, October 3, in the Friendship Hall at the UCC.

For the same weekend I need to have finished "Christianity" by Roland Bainton, covering the period of church history from The Reformation to today... and my biography on Julian of Norwich, 14th Century English mystic who is largely credited as the first woman to write a book in the English language. Julian was an anchorite, which is sort of like a hermit, only she is "anchored" in the world, rather than separated from it.

Appropriate that I have chosen to study Julian. I've been to Norwich, England a couple of times and the next time I go, I have a new place to visit and enjoy. Also, Julian frequently used knitting as an illustration for intertwining souls, the Trinity, being knit together with God... no wonder I'm so intrigued by her.

What's the best use of my study break time? Try to do two things at once. I seriously thought about taking my knitting to the movies to see "Julie & Julia" with a group of women last week...but decided against it. I can knit at the movies. (I actually have needles with a tiny light in the tip, given to me by a friend. My kids use them mostly for wizard wands...)

Feeling motivated, in a small way, by "Julie & Julia," to start dreaming up my writing assignment about Julian... (Lots of Julia, Julian, Julie derivatives here...)

Julie Powell decides to write a blog and thinks that it would be interesting to make all 500+ recipes in Julia Child's, "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" in one year, and to share her journey in the blogosphere. The film goes back and forth between Julie and Julia at the time Julia is learning to cook and writing her first cookbook. Definitely worth seeing. A great love story, too.

I'm not suggesting that I start following Julian's anchorite lifestyle. I won't lock myself into a cell and spend my days praying, meditating, and writing an incredible book of Revelations. A book that outlines the 16 or so visions that Julian had at a time when she was deathly ill. She survived this incredible illness, even after being given the Last Rites, and at that time decided to become an anchorite.

Even Julie Powell found that something as wonderful as cooking amazing French food 365 days started to test her mettle. And, that sounds much more appealing than solitary confinement.

What I will do is to continue to read about Julian and tackle the Revelations, written in Middle English. Fortunately, I have a friend who can help me decipher the language if I get stuck!

I find that Julian's words are just as relevant today as they were nearly 700 years ago. She lived through the time when the plague ravished England. Life was beyond difficult. And still she believed these words, "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing, shall be well." May it be so.

And on the seventh day...

2009-09-06T18:19:00.000-07:00

Our neighbors are really lovely people. They are retired and enjoy our children coming to visit, to play games, and a good reason to stock plenty of ice cream treats in the freezer. They are more conservative in their views. One Sunday, I mowed the backyard. Looked great and it was a great workout! The next week, my neighbor used his riding mower to cut the back yard on Saturday for me. My guess is that he did it on Saturday, so I wouldn't have to do it on Sunday. He gave me a greater gift than just getting the yard cut. He gave me my Sabbath back. A practice of mine that had fallen by the wayside a few years ago, but my neighbor reminded me through his act of kindness how wonderfully restorative keeping the Sabbath really is.

I realize it is a luxury for many. But for me now, Sunday mornings are workdays at church, and the rest of the day is spent taking a good nap, spending time with my family, reading, knitting, doing anything but work. I've been doing this for several weeks now and it is a great way of keeping a sense of balance in my life. I'm finding it to be just what my soul needs. Imagine that.

This afternoon, Emily and spent a couple of hours curled up sleeping together in the sun. How many more times will I get to do that with my child?

A Long Day's Journey

2009-08-08T08:06:00.000-07:00

Last week, I spent several days with my sister, her husband, and my niece in Minnesota. We do not see each other often, as they live in southeast England and we live in east central Iowa.

My 11-year-old niece has traveled back and forth from England to America numerous times in her life so far.

I wonder what our great-grandparents would think of the ease of international travel these days. In their time, crossing the Atlantic was often a once-in-a-lifetime trip. Thinking of our immigrant family members who said final goodbyes to their families in Sweden because the cost of the passage was so great.

Today, it is a long day's flight, depending on which direction we are traveling. The greatest inconvenience is going through security or customs. It is not the difficult trip by air as it was by ship back in the day. The world is much smaller than it was just 100 years ago and the ease of international travel allows for cousins to spend precious time together growing up.

Forty years

2009-07-20T18:17:00.000-07:00

My dad tells me that he got me out of bed on July 20, 1969, to watch the live shot from the moon. I was just ten days from turning five. Today, 40 years later, it occurs to me that I'm one of those who witnessed it. However, I don't remember it.

I do remember seeing news coverage of Robert Kennedy's assassination the summer before. I do remember the nightly news starting with the words, "Today in Saigon..." I do remember seeing The Beatles sing "Hey, Jude" on The Ed Sullivan Show. Those are some of my earliest memories. Those, and Pastor Greunke's white rabbit fur tie he wore on special occasions, like my sister's baptism.

The photos of Apollo 11 still amaze me and when we know now that my son's hand-held video game had more oomph than the entire lunar module, it really is an unbelievable accomplishment that they made it there, and back, and lived to tell about it.

What's the next amazing thing we will accomplish?

Knit one, purl two, and breathe...

2009-07-06T18:25:00.000-07:00

Breathe... there's a lot of power in this word and the reminder brought to us recently from Leo Babauta on his blog, Zen Habits, is one that I could benefit from reading daily.

My trusted advisor, Liturgy Geek, reminds me of the benefits of knitting during times that require our focused attention. I sat through a particularly interesting General Synod committee meeting last month with two other women, as we knit in the back of the room.

"I usually tell the speaker that I really am listening so they don't think I am ignoring them," said one of the Iowa women sitting with me.

"It allows my mind to focus on the subject if I can keep my hands busy," said the other knitter.

I developed an interest in knitting after spending Iowa Conference board meetings with a knitter-extraordinaire...she used skewers that looked a little larger than toothpicks to knit the cuff of a sleeve. Wow. Could I ever be that good?

After the knitter extraordinaire left the board, I picked up the knitter's place at the table. We were facing difficult times and meetings were very stressful. During a break at one of the board meetings, a older member of the board told me how it helped calm him during meetings. "My mother used to knit and it is very relaxing to me to watch you work the yarn and to listen to the click of the needles."

At General Synod, I think I ripped out the double-eyelet scarf pattern about nine times at until I realized that a more simple double moss stitch would actually work better than a more involved pattern... A more simple pattern allowed a rhythm to develop that was more satisfying and allowed me to breathe better. I'm a new follower to a blog, Holy Knit! who relates a similar story about knitting at General Synod meetings.

Knitting is often yoga for my hands...helping me to breathe into new places in many new ways.

My Country Tis of Thee

2009-07-04T18:18:00.000-07:00

Watching the PBS, "A Capitol Fourth" tonight, the Divine Miss Em quietly began singing, "My Country, Tis of Thee" along with the band on the television.

In her pink pjs, with a fudgesicle in hand, and said fudge around her mouth, the sweetest voice sang along. I guess I didn't realize she knew the song and it was lovely to hear.

Here she is at Yankee Doodle Pops on Thursday night in Des Moines. "Grandpa Scott" Stouffer sitting in front of her...

We're a bi-coastal family tonight. On this Independence Day, John, Dad, my mother and stepfather, are in England with Catherine and to celebrate Julie and Jim's wedding today. July 4 isn't the same in the UK as it is in the US, of course. It will be interesting to hear what John thought about a different kind of celebration today. No burgers, potato salad, watermelon, or sparklers.

But I'm sure there are fireworks of some kind - congratulations to Julia and Jim Elgar.

30 Years On...

2009-06-25T17:49:00.001-07:00

I'm noting an interesting anniversary this week.

June 1979 - I was 14 years old and found myself on a trip to General Synod of the United Church of Christ in Indianapolis. 1979 was the summer I "grew up." Just a few weeks before I left for Indianapolis for the General Synod, my parents announced their divorce and I was wondering how our family would move forward from that point. That trip was the first time I was any distance from my family for a week and that's a good and necessary experience for teenagers to have.

What I didn't realize is how much that trip would impact my life.

Growing up in rural Iowa in the late 70's, there were few, if any, persons of color in my hometown. I know there were gays and lesbians, but they certainly weren't out. At 14, I was introduced to the "heady and exasperating mix" known as the United Church of Christ at the national level. Even though the titles came later, we strive to be a multi-racial, multi-cultural, open and affirming, just-peace church. We believe that God is still speaking and that another world is possible. It was a wonderful way for this small-town girl to be introduced to the wider world beyond media stereotypes.

And now, 30 years later, I'm enjoying my eighth General Synod. This time as an associate delegate because of my role as the chair of the board of directors for the Iowa Conference. This church is a very large part of my life. So many of my most foundational relationships have come from my belonging to this church. these relationships qualify as "chosen" family.

God is good, all the time.....all the time, God is good.

Wow, You are my age.

2009-06-25T17:21:00.000-07:00

I met Rev. Geoffrey Black tonight, the candidate for the President and General Minister of the United Church of Christ tonight. Maybe it's because I'm older. My boss is my age. My physician is younger than me. The First Lady, Michelle Obama, is my age. President Obama is only a few years older than me. And now, the next President and General Minister of the UCC, my church, is a contemporary.

I can relate to that. Very cool.

And the hate goes on...

2009-06-12T04:30:00.000-07:00

About ten years ago, I had a pastor who shared the theory that humans were at the end of their "teenage" years. Makes sense when you think about the vast history of human evolution. The teen years are visceral, passionate, filled with hormonal emotion. Teens tend to be impulsive, to believe they are immortal and indestructable. They act first and then think. They say incredible things without any filter.

For thousands of years, the human race has been solving conflicts through war, hate-filled words, segregation (the cool kids sit at their own table at lunch) and the condemnation of anyone who doesn't fit in.

As adults we cringe when we hear how mean teenagers can be to each other. But, the examples we are setting are more serious and harmful. Here's a situation my close friend Arlene is dealing with. Anti-gay messages full of hate, targeted at others. The assassination of Dr. George Tiller. The 88 year old neo-Nazi who walked into the National Holocaust Museum and killed a guard at point-blank range. There is nothing noble in this. There is nothing that advances the human race through these hate-filled actions.

My hope is that this is the end. That enough people have evolved into young adulthood who begin to hold the rebellious, hell-raising teens accountable for their hate. My fear is that they will not "go quietly into that good night." The teens realize they are quickly being outnumbered and they are very, very afraid. My fear is that things are going to get much worse before they get better. It's up to us to hold the line and not let these domestic terrorists continue to push their hate-filled agenda and actions on anyone else.

It's up to us to bring our children into a new world, populated with young adults who are more idealistic in our world view. As the saying goes, "another world is possible."

This Facebook Thing

2009-05-09T18:53:00.000-07:00

I am rather in awe of this thing called Facebook. When I first started this journey last summer, I was amazed by people who had more than 100 friends. I don't know that many people, or so I thought...

From the first person who "friended" me, I was hooked. I found an old friend from church camp and then U of Iowa days whom I had not been in contact with in a million years. And, it snowballed from there. It's hard to explain to someone who hasn't jumped on the Facebook wagon, but I think it is unbelievable.

Last night, I found a college roommate whom I haven't been in touch with for more than 15 years. We're planning on getting together in Iowa City for homecoming this year and it is our motivation to get other college friends together.

I shrieked the night that a childhood friend who moved from Red Oak to Colorado when we were in junior high appeared as a friend. Nearly 30 years and wondered what had ever happened to her and her family.

Today, I list 173 "friends" from every world of my life. It is bizarre when a kindergarten classmate and my yoga teacher comment on the same status update..."when worlds collide" takes on an entirely differnt meaning.

I think I've got the hang of Facebook now. Time to figure out Twitter...

Rethinking Stereotypes

2009-04-27T06:02:00.000-07:00

LiturgyGeek's post from prom 2009 is a "Spot of Good News."

Here's what I find interesting...and maybe there's a sociologist that can study this one and get back to me. My good friend LiturgyGeek grew up in California. I grew up in rural southwest Iowa. She's ten years younger than I am. She grew up with two moms. I didn't even know what being gay meant until I was 15 years old because our town was pretty insulated and it just wasn't obvious to me.

My stereotype of LiturgyGeek - California, New York, Berkeley... and what I know about her life experiences so far gives me a picture of a progressive, liberal woman who actively works for civil rights and social justice.

A stereotype of me is pretty much stalwart Midwesterner...Iowa, University of Iowa, Omaha, back to Iowa... never lived anywhere else, never really wanted to. But, I also see myself as a progressive, liberal woman doing what I can to support civil rights and social justice.

The difference is that we expect it from someone who has lived life on the coasts in urban areas...we don't expect it from someone who has lived squarely in the middle of corn, soybeans, and pigs.

Isn't it interesting that today in Iowa, same-sex couples can legally get married and in California, that window was open ever so briefly last year and is now (hopefully temporarily) closed.

A Faithful Pilgrim Continues to Lead by Example

2009-03-27T15:53:00.000-07:00

A small group of our middle schoolers met at our church this week with their moms. We had two fifth grade boys and one seventh grade boy take part in a Faith Stepping Stone for this age group on the Passover, Communion, and living a forgiven and forgiving lifestyle. It was a great class and a meaningful experience.

On Tuesday night, we closed the evening with prayer. We shared our concerns and in particular, we lifted up our 97-year-old member, Homer. He is near the end of his life, with family surrounding him, singing hymns to this wonderful retired pastor, veteran, and a servant of God. "A pilgrim leading the rest of us on the journey..." as one friend describes him. The pastor says she's just waiting for the phone to ring.

We all prayed for Homer, these three boys from age 9 to 13, and their moms. Within moments of closing the prayer, the phone rang. The air left the room. The pastor excused herself and the rest of us talked somewhat nervously among ourselves. When the pastor returned to the group, one of the boys said, "I know this is really not my business, but, was that about Homer?" No, another member of our church had surgery that afternoon and they were just reporting that things went well.

We then ended the evening with a celebration of Communion. The elements placed on a small table, we stood in a circle and the boys gave the Words of Institution as they remembered, with the adults filling in as needed.

It struck me how Homer would be so pleased to witness this Sacrament. These wonderful boys in that in-between place from boys to teenagers who were praying for him, concerned about him. These boys had never had such an intimate experience of Communion and I felt privileged to be a part of it.

I shared this story the next day with my friend Bob at lunch. Bob happens to be the administrator at Mayflower Community, where Homer lives. Bob is one of those people who tell me who I am in a way that I cannot walk away from. Bob told me that I needed to go and tell Homer the story. Yes, he's nonresponsive, but he just may hear you, and his family will want to know this story. "And Laura, this is not about you." He's right.

I felt led to Homer's room, to visit with his daughter in the hallway to ask if it was okay for me to visit with Homer. I shared the story with her and we both were overcome with tears. I wondered if I would be able to actually get the words out of my mouth when I was with him.

However, as I sat down by his bed, I felt a sense of calm and peace. I laid my hand on his arm and told him the story as if he were smiling that signature smile we will not forget. This man, this servant of God, continued to bless us all by his presence. I prayed with him, for him, and for the boys who lifted him up in prayer and concern.

When I had finished, the daughters were smiling through their tears and said that he was most interested in his ministry living on after him. I don't think that will be a problem.

One of the daughters remarked that I got through the story without choking up. I said, "I don't think it was me doing the talking."

Earlier that morning, I was feeling sorry for myself. I was frustrated and tired. There is so much heartache surrounding my close friends and families these days. But, that afternoon, I was blessed by a dying man, simply by his presence.

Rev. Homer Perry died later that night, March 26, 2009, at the age of 97. My son John offered this prayer when he learned the news, "God please welcome Homer and I hope he travels safely." Homer is home, just where he's been waiting to be.

Outraged?

2009-03-20T07:41:00.000-07:00

"It's an outrage!"

Yeah, it is an outrage that companies who took bailout money from the Government gave a good chunk of it to the geniuses that ran the company into the ground. Where's their sense of morals and decency?!? The unmitigated gall!

Here's what I'm outraged about...there are thousands of people who have to choose daily between buying their medications or buying food. There are elderly couples who will cut their pills in half or share the medications to avoid the extra cost - doing neither of them any good. Might as well not spend the money on the prescription at all.

I'm outraged that we have some of the best healthcare in the world, and if you don't have health insurance, you can't get it. The need for safety net programs is rapidly rising at a time when community clinics are losing revenue. That's outrageous.

There are people in New Orleans, the Mississippi coast, Texas, who all these years later are still relying on church youth groups to rebuild after hurricanes. There are people in Iowa who are still dealing with the damage from last year's catastrophic flooding - homes, business, libraries, schools, universities.

Our government tortured people in our name, knowingly lead us into a war sending our loved ones into harm's way to settle a score, spied on innocent Americans, all in the name of patriotism. And we are silent. That's outrageous.

I suggest that if We, The People, had the same level of outrage for abuses of basic human rights as we seem to have over this bonus situation, we could really make a change in the world for the better. Yes, the bonuses are outrageous, but more outrageous than children and families in your Anytown, USA going to bed hungry every night?

The World's Wilderness Journey

2009-03-04T18:37:00.000-08:00

Lent is such a struggle for me.

I'm so much more of an Advent person. I find such transformative power during Advent with its themes of joy, hope, peace, and love. The mystery, the light shining in the darkness, the music...

I was pregnant with our children during Advent and identify so strongly with Mary's journey because of it. Birthing hope, I get that. It is deeply affirming for me.

But Lent.... seems to be about my totally imperfect self, sin, and introspection, and giving things up, and guilt, and fasting, and discipline, and...ugh. I recognize that we have to slog through Lent, to experience the range of emotions that is Holy Week, in order to truly live out the glory of Easter.

No matter where you go these days, it is difficult to find a corner of one's life free from stress. Sure, a reasonable amount of stress is alright, but the constant barrage of gloom and doom on the news, at work, even in our houses of worship where budgets are having to be cut to size is more than a little depressing. It's like the entire world is wandering in the wilderness being taunted by the Devil. And perhaps, that's not a bad analogy of the past few years. The Mardi Gras-style spending and consumerism with hurricanes, parades, and beads, gave way almost overnight to fasting, introspection, and serving ramen noodles at dinner parties.

We know how Lent ends. We know that things got worse for Jesus before they got better. We know the Resurrection promise that transformed the world on Easter morning is coming. Maybe this year I'm finding more relevance in my Lenten experience because it is echoing what is happening in my life. I'm finding more comfort in my meditation and prayer because I know this time will pass, that things will get better, that we will find our way out of the wilderness and be better for it. The promise of Easter and all that it holds, gives me the hope to look forward to what God has in store.

Don't wait. The time will never be just right.

2009-02-24T11:07:00.000-08:00

This quote from Napoleon Hill, sent to me by HeartMath, was a shocking wake up call to me this morning.

Ever have one of those days when someone says something to you that answers a question, calls you to action, or makes you rethink a decision you thought you had made?

This was one of those moments because it went along with a question I read earlier in the week:
Where do you see yourself in the next 5 - 10 years? Who are you with? Where do you live? What do you do?

I've seen this before many times, but not recently. Not when I stop to think about where I was in my life 10 years ago. I have another child now. I live in a completely different community. I have worked in five different job arrangements since then. I have met scores of new friends. I have reconnected with some dear old friends. I have had financial and relationship difficulties.

As I am ten days from our ten-year-old son turning 11, I am thunder-struck by the notion that in 10 years, our son will be an adult, 21, and likely in his third year of college. Our daughter will turn eight the week after her brother, and she will be an 18-year-old high school senior. Not that I didn't know this wasn't coming, but it feels like I'm the winning coach of the Big Game and my players have just dumped the cooler of Gatorade on my head!

The previous post talked about taking a risk and really focusing on what is important in your life. I have seven to ten years left of my children in my house. There's so much left to do. So, I'm not going to wait when it comes to them. I don't want to have another wake up call like this ten years from now and have regrets.

What are you waiting for? Are you waiting for the right person to come along? Are you waiting for the right job? Waiting to lose weight? Will you be happy when this happens? Why wait for happiness, satisfaction, or feeling like life is not passing you by? Remember, the time will never be just right. Start now.

Taking a Risk

2009-02-21T08:20:00.000-08:00

In yesterday's post from "zen habits," guest blogger Jonathan Mead challenges us to have the courage to stop caring so much about things that really don't matter. He suggests that it's these little things that soak up our energy and obscures our path to living our dreams. Letting go of those things that really don't matter is worth the fear of uncertainty. Mead refers to it as taking a step without knowing what, if anything will be under our feet.

In my family, this kind of unhelpful caring about little unnecessary things is what we call worrying about potential problems, and we have made an art form out of it. "Well, what if this happens? Then what will we do?" That'll keep you stuck in the rut of fear. I know first-hand by personal experience and then watching others do exactly the same. Habits, even bad ones, are hard to break even if we know they are bad for us. The behavior is familiar, we know what happens, we are comfortable in the pattern. That's why change is so hard. When we make changes, we don't know what's going to happen next, and that level of uncertainty is scary enough to make us stay right where we are, thank you very much... for better or worse.

But before I begin to consider stepping out of my comfort zone, I have to answer the question, what are my dreams? What is my passion? What dreams am I risking my happiness for? Because that's exactly what's at risk. We think we are happy now, but if we were really living our dreams, wouldn't we be happier than we are right now?

A quote from author Leo Buscaglia encourages me to be a little risky, because I am risk-avoidant thinking that being the one everyone can always count on is my God-given role. Leo says, "If I kept both feet firmly planted on the ground at all times, I'd never get my pants on." Okay, I get it.

What is your passion? What are your dreams? What were you meant to do with your life?
What joy are you risking by living by your fears rather than your dreams?

Surprises of Life

2009-02-01T12:59:00.000-08:00

"Into all our lives, in many simple, familiar ways, God infuses an element of joy from the surprises of life, which unexpectedly brighten our days." Samuel Longfellow

A week ago, our son John had appendicitis. It was an "atypical" presentation.

He had pain once.

Because the biggest thing that helps physicians diagnose appendicitis is pain, we went for a week believing he had a bout of stomach flu. In fact, it is usually unnecessary for patients to have a CT scan and blood work to diagnose appendicitis. With John, it was the only way to find out. He actually walked from the doctor's office to the hospital to the lab, up to radiology, and into the surgery department. Most people would be doubled over in pain and would be wheeled into surgery.

"John, on a scale of zero to ten, where zero is totally without pain and ten is the absolute worst pain you have ever had, where would you say your pain is right now?" the nurse asked him as he sat in pre-op.

"Oh, probably a two," replied John.

"Are you sure?"

"Okay, maybe two and a half."

What started out as a regular follow up visit to the doctor turned into a tour of hospital departments and a weekend at the hospital. A surprise of life.

And the joy that came from this surprise came in many ways. From my co-workers who heard the news spreading through the hospital that Friday afternoon. A bouquet of sunshine-colored flowers in his room when he arrived. Those who came and sat with us during his surgery or stopped in to give a hug. My great PR teammates who got a gift certificate from the hospital deli so I didn't have to think about an evening meal. To church members who cared for Emily, the PEO's who brought in meals, and John's friends who stopped by to bring a gift and a smile.

There were many elements of joy in a stressful time. A time that reminds you of the wide-reaching network of support that is there when needed. That's a time when you feel humbled, blessed, and grateful for the people in your life, and I certainly am.

A National Holiday?

2009-01-16T09:52:00.000-08:00

Shouldn't Inauguration Day be a national holiday? Maybe it is and I just didn't get it in my work schedule. MSNBC asks me, "Where will you be when Barack Obama is sworn in as the nation's 44th President?" And I have to reply, "At work...with the rest of us who are still hanging on to our jobs."

I've never heard of house parties, open houses, and inauguration day brunches like I have this year. And I am going to miss all the fun! I'm still going to wear my spiffy Obama campaign button earrings that my pal gave me. Although, I don't think they will fly at my morning job. They will work for my afternoon job when I'm on God's payroll. (thanks Liturgy Geek for that reference!)

At Sunday School this week, we'll be celebrating the United Church of Christ's long heritage of social justice. Honoring the 80th anniversary of Rev. Dr. ML King and the historic inauguration of one of our own, Barack Obama. (We know that you had no other choice, Barack and Michelle. You are still UCC as far we're concerned.)

What are you doing to mark this amazing alignment of the stars? I feel like wearing red, white, and blue again, but will choose rainbow colors because it's got to be about more than just US right now. We have to finally take our place as citizens of the world.

Zen Habits and the Power of Less

2009-01-14T16:11:00.000-08:00

A few months ago, I stumbled upon a blog, Zen Habits, written by Leo Babauta. Check it out if you have any interest in living better with less...less stuff, less stress, less anxiety about what lies ahead.

I like the way Leo writes and I like his philosophy on life. You might too.

The Frozen View

2009-01-14T16:06:00.000-08:00

Wow. It is really cold. Well, for Iowa anyway. It's been a while since I've posted and I've just not been inspired to write a post. Maybe my inspiration is frozen or it has left me for a long overdue winter vacation to Fiji or Florida. I should be so lucky.

So far, my New Year's "intentions" are going well. I sacrificed a fitness class tonight for a haircut. I do have my priorities.

How are your New Year's resolutions/new habits/intentions coming along? Still on track?

Think Potential, Not Penitence

2008-12-31T15:15:00.000-08:00

"We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives...not looking for flaws, but for potential." - Ellen Goodman

New Year's resolutions remind me of things my friends would give up for Lent. We could resist chocolate for 40 days, but could hardly wait for the chocolate bunny in the basket. About New Year's, Mark Twain said, "Now is the time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week, you can begin paving hell with them as usual."

My resolutions this year are to be more present and to appreciate more of the simple joys that I experience every day. I will continue my resolution to be better to myself than I have been, caring for my inner child as if she were my own daughter. I also resolve to let people that I love and care about know that I care about them, regularly, frequently, hourly if needed.

Here's a toast to the journey with all its twists and turns. The challenges and the pain and the joy that surprises us when we least expect it. From the bittersweet moments of watching children grow up before our eyes, and seeing our older loved ones changing, those of us in the middle of our journey seem to be pulling more of our load these days than we did 20 years ago. If for those reasons alone, we should resolve to be our own best friends and stop being so hard on ourselves. Let's resolve to set down the baggage we've been carrying around and unload the 800-pound gorilla from our back and continue on without them. I wish you the peace that will certainly come from leaving all that behind.

Lots of people make predictions for the year to come. I don't know what's ahead and wouldn't dare to venture a guess. What I know for sure is that it will be different than it is today and I'm staying open to what comes next. I wish for you all the promise that a New Year can bring, with no regrets.

"Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each New Year find you a better man." - Benjamin Franklin

Hospital Hospitality

2008-12-29T09:54:00.000-08:00

http://http://toddlinden.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas-spirit.html

Not hard to see why these words are spelled similarly when you read this. I'm proud to be an employee of Grinnell Regional Medical Center.

Children of the Heavenly Father

2008-12-28T13:37:00.000-08:00

The power of music is potent, particularly in a worship setting,
particularly on Christmas Eve. There are few who don't get through a
Christmas Eve service without a catch in their throat as the
congregation sings "Silent Night," especially in a sanctuary with only
the glow of candlelight. I'm certainly one of those people and I try
to harmonize in an effort to keep from getting too blubbery and
embarassing myself.

This year, there was a new song in the Christmas Eve line-up. It's
not a carol, but a Swedish cradle song that is nearly guaranteed to
bring any grown man raised in a Swedish community to tears.

"Children of the Heavenly Father" is a sweet and lovely lullaby that is
traditionally heard at Swedish funerals in these parts. When the
small family group rose to sing this song as the service started,
I knew I was in trouble. I held my own with only my chin
trembling, until they sang the last verse... in Swedish. That was it.
The tears flowed and it was so beautiful. The family who sang are
people my family has known for generations.

The song speaks to the children of God who are lovingly cared for as a
father loves his children. It is a beautiful song that is comforting
to those who mourn and hearing it at Christmas was a way to hear the
words in a new context. The realiziation that we are children of God,
just as Jesus is a child of God.

For a short time, I worked for a Lutheran nonprofit organization,
Bethphage Mission. The original mission was started by Lutheran women
in Axtell, Nebraska, who dedicated their lives to ministry in a way
similar to Catholic nuns. They provided a home for children and
adults with developmental disabilities. I remember a story told to me
by the chaplain there, who being new to the community, found a new
hymn to sing during a chapel service. He was surprised when most of
the residents and the sisters wept openly through the hymn. The
pastor, of German American heritage, was distressed as well and asked
one of the sisters what had happened after the service was over. She
lovingly explained to him that the only time many of the residents had
ever heard "Children of the Heavenly Father" was when someone had
died.

My uncle Riley, grew up in the Augustana Lutheran Church and joined
the Episcopal Church as an adult. When he died in his late 60's, the
priest of the Anglo-Catholic parish he was a member of, presided over
a dramatic requiem mass that Riley would have loved. For us, it was
foreign territory and as family, it felt a little like the rest of the
congregation was having the healing experience we were looking for.
That is, until the organist began to play, "Children of the Heavenly
Father." That's when our catharsis began. Many Swedish Americans
will half jokingly tell you that it isn't a funeral until they play
that song.

For many Swedish families, Christmas Eve service at midnight is the
pinnacle of the holiday. It was the night my family spent with my
Swedish grandparents having meatballs, herring, and a Swedish custardy
cheesecake known as ostkaka. Those spirits of Christmases past seem
to hover closely on Christmas Eve. Their presence is as strong as our
melancholy can be. Hearing this beloved cradle song at church that night brought them to
the place where we were on the most holy night of all.

Hijacked by God

2008-12-11T19:13:00.000-08:00

I've been contemplating getting into formal ministry since I was 15. Something else always came up and I told myself that God needed good lay people as much as clergy.

Since October, I've been the interim Christian Education coordinator at our church. For years, I have done pulpit supply, written and edited the monthly newsletter, served on every board, lead as moderator - even through a successful open & affirming process, and lovingly dubbed as "the pope." But this is only the second time I've ever been paid by the church to do a job. The first time was as the nursery attendant when I was in the fifth grade.

I took on this CE role in the hopes that some wonderful person would emerge from the search process and feel called to be the permenant director. With two children in the program, I have a vested interest. I offered to do it for three months since we had planned on having a new person in the job in January.

My full-time job even cooperated to allow me to work 36 hours a week for the time being so that I could spend an afternoon at the church. But without a real Sabbath day, I was getting burned out. Last Sunday, I had my speech ready to tell the pastor and the CE board chair that I was tired and would not be able to continue into January.

And then, I was hijacked. God used people in my job to find a way so that I had no choice but to apply for the 20 hour job and go part time in my "real" job. If you were in church this past week or following along at home, you may recall Isaiah admonishing us that we do not know the time, or the place, but we must be ready. God has opened the door of the airplane at 10,000 feet and has shoved me out with the parachute and has said, "Finally! I've been trying to get you to fly since you were 15!"

The first 24 hours were terrifying. But I am constantly reminded of the times that I have taken a small step from my comfort zone, God has provided for me. Another step, God is there. It's still scary, but it is starting to feel pretty good. Advent is about waiting, about preparing, about hope and about what is to come. Advent just got very interesting.

Micky's, Burgers, and Hawkeye Basketball

2008-11-15T13:51:00.000-08:00

I had a date last night with my favorite Hawk fan, my 10-year-old son, John. It was the home-opener for the Iowa men's basketball team and I decided we should go.

He's pretty proud of the fact that every Iowa game he's attended, football or basketball, the team has won. He considers it his personal responsibility to provide his good luck and charm to the game. And, he is pretty charming.

As important as the game, is the pre-game tradition of going to Micky's Irish Pub in Iowa City. I'm old enough now that my college hang-out has a children's menu. Maybe they always did and I was just never there early enough for kids? It is a little surreal to be having burgers with my ten-year-old son in a place with entirely different memories. I do like it though.

We carry on the tradition set out by Grandpa Phil, putting a hex on the other team's players as they stand at the free-throw line. I can hear him cackling when the ball chunks off the rim and doesn't make it. I can hear him sing along to "On Iowa" and announcing on fall Saturday mornings that it's "GAME DAY!" He and Johnny would have a lot of fun together. And somewhere in whatever his heaven may be, he is enjoying this next generation of Hawk fan.

2008-11-14T12:53:00.001-08:00

"Two are better than one...for if they fall, one will lift up the other." - Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

This past week, I have been privileged to be a part of a series of events honoring and remembering our nation's veterans, particularly our veterans of World War II.

Over the year, I have been a part of Grinnell's Community Education Council that took on the idea of commemorating our WWII veterans this year. I was not a part of the task force that did the heavy lifting for the planning of this week of activities, but attended the activities as I could.

It was a humbling and emotional experience.

On Tuesday, another woman on the council who is a contemporary of mine and I pinned small red, white, and blue ribbons on any veteran who came to the community's annual Veteran's Day Ceremony. A small group of the high school band played patriotic music and marches as people filed in. Neither of us were prepared for the rush of emotions we felt simply asking men and women if they were veterans. To be honest, it was all I could do to choke out the question. And they were so proud of this small little token that they thanked me. They thanked me, when the whole purpose was to thank them.

One veteran in particular looked to be fifty-something. He wasn't expecting me to ask him if he was a veteran and I offered to pin the ribbon on his sweatshirt that read, "United States Marine Corps." He smiled broadly, and said he was. There was a sense that he might not have felt that kind of gratitude for what he had done before.

After the ceremony was over, and I was one of the last few out the door, the veteran was standing outside the building in the rain. And he made a point of thanking me again for what I had done for him. I said, "No, thank you for what you have done for me."

On Friendship

2008-11-02T12:01:00.000-08:00

"In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the human spirit." - Albert Schweitzer

I am so fortunate to have people like this in my life. They may or may not be the people I encounter in my daily life. They may or may not be people I know. I've been inspired by the stories of those who meet incredible challenges and help me to put my own into perspective. Or they are those individuals that beat the odds to achieve a dream.

There are those people who know me well, who sing my song to me when I have forgotten the tune. I sing with a women's a capella quartet. We get our starting note from a pitch pipe and then our leader hums our note for us up the chord. Each of us has to know our note, to sing our own part of the song for the harmony to happen. If one of us is slightly off, sharp or flat, the harmony isn't there and its not quite right. The feeling of disharmony is uncomfortable.

In order for harmony to work, we must sing different notes and sing them out to support the others. If we all sang the same tune, its a nice unison, but it isn't quite as beautiful and doesn't have the depth of each of us singing our own part of the harmony.

Isn't that interesting? In order for this incredible human sound to occur, we have to be strong in our individuality, to sing our own song.

There are many I have encountered in my life that rekindle that human spirit in me. Some are no more than passing strangers. Others are tightly woven in the daily threads of my life. And there are others who dwell in my spirit. There are those who have enriched me beyond explanation and words. Today we celebrated All Saint's Day, giving thanks and memory to those who have gone before us. I have many saints in my life and I am so very grateful for every one of them.

Oh to be in England, now that October is here

2008-10-23T11:36:00.000-07:00

The phrase is actually, "Oh to be in England, now that spring is here..."

I've had the pleasure of being in England in late October a few times and look back on those days very fondly. I am one of those people who look forward to fall and to the return of sweaters, a warm fireplace, and a hot cup of tea. Add a good book, knitting, or even better, great company, and I am in heaven.

This works for me anywhere, but, especially in England.

Our family members there include my lovely niece, my sister and her intended, my first brother-in-law and his family. Over the past 16 years, we've visited them when we can in southeast England, Suffolk. October is my favorite month of the year, and one of my favorite months to visit England.

On a cold, rainy, dark day like today, my imagination takes me on a mental vacation to England. A couple of locations come quickly to mind. Cambridge and the growing twilight surrounding King's College Chapel. Sitting in the chapel and listening to Evensong. An afternoon of antique shopping in Clare and taking tea near the oak-timbered fireplace of The Bell. The early evening bustle of London at Trafalgar Square and a wonderful meal before taking in a play.

Transforming Iowa into Ipswich, Norfolk, Cambridge, or London, isn't easy to do, but anything is possible in our imaginations. My corner of England is off-the-beaten path, not a heavy tourist location, and that's just fine with me. People ask you to repeat yourself because Americans just aren't that common in this corner of England. I rather like that.

When your autumn day is grey, overcast, and otherwise feeling nasty, take a mental vacation to England and find yourself with a warm fire, a spot of sherry, and a cup of tea. Don't forget to bring along your favorite person and enjoy the time away from the everyday. Let's go now.

Still Crazy After All These Years

2008-10-20T19:16:00.000-07:00

This esteemed group of 40-somethings, minus the boy in front, all met as teenagers through youth events, camps, and retreats, of the Iowa Conference of the United Church of Christ.

After all this time, we came together for the celebration of the 20th anniversary of Rev. Dr. Arlene Nehring's ordination in Reinbeck, Iowa. Arlene is in the front, blue shirt standing next to me.

Next to me is Kim with my son John. And that's Jim on the far right. Mark and Sally are in the back on each side with Ar's twin, Mar, in between. (Was I always this short?)

We developed a bond, a friendship beyond friendship, into love and chosen family. For Ar, Kim, and I, it's about being sisters. We've been there for every major life event no matter where we were. That is until last week. Arlene and her partner of 16 years, Stephanie, were married at Eden UCC in Hayward, CA, where Ar is the senior pastor. Both Kim and I had to make the difficult decision to not attend. Family and work schedules and finances kept us from being witness to Arlene and Stephanie's wedding. It felt weird as Ar said, that we weren't together for this major occasion.

Arlene and Stephanie met through church, just like the rest of us. What an amazing Spirit that has brought us into each other's lives and what an amazing experience we've shared over the past 30 plus years. Biology can physically create a family, but its love makes us a family.

The Road Not Taken

2008-10-12T12:16:00.000-07:00

"Turning 40 was a peak: I could look forward and I could look back, and I had to start thinking about the things I wanted to do."

Thanks to the insightful person who wrote that. I wish I knew.

Standing in the "middle years" of one's life affords us a long view of where we've been, decisions made, adventures taken, accomplishments that fulfill dreams. It's a time to re-evaluate, to determine "what's next." When we get to this place in our lives, our experience teaches us that some opportunities only come by once. Bonnie Raitt said it well, "life gets mighty precious when there's less of it to waste."

As a younger adult, the world lay before me and all I had was time. The choices I made didn't seem as consequential as they do today. We spend time as youth figuring how who we are and what we want to do with our lives and who we will share it with.

I've been challenged to write about pretty ponies on rainbows - chasing unicorns and life being all sunshine and lollipops. However, I like the image of the ruby slippers and how Dorothy spends 90-minutes on a journey through Oz desperately looking for a way home, a place she really didn't want to be until she couldn't figure out how to get back there. It isn't until the very end of her journey that she is told that she always had the power to go home, to control her own destiny. How often we wish things were different in our lives, our careers, our relationships and come to the realization that we always had the power to make the changes. Life can have more sunshine and ponies on rainbows if we make it so by clicking our heels together and believing it to be true.

October continues to be a melancholy time, a time for reflection and looking ahead, revisiting those moments that have been mountaintop experiences. I've come to a place where I realize that some of my dreams aren't going to come true and that's okay. It's now about finding new dreams for what comes next and I realize there are more options for me today than there were before. I'm learning from life-changing missed opportunities and finding my voice to share myself more, to feel more empowered and confident about what the future holds for me. Those feelings of sadness and regret will still be there and I'll nurse those carefully for now. There's much more yet to do and I'm eager to collect those opportunities that are beginning to rise for me. Its a wild ride and I am excited about what lies ahead.

And When October Goes

2008-10-12T11:37:00.000-07:00

I love October - it is my favorite month and always has been. The colors, the early evenings, the turning of the leaves... it's wonderful. I find I am rather sentimental about October. It evokes a time of reflection as the calendar year winds down and another school year begins.

There were a few times I walked back to my apartment on Lincoln Avenue from the music building in Iowa City around sunset in the fall. I purposely walked through the residential neighborhood not only because it was shorter in distance, but fed my desire for "home" and the warm glow of windows at dusk. I sang a song to myself as I walked, this lovely song that Barry Manilow put music to and Johnny Mercer wrote the lyrics for. It fits the melancholy mood of October so very well. And, it seems very appropriate today.

"When October Goes"
And when October goes
the snow begins to fly
above the smoky roofs
I watch the planes go by.
The children running home
beneath a twilight sky.
Oh, for the fun of them
when I was one of them.
And when October goes
the same old dream appears
and you are in my arms
to share the happy years
I turn my head away to hide
the helpless tears
Oh how I hate to see October go
I should be over it now, I know
It doesn't matter much
how old I grow
I hate to see October go.

I Spent a Week There One Day...

2008-10-12T11:23:00.001-07:00

Last week, my family and I traveled from Omaha to Salt Lake City on Amtrak. It was quite an adventure. I highly recommend it on a few conditions. You must be very flexible with your travel schedule because delays, significant delays, are common. You must be patient. (see previous.) If you are traveling through amazing scenery, it negates the other two.

After a ton of people boarded the train last Sunday at Glenwood Springs, Colorado - a picturesque mountain resort if there ever was one - we started on the trek to Denver with the plan to arrive by 8:30 a.m. Unfortunately, just past Winter Park, a freight train in front of our train broke down. It's a single rail up there and we had to pull off until the freight train could be moved. We rolled into Denver at 2 a.m. Those passengers who had not planned on spending the night on the train were in the middle of a bad dream. And that's unfortunate because they won't be riding the train again any time soon. Improving Amtrak is a chicken and egg kind of thing. More people need to ride to garner the funds to improve but more people won't ride if trains end up delayed so significantly. The orginal timetable brought us back to Omaha at 6:15 a.m. on Monday morning. We didn't arrive until 4 p.m.

I'll ride again though. It was relaxing and so very different from airline travel these days. No one assumed I was a terrorist because I had shampoo in my carry on bag. No one interrogated me about my plans and I was allowed to walk around the train from car to car. No seat belts, no getting show-horned into my seat and out. It was actually a very pleasant adventure.

snip

2008-09-27T06:13:00.000-07:00

Wednesday morning, my 7 year old daughter walked nonchalantly into my bedroom. When I saw that her bangs had been cut to about one-half inch, my response was anything but. however, I managed to stay cool, knowing that getting angry wasn't going to grow those bangs out in time for the big family wedding we're going to next week... a few deep breaths and go to neutral.

Emily is strong-willed, independent, and its really pretty much all about her, like a lot of 7 year old girls. Those traits will serve her well, I remind myself, when she's an adult. With a healthy dose of maturity and experience in her court, that tenacity and spirit will pay off in spades for her when she can temper it and use it to her advantage. Girls are so quickly shushed and their free spirits become inhibited in our culture.

But for now, she's having an effect on my hair too. I think every gray hair on my head has her name on it. Another great girl to raise to be a great woman. Thank you God for the responsibility you have placed in my hands.

525,600 minutes

2008-09-16T15:53:00.000-07:00

I attended Larry's memorial service last week. Only one of two I've attended that have been truly spiritual experiences. Larry and my late best friend Ron would have had a lot to talk about. Their love of theater as their calling in life.

The opening music at Larry's memorial was a beautiful, legato rendition of "Comedy Tonight." Yes, the same one you've heard Zero Mostel bellowing in "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum." This was poigant and very touching. "Tragedy tomorrow, a comedy tonight." And it was. Theater people who can pull off comedy are a special breed. It was "Larry's Open Mic Night" and for 90 minutes, we heard some of the most amazing stories that made us all laugh and touched us to tears.

It's not that I knew Larry well. But I felt like I did. He reminded me of many of my friends from college and my early adulthood. It brought back memories of my college days, and I got melancholy thinking of people who were so important to me at a critical time in my life who are on the periphery of my life today or only in my memory.

Ron died at age 35 of cancer. I'd been with him for it all. When he discovered the first lump and was too scared to tell his parents because his sister had only died two years before from cancer. I was there when he was "cured" and then when he found another lump, and then the last that eight years after the initial diagnosis would take his life.

Ron knew he was dying so his funeral could be the theatrical masterpiece of his career. And it was. It was like every heart-wrenching, half-a-box of Kleenex movies, you've ever seen. It was "Terms of Endearment" and "Field of Dreams" and any other movie that stays with you for years. Those who spoke, the entire wall of floral tributes, the poster-sized professional portrait taken when he was healthy and well seemed to be something so well orchestrated that there was nothing but joy left by the time we had cried out every ounce of pain.

He asked us to play, "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" at his graveside, because "nothing will keep me, keep me from you."

But the song that changed my future outlook was "Seasons of Love" from the Broadway musical, "Rent."

"How do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets,
in midnights, in cups of coffee.
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife?
In five-hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes?
How do you measure, a year in the life?"

Ron lived the belief that life was precious. His younger sister died at 19 from cancer and since that time, he lived every day as fully as he possibly could. His message was to live as if every day were your last and live with no regrets.

When we remember those who die before their time, it is hard to consider that maybe they lived the life they were meant to live. How do you measure a year in the life? Could it be about how much you have loved others and told them so? Ron's message and the lesson from Larry's sudden passing is to not take anyone you love for granted. Tell those people who are important to you that they matter and that your life has been richer for them. And then live that way. It's the very best tribute you can give.

When it really matters

2008-09-06T06:11:00.000-07:00

Living in a small town means that it is nearly impossible to go to the Fareway grocery store without running into at least one person you could have a conversation with. Even if it is a total stranger. Small-town folks are like that.

One of the downsides is that it is nearly impossible to go to the grocery store and not see someone you know. There's no anonymity in a small-town. If you get picked up for running a red light, your name will be published in the police blotter in the newspaper. People know your business in ways that it isn't true in larger communities. To those who aren't used to that, it's like living in a fishbowl.

This is exactly the kind of thing that makes small towns like a soap opera. Everyone knows everyone else's details of their lives. But when a tragedy happens, that's when our fishbowl-life is a good life to have.

This week, members of the community have rallied around the family that reports, edits, and publishes our town's twice-weekly newspaper. It is an independent, family-run business and Mom and Dad in their mid-to-upper 80's are at work everyday. Two of their adult children manage the day-to-day business operation of this twice-weekly paper.

Late Wednesday afternoon, everyone was working toward the Thursday 9 a.m. deadline for the paper when Larry fell to the floor in the grip of a seizure. The ambulance was called and from our hospital, he was taken by air ambulance to a Des Moines hospital. He was gone within four hours of that initial 911 call at the age of 50.

When the news of Larry's death began making its way from one stunned friend to another the next morning, many realized that it was now Thursday and what did his family want to do about the paper? The family did what they do every Thursday morning, get the paper ready to go out that afternoon.

Friends of the family from across the community jumped in to help. One friend had worked for a daily newspaper in her career and she stepped in to edit and another other covered a community event. Larry covered the local sports beat and another friend drove more than 100 miles to follow the high school football team, just as Larry would have been doing on a Friday night.

I've lived in communities where I knew no one every time I went to the grocery store and I did not know the names of the people who lived around me. They didn't care if I lived there or not. And I guess I didn't either or I may have reached out to know them. You build your network and "neighborhood" in those communities, even if your "neighbors" live a mile away.

In a small-town, there's just too much we share in common to be anonymous.
And sometimes that's a curse, and sometimes, that's a blessing.

Just put your lips together and blow

2008-09-02T18:40:00.000-07:00

Our son and I just came home from a band meeting. We signed our life away for the chance to play the french horn. He's excited. And I guess I am too. The horn is like the Pips for Gladys, the rich alto/tenor of the mid register. The best-supporting actor in a musical. Not everyone can play the sax, trumpet, or drums. It's a good lesson. We all have to do our part and do it well for the group to be successful. We all have different ways of getting the end result. We all have to realize that we have been given unique gifts and whether we are the trumpet or the tuba, we all play a role in our community to give it our best for the greater good.

And he thinks he's just learning to play the horn....

How Do I Schedule a Play Date with Michelle Obama?

2008-08-30T08:18:00.000-07:00

I mentioned to our 7-year-old daughter last week that the Obama's have two kids the same ages as our son and daughter.

"Malia and Sasha are 10 and 7 just like you and your brother," I said.
After a short pause, our daughter says, "Can we play with them some time? Where do they live?"

"Chicago," I said.

"Okay, we can stay in a hotel there and then go play."

"I'll see what I can do about setting that up," I said without having much idea how I would do that.

Any ideas?

witnessing history

2008-08-30T07:26:00.000-07:00

My dad tells the story of the night when the lunar module landed on the moon. He got me out of bed to watch Neil Armstrong take that first step. Just weeks from my fifth birthday, I don't remember that night. But I was a witness to history, nonetheless.

Thursday night, we allowed our 10-year-old son to stay up late on a school night to watch Sen. Barack Obama accept the Democratic nomination for President of the United States. He's old enough to remember this when he's an adult. But he's not old enough to grasp the enormity of the moment. He's not old enough to realize that the Civil Rights Act is only as old as I am.

And, maybe that too is a sign of progress.