Tomorrow is a turning point milestone for our family. A page in our lives is being turned to reveal a new chapter of a story that began 18 years, 7 months, and 22 days ago, but who's counting? My baby is moving out and starting college life. Not my youngest, but my first-born baby; the answered prayer, the little miracle boy, the blessing that everyone waited for. The little punkin-face that we spent many nights in the hospital with while he was under the bilirubin lights, attached to wires, and gavage tube feeding. He wanted to come 5 weeks too early, but we made him wait another week in-utero. With a sleep-deprived mother still in pain from the c-section, we got to take him home after he had gained enough weight and had learned to nurse on his own. I was completely in love with this precious baby we had created. Over-protective? Oh yes.
Ethan continued to thrive and grow. We survived the 'witching-hour' when he would cry uncontrollably between 5-7 pm. That passed. The upper respiratory illnesses, one of which gave us a scare and landed him in the Children's Hospital over his 1st birthday with croup. Again, mom slept on the couch next to his bed in the hospital and endured sleep deprivation again. He endured ear infections and eventually 4 sets of ear tubes and a tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy. This little boy had many illnesses to endure but he continued to be a happy, playful boy.
The first 3 years my Ethan and I were two peas in a pod, spending the days together, attending Early Childhood Development classes together to play and learn, going on play dates to the parks with other moms. He was obsessed with cars, memorizing all 63 of the GM models in the car catalog we received in the mail. He played endlessly with his matchbox cars. Sesame Street, Barney, Arnold the aardvark, Magic Schoolbus. Playdoh, finger painting, bubbles, sand, glue, glitter. This is what our days were made of. Priceless.
At almost 3 years old Ethan had to learn to share his mom. His baby brother was born. He quickly learned what was safe or not safe around the baby. He had to share toys, time, and attention. Preschool, learning the alpahabet, late night story-time, moving to a big-boy bed, and holding his hand while he fell asleep. Yes, he had mom wrapped around his little finger.
As he climbed aboard the big yellow school bus for kindergarten, I laughed and waved as this little boy with the big backpack climbed up the stairs, turned around and waved. I was letting him go for the first time. Tears welled-up in my eyes. I had no control over his environment at this point. He was entering the school system. So proud and so happy, yet bittersweet. My boy wasn't a baby anymore.
Soccer, hockey, basketball, baseball, football, track, he tried them all, and his dad and I tried to attend every game and cheer him on the sidelines. Cub Scouts brought camping, meetings, patches and pins, field trips, good times and learning experiences. In 1st grade Ethan wanted a puppy more than anything. Our visit to Last Hope pet adoption day brought Brownie into our lives. He and Austin loved him like a little brother, and Brownie loved them back for the next 12 years.Spelling bees, essays, crossing guard, trombone, sleep-overs, birthday parties, summer camps. Grade school came and went in a flash. Friendships came and went just like the funny expressions and silly words they made up.
Middle school brought music, concerts, and drumming. New friends, Xbox and the computer. "Hanging out" instead of play dates, more serious parent-teacher conferences, and more rules and a memorable 8th grade summer trip to Washington D.C. More independence brought more consequences to learn from. Studying wasn't 'cool'. Early mornings during the week meant sleeping in on the weekends and staying up late with friends. Mom and dad certainly weren't cool anymore and we didn't know anything. I still remember the school principal telling the parents at the first meeting that your child will become an alien. You will not know who they are during the middle school years. Try to ignore most of what they say and don't take it personally. Keep firm rules but loosen the leash. That was so true. Hormones change their personality for a while, but they eventually grow into the person they were meant to be. It takes patience and tolerance during the middle school years.
Entering high school was like the end of an era and the beginning of adulthood. Harder classes and more responsibility, trying to fit in with the right group of friends, figuring out what sport or activity was a right fit. Bonfires, football games, dances. More overnighters. The most challenging times are the ones where you have to let go of your child and trust that they will use their good judgement, knowing that they will test the boundaries first. Expecting there will be some bumps in the road. First car, first road trips, first discussion with a police officer, arguments about getting a summer job. All were par for the course. He survived. Boy Scouts gave him the opportunity to go on adventure trips that also molded him. The Boundary Waters Canoe trip, and the Philmont, New Mexico hiking trip both saw him come home a changed person. He also made his own decisions to do his own thing and not continue with scouts. As a parent who can see the value in scouting, I also saw the value in him making his own decisions and realizing that path is not for everyone. Nontheless the experiences he had were invaluable. Watching him flourish as a drummer was the proudest moment. His daily drum sessions at home, and then practicing with is friends eventually led him to joining a band. I had great pleasure watching them perform and use their talents for the 2 years they were together. It was also time for Ethan to move on when he decided to go to college and knew it was time to leave the band.
Ethan excelled his senior year. He was determined to raise his GPA for college. After applying and visiting his 3 favorite state colleges we were excited for him to be accepted at St. Cloud. It was an answered prayer. He lived in the moment from one day to the next, but it was time to think about his future. It was time to become an adult. Ethan took his senior year very seriously. Not only his studies but his relationships with friends. He wanted to spend more time with his buddies and make memories. He knew this time was fleeting. Watching him and his friends cross the stage to receive their diplomas was surreal. I had watched these young men and women grow up since I had known them as babies and preschoolers or grade schoolers. Was it really time to let them go out into the world alone?
Ordering books, buying bed sheets, towels, mini refrigerator, texting his soon-to-be roommate. It's been a busy summer preparing for the next chapter. I have no idea what emotions to expect. As a mother I see this baby, this little boy, holding my hand and wanting me to read to him, snuggling in bed, tickling his face. Now he's a man with whiskers, who doesn't want to hug his mom but pushes her buttons to get her to tell him how much she loves him. It's an emotional power struggle. A boy, yet a man. He does, but he doesn't want mom around. On these last few days before we make the trip to St. Cloud there are laundry lessons, money lessons, discussions about college life, transportation, dorm living, classes. Ethan reminds me, "mom, I'm moving out in 2 days. Hey mom, I'm moving out in 2 days. Are you gonna miss me? Are you gonna cry?" He already knows the answer. He just wants reassurance that he will be missed.
Am I nervous? A little. Proud? Oh ya. One thing I do know for sure; there is no greater experience than giving birth to your child, teaching them and raising them the best way you know how and watching them bloom and flourish into the person they were created to become. I believe in destiny and I believe that God has a plan for each of us. With the right direction and support we eventually take the path God has laid out for us. There is no greater joy than to have this child given to you for these short 18 years to help mold them, create them, all with God's help. They are only loaned to us and we give them back. With our continued support and guidance, they are in God's hands now. I do know for sure that my son has his moral standards and Christian values in place. He has made up his mind to do certain things and to not do certain things. He knows that he can do anything he sets his mind to, and he knows he has a family and a God that love him unconditionally and will only be a phone call or a prayer away. That is confidence and faith in action.
As we drive down the road tomorrow, vehicle packed with is belongings, I'm sure we will get more 'mom time'. I will savor every word and moment. It is only a new chapter for him, and for me. I look forward to unfolding the continuing story. I will expect challenges, I will expect joy. Such is life.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Friday, July 22, 2011
Good bye my friend
How do you say goodbye to your best friend? How do you willingly take his life from him, even if his body is failing him? How do you take a happy, smiling, tail-wagging, big brown-eyed friend and say "sorry buddy, this is for your own good."
When my oldest son was in 1st grade, my youngest son was in preschool, we bought a beagle/springer mix from Last Hope pet adoption. My oldest, Ethan, claimed him as his own and named him 'Brownie' for his brown eyes and spots. This adorable little puppy won our hearts through sleepless nights of barking because he was lonely, and through chewed up chair spokes and potty-training accidents. He would chase his tail, bark at his reflection in the window, jump up to catch bubbles, and snuggle in your lap.
I soon became his 'alpha dog'. His momma. He followed me everywhere, being careful not to step on his toes. He was my shadow. When he heard the door open he would bark. Sometimes he heard things that I didn't, for which I was grateful. But he hated to be alone. We needed to buy a bark collar for him when he was in his kennel. He loved his crate and received a treat when he would go in it, but he needed to be with people or he barked. Other than that he would not bark much for which we were grateful.
We took Brownie on many family trips to South Dakota and he enjoyed wrestling with Grandma's dog, Tubby. He loved car trips and would run straight for the car when he saw us packing our bags. He enjoyed camping trips, hikes along the MN north shore and our local day trips to parks.
When Brownie was still a puppy, the challenges of raising him became so much that I packed up his belongings and was going to take him to the Humane Society. I struggled with the decision. I finally decided to hand this over to God. I said, "God, if I am going to commit to raising this dog, I need your help. This is your animal that you have put in my care. I promise to give him the best home possible. We will love him completely, but I need your blessing." Brownie was saved from the 'dog pound.'
We've had our struggles through his 'accidents' in the house, sensitive stomach and vomiting on my carpet, getting into the trash cans, eating kleenex, jumping up to eat food off the table and countertop......just to name a few. But I compare raising a dog to raising children. They try your patience, but you love them so much that you forgive them.
When I think of Brownie, I compare his presence in my life to God's presence. It's no coincidence that God created pets to help mankind in many ways. Brownie loves us unconditionally. Even if we are having a bad day and don't pay him any attention for awhile, he comes to us and shows us he still loves us and wants our attention. Just like God, Brownie follows me everywhere. He is always by my side. Sometimes I let him go first, to walk in front of me. Sometimes I let him chase me. And sometimes he just lays by my side for comfort. Even when I go in to a room and shut the door on him, he lays down outside the door, sometimes paws at the door for me to let him in, but he waits.....patiently. When I leave the house and leave him at home with others, he will wait at the window. He will watch me leave, and I've been told he will pace and whimper, and go back to the window and wait, or lay down at the top of the stairs and stare at the door. When I come back home he gets excited and runs to me to inhale me as I shower him with kisses, reassuring him that I missed him too. I believe God is alot like that. He is our father, but in many ways shows us that same unconditional love and devotion that our pets do.
Through the years, Brownie's body has shown signs of deterioration. It started with soft, fatty tumors popping up all over his body. One tumor kept growing so large that it is now the size of a football, under his right arm along his ribcage. One tumor was harder and almond-sized. In 4 years it has grown to be the size of a grapefruit, hanging on his neck, below his collar. The vet extracted cells and said they look like cancer cells. Devastating news and heartbreaking decisions had to be made. I, myself would have paid for surgery to have it removed, but my husband could not fathom spending that kind of money on saving a dog, especially if it was cancer, which he thought could spread and cause imminent death anyway. The vet agreed that letting nature take it's course is an option. After all, Brownie was a senior citizen now and had many tumors. At 12 years old he is walking a bit slower, but still active and happy. The tumor under his arm has made his arm deformed as it extends out to the side more. Brownie's breathing seems more labored and he gets tired-out easily. His appetite has increased from getting 2 meals a day to now 3 meals. He always seems hungry as well as thirsty. At this point we had used the Bark Off device which would make an dog whistle sound if he barked. It worked for a while, but no longer. He now barks incessantly when he is in his kennel, ignoring the whistle. We don't know why. His neck tumor is very hot to the touch and very heavy, stretching the skin so taut that it is now starting to show small scabs where the skin has been broken. It is for these reasons that I believe waiting would only prolong the inevitable, and I don't want him to be in pain.
But how do you say goodbye to your friend? Your guardian angel? Your ever-present comfort?
I will take him for a long walk. He has had all of his dog food, and now is finishing his treats, and I have saved a hamburger for him to have for lunch. He is oblivious to what is in store this afternoon. We follow our daily routine; feeding, potty, morning scratches as he sits at my feet, and his morning nap. And I had a long talk with him. I've told him how much I love him, to please forgive me, and asking God's blessing and to please take him into His care. God only knows what purpose he had for Brownie in our lives. I know we have been blessed beyond measure to experience, grow, and love him. I don't know what God has in store for pets on the other side, if their spirit or energy moves on to the other side. I do know that God is love. And I do know that pets are unconditional love. I do know that God created animals. I believe God has a plan for them as well. I hope to see him again some day, God willing.
Good bye my friend. Until we meet again.
When my oldest son was in 1st grade, my youngest son was in preschool, we bought a beagle/springer mix from Last Hope pet adoption. My oldest, Ethan, claimed him as his own and named him 'Brownie' for his brown eyes and spots. This adorable little puppy won our hearts through sleepless nights of barking because he was lonely, and through chewed up chair spokes and potty-training accidents. He would chase his tail, bark at his reflection in the window, jump up to catch bubbles, and snuggle in your lap.
I soon became his 'alpha dog'. His momma. He followed me everywhere, being careful not to step on his toes. He was my shadow. When he heard the door open he would bark. Sometimes he heard things that I didn't, for which I was grateful. But he hated to be alone. We needed to buy a bark collar for him when he was in his kennel. He loved his crate and received a treat when he would go in it, but he needed to be with people or he barked. Other than that he would not bark much for which we were grateful.
We took Brownie on many family trips to South Dakota and he enjoyed wrestling with Grandma's dog, Tubby. He loved car trips and would run straight for the car when he saw us packing our bags. He enjoyed camping trips, hikes along the MN north shore and our local day trips to parks.
When Brownie was still a puppy, the challenges of raising him became so much that I packed up his belongings and was going to take him to the Humane Society. I struggled with the decision. I finally decided to hand this over to God. I said, "God, if I am going to commit to raising this dog, I need your help. This is your animal that you have put in my care. I promise to give him the best home possible. We will love him completely, but I need your blessing." Brownie was saved from the 'dog pound.'
We've had our struggles through his 'accidents' in the house, sensitive stomach and vomiting on my carpet, getting into the trash cans, eating kleenex, jumping up to eat food off the table and countertop......just to name a few. But I compare raising a dog to raising children. They try your patience, but you love them so much that you forgive them.
When I think of Brownie, I compare his presence in my life to God's presence. It's no coincidence that God created pets to help mankind in many ways. Brownie loves us unconditionally. Even if we are having a bad day and don't pay him any attention for awhile, he comes to us and shows us he still loves us and wants our attention. Just like God, Brownie follows me everywhere. He is always by my side. Sometimes I let him go first, to walk in front of me. Sometimes I let him chase me. And sometimes he just lays by my side for comfort. Even when I go in to a room and shut the door on him, he lays down outside the door, sometimes paws at the door for me to let him in, but he waits.....patiently. When I leave the house and leave him at home with others, he will wait at the window. He will watch me leave, and I've been told he will pace and whimper, and go back to the window and wait, or lay down at the top of the stairs and stare at the door. When I come back home he gets excited and runs to me to inhale me as I shower him with kisses, reassuring him that I missed him too. I believe God is alot like that. He is our father, but in many ways shows us that same unconditional love and devotion that our pets do.
Through the years, Brownie's body has shown signs of deterioration. It started with soft, fatty tumors popping up all over his body. One tumor kept growing so large that it is now the size of a football, under his right arm along his ribcage. One tumor was harder and almond-sized. In 4 years it has grown to be the size of a grapefruit, hanging on his neck, below his collar. The vet extracted cells and said they look like cancer cells. Devastating news and heartbreaking decisions had to be made. I, myself would have paid for surgery to have it removed, but my husband could not fathom spending that kind of money on saving a dog, especially if it was cancer, which he thought could spread and cause imminent death anyway. The vet agreed that letting nature take it's course is an option. After all, Brownie was a senior citizen now and had many tumors. At 12 years old he is walking a bit slower, but still active and happy. The tumor under his arm has made his arm deformed as it extends out to the side more. Brownie's breathing seems more labored and he gets tired-out easily. His appetite has increased from getting 2 meals a day to now 3 meals. He always seems hungry as well as thirsty. At this point we had used the Bark Off device which would make an dog whistle sound if he barked. It worked for a while, but no longer. He now barks incessantly when he is in his kennel, ignoring the whistle. We don't know why. His neck tumor is very hot to the touch and very heavy, stretching the skin so taut that it is now starting to show small scabs where the skin has been broken. It is for these reasons that I believe waiting would only prolong the inevitable, and I don't want him to be in pain.
But how do you say goodbye to your friend? Your guardian angel? Your ever-present comfort?
I will take him for a long walk. He has had all of his dog food, and now is finishing his treats, and I have saved a hamburger for him to have for lunch. He is oblivious to what is in store this afternoon. We follow our daily routine; feeding, potty, morning scratches as he sits at my feet, and his morning nap. And I had a long talk with him. I've told him how much I love him, to please forgive me, and asking God's blessing and to please take him into His care. God only knows what purpose he had for Brownie in our lives. I know we have been blessed beyond measure to experience, grow, and love him. I don't know what God has in store for pets on the other side, if their spirit or energy moves on to the other side. I do know that God is love. And I do know that pets are unconditional love. I do know that God created animals. I believe God has a plan for them as well. I hope to see him again some day, God willing.
Good bye my friend. Until we meet again.
Friday, April 22, 2011
It's Good Friday. Typically a day of reflection filled with sadness, remembering how our Christ was tortured and crucified for our sakes. A perfect lamb taken to slaughter as an atonement for our sins. Yet this day for me is filled with hope. Hope is knowing that on Easter morning our Christ will rise from the dead as he promised, knowing that he conquered death for us and the promise that he will do the same for us through our faith. Hope. Hope can be the difference between health or illness, happiness or sadness, life or death. Hope is a powerful thing.
Five years ago I had just received the news that no one wants to hear, "you have cancer." The previous week, on Easter day, I had to spend the weekend with my mother as well as the Koepsell family, knowing that I needed a biopsy the next week. My mind was full of questions, uneasiness, fear, and hope. I could not tell them anything yet. It felt like I was holding back a huge secret that I could not share. My heart ached. I needed to wait until I knew for sure before I caused them any worry. That following Friday I got the dreaded phone call. Friday the 13th of April. How ironic. My mind kicked into 'business gear'. "Ok, let's take care of business. What do we do next." I didn't have time to worry. I just wanted it out of me and make it go away.
Then faith kicks in high gear. 'Faith is being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you do not see.' Hebrews 11:1. This is a 'get on your knees and pray' moment. When something is completely out of your control and in someone else's hands. You give complete control over to God and say "Here. I can't handle this. You need to do this one for me." God takes the lowest moment of your life to lift you up. The get-on-your-knees moments. When you give your trust and control over to God, that's when things start to happen. Coming to the realization that He has an overall plan, but we cannot see the big picture, then you know His will be done. No matter what, He will do things His way to benefit you and your loved ones. It may not seem like it at the moment, but it's all part of the learning process to ripen our spirit. Our faith grows. Our appreciation grows. Our love grows. Our hope grows.
Hope. During my times of prayer I felt enveloped in peace and love. My worries melted away. It's almost as if I heard Jesus whisper, "Have faith my child. You are in my hands. Everything is fine." I felt this inner voice telling me "God is not done with you yet! You have a lot more to learn." Hope. Just knowing I was in His care gave me hope. Just knowing that God has a purpose and a plan for my life and the lives of my family gave me hope. Knowing that no matter what we ask for, He will continue his will. My prayer from then on out was, "According to your will Lord. According to your will. Your will be done. If you want me to learn something from this, then use this time to teach me. Mold me. Help me. Walk with me. And if you need me there with you, I will go with open arms. According to your will."
I am approaching May 1st, the anniversary of my lumpectomy. I call that day the beginning of 'cancer free' even though I had 2 months of daily radiation following. May day is like my Easter Day. It is a celebration day to celebrate new life. Since then I have had an incredible journey learning about myself and about life. It's had it's ups and downs, but I continue to be led by my spirit and the Holy Spirit. I have dedicated my life to live according to His will for me. If I am met with a challenge, I know it has a purpose. If I am met with happiness, I welcome his blessings. I speak my mind when needed, I tell my friends and family and dog how much I love and appreciate them, I want to help others, teach others, and be Christ's hands and feet. Do I still need ripening? Oh ya. I make mistakes. But I don't see them as mistakes anymore. I see them as learning experiences.
Good Friday gives me hope. Even through Christ's torture and suffering and death on the cross, we have the hope that he will rise on Easter morning to conquer death. It's a new beginning. A new relationship with God. A promise. John 3:16- "For God gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life." This gives my heart hope and a cause for celebration, to celebrate this gift of life that He has given us.
Have you been on your knees yet? What are you waiting for? It could change your life.
Five years ago I had just received the news that no one wants to hear, "you have cancer." The previous week, on Easter day, I had to spend the weekend with my mother as well as the Koepsell family, knowing that I needed a biopsy the next week. My mind was full of questions, uneasiness, fear, and hope. I could not tell them anything yet. It felt like I was holding back a huge secret that I could not share. My heart ached. I needed to wait until I knew for sure before I caused them any worry. That following Friday I got the dreaded phone call. Friday the 13th of April. How ironic. My mind kicked into 'business gear'. "Ok, let's take care of business. What do we do next." I didn't have time to worry. I just wanted it out of me and make it go away.
Then faith kicks in high gear. 'Faith is being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you do not see.' Hebrews 11:1. This is a 'get on your knees and pray' moment. When something is completely out of your control and in someone else's hands. You give complete control over to God and say "Here. I can't handle this. You need to do this one for me." God takes the lowest moment of your life to lift you up. The get-on-your-knees moments. When you give your trust and control over to God, that's when things start to happen. Coming to the realization that He has an overall plan, but we cannot see the big picture, then you know His will be done. No matter what, He will do things His way to benefit you and your loved ones. It may not seem like it at the moment, but it's all part of the learning process to ripen our spirit. Our faith grows. Our appreciation grows. Our love grows. Our hope grows.
Hope. During my times of prayer I felt enveloped in peace and love. My worries melted away. It's almost as if I heard Jesus whisper, "Have faith my child. You are in my hands. Everything is fine." I felt this inner voice telling me "God is not done with you yet! You have a lot more to learn." Hope. Just knowing I was in His care gave me hope. Just knowing that God has a purpose and a plan for my life and the lives of my family gave me hope. Knowing that no matter what we ask for, He will continue his will. My prayer from then on out was, "According to your will Lord. According to your will. Your will be done. If you want me to learn something from this, then use this time to teach me. Mold me. Help me. Walk with me. And if you need me there with you, I will go with open arms. According to your will."
I am approaching May 1st, the anniversary of my lumpectomy. I call that day the beginning of 'cancer free' even though I had 2 months of daily radiation following. May day is like my Easter Day. It is a celebration day to celebrate new life. Since then I have had an incredible journey learning about myself and about life. It's had it's ups and downs, but I continue to be led by my spirit and the Holy Spirit. I have dedicated my life to live according to His will for me. If I am met with a challenge, I know it has a purpose. If I am met with happiness, I welcome his blessings. I speak my mind when needed, I tell my friends and family and dog how much I love and appreciate them, I want to help others, teach others, and be Christ's hands and feet. Do I still need ripening? Oh ya. I make mistakes. But I don't see them as mistakes anymore. I see them as learning experiences.
Good Friday gives me hope. Even through Christ's torture and suffering and death on the cross, we have the hope that he will rise on Easter morning to conquer death. It's a new beginning. A new relationship with God. A promise. John 3:16- "For God gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life." This gives my heart hope and a cause for celebration, to celebrate this gift of life that He has given us.
Have you been on your knees yet? What are you waiting for? It could change your life.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Homecoming
Homecoming. Interesting word. My American Heritage Dictionary describes it as 1. 'a coming to or returning home.' 2.'In colleges and universities, an annual event for visiting alumni.'
From my house I can hear the high school marching band practicing outside. Through the open windows I can smell the sweet breeze of brown fallen leaves and the rustling in the trees. My eldest is now a senior in high school and my baby is now a freshman. My senior had never played high school football, so his dad and I hadn't considered attending a football game, even though we knew a few of the boys his age that played on the team. Tomorrow night is their homecoming football game against their rival city high school team. It will be my first local football game and I am excited.
This town is now my 'home'. After living here the longest than anywhere else, I feel my roots extending deep into the history and presence of what is Apple Valley. We bought our home 18 years ago in a modest neighborhood where we intended to raise our family. Growing up, my parents moved a total of 11 times that I can remember, dotting the southeastern towns of South Dakota. My dad was a WWII vet and retired feeder pig dealer, my mom a homemaker. They rented homes and even tried owning and managing a motel. But about every 1-2 years they felt unsettled, so they lifted our roots once again to plant them elsewhere.
When I was 11 years old they bought an acreage 7 miles from a small farm town of about 200 people. I was in 6th grade. I came from a nice town with many friendships and landed in the country surrounded by farms, hay bales, and dirt roads. Our house was over 100 years old with a musty cellar basement with a dirt floor, and an unheated upstairs. I was angry, indignant, and just royally pissed off at my parents. Why did they bring me to this place in the sticks? It seemed like the land that time forgot and the kids all wore jeans and t-shirts. Whether I liked it or not, this was my home. At least for the next 6 years.
Yes, I eventually made friends with the locals. Slumber parties, sports, cheerleading, riding in cars with boys, homecoming week, with theme days: Hat day, inside out day, punk day (this was the 80's, mind you), bonfire pep rally, marching band, football game. We had it all, and with a small high school of only about 40 kids, we had to DO it all. We were involved.
Homecoming. Was this home to me yet? Did I really fit in? Did they accept me as one of their own? Homecoming coronation. I had 6 other classmates. Five boys and 2 girls. We were all nominated to say the least. My fellow girl classmate was born and raised nearby, and in a town that small, everyone is related to everyone in one way or another. You're a cousin, or your sister married her brother, or your parents are cousins. I was the 'outsider'. I didn't 'belong'. Not only that, but my parents 'didn't belong'. My sister 'didn't belong'. We didn't have family ties there. We weren't born or raised there. I was different. I liked popular pop, rock, and disco music. They liked country. I liked the clothes that were popular in magazines and tv. They liked their jeans and tennis shoes. I was constantly reminded that I 'wasn't here when that happened', when she wet her pants in 4th grade, or when he was held back in 5th grade, or when their uncle died, or when they got married. Oh ya, 'you weren't here then.' 'You wouldn't know, you aren't related.'
Homecoming. Interesting word. I walked in the procession to the stage in my pink satiny dress with the lace bodice. My hair curled like Farah Fawcetts. As the 7 of us stood on that stage, the reigning Queen took her crown and walked back and forth, finally placing the crown on my classmates head. Not on mine. The reality of that move made it all so real to me. I didn't belong. This was not my home. I didn't have a right to claim a stake here. She deserved it. I'm sure there were other factors involved in the deciding votes. Was I everyones friend? Did I make the time to forge new friendships? Was I involved enough in school activities. I humbly accepted my label. Second place. Runner-up. On with the homecoming festivities.
Resentment? Maybe just a little. Forgiveness and grace? Alot. I eventually dated and married my high school sweetheart. I have tenure now. I am one of 'them'. Not only that, but 25 years ago I claimed the title Valedictorian of my class. Even if it is only #1 out of 7. I staked my claim. I now call Canova my original 'home'. My alma mater is there, my home church is there that I was confirmed, married, and baptized our babies in. My extended family of in-laws are there. I even designed the town Centennial logo and claimed my local fame. Who knows, I may even be buried there. Yes, it is my hometown.
I hope my sons feel deep roots here in Apple Valley. They attended schools here from preschool, to grade school, to middle school, and now high school. I wanted my sons to feel grounded, to feel like they belonged. I wanted them to feel confident, assured, and accepted here. They have made lasting memories here. Friends, sports, overnighters, garage bands, backyard bonfires, football games. Even if their class has 500 students and their high school has over 2,000. This is their home.
Homecoming? Depends on what you call home. What's yours?
From my house I can hear the high school marching band practicing outside. Through the open windows I can smell the sweet breeze of brown fallen leaves and the rustling in the trees. My eldest is now a senior in high school and my baby is now a freshman. My senior had never played high school football, so his dad and I hadn't considered attending a football game, even though we knew a few of the boys his age that played on the team. Tomorrow night is their homecoming football game against their rival city high school team. It will be my first local football game and I am excited.
This town is now my 'home'. After living here the longest than anywhere else, I feel my roots extending deep into the history and presence of what is Apple Valley. We bought our home 18 years ago in a modest neighborhood where we intended to raise our family. Growing up, my parents moved a total of 11 times that I can remember, dotting the southeastern towns of South Dakota. My dad was a WWII vet and retired feeder pig dealer, my mom a homemaker. They rented homes and even tried owning and managing a motel. But about every 1-2 years they felt unsettled, so they lifted our roots once again to plant them elsewhere.
When I was 11 years old they bought an acreage 7 miles from a small farm town of about 200 people. I was in 6th grade. I came from a nice town with many friendships and landed in the country surrounded by farms, hay bales, and dirt roads. Our house was over 100 years old with a musty cellar basement with a dirt floor, and an unheated upstairs. I was angry, indignant, and just royally pissed off at my parents. Why did they bring me to this place in the sticks? It seemed like the land that time forgot and the kids all wore jeans and t-shirts. Whether I liked it or not, this was my home. At least for the next 6 years.
Yes, I eventually made friends with the locals. Slumber parties, sports, cheerleading, riding in cars with boys, homecoming week, with theme days: Hat day, inside out day, punk day (this was the 80's, mind you), bonfire pep rally, marching band, football game. We had it all, and with a small high school of only about 40 kids, we had to DO it all. We were involved.
Homecoming. Was this home to me yet? Did I really fit in? Did they accept me as one of their own? Homecoming coronation. I had 6 other classmates. Five boys and 2 girls. We were all nominated to say the least. My fellow girl classmate was born and raised nearby, and in a town that small, everyone is related to everyone in one way or another. You're a cousin, or your sister married her brother, or your parents are cousins. I was the 'outsider'. I didn't 'belong'. Not only that, but my parents 'didn't belong'. My sister 'didn't belong'. We didn't have family ties there. We weren't born or raised there. I was different. I liked popular pop, rock, and disco music. They liked country. I liked the clothes that were popular in magazines and tv. They liked their jeans and tennis shoes. I was constantly reminded that I 'wasn't here when that happened', when she wet her pants in 4th grade, or when he was held back in 5th grade, or when their uncle died, or when they got married. Oh ya, 'you weren't here then.' 'You wouldn't know, you aren't related.'
Homecoming. Interesting word. I walked in the procession to the stage in my pink satiny dress with the lace bodice. My hair curled like Farah Fawcetts. As the 7 of us stood on that stage, the reigning Queen took her crown and walked back and forth, finally placing the crown on my classmates head. Not on mine. The reality of that move made it all so real to me. I didn't belong. This was not my home. I didn't have a right to claim a stake here. She deserved it. I'm sure there were other factors involved in the deciding votes. Was I everyones friend? Did I make the time to forge new friendships? Was I involved enough in school activities. I humbly accepted my label. Second place. Runner-up. On with the homecoming festivities.
Resentment? Maybe just a little. Forgiveness and grace? Alot. I eventually dated and married my high school sweetheart. I have tenure now. I am one of 'them'. Not only that, but 25 years ago I claimed the title Valedictorian of my class. Even if it is only #1 out of 7. I staked my claim. I now call Canova my original 'home'. My alma mater is there, my home church is there that I was confirmed, married, and baptized our babies in. My extended family of in-laws are there. I even designed the town Centennial logo and claimed my local fame. Who knows, I may even be buried there. Yes, it is my hometown.
I hope my sons feel deep roots here in Apple Valley. They attended schools here from preschool, to grade school, to middle school, and now high school. I wanted my sons to feel grounded, to feel like they belonged. I wanted them to feel confident, assured, and accepted here. They have made lasting memories here. Friends, sports, overnighters, garage bands, backyard bonfires, football games. Even if their class has 500 students and their high school has over 2,000. This is their home.
Homecoming? Depends on what you call home. What's yours?
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Here's To New Beginnings
Have you ever been thrown into a swimming pool and told to swim when for the life of you, you had no idea?
That's what it feels like if you quit or lose your job and are forced out of the job market either willingly or unwillingly. You are forced to swim. Whether you like it or not. You have to flow with the current or drown. Trying to keep your head above water, gasping for air, and saying "I think I can, I think I can!"
One year ago I made a heart wrenching decision to leave my job of over 16 years as a Dental Hygienist. For many and various reasons I felt the need to break the ties that bind and venture off into the world of the unknown to experience something new in life. It had been 2 years since my breast cancer diagnosis and treatment, yet I continued to get a flu-like illness almost every 6 weeks, and I was battling a myofascial pain in my hips and legs, as well as pain in my back and neck. My relationship with my fellow hygienist was waning as I dreaded going to work in the morning to listen to her incessant banter and opinionated comments. It was like fingernails on a chalk board.
There were sleepless nights, there were tears, there were insensitive comments from my family, there were questions from friends. Why would I, a hygienist who loved her work and her relationship with her patients, want to leave a very good paying job to stay home as a full-time homemaker? My symptoms were not visible on the outside. Many people had no idea how I felt. I worried how we would pay the bills without my income. My husband had a wonderful job that paid well, but he had retirement plans. He had been saving his money for our retirement living and to fund our boys college education. Would this have an impact on their future?
It's hard to describe, but for awhile I had been feeling an internal stirring, to what most Christians would attribute to the Holy Spirit working in my heart. I felt like I was being led, or pulled, or nudged. Not to mention that I had been praying and asking God to direct me down the path that he had willed for my life. I asked for him to use me according to his purpose. Have you ever asked God to enter your life and show you the path that he intended for you? If you do, don't be surprised. He may have a different plan that you hadn't planned on.
Back up two years. I had just turned 40. I had the intuition that I had a great life, but maybe too good to be true. Have you ever felt like you were running a race, and it was exhilerating. You feel on top of the world and so alive. Then as you're running, you see a washed -out bridge ahead. You anticipate what could happen. That's how I felt. I had an intuition that something was ahead but I didn't know what. I turned 40 in November of that year and celebrated with friends at a big party. December came and went and a little voice kept telling me 'make your doctor appointments! Make your doctor appointments!' So in January I decided to just go ahead and make all of the appointments that were overdue.
After an exam and mammogram it was discovered that I had a small lump. My life forever changed at that moment. I felt like the walls of my perfect life were crashing down around me. I drove home in a daze, maybe speeding a little too much, feeling reckless, feeling the need to live life fuller. As the tears flowed, and the prayers went out, I felt an inner peace. I was madder than hell and vowed that God wasn't done with me yet. It felt like God was telling me everything was going to be fine and it wasn't him that was doing this to me. Could it be the Devil? Could it be sin? Could it just be a fluke of nature? What caused it and how should I handle it? It didn't matter. I again felt an overwhelming sense of peace that everything is in God's hands and I needed to hand this over to him with faith that he had a plan for me. Through this I would trust him and I would learn from whatever experience it brought.
This was the beginning of the epiphany that I had before leaving my stable job. This was the beginning of the stirring of my spirit. This was a mixed blessing. Yes, I went through some pain. I went through some uncomfortable times and some inconveniences. It was a bump in the road and I came out on the other side with a greater appreciation for life in general. I savor the moments with my husband and my boys. I look at my aging mother with empathy and compassion. I hug my friends and listen intently to what they say, then tell them I love them. I am thankful for my modest home that I always thought was too small. And I languish in new friendships and experiences, knowing that God is opening new doors and windows for me to go through.
Where has the past year taken me since I left my job? I've been soul-searching. I've been asking questions. I've been praying. I've had some wonderful, eye-opening experiences such as a mission trip with our middle school church youth to Thunder Bay, Canada, and I encountered wonderful, loving sisters in Christ at our church's Women's Retreat in Wisconsin and I've decided to be a small group mentor for 9th grade girls at my church. I've dabbled more into my photography, and started creative writing again. I spend quality time with my family and attend to their needs. I make time a priority to spend with girlfriends and for forging new relationships. There have been down times as well. I'm not going to kid you. There have been times when the tears start to flow. Times when I sat on the couch with the computer or tv and didn't have the energy to get up. Times when it felt like a depression was washing over me. The guilt of putting my family in the position to do without some excesses because we were on a budget. The guilt of not being able to keep the house spotless and clean clothes put away, or new groceries in the refrigerator. A guilt sets in when you stay home full-time yet are unable to keep things perfect. Your husband works 10-12 hrs. in a day and wonders 'what did she do all day?' Your kids come home from school and ask 'what do we have to eat, and where are my clean clothes?'
Well, I have given up my high expectations for a perfect house and perfect kids or perfect marriange. I don't think I ever expected perfection. Life is a school and we are continuing to learn. I go with the flow. I swim with my head above water. And I'm learning a few new 'swim strokes' to go in new directions. But I'm enjoying the trip. God isn't done with me yet. We have big plans ;) Here's to new beginnings.
That's what it feels like if you quit or lose your job and are forced out of the job market either willingly or unwillingly. You are forced to swim. Whether you like it or not. You have to flow with the current or drown. Trying to keep your head above water, gasping for air, and saying "I think I can, I think I can!"
One year ago I made a heart wrenching decision to leave my job of over 16 years as a Dental Hygienist. For many and various reasons I felt the need to break the ties that bind and venture off into the world of the unknown to experience something new in life. It had been 2 years since my breast cancer diagnosis and treatment, yet I continued to get a flu-like illness almost every 6 weeks, and I was battling a myofascial pain in my hips and legs, as well as pain in my back and neck. My relationship with my fellow hygienist was waning as I dreaded going to work in the morning to listen to her incessant banter and opinionated comments. It was like fingernails on a chalk board.
There were sleepless nights, there were tears, there were insensitive comments from my family, there were questions from friends. Why would I, a hygienist who loved her work and her relationship with her patients, want to leave a very good paying job to stay home as a full-time homemaker? My symptoms were not visible on the outside. Many people had no idea how I felt. I worried how we would pay the bills without my income. My husband had a wonderful job that paid well, but he had retirement plans. He had been saving his money for our retirement living and to fund our boys college education. Would this have an impact on their future?
It's hard to describe, but for awhile I had been feeling an internal stirring, to what most Christians would attribute to the Holy Spirit working in my heart. I felt like I was being led, or pulled, or nudged. Not to mention that I had been praying and asking God to direct me down the path that he had willed for my life. I asked for him to use me according to his purpose. Have you ever asked God to enter your life and show you the path that he intended for you? If you do, don't be surprised. He may have a different plan that you hadn't planned on.
Back up two years. I had just turned 40. I had the intuition that I had a great life, but maybe too good to be true. Have you ever felt like you were running a race, and it was exhilerating. You feel on top of the world and so alive. Then as you're running, you see a washed -out bridge ahead. You anticipate what could happen. That's how I felt. I had an intuition that something was ahead but I didn't know what. I turned 40 in November of that year and celebrated with friends at a big party. December came and went and a little voice kept telling me 'make your doctor appointments! Make your doctor appointments!' So in January I decided to just go ahead and make all of the appointments that were overdue.
After an exam and mammogram it was discovered that I had a small lump. My life forever changed at that moment. I felt like the walls of my perfect life were crashing down around me. I drove home in a daze, maybe speeding a little too much, feeling reckless, feeling the need to live life fuller. As the tears flowed, and the prayers went out, I felt an inner peace. I was madder than hell and vowed that God wasn't done with me yet. It felt like God was telling me everything was going to be fine and it wasn't him that was doing this to me. Could it be the Devil? Could it be sin? Could it just be a fluke of nature? What caused it and how should I handle it? It didn't matter. I again felt an overwhelming sense of peace that everything is in God's hands and I needed to hand this over to him with faith that he had a plan for me. Through this I would trust him and I would learn from whatever experience it brought.
This was the beginning of the epiphany that I had before leaving my stable job. This was the beginning of the stirring of my spirit. This was a mixed blessing. Yes, I went through some pain. I went through some uncomfortable times and some inconveniences. It was a bump in the road and I came out on the other side with a greater appreciation for life in general. I savor the moments with my husband and my boys. I look at my aging mother with empathy and compassion. I hug my friends and listen intently to what they say, then tell them I love them. I am thankful for my modest home that I always thought was too small. And I languish in new friendships and experiences, knowing that God is opening new doors and windows for me to go through.
Where has the past year taken me since I left my job? I've been soul-searching. I've been asking questions. I've been praying. I've had some wonderful, eye-opening experiences such as a mission trip with our middle school church youth to Thunder Bay, Canada, and I encountered wonderful, loving sisters in Christ at our church's Women's Retreat in Wisconsin and I've decided to be a small group mentor for 9th grade girls at my church. I've dabbled more into my photography, and started creative writing again. I spend quality time with my family and attend to their needs. I make time a priority to spend with girlfriends and for forging new relationships. There have been down times as well. I'm not going to kid you. There have been times when the tears start to flow. Times when I sat on the couch with the computer or tv and didn't have the energy to get up. Times when it felt like a depression was washing over me. The guilt of putting my family in the position to do without some excesses because we were on a budget. The guilt of not being able to keep the house spotless and clean clothes put away, or new groceries in the refrigerator. A guilt sets in when you stay home full-time yet are unable to keep things perfect. Your husband works 10-12 hrs. in a day and wonders 'what did she do all day?' Your kids come home from school and ask 'what do we have to eat, and where are my clean clothes?'
Well, I have given up my high expectations for a perfect house and perfect kids or perfect marriange. I don't think I ever expected perfection. Life is a school and we are continuing to learn. I go with the flow. I swim with my head above water. And I'm learning a few new 'swim strokes' to go in new directions. But I'm enjoying the trip. God isn't done with me yet. We have big plans ;) Here's to new beginnings.
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