Monthly Archives: July 2013

One lump or two

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Well, um . . . none, if you are referring to coffee.  Southern-style sweet tea is another thing altogether.  I am almost embarrassed to admit how much sugar goes into a gallon of that, but today, I am talking about java – the caffeinated lifeblood for many.  In my entire life, I have probably drank about 11 sips of coffee.  The last time I tried coffee in my middle 20’s, I became violently ill with the stomach flu and have never touched the stuff again.  (There was no direct correlation between my illness and the 3 swallows of coffee I drank that day, but let’s just say the experience left a lasting impression. )

My loathe opinion of coffee has put me in some awkward situations as an adult as it seems many friends  want to hold impromptu meetings at one local coffee shop or another.  Not my idea of a good time, as the smell sometimes is too much for me.  However, I do regularly meet for “coffee and show-n-tell” with some of my favorite octo- and nonagenarians at our favorite gathering spot.  I just order a Coke while we visit and share the latest project of our heart and hands work.

Fortunately, I didn’t allow my dislikes to sway my decision to attend “Coffee with Ingeborg” in which the writer Lauraine Snelling would attend clad as her famous book character Ingeborg Bjorklund.  During “coffee”, we would have a chance to visit with the determined Ingeborg (and other characters) as well as enjoy wonderful Scandinavian goodies, music, and entertainment.

coffee with ingeborg

So what does a non-coffee drinker do when she has the opportunity to “meet” one of her favorite characters?  She invites along her sisters-in-law who also have the same addiction to the book series AND who happen to be non-coffee drinkers.   We all decided to put on our big girl pants and dive in – even if it meant proving the old adage “Misery loves company” true.

I won’t give away too much about the day, because I believe “Coffee with Ingeborg” might be a regular event for the author.  I really detest spoilers; so, I won’t ruin the mystique for the next attendees. We enjoyed the atmosphere, hearing the guests’ questions and the stories shared in response.  It was somewhat like a homecoming for me as well, because all of my new writer friends (sans one) were in attendance. Warm smiles across the aisles and later, genuine embraces reminded me that we had been brought together once again as part of God’s miraculous plan.

With my vivid imagination and child-like faith, I could almost picture the novels’ characters aging in time and their children constructing the very building (a memorial hall) where we were visiting.  While purely fictional, those characters are based off the faith-filled, hard-working, salt of the earth immigrants that settled the lands of the plains.  Even the adorable bathroom curtains were a reminder of the yearned for landmarks that legitimized towns.  The dainty lace depicted rolling plains with a schoolhouse and church replete with steeple – both believed by the settlers were necessary to create a better life for their children.  Such was the way of the prairie!

We had a delightful afternoon.  I cherished the time spent with the sisters (as we seldom do anything together without our kids).  We thoroughly enjoyed all seven Norwegian delicacies lovingly prepared by members of the local historical society. And we washed them down with water.  Thankfully, imbibing coffee was optional.  It’s a good thing too, because if it was a requirement, I would have been looking for a nice houseplant in one of the corners.

Blessed in Blessing

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I have four email accounts (don’t ask) for different purposes.  To say I get a large volume of emails each day is an understatement.  Today I am thankful for one such message received a few weeks ago.  It was a “mass mailing” list to which I subscribe from one of my favorite authors.  It arrived at one of my busiest times (packing a truck and camper for a weeklong vacation/family reunion for 2 parents, 3 kids, and one supersized dog.)  I plopped on the couch in exhaustion that evening as I decided to “catch up” on my correspondence.

There it was – an e-mail from Lauraine Snelling.  As far as favorite authors go, she is right up there in my top four.  Her Red River of the North series transports me back in time to the homes of my favorite Norwegian immigrants.  My wearied eyeballs came alive when they saw, “Mail from Lauraine Snelling”. (Okay, I know it is probably from an assistant, but Hey! It seemed pretty personal to me.)

I was hoping for an announcement that would proclaim the stage play based on her books set in North Dakota would be upcoming, hoping,  I could get my hands on some tickets.  What I saw instead almost made me drop the computer because I wanted to jump and dance around the living room.  (Did I mention earlier that I was exhausted? That didn’t really happen.)  The jewels of the email were two-fold. Number 1 – a writer’s workshop where she would help writers to hone their art AND Number 2 – Coffee with Ingeborg (more on that in a later post) to which I squealed with glee.  (THAT really did happen.)

Immediately, I contacted the number listed, sent a message to my sisters-in-law (who are also huge fans), and crossed my fingers that I wasn’t too late on either opportunity.

I wasn’t.

I had the most wonderful day last Thursday once again back in North Dakota, transported to the fictional town of Blessing which has been adopted by the very real Drayton.  I spent a day with Lauraine and eight new friends (I seem to have a way of collecting them) learning more about what I didn’t know that I didn’t know about writing and gaining some valuable insight.

Upon arrival, my thoughts were centered around Lauraine Snelling – I mean, THE Lauraine Snelling – such that I was giddy with excitement.

Among my favorites, I have to admit that she is no Dr. Seuss (of course, I have to wait to heaven now to meet him), but after spending the day with her, her ranking in my favorites moved right on up. Look out Beverly Cleary!  In a one-day workshop, she answered many of my questions and self-doubts, but she also affirmed I am doing some things well.  I learned that she has many of the same struggles that I do (losing a child, life getting in the way, the need to take breaks, her love of God, and the most important one – she is a HUGGER!)

It was the latter two that stole my heart.  Very early in her instruction, she spoke about her “conversations with God” which often were when she told God what she wasn’t going to write about something such as historical fiction  (the very thing for which she is most famous).  As she spoke, I could feel the joy in my heart dance.  It was the first time I had been at writer’s event where God was so openly shared.  It felt like a homecoming because, she, all my new friends, and her book characters were God’s friends too.  What a game changer!

The second shared character trait was discovered at our first real break of the day  – LUNCH!  After a visit to the salad bar, Lauraine walked around the room and “had to lay her hands” on each of us.  Just a quick squeeze of encouragement and thanks!  She wanted to personally tell each one of us that she was so thankful and happy we attended.

Later when she spoke on grief and how it changes everything.  I sat with tears in my eyes across the table from her.  She was no longer – TEACHER, but became the friend who walks in the shoes I walk – GRIEVING MOTHER.

At that moment, I knew that God had brought me to the point of exhaustion the day I received that email; so that I would have this very encounter with her.  His message (through her words that day) was loud and clear.  Do not be discouraged when you feel you aren’t getting enough writing done.  Do not be despondent when you feel that you should accomplished more.   Press on knowing your story is touching the lives of others. 

Lauraine Snelling

So to my husband who said it was okay to drop everything and go off for four days, thank you for that gift.  To our cousins, aunt and uncle who embodied the gift of hospitality in the Blessing books, thank you for taking in this little traveler.  To the people of Drayton, thank you for adopting Blessing as your own.  To my new friends, you are treasured.  To Lauraine – well, actually to God – THANK YOU for bringing this blessing of a woman into my life.

I couldn’t be more BLESSED, and hoping that last hug we shared won’t be the last!

Thanking God for North Dakota

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Hey Dad –

I spent some time away this past weekend.  Much of the time it was just you and me, and we had a lot of time to talk.  I will confess that more of the time I talked, and you listened.  Together we spent some time in worship.  That is the amazing thing about travel time.  I can make a joyful noise to my heart’s content.  There were much appreciated quiet times.  It was during those silent moments that I was moved to tears.  Your creation just does that to me.

Home is something that has been loosely defined by this girl with a nomadic past. My version of home can be the moment in a conversation where I realize how blessed I am by the company you have given me.  Home will always be the emerald coast of Florida’s panhandle with snowy white beaches and all the memories and people of my childhood.  The sanctuary of home is eternally wherever Daniel and our children waltz the delicate  dance steps of life. Uncovering the treasures therein, my garden is one of the places where I feel closest to you; so home has to be found there as well.

I didn’t realize until my trip this weekend how much I realized that North Dakota feels like one step away from you and thus home.  Sometimes, I think that heaven’s gate is just around the next field.  I think my affirmation came when the tears began to well up in my eyes just marveling at the expansive sky and verdant fields.  No place on earth does that to me like a highway in what some aptly call “God’s Country”.

north dakota

I want to thank you for all the places I call home, and most specifically today, for the place called North Dakota.  Thank you for a sky so large your breath is literally taken away by its beauty.  Thank you for rich and fertile soil that grows such beautiful crops.  That same rich soil is where we chose to return the shell of our son.  His earthly resting place is in one with such beauty where ducks fly over, deer frolic, and prairie grasses whisper in the wind.  Thank you for fields of sunflowers that could make any heart leap for joy.  I praise you for the people of the Dakotas who are truly some of your finest masterpieces.

Thank you for creating the people that brought me to and who keep me tied to that prairie land.  First it was my parents who transplanted a Southern girl to the plains and who created family all those miles away.  Then my heart was lovingly anchored there by the Dakota boy I married as well as our extended family who keep me dreaming of the next visit.

Humbled, rejuvenated, connected, but most of all, loved, I am so thankful for the time I spent in the Red River Valley this weekend.

Thank you for creating North Dakota as a place where my soul finds rest.

Love always,

Your Daughter

Manny and Nora

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Dear Manny & Nora:

I  never had the opportunity to meet you in person, because you had already gone home before I came into your family.  My family and I just spent the weekend wrapped in love in North Dakota surrounded by ninety of your children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and even one great-great granddaughter.  That was only the number of those who could attend this year, and a few of your cousins and second cousins came along too!  I had such an amazing experience (as did my whole family) that I wanted to write to you about the family reunion.  To the Dakota prairie we all travel as if spellbound for the lure of the sacred water gently calling our names like the siren song, only in our journey we wash up in the arms of a loved one saying, “I’m so glad to see you.”

Eighty-two years ago, the two of you were young and starting out a new life together, not knowing what legacy you would leave in this world.  The first description of that legacy would be a whole lot of family.  Whether by blood or marriage, we number well past one hundred and twenty-five.  After shaking the sheer overwhelming nature of headcounts, the only thing you feel is love – that holds us all together with heaven’s gossamer when we are away from this place.

Remaining Sisters (aka Queen's Court)

Remaining Sisters (aka Queen’s Court)

You raised a great group of kids, and your grandkids are amazingly talented people in all facets of life – hard workers and excellent parents.  (Of course, I am pretty partial to one of your grandsons.) Your sons married wonderful wives, and your daughters are the thread that holds this family together.   Like the reunion t-shirts proclaimed, family is cherished here.  Based on my personal observations as granddaughter-in-law, you raised people to love God, love each other, have fun, be lighthearted, eat and cook well, laugh heartily, enjoy life’s little moments, and make music with your voice and your heart.

I would have to write a book on the beauty of it all, but in a nutshell this is what I experienced over the weekend.

  • Piles and piles of rich foods (lovingly prepared, savored, and devoured) – including recipes passed down directly from you.
  • More hugs than I think have ever been recorded.  Some in greetings, some in farewells, but most, just because we were so glad to be together.
  • Tears of joy and tears of sadness for all of life’s miracles and heartaches.
  • Laughter that had to bring joy to the heavens.
  • Prairie winds, sun, and storms – which brought us together in more ways than one.
  • Swapping of old stories and family lines (who is related to whom and how)
  • Teenagers coming out their shells and emerging as beautiful people – ready to carry the torch of family for future generations
  • Godchildren and godparents
  • Healthy competitions and gentle ribbing
  • Quality time spent fishing, visiting, eating, playing cards, or gathering around the campfire
  • Babies and septuagenarians
  • Relationships strengthened and built
  • Handmade love lavished on the little ones.
  • Gifts that made thousand mile journeys.
  • Superheroes – those who made cabbage rolls, Ironman protecting us at supper, and who could ever forget Spiderma’am

ironmanspiderma'am

  • Legends – best cinnamon rolls in the world, first fish caught, and jokes that never get old
  • Singing around a campfire (or in a makeshift group out of the storm), but singing just to be together.
  • Songs in memory, in tradition, and in tribute.
  • So many pictures that we should all have eye troubles for a while
  • Reunion traditions – old and new – fashion shows that rival Paris runways
  • Sadness for those unable to travel and for those who have gone to join you, followed by happiness because we are cloaked in so many happy memories.
A small gathering

A small gathering

We have weathered life’s journey well.  We have sojourned through the celebrations of  births, baptisms, graduations, and weddings, mourning tragedies, deaths, and defeats.  Together we have hated cancer, loved each other, and rejoiced in gathering. As we prepared to leave that sacred and blessed time, it took at least an hour to say good-bye.  There were that many necks to hug, and I can only imagine that it will take us that long to enter heaven because of the hugs awaiting our arrival.

In case they don’t know already, we will just have to show all of heaven how we do things – Nowatzki-style!

Photos by Amy Schuler, Jason Schuler, Sawyer Stevens, and Emily Currier Nowatzki

It’s just a number

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kurtisI had the pleasure of having breakfast with my almost ten-year-old nephew this morning.  In a houseful of people gearing up for a family vacation/reunion, a quiet conversation is rare.  I’m so glad it happened.  After exchanging pleasantries of “How did you sleep?” and “How did you NOT hear that storm”, my sweet boy revealed where his heart is at today.

If you ever experience quiet moments, you will “hear” much about a person’s heart, and at the very least, those things troubling their mind.  So it was at Grandma’s table today.  In between bites of banana bread, K explained that he was sad that he was in a level of swimming lessons below where he and his momma thought he should be.

What a precious moment for an auntie!  I don’t believe in coincidences, but I do believe that God orchestrates the timing of where I need to be when I need to be there.  Today was proof positive.  I shared that I never finished swimming lessons at his age because I hated getting my face in the water.  My husband shared that I still hate it which is why I use a snorkel all the time.  I can swim for miles with my adaptation.  I also told K that no matter what level becoming a strong swimmer is important (because it could one day save his life).

But this is where the conversation changed . . . as a teacher I have seen so much emphasis placed on numbers that I think it has filtered over into everything that our children do.  Scratch that, numbers have become a filter in how we all see life.

Warning – this is a soapbox issue for me!  Hear me roar!

To the student who didn’t score as well on the test: That number written on that paper or letter from the standardized test company doesn’t define who you are.  It doesn’t define your future – no matter what anybody says.  It may prevent you from attending certain universities, but given today’s economic climate, it might not. Even if it does, bloom where you land anyways.  Remember it is you, and not the university, that is the product of which to be proud.  I don’t know a single adult my age that goes around spouting their test scores, because frankly, nobody cares because that number isn’t what makes you successful.  It’s just a number.

To the kid who works hard every day to practice, but doesn’t score the winning shot/goal/touchdown:  The information recorded in the books is just a number.  What you do matters.  The old saying is true.  There is no “I” in TEAM.  Every member of a team is important. To me, numbers of assists always tell me more about your willingness to be a part of a team. I know it might not feel that way, but the skills (persistence, dedication, loyalty, perseverance) you learn from being a part of group are far more critical to your future development that what is written in the scorebook.  It’s just a number.

To women everywhere who worry about the scale:  With tears in my eyes, I am telling you unless you need that thing for medical purposes, go right now and THROW it out.  I have so many friends that talk about losing those extra 10, 20, or 50 pounds.  If you want to do that for you or your health, go for it!  But if your motivation is because someone else’s definition of beauty doesn’t include those extra pounds, it is all rubbish! I am going to be honest with you.  Your size matters much less than the character of your heart.  Sometimes, I wish I could remove my eyes just so you could see what I see when I see you.  I think you would be shocked if you did. All you would see is beauty!  It’s just a number.

To those who focus on the calendar age:  If you had nothing left to contribute, God would have taken you home already.  There is a reason for your being here.  I know you may not be as spry as you once were, but I am not looking for spry.  I like many other women are looking for mentors to love us, to remind us of God’s truth and promises,  and to share with us your life (including mistakes and wrinkles).  That matters!  Even if the world standard is newer, faster, or stronger, I have found more quiet strength in sitting hand-in-hand with eighty and ninety year olds than anyone could ever imagine.  Age – It’s just a number.

I didn’t give my little nephew the full brunt of this rant, but I did ask him three questions.

  • Does which swimming level you are in define who you are?
  • Does which swimming level you are in make us love you anymore or any less?
  • Does which swimming level you are in change that you are loved child of God?

Sitting there with bedhead hair and Angry Birds jammies, his twinkling eyes told me he knew the answer to all three.  I pray every day that all the world will know that while numbers are fun (for some of us), for much of life, they are just numbers.

Thanking God today for banana bread and little boys.

PS – By the way in God’s eyes, you are absolutely, positively one of the best “numbers” He’s ever created!

What my soul needed

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Aruba, Jamaica, ooh I wanna take ya

Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama

Key Largo, Montego

Baby why don’t we go?

Jamaica

Up north to the town, Leeds

Um? Kandy?

That is not how the song lyrics go.

Yes, I would agree with your assessment. And No! This isn’t one of those times when I actually couldn’t understand the words and used my imagination to make up my own.  I will assert that my own lyrics are sometimes much more entertaining than the originals.

Actually, this time  I made this version as I was walking down a partially gravel road (3rd St S to be exact) in Leeds, ND last night.  I was walking from Great Aunt Mary’s house to Lorraine’s (Daniel’s mom) house following an amazing supper on the front lawn – labor of love of three generations of Nowatzki’s.

The meal was caught, cleaned, battered, fried, prepared, eaten, and washed up with “all hands on deck”.  While sitting on the lawn, I could feel deeply, an overwhelming sense of joy overcome my heart.

I have to confess that I was incredibly excited for our family reunion and seeing all of our family, but I have been carrying around an aching sadness.  I have been yearning for the vacation we had planned to take this year for Reed’s graduation (much like the ones in the beginning of the song).  Sadly, a myriad of reasons put the kibosh on that plan.

So going to one of our “homes” (again I was excited to do) is the only vacation we are taking this year as a family.

After that multi-generational dinner – which was less about filling my stomach and more about replenishing my soul – I took that short walk to have a quiet conversation with God.

Rested and relaxed, I realized this is truly what a vacation is meant to be.

No stress. . . no worries. . . and filled with things loved.  (Of course, I love the sea too, but this time God granted me insight into the vacation I needed and not the one I wanted.)

As I walked, I thought back to the last couple of days and all the things I didn’t see on travel sites and travel brochures.

  • Little kids running between houses with imaginations longer than the hours of the day
  • Sun-soaked hair that shows hours spent playing outside or at the city pool
  • Cousins that have never met having sleepovers and making instant connections
  • One sweetie catching her first fish (and it was a whopper) and teaching her the fine art of telling a fisherman’s tale
  • Taking a late night trip to the train station to pick up a cousin I had never met
  • Hugging everyone many times a day
  • Having a special “graduation” moment for Reed wrapped in the loving arms of my cousin, Amy
  • Walking everywhere, seldom with a destination in mind
  • Quilting and sharing lots of love and memories
  • Three o’clock chocolate breaks
  • The goofiness of teenagers
  • Late night sessions of packed tables with stories being swapped in every direction
K's first fish - photo bomb courtesy of my girl, E.

K’s first fish – photo bomb courtesy of my girl, E.

No agendas . . . other than to love each and every moment.

In the few block walk, I confessed to God that I needed an attitude of the heart adjustment. Instead of worrying about what I thought I wanted (dare I say I thought I “deserved”), I began to appreciate what I have (a message resonating with me in many aspects of my life).  I’m glad that in just a few short days, He showed me that what I needed to have a revival of my spirit He had already provided. Perhaps it would be best to get out of my own way.

For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel encumbered by all my worries.  Today, I am thanking God for family reunions, soul refreshment (by letting go), and of course, dusty dirt roads.

The flight of hope

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One of the things I like most about myself is my love of nature.  I can sit for hours in my garden watching bugs, flowers, the sky, and just about anything else that goes on out there.  Nature and creation fascinate me.  That healthy sense of curiosity is probably one of the driving forces to me becoming a science teacher.

The more time I spend in God’s word, the more I realize how much nature is tucked into the verses.  With each new discovery in verse and in nature, I feel like I am drawn closer to God.  On a recent trip out to a friend’s farm, my senses were on overload.

Heaven and earth are full of your glory . . .

The sky was filled with blue gray skies as a small rain had just dampened the parched ground.  The smell of rain permeated our vehicle.  That is an amazing smell. Is it one of the smells of heaven?  The prairie roses were thick in the roadside ditches.  But the best part was the witness of a tiny escort as we drove down the lane to their home.

A flicker of bright gold feathers boldly flew right in front of us until we reached the house.  I was captivated by the flash of colors and the bold courage of one so small.  Even my husband remarked at his beauty, later confessing that it was the second time in a week that he had witnessed one escorting us.  (Apparently, I had nodded off in the car the first time; so, he had a private audience with the little friend.)

Photo: thefixer/Flickr

Photo: thefixer/Flickr

I was on heaven’s cloud nine taking in all the sights and sounds of beauty on the prairie.  Gorgeous doesn’t even seem to begin to be a big enough word to convey the scene.

Later that evening as we were preparing for bed, I shared with my sweetie what joy I felt in my heart.  The goldfinch is our little Clo’s bird (the one she receives as an ornament each Christmas).  The first one appeared in our yard, shortly after the loss of Clo’s twin in utero.  I have always seen that first appearance as a sign of God’s promise of hope.  I didn’t understand it at the time, because we didn’t know that we were still pregnant with the other twin, Cloie.  Something about the bright cheery color of the male plumage just exudes hope.

It was during our bedtime conversation that my husband shared the earlier encounter with the other finch.  Revealing a piece of my heart, I told him that each time I see one darting about, I think of our other tiny little girl.  Teary-eyed, I explained how I wonder if she is as spunky as her sister and if she too holds a bundle of energy inside a head of curls and face full of freckles.

While I will always have notes of sadness in my life’s song, I cannot help but be filled with soaring bars of hope each and every time I see a goldfinch fly.

Sing to the Lord a new song;
sing to the Lord, all the earth. Psalm 96:1 (NIV)

If creation will let me, I am going to be singing along.

Blessed is

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This last week has been one of wonders for me.  So instead of a traditional blog with a story, I am going to just tell it in snippets with a few pictures thrown in for good measure.

Bliss is working together as a family for four days straight side-by-side to reach a common goal.

Celebration is seeing the chaos of your life begin to dissipate.

Awe is discovering that wayward tree growing in your lilac bushes is actually a mulberry tree your boys planted years ago on Arbor Day.

blog pic 17

Happiness is realizing you didn’t cut it down when you first discovered its appearance above the hedge.

Wonder is spending forty-five minutes watching monarch caterpillars munch on milkweed leaves in your garden.

blog pic 16

Satisfaction is realizing that when others thought you were weird for planting milkweed you were confident God would bring the butterflies.

Excitement is letting out a squeal of delight when you see the life-sized mechanical dinosaur move.

blog pic 15

(Of course, this kind of delight may cause one of your best friends to almost run off the road.)

Thankfulness is knowing she loves you anyways – even if you are a science geek with a child-like love for dinosaurs.

Awe-inspiring is watching your little girl see a friend she met only once before walk hand-in-hand with that friend immediately while introducing her to her other friends.

Proud is watching the fruits of your friends’ labors create one of the most amazing small town open air markets I have ever enjoyed.

Tasty is bringing home those labors and enjoying every single bite.

Joy is watching your children smile – even in life’s smallest moments.

Amazement is being surrounded by your family and friends watching fireworks.

Rapture is swapping stories at our favorite viewing site.

Crazy is finding prairie roses in the ditch and wishing to bring them home to your garden.

blog pic 18

Crazy love is a dear friend getting you the shovel.

Captivating is finding a killdeer nest in the community garden.

Nurturing is making little flags that warn others not to disturb the eggs.

Exuberance is espying the first lightning bug of the year!

Blessed is my life!

First world problems

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A dear friend of mine has a wonderful blog, and she recently shared about her realization of how some of her quirks might need minor adjustments. http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2013/07/762/

Before I go any farther, if you think that you don’t have any quirks and that I am judging my friend, rest assured I am not.  We all have quirks –especially me (like my need to have all of my beverages completely filled with ice so that they are cold enough).  Nine times out of ten, those personality characteristics are what I love the most about my friends.  Trust me, I am not living over here in my glass house because I know many people the world over would love clean drinking water while I am complaining that my drink isn’t cold enough.  I get it.

I am acutely aware that even despite the tragedies that have befallen our family I am still more blessed than 95% of the world’s population.  That awareness is something that I am trying to instill in my children as they are becoming older and much more world savvy.  No name brand or one singular item will define the character of your heart.  Hard work and serving others is much more important than momentary thrill of a purchase.  These aren’t just platitudes for me, and I am trying on a regular basis to let my life’s choices be an example to my children.   Sometimes I don’t think they are listening.

I couldn’t be more wrong.

One day, our daughters were bickering in the van about something so trivial I cannot even remember what it was.  They both had valid points, but in the end of the day, they were clothed, nourished physically and spiritually, and housed.  The thing they were arguing about was not life threatening nor earth shaking; so I pointed out to them that their conflict was a “first world problem” suggesting that they should agree to disagree and move on.

They acquiesced, and our whole family started quoting lines from a family favorite video: Top 100 First World Problems by Scooter Magruder, as we continued on down to our destination. Upon arrival at the local big box hardware store, we made  a quick double-check of our list to create a game plan for this excursion in the midst of our home remodeling.

As we opened the doors to the van, our littlest was searching for her shoes.  Under the seat, next to the seat, in the back of the van, in my purse (as if they would be there), and on the ground – they were nowhere to be found.  I know I grumbled a bit asking if she wore shoes to the store.  She assured me she thought she did.  My annoyance wouldn’t have been so bad if we hadn’t just gone through the same thing a week before when we drove THREE HOURS to pick up her brother from med school camp –  only to discover she was sans shoes.  We had to go to the Mecca of the South and buy shoes before the closing ceremonies, forcing us to enter late (something I detest doing).

There was no rescuing her this time; so, I scooped her up (which was a challenge as she is getting tall) and carried her into the store with bare piggies.  On our way in, I was chiding her for not bringing shoes.  I reminded her this was crazy,  and she was old enough to be responsible for her own shoes.

Then it came:  wisdom wrapped up in a long-legged, curly-headed, freckled-face eight year old little girl.

“You know, Momma.  This is a first world problem.  Lots of kids around the world don’t even have shoes.”

Touché, my little Sally Gal. Touché.

They are listening.  They are always listening.  Be mindful of what you say, and even more mindful of what your actions speak.  I know I am definitely trying to be much more particular!

Clo's keens

By the way if you need a chuckle, check out Scooter’s video on youtube. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gXCsRlpbqPM