Tag Archives: North Dakota

Standing on the shoulders of giants

Last week, my sweetie and I traveled back in time to the college town where we met. It was just the two of us travelling the almost three hundred miles (one-way) to the North Dakota prairie and home again that day. We visited the old Mayville State campus, went to the place of our first date, and visited with some dear, dear friends, including the matron of honor from our wedding.

The first thing that struck me was how we were transformed just pulling into town. It was if we were lighter, remembering who we were before the hardships of life had crossed our paths. The next thing I noticed was that while much progress has been made, there are some things that hadn’t changed a bit such as the sandwich we ordered on our first date twenty-five years ago is still on the menu.

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But the thing that made the biggest impact on our visit was just how long love and influence last.

I wish, oh how I dearly wish, the reason for the two of us to take off in the middle of the week was because we need to go back and the tickle the roots of our relationship. Yet, sadly that would not be the truth. Even though reconnecting with one of my college best friends, picking up where we had last left off, was a beautiful moment, the gathering was due to the passing of her dad, who happened to be our physics professor. Mr. W was also my science education professor. Considering how I currently hold the same position at a university across the border, to say he was influential in my life would be an understatement.

The gathering was bittersweet. The reminiscing was incredible as we laughed about so many stories from our days as science majors and all the studying we did to accomplish top marks. (Or at least the best marks we could.) More on that in a bit. Yet the ironic sadness of the last two times we have been together were because we lost someone dear (my son and her dad) was not lost on me.

Yet rather than lay low in the valley, I want to remember and in the remembering honor the man who really shaped my future as a science teacher. Attending a tiny university was one of the best decisions I ever made, and one that I have never regretted. One of the benefits (of which there were many) was the small class sizes and the opportunity to develop relationships with the professors.

mr-w

Mr W was a dandy! He had a great sense of humor and a penchant for the dramatic at times. He held incredibly high standards and he never expected we were capable of anything but meeting them. He also had an understanding of the forward march of education and the jobs we future science teachers would be facing.

Let’s face it. Physics is tough stuff. Mr W always knew that we would encounter a few challenges, and he would answer our questions with a humorous, “Well, what in the cat hair?” Then, he would roll up his sleeves and model his thinking so that we could all understand how to dissect a problem like a physicist. But more importantly, his methods never diminished the struggle and he always made us feel like he was a co-partner in learning.

As for his standards, his was the first class in which I earned a B in college. But standing firm in his high standards meant that he believed I was capable of so much more than I dreamed and he held me and my classmates accountable to what he saw in each of us. Of course, I have jokingly shared the story of the physics final where I needed a 42 out of a 40 to earn an A in the course. His exam was my first real act of rebellion in all my schooling (unless you count the time a handful of classmates and I sang “Let my people go” in the lunchroom when our high school didn’t close with an impending hurricane). The physics tests were always full of choices (pick a certain number of 2 point multiple choice problems and a certain number of 10 point constructed response problems from a wide sample). I needed only a 2 out of a 40 for a B. I walked in answered two multiple choice questions, got up, handed in my test paper, and walked out. The look on Mr. W’s face was priceless. It wasn’t that I was defeated, but rather an acknowledgement of the other two tests I had that week – Calculus IV and Organic Chemistry. If Mr W was a betting man, he would have chuckled at my gamble.

But probably the biggest impact was all the ways he influenced my future teaching practice. From the way he made every learner feel as they were the most important person in the room to his always infectious smile and “Hi-ya” greeting, his relationship building methods were lasting. His ability to look at a classroom full of eager learners and polish us until we shined by always providing challenging and rigorous material while simultaneously providing support was legendary. He had a character that appeared in his problems, Johnny Kilowatt and ask any of my former junior or senior high science students, Johnny Cheapskate taught us all a lot about chemistry and physics. I may even squeeze a “What in the cat hair?” every now and again too.

See – that it is the impact of a genuinely amazing teacher. It would be hard for me to separate my practice from the incredible teachers who invested their very best time and energy in me. As the wife of another one of my favorite professors offered at Mr. W’s service, we who loved him as our teacher “stand on the shoulders of giants”.

I am so deeply saddened by his passing, but I am thankful for a small gesture that I began practicing shortly after graduating. I went back to the college and personally thanked each one of the giants upon whose shoulders I stand. My gratitude was met with hugs, tears, and yes, one ubiquitous “Hi-ya”, but seeing the heartfelt response to my admiration is something I will never forget.

Even in his passing, I took one last time to say thanks. I could think of no better goodbye than to say that he personally made a huge difference in my life.

We all have the opportunity to offer a small act of great love. This week is National Education Week. Think back to the teachers who helped shape you or who truly made a difference in your life. Take the time to send a short message of thankfulness. If you have children in school, ask them to do the same.

Even though I earned a B in his course, his lasting legacy earned an A in my heart and I believe teachers are doing the same thing every day in the lives of millions of students.

Take time to thank a teacher.

I’m pretty sure Mr W would be proud if we did.

When adventures melt your heart

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Ponce de Leon

Lewis & Clark

Indiana Jones (Okay, I know he isn’t real, but he is one of my favorite fictional explorers.)

Jacques Cousteau

Reed Stevens

That last one is definitely real, but relatively unknown in the world of great adventurers and explorers. Reed and his trusty sidekick, Huckleberry were the rarest of adventurers. Every day, they were outside battling all kinds of foes. The neighbors never really knew the troubles which befell our street. Thankfully, the boy and his dog saved us from the worst calamities – dragons, pirates, aliens, and of course, the rare evil villains normally conquered by superheroes. The rest of us innocently went about the busyness of our days, oblivious to the perils surrounding us.

Thankfully, our boy was ever vigilant, because his imagination was packed on every trip and vacation. A quick look out of the camper would find him engaged in an epic duel with a heretofore unknown baddie. His enthusiasm for the stories his mind created carried over into the some of the most interesting places, including his grandmother’s treasured (no pun intended) vegetable garden.

One year, my sweetie and I decided to take a much-needed parents-only vacation. We trekked to North Dakota in a minivan filled with kids, suitcases, a few fries on the floorboards and visions of sleeping in and eating grown up food swirling in our heads. Dropping the kids at Grandma’s house, we hopped a train on tracks which literally followed in the long forgotten prairie footsteps of Lewis and Clark heading westward.

Refreshed and renewed we returned to learn of the fun created by our boy, his siblings, and cousins. Every good grandma has a junk drawer. Grandma Lorraine has one to rival all others. In a moment of sheer genius (or boredom – one can never tell in these moments) Reed convinced Grandma to allow the gang to bury some of the items from her stash of once loved, but now neglected, items to create a treasure map.

Adventure rarely leaves the explorer, but sometimes the great ones leave us much too early. Although I am certain he would have continued to create glorious and epic scenes here on earth, God called him home to heaven, what I can only imagine is the greatest place of exploration, at twelve years old.

When you love someone with that much creative and imaginative force in the world, his absence leaves a craterous hole in your existence. A few years after his passing, we quite accidentally stumbled upon a way to fill in some of the excitement for which we silently longed.

Our find – geocaching – was one that we know without a doubt, Reed would have loved. After gaining some experience (the rest of us were, of course, novice adventurers), we decided to create a geocache in memory of our great explorer. But where? Where would we place such a worthy remembrance? We considered North Dakota, where our adventurer now rests, just a mile or so away from his buried treasure spot.

Believe me, the gut-wrenching irony of one of my greatest treasures buried in the same fertile prairie soil is not lost on me.

Eventually we decided it would be more fun to show the rest of the world a spot he loved closer to our home, settling on our favorite place to snowshoe. Nestled in a relatively unknown location right on the campus of our local university, we spent many days were spent hiking and snowshoeing throughout the trails there. If he were here, Reed would tell you his favorite part was when we would go on the trails deep in the woods and he would wait for just the right place to tap a tree, causing a mini-avalanche of snow to land on the person behind him. Often that person, I would not recall that as my favorite part. Adventure and a wicked sense of humor make for a very interesting combination.

It was the perfect place to share our boy and brother with the rest of the adventuring world. Securing the proper permission, we logged our cache on the world’s greatest treasure hunt www.geocaching.com and hoped that some would find the treasure. They did; many extolling they would have never known Reed’s favorite spot existed.

Notifications from treasure hunters usually arrive at those moments when we could really use a pick me up. For this we can only thank God and smile remembering a boy we all love (never in the past tense, because he will always be a part of our lives).

That very thing happened last week at work. It was one of those days when the passion I pour into being an educator exhausted me until . . . one of my colleagues stopped by my office to share about her class. Holding up a tiny baseball card featuring a familiar face, she melted my heart, reminding me I work at one of the best places in the world. I believe all the great explorers have one major thing in common: an insatiable curiosity, a drive to know more and more about the world – its beauty and its people. Reed lived life large. Some of his greatest influences were teachers who dared him to dream BIG. Holding back a few tears, I hope my colleague knows one little redheaded boy would be thrilled to know a classroom full of future teachers were inspired to dream and to someday plant those dream seeds in the imaginations of their students.

I know for sure his momma was!

Here’s to the red-headed wonders, explorers, adventurers, teachers and students: DREAM ON!

The place that never leaves you . . .

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We have had a few visits with Super S and his “Plus One” since they left to chase their dreams and what God has called them to do. This previous summer, I had the opportunity to go back and relive some of the “glory days”. During that visit, I realized that even though I would truly miss my son, the one whom I have spent hours in hospitals and clinics for the last seven years, I truly wished for him to have the stories and experiences college had for me and my sweetie.

The transformation from trepidation to excitement began at Super S’s graduation weekend when we learned of a wonderful opportunity which Sal could attend back at a place our hearts hold dear – our alma mater. S’s godmother told us about a STEM (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics) camp which Sal and her son could attend together. Be still my science teacher’s heart!

Maybe I am wrong in my thinking, but I believe most graduates of small colleges and universities keep a spot reserved in their souls for the place that launched them into adulthood. Graduating from the same university a couple years apart, my sweetie and I often speak of our years there with the same nostalgia. Our time at Mayville State University was a cherished part of our lives.

I just didn’t know how much so until I made a pilgrimage there to spend a week with Sal while she attended camp, mere steps down the hall from where I spent hours earning a chemistry degree.

Due to serving in a war thousands of miles from that idyllic place, my husband and I did not graduate together, and a few months after his commencement, we loaded up the truck and moved hundreds of miles away. Once upon a time we had family living in the town that shares its name with the university, but after they moved away, our trips to our old college home grew farther and farther apart. Other than a recent funeral, we hadn’t spent quality time in the area in close to a decade. Within seconds of arriving in the small North Dakota town which rests on the edge of the rolling Red River Valley, floods of memories and “Oh, we have to do this or eat there!” came rushing into my thoughts.

The first place we stopped when rolling into town.

The School of Personal Service is a motto that expects much and often delivers more. I don’t think I realized how much so until my mini-me and I spent a week there, including residing at the farm where I was a nanny during my college days.

Sal and I toured every inch of Mayville State, ate at all my favorite local dining establishments, spent an afternoon at the nearby lake, and soaked up every adventure at the farm. While she learned about science, I spent my hours reminiscing and working on my book. Somewhere deep in the recesses of my brain a switch magically clicked into high gear, my body remembering the long hours spent studying in that environment, and some great book writing came pouring out. If I could survive the intricacies of PChem (Physical Chemistry), writer’s block would have no chance in these hallowed halls.

Catching up with the world while taking a break from writing

Every friend I encountered brought me back to our days there. Catching up and recalling memories of days long ago sometimes brought laughter and sometimes a few tears. The very best recollection was how the school’s motto proved to mean something more to my family than just launching our careers.

It all started my senior year when half-way around the world a larger country decided to invade a tiny neighbor. America heard the cry for help and sent the Army, including a very young North Dakotan to fight for freedom. At that time, I was already dreaming of returning to the South with plans of an internship in one state and graduate school in another. Patriotism is another one of those things small towns do well, and Mayville State was no different. A huge banner that looked like a parchment scroll was hung in the cafeteria listing the names of our soldiers in the desert. I spent one quarter at a different university, returning the next fall to the place I truly loved. During the one quarter’s absence, my sweetie began his studies. Our paths never crossed and we never met. Every day when waiting in line for lunch, I would ponder that list of soldiers knowing everyone on the list except one name. Mayville State was tiny; so, I began to ask others if anyone knew of this “Dan Stevens”. Sadly, no one did, and I began to wonder if he was fictional, the Comets’ own version of “G.I. Joe”.

I did leave the safety of academia and set off to Tennessee for an internship and later to Alabama to study more chemistry, coming back to be in a wedding and at Christmas to visit my family. During that holiday visit the school’s motto became more than eloquent words etched on the school’s emblem. Even though Christmas meant time with the family that reared and raised me, I couldn’t resist visiting my “other family” – some of the most amazing and truly dear professors. A small suggestion happened innocently enough by two of them. There was this nice boy in the Chemistry and Math courses, who the Doctors’ thought I should probably meet. I had never really been on a blind date before, but my reverence for those two faculty members pushed me to agree to this crazy plan.

One blind date and the rest is history. School of personal service . . . it doesn’t get more personal than handpicking your husband for you.

Coming back to school for a one week reminded me of all the university had bestowed in my life. I left there with much more than a degree and a stunning panoramic photo for our wall. I gained a confidence to tackle any challenging problem, a compassion and desire to serve others, a resiliency that would serve me well in dark days, and a lifetime of memories of lasting friendships, including the love of my life. After a couple days back on campus, I realized that while I had left Mayville State . . . Mayville State had never left my heart.

Its impact etched permanently, like a powerful force in the universe – once a Comet, always a Comet!

Mini-me and I just outside Old Main on her last day of STEM camp

Oh and by the way,it wasn’t until years later, after we were married and Reed was a newborn I realized who I had married. I woke up one night after dreaming of my college days, and blurted out in the darkness, “Oh my goodness! You ARE Dan Stevens!”

Cowabunga Dude

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Growing up, I was the only girl on one side of my extended family for many years. Then, they just kept bringing home one little girl after another for a lot of years. When it was just me and the boys, I learned to love a lot of things that my brother and cousins did. Do not get me wrong. I was ALL GIRL, playing countless hours of dollies dreaming of the day I would have a huge family, but I loved baseball, football, muscle cars, building things, and superheroes as much as they did. I am so thankful those conventions of my childhood are starting to break down.

The first weekend I met my future in-laws we took all the grandkids (one niece and two nephews at that time) to a petting zoo. I don’t remember why there was a petting zoo, but I do recall pushing the old umbrella style stroller with my little tow-headed niece down the streets of Leeds, North Dakota.

From the first moment, I was smitten. If I wasn’t going to marry this wonderful guy, could I, at least, keep these kiddos and this family? When I later learned that the oldest nephew loved a certain clan of superheroes, this news only solidified my thoughts of love at first sight. My future nephew’s favorite was the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. For years, my sweetie and I would search high and low to find the perfect TMNT items for Derek’s gifts for Christmas and birthday. Whenever we would visit, we would watch the cartoons together. All these years later, Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo, Leonardo, and Master Splinter feel like old friends. I can never take a home-baked pizza out of the oven, and not think of one of the turtles wearing oven mitts doing the same thing.

Over the years, his interests changed as he grew and matured, and he is now a husband and daddy himself. But I never forgot about all the hours we would spend bonding over the latest way our favorite mutant reptiles would battle Shredder and his lackeys, Bebop and Rocksteady. Many times in my daydreams, I remember joy savored in the days long gone. So this last year I put my mind to preserving some of that joy by making a quilt for Derek and his little girl for his birthday and her Christmas present.

I thought this would be a great plan since our TMNT friends were making a comeback. Maybe if I lived in a larger area or maybe if I was a last minute gift planner, that plan would have come to fruition easier. It however did not. I could not physically find fabric anywhere. Rather than despairing, I called my sister (I dropped the in-law moniker years ago) and asked if by chance she had saved any of the bedding our boy had years ago. Not only did she, but she had just ran across it! As a busy mom of busy kids, knowing where something is located is a incredible feat in and of itself.

Words do not adequately express how thrilled I was when I got the flannel fitted sheet, but I will confess to being more than a little nervous. This worn flannel was a precious part of his childhood. I had a hard time cutting it into quilt squares. Once I finally mustered the courage, there was no turning back. I wanted the quilt to be cuddle sized for each recipient, and I wanted a simple design that exuded all things cartoon turtle. It didn’t take long to choose a fleece blanket backing with flannel squares in orange (for Mikey), red (for Raph), blue (for Leo), purple (for Donnie), and turtle green. The only difference between daddy’s and daughter’s quilts would be the addition of some denim squares in the larger quilt and a different sized quilt blocks due to the nature of the repeating pattern of the original sheet.

She shops around for the best yarns and cottons, and enjoys knitting and sewing. ~Proverbs 31:13 (MSG)

While I love quilting, cutting squares is not always my favorite thing to do. I chalk it up to having tiny hands; so I did have more than a few helpers on that part. The piecing and simple tie quilting were all my handiwork and I loved every minute of it. What an honor to accumulate those three original nieces and nephews and to have added four more on that side of the family and five more on the other side of the family! My dreams of a huge family came true, and with that dream came more blessings than I can even count, including these two cuddle bugs for sure.

Thanking God today for all the little boys and girls in my life over the years, and all the great adventures they have added to my world! Cowabunga!

Under the sea

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Although the sun is shining bright on the prairie today, the scene outside my picture window is a little more than fantasy of a beautiful day. The weatherman says the temperature outside feels like 30 below due to the windchill. Morning chores done, I sit wrapped in a blanket surrounded by the glow of candles for a hygge-like trip down memory lane. I need this journey because after reading the letter from the mom of the sweet courageous, selfless young lady who passed on the bus in North Dakota, I am clinging to God’s promises of showers of blessings even in the midst of great trial.

There will be showers of blessings. Ezekiel 34:26

Last August, I embarked on the most amazing trip with my son. In reality, I only spent one day with him because he was attending the National Flight Academy. For me, this trip was one of desiring to place my feet deep within the roots of my childhood, hoping to get tangled there for a while.

After spending a few days with my grandmother, I drove from Opelika to Pensacola to simply hang out with my parents for the rest of the week. I don’t know why, but it was the most magical time I have had in a long run. Truth be told, I haven’t had my parents to myself in forty-two years. I am nothing if not patient, but that was a long time to wait. It was worth it, because we had a blast! (Although, I thought they were trying to kill me when they took this Southern-transplanted Minnesota girl to clean out their storage shed on a 110 degree day.)

My parents have just about everything they could want in terms of material goods; so, a few years ago, I started giving them gifts of trips and adventures. Before I arrived, my dad called and asked if I would want to go with them on one such adventure – a day of snorkeling and kayaking in the Gulf of Mexico. Would I? That was about like asking me if I wanted sweet tea to go with my meal.

I was so excited! A day on my beloved Emerald Coast with just my mom and dad where I didn’t have to worry about anything or anybody! I believe everyone has a place on earth that brings them great joy. Those white sand beaches (and my vegetable garden) are mine.

My happy place!

Driving over to the pier and settling onboard the vessel were fairly uneventful. Although, we did meet a lovely Minnesota born and raised server at the What-A-Burger for breakfast. This will not be much of a shocker but yours truly won a little game called, “Who travelled the farthest to be on our little excursion today!” The prize wasn’t much other than a little repartee with the ship’s captain who happened to hale from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. A free beverage would have been much more appreciated!

The trip to the man-made reef was a surprise all in itself as there were dolphins that escorted us along the way. They are absolutely the most amazing and entertaining hosts. We snorkeled for an hour or so until the tide came in. The fish were as diverse in their beauty as in their number. Even the moon jellies were captivating to watch float by!

Everything’s better down where its wetter . . . under the sea.

The last leg of our trip we journeyed over to the sound side of the island. We set anchor just mere yards away from my sweetie’s retirement village, where boaters anchor and have a floating city all day. Counting the days until that dream becomes a reality – especially on days like this one!

Where we hope to retire!

I will admit that on the way over there I was thinking they really should do this trip in reverse. The sound side is much less adventuresome than the gulf side. I could not have been more wrong in my thinking.

At this point, my mom had more than enough adventure; so it was just my dad and I exploring. I don’t know if it was the adventure part or true to her Southern roots she didn’t want to mess up her hair. (Sorry mom – it was a toss up!) My dad and I soon discovered there was just enough current that you could get in a good work-out without leaving your spot. Like cartoon characters who spin their “wheels” without going anywhere, here we were a mom and grandpa frolicking like we were Neptune’s children, uninhibited without a care in the world.

During that crazy moment was when I uncovered my greatest memento of the day. I reached down and found a complete shell (okay if I was going to get all science teacher on you, I would tell you it was an intact, minus its former inhabitant, bivalve shell). In all my years, I have never found one that still hinged and lined up perfectly like when it was someone’s home. I cradled that sweet treasure in my hands as I ran (I seriously did not care what I looked like) to my sweet mom’s shady spot on the banks of the sound.

At that moment, I wasn’t a forty-something momma and wife, I was transported back to the days of when I put flowers behind my ears for earrings and was the little mermaid I have always believed myself to be. Pure bliss washed over me as I showed her my discovery. It was truly one of my most magical moments!

Today, that little gem of the sea sits on my night stand to remind me of the day when my roots transported me back to a time I had long since forgotten. I might have gotten more tangled in seaweed and less in roots, but it was more than worth it. That tiny little shell is like an Ebenezer stone reminding that joy does come after the storm. Because even though, the Boy Wonder still had another surgery upcoming and the Girl Awesome is still healing, for one day I was simply God’s and my parents’ girl. That is not something to take lightly. If not today, may someday soon will be one where a joy-filled moment finds you!

My version of the Ebenezer stone.

God is our refuge and strength,
    an ever-present help in trouble.
²Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
    and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
³though its waters roar and foam
    and the mountains quake with their surging.^[c]

Psalm 46: 1- 3 (NIV)

Music, like the sound of the waves lapping at the shore, always soothes my soul. This song has brought me comfort in many tear-laden hours wrapped under that quilt. If you are hurting today, may it bring you peace.

What I wish I could say . . .

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Drawing Copyrighted property of Reed’s Run

Last night, I received a text message from my cousin relaying news about another horrific school bus crash. The site of yesterday’s crash – a little over an hour away from where we laid our own sweet boy to rest in North Dakota. Her words sent me to my knees and to the deep recesses of my memories, a place I don’t like to visit. Sadly, I have earned an advanced degree in what lies ahead for BOTH the families of the grieving AND for the families of the injured. Unlike my cousin, I do not know any of them personally. If I did, these are the words I would want to say.

Right now, you feel as if the whole world stopped spinning. There are those who will say, “I know how you feel.” Don’t listen to them. Every person’s story is their own and no one, including me, can ever know exactly how you feel. Your world did stop and as much as I would like to tell you otherwise, it will never be the same.

Breathe. One breath at a time. For a while, maybe even a long while, that will be all your fragile and shocked system will be able to do. There are decisions that will need to be made. Why is it at our lowest moments there are boatloads of decisions that MUST be made. Simply trust that your faith, family, and friends will help guide you. Just breathe. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you will get through this.

In the coming days and weeks, you will discover that you are stronger than you ever knew possible and more loved than you can ever imagine. People – those you know well and those you have never met before – will rally around you. They will dig out crockpots and cake pans, watch your pets, call friends and family, blow snow and pick up mail, hug their kids while they cry for yours, but mostly, they will pray because they don’t know what to do to help you.

Believe me, they will want to help, but all won’t know how to do this gracefully. There are many reasons for this. The biggest of all is what just happened to your family (as what happened to mine) is their worst nightmare. You will be a living reminder that bad things do happen to good people. “Life is absolutely precious and can be gone in an instant” and “I don’t know what I would do if this happened to us” will be at the forefront of their thoughts.

This is where it gets tough because like I said nothing will ever be the same. Some of your friends will not be able to handle their own grief while trying to help you with yours. Remember they love you and your family too. Some will never get over the fact that something bad could happen to their own children. It is too hard of a truth to bear. Others will believe you are enjoying the “fame” that this event will have in your story, as if this is ever how you envisioned the life of your loved ones. Know that you did nothing wrong. Know they didn’t either. Their fears do not negate your grief or your hardship at any point. You will probably develop a thicker skin, but underneath that outer covering will be a broken and shattered – yet humble – heart that will recognize pain in others. Use that light to guide you someday.

Keep breathing and learn to be gentle and kind to yourself. Your body just experienced a trauma even if you were not sitting on that school bus. Every cell in your body experienced the most toxic of shocks. Bodies are resilient, but toxicity takes a toll. You will struggle with the simplest of tasks. You will be forgetful – because that is the amazing thing about these beautiful creations we are. God equipped them with ways of insulating pain – even it lasts for a moment and is fleeting. Right now, you are still focused on one breathe at a time. Someday – oh someday – you will be able to do more than that.

I don’t know all the details of what happened yesterday, nor do I need to know them. I simply know you are hurting. However, you are going to learn all throughout today and the coming days and weeks, how insatiable the appetites are of curious minds. News reports and conversations can and will get the details wrong. As much as that will hurt and you may want to right every wrong, it will not change your hurting, your grief or your loss. This is your story. You are the author of the previous chapters and of the precious ones coming up. You can choose how much or how little you wish for the world to read.

Just keep breathing because every tiny inhalation and exhalation means you are surviving.

Soon you are probably going to just wish you could erase this day and get back to living. This one day will leave an indelible scar, but I know you are stronger than all of this. I promise that you absolutely will LIVE again. It will never be the way you want it to be, but the day will come when you wake up and this isn’t the very first thing on your mind. The road to that day may be short for some, and painfully and agonizingly long for others. That day did come for me, but the journey that began almost seven years ago after our darkest day still has lingering and lasting effects for our family.

Healing is a word that will get tossed around a lot in coming days. Healing can be a lifelong journey. You may have considered yourself a sprinter in life before this moment, but now, you will be changing your pace to endure becoming a marathon runner. There will be surgeries, hours of therapies, medications, appointments, loss of work and income, arguments with insurance, services, memorials, remembrances, and grief, insanely profound grief filled with what-ifs and whys. On those last two, they are jerks and trust me, they will never bring you comfort. You will learn to become your child’s advocate as you didn’t realize that not only are you training for the toughest race of your life but somehow you were promoted to coach of the team as well. Breathe. You are made of the right stuff to lead your family to the finish line – however long and far away that might be.

Things will never be the same. Your lives are changed forever. You won’t want to hear this right now, but you will see better days. The earth opened up and swallowed you into the darkest pit you could ever imagine. But listen in those quiet still moments – even those filled with doubt and fear and trepidation. Really listen. You will hear the voices of those that love you cheering as loudly with their heart songs as possible. Their melodies are there. Old and new friends, you have yet to meet, are cheering the loudest, because they too have found themselves in the pit. They KNOW what you will need to just get up out of bed in the morning.

They always say light shines the brightest in the dark, like those horrible creatures in the deep, deep ocean. Even when grief and pain rear their ugly heads, keep your eyes open. There will be tiny light reminders of love and encouragement, including some heavenly sent, all along the way. Keep your eyes open and breathe. Cling to that shining love because those moments will help you take baby steps to what will ultimately help you move beyond just breathing.

Four little letters that string together to provide the mightiest of foundations. H-O-P-E. Hope it is such a tiny little word, but it changes everything. Outside of breathing, there is nothing greater than I can say to you than cling to hope in whatever way, tiny or grand, God provides it for you. Breathe and hope.

Outside of my words, I wish that I could bring my favorite quilt and rocking chair to your halted world today. We could curl up together while my tears mixed in with yours. We would rock and pray, cry and rock, but mostly, I would just hold your hand and remind you to breathe.

As much as I wish that my experience and pain could lessen yours, I know it won’t. There were others than came to comfort us with the comfort they had been given. Their words did not fall on deaf ears, but my heart was not ready to believe the unbelievable. I didn’t think we would make it. The one truth that finally spoke to my heart were two words, the shortest verse in God’s word. Jesus wept. In the aftermath of losing one child and caring for two severely injured others, it was the first thing that made any sense. Jesus wept, and so too am I and many, many more for you and your families. You will make it through this, not because of these words or anything I or anyone else can or will do, but because I know that with Jesus’ dad, all things are possible – including living through and beyond your darkest day. With legions of others, I will be praying for you to be comforted with one beautiful breath after another.

9 days: the Christmas letter (the year of upcycled joy)

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For the last year, our family chose to participate in the Fellowship of Christian Athletes “One Word” theme to bring us closer to God and to each other. http://www.fca.org/themagazine/just-one-word/#.VI8-W-l0zIU After looking in, looking up, and looking out, we had a family meeting early in the New Year and chose “JOY” to be our theme. As Erin put it best, “I like joy because it has been a long time since that was a word we used regularly.” I will confess that when you choose a word, be prepared for all kinds of spiritual warfare, hoping to tear down the walls of faith being built with God. Many, many tears have fallen. We are still imperfect people with huge holes in our hearts, but we soldier on. There are dark days, moments of despair, but we know the end of the story. Love wins! Shine your light, because love definitely wins!

About the same time we chose our word, a dear friend and I were joking about all the “upcycled” businesses springing up everywhere. Our teasing focused on the fact that we have been up-cyclers our whole lives – giving new life to ordinary and cast-away items. We had no idea how avant garde we had been all these years. While there were unjoyful moments this year, we chose to focus on the joy of God’s blessings in the midst of trials. Becoming much more than a theme, looking for joy became a habit. I found more comfort in the Scriptures and would break into huge smiles when I stumbled upon joy hidden in a verse that I had previously overlooked.

We are not “should-ers”. You know those people who say, “You should do this or that.” We are simply a family who loves God and really tries very hard to love all of God’s people. If your family tries the one word theme, we hope it is as big of a blessing to you as it has been to us. If you don’t, we still love you too! We thank God for your presence in our lives, and we are wishing you a Christmas focused on one present. The babe who came wrapped in swaddling clothes to dwell among us to live knowing he would die. What greater joy could we have than a love that deep?

Here are some highlights of our year!

January was mostly about basketball games. Saturday mornings, Cloie had basketball clinics and the rest of our bleacher time was cheering on the Lakers. Erin started out the season playing B and varsity, and ended the season playing only varsity. Daniel did sneak away from the bleacher seats for the annual cousins’ ice fishing weekend. He had a blast and brought home some great fish.

February is always a bittersweet month. To be honest, we seem to just endure February. We remember our saddest day wishing Reed was still with us, but celebrate the birth of Sawyer, who turned seventeen. Cloie had the honor of singing the National Anthem at both the men’s and women’s SMSU basketball games for Cancer Night.

Top Math Student for Math League!

March held one of my most favorite memories as well as other memorable moments. The kids and I took off for a day for some F.U.N. Totally non-scripted and unplugged, we went to Sioux Falls to just hang out. Because are kids are very involved, we don’t have many moments like these anymore. I snuck in a girls day with Erin and friend to see the NAIA women’s basketball play-offs. Also, one of my blog posts really touched a nerve, and over 25,000 people read it in two days. I conquered my fear of flying travelling to meet my friend, Bug, for a week long cruise. Erin earned her first varsity letter for basketball and earned most improved player.

F.U.N. Day!

Basketball is a big part of Erin’s world.

April began the inundation of college letters. While we were proud of his hard work, we were definitely not ready to start thinking about him going away. As junior parents, we were actively involved in helping plan the After Prom party.

May was the month when our joy was definitely tested. After a great weekend of AAU basketball, Erin was at practice for her second team when she was injured. The results proved to be a partial tear of her ACL, grounding her for a minimum of six months no playing at all. Her goal was to get back to playing by the start of season in November. The junior prom was also this month, and along with all the prayers for Erin we saw one of the most amazing things I have ever witnessed when a relative stranger allowed Sawyer to drive his Corvette to the prom. Daniel and I celebrated our 21^st wedding anniversary. We also snuck in a trip to North Dakota to see our family there. Two college visits also took place.

Sawyer and the most amazing loan ever!

June was the beginning of a whirlwind for us as we finally took the plunge to redo our kitchen and upstairs. Apparently, we hadn’t learned our lesson with the basement remodel a few years ago. Sawyer attended Boys State, walking in the footsteps of his Dad. Father’s Day and Reed’s 19^th birthday were the same day; so, we remembered both together. Erin turned fifteen the next day, and the best present she received was the news that she definitively did not require surgery. The end of the month Daniel and I went away for our first ever motorcycle trip with friends while the kids stayed with our former nanny and her children. Cloie loved every minute of having “cousins” at her house!

Birthday trip to Sioux Falls. Girls with Peep!

This was midway through the great beard experiment of the year!

July snuck up on us as we were focused on all the decisions for the remodel and on trying to squeeze in time together as a family. Cloie was invited to sing the National Anthem for the American Legion baseball team.

August was probably our busiest month yet. First we had the fair, where the kids showed pigeons as well as general exhibits. Erin earned her first ever trip to the State Fair. At the closing of the fair, Sawyer and I flew down South for him to attend the National Flight Academy held at Pensacola Naval Air Station. While he was at camp, I enjoyed visiting with my Mama Cloie and my parents. It was a blast to have my parents all to myself. We concluded our trip with a visit with my Uncle Rendell and a high school friend and his family. When we returned home, he started fall football camp the next day. Two days later, Cloie and I loaded up to go on a girl’s trip to Chicago so she could follow in the footsteps of her big sister going to the American Girl store. We returned home a little earlier than planned for Clo to enter the hometown pageant, where she won the title of Lyon County Queen. After months and months of training, Daniel took and passed on the first try (which is rare) the Business Analyst Professional test. School started, football began, we had to move into our camper due to construction, volleyball began for Cloie, more therapy for Erin, and we ended the month, with a 3 day trip to the cities for me and Erin to attend the State Fair, where she earned a blue ribbon on her homemade laundry soap.

Hamming it up with fair ribbons!

Sawyer’s call name at Flight Academy

Breakfast in Chicago

September was all about construction, construction, and more construction. We put in long hours because we were doing all the work ourselves. Thank goodness a few friends took pity on us in the months that followed by feeding us a few times and pitching in with the painting. The month ended with a trip to replenish cheetahs at Avera McKennan hospital for the Reed Stevens Memorial Legacy program there. The cheetahs are given to the surviving siblings of any child who passes away at the same hospital as Reed did. A Laker football win melted my heart when I snapped a picture of our #74 sandwiched between what were Reed and Jesse’s football numbers on the sidelines.

Best sideline scene ever!

October was another fun filled month of construction. The homecoming dance was the first weekend. Erin was cleared to ease back into playing, but will play with a brace indefinitely. Other weekends were spent taking senior pictures, apple picking, and practicing football and cheerleading for our beloved Pumas. Sawyer once again coached his Special Olympics team at the state tournament. They brought home bronze medals this year. Cloie and I were once again involved in the cheer team. Halloween was spent with our big idea of a created family. There were kids, teenagers, college students galore! Our girls continued our family’s mission to “adopt” college students. Each girl picked a favorite student whom we could not adore more.

November was another whirlwind. More construction and let me tell you, we are wearing thin of the details. Another bittersweet moment as we closed a door on Sawyer’s football career. Another mom and I were on the decorating committee. Our personal goal was to make the banquet one our boys would always remember. I think our hours of planning paid off. The highlight of my evening was when Coach Sawyer awarded a football letter to one of his players. A little hunting trip was sandwiched in for Daniel and the big kids, followed by another college visit for Sawyer. I attended women’s retreat for our church, and then next weekend, Cloie hit the big league, singing the National Anthem for the professional hockey team, Sioux Falls stampede. Basketball officially started for Erin, and she had her first varsity start. We had a wonderful impromptu visit from ND family for a weekend with lots of good food and pinochle. Thanksgiving was spent at home, and it was a beautiful peaceful day.

Hitting the big times! Singing the anthem for the Sioux Falls Stampede!

December has been a peaceful month. Erin and I along with a friend from church directed the children’s Christmas pageant. It was a blast to teach them the true meaning behind Advent. Cloie began travelling basketball and had her first tournament. We took Sawyer to another college visit. He hasn’t officially made his choice yet, but we know he has one school he really loves. That seems to be exactly what all our friends told us to expect. Cloie turned ten the same day as our pageant. We went out for lunch, and then we had a few family friends over for supper. It was a blessing to celebrate all together. We will be home for Christmas, and my parents will come for a few days. Then other friends will come for New Year’s where we will party like Newfoundlanders (where New Year’s is 9:30 our time) with all the little ones!

The Newfoundlanders!

Joy is found when you really look for it. Often for our family it is the little moments where joy shines the brightest. May the JOY of God’s love find you wherever you are today!

It’s okay! My mom shares!

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When I was in the seventh grade, my family moved from about as deep in the South as you could get to a prairie valley in North Dakota. Through my dad’s career as a college basketball coach, we befriended many families of his players. One of my life’s mottos: “Family includes people you choose” had its rudimentary origins in that little town.

I will never forget when we were asked us to bring the matriarch of one family to an away game. Grandma Leone Nilsen was unlike anyone us kids had ever met. Norwegian (we didn’t even know where Norway was), proper, and one heck of a Scrabble player (never, and I mean never, challenge her words because she was a walking dictionary)! A real fairy grandmother like a character from a storybook. Upon hearing about our situation of being “proximally family-less” meaning no family within a thousand mile radius, she made a declaration that she stood by to her dying day. “I will be the grandma now!” She remembered all of our birthdays, special events, and even sat with my grandparents at my wedding.

Once, my parents had to travel out of town; so, she invited us to stay with her because she lived in town close to our schools. Boy! Was that an adventure! The first day’s breakfast was buttered jelly toast with eggs. The only problem was she didn’t clarify that there were two types of butter in the fridge, and we choked down grape jelly and garlic butter on wheat toast. Not a combination that I would recommend – ever. But we sure did have some giggles.

Later that night, we went to the local pizza restaurant. Grandma Leone, who was everything maternal including fair, decided we should order the three ingredient pizza, giving each of us a chance to make one selection. Our parents never did that; so, my brother and I thought this was the best idea ever. Back in those days, my food tastes were fairly conservative; so, I didn’t branch far in pizza topping selections. Canadian bacon was my choice. My brother, always having a flair for the dramatic, ordered pineapple. What kind of goofball orders pineapple? (Today I love that on pizzas. At 13, I was less than enthused by his selection.) If I thought that was bad, what came out Grandma’s mouth made me wish that my quirky brother could have had the third selection. Sauerkraut! What in the name of all that is holy would make her pick that? Miserably, we ate our pizza because we didn’t want to be disrespectful. I have hated sauerkraut ever since, even ordering Reubens sans that ingredient.

Even though her pizza topping choices were less than appealing, the love she lavished on us kids was genuine and real, even if the bloodlines that connected us were not.

Her church had a mother-daughter tea, and since I was the closest granddaughter, she invited me as her guest. She picked me up in her big boat of a car, complete with stuffed white kitty in the back window. (That was her signal as to which car was hers in a crowded parking lot.) On our drive to the church, she told me to pick up a small box in the backseat. Inside were the most beautiful teacup and saucer. She told me that she wanted me to know how absolutely beautiful and special I was to her and how honored she was I chose to spend my afternoon with her. It is a moment I have never forgotten.

The actual teacup given to me.

Just recently, our church held a “Daughters of the King” tea. Since it was held on the last night of our church’s youth group for the school year, that left just one little Sally Gal to be my date. While fellowshipping after church, C asked a family friend if she was coming to the tea. Her heartfelt response was her girls would be going to youth group; so, she wasn’t sure. Without batting an eyelash, Cloie said, “Oh please come. Don’t worry! My momma shares!” As if there wasn’t any other choice in her mind, my nine year old decided that was just the way it was going to be. She made sure our friend signed up, and we would attend as a trio.

As the tea approached, C sat me down for a heart to heart. “Now mom when we get there, I know this is a special night. But, I will have to sit between you and Miss Linda. That would be the only fair way to handle this.” Which is exactly what she did, and we all thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

Tea parties are pretty special events indeed, but even more special are those people who open their hearts to share moments with people they love – biological family, family of God, or simply the family you choose.

Looking back now, even if it was not due to genetics, I am so glad that Cloie has her Grandma Leone’s heart. I know that she would be so proud!

The Two Grandmas

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For a few days in August, we had something akin to a miracle occur right at my dinner table. Most people would think that I am waxing poetically, but for me, it is a moment that I will treasure forever. While I was on my train trip with Mr. Jimmy, my parents arrived for a visit with my family. A few days after my return, we were also expecting the annual Grandma & Auntie Vacation visit from my other mom (Daniel’s mom) and sister.

We live in a humble-sized house, but like my husband’s ancestors, there is always room for one more in a bed, one more plate at the table, and one more chair for visiting at our home. The problem with this scenario, due to the craziness of travelling and raising a busy family, was we neglected to tell either mom they would be here at the same time. That task fell to my husband as I was soaking up every bit of wonder in a great place called Kentucky.

To most people, this wouldn’t seem like such a big deal, but I will be honest, our moms would have never met had their children not fallen in love. By never, I mean like that scene in Mall Cop where Paul Blart says at the intersection of “Ne and ver”. That kind of never, as opposed to the never Hollywood uses when it tells us there is never going to be another sequel to a million dollar movie franchise. Yeah, right! (more on this thought on a later post)

It isn’t that our moms dislike each other; it simply is that they come from vastly different backgrounds and lifestyles. Each one has her own “thang”, and no one should apologize for being herself.

They have been at some events together (our wedding, one baby shower, Reed’s services, and the laying of his headstone). Other than when Reed died and one time during a Reed’s Run, our two moms have never stayed in the same house together. It just never happens. Even though they don’t normally hang out (which is geographically impossible with one being a native Floridian and the other being a North Dakotan), they do share one colossal common interest. Both adore their grandchildren.

During one of the days of the “Grandma Invasion”, our littlest one says, “Hey Grandmas! Let’s play a game!” Since the old standby preschool game, Ice Cream, a favorite of Grandma L, is soon to be outgrown by Cloie, we settled on a favorite of the big kids in our house. Although neither had ever heard of the game, both grandmas were willing, if may be a little reluctant, participants. There we were, seated around the table, two grandmas (well technically three grandmas as sister Rita had recently become one herself), one mom, and one spunky, little, eight-year-old girl.

It took a while to recall the directions for the game, but once we did, we settled into a routine of fun competition with a whole bunch of cooperation as we cheered each other on. At one point, I distinctly remember wanting to scoop up my little Clo, holding her freckled cheeks in hands to breathe these words into her soul.

“You are the luckiest little girl in the world! This moment – right here, right now – is one so many little girls never experience. You are blessed to have both of your grandmas play a game with you. Capture this moment! Cherish it forever because this will be one of the best days of your life!”

I am certain my far-away, captured-in-my-thoughts-look was not noticed by anyone present, but in my bottle of memories it will always be stored in the library of my heart. I have a few of those moments with my own grandmothers, and every once in a while, I dust off its jacket and pull it out to revisit. Every time I do, it is precious time well spent.

Someday, when Clo wants to revisit the amazing time she shared with Grandmas L and S, my heart library will always be open, and she is welcome to check this treasure out as many times as heart desires!

For this, I am so thankful!

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.

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.

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Tag Archives: North Dakota

Standing on the shoulders of giants

When adventures melt your heart

The place that never leaves you . . .

Cowabunga Dude

Under the sea

What I wish I could say . . .

The Two Grandmas

One lump or two