I Want to Be Famous!

I am giddy.

I know that I should not be this excited about something so little.  Really.

Yesterday morning I checked Facebook, and a friend/co-worker had shared a link with me.  The Fargo Forum, a newspaper based in Fargo, ND, is on the hunt for some bloggers who wrote about women's interests.  I thought, "I'm a woman.  I could do that!"

I sent off the email below:

Greetings!

I am very interested in blogging for The Forum.

I have an active daily blog that basically is a mind dump and sharing of my own life in addition to issues that I see as important in the world.

The links to some posts that have had quite a bit of traffic are below:

http://slowingtheracingmind.wordpress.com/2011/11/23/holidays-when-loss-is-amplified/

http://slowingtheracingmind.wordpress.com/2011/11/18/the-saga-continues/

http://slowingtheracingmind.wordpress.com/2011/11/17/world-prematurity-day/

http://slowingtheracingmind.wordpress.com/2011/11/01/adoption-an-outside-view/

http://slowingtheracingmind.wordpress.com/2011/11/04/whats-your-story/

http://slowingtheracingmind.wordpress.com/2011/10/10/inappropriate-halloween-costumes/

http://slowingtheracingmind.wordpress.com/2011/10/03/marketing-day-turns-into-life-lesson/

http://slowingtheracingmind.wordpress.com/2011/09/21/dear-facebook/

What would the next step be in this conversation?
~Stacy

I thought it was a great start!  And the person who replied to me must have thought so too!  This afternoon at 2:12 (over 24 hours since I had sent the inquiring email), I received an email with instructions about how to do this.  I will most likely just move my blog over to their site as there are more bells and whistles provided to me there.  I think that I will pop over here and share the link, but eventually I would consider shutting this site down and only have one site.

Will you follow me?  I really want to know....

So that is all of the good news of the day.

The downside has been that the set up of the new blog has been less quick and easy than I  had hoped.  I registered and then waited for the confirmation email.  It still has not come.  I sent a request for support the provided email address a few seconds ago, but I have not heard back in the past few seconds.  How can they do this to me?  I am soooooooo excited.

And now in these few seconds as I type this, I realize something.  I want to be famous.  I want to have a million hits a month.  I want people to read what I have to say.  I want them to comment on it.  I want them to repost and retweet and share that they love what I have to say.  I want validation that my thoughts resonate with other people's thoughts.  I want people to say, "Wow, do you know what I read on Stacy Bender's blog today?"

This is a little sick.

I started this blog as a way to dump my thoughts, as a way to tame the racing mind, and as a way to practice doing something that I thought I might like to do.  That was all.  Nothing more.

But the more I do it, the more I like it.  The more I write, the more I want to write.  I want to sit down and just write and write and write.  This does have the potential to be a great thing someday.  Whenever someone asks me, "If you could be doing something you are not, what would it be?"  I answer write.  But I never thought that other people would actually read it.  I mean...I thought that would read my blog when I asked them to, but I never thought that people would keep reading it.  I never thought that people whom I have never met would start reading my blog because of some tags.  And I never thought those people would become followers. And I really, really never thought that someone from something more than the "simple" Wordpress world would think that I should continue blogging, that I possibly have something to say to a larger audience, and that I should email that person when I'm fully set up so that person could "keep the blog on [their] radar."  Please, pinch me.

And now that all of that has happened and someone has said that I should change venues and write for a broader audience, I really want to do that.  And I want to see where this takes me...

Is that wrong?

ps: This is the photo for my avatar on the new site - see, I have lost my mind!

Adoption Process: The Hard Stuff

November has been National Adoption Month.  I have written a few posts this month pertaining to the topic: Adoption - An Outside View, My Adoption - A Fairytale, and Caring for Orphans.  I was even made "the feature repost" on a site written by woman in a couple waiting to adopt.  The first post happened to be written on November 1, and I had no idea that it was Nation Adoption Month.  However, once I was aware of it, adoption, foster care, and orphan care were prominently on my mind throughout the month.  I thought it would be fitting to end the month with a relevant post about adoption as well.

The focus of conversations about adoption is so often on the end result - the adoption itself, a joyous occasion when everyone's lives are forever changed.  However, as the author of the post that featured my post as her post states in a recent post titled "Silence," there are hard parts to adoption as well.  As I have thought about writing this post over the past few days, three words kept coming to mind:  wanting, waiting, and losing.

The beginning of the adoption process for couples and families often stems from a want - a desire to add a child or an additional child to the family and/or a desire to reach out to a child in need.  The desire to bring a child or another child into the family stems from a variety of things.  A dream begins.  Adoption.  The seed is planted; the want is there.

Some couples find out that they cannot have biological children for some reason.  They have gone through all of the conventional ways of "having" children, and those ways have not worked.  This process is long and difficult and has several blog posts that could come from it.  I did not walk this road, and I feel very unprepared to discuss it.  It is a private and difficult road that many do not share with others for so many reasons.  It has been wrought with financial and emotional investment along with heartache and loss.  Once the grieving has passed about a dream that was, a new dream begins.  Adoption.  The seed is planted; the want is there.

Other couples have had children already and see a need in the world to which they can respond.  They feel called to this and promote it with others.  They read books, research, and pray.  They see that their nest is full, but it could be fuller.  Their homes are not always large, but they will make do with what they have and all will be cared for within its walls.  These families, as well as the families mentioned in the previous paragraph, will research all of their options: foster care, domestic adoptions, foreign adoptions.  They may not have gone through the same struggles as those mentioned in the previous paragraph, but once they begin the process, these families are just as set on the dream.  Adoption.  The seed is planted; the want is there.

Wanting to adopt leads to action - lots of it.  There are classes to attend.  There is paperwork to complete.  Social workers come to visit the home.  Trainings and support groups are added to the calendar.  Whether foster care, domestic adoption, or foreign adoption, there is a lot of work.  It is amazing to me that this much preparation goes into adoption while there really is no preparation for having a baby "the usual way."  Kids fooling around as young as 11 "end up" with a pregnancy.  Can you imagine?  It's true, though.  In that case, no one has to attend 40 hours of preparatory meetings, no one has to have a social worker say that a home is fit for children, and no one has to go through a background check, have their fingerprints taken, or prove that financially they can provide.  It just happens.  Anyway - sorry to rant.

Once all of that action is over, though, a period of waiting sets in.  For some, this period is brief.  If the couple has chosen to do typical foster care, the wait is seldom long as the need is great.  There are loads of other issues in foster care that this blog post will not address; however, children will be in your care quickly if traditional, temporary, foster care is your road. They may not stay long, but another round of those needing care will arrive soon after they leave.

For those choosing foster to adopt, domestic adoption, or foreign adoption, the waiting period is unpredictable.  I have known couples who have been in process for three to seven years.  This seems like an awful lot of waiting to me.  I can hardly wait for Friday to arrive this week....seven years seems like a long time from now.  This period of waiting is hard no matter how short it is.  Once a couple or family has made the decision to open their home, the home is ready and waiting for that child or children.  Waiting seems like such a waste of time!  The need is great, the children are many, and this home is waiting for a child.  What could the good be in waiting?  And yet, the wait goes on.  Days.  Weeks.  Months.  Years.

This is a hard side of adoption.

If waiting is hard, losing is even harder.  If wanting a child - for whatever the reason - leads a couple or family into the act of pursuing adoption and if waiting is hard, then losing is crushing.  As an outsider looking inward, my heart breaks - but only as an outsider.  I have experience pain and loss in my lifetime, but I have not had my hopes set on a baby girl whose due date I know and wait for.  I cannot even imagine how crushing this is to a couple or family.  I can only imagine that it must be as hard as experiencing a miscarriage or the death of child.  But there is something different about this loss.  This loss takes on a different face - and sometimes no face at all - than other losses.  In the case of domestic adoptions where, like in the blog post titled "Silence," all of the prep work is done but the birth mother disappears or perhaps changes her mind, the baby may not have been in the home. The dream is lost.  The couple has to grieve.  The process has to start over.  Loss in the adoption world seems to take on many faces - all of them are painful, all of them are complicated.  And, while the rest of us put on our sympathy faces and then move on with our lives, the couple or family has to start over, re-evaluate the dream, and consider how to proceed.  If this cycle repeats itself several times, the couple begins to question and wonder what this is all about.

This is a hard side of adoption.

As only an outsider looking inward on the lives of many with this dream, I marvel at the strength that they have, the commitment to changing the lives of children that they have, and the ability to see tomorrow as a new day.  They are in this dream because of these qualities.  The adoption process is difficult, and adopting children is difficult.  And the reward is great.  Changing the life of a child in need is an amazing quest.

As I said thirty days ago, adoption and foster care may not be for everyone, but we are all called to minister to the orphans.  Instead of looking inward at those who choose to adopt and clucking our tongues when they have to wait for years, how can we support them (monetarily, physically, and emotionally) as they wait?  And then, once the children are in their care, how can we continue to support them?

I'm Italian...You Know You Want to Be...

Yesterday, a friend left the following quote on my Facebook wall: "You know, there are two kinds of people; Italians and those that want to be Italians." ~ Mario Batali

Thanks to my awesome family lineage, I have the heritage of the conquered European continent.  I am one half "kitchen soup mix of all European countries" including German, Welsh, Scotch-Irish, and more from my mother's side of the family, one quarter "British Isles" with quite a bit of proper English thrown in there from my Nana, and one quarter Italian from my grandfather.  When Nana and Gramps married, WWII ended.  Ok - that's a joke.  In fact, both of my grandfathers were American soldiers during WWII.

I rarely think of my lineage except for the fact that I'm Italian.  Consider the possible adjectives and nouns that come to mind when someone mentions the word "Italian," and then think about me.

Passionate - check.  Talks with her hands - check.  Has a temper - check.  Loves good (Italian) food - check.  Talks loudly - check.  Laughs louder - check.  Screams and yells and storms around the house when she is angry - check (not so much anymore...I am a pastor's wife!!!!).  Crazy - yep, without a doubt! Spontaneous - check.  Disruptive - you know it!

Stereotypes tend to come from somewhere even if they are exaggerated.  When it comes to Italian stereotypes, my family fits many of them.  My nana, who learned how to cook Italian food before she married into the Italian family, cooks some of the best food ever.  Chicken cutlet and lasagna are two of my favorite dishes.  Her meatballs and gravy (it's not sauce if it has meat in it!) with some penne pasta really hit the spot.  Her lasagna has little meatballs in it - because they taste better, of course.  We love our food!  Nana knows which bakery has the best bread, and she knows where and on what day to buy the fresh ravioli - Venda, of course, "on the hill" in Providence, Rhode Island.

I have an Uncle Vin and a Great-Uncle Vin.  My great grandfather went by several names.  Let your imagination run wild with that one!  If I looked hard enough, I am sure that I would find some questionable history, but that is only fun until you realize that those people are your relatives.  That's when you stop looking.  We fight hard, we play hard, and we love hard.

I would say that having a quarter Italian blood in me is just about enough.  It seems that having a quarter pretty much dominates the rest of my lineage, so any more would just be a waste.  My first psychiatrist told me that Italian is a definite ingredient in many a bipolar diagnosis.  "We should medicate the whole lot," I believe were his exact words.

Growing up in North Dakota as an Italian was quite fun, so is living in Minneapolis now and having an Italian colleague (from Jersey, no less!).  Midwesterners are a much more reserved people.  There is a lot of quiet and caution.  That is not so with Italian personalities - we are a loud people who throw caution to the wind.  And I think that some around me are a little jealous of that.

Honestly - if I were at a wedding with all of my cousins and had no idea what was going on, I would jealous of all the fun we have.  A tradition started at my wedding that has continued into a few other weddings.  To be fair, the tradition was started by my Auntie Ann.  And to be true to the story, I was not super thrilled about it at the time.  I have gotten over that, though, since it became cool.  The tradition (pictured below at sister Meg and cousin Karissa's wedding) is that Nana let all of her grandchildren put olives on their fingers at the dinner table ... to keep us from being naughty.  We now have pictures of us at weddings...all grown up...with olives on all ten fingers.  What memories!

[gallery link="file" columns="2" orderby="title"]

And our response to the onlookers who question us?

We're Italian.

You know you want to be...

Prepping the Christmas Cards

Last night I began the annual ritual of preparing my Christmas cards not to be sent but to be printed.  I already have received my first Christmas card in the mail, but I have not even sent mine off to the printer.  I feel good knowing that I have a plan this year as there have been years that the Christmas card did not even get mailed.  We had thought that we would send out a New Year's card, a Valentine's Day card or possibley an Easter card, but usually those plans went by the wayside as other things (life!) got in the way.  There have been years that I have felt the pressure from the arrival of other people's cards to hurry up and get out my cards, but honestly that is not where I am this year.

This year I honestly question the necessity of sending the cards at all.  With Facebook now connecting me with most of the people in my life currently and in the past, I see very little need for spending the money and sending the cards.  If the people that I send cards to are anything like I am, they will hang the photo card on the refrigerator for a few months until the photos have been knocked down enough times that I finally, in frustration, remove them all...and, yes (shock!), throw them away.  For a few months of the year between frustration and the next card season, my refrigerator is filled with magnets or evidence that my children are doing well in school and activities.

However, there seems to be something important about sending Christmas cards to those we cherish most.  To "make the cut" on someone's Christmas card list is important.  Will I get a card or not?  What has happened of importance in their lives since last year that they will write in a few lines that are sent?  Being someone's Facebook friend simply puts me in the midst of the masses.  There is no limit high enough that I would ever reach it on the friends I can acquire on Facebook; however, at some point in the Christmas card sending, I will be cut from someone's list.  Economics dictate this.  To be in the top 100 of someone's life and to receive a Christmas card is a great feeling.

Sending Christmas cards, though, is a difficult task.  What should those few lines be that I share with the recipients of the cards?  How can I possibly condense a year into a few lines?  I cannot, obviously, do that well as most of my daily blog posts exceed 900 words.

I have decided that a photo that simply shows my family's current character along with the consistent aging of each of us is enough.  A few lines that attest to what God has done in us and through us over the year will add to the photo in addition to well wishes for the year to come.  And that is enough. 

Those without Facebook are hopefully close enough to us that we actually pick up the phone throughout the year to verbally share more than a 160 character status update with them.

Empty Chairs at Full Tables

My apologies for writing what may appear to some as depressing posts, but these are the things that are on my mind right now. From talking to others who have experienced loss of loved ones, I know that I am not unique in this.  In my attempt to empty my own mind of the racing thoughts, I can only hope that others find some encouragement in the fact that they are not alone and that grief goes on and on and on...and on...

Grief takes different forms each year as things change and as we see things differently.  This year, for some reason, I am really, really (really, really, really) sad.  I guess that this is a different year for me; not all years have been this hard. Perhaps the fact that friends around me have experienced losses this year has re-opened wounds that I thought were somewhat healed.  Perhaps it is the empathizer in me that has made this year more difficult.  Whatever the case, this year has been harder for me than others, and that - along with the typical things that bounce around my head - has been racing through my mind.  I am not angry.  I am not in denial.  I do not feel guilt.  I am just sad.  So, so, so, so sad.

"Les Miserables," one of my favorite musicals of all time, has a song in it titled "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables."  The character Marius has just lived through a battle, but his friends have not.  He mourns them while sitting at an empty table and talks of days gone by.  He questions why they had to die and wonders if he can have purpose beyond their death.  This song does not actually address what races through my mind today; rather, I have a different thought.  I would love to have some ability to write songs.  I would write a song titled "Empy Chairs at Full Tables."

Most of us who have lost loved ones have very full tables.  I have plenty of relatives (I am the oldest of 14 cousins on my Italian side!!!), my husband and children are wonderful, and my extended family and in-loves are a wonderful bunch of people.  Holidays are not spent alone by any stretch of the imagination; the rooms and tables are very full no matter where we are.  And yet, there is something missing.  There is someone missing.  In a room full of people, there is still a pervading and overwhelming sense that all is not right.  But there is no way to make it right.  Nothing about this situation will change.  And, while we can move through the stages of grief and live "happily" in the acceptance that sits just beyond "depression," there are times - hours, days, and even years - when sadness pervades all other feelings and hangs above our heads regardless of how full the rooms are.  Feeling utterly alone in what I feel while surrounded by a multitude of others is a strange and fascinating feeling.

This feeling is not new to me, and I am sure that just about everyone has experienced it.  As a student in high school, I experienced this feeling sometimes in the hallways.  They would be packed full of people, but I felt overwhelmed with loneliness.  As a student in my first year of college when I knew very few people on my first few days there, I felt overwhelmed with loneliness.  As I struggled in those college years, surrounded by friends and even family, through what I thought at the time was depression and was later diagnosed as bipolar, I felt utterly alone.  I could talk to therapists, friends, pastors' wives, and camp counselors until I was blue in the face and even feel understood.  Yet I would lie in bed at night and wonder if anyone understood me or if anyone else felt the way that I felt.  It does not seem to matter how full the table is, that empty chair can still make a deep impression on us.

I think that what often is missing in all of this is an acknowledgement of the empty chair at our very full table.  This morning as I spoke with a friend who experienced her first Thanksgiving without her mom, I asked if anyone had acknowledged her mom's absence.  I was overwhelmed with her answer: her husband had made a toast to her mom on Thanksgiving.  What a great idea!  I have heard of others who have actually left the empty chair at the table.  I am not sure if I would need to go that far, but it would be better than simply ignoring the fact altogether.

It has been eight years since my mom died, and I keep thinking that all of this will go away.  It has not.  It is easier, of course, than it was that first year.  And I anticipate that eight years from now it might be easier than it was this year.  But with each passing year there are also things for which I wish she was here: the kids' graduation from high school, their wedding, an article that I wrote getting published in an academic journal, or simply a discussion that she would have had with my huz about some theological point he made in a sermon.

While I would like to say that I should just get over it, I am also a realist.  I doubt that I will.  And I think that I am ok with that.  Why should I get completely over it?  She was my mom!  How do we maneuever through life without our moms?  I will never be entirely satisfied with the way things are now without her presence in our lives.  This does not mean that I am dissatisfied with my life or that I am even angry at God about it.  It simply means that I acknowledge that this is not ok.

All of that being said, though, I do live with a hope that I will see her again and that I will see her forever thanks to the redemptive work of Christ on the cross.  I look forward to the day when I can tell her the stories of all that she has missed.  She would want to know that her granddaughter was the choir president and speech captain.  She would want to know that her grandson was the youngest student in Minnesota history to make it to the state debate tournament.  She would love to have me call her and tell her all of these things.

Until then, I will wipe the tears from my eyes and smile through them whenever they come.  Until then, whenever I think of that empty chair at my full table, I will experience a strange sadness mixed with joy because I have the hope of seeing her again.  And when I do see her again, there will be no more tears, no more sadness, and no more seperation.

Thanks be to God.

Flip-Flops!

I love to wear flip-flops.

This has been a great Thanksgiving weekend due to the weather cooperating with my favorite choice of footwear. I have socks and sneakers along on the trip, but - thankfully - there has been no need to depart from my flip-flops. I wore them to WalMart, Menards, and Target yesterday where my only Black Friday purchases included items for the care of my father-in-love, an awesome assortment of Lifesaver candies, and two copies of the Civil Wars' cd so that the Aberdeen, SD, Target would need to order more.

I wore flip-flops every school day of the 2004-2005 school year. At the time, I taught English at PACT Charter School in Ramsey, MN. The school was started by a group who wanted to encourage parent involvement in all areas of the school. Many of them had been homeschoolers who also wanted families to have more time together. Because of that, three Fridays each month were "home" school days for students and professional development days for teachers. I taught spectacular students who had very involved parents.

My teaching load that year involved four sections of 9th and 10th grade English. My colleague, Dave Wood (we were just "Bender" and "Wood" to the kids), taught all of the social studies classes with the same students. Due to some toe-nail issues, I had been wearing flip-flops at the beginning of the school year. Dave wore flip-flops often as well. Somehow we ended up in a contest to see who could wear flip-flops longer into the school year.

Our shared students and we developed a contract which we both signed. We had to wear flip-flopas once we stepped on school property. We were allowed to wear more traditional footwear for parent-teacher conference. This was a job-keeping concession as I remember it. Whoever stopped wearing flip-flops first owed the other a case of Coca-Cola. If one of us left the school's employment before the contest had ended, the leaver had to buy dinner for the other (spouses included, of course). At some point mid-winter, we started wearing socks for our joint carpool duty. This came, I believe, under pressure from elementary parents who saw us as bad role models in our poor choice of footwear with snow on the ground.

If anyone would ask me what year of working at a school was my most memorable, I would have to say that 2004-2005 - the year of the flip-flops - would be the year. I am not a great classroom teacher. The state standards are cumbersome and vary from the vague things such as "understanding irony" to the extremely specific "understand and apply the difference between who and whom." As evidenced with my later guidance counselor licensure, I am much better in the hallways than in the classroom. I would guess that my students from my two years at PACT would say they learned more about how to maneuver life than they did the English content itself.

One of my favorite impromtu "life lessons" that year happened in the honors class which occurred at the end of the high school lunch hour. A food fight had broken out and ended when someone had pelted the school director with ranch dressing. While the details had not been sorted out thoroughly, punishments had already been handed out. Students entered my classroom angry that decisions could be made so quickly and without the whole story.

It was a great day!

This is one of the opportunities for which all teachers hope and for which any are rarely prepared. As an English teacher in a school with much parent involvement where every novel and short story needed approval by a curriculum committee made up almost entirely of parents, I had earned a reputation within the first few months of employment as a bit of a rebel. I had not intended to be viewed as a rebel, but that turned out to be the consequence of having strong convictions about what students needed to read in preparation for college. I had spent hours surveying college professors of state and private institutions as to what they expected students to have read before entering college. Because of the small school culture and the fact that students were on several committees, students were aware of my actions and of the view of me by many around the school.

Because of that view, I think that students assumed I would be sympathetic to their anger as well as to the pelter of the ranch dressing. They were so wrong! What they, in their 9th and 10th grade view of the world, lacked in their understanding was that I hold authority as high as it should be even if I was willing to question authority when needed. Regardless of how I felt about how the school director handed out punishments, I could sympathize with what he felt. Someone had pelted ranch dressing at the man! How rude!

I scrapped the standards' based lesson plan for the day and launched into a lengthy lesson about life's chips. In each relationship with someone in authority, we earn and spend chips. I talked with the students about just how many chips had been collectively spent by the student body when a food fight broke out as well as how that number went up exponentially when ranch dressing found its way to the school director. What they needed to consider was which students had built up enough chips to address this with the director. They wanted to storm his office, create petitions, and move with immediate actions. I cautioned them to give it a day, to consider which select students should assume the roles of representatives to speak on behalf of all, and to make an appointment. I reminded them that all chips had most likely been spent in this incident and that they needed to move wisely as opposed to quickly. Less was more in this situation.

At the end of the school year, I resigned and move to teaching online where there was more time in the virtual hallway than in the virtual classroom, but these students have always held a special place in my heart. Some are about to graduate from college; others already have. Some are about to get married; others already have. My hope is that my reputation of being a rebel has been balanced by this lesson about chips. I also hope that, when they think about the flip-flop contest, they remember the fun we had in the classroom learning about life. I hope that it makes them better readers and writers even though I cannot really take much credit for that.

The title of my blog post today was going to be "lacking inspiration" because I felt that way until I looked at my feet, saw my flip-flops, and remembered how inspired I become each day by these former students as I stalk their lives now through Facebook. I thank each and every one of them for becoming who they are today and for making the world a better place because they are in it.

Cheers to you all!

ps: Wood, I still owe you dinner. Let me know the next time you are in town. :)

Holiday Negotiations

My husband is a preacher-man.  In this role, he often is asked to perform weddings.  When this happens, he always requires that the couple does several sessions of premarriage counseling with him.  This is important for the couple as they prepare to spend a lifetime together, but it also allows them to receive a discount on their marriage license.  The state of Minnesota is invested in marriages staying together to the point that they promote premarriage counseling (figure out what you don't know before it's too late!) in the hope that people stay together.  The cost of broken relationships and the impact this has on families and the state's economy is enough that the state promotes this.  Amazing!

One of the tasks that he asks couples to do as part of this premarriage counseling is to determine where they will spend holidays for the first two years of marriage.  The man is a whiz, really.  The first time I heard him assign this to a couple I thought, "Wow - tough work there, buddy!"  And then we had a conversation about how important this is because of the conflicts that it can raise in the future.  He always tells couples that finances and each other's families will be the source of much of the marriage turmoil as they are starting out.  Once children enter the unit, they can also be a source of conflict.

Thinking about this more, it makes sense.  Money.  Families.  Children.  They all have so much emotion behind them when needing to discuss them.  Couples need to hash out some things in each of these areas ahead of time because in each of them, a united approach is absolutely necessary.  If couples are not united in their thinking about how to use their money, they will not stick to a budget.  It is really that simple.  All of the time in the world can be spent on coming up with a great plan, but if one of the two is not committed to sticking to the plan (or the rules...or the values behind the plan or the rules), the plan has been a waste of time.  The minute the budget work is complete, the budget may as well go in the shredder unless both can stick to it.

Where should we spend the holidays?  How do we make everyone happy?  How will we be happy?  And how can we be united in this?  These are the questions that need to be hashed out before the wife tells her mother that the couple will be spending Thanksgiving with the husband's family this year.  Eesh...watch the cork fly off the bottle!  And if the wife is even a bit wishy-washy in her commitment to the decision, her mother will know.  And that mother might love the daughter's husband, but she does not want to share her daughter with his family!

For all of our married life together, the holidays have been a source of great discussion.  The one thing that I will say we do well is present a united front to our families.  After sixteen years, this should be true.  At first, this was not always easy.  Spending a holiday in a family system different from my own has been hard at times.  I am sure that my husband would say the same for himself.  The first time we had lasagna for Christmas dinner, I think he thought we were a little nuts.  Fortunately, we also have traditional turkey and mashed potatoes.

As my children grow older and as I watch my friends' children marry, I realize that the struggles that we have had in deciding what to do when will soon become even more complicated.  Although my children are still in high school, they could be married in the not so distant future.  My huz and I were married at 21...that is only five years away for Beth.  Yowza!  What I have learned through my own struggles and through watching the struggles of others is that rarely is eveyone happy with the end result of the holiday negotiations.  The truth is, though, that none of us can be in two places at once.  And the one thing that I will not promote is having my family unit separated for a holiday (except in extraordinary circumstances...none of which have I run into yet in my own life).

Given that someone will end up unhappy with whatever decision is made actually frees me a little to make the best decision as I see it.  We do our best to divide our time evenly.  As a pastor, being gone for Easter is rarely an option, so we are always home for that.  We have attempted to do an "every other" rotation with Thanksgiving, but sometimes circumstances dictate that it would be best to repeat an appearance in one family or another.  The week of Christmas to New Year's tends to be evenly split between our two sides of the family, but that is not always the case.  We make it work; we try to make everyone happy....we just do our best.

In the end, whatever decision is made, the holidays fly by and are behind us sooner than we really want them to be.  It would be my hope that whatever the end result of the negotiations, at the foundation of it all our children realize that our commitment to them and to our extended family is one that we take seriously.  Spending time with family is important.  Because of that, time spent in consideration of where to be and when to be there is also important.   However, most importantly, the spirit of the holidays must be preserved.  To that end, if staying home with just my husband and children is the best way for that to happen, then that is what we will do.

But not this year...

Turkey Day 5K?

Earlier this year, I purposed to become more active.  I joined Snap Fitness, bought new sneakers (not running shoes...), and signed up for my first 5K on August 20 when my school hosted a 5K as part of its marketing day.  I walked that first 5K in about 55 minutes, and my walking partner had a five year old in a stroller.  I was happy with that time for the first outing.

For the next 10 days, I was very pumped about signing up for another 5K.  I even mentioned to a co-worker who runs quite frequently (he brings his shoes to work just in case he wants to take a run in the middle of the day) that I thought one a month would be great fun.  He gave me that knowing look that I get from true running enthusiasts a lot who realize that I am not a true runner...I just like the idea of it.  I looked on the major Minnesota race website: http://www.raceberryjam.com/, and I even made a few inquiries into some of them.  I wanted to know if the tshirts were short or long sleeved and the colors.  I realize that other people choose 5Ks based on the location (Lake Nokomis is a beautiful location!), but I am really into the tshirt.  I want to wear that tshirt proudly post finish, and if it is going to be an ugly color, I might want to invest my 5K registration dollars into one with a better tshirt.

That all changed on the Thursday before Labor Day.

I woke up on the Thursday before Labor Day and could not hold myself up.  My back and legs were not supportive, and my back hurt horribly.  I could not sit.  I could not stand.  I could not lie down.  I could hardly walk.  I could not go from sitting to stand without screaming out loud.  Kerry and I had to leave the next day to go to camp, and I could hardly walk...how was I going to sleep on camp beds?  I went to the doctor who recommended that I go to the chiropractor, but she also gave me some pain killers for the camp trip.

Long story short - two months (and several pain killers) later, I had a shot of cortisone, and I am doing much better.  I think it is time to get back on the 5K bandwagon slowly but surely.

The sad part about all of this is that today is Thanksgiving.  Today is the Turkey Day 5K - one of the races that I had thought would be great to attempt.  Let's be honest, the tshirt must rock!  I did not sign up for the event.  In fact, as the event unfolded, I was driving toward Aberdeen, SD, to celebrate the holiday with my in-loves (they are not in-laws...I love my husband, so those attached to him are the "in-loves").  While this is disappointing, Auntie Violet's smoked turkey legs are a good consolation for me.  Food galore awaits even though I did not complete a 5K and earn any right to consume large amounts of it.

Perhaps Turkey Day 2012 will be different.  Who's in?

Holidays: When Loss is Amplified

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.  The history behind Thanksgiving is one of those "history written by the victors" moments.  Last night, we hosted my son's cross country team's end of season banquet.  One of the discussions that caught my attention was when a mom shared that she had said to her hairdresser, "Who doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving?"  Her hairdresser's response, "My family."  It turns out she is half Ojibwe and sees Thanksgiving as a symbol of betrayal.  An interesting take...but not the thought behind today's post.

Nine years ago, Thanksgiving week was when we discovered that my mom had terminal cancer. She died by the following June.  I do not even remember the first Thanksgiving without her although I am sure that we spent the time in Grand Forks with that side of the family.  In recent years, with my husband's dad's health in decline, we have spent most Thanksgivings with his family.  Thanksgiving is hard.  Holidays are hard.

When a loved one is no longer a part of our lives, holidays can be hard.  Traditions that we once had are no longer. Family dynamics change as the family attempts to negotiate that missing person's spot or fill the gap that the loss leaves.  And if new family members enter the family system (remarriage, etc), where do the new persons fit into the traditions that we once had? Or - *gasp* - if that new person wants to impose his or her family traditions onto our family tradition, how does that make us feel?  That seems to be an incredibly long run-on sentence, but I honestly do not care.  When we write about emotional things, they just tumble out of our heads like that.  The fact that I know that it might be a run-on sentence should prove to the world that I can use it artistically in this instance in order to illustrate something.

Although we feel these losses in our every day lives, the holidays tend to have heightened emotions.  If the one who always read the Christmas story to the children is no longer there to read the story, who will read the story?  We feel this loss deeply each time this attempt to have our traditions occurs.  I do not remember if I put up a tree for that first Christmas after my mom died; she liked putting up the tree.  If the one who cooked the turkey is no longer there to cook the turkey, how can we even eat turkey anymore?  Who will cook the turkey the way he cooked the turkey?  Who will make that special stuffing that only she could make?

It seems only natural that this happens to us.  Death is an unkind and unwelcome visitor in our lives.  I have thought a lot about this for the past nine years (I started thinking about my mom's death before it actually happened...I'm a planner...what was I going to do without her?).  I used to think that losing someone at an early age (I was only 29 years old when my mom died) was worse than losing someone at an older age.  However, as I have walked through the passing of parents with others following my own loss, I have come to realize that it just does not matter how old we are when a parent passes away.  There is never a good time to lose someone - anyone - a parent, a spouse, a child, another family member, or a friend.  It just does not matter.  Those people mean something to us, and we do not want to live life without them.  It does not matter if we know about their death or if they die suddenly.  Loss is loss, and loss hurts.

Holidays amplify the hurt that loss inflicts upon us.  What seems almost manageable in our every day lives can turn into something insurmountable because of the holidays.  The pain seems nearly gone, and then a holiday arrives.  Plans are different than they were...and it does not even matter if what we did for those holidays drove us nuts!  It is not the same; we cannot do it "that way" ever again because "that person" is not with us anymore.  And that hurts.  There really is no way around it; we just have to go through it.  It is like attempting to cross a river without a bridge; we have to go through the river.  Usually, the river will not consume us.  We will come out on the other side a little wet (maybe a lot wet), but we will come out of the river after having gone through it.  Likewise, with the feelings of loss, we just have to go through them.  We have to take five minutes and have a little cry in the bathroom at our in-laws' house (because crying in front of them would be mortifying).  And then we move on and hope that the next year would be a little less painful than the last.

This is the point in the blog post where I should turn the thought on its head and offer something hopeful that changes our perspective so that we can see something great in the midst of something yucky.

Sorry to disappoint.

But - we do not mourn as those without hope.  God is good - all the time.  Even when I do not understand this world and the pain in it, I can look to God to make sense of it all someday.  My pain is because of a loss that I have; I miss that person.  That will not go away.  And why should it?  There is nothing that will change the fact that I miss my mom.  Missing her is the only appropriate response that I could possibly have to the fact that she is not with us for the holidays or for any day.  But that does not mean that I lack hope or that I am in despair.  In fact, I would assert that I honor her best by accepting that I miss her, by recognizing her absence, by having my little cry, being thankful for the time I had with her before she was gone, and then by enjoying those I have around me...

Holidays: When Loss is Amplified

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.  The history behind Thanksgiving is one of those "history written by the victors" moments.  Last night, we hosted my son's cross country team's end of season banquet.  One of the discussions that caught my attention was when a mom shared that she had said to her hairdresser, "Who doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving?"  Her hairdresser's response, "My family."  It turns out she is half Ojibwe and sees Thanksgiving as a symbol of betrayal.  An interesting take...but not the thought behind today's post.

Nine years ago, Thanksgiving week was when we discovered that my mom had terminal cancer. She died by the following June.  I do not even remember the first Thanksgiving without her although I am sure that we spent the time in Grand Forks with that side of the family.  In recent years, with my husband's dad's health in decline, we have spent most Thanksgivings with his family.  Thanksgiving is hard.  Holidays are hard.

When a loved one is no longer a part of our lives, holidays can be hard.  Traditions that we once had are no longer. Family dynamics change as the family attempts to negotiate that missing person's spot or fill the gap that the loss leaves.  And if new family members enter the family system (remarriage, etc), where do the new persons fit into the traditions that we once had? Or - *gasp* - if that new person wants to impose his or her family traditions onto our family tradition, how does that make us feel?  That seems to be an incredibly long run-on sentence, but I honestly do not care.  When we write about emotional things, they just tumble out of our heads like that.  The fact that I know that it might be a run-on sentence should prove to the world that I can use it artistically in this instance in order to illustrate something.

Although we feel these losses in our every day lives, the holidays tend to have heightened emotions.  If the one who always read the Christmas story to the children is no longer there to read the story, who will read the story?  We feel this loss deeply each time this attempt to have our traditions occurs.  I do not remember if I put up a tree for that first Christmas after my mom died; she liked putting up the tree.  If the one who cooked the turkey is no longer there to cook the turkey, how can we even eat turkey anymore?  Who will cook the turkey the way he cooked the turkey?  Who will make that special stuffing that only she could make?

It seems only natural that this happens to us.  Death is an unkind and unwelcome visitor in our lives.  I have thought a lot about this for the past nine years (I started thinking about my mom's death before it actually happened...I'm a planner...what was I going to do without her?).  I used to think that losing someone at an early age (I was only 29 years old when my mom died) was worse than losing someone at an older age.  However, as I have walked through the passing of parents with others following my own loss, I have come to realize that it just does not matter how old we are when a parent passes away.  There is never a good time to lose someone - anyone - a parent, a spouse, a child, another family member, or a friend.  It just does not matter.  Those people mean something to us, and we do not want to live life without them.  It does not matter if we know about their death or if they die suddenly.  Loss is loss, and loss hurts.

Holidays amplify the hurt that loss inflicts upon us.  What seems almost manageable in our every day lives can turn into something insurmountable because of the holidays.  The pain seems nearly gone, and then a holiday arrives.  Plans are different than they were...and it does not even matter if what we did for those holidays drove us nuts!  It is not the same; we cannot do it "that way" ever again because "that person" is not with us anymore.  And that hurts.  There really is no way around it; we just have to go through it.  It is like attempting to cross a river without a bridge; we have to go through the river.  Usually, the river will not consume us.  We will come out on the other side a little wet (maybe a lot wet), but we will come out of the river after having gone through it.  Likewise, with the feelings of loss, we just have to go through them.  We have to take five minutes and have a little cry in the bathroom at our in-laws' house (because crying in front of them would be mortifying).  And then we move on and hope that the next year would be a little less painful than the last.

This is the point in the blog post where I should turn the thought on its head and offer something hopeful that changes our perspective so that we can see something great in the midst of something yucky.

Sorry to disappoint.

But - we do not mourn as those without hope.  God is good - all the time.  Even when I do not understand this world and the pain in it, I can look to God to make sense of it all someday.  My pain is because of a loss that I have; I miss that person.  That will not go away.  And why should it?  There is nothing that will change the fact that I miss my mom.  Missing her is the only appropriate response that I could possibly have to the fact that she is not with us for the holidays or for any day.  But that does not mean that I lack hope or that I am in despair.  In fact, I would assert that I honor her best by accepting that I miss her, by recognizing her absence, by having my little cry, being thankful for the time I had with her before she was gone, and then by enjoying those I have around me...

Grateful for My Family Bush

November is one of my favorite times to be on Facebook.  All throughout the month, people post their "thankfuls" each day.  Because I like to be slightly rebellious about some times (while being a joiner at other times), I do not participate in most things that I am told to do on Facebook.  I do not tell the color of my bra even though I am very much in favor of breast cancer awareness initiatives.  And I do not post daily thankfuls during November.

This morning, though, I awoke with a mind full of what I would say if I were to post the things that I am thankful for each day, and essentially this blog post started to write itself.  These are the types of "racing mind" moments for which this blog was created.  The verbal or written vomit of these ideas flowing from my head will then clear the mind so that it can do the tasks of the day.

I am thankful for my family bush.

While others still have a traditional family tree, many of us now have a family bush instead.  The painful world in which we live has made the family bush more common.  What I mean by this is that, instead of the traditional branches that connect neatly together from one family line into the next, we now see bundles of family lines intersecting due to death, divorce, remarriage, and single parenting.  While there is pain involved in this, there is also redemption.  My husband (a preacher-man) recently preached a sermon about why God hates divorce.  One of the reasons that God hates divorce is that it breaks the image of marriage.  God intended marriage for good; divorce breaks covenant not only between the two involved but also with God Himself.  But my huz is quick to point out that God realizes that, in our human state, divorce will happen because of sin in our world.  When that happens, God has a plan of redemption.

As much as family bushes represent the pain that has occurred in the lives of those who have them, they can also be seen as a symbol of the redemption that can, or possibly has, taken place in those lives.  This is so true in my own family bush!  When one would look at my entire family bush, there is a lot of redemption to be seen.  I am the oldest of eight "kids," but there are two other "oldests" (we all happen to be girls too!) in my bush because they are the oldest child in their nuclear family.  My brother Marc and I were born to Paul and Von before their divorce.  Paul married Maggie, and they have three children who are my half-siblings.  Von married Rick.  Von passed away.  Rick married Janet who had been married previously and had three children who are my step-siblings.  The bush grows when we start adding the aunts, uncles, and grandparents who are all included because of these life interruptions.  I am blessed by each person who is a part of this bush.  They enrich my life and have played a part in who I am today.

There is no doubt in my mind that God did not intend for there to be divorce or even death as part of our original experience.  But that design was interrupted by the very first people who did not want God's design for their lives.  Once they had disobeyed and saw how hard life was outside of God's design, they yearned for something more.  Generations later, God interrupted that interruption with His own plan again - Jesus.  Realizing that humans were not capable of bringing about redemption by any act of their own, God provided for redemption by sending His son into the world to die as the payment for our sins, to conquer death and raise from the death, and to ascend to heaven to be once again with His Father.  Because of God's intentional redesign of His plan, we now have the ability to live in a redeemed state.

In my younger years, I saw my family bush as a negative image because it represented the brokenness of what had been a family tree.  For years, I focused on the negative impact that these events have in my life.  While that is a natural thing, I think that I missed out on God's blessings for my mind in realizing that He has redeemed the situation.  The family bush does not have to be a negative image; it can be a positive image of the redemptive power of what God has done and will do through this situation.

Don't Settle!

I have struggled all day with what to write in my blog.  That is why it hasn't been written until now.  Writing a blog every day is a great exercise, but it does require an endless amount of material.  Although my life is exciting and full of blog-able moments, I struggle with which thought should be blogged and which should be kept in my head.

And then I drove home from work today and saw the billboard pictured below. I am pretty sure that people passing me on Lyndale Ave N, where I had pulled over, put on my hazard lights, opened the sun roof, and popped up to to take the photo, thought I was nuts.  And maybe I am...but when you see the perfect material for a blog, you have to stop and take that photo!



Today was an interesting day.  My work computer decided that it wanted to have a mind of its own (think boiphren for those of you who know that my phone likes to type whatever it wants sometimes - same issue), and it gets to go off to the company for some warranty work.  I am so tied to technology for every move I make from tracking student progress to sending out the letters to knowing where I should be...that when my computer has issues, I have issues.   I met my new renter to exchange money for keys.   I attended a truancy intervention meeting in Hennepin County - but the kid did not show.  I struggle with understanding why there is such an apathy in this culture.  Why do people not take responsibility for themselves and their kids?  Why are people settling for less than the best?

And then I saw the billboard on my way home, and it made me think, "If people are not willing to settle when it comes to snow, why would they settle in anything else?"

It is an interesting thought, really.  What makes us willing to settle in any part of our lives?  Why do some women settle for jerks when they are beautiful inside and out and deserve so much more?  Why do some people settle for mediocre jobs when they have so much more potential?  Why do some students settle for failing grades instead of living up to what their brains can do?  Why do we settle?

And then the next question that came to mind is, "What is settling?"  Does one person's excelling look like settling for someone else?  Are we settling when we prioritize our children over our jobs?  I do not think so, but someone else might see it that way.  Is it settling when we give to charitable organizations instead of buying a camero?  Again, I do not think so, but some people might see it that way.

Perhaps the concept of settling is somewhat subjective; however, I am willing to argue that we should never settle in our relationships with our families.  While some families have their issues (and believe me, mine probably has its ownsubscription) and these issues make having great relationships hard, we can always be striving to have better relationships.

The relationships that I have with my husband and my children need to be relationships where I do not settle....I want them to be excellent.  I want more than anything for my marriage to be the best that it can be.  Sometimes I let my own selfish ambitions or wants get in the way of this.  I need to re-evaluate and remind myself that this partnership should be the best thing.  The funny part about this is that my husband is the best part of my life.  He sees me in ways that I could not have asked anyone to see me.  He sees beyond my imperfections.  He believes in me.  He wants the best for me.  I need to reciprocate for him.  I will not grow old with a stranger; I want to grow old with my best friend.

I will not settle for a mediocre relationship with my children.  I want my children to grow up thinking that I was the best mom that they could have had.  One of the ways that I think I can do that is by letting them know that I am not perfect and that they should have other influences in their lives.  I need to hold them closely but loosely.  I want to be a major part of their lives, but I realize that they need other adults to influence them as well.  This is a concept that not all parents accept, but I believe it to be true.  Watching my children interact with other adults is a wonderful thing.  My husband and I have sought to build a community of other adults around our children.  It is easier to do when one is part of a church family, but there are other ways as well.  When those adults reinforce my values and say the same things that I do, my children realize that I am not crazy for having high expectations for their behavior.

I know that settling for me looks differently than it would for someone else.  I also know that I struggle with settling in different areas than others do.  The point, though, is this: why settle in anything?  Why not live life abundantly and to the fullest each and every day?

My Computer is Nuts

My computer has caught a cold. It basically types whatever it wants. Like a willful toddler, it does the opposite of what it is told. I try to type "with," but it type lptus. What in the world?!?!

I took it to the computer doctor, and - like that sick toddler would - it no longer had symptoms! I remember taking my son to the doctor when he was little. He had been up all night screaming about his ears being in pain. When the doctor came in to the room, my son suddenly was fine. He smiled at the doctor and answered her questions. My computer basically did the same thing! It turned out the my son had an ear infection; the tech guy, however, could not find anything wrong with my computer.

This type of thing can make me crazy. All I wanted to do today was write my bog (thank goodness for my smartphone!), but, when the computer does what it wants, my productivity is completely impaired.

Although technology is great, there are times when it is a real nuisance. Today is one of those days. Rather than bemoaning the fact that my blog will not be as lengthy or as appealing to readers, I will take the time I have gained and do something great with it....something that does not require my computer...now what would that be?

Is there anything left in my life that is not touched by technology?

Too Many Commitments

One should take a good look at one's calendar and consider before saying "yes."

I am in yes mode. I had been in no mode. That got old. So I have been saying yes. It is fun, but it sure is busy!!!

Tonight is the last night of the musical. While I will miss hearing my daughter's beautiful voice, I am ready for a bit of quiet. Fewer trips to school, fewer late nights, and no more checking of the ticket line are things we can do without for a bit.

We still have plenty going on!

And spring play try-outs are just around the corner...

The Saga Continues...

Breaking Dawn, the fourth movie in the Twilight series, opened last night at midnight.  I have already seen the Facebook posts making mention of people's plan to see it...or maybe they went to the midnight showing last night and are still sleeping.  The posts will increase as the day goes on; I am sure. Taking cues from the Harry Potter camp, the movie makers have broken the last book into two movies.  More movies equals more money.  The LA Times blog claims that it "could (almost) make box office history."

This makes me (almost) sick to my stomach.

I do not stand in opposition to these books and movies without having read the books (they are written at about a fifth grade level, so they were a super fast read) and having seen the movies (the second movie was such a waste of time that I wish I could sue the movie makers for the time back).  One of my pet peeves is that people criticize things without having actually read them.  I wanted to be critical of the Harry Potter series, so I read the books.  I was wrong about them in my first impression and actually found them not only delightful but also insightful.

That is not so with the Twilight series.

Back when I read the books in November 2008, I blogged about them, so I am just going to repost the links below:

Twilight - November 17, 2008

Twilight Part 2 - November 18, 2008

Twilight Thoughts - yes more... - November 20, 2008

New Moon (#2 in Twilight Series)  - November 26, 2008

Twilight Series - December 9, 2008

Breaking Dawn (4th in Twilight Series) - December 12, 2008

So - three years later, and a few movies later, I stand in opposition to this series for the most part because of its depiction of the male/female relationships.  I am absolutely opposed to the isolation that is caused in Bella's life and the codependency that she depicts in her need and desire to be with Edward.  He is dangerous, he is "bad" for her, and even though very wise people  (Jacob and even her dad) in her life try to point this out, she is obsessed with him.  She needs him.  Wow.

Why are girls so infatuated with dangerous boys?

My daughter is in Footloose - the Musical this weekend; anyone who reads this blog frequently knows that.  I am so proud of her!  Her character is the voice of balance in the story, and my daughter pulls it off well.  I say that completely objectively.  However, there are concerns in this musical as well about females wanting to be with dangerous men.  The main character - Ariel - has a bad boy boyfriend...Chuck Cranston who, as Ariel's friend says in one scene is "the high school drop out who gets in trouble with the law and is about to be evicted from the trailer park."  Who wouldn't want her daughter to be with this boy? (insert sarcasm sign here)

This is a major theme in many musicals and books.  Grease is another example.  In Footloose, the girl leaves the bad boy.  But in Grease, the good girl turns bad.  Who doesn't love that scene in the movie when Olivia Newton John shows up in leather pants with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth?  I mean, that is classic!

As a community of people who are involved in raising children, we need to be aware of the messages that our culture promotes.  We are all involved in this "raising" - Search Institute says so, and I agree with them.  I know from my own personal experience that parents alone do not raise children; it does take all of us around them.  And we need to be sure that we engage with the messages that our media promotes so that we can engage in conversation with our children (teens, young people - whatever) and even combat the messages.

I am not Team Edward or Team Jacob; I am Team Daughter and Team Son.  I want my daughter to know that there is not a boy on earth for whom she should leave behind everything else she loves.  And I want my son to know that there is not a girl on earth that he should ever treat the way that Edward treats Bella.  If he had any idea of what love is, he would not allow danger to be part of her life.  Becoming a vampire and eventually giving birth to a parasitic vampire offspring is not showing love to this girl; it is selfishness gone worse than one could imagine.

The Twilight series depicts an unrealistic and damaging approach to relationships, and the only redeeming quality in the books at all is the fact that, like my Cheeseball Chick friend Molly promotes, Edward and Bella "wait" until marriage.

That is not worth the hours of negative messages that I read and watched as I sifted through the Twilight series.  And, quite honestly, I do not plan on watching this movie.  The LA Times claims that it is worse than the book itself.

That is hard to imagine.

World Prematurity Day

One of the things I love most about Facebook is the ability to reconnect with people from my childhood.  A while back, a woman with whom I attended junior high school requested to be my friend.  I did not recognize her new last name, but I quickly figured it out.  Funny - I did not know that we were friends.  I thought she hated me.  But through the power of growing up and out of the junior selves that we were, we now have connected through Facebook.  I enjoy knowing about her life now.  She shared a link yesterday from the March of Dimes about World Prematurity Day, which is today, and the information about it woke me up this morning with thoughts about premies.  So - kudos to her for sharing the information that is dear to her heart.

Sixteen years ago, I was pregnant with our beautiful daughter who will sing again tonight in Fridley High School's production of Footloose - the Musical (do you have your tickets??).  In fact, at this time in the calendar sixteen years ago, Kerry and I had flown to the east coast to look at Princeton and Gordon Conwell Theological Seminaries.  I was "great with child," uncomfortable, and excited about our trip as it included a pre-Thanksgiving meal with my Rhode Island family.  A month later, however, my doctor put me on bed-rest with pre-eclampsia symptoms.  And two months later, on January 24, my doctor said, "We are having this baby today!" because the condition had worsened.  C-sections are a beautiful thing - at least in my experience.  Two hours after my doctor decided that "today was the day," my daughter and I no longer shared my body, and we had seen how beautiful she was.  To this day, I can see that cute little button nose and small features of our beautiful little girl who has grown from 19" into a five foot something young woman who sings "Can You Find It in Your Heart" in the musical like an angel.  She has the stage to herself, spotlight just on her, and she is Vi Moore....

My daughter was born at 36 weeks gestation - just at the cut off of being a premie.    Because my doctor had foresight that my condition could become dangerous for both of us, he had given me a shot a few weeks earlier to stimulate her lung growth as that would have been the biggest worry for her early beginning.  Although she was tiny at 5lbs 4oz, she had no struggles right away.  She has had some lung/asthma issues as she has grown up; however, her premie story is much less catastrophic than most premie stories.

I am amazed when I hear about how early of a start some babies get.  I googled "earliest premie baby" and found a story on msnbc.com about a baby who survived being born at just under 22 weeks!  That is amazing!  I am also amazed when I googled "latest weeks to have an abortion in US" - 24 weeks.  I want to be clear that I have a great deal of compassion for the women who have chosen abortion - in part because of this very contradiction in the medical field.  If I want my baby, and she is born at 24 weeks, then we fight for her life.  If I do not want my baby, and I am 24 weeks along, I can choose to abort in some states.  This is so contradictory and confusing!  Now, if I am in a situation of uncertainty because I am in pregnant without really wanting to be pregnant, what do I do?   I have been privileged to walk down a healing journey with several women who have had abortions and have later regretted it.  If someone is reading this blog and needs healing from that past decision, click here to find out information about the Conquerors program.

Sorry - sidelined...

The original thought about premies that woke me up very early this morning is that they are revolutionary as children, teens, and adults.  When I say "revolutionary," I do not necessarily mean that they are toppling governments, but that is a possibility as well.  In my anecdotal, non-research based observations of life, I have witnessed that those born early, those who had to fight to breath, and those who have experienced this very early struggle in their own lives, grow into compassionate, earth-shattering, and moving young people and adults.

This was true early in our daughter's life.  She sees life through a different lens.  Perhaps this is hardwired into her personality, but I do not think that is entirely the answer.  I truly believe that there is something about that early struggle in her life that biologically and spiritually impacted her forever.  She feels people's struggles as well as sees them.  She has an intuition in her that is rare to find.  And she acts on these things.   When she works at Village Creek Bible Camp during the summer, one of her favorite assignments during family camps is to be with families who have a member with special needs - whether adult or child.  She and her lunch table friends have invited a special education student to join them every day at their table.  "If he doesn't sit with us, he doesn't have anyone to sit with," she said when I asked her more about it.   A few weeks ago, they bought him a birthday cake to celebrate.  This boy has issues, according to my daughter, but her table overlooks them.  Instead, they see him as their friend, and they bought him a birthday cake!  What high school girls do this?  Where is the "mean girl" in them?  I bet they all were premies!  :)

Not all premies make it.  Not all premies can lead independent lives.  Some require constant care for the rest of their lives.  Regardless of whether they are movers and shakers or need constant care and regardless at which week in gestation that they are born, they are babies.  They are precious, and they deserve a fighting chance...a chance to become fighters regardless of their desperate and difficult beginnings.  Thank God for the technological advancements that had been made so that our daughter could have a shot and avoid the NICU in her early life.  Thank God for NICUs, though, for those who need some extra time and care to get their lives started.  And thank God for the March of Dimes who champion the cause of premies around the world!

Surprise!

Yesterday was Rick's birthday.  Rick was the star of a previous blog post: "My Adoption - A Fairytale."

Getting Rick the perfect present is not easy. The man has all of the gadgets one could possibly want.  He is a frequent stayer at Sam's Club, so he sees the gadgets, buys the gadgets, and shares the gadgets!  We have been blessed to have some gadgets as well: turkey fryer, quesadilla maker, and more!

Surprising Rick is not easy either.  He has a Facebook account so that he can keep up on all of the happenings of his friends and family.  He is not much for writing status updates himself, and getting him to "like" a post is pretty much as active as he gets.  However, this past summer when my son posted a picture of his swollen eye due to a bug bite, Rick knew - because of Facebook - before I did.  In fact, he texted me to find out what happened!

Yesterday, though, I surprised Rick.  Early in the morning, I called Hugo's (the grocery store across the street) and ordered balloons for delivery. I still giggle when I think about the man protesting to me, "The only thing across the street from us is an appliance store."  I kindly told him that I meant across the other street!  As I heard from Rick himself, the balloons showed up at the same time that his sister called to wish him a happy birthday and just as his wife and her daughter entered the motel with birthday lunch.  He was surprised!  The full package was a great mind picture for me from five hours away, and I am glad that so many people celebrated him.  What fun!

We spend a lot of time running around doing things for ourselves and for our jobs, but sometimes we need to think about others.  November is National Adoption Month, and I have been challenged to think about orphans and their plight for the past 15 days.   Adoption and orphan care is just one way that we can think beyond our own lives.  Our neighbors, our families, and our friends need to know that we think about them and that we care about them.

I am awful at remembering birthdays.  Thank goodness for Facebook and its reminders! Thank goodness for Facebook and its ability to write on people's walls with some special thought.  I am also horrible at remember other days that are important to those who are important to me.  However, I do love to get things for people when I think of them.  When I saw chocolate chip cookie dough in a box for sale at Target, I had to buy some for my friend who loves cookie dough.  When I see chocolate at CVS while picking up a prescription, I have to buy some for our church custodian.  He also likes Pepsi, but I will not spend money on Pepsi!

Taking the time to celebrate our friends, families, and coworkers, as well as reaching outside of own homes into causes such as post-prison ministries and orphan care is important.  What will I do today to show someone else that they are important to me?  Yesterday, I sent Rick balloons.  Today, I will ....

School Choir: Church and State?

Last night, we attended our daughter's first choir concert of this school year.



I love her choir director.  He wants the students to learn an array of music from many different eras and countries.  In addition, he wants them to experience the sound of that music in different settings.  The concert last night had songs from a variety of eras.  One of those eras included a time where composers wrote a lot of music for European church choirs.  Therefore, he held the concert at a Catholic church.  All high school choir students should experience an Ave Maria while singing in a cathedral.  Such acoustics can be found in few other places.

As we waited to sit down, I overheard another attendee question the setting of the concert.  He said, "What happened to the separation of church and state?"  Oh my!  What an ignorant man...

I could go on a rant about what the separation of church and state is meant to be, but I am not the most qualified person to do that.  I suggest that we all take another lesson in this, though, as our children enter high school.  And we should dive pretty deeply into the content of what it truly means to have a separation of church and state if our children choose to be in choir.  Much of the music that actually teaches students anything will have religious ties to some culture.  In removing those songs from the curriculum, we lose what it means to learn.

In fact, if we want to remove any ideology from the music classroom, we cannot have a music class at all.  Even Justin Bieber and Brittany Spears have an ideology woven into their music.  Music at its very heart is ideological and, often, religious.  Most cultures use song and dance as a way to connect with others as well as their Higher Power.  Whether to connect with others or to worship a god, song is integral to the the culture.  Simply exposing students to these songs will not convert them to a particular religion.  Singing an Ave Maria at a Catholic church is not the school imposing the Catholic religion on anyone!

While I understand that many want to ensure that the state stay out of our church affairs and that the church stay out of our state affairs, a choir concert held in a Catholic church is not a way to circumvent this concept.  Rather, educating our children in a way that allows them to appreciate and understand other cultures is an important part of public schools.

Many cultural perspectives have found their way in to curriculum and textbooks, so why the opposition to the concert in a Catholic church?

Caring for the Orphans

Yesterday, our church recognized Orphan Sunday, a national day meant to raise awareness of the orphan crisis around the world.

We heard staggering statistics about this worldwide issue.  Watch the video below to see and hear the numbers that we encountered yesterday.

[vimeo http://www.vimeo.com/28012514 w=400&h=225]

Orphan Sunday 2011 from Christian Alliance for Orphans on Vimeo.

These are staggering numbers, but each set of numbers represents actual children who are so much more than numbers could ever say. They each have a different face, a different story, and a different future. Overwhelmingly, though, their futures seem very similar and appear dim. If we believe the statistics, over half of the children in these numbers have very bleak futures that include homelessness, suicide, prostitution, and crime.

That does not have to be the case! Their futures could be filled with hope and promise. I could make a difference for one. My friend could make a difference for another one. And on and on...until all of their futures are changed!  If all of us who live lives of privilege would reach out one hand to one child, imagine what we could do!  What would happen if we reached with both hands?  We look at those what are reaching and think that they are remarkable.  They are...because they are doing what I am not.  They have answered a call that is not just for them; it is a call that each of us has.  When we ignore the call, when we do nothing, and when we turn a blind eye, we allow the "orphan problem" to continue.

In Minnesota, Hennepin County has a great dissonance. It is a county with a high need for foster homes. It is also a county with some of the wealthiest people in the state. While small families live in large houses which sport dens, offices, and guest rooms, children wait for foster families at St Joseph's Home for Children. We sleep comfortably in our three bedroom rambler where each of our two children have their own room. The children at St Joe's weep in their bunk beds in dorm style rooms. Our children get a hug goodnight and prayers or a song to help them fall asleep.  The children at St Joe's learn self-soothing mechanisms to counteract the cold, harsh reality of their situation.  We sleep well - content in our ignorance. They go to sleep hoping that tomorrow they will have a family. And this is in not some far away country - this is right here only a few miles from where I live!

November is National Adoption Month, but it is also a good time to think about orphan issues in general. Adoption is the finalizing of a forever family, but that is not the only way that we each can help orphans. Children need temporary shelter from storming families as well. Foster care, the care of children right here in our own city or county, is a great need.  This requires an ability to see oneself as part of the solution rather than the solution itself as one may find adoption seems. Sometimes parents need time to learn skills that they never learned because their own families were stormy. While they learn these skills and work a case plan, their children need a safe and loving place to grow.  This is a great ministry!

I get overwhelmed when I think about all of this. I am sad that I do not know how to do more. I am sad that I do not do more. I get caught up in my own selfish hopes and dreams. However, I know that doing what I could do to be a part of the solution would not require that much.  If today is not the day that my home is open to those who have none, then I need to find ways to assist those who do.  If I do not have what it takes to provide temporary shelter, then I need to find ways to support the ministry of those who do.  I do not mean that I should write more checks!  I mean that I need to take a meal, to listen as they share their frustrations with the system, and to just be ready to do anything they need.

Rather than being overwhelmed, however, I need to remember those that have reached out to orphans and be encouraged.  They are my friends.  They are my family. They are ordinary people doing an extraordinary job of living out the call to care for orphans.  And they are making a difference.  One child.  One family.  The problem is big...but the solution is as small as one person.  And another...and another...and another....and another...

Travel: Making Friends (2)

Last week was a crazy week.

In 96 hours, I covered 1,600 miles by plane, bus, and shuttle, saw a concert with a friend, presented at a conference, and made it home in time for opening night of my daughter's musical. My sleep schedule is all messed up, and I have no idea what day it is without the schedule of what comes next.

And I would not change a thing! In those 96 hours, I had the additional bonus of meeting some interesting people.

On the Megabus, I more eavesdropped into the life of the woman behind me than met her. Thanks to her non-stop phone calls for the six hour bus ride, I learned that she was en route to Chicago to visit her birth mother for the first time. She seemed to be about 22 years old, she was alone on the bus, and she was excited, nervous, and scared.

Travel: Making Friends

I love to travel.

Although my preferred method of travel seems to be changing as air travel becomes more cumbersome and less friendly (remember when we used to "fly the friendly skies"?), I still love to travel. I also like traveling alone from tome to time. As my kids get older, they are more and more embarrassed when I talk to other travelers.

I have been traveling for a long time. The world is big and scary if I do not make friends along the way. However, there are some really interesting people in the world. We meet people all the time in random ways. We talk to the teller at the bank, we "network" at conferences, and we talk to the person sitting next to us on the airplane.

I stayed up all night on Tuesday night after going to see the Civil Wars and then needing to catch a 5 a.m. flight to Indiana for my conference on Wednesday. The normally crowded area inside the airport was pretty empty after midnight! As I surveyed the possible spots to plop myself down, taking into account my need for plug-ins for all of my electronic devices, I found myself drawn to a corner where a woman much my senior slept.

In true "Stacy" fashion, I watched until she awoke and acknowledged her. It did not take long before we talked as if we had been friends forever. Martha, if you are reading this, I want you to know that I count you as friend.

As I mentioned in a previous post, other people's stories fascinate me. I love to listen. I love to talk. In our world filled with headphones and other means of tuning out those around us, I fear that we miss out. We are so afraid of the potential creeper, stalker, or serial killer that we just pull into our cocoon and ignore those around us. We put checks in the mail and send "trained" people out to touch the world. In doing this, we lose a part of what it means to be human.

I have met so many fascinating people over the course of my travels!

On Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, Martha shared with me about her life. I loved learning about her family, her own travels to places like Germany (by ship....can you imagine!), and how she became a director of musicals and plays. I was fascinated that she had worked at boarding schools and that her children now also work at boarding schools. It astonished me that her children had grown up in New Hampshire but attended college in the Midwest. What a culture shock! As often comes up, I shared with her that my husband is a minister. From there I learned about her faith journey. We each had very good reasons for spending the night in the airport...I had gone to a concert; she needed to be home in time to direct a choral concert honoring Holocaust survivors.

I could not make this stuff up! This is where story is found. Real people. Real stories. If I ever wrote a book, my characters would not be "friends" that I created...they would be real, wonderful people with whom I have shared adventure and a brief six hours of conversation.

Ten years ago, our family embarked on a grand adventure and moved to Scotland for a year. Kerry had been granted a scholarship that we could not refuse! Looking back, I know that many must have thought that we were crazy. Kerry and I were 27 years old at the time. The kids were only 4 and 5. With eight suitcases, four backpacks, and layers upon layers of clothing on our backs (including LL Bean rain coats for the wet weather in Scotland), we flew across the pond and started a year filled with adventure, wonder, as well as school and work (for me anyway...).

We contracted for a flat - sight unseen - and arranged for the children to attend school...all through internet research and email. Friends who had gone over the year before us collected us from the airport and delivered us to the flat. We attended a military tattoo (awesome!!!!) at the castle, and the kids started school. So much wonder!

Over the course of our year in Scotland, we met many people. Because Kerry was a divinity student, we made many connections with those in his program. New College had events and trips for students and families that assisted us in making connections. I took a job at Starbucks and made a dear friend there with whom, thanks to Facebook, I remain in contact even today.

The most fascinating person whom we met in Scotland, though, would have top be our neighbor - AJ Stewart - who believes she is the reincarnated King James IV of Scotland. She has written books detailing her first life (The Autobiography of King James IV...as remebered by AJ Stewart) as well as the early years of her current life ("King's Memory" originally titled "Died 1513; Born 1925"). This woman became quite dear to me, and she challenged my thinking as well as enriched my life!

I want to be clear that I am not advocating that anyone throw caution to the wind as they travel. However, if we open our minds and hearts a bit, overcome the fear that overwhelms our society, and take off our headphones for a few minutes each day, we may find that someone interesting and exciting will fall into our life.

More Good Customer Service

As I mentioned yesterday, customer service is a really big deal to me. I seriously should have gone into quality and assurance for some big company. If I am satisfied, I am quite sure that the majority of customers would be as well. One of my most frustrating moments EVER occurred checking out at the Target in Aberdeen, SD, on Black Friday a few years ago. The system clearly showed that whatever planning that occurred was not being followed. I would assert that the thought behind the process had several flaws. Incidentally, this was not the experience during which a security guard escorted me out of the store that I mentioned in yesterday's post.

This past week, I have traveled 1600 miles in order to present at and attend an online learning conference. I have had a lot of time to experience customer service at its worst and at its finest. On Wednesday night, after discovering that Marriott has a contract with the devil (Pepsi), I went on a hunt for a can of the elixir of joy (Coca-Cola). The concierge at the JW Marriott made phone calls to three nearby businesses in order to save me extensive search time.

Presenting at this conference has been a dream of mine for the past six years of working in online education. I submitted the proposal early this summer and found out at the end of June that I had been accepted. I am humbled as I look through the qualifications of other presenters. Over half of them have PhDs in education, statistical analysis, psychology, and things I did not know even existed. I am honored to have been chosen, but I am also beyond intimidated. Anyone who knows me well knows that I can talk; however, as the size of the group increases, my confidence level decreases.

Preparing for presentations is not a strong point of mine. I tend to submit proposals for which I then regret having done so, but I always submit proposals of concepts that I know very well. An example of this is the presentations I have done annually about Facebook at the Minnesota Association of Alternative Programming in February. I put off preparation because I know the content really well, and a PowerPoint is not necessary. Give me the Facebook website and a scribbled outline on a napkin, and I am good to go. This week's presentation was different. Although this presentation's content (attendance and truancy in online schools) is what I live and breath every day, the level of quality for the presentation was expected to be much higher. For example, more professional PowerPoints, filled with engaging graphics, are the norm at this conference rather than the exception.

I arrived, thanks to the help of friends, colleagues, and my huz (he was a great resource!), well prepared; however, printing out a physical copy of my notes had slipped my mind. I am staying at the Courtyard by Marriott, and they have a great business center with a printer. They have Internet free of charge in the entire hotel (not true at the JW Marriott where it costs $7.95 per day - lame!).  I emailed my presentation to myself, headed down to the business center, and opened the PowerPoint. Fail.

The software on the business center's set up would not allow me to change the format to a slide with notes format for printing. My heart dropped. It was after 11 p.m., and bed needed to be a priority, but I had to get this done before I would sleep.

Wenjing saved the day! Wenjing had quickly become my pal as we commiserated about Marriott's unfortunate marriage to Pepsi. He scanned a document to me because it required a physical signature rather than an electronic response. He also had helped me figure out transportation to the airport. And he was aware of my distress over my PowerPoint problem. He gave me his personal gmail address (which I returned to him), I emailed the presentation to him, he formatted it correctly, and he printed it out for me.

This is good - great - customer service. I realize that "guest services" is his job, but it was the way that Wenjing provided the customer device that made a difference. He saw my need, he problem solved to be proactive, and he did it cheerfully. I was not a bother or a second thought. My needs were of top priority until solutions were found. He saw each issue through until the very end. For the record, Wenjing did give me permission to post his picture and use his real name.

In yesterday's post, I had said, "Good customer service needs to be celebrated; poor customer service needs to be reported." I think I need to amend that. Good customer service needs to be reported in the same way negative experiences need to be reported. While this takes time, it is so important! I have heard that a bad experience is much more likely to be reported than a positive experience. In addition, public perception requires 10 positive comments and experiences to change just one negative comment or experience. Good companies need to know what they are doing well so that they keep doing those good things!

I would love to hear about other companies that are providing good customer service. Share them with me...and with them...