Twenty Years as a Stay at Home Mom

Being a stay at home mom was not what I dreamed of when I was in college, majoring in business administration and marketing. Back then my dream job was to work for Hallmark's Shoe Box Greeting Cards, writing funny and sarcastic cards. I hoped to some day meet "a nice young man" (my mom's words), get married and have a family. I figured we'd send our kids to day care and I'd head off to write hilarious greeting cards every morning. I'd pick the kids up after work, make delicious dinners that everyone would eat without complaining, and have a spotless house because our kids would willingly pick up toys and help keep the place clean. However, I didn't want a white picket fence as that was too cliché and would need repainting too often.

Fast forward a few years and I met a nice young man named Eric. He asked me out on our first date while I was at work. No, I wasn't writing Shoebox Greeting Cards yet, but I was working in the lingerie department at JC Penney, which was providing me with great material for when I landed my dream job. After a couple of years dating, we got married and bought a house in the suburbs. The house had a chain link fence, which required no maintenance. I now had a job doing collection work for a company. While I was always professional on the phone, I may have polished up on my sarcasm after many of those collection calls.

After four and a half years of marriage, we had our daughter, Danielle. We found a wonderful home day care just down the street from us. Marilyn had 7 children of her own and loved Danielle like one of her own. She was patient and cheerful and after doing day care all day, she worked at a nursing home in the evenings. We loved Marilyn.


But something inside of me changed. Each weekday morning I'd mutter an expletive as I shut off my alarm clock. Dropping my baby off and heading to work was difficult. I wanted to be at home seeing her change and grow every day. I wanted to be there for all of her "firsts". But we didn't think we could make it on one income. I asked about working part time at my job, but it wasn't an option. So I started searching for a part time job. Remember when the Classified Ads in the Sunday paper was how you found a job? Each Sunday morning I would comb through those ads and never find a worthwhile part time job. Then one Sunday morning when I woke up, Eric told me that he already checked the ads and circled one that he thought fit me. I asked if it was part time and he it wasn't. Didn't he know that part time was important? What full time job could possibly be the right fit? Then I found the job he had circled:

Need a change? Be a Stay at Home Mom. 16 month Mom experience req'd. Benefits; well raised daughter, place in heaven, happy family; 9 month expansion plan to greater responsibility. Call 537-5788 ask for Danielle.

Eric isn't referred to as a romantic very often, but this was truly one of the sweetest things anyone ever did for me. It still took a few weeks to convince me that we could actually make it work on his income alone. But twenty years ago today, May 22, 1998, was my last day at work and the day I became a stay at home mom.

In those first years at home, I made a daily to do list, making sure I was still being productive. That fell by the wayside once that "9 month expansion plan" happened. Over the years I have occasionally questioned whether being home with the kids was the best thing for them. I've had people question what I do all day, especially once the kids went to school. I've wondered what we could have done with the extra income I could have brought in. But I always come back to the realization that the decision we made works for our family. That is all that really matters. And life at home with a husband, three kids and a dog has provided plenty of material if Shoebox Greetings happens to call with a job offer.

The Difference Between "F - it" and Faith

Despite what you might think from some of my past writings, I am not always full of faith. In fact, I have plenty of moments where the phrase, “F – it” goes through my mind. I’m betting most people have similar thoughts. While other’s thoughts might not be as offensive as mine, everyone has their moments thinking, “What’s the use?”, “Why keep on trying?” or simply, “I give up!”

 I have found that the best thing I can do when I’m having an “F – it” kind of day, is to go for a long walk out in nature. I am especially drawn to the woods. A little disclaimer here: I go for walks in the woods many days. This doesn’t mean that every walk is due to me having an “F – it” kind of day. Rather, I have found that regardless my state of mind or mood when I start my walk, it has always improved by the end of my walk.

 My walks are more soul exercise than physical exercise. While I’ve always liked walking in nature, my dog, Levi has taught me to take in my surroundings, rather than hurry past them. He likes to stop and sniff often on our walks. I used to hurry him along, but eventually started looking closely at nature every time he stopped to sniff. Clouds, trees, flowers, insects, birds and animals all started grabbing my attention. Soon after, I started carrying a camera along on our walks. As I began to see the mystery and miracles of this world all around me in nature, I started photographing them.

Right about the time I started carrying my camera along on walks, I had decided to focus on the word “faith” for a year, in place of making a New Year’s resolution. Also about that time, I came across a tree in the shape of an “F”. And I thought, “F for faith,” and snapped a couple pictures. Over the next several months, I also found the letters, a, i, t, and h in the woods. And, of course I snapped pictures of each of them. I loved the fact that I had literally found faith spelled out on my walks.

 While I found the letters to faith within a short period of time, it actually took me longer to realize that every walk I took bolstered my faith. Whether I stopped to look at the intricate details of a wildflower, or listened to a chickadee greeting me, I was mesmerized. Whether fragrant blossoms adorned the trees, colorful autumn leaves were falling or bare branches awaited the promise of spring, I could relate to the trees. When I spotted a deer and noticed she was watching me too, I felt connection.

A couple of years later, as I walked by the “F” tree on a walk once again, it occurred to me that “F – it” can be found in the word “Faith”.  The only difference between “F – it” and Faith is that Faith also contains the letters “a” and “h”.

“Ah.”

I find myself witnessing many “ah” moments on my walks. And it's precisely in those “ah” moments that I find in nature, that my attitude of “F – it” is transformed to an attitude of Faith.

Five Years

Five years ago today, June 19, 2011 was also a Sunday, and also Father’s Day. It was also a steamy hot day, just like today. That morning, I awoke in a hospital in La Crosse, WI. I’d been there since Tuesday, spending time with my mom, who was in hospice there. I’d slept in the family waiting room Saturday night so a couple of my other sisters could sleep in my mom’s room with her. I remember waking in the middle of the night and as I had trouble falling back asleep, I sensed God tell me, “Rest my child.” I was able to fall asleep then. The next time I awoke, was when my sister, Linda came into the waiting room to tell me she was going to be heading home for the day to milk cows and do other necessary farm chores. I went back to my mom’s room and overheard precious words that Linda spoke to my mom.

Mother was quite alert that morning. She spoke a lot and looking back, much of what she said to my sister Joanne and me signaled that she was hovering between this life and Heaven. Family visited again that day. In mid-afternoon, family stepped out of Mother’s room while the nurses bathed her. When we came back into the room an hour later, Joanne and I both noticed a huge change. She had a different look, her breathing had changed and she was no longer responsive. We notified other family members. We held her hands. We told her how much we loved her. We told her she’d always be a part of us. We told her that Daddy was waiting for her in Heaven. The left side of her mouth curled up in a smile, twice, one right after another. She took one final breath, and her spirit left her earthly body.

I remember thinking that those smiles must have meant she’d seen my dad and Jesus waiting for her. And I recall feeling like one moment I was holding her hand, and the next moment God was. It was such a bittersweet moment. I was ecstatic for Mother to be in Heaven with Daddy and Jesus. Yet I was devastated at the thought of life here without her. But mostly I remember thinking how blessed I’d been to spend her final days with her and that I would never doubt the existence of God again.

So here I am five years later…1827 days later.

So much has changed. Instead of a 14 year-old and two 9-year olds, we now have a 19 year-old who has just finished her first year in college and two 14-year olds who are about to start high school. And we have a three-year old dog, Levi. I can only imagine what Mother would think of me agreeing to get a dog!

I’m not the same person I was 5 years ago, not just because of losing Mother, but because life continues and you go on. And every experience changes you and shapes you. A lot has happened in five years. We like to classify things and “good” or “bad”, but really everything just helps us to evolve into who we are meant to be. Perhaps into who we really were all along. I wonder what Mother would say about me “putting myself out there” in ways I never had while she was alive. I wonder what she’d think of the person I am today.

I think back to that day five years ago and the thought I had then about never again doubting God’s existence. My faith had been bolstered greatly by all I experienced being with my mom in hospice. How could I ever question again? Just as I’m no longer the person I was five years ago, my faith isn’t the exactly the same either. It evolves with every experience. I think, I wonder, I question things. Some days my faith feels strong, some days…not so much. But it never leaves me. I have no doubt that God exists. 

On a couple of occasions, I’ve had people tell me that my faith inspires them. When that has happened, I’ve thought, “Really? My faith inspires you? How can that be?” Maybe it’s because the people who have said this to me have actually inspired me with their faith. These people admit that their faith is stronger some days than others. They admit they question things. They live, they love, they question, they experience, they grow. And along the way, their faith evolves.  

Perhaps what I saw with my mom in her final days was actually witnessing her faith come full circle. In the midst of my heartache those days, there was an indescribable beauty. I saw her emotional pain, the depth of her love, and the wonder of the child within her. I witnessed her faith evolving into what she was meant to be, what she was all along…a precious child of God.

God held his hand out to her that day, and she grasped it. In that ultimate step of faith, she was reunited with her earthly Dad, her husband who was Daddy to her children, and her Heavenly Father.

Happy Father’s Day indeed!

 

 

Pulling Strings in Heaven

Our oldest daughter, Danielle is about to start her senior year in high school. She will actually only be taking two classes at her high school this year. She will take the rest of her classes at the local community college. Those courses will earn her both high school and college credits that will transfer to whatever college she chooses to attend next year. She is very excited about only spending two hours at the high school each day.

We started looking at colleges last spring. Dani was certain she wanted to stay within the Twin Cities. She wanted to be away from home, but not far away. She has known for several years that she wants to be an elementary school teacher. She loves kids and they love her. She's taught Sunday School and VBS at our church for several years. She also has loved working with kids on the mission trips she has gone on. Kids just naturally gravitate toward her.

This summer, we visited several schools in the Twin Cities. She also wanted to visit Gustavus Adolphus College in St. Peter, MN. It's roughly 90 minutes away from home. It surprised me that she wanted to even visit somewhere outside the Cities. Dani, Lauren and I visited GAC during MN Private College Week earlier this summer. I was astounded by the beauty of the campus. I was also amazed to see the look on Dani's face. I could tell she liked it a lot. She later told me that as we walked around campus, she knew there was something very different about this campus compared to the Twin Cities college campuses, but she couldn't put her finger on it. It finally hit her...it was quiet! No traffic buzzing by, no sirens or honking horns from the bustle of the city. She said it was like someone put a college on a hill in Caledonia (the small SE MN farming community where I grew up). Perhaps that comment should have been a clue that my mom was up to something in Heaven.

We decided that another trip to visit GAC was in order, and that Eric should go along since Dani was seriously considering this college. It made sense to schedule the trip before high school starts up again.

Then, last week while on facebook, I saw a post from a "friend" of mine, Jenni. It stated that she and her husband had just bought a house in St. Peter. I put the word friend in quotes, because I had never actually met Jenni. I became friends with her on facebook after my mom died. I had met her dad, Curt, at my dad's funeral.

Years earlier, Curt showed up at my parent's farm with several kids in tow, inquiring about hunting on my parent's land. My dad agreed to let them hunt and after that, Curt was basically one of the family. He and his kids would visit my parents whenever they would come to hunt.When we would visit my parents, I would inevitably hear stories about how nice Curt and his family were. My mom was especially fond of Curt's daughter, Jenni. She would always tell me "Jenni is such a nice little person." When I met Curt at my dad's funeral, I understood why my parents loved him. He was just a genuinely nice guy.

Curt also came to my mom's funeral. This time, he brought his wife, Deb, along. Curt told us that Jenni really wanted to come for my mom's funeral but she was pregnant with her second daughter at the time and having preterm labor issues, so was unable to travel. I then friended Jenni on facebook and we exchanged a few stories and memories of my parents. I hoped we would one day meet.

So last week, when I saw Jenni's facebook post about buying a house in St. Peter, I sent her a message saying that my parents must still be trying to get her and I to meet. I explained that Dani was interested in Gustavus and that if she chose to go there, Jenni would have a babysitter for her two girls. Imagine my surprise when Jenni messaged back that her husband, Colby is the head baker at Gustavus!  She said to let her know when we planned to visit GAC again.

I know some people still are skeptical about my "red fox moments" as I call them, but like I've said before, when it happens to you, you just know. Not only did Jenni say her husband worked at Gustavus, but he is the head baker. My mom loved baking. She always had cookies and other baked treats on hand in case anyone stopped by to visit. And her dad (my grandpa) owned and ran the bakery in Caledonia when he was alive!

I messaged Jenni when we set up our Gustavus visit for today. I didn't think there was much chance of seeing her, but thought there was a slight chance of running into her husband. I mentioned it to Eric and Dani, but neither really said much, as they didn't know the connection.

The college visit was great, and I believe Gustavus is now at the top of Dani's list of potential colleges. We met with an Admission's Counselor, toured campus and met with the Teacher Education Coordinator of the Education Department. We were told that after that meeting, we would be given meal tickets to eat in the cafeteria. Again, I thought maybe we'd run into Jenni's husband. But Dani decided that she'd rather have lunch somewhere in the town of St. Peter.

The Admissions Office gave us a few suggestions of places to try. We drove by the suggested places and chose one: a bar and grill named Patrick's. We walked in and chose a table. When no waitress came by after a few minutes, we decided to move to a table in another room. As we walked into that room, I couldn't believe what I saw. There were Jenni and Colby sitting with another woman (Jenni's mom) at the first booth we walked by. I was walking behind Eric and grabbed his arm, to tell him who this was. Before I could even say the words, Jenni saw me and jumped up to hug me. We'd only seen each other's pictures on facebook, but knew each other instantly. She gave Eric a hug before he had any clue who she was!

Jenni invited us to have lunch with them. As we ate our burgers, she told stories about going to Caledonia to hunt with her dad. She said there were times that she would choose to spend a good part of the day visiting with my mom rather than hunting. Just talking with her, I understood why my mom loved her so much. She is kind and loving and funny. She told Dani that if she chooses to go to school at Gustavus that she will be her "mom away from Mom".  Eric commented later that it would be more like "sister away from Mom" since Jenni is no where near as old as us.

As I reflect on the day, I think of how many things fell into place so that Jenni and I ended up meeting. If she hadn't posted about buying a house in St. Peter, I never would have messaged her about Gustavus,  never would have know Colby was a baker there, never would have let her know we were visiting today. If we chose to eat on campus, or if a waitress had come to the first table we chose at Patrick's, we never would have met each other today.

While my dear mom said she "never did a lot" in her life, she sure pulled a few strings up in Heaven to get Jenni and I to meet today. Mother always said she was sneaky and my dad always said that God works in mysterious ways. I am certain they worked together in all that happened today. It was definitely a red fox day. When it happens to you, you just know.

It's too soon to know if Gustavus is where Dani will end up attending college. But I am confident God has a plan. And things will fall into place to happen according to His plan.

See You Next Time

Four years ago today Daddy was called home to Heaven. It was a Thursday: The Thursday after Easter. We'd been to the farm and celebrated Easter with my family on Saturday. On Easter morning, we left to have brunch with Eric's family. Before leaving, I went through the normal routine with my dad. He was having his breakfast and I slipped my arm around him for a hug. As he slowly said "Good-bye", I said, "See you next time." I always said "See you next time" because "Good-bye" seemed to permanent to me.

Daddy had already surpassed the doctor's prediction of "3 to 6 months left to live", so we knew our time with him was limited. Each time we saw him, he was more frail. He hadn't walked since Christmas (with the exception of one day walking from his bedroom to the living room, which no one witnessed.) He needed help with all his basic needs. Each time I helped to dress him he looked thinner than before. We knew it was only a matter of time.

Although he was unable to speak much any more, he always knew his kids and grand kids. But on Good Friday morning, as I sat in a chair just outside the bedroom, he looked at me and said, "Who are you?" I simply said, "I'm your youngest daughter, Kim. You know me. I'm Danielle, Lauren and Evan's mom." He seemed satisfied with that answer. As I helped get him dressed that morning, he looked at me and said, "Where are you?" Remembering his earlier question, I asked, "Where am I or who am I?" He repeated, "Where are you?" I replied, "I'm right here with you." He responded, "I like you!" I said, "I like you too." Months later as I read books about the experiences of the dying, I wondered about those things he asked me that morning. I read that often when people are nearing death, they will be "between Heaven and Earth". They may see relatives who have gone before them yet still see their earthly surroundings as well. I wondered if possibly he was really asking me if I was on Earth or in Heaven when he asked me where I was.

On Tuesday (two days before he died), Daddy was able to wheel the office chair he sat in, across the kitchen floor to the window. He then, some how, pulled himself to standing and looked out at the farm, toward the barn, one last time.

That Wednesday, my sister, Jo, called to let me know that Mother had called and asked her to come out to the farm. Daddy wasn't able to get out of bed that day. Perhaps I should have known and driven down. But he'd been close to Heaven's door a few times and always came back to us. My sister, Kathy, flew to Reno that day for a bowling tournament.

On Thursday afternoon, the phone rang. I answered, "Hello?" No one was there. This happened another couple of times and I was getting tired of it. I assumed it was a telemarketer. So the next time the phone rang, I answered with a smart aleck "Good-bye." Only this time, it was my sister, Jo. It had been her the other times too, on her cell phone which didn't get good reception at the farm. She quickly told me that she'd taken my mom to a scheduled doctor appointment and on the way home, she'd gotten a call from my sister-in-law, Leah who'd stayed with my dad. Leah could tell my dad had taken a turn for the worse. Jo wasn't sure if this "was it" or not. When I got off the phone with her, the kids walked in the door from school. They started telling me something they needed and I snapped at them that Grandpa was dying. I immediately felt guilty for breaking it to them like that. Evan ran out the door. I later found out that he ran to his friend Jake's, two houses away. He walked right into their house without knocking and went to Jake's room for support. I called Eric at work and told him he needed to come home. Between phone calls to my brother, Charlie, to update him and trying to get ahold of Kathy in Reno, time was slipping away. We must have finally left home about 5 pm.

We rushed toward the farm, stopping in Cannon Falls at the McDonald's for a bathroom break and to get a bite of food for the kids. I called my sister Jo from there and Daddy was still hanging on. I asked her to tell him we loved him and were on our way. I told her we'd be there around 8 pm. (Just this past week, we were driving to Rochester and stopped at that McDonald's. While we'd driven past it several times in the last 4 years, we hadn't stopped there again. As we pulled into the parking lot, all those memories came flooding back.)

I sat in the back of the van with Lauren and Evan reading a book borrowed from a family friend. It was called, "Someday Heaven". The book was helpful in explaining to children about death, funerals and Heaven. When we were about 10 minutes from the farm, I thought of calling Jo, but decided against it as we were almost there. As we pulled into the driveway at the farm, I saw my siblings gathered on the steps outside. I knew immediately. I knew Daddy had died. He had died about 10 minutes earlier. I was told Mother was in the living room next to the hospital bed where he lay. I went to her and gave her a big hug and the tears flowed out of both of us. I kissed Daddy on the forehead. He was gone.

While I felt bad that we hadn't made it "in time", I had a peaceful feeling that it was the way it was supposed to be. In hindsight, I know that it would have been very traumatic on my kids to see him struggling at the end. As we looked at my dad lying there, I noticed something. He'd long had a wrinkled crease in his forehead. In death, that crease of stress of gone. His spirit was free. I found comfort in that. I knew his earthly suffering was gone and he was in Heaven where there is no pain or sorrow...only joy.

My niece, Kelly, took a picture of the sunset that night. It was within minutes of my dad's death.  She showed us the picture the next day and it is beautiful. There were some clouds and yet the setting sun was brilliant. It really seemed appropriate. Daddy was leaving the clouds of this life behind and going home to God's brilliant light.

 

It is hard for me to believe it's been four years already. Yet it seems like forever since I last saw Daddy. I've changed in those four years. I don't just mean the gray hairs, wrinkles and extra pounds that have found me. Something inside has changed. I like to think it's for the better. I am learning to let go of things that I can't change. I've learned the only person I can change is myself. And I am learning to accept who I am, something I struggled with for a long time. Mostly, I think I've grown in my faith. I've seen many amazing things in these last four years...things that point directly to God. Daddy always said, "God works in mysterious ways." I know he would be happy that I have witnessed some of those amazing ways and that they strengthened my faith.

 

The four years that have passed are but the blink of an eye in Heaven's eternity. I know that I will see both of my parents again, when I am called Home. Until then, I silently tell them those final words I said to Daddy on Easter morning of 2009: "See you next time!"

Snow Days

Our kids had a snow day from school this past week. It was Lauren and Evan's second snow day ever and Danielle's third. It's not that we don't get much snow here. It's just that being in the city, roads get cleared faster and buses aren't traveling country roads. Back on the farm, we had lots of snow days. I remember listening to the radio and TV just waiting to hear that school was cancelled after a big snowfall. The minute it was announced that Caledonia was closed for the day, the cheering began! Here, we just assume that school will go on as usual. But when it is cancelled, we actually get an automated phone call announcing the closure. Early this past Wednesday morning, I was out shoveling the driveway. We had gotten several inched of snow overnight. Suddenly, Evan came out of the house screaming. I thought something happened to our new puppy. But Evan was hollering that school was cancelled! When I looked down at his feet, I realized he'd been so excited to tell me the news, he had run outside barefoot!

While the snow day this week was exciting for the kids, the one they got last year was one I'll never forget. Or maybe it's just the timing I will never forget. It happened on Leap Day, February 29. That was my mom's birthday. Being a Leap Day baby, she only had a "real" birthday every four years. When she had a real birthday, we always made a big deal out of it. The family would all gather to celebrate. Mother would receive cards and phone calls from what seemed like half the town of Caledonia. When I was in high school, the Caledonia Argus did an article on her having this special birth date. She commented in her interview that her youngest daughter (me) was older than she was. By the time of her death in 2011, she had grand kids that were older than she was. I recently found newspaper notices from 1928 and 1932 telling of birthday parties my grandma threw in honor of my mom's first two "real" birthdays.

The winter of 2011-2012 brought very little snowfall to the Twin Cities. During the last week of February, the forecast was calling for a big snowstorm to hit on Feb 29. I told the kids that Grandma must be up in Heaven trying to convince God to let them have a snow day. Not only was it her first birthday since she died, it was a "real" birthday to boot. As the week went on, the forecast changed a few times. By the time we went to bed on Feb 28, it appeared we would get little or no snow. But while we slept, the snow began to fall. And it began to accumulate. By morning, there were several inches on the ground. Just before 6 a.m. our phone rang. It was an automated message announcing that school was cancelled for the day due to the weather! By about 6:10, our kids were outside playing in the snow. It's humorous to me how early the kids are wide awake on a snow day. On regular school days, they can hardly drag themselves out of bed.



Mother with her 20th birthday cake in 2004



When you lose someone you love, the "firsts" are very difficult. I knew that Mother's first birthday after she was gone would be hard. The fact that it was a "real" birthday would make it harder. But that snowstorm, that snow day, on that Feb.29, made it impossible for me to feel sadness. Of course I still missed her and wished she was still alive. I wished I could call her and wish her a happy birthday and tell her that I loved her. But some how, all I could do that day was think of Mother and smile. Leap Day only comes once every four years. Snow days here generally come even less frequently. Yet those two things happened on the same day. Maybe Mother really did whisper in God's ear and convinced him to give my kids a snow day. That thought stayed with me the entire day and made that "first" a little easier for me to deal with.



Whether or not things like that actually happen in Heaven, I don't know. But I know how much Mother loved her family. I know that God loves us that much too. They'd both knew I would be home alone that entire day if the kids were in school. They both knew me well enough to know I would have had a difficult day as I remembered and missed her. So I can just imagine Mother and God coming up with the idea of a snow day for my kids on that day. That way I wouldn't be alone and the "magic" of the snow day on her birthday would make me smile. The thought of it still makes me smile. And I know that on every Feb. 29, I will re-tell the story of that snow day. Well planned God and Mother....well planned!



Blizzard Babies

How much do you know about your mom's pregnancy with you? How about your birth story? All I know is that I was born on my sister Linda's confirmation day, one day before my due date. I also know that if I was a boy, my name would have been Kelly Dale. In the past, parents didn't share many of those details with their children. My kids have been told far more about my pregnancies and their birth stories than us kids ever were. But, I bet if I asked each of my siblings which of our birth stories they know the most about, they would all answer the same: "Charlie."

In early March of 1959, Mother was due with her sixth child. The winter of 1958-1959 was the snowiest winter on record for Houston County, Minnesota. Almost 92 inches of snow fell that winter, 45 of them in March alone. My mom often told the story of how every weekend in February and March, there seemed to be another snowstorm. At times the snow was so deep that the milk truck could only make it to the neighbors just up the road from us. Then Daddy would put full milk cans onto wooden skis that he had made and skied the milk over the fences to the neighbors to be picked up by the milk truck. The ditches were already drifted full when the snow started on March 5, 1959. Over the next 3 days, 18.5 inches of snow came down. That, accompanied by strong winds, caused blizzard conditions.


The morning of March 6, started out just like any other Saturday morning at our house. My sisters, Linda and Jo, were busy watching cartoons on TV. (They still can't agree as to whether they were watching Mighty Mouse, Pixie and Dixie or Tom and Jerry!) Just a mile further down the road, our neighbors began calling to have a snowplow sent out to clear the road. The reason? The wife, Nadine, had gone into labor. The roads were completely blocked by huge snowdrifts and there was no way Nadine's husband, LaVern, could get her to the hospital. He had gotten his car stuck trying to get out of his driveway. Two snowplows were sent out, but it took a good part of the day to clear the 8 miles to their house. Nadine knew that my mom was also pregnant and due about the same time as she was. So, she called to let my mom know that the snowplows were clearing the road and to see how my mom was doing. Mother said she was fine. Nadine and LaVern offered to take Mother with them, just in case she should go into labor, but Mother said there were no signs of labor. I am willing to bet that she was also thinking that she had four children at home that she needed to care for and that with the weather as it was, she was needed at home. Daddy, though, thought differently. He told her that she needed to go with LaVern and Nadine, just in case. If she didn't, and she went into labor, the snowplows would have to make another trip, as the snow was still falling steadily and the wind was blowing fiercely. I also am betting that Daddy was thinking about my mom's last pregnancy. One and a half years earlier, Mother had given birth to my sister, Cindy, who was stillborn due to a cord accident. I am sure that Daddy knew if something happened to this baby and Mother wasn't at the hospital, she would blame herself. So he insisted that she go to the hospital, even though she wasn't yet in labor. (Luckily, my Grandma Betz lived with my family at that time, so she was able to care for my 4 oldest siblings.)

Several hours later, the snowplows made it past our house, and continued on for the last mile to the neighbors' house. A while later, Uncle Dale climbed up the ladder of the windmill so he could see when the snowplows were on their way back. I have always found it funny that he climbed up there in treacherous conditions so he could let Daddy know when Mother needed to be down at the road to be picked up. As the snowplows headed back toward our farm, LaVern and Nadine followed behind the first snowplow in their car (which the snowplow drivers had helped LaVern dig out). The second snowplow followed behind their car. When they came over the hill just west of our farm, they saw Dale at the top of the windmill. They stopped at our driveway long enough to pick up Mother and headed for the Caledonia Hospital. Daddy stayed at the farm to do chores. The plow drivers warned LaVern to let them escort him all the way to the hospital as the streets in Caledonia hadn't yet been plowed. I have often imagined the scene at the hospital when LaVern arrived with not one, but two very pregnant women. It's probably a good thing it was a small town and everyone knew each other. I can only imagine the rumors that would have started circulating otherwise.

After dropping the women off at the hospital, LaVern left his car there and walked to his parents house where he would be staying. The streets were unplowed so his car couldn't make it through. He had recently had hernia surgery and had a hired man at the farm to do chores for him. That was the only reason he was able to stay in Caledonia. LaVern's parents lived near the Catholic Church, which was a good hike from the Caledonia Hospital on a good day. Considering the snowfall and his recent surgery, it must have been a very tough hike for LaVern. When he arrived at their house, there was so much snow that the front door was inaccessible. He climbed a snowdrift to a second story window and removed the screen so he could get into the house. The following morning, he went out the window and down the drift again and shoveled the doors out.


I am not sure if my mom was checked into the hospital as soon as she arrived or if they had her sit in the waiting room, but she still had no signs of labor. Shortly after midnight, on March 7, 1959, Nadine gave birth to her daughter, Beverly. A few hours later, Mother delivered my brother, Charles Michael (Charles after my Grandpa Charlie and Michael after my mom's favorite uncle, Mike). The phone at the farm rang early that morning letting my dad know that he had a healthy baby boy.  I recall hearing that it was several days before the roads were in good enough condition for Daddy to make it to town to see his new son. The first time that Daddy made it to the hospital for a visit, LaVern joked with him and asked Daddy if he needed him to bring Maxine and the new baby home for him too.

In June of 2011, when my mom was in hospice, Bev's sister-in-law, Sandy, stopped in to visit. Sandy and her husband now live on that farm where Laverne and Nadine lived. She works at the hospital where Mother died. LaVern and Nadine had both already passed away. Sandy told us a very touching story of signs from God that she'd witnessed after LaVern's death. As she was getting ready to leave, she said to Mother, "Maxine, I reckon you are getting ready to go and see Earl again.  When you get there, be sure to say "Hi" to LaVern and Nadine for me." That reduced me to tears. I am sure Mother did tell them "Hi" when she made it to Heaven. And I'm sure that Mother and Daddy and LaVern and Nadine are all sitting up in Heaven now, reminiscing about that snowy day all those years ago when Charlie and Bev were born.

Life is Like a Rubik's Cube

In the early 1980's, when I was in high school, Rubik's Cube made it's debut on store shelves.  My brother, Mike and I spent hour upon hour trying to figure out how to solve it. There was no Internet back then so we couldn't easily find the solution. Daddy was convinced that we would never figure it out. That only made us more determined. Daddy then told us that if either of us solved Rubik's Cube without cheating, he would pay that person $100. I know he thought it was a safe bet. I've promised outlandish things to my own kids when I knew there was no way I'd ever have to pay up. Lauren still reminds me of the time when she was about 6 and still sucked her thumb. I promised her a big flat screen TV for her room if she stopped that very minute and never sucked her thumb again. Lucky for me, she wasn't ready to quit yet. Living on a farm in 1984, that $100 offer was as big of a deal to me as the big flat screen TV was to Lauren. Lucky for me, Daddy didn't set an immediate deadline. Weeks later (Okay, probably months later), as I was endlessly working my Rubik's Cube, I made a turn on it, and it was solved! I had no idea how I had solved it, but I had. And Daddy came through on his promise. He paid me $100. To this day, I don't know the solution. I know how to get all the corners correct and then I am stuck. I just checked the Internet to see how many possible ways a Rubik's Cube can be arranged. The answer is approximately 43 quintillion (that's 43 with 18 zeros after it). I'm pretty sure that's about how many ways I had it arranged before it fell into place for me. So what does this story have to do with anything? Maybe nothing, but I'm going to try to make a connection anyway.

This year during Lent, our church is doing a series of Wednesday night services that piece together our journey from brokenness to wholeness...from death to life. At each service a piece is added to a puzzle that is displayed. My understanding is that we are each a piece of that puzzle and really that each of our lives is made up of pieces that have to be fit together in order for us become whole. I think each of us at times has met someone or had an experience where we felt like a piece to our life puzzle was just put in place.

Last week's Wednesday night speaker was incredible. Mark is a Jewish man who regularly attends services at our church. It kind of sounds like it should be the beginning of a joke: "A Jewish man walks into a Lutheran church..."  Mark's girlfriend, Cindy has been a member at our church for many years. I've known who both of them are for a few years but really only met them at a graduation party last summer. Cindy and I have talked at church a few times. She knows about my red fox sightings and she told me of signs she had seen when her own dad passed away. I had no idea what Mark was going to speak about, but in hindsight, when he started out by saying that he can't speak about God without crying, I should have pulled out the tissues right away. His story was about being in the depths of depression, losing everything he had, and being on the brink of suicide. And by "on the brink of suicide" I mean he met with his therapist and told him he was going to end his life. While the therapist never told him not to do it, the conversation they had that day saved Mark's life. At some point down the road, Mark saw a tiny speck of light...hope. He called out to God in prayer and asked for a sign to be sent to him. Shortly thereafter, he met Cindy. He later realized that Cindy was (in his words) a sign and an angel from God. Never before in his life had he entertained the idea of dating a non-Jewish person. Cindy was Christian. She invited him to a service at our church. He has been returning for years. He remains Jewish and she remains Christian. A couple of years ago, Mark saw an obituary for the therapist who saved his life. The therapist had committed suicide. Mark was unable to attend the funeral and attempts to contact the family were unsuccessful. Then a week later, he and Cindy were leaving our church together when Mark noticed a prayer request in the bulletin. The request was for a woman named Millie, who had recently lost her nephew. The nephew's name was listed and it was Mark's former therapist, the one who had committed suicide. Cindy had known Millie for years and introduced Mark to her. Mark was able to provide some comfort to Millie's family....comfort in knowing that their family member had saved another life, even though he had taken his own. I know Millie, but never knew any of this story before. Millie's family was with her in church, not far from where we were sitting. Also present were Mark's dad and step-mom. Mark told us that he'd had a strained relationship with his dad, but in the past few years, they had reconciled. He thanked both his dad and step mom for being there for him throughout his struggles.

After the service, I spoke with both Mark and Cindy. I told them how touched I was by their story. I've had my own issues with depression and anxiety. I've had my own experiences with signs from God, but the signs Mark received were so incredible. I truly don't know how anyone could not see it as God's hand at work. It was as though God's hand truly was putting pieces of a puzzle together.

A couple of days later, I had a note from Cindy saying that she and Mark would like to meet with me for a few minutes. I was afraid I'd offended them in some way. She assured me that was not the case. When I met with them, they handed me a little box. Inside was a beautiful collectible red fox figurine. Mark and Cindy told me that there was a story behind it. After Mark's talk at church, they had gone out for a bite to eat with Mark's dad and step mom. They were chatting about the church service and signs from God. Cindy mentioned that I'd seen signs in my red fox sightings. Mark's dad asked if they were good signs and Cindy said yes. He then went on to say that he had a red fox figurine and wondered if they would like to give it to me. Mark told me his dad has hundreds of animal figurines and was surprised he remembered this particular one. I hadn't met Mark's dad, but some how my fox sign stories combined with Mark's talk which included several signs from God, inspired him to offer this collectible figurine to me. I was incredibly touched.

Later that evening, it dawned on me that Cindy's name is Cindy. Okay, that sounds kind of stupid. Obviously I knew her name, but Cindy was also the name of the stillborn baby girl my mom had in 1957. I sent Cindy a note telling her the story about my sister and it turns out that this Cindy was born in 1958. It is also interesting that both of them were named Cindy, not Cynthia. I told Cindy that maybe it's a sign that she should be my honorary sister.

This week's speaker was a woman named Monie. She spoke about the importance of focusing on God, not other things in our lives. The way she explained it was that God designs us as a puzzle, a puzzle where there is one empty space left, one piece missing. Throughout our lives we try to fit different pieces into that empty spot. We might try money, fame, reputation or even seemingly good things like family or friends. But these things never fit perfectly into the empty spot. That is because God is the only piece that really fits. He is the only thing that really completes us and holds us together.

I love jigsaw puzzles and I assemble several every winter. While Monie spoke, I thought of how often when putting together a jigsaw puzzle, I spot what I think is the piece I'm looking for. It looks like the right size, shape and color. But when I try to fit it in place, it doesn't work. I don't give up easily, so I often push a little harder on the piece hoping it will slip into place. But there is only one piece that fits into each spot in the puzzle and try as I might, I can't make the piece fit in the wrong spot. How true is that in our lives as well? How many times do we try the same things over again in the same way we always have, and some how we think we will get a different result? It doesn't work that way. I know I personally have done this with many areas of my life. No matter how hard we try, we can't make the wrong piece fit. The more I think about it, the more I believe that we are each like a jigsaw puzzle. God is the only piece that fits into that God shaped space within us. He is the only thing that completes us.

I also think that our lives are like a Rubik's Cube. We are all held together by one central force: God. Life twists and turns each of us in every imaginable direction. Some days things look pretty good and it seems that everything is starting to fall into place. Then without notice, our lives are turned completely around by a diagnosis, a tragedy, a bad decision, etc. Suddenly, nothing looks familiar to us. We are that green square on the Rubik's Cube that is completely out of place. We are lost in the midst of differently colored squares. Things look frightening from here. Surely nothing will ever be the same. Yet when we are lost in a sea of blue, red and yellow squares, those other colored squares are away from their familiar surroundings as well. They each feel the same way...lost and alone. We can take comfort in each other. Only when we are lost and alone do we learn that everyone is in one way or another. We each have stories, issues and wounds. Each square we touch, each person we meet, has a purpose in our lives. With a twist, we meet someone who understands, is willing to listen, who helps us along this road called life. Sometimes after a while, we feel ourselves getting back to familiar surroundings, the other green squares. But we realize that at any moment, another twist can throw us out of sync again. We are unable to control the twists and turns of life. Yet with each turn our lives are touched by another. With each twist, we touch another's life. Maybe we aren't lost after all. Maybe we are exactly where we are supposed to be. God always remains at the center of us. He holds us all together. We are all connected through him. We are all equal. We are all the same under our colored stickers, under the labels we put on ourselves and each other. God is bigger than any parameters we try to put around Him. He made each of us, regardless of our race, religion, income level, or issues. He is there with us through every one of the 43 quintillion twists and turns of life. He's there when we are in familiar territory and when we feel lost. Just like that internal mechanism of the Rubik's Cube, He is deep within us, binding us to each other and holding us close to Himself.

*When I researched how many possible arrangements there were for a Rubik's Cube, I found that the inventor, Erno Rubik's birthday is July 13. That is also my sister Cindy's birthday. That convinced me to write this post.

Footprints in the Snow

Thinking how often I write about my early morning walks, I realize just how important they are to me. I inherited a love of nature from my dad. Walking so early I rarely see another human. It is just me and nature. Whether I see wildlife or notice the trees swaying in the breeze or watch the sunrise, in these quiet moments, I feel as one with nature.  While these walks are always taken under the pretense of exercise, more often than not, my soul seems to benefit more than my body.  

This morning, there was a light coating of fresh fluffy snow on the ground. Mornings like these are some of my favorites. The fresh snow reveals that I am the first human to walk here today. This feels like a gift to me.  I will be the first to experience the pure beauty of the new snow. As I continue along, I notice mine are not the only footprints in the fresh snow. Rabbits, deer and fox have been here overnight.  I love to see their tracks in the snow. Even though we live in the metro area, we are blessed to have wildlife living nearby. Occasionally I am fortunate enough to see it, either in my backyard or on these pre-dawn walks. Seeing the animal tracks in the snow is a reminder that the animals are always close by, even if I don’t see them.

My mind wanders to thinking how God is always nearby, even when I don’t feel His presence. I think of the Footprints in the Sand poem where two sets of footprints fade into one and the author realizes that when God appeared to have left his side, He was actually carrying him through the rough spots of life. I know that He has carried me on more than one occasion. I think how incredible it would be to see God’s actual footprints in the snow and realize all the places where He had been, even though I couldn’t see or feel Him near.  I wonder what God’s footprints would look like. Every animal has footprints unique to their species. I can identify a few of them. But would I be able to identify God’s footprints if I saw them?

I think about the snow itself. Few things can rival the beauty of a gentle snow fall. Even those who despise winter can’t help but smile as the fluffy flakes gently fall around them. The snow doesn’t discriminate where it lands. Nothing is too lowly or too mighty to be touched by the beauty. The world is transformed into something pure and peaceful. It’s as if a bit of Heaven is falling to earth.

Then it occurs to me that the snow itself is God’s footprint. Everything in nature is. We just need to learn to recognize it as such. Seeing God’s footprints is exercise for my soul. Perhaps this is what draws me out the door early each morning.

A Twinkle in His Eye

I've recently started attending a Wednesday morning bible study at our church. It's a small group of people who meet with one of the pastors each week to discuss the bible verses which will be used in the coming weekend's services. This week one of the readings was Jeremiah 1:4-10. It is about Jeremiah being called by God to be a prophet when he was just a young boy. Jeremiah doubts that he can do what God wants him to do. But God basically tells him that He has known Jeremiah before he was even born and will provide him what he needs to do the job.

When I read this, I thought of myself recently being asked to be on the church council. When I initially received the call about it, I wondered why they were asking me. Yes, I go to church and worship there. I love our church and the people there. But I know nothing about "running" a church. I wondered aloud if others had already said "no" to being on council and if perhaps I was a 2nd, 3rd, 12th or 274th choice. I was assured that my name was brought up and well received by the nominating committee and that I was in fact first on the list to be asked. My next question was about who was on the nominating committee. I did know several of the people, but I still didn't understand why they thought I'd be a good fit for council. I met with one of our pastors and asked if he thought I would be an asset to the council. And I told him to be brutally honest in his answer. He said that yes, he thought I would. But he did remind me that I'd told him previously that I prefer to "stay in the background". Then he also said that maybe it would be an opportunity for growth for me and maybe I'd discover it was something I was good at and liked. Quite a lot for me to think and pray about. I did both. It is very true that I like to stay in the background. I know much of it is self doubt on my part. But I felt God tell me to take a chance and that He'd get me through it. So I said, "Yes". Then I was asked to be the council secretary this year. Yikes! This meant I'd have to pay attention in meetings and take notes and write up minutes. (Not that I didn't plan to do the first two of those three, but it was the third one that scared me.) I have been a stay at home mom for the last 15 years. I can make up a pretty good grocery list, but meeting minutes I wasn't so sure about. I kept hearing my high school shorthand teacher's favorite saying over and over: "A good secretary always carries two pens." For the record, I haven't used shorthand since high school and I wasn't even very proficient at it back then. But surely, if God was going to get me through being on council, He could probably get me through being secretary too. So I said, "Yes."

Now back to the reading from Jeremiah. Something in it really struck me: "Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you, before you were born I set you apart." Wow! God knew me before I was born, before I was even conceived. And He had plans for me then. It made me think of when Mother used to say, "That was back when you were just a twinkle in Daddy's eye." Even though all she meant by that was that something had happened long before I was even born, to me it always meant more. Hearing that I used to be a twinkle in Daddy's eye made me think I'd been thought about and wanted before I was born. As I grew up and got married and we struggled to have children, I knew how much that "twinkle" held. It held the hope of having a baby. It held the dreams of raising a child and teaching it and watching it grow. Now, years later, as a mom of three I know that "twinkle"holds even more. It holds the amazement of seeing your baby for the first time, the joy of seeing your child smile, laugh, walk and say "I love you". The "twinkle" also holds tears for the things you can't fix for your child. It holds the heartbreak of seeing your child struggle with something, perceived imperfections they see in themselves. But mostly, in fact always, that twinkle holds love. Pure and simple love.

God knew me and all my strengths and all my imperfections before I was born or even conceived (or in other words, back when I was just a twinkle in His eye.) And He loved me. He knew the joys I'd have and the struggles I'd face. And He loved me. He knew about every scraped knee I'd ever have. He knew that when I loved it would be with my whole heart. He knew the self doubts and anxieties I'd struggle with in my life. And He loved me. This amazing God had a plan for me before I was "me". He's watched me on my path of life, straying off now and then from His planned route for me. And He loves me. He continues to walk beside me every step of the way and He will continue to love me. Pure and simple love.

I always felt special when I was told I used to be just a twinkle in Daddy's eye. Imagine what abundant joy I feel in hearing that I was also a twinkle in God's eye!

Fading

Like an old photo

The edges start to fade

What once was vivid

In my mind

Begins to lose its shape

I tighten my hold

On the memories

But the edges wrinkle and rip

I must lighten my grip

Allow time to go on

Or the image

Will be lost forever

More treasured

Are yesterday’s fading photos

Brought out to view

From time to time

Than those

Crumpled and ruined

In our hands

When we refuse

To set them down

Fly Away Angels

This time of the year, it's still dark when I set out on my early morning walks. A few days ago, it was quite breezy when I stepped outside. A slight crescent moon offered just enough light to see numerous puffy white clouds flying across the sky to the east. Behind them the sky was quickly clearing. It was easy to imagine they were angels hurrying back to Heaven before daybreak.

Fly Away Angels

Fly away angels

Ride on the breeze

Get back to Heaven

Before you are seen

Your night watch is over

Dawn will soon break

Your loved ones slumbering

Soon will awake

You kept guard over them

As they rested last night

Longing to reach out

And hug them all tight

A smile on their lips

As you filled their dreams

Your presence was felt

Or so it would seem

It’s easy to tarry too long

At this job that you love

And not heed the call

To get back to Heaven above

Fly away angels

Ride on the breeze

Get back to Heaven

Before you are seen

Medicine

I've been feeling a little under the weather the last couple of days. It's nothing serious. I'm just achy and tired with a slight sore throat and occasional low grade fever. Lots of sleep, liquids and Advil will have me better soon. Of course as I'm spending time laying around, I can't help but think back to being sick when I was a kid.

Mother had a "remedy" for us when we had a bad cough or croup:  melted butter. Honest, that is what she would give us. A couple of my older sisters have told me that would pretend their coughs were worse than they were just to get this "medicine". I, on the other hand, would try to convince Mother that my cough wasn't as bad as it was so that I wouldn't have to drink the "medicine".  It was usually in the middle of the night that I'd wake up coughing. Mother would tell me that a little melted butter would help. Despite my protests, soon I'd be sitting at the kitchen table while Mother prepared my midnight snack. She had a small little pan that no longer even had a handle that she would use to melt the butter on the stove. Then I'd be given a couple of teaspoons full to swallow. That awful taste of pure melted butter in the middle of the night is still as vivid as if it were yesterday. I will never understand how my siblings thought it tasted good. To this day, I'm not much of a butter user.

Unfortunately, sometimes melted butter didn't cure the illness and we'd end up with real medicine prescribed by the doctor. Luckily, this didn't happen to me often, but the memory of liquid penicillin is forever etched in my mind. I honestly do not remember what ailment I needed it for, but I can still see that bottle of pink medicine inside the refrigerator when I was about 4 years old. If I ever considered running away from home when I was a kid, it would have been then. It's been over 40 years since I took that nasty medicine and yet the horrible taste lingers in the back of my mind like a bad nightmare. I tried everything to not have to take it. I'd hide or pretend to be asleep. I'd claim that I felt better. Still Mother would  make me take it. It may have only been a teaspoon at a time, but it seemed like a gallon. I know I fussed and whined and cried and none of it did any good. I still had to take the medicine. Then, apparently I came up with a plan. I don't remember this, but have been told the story many times. Considering I was only 4 at the time, I think I was very clever. I told Mother that I could take the medicine but I had to be alone. No doubt having everyone watch me take the medicine was what made it so difficult for me. So Mother agreed. She gave me the medicine in a little cup and put me in the laundry room, which was right next to the kitchen. Everything was going just as I planned, until my snoopy older sister, Jo, had to peak in the door from the kitchen, just as I was pouring the penicillin down the sink. I should mention that not only was she snoopy, but she was a tattle tale as well! Needless to say, I was never allowed to take my medicine alone again. Some how I survived taking the rest of that medicine. And maybe even more surprising, Jo and I are pretty close.

Fast forward to a few years ago and my darling daughter Lauren needed a prescription. Unable to swallow pills yet, she was given liquid medicine. One guess who got to try to get her to take it! Yes, it was me. And guess what? She is her Mother's daughter. Surely I never carried on the way she did. One would have thought I was torturing her by making her take her medicine. It's a wonder social services didn't come to the door since I was apparently abusing her. I swear those were the longest 10 days of my life. After getting Lauren out the door to school after finally getting her to take her medicine one of those days, I picked up the phone and called my mom. When she answered, I immediately apologized for my behavior from all those years ago. I am certain Mother was laughing more on the inside than she let on during our phone conversation.

In the spring of 2011, Lauren had strep throat. When the doctor told us, Lauren was hysterical. The doctor told her she had three options: pills, liquid or a shot. Lauren immediately chose the shot! Good choice. Of course she screamed so loud when they gave her the shot that the entire clinic heard her, but at least I didn't have to fight her for 10 days to take her medicine. If she'd chosen the liquid, I would have asked for a shot for myself...tequila!

Feeling a little under the weather like I do, I wish I could pick up the phone and call Mother. Just hearing her voice would be medicine to my soul.

Popcorn Balls

After the kids left for school this morning, I did a quick clean up of the house. Since they'll be home for the next 10 days on Christmas break, I wanted the satisfaction of knowing the house was at least clean at the beginning of those ten days. When I got to Lauren's room, there was a bowl of mostly eaten popcorn from last night. There was also an almost empty mug of hot chocolate. As I picked up the bowl and mug, the scent of popcorn and sweetness wafted up and for a minute I was 10 years old again and it was Christmas Eve morning and we were making popcorn balls.

Christmas Eve morning there was always a bustle of activity in the farm house. With eight kids in the house, it was rare to ever have a quiet moment. But on Christmas Eve morning, it was busier and crazier than any ever. While Christmas cookies had been made ahead of time, fudge, divinity and popcorn balls were always made at this time. Mother would cook the fudge and it seemed to me that she was never very pleased with the way it turned out. Linda was in charge of the divinity. From what I remember, most of us kids pitched in to make popcorn balls. First we would pop incredible amounts of popcorn and put it into a huge bowl. Then we'd cook the sticky syrup according to the Betty Crocker Cookbook. We would argue over what color the popcorn balls should be every year. Eventually we'd agree and food coloring was added to the syrup. The hot syrup was then poured over the popcorn and one of my older siblings would stir it. When it was sufficiently mixed, we would all dip our hands into a bowl of very cold water and then grab some of the hot gooey popcorn and form it into balls. We'd let the popcorn balls cool on waxed paper, eagerly waiting to be able to eat that sweet and salty treat.

After the treats were made, the kids would run upstairs and start bringing down presents we'd had hidden away. Now the presents were placed under the Christmas tree while Mother would begin preparing food for Christmas Day. The excitement of Christmas was in full swing!

On Christmas Eve, evening chores were always started early. The children's Christmas program was that night and we had to get to church early. We girls would each wear a new dress that Mother sewed for us for the program each year. Church was always completely full on this night. The children would march down the long aisle singing "Come Hither Ye Children" to open the service. We would sit in several of the front pews of the church. After all the children were seated, the clanking of metal folding chairs could be heard as more seating was made available in the church aisles. Grade by grade, we would then tell the story of Jesus birth. The last song of the night was always Glory to God. I can still remember every word of the song and feel the excitement of everyone in the church as we all sang at the top of our lungs.

Once the Christmas program was over, all the children would receive a brown paper bag with an apple, an orange, a couple hand fulls of peanuts and hard candy. Now it's hard to believe how much we loved those simple goodie bags. Once we got back to the farm, it was time to open Christmas presents.

I really don't remember many of the gifts I got back then. But there were a couple of things we could be sure of. Mother always spent $20 on each of us. She would save her money up from each milk check (or in later years social security checks). And she wanted to spend exactly the same on each of us. I mean down to the last penny exact! Each of us would also receive an envelope from Daddy with $10 in it. When Uncle Dale lived with us, we each received an envelope with $5 from him. The first Christmas after Daddy died, Mother gave us each an envelope that said Merry Christmas from Heaven and had the usual $10 from Daddy in it. She also included a beautiful poem she had received about how he was spending Christmas in Heaven with Jesus. It was very touching. Last year, we each had an envelope from Mother (courtesy of my sister Jo). Mother had been saving up money for Christmas that year as she had every year. She died about half way through the year, so we each received the $10 that she had saved up for each of us. Again, it was very touching. After opening gifts, we always would have dried beef and cheese sandwiches, cookies, pumpkin bread, cinnamon rolls and maybe even a popcorn ball.

This will be our second Christmas without Mother and our fourth without Daddy.  We continue to gather on Christmas Eve as we always have. We still open presents when everyone arrives and we still eat dried beef sandwiches and all the yummy treats. Except I can't remember the last time we had popcorn balls. There is an emptiness without Mother and Daddy there to celebrate with us, but I know they are celebrating in Heaven and that makes it all okay.

It's amazing what memories a simple whiff of popcorn and sweetness can bring to mind.

You Are Still Here

You are in the pink sunrise

And my children’s laughs

In the cookies baked

And presents wrapped

In the phrases I say

In the home that I make

In the prayers that I pray

Every morning I wake

In my boy’s love of baking

In the naps that I need

In my girls’ love of books

And in the speed with which they read

In Lauren’s love of visiting

In Dani’s need to “mother”

And in the way Evan imitates

Your characteristic shudder

In the stillness alone

Where I hear your advice

And your reminder

That these are the best years of my life

In the dutchman’s breeches of spring

And the dandelions that follow

In the harvest of fall

And in cold winter’s hollow

When God called you home

Eternity to see

I whispered that you would

Always remain part of me

Those words that I spoke

When you had to leave

Were more true than I knew

Truer than I ever believed

You heard my first cry

I saw your last breath

Our connection can’t be broken

Not even by death

Although now in Heaven

You are never far away

I see you and hear you

Hundreds of times every day

In the air that I breathe

I can still feel your love

And I know you’re sending hugs

From Heaven above

You were a part of me

From my very start

Now you live on forever

Inside of my heart