Rocky Mountain National Park, 2016

Like a vintage roll of film

Let's not even talk about the fact that these photos were taken two months ago.  Or the fact that I haven't written in over a year.  But like a vintage roll of film, the one that you lost in the bottom of your 1980s carry-on bag, I stumbled across our 2016 summer vacation pictures and have to share them before they are lost.

This is the first summer that we vacationed for a full 14 days.  Most summers we cram too much into 7 days.  This year we took a full two weeks and flew to Omaha, Nebraska.  Yes Omaha.

There we grabbed the only not-booked RV in the Midwest (not kidding) and set off for Colorado.

Northeast Colorado feels like an old Western.  We spent two days in Sterling, Colorado.  Home of, ... well, ... nothing.   About an hour west we found the Pawnee National Grasslands.  Every road in the grasslands is a minimum maintenance road and most recommendations were to travel there by Jeep or 4 wheeler.  Nope.  We traveled there by rented RV.

PS.  Don't ever buy a rental RV.

Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.” 

- Mark 6:31

In Awesome Wonder

Spearfish Falls, Spearfish, South Dakota, August, 2015

This is me.

Dylan told me recently that I am "a really good starter but not a very good finisher".  Hmmm.  THIS from the child who can not remember to put deodorant on after a shower (speaking of not finishing well).  But honestly, he's right.  How do you think he knew?  Was it the paint that was purchased and has been sitting by the front door all summer?  Is it the fabric and crafting supplies that I purchased after a Pinterest marathon that are now piling up in the storage room?  Is it fact that I was a 20th year college Senior this past year (not an exaggeration)?

The fact is that it could be any one of those things.  Or more likely it is something that he has simply witnessed that I am unconscious to.  

But it's ok.  It has taken me a long time to learn who I am and to understand who I am not:

I am motivated by appreciation and significance.  

I'm an introvert who can act well enough to occasionally play the role of an extrovert.

I'm a dreamer.  

I am more resourceful than artistic. 

I am scarred by the things I have seen. 

I am creative and emotional.  

I am a risk-taker and a spender.

I'm selfish about sleep, the last dessert and massages.  

I hate talking on the phone.

I've always wanted to be a stay-at-home Mom but I don't have the patience or stamina.  

I want to travel everywhere except Canada.

I have an irrational and sometimes paralyzing fear of suicide affecting my family. 

I don't ever want my kids to move away.

I'm not very good at maintaining friendships.

I am a Christian who tries to live a Godly life but every day falls short of the glory.  Every day.

... and yes,  I'm a really good starter and not a very good finisher.  

Sir Isaac Newton meets God

Nothing in this life is static.  I'm not talking about the whole earth spinning on it's access thing or the earth moving around the sun.  I'm not even talking about how many Anoka County ambulances are set into motion when one truck takes a call in Blaine. I'm talking more about a twist on Sir Isaac Newton's third law of physics.  It's a simple equation of F1= -F2.  My sixth grader learned this in science.  I've personally learned this when I tried to ride a skateboard.  Once.  Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.  But here's the twist.  Newton never researched how this applies to our personal life, interactions and relationships. 

Think about your garden.  A lot of effort goes into it every spring.  The ground is tilled and the soil is hopefully dark and filled with moisture and nutrients.  The seeds are chosen and planted with much thought and care.  And then the wait.  Doing nothing. Watching.  And then, after doing nothing, there might be a little peek of green that pokes through the surface.  Is it a sprout or a weed?  Oh, it's a weed.  Just leave it.  Do nothing.  Until, not so suddenly, after weeks of doing nothing (which is an action by the way), the entire garden is covered with weeds (the reaction) and my harvest will certainly be affected.

Now think about your marriage.  In the beginning, a lot of action is taken to nurture your relationship.  We all know this.  Leaving little notes, wearing that favorite dress when you'd really prefer yoga pants, spending time together just talking (even when there is housework to be done).  Nurturing your partner and your union is hard work.  I'm not proud of the fact that over the years I sometimes chose to do nothing.  Just leave it.  Do nothing.  And then not so suddenly, after weeks (months) of doing nothing, my marriage was suffering.  We found ourselves trying to dig out of the weeds that had begun to overgrow the harvest. 

I consider then, how Newton's Law applies to my spiritual relationships as well.  You see, there is no standing still.  We are all either nurturing our faith or slowly allowing the weeds to smother us.  If we are not moving closer to God we are moving away from Him. 



Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” ~Matthew 28:19–20.

And so, yesterday was like a scene out of biblical history.  Just as the disciple John would baptize crowds of Christ followers, in 2014 we sat on a hill overlooking a beautiful body of water as witness to this profound event.  Our family was baptized together.  Biblically, it is an act of obedience.     Spiritually, it is my action.  It is my forward motion.  It is my understanding that moving further from God is not an option and thus I must be moving closer.  F1= -F2

 

One Lord, one faith, one baptism ~Ephesians 4:5

 

Staycation Day 1

06/30/2014
   
For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. ~ Psalm 139:13

God's Not Helping Me

Last Wednesday, after dragging himself home from another baseball defeat, Dylan sorrowfully announce that "God is not helping me win".  You see, this is Dylan's very first year playing organized baseball and their team is,... how can I put this nicely?... Ummmm.  Not good.  They haven't won a game yet this year and keeping this team of 12 year olds motivated is a full time job.  I was watching the coach at the last game and thought that he must be exhausted.  

Winning is fun.  No doubt about it.  But my suggestion is that we might find God's purpose in this event without focusing on the winning.  We spoke about sportsmanship.  God uses our everyday adventures to help us learn life lessons.  
  
Do not rejoice when your enemy falls, and let not your heart be glad when he stumbles, lest the Lord see it and be displeased, and turn away his anger from him. ~ Proverbs 24: 17-18

And baseball is a great way to understand the need to learn and follow the rules of the game.  Not all of life is a sporting event, but all of live has rules; written and unwritten. 

An athlete is not crowned unless he competes according to the rules. ~ 2 Timothy 2:5
   
And lastly, probably the reason that I most encouraged Dylan to participate in ANY sport this summer, is that God encourages our socialization and fellowship.

Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing. ~ 1 Thessalonians 5:11

Don't give up Dylan boy.  Altough it seems like winning is the goal, the reward is in the teachable moments you're living every day. 

PS.   Please please please let them win just ONE game!!!

I Have An Announcement.

It's a rainy Saturday morning.  The dogs are laying on top of the new-ish furniture.  Again.  The laundry is piling up in my bathroom.  Again.  Our bedrooms are a disaster of Lego remnants, knick-knacks that always need dusting and clothes.  I hate the clothes.   They sit too long on the dresser until I rummage around them to find something and eventually I can't tell if it's been worn or is still clean. 

So I walked down to the kitchen with an announcement. 
"I have an announcement.  I am officially going through a phase".
My husband looks at me and sits silently, blinking, expressionless, as he picked up his coffee cup.  I know he's bracing himself.  I've gone through phases before.  I smile.
"I don't hear any groans", I say. 
He replies, "Oh, I'm thinking it.  ... I'm waiting." 

Anne pipes in.  "Are you going to starting dressing like a teenager?"
Ha.  Baby, I've been through that phase about a decade ago.  I'm over that.  Like a bad hairstyle in the eighties...  it was not good. 

"I have decided that I am purging.  I'm downsizing.  I'm getting rid of everything I don't truly need."
And instantly I see the glimmer, just a passing shadow, of panic (or was it relief) on my husband's face.  He knows that my purging phase will soon be in direct conflict with his hoarder phase.  Wait.  No.  He's a hoarder.  No phase involved. 

It all started from this silly Facebook posting.  15 Reasons Couples Should Vacation Instead of Buy Stuff.  But it has me thinking.  I want memories with my children, and activities and adventures.  I care about stuff, but I don't want to.  And I am in control of my choices.  I can decide what's important.  Because it's true.  Where you spend your money is an illustration of your priorities.

So... garage sale, yard sale, donations.  It's going.  Don't look for me at Target.  Don't look for me at a high class boutique.  Look for me at a waterfall, on a trail, in the ocean, watching a sunset or on an airplane.  It's time to stop trudging through the stuff that prevents us from making memories and time to start slow dancing on a sandy beach somewhere. 

I hope its not really a phase.  I hope its a lifestyle change. Wish me luck.

  
And he said to them, “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not exist in the abundance of his possessions.” ~ Luke 12:15

Top ten reasons to love being the biggest girl in school

My girlie is the biggest girl in her class.  I think she's the biggest girl (or boy) in the school.
We made a list of the top ten awesome parts of being the biggest.

10.  When the teacher needs to reach something high, she asks you

9.  You can make the smaller kids bounce really high on the trampoline.

8.  You can double your wardrobe by wearing your Mom's clothes too (the stuff that's not ugly).

7.  You can see over everyone else in the lunchroom (and everywhere).

6.  Your Mom can find you easy on the playground. 

5.  You can carry your friends on your back when they get tired of walking. 

4.  You easily go over the hurdles at track and field day.

3.  You get a big person bed sooner than kids still sleeping in kid beds.

2.  Your friends always recognize you right away (out of school).



and the number one awesome reason for being the biggest kid in school is:

1.  You can ride all the rides at the amusement park!

I am a snoop.

 

And kind of a control-freak.  I know this won't surprise many of you; my sister, my parents and maybe some ex-boyfriends.

The end of the school year drives my snoop into high gear.  I love it when the backpacks come home, heavier than any child should carry, filled to the top with little insights into their life over the past year.  I can't wait to dig in.  You see, sometime around age 5, the kids go off to Kindergarten.  And with that, I've lost control over so much of their lives.  Suddenly they are spending more time with their teachers and friends than they are with me.  My control freak kicks into high gear.  Their day is influenced more and more by others and less and less by me.  Truth is, I hate that.  But short of quitting my job, homeschooling them and turning them into social outcasts, I don't see much of an option.  I think this is the life of a parent. 

The evidence of my snooping this year:



I didn't know she could draw this well.  I think it's crayon and water color.

 

 

 

I don't know what white lightening means.  I but I love seeing how he views himself.  

   

Confessions Of A Lying Parent

It's nearing the end of the school year and it's been a challenging one for Dylan.   He recently told me how happy he was that summer vacations was coming.  He recounted his struggles with a bully, with other students talking about pornography and about the relentless peer pressure that sixth grade brings. He said he was worried that next year would bring more of the same. And as a parent, I wanted his fears to be relieved so I told him, "Oh, no worries. Sixth grade is the hardest one. It only gets easier from here on out".  He seemed slightly relieved and, true to typical Minnesota non-confrontational personality,  I let it go.  Let's move on.  Let's do something fun.  Let's just forget about it. 

And so we did.  We made plans for our first urban waterfall quest.

Our urban trek was unique in that we brought a guide.  We don't usually do that.  It's not that no one else COULD go with us, but it's not just anyone whom I allow to see my hiking skills in action (or my pale legs, or my questionable balance, or my lack of physical conditioning).   On this day we were joined by my friend, co-worker and University of St. Thomas alumni, Brian Nagel.  You see, Brian knew there were "hidden falls" near the St. Thomas campus.  He told me about these several months ago.  Since then I had looked for the hidden falls on the Google machine, to no avail.  I needed a guide and Brain agreed to join us.

Some of you also call Brian your friend.  May of you know him.  Even more of you know OF him.  Brain is an employee and a friend.  He was doing what paramedics do on the early morning of January 18th when the ambulance he was working in suffered a horrific crash on a rural road. 

For nearly a week he was unresponsive, had a ventilator breathing for him, and made no purposeful movement.  His family was gracious enough to let me visit him in those first critical days and I was so honored to have an opportunity to pray over him.

Yet, despite those critical head injuries, Brian's recovery has been nothing short of amazing (he hates when we use the work "miracle).  Four months later he is standing upright (a miracle; sorry Brian), speaking (a miracle), remembering trails he hadn't been on in years (a miracle) and teaching my husband about the physiology of cardiogenic shock (ummmm....sorry.... miracle only goes so far).  And in our conversations after the hiking, I asked Brian what good will come out of his horrifying experience.  How will this tragedy, that has stolen over four months of his normal life, reap goodness?  Without hesitation Brain explained that the good has already emerged.  He counted off the blessing that he is reaping today despite and because of his suffering.  And the end is not here.  There is more good to come.  

So today I reflect on that earlier conversation with Dylan.  I told him that this year was the worst of it and  that when he gets past this year everything will be better. I told him that easier days lie ahead.  But that was a lie.  I regret saying it.  The fact is, it doesn't get easier from here on out, it gets harder.  There will be heartbreak.  There might be illness or injury.  There will be trials that we can't even imagine.  There will undoubtedly be tears and desperation.  My boy will learn this.  My hope is that when these days happen he will allow me to help him see through the haze of darkness and pray over him as well. 

To Brian, thank you for being a living illustration that our circumstances do not define us but shape us and mold us.  And to my child, have no fear, my Dylan boy, remember that the trials today form you, like a pot of clay, into the man you will become.  And you will be a great one. 

 We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, ⁴ and endurance produces character, and character produces hope.  (Romans 5:3-4). 

SEDATE ME!

The ice that used to cover Lake Superior is almost gone.  It is slowly being pushed by the wind to the shoreline and into the harbor.

Our trip from Duluth to Gooseberry Falls took longer than expected as we stopped often to watch the newly created shoreline between the ice and the open water.

Gooseberry Falls has never been high on our list of must-see waterfalls.  Not becaause they're not beautiful but because they're so close to the roadway that they usually have large crowds.  As I expected, the hiking trail was paved and even wheelchair accessible.  It was one of our more challenging hikes though because Duluth still has snow that has turned to slush.  And that slush, after bright sunlight and hours of foot traffic had turned to ice.  We encountered our first adventure of ice hiking.

All "ice hiking" means to my son is adventure.  To me it means constant fear and nearly uncontrollable anxiety that screams 'SEDATE ME'.  I have no idea how I will tame my son's love of free-climbing.  This trip was not the trip to be climbing on the cliffs.  The rocks were slippery and one wrong step would have landed him directly into the rushing falls.  My internal stress rises even as a write this. 



Parental Compromise.



See the look on the boy's face?  This is the look of "see, Dad let me climb down here by the water".

I've tried to convince him to take rock-climbing classes thinking that they will offer safety lessons. Ya, ummm... no go yet.  On this day I resorted to the age old parental tactic of "you can climb either here or there but not over there".  I knew that forbidding climbing would lead to attitude, disobedience, arguing and perhaps losing the battle.  And with the current conditions, losing the battle was not an option. 

"Dylan, other people think I'm a bad parent because I let you go so close to the water".
"Oh, Mom.  You're not a bad Mom.  I'm just an adventurous boy!', he replies with a smile as he runs off to the car. 

Great. 

Not of my flesh...

He was not born of my flesh.
I did not hold him in his first days.
I am often spared his stumbles and heart-break
and I savor the experience when I witness his triumphs.

I have been Austin's step-mom for 5/6 of his life.  He is not an autistic child; he is a child with autism.  I remember the challenges of his first years, searching for the right diagnosis.  We were introduced to more acronyms than any family should.  And I remember crying in Daniel's arms when the diagnosis was confirmed by many.  You see, I'm a health care practitioner.  I rely on the blood test, the physical exam and the objective findings.  Autism is not like that.  Once you've met one autistic child you've met just one autistic child.

My favorite memory of Austin was when he was seven years old.  Dylan had just been born and Austin was with us for the weekend.  He had previously been fairly unconcerned about this new baby brother.  But on this night, Austin took a keen interest.  He carried him up the stairs and wanted to do all the bathing for baby Dylan.  He diapered him, clothed him and brought him back down the stairs to feed him the bottle.  I was a nervous wreck  And then, as quickly as the interest appeared, the next day it was gone.  It was a fleeting moment of the sibling attachment that parents so long for.  

There are many great memories and today I am so proud of the adult that he has become.  He is the captain of Stillwater High School's adapted soccer team.  Last year he was voted by his team as the most valuable player. The self-confidence I saw in him this weekend warmed my soul.  The crowds would cheer when he scored a goal and I could see his expression change.  He wouldn't jump up and down and celebrate.  In fact, I don't think he even smiled.  But I saw his posture change as he walked to the other side of the field.  I saw something different in his walk. I saw a different look on his face.  And as he looked up again, inside this child with autism, I saw his pride.

Accomplished

The High Falls

                                                                                                                    No one will ever say that I am a great housekeeper. No one will ever say that I am a great chef. We left the house in a complete state of disaster. But it was a beautiful weekend and the thought of forfeiting it to housework was dreadful. Instead, we packed our bags in 10 minutes flat, booked a hotel room while driving and headed north to Duluth. By 8 pm Saturday night we were pulling up to the last hotel room available in the city.  A short twelve hours later we were on the trail to the High Falls of Tettagouche State Park. These falls are 80 ft. tall and sit about 3/4 of a mile off a pretty challenging hike.

We took the dogs this time.  Not something I'd suggest doing again. 

Rosie (the Bulldog) runs so close to the ground that her underbelly is raw from sticks and rocks and grasses.

Lily (the Lab) is an old lady.  She will be stiff for several days after the rough terrain.

All summer long I had been trying to figure out how we were going to get to the High Falls.  It was too long of a drive to do it all in one day. None of the campgrounds in the area had the camper cabins that seemed like a perfect mix of camping and hotel room.  No weekends seemed to line up for a mini vacation.  I had resigned myself to the idea that we probably weren't going to make it.  So as we sat on the rocks, the deafening sound of the water rushing in the background, I actually sighed, "THIS is the one I really wanted to see."

 Another mile of hiking brought us to Twin Falls.  As the name suggests, this is actually one waterfall that drops into a small but deep pool.  The water then falls over the second drop into a large lagoon.  We spent a long time here.  Dylan is fearless when climbing the rocks along the bluffs.  In a second he is gone and the roaring water makes it impossible to call out for him; he won't hear you.  This is my boy who hates amusement parks and thrill rides.  If we go to a county fair, he will use all of his money on the food and games.  He will literally fight for his life if you try to manipulate him into going on a roller-coaster.  Yet when it comes to rock-climbing, he will tip-toe on the bluff, jump from rock to rock and pause only briefly as he crawls just millimeters away from falling to his death.  I must get that boy a helmet.  

As we drive back into town, its just about to get dark.  We're tired.  The car is now a disaster and I'm a little crabby just thinking about all the work we've left behind. Yet I feel a little bit of accomplishment as well.  I'm not always as spontaneous as I wish.  I love the idea of surprise trips to an unknown destination or a fantasy of just jumping on a plane to anywhere.  But the fact is that every day life just becomes a priority.  I hate that. Today is different though. On this day I feel accomplished in our twenty four hours of impromptu togetherness.  On this day I feel accomplished in making memories that our children will remember.  On this day I feel accomplished in truly understanding what it means when people say "do it today because tomorrow is never guaranteed".  On this day I feel accomplished ... even if I do have to rewash all the laundry in the washer.

On the glorious splendor of your majesty, and on your wondrous works, I will meditate. 
~ Psalms 145:5