forum column (march 09): flood flight

Parenting Perspectives: Stay or go: A mother’s perspective on Valley flooding

http://www.inforum.com/event/article/id/235848/

By: Roxane B. Salonen, INFORUM

This past Friday morning the kids and I threw a couple of days’ worth of clothes into the minivan and fled our beloved but flood-ravished community.

I’d grappled all week with whether we should stay or go. What would be the prudent move for a mother of five?

Then Red River crest predictions spiked to an all-time – a shocking – high and my mother-hen instincts to gather the chicks and run for cover took over. While the city considered evacuation possibilities, I devised my own exit plan.

Thus ended an almost weeklong interior battle over whether I should be doing more to help save the city. Though I did venture out to assist, an even stronger calling to be near my children prompted a U-turn. While others worked the trenches sandbagging, I stayed home, shoring up my kids’ emotions.

The energy I’ve expended fielding questions from my children in recent days brought to mind the film, “Life Is Beautiful,” in which a father and his young son are sent to a Nazi death camp. To protect his child from the harsh realities ahead, the father makes a game of the trip, tricking the child into thinking the journey is part of a wonderful adventure.

In between listening to flood updates the past few days, I tried valiantly to temper the stress rising steadily through my body like river levels, intent on fostering normalcy amidst chaos.

When my 6-year-old learned we’d be staying with a friend who has four boys – and lots of boy toys – he beamed. His 3-year-old brother began singing, “We’re going on a trip!” I bent down to hug him, feeling grateful life could be so simple for at least some of us.

The older ones were more reflective. My 8-year-old followed me around as I tended to necessary housework, inquiring about some of – though not all – the details. My oldest insisted I become a prophet and tell him our chances of getting flooded out. “I don’t know” didn’t do, but it was all I had.

And my 11-year-old proved she’s making a quick exit through childhood when admitting she used to think flooding would be fun. “Now I know it’s not just about having lots of water around, and it’s not fun at all.”

I’m proud of the way my kids graciously helped me move items from the bottom to top floor of our home and packed their bags promptly upon request.

And this morning, after a somewhat harried but (thankfully) uneventful departure, we arrived at the safe-haven home of my friend. “I’ve got lots of comfort food,” she said, opening her arms to me. “Make yourself at home.”

In that moment, the burden inherent in being a mother in crisis began to lift. I could feel the letdown of my mother guard in the company of another who’d once been in my place.

And I realized that when it comes to saving a city, everyone does his or her part. In bringing my children to safety, I’d helped to do mine.
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Roxane B. Salonen works as a freelance writer and children’s author in Fargo, where she and husband Troy are parents to five children. She also has a blog, www.areavoices.com/peacegarden

fargo flood 09: a view from the outside 5 (update from the trenches)

Today, the snow started coming down lightly here in Baxter, and the air temperature dropped a few degrees. The snow has stopped for now, and the kids are outside playing on the tire swing out back. We're planning on night two of grilling with Mary's new grill. But by tomorrow, an outdoor cooking session is likely to be impossible again. Winter does not want to go quietly. In fact, it's likely a true spring will be fairly nonexistent.

It sounds like most of the hard-working people back in Fargo-Moorhead are viewing the oncoming blizzard as "the last big test" in terms of flooding hardship. We're looking at a return by Thursday if the weather looks favorable. The last thing we want to do is risk icy roads on the way back to our flooded city.

This morning, Mary and I ventured out for more groceries. Food doesn't last long in a house filled with eleven people, but we're fairly proud of ourselves for having stretched it as long as we have. After feeding the kids lunch afterwards, we went to the Y. I had no problem using my FM Y card to gain entrance. It was nice to feel part of someone's routine, even if not our own, exactly. I can tell the kids are starting to get restless, though, especially with Mary's boys back in school. Sibling rivalry seems to be erupting more today.

One of my Fargo friends who remains in the trenches has provided another update (see below). Thanks for continuing to keep all the weary people in the Red River Valley in your prayers. I'll also include a link to a UTube video flood tribute another Fargo friend sent (produced by a church friend of hers).

Peace to you always,

Peace Garden Mama

****************************************************************************

Good evening, everyone........

Well, things are looking good at the moment. The water that is up on the dike has been frozen all day, and minor seepage along all of the miles in our subdivision. We can see by the ice lines on the trees that the water level has dropped. It'll be really tricky when the weather warms, things start to melt, and see how mushy the dikes become. The overland water went into the coulee/drain 27 (behind our house) quite a ways back (not sure exactly how far), and it crossed interstate and is headed into the Sheyenne River, which is awesome, because then it's headed in a flood controlled drainage system. It should cause little damage to anyone with that route. What a great thing!

R and I went to Mass this morning, and afterwards we drove down interstate 29 a bit and the water is running, fast paced, across some of the rural roads and it is dangerous out there. Then we had a quiet afternoon, manning pumps, looking at the dikes, visiting with neighbors.

The massive clay dike on 32 street is daunting. There is one exit out of our subdivision now, and it is a dirt ramp over this massive clay wall. The clay makes the roads very slick and the mud is a mixture of clay and dirt, sticks to everything, is slippery and a mess. We are trying to watch water restrictions, so haven't kept up much with laundry. I think at the end I'd like to just burn these muddy, dirty clothes and that'd be it.

I saw E today and she is so happy at her temporary home. K, the mom watching her, said that they are having so much fun that all the kids on the street want to come over and play. So, I think E will come through this unscathed. We talk to H a few times a day, and she is at a place about 20 miles north of Fargo. She's having fun out 4-wheeling and goofing off.

For dinner tonight, some of the men said they were hungry for "real food" and asked R to cook. So, he made a pork tenderloin meal with side dishes and that was nice. We have not wanted for any food, but barbecues are losing their excitement. I laughed, because they did not ask me to cook, they knew who to come to!

I'm getting anxious for all us to be together again, but this is no place, yet, for children. It is calm, yet extremely dangerous and the situation could change at any moment. Our suitcases are packed, in our SUV, and we are ready to leave at a moment's notice.

As some of you may have heard, we may be in for up to 8 inches of snow in the next few days, too. Wow, how strange that'll be. Possibly a blizzard if the winds hit 35 mph. It is wet snow they say, but by the time it melts we're supposed to have more run off, so they don't think it should too much affect the water levels because of that. Hope so. Not so sure I want to find out!!

R is off on sump/dike patrol tonight with 2 neighbors. Their shift is midnight to 2 am.

Well, that's about all for now that I can think of.

We are, again, extremely thankful for all of you, dear friends and family. We are thankful for our Faith, and are weirdly happy and healthy.

We hope that you are all well. Don't worry about us; we have each other and the girls are safe. We are experiencing another interesting chapter in the life of the E's, and we are so blessed.

May your days be happy, and your smiles warm. We are doing well. God Bless and Shalom...

FLOOD TRIBUTE VIDEO, Click here

fargo flood 09: a view from the outside 4 (flood tails)

Shortly after arriving in Baxter Friday afternoon, Mary pulled me over to her computer. "Take a look at these photos," she said. They were pictures sent through email by her sister of her family's farmstead, located about halfway between Fargo and Grand Forks on the Minnesota side. I've now received permission to post those photos, as well as some of Nancy's email reflections, which I find both informative and entertaining. I'll call these "flood tails." (Photos by Nancy Hanson)

March 25, 12 noon

Hello All,

Water has been pouring over the dike for about 20 hours now. When it first hits, the water flows behind our house, "kind of like a trout stream," K.C. says. The entire section is filling up with water (a section is one mile x one mile x one mile x one mile, so one square mile for those who don't know about measurements in the country). And when the section fills, the water then back-fills into our yard. It has done that now. We're talking about two to three feet of water for as far as you can see.

Sadly, the sandbag dike around the house is not holding. There's water between the house and the sandbags, and it's pouring (well "pouring" is a bit strong...it's "dripping fast") into the basement. The sump pump is running pretty much constantly, and we will lose this fight eventually unless the water stops flowing over the dike. We hooked up another sump pump outside the house to try and reduce the water flow into the house. It's working for now.

I took a walk to Mom and Dad's this morning in my hip-waders, and the water was thigh-high. Dad tried to walk to the road in his knee-waders, but the water was too high. It poured into his boot and brought him to his knees. He's okay, but it took him and Mom a long time to get the boots off.

Here's hoping we don't lose our furnace or electricity.

Hope you are all warm and dry.

-Nancy

March 27th, 12:45 p.m.

K.C. says, "we're not out of the woods yet." I tell him, "you're using the wrong metaphor." The water continues to pour in over the dike, but it has slowed down some. Last night the entire yard froze over except for the channel of water that makes an S-curve and ends up somewhere between our house and Mom & Dad's house. The water level on our foundation has dropped about two inches since yesterday, so that means only about 8 inches of foundation are submerged in water. Isn't it funny that that's an improvement?

The water continues to gush into the basement from a variety of places. The worst area is on our west wall. The water has filled the crawl space under the addition and is pouring through the opening between the addition and the basement proper. It's also pouring in on the east side around the window. ( I wonder why there even needs to be basement windows....) Anyway, the sump pump in the basement runs almost constantly, but so far it has been able to keep the basement from flooding.

Today the barn cats have finally ventured out to take a look around. Pandora, Neptune, Pluto, and Slinx (after the Sphinx, but with a Slinky sort of twist), all crept over the frozen yard to check out what's happening at our house. (Do you know I named all the barn cats after mythological beasts and villains? It seemed like the right thing to do). The other 7 cats haven't made an appearance yet, and by this afternoon they probably won't be able to get here. Things are beginning to melt.

In other news, our Moorhead neighborhood evacuated this morning. I'm not sure if the river is coming up or if they want people out of there because of sewer backup and the like. Either way, had we still been living in Moorhead, we would have had to get out today. I'm just hoping nothing horrible happens to our house--we still own it, unfortunately.

It sounds like Nathan got out safely yesterday and is staying with a friend near Maple Lake, MN. Our other friends in F/M are staying where they are...at least for now.

The nights get kind of long here...we're still checking the pumps every 30 minutes to make sure nothing has frozen up or has stopped running. Other than that, everything is going better than expected here. We still have heat & electricity, plenty of coffee and TP. We are, however, down to our last four Cokes, so if anyone happens to be driving by, please bring Coca-Cola.

Hope you are all safe, warm, and dry.

~N

2:20 addendum: I slogged through the water to get the mail (Go Postal Carriers! Rain or sleet or floods....), and on the way there I uncovered a FISH trying to swim down our driveway. The nearest river is probably seven miles away, so I don't know where he came from. I was going to keep him to show K.C., but I let him go. It seemed wrong, somehow, that a little fighter like that would meet his demise at my hands. (No picture, sorry. I can't get my stupid phone to take pictures when I want it to. It thinks I want to take flix... but I do have a ten second video of my sock, if anyone is interested).

P.S. The photo: K.C's boat, moored at our back door. The cat in the foreground is Slinx, the one on the boat is Neptune.

March 29, 7:16 p.m.

Hi Everyone,

The news of the fish in the yard set off quite a commotion at the Hanson House. K.C. immediately made me sit down, and like a witness to a crime, I had to look at K.C.'s poster of every fish native to Minnesota and try to identify which one I set free. I, of course, didn't pay any attention to the shape of the tail or what sort of dorsal fin it had...I just had a vague memory of some brown, some whitish-cream, and some red colors on the fish. So the closest fish to my memory in the line-up was a Brook Trout. Let me tell you, if you don't know this about K.C., this news was a really big deal. I suppose you could equate it to the day they discovered Neptune, or the day they found the Titanic on the bottom of the ocean floor. There really isn't anything more important to K.C. than fishing. He immediately dashed upstairs, grabbed his fly fishing apparatus, and headed out to the yard...I did too, to take some pictures and to look for another fish. I found one that had washed up on the ice (see picture #2), and after much searching on the internet, K.C. determined that it was not, in fact, a small Brook Trout, but a lowly Mud Minnow. All fishing and talk of fishing stopped at that moment (the fish in question perked right up when he got back in the water).

All-in-all our flood fight lasted just over 100 hours. I suppose there's no way to estimate how many thousands of thousands of gallons of water rushed into our yard during that time. Our continual pumping saved the house from being flooded, so we're pretty proud of that. My dad says he's never seen anything like it, even in 1997, and he's lived here for more than 70 years. What we're left with now is a whole bunch of ice and lots of mud...Here's hoping it's over for now. This summer there will be several truckloads of good Red River clay dumped on that permanent dike, let me tell you.

Hope all is well with you,

-Nancy

fargo flood 09: a view from the outside 3

Yesterday, Mary, Beth, Nick and I ventured out of the house to walk to a nearby park. Though the grounds were still snow-covered, the jaunt gave us a chance to meet up with this T-rex, which was just the right size for the kids.

Last night, the kids (seven here, two gone) had a chicken-nugget supper, then settled in for a movie. Mary and I enjoyed a relaxing dinner away from home. It was good to have some adult conversation and a delicious meal, which began with a shared "build your own" bruschetta appetizer. The offerings: garlic clove, onions, roasted red peppers, Parmesan cheese, fresh mozzarella cheese blocks, portobella mushroom and two spreads -- pesto and red pepper.

Troy called, and he'd been fighting some kind of bug all day. I feel badly he was home sick alone. Then again, being home sick alone is probably better than being home sick with children blasting through the house. He was feeling better by evening. He had the store open yesterday, but little traffic through it. He said people seem unsure of what they're supposed to be doing with their time right now. Everyone seems to be in limbo. A friend shared later how she'd been bringing food to some friends who are still in the middle of the fight, and described the deep bonding that's occurring right now as neighbors pour out their love to neighbors in a way that would not likely happen in the everyday world.

Mary left this morning for her church, where she is a pianist. In a bit, we will join her for the second service, to be followed by a pancake brunch. We're hoping to catch a matinee after that.I will try to catch up on paperwork while I have the brain space and time and await news from home.

Life is nice here, more vacation than escape. I am counting my blessings, this chance to spend time with my friend that I wouldn't have had otherwise, and for the kids to wait out this communal crisis from a safe vantage point.

I put up a post last night that leads people to a website where they can go to help the flood efforts from afar. I know for a fact it is legitimate. I heard this morning from a reader from NYC, formerly of ND, who has sent in a donation. I am heartened that even from here, I can help in some small way.

Finally, yesterday I had to talk by phone to a customer service representative. When she realized where I was from and that I'd left for safety, the conversation turned from the business at hand into a true heart-to-heart talk about the flood. She had no ND ties but had been keeping watch from her home in Pennsylvania and said she'd been thinking of us all with much concern. By the time we'd hung up, I was touched to tears, again seeing clearly the true goodness of people. Is this, perhaps, why God allows (not causes, in my opinion) these disasters? Is it because He knows that in them, we are going to be able to more clearly see into one another's souls?

fargo flood 09: a way to help from afar

I just received this notice in my inbox from fargostuff.com due to my affiliation with them through my books:

The Flood Effort Continues in Fargo

To all the helping hands who continue to assist any way possible, thank you. You are all heroes. The effort continues in full force. We are a strong community and regardless of what the next several days bring, we will remain strong, depending on each other to rebuild as needed. If you are a Fargo friend from out of town and would like to help, please go to www.impactgiveback.org > search "Flood" for the Dakota Medical Foundation (DMF) Red River Valley Flood Fund. DMF is matching the first $25,000 of donations to help with all the work that still lies ahead.

Thank you,
From the team at fargostuff.com

If you're feeling an urge to help with the flood efforts from afar, here is one way you can do so: Go here.

fargo flood 09: a view from the outside 2

I just heard from a friend who is still in the flood battle zone. With permission from her, and with names and numbers and a few lines deleted, I will post her email message below. Though I am on the outside now, she has a very heartfelt inside view of the flooding effort, and describes very pointedly but with grace what it feels like to know your home is in imminent danger.

Good morning,

Wow, how life changes in a hurry.
First off, if our "stuff" is saved, (home), it'll be by the Grace of God. If it isn't, we're fine with that at this point. The girls are safe and happy and that is priority. Truly, as we all know, life is fleeting and God has blessed the Es beyond our wildest dreams. Even as we face this crisis, it is just stuff and we are all healthy. Lots of sore muscles but it's probably good to get more exercise!

Okay, let me briefly explain what things look like. You all know that my words are pretty straight forward and my adjectives are not as descriptive/flowery as some, so stay with me.

When we built here in 1998, we built above the 1997 flood plane, so, of course, we thought we would never have to face this. Funny how things can change!!

Our home is along the edge of the overland flood waters, so a temporary dike was put up here (hesco.com), called hesco's that are a real engineering marvel. Our subdivision had to be diked up (approx 4 1/2 miles) in and out and around the cul-de-sacs. No small feat. We put every kid we could find to work, stamping and packing sand in each one of the individual cells of the hesco's, and the company told us we have the best constructed hescos in town. Then, between our home and KF's home became the main route for the bobcats and loaders so we have no more lawn, sprinkler system and it looks like our driveway is destroyed by the heavy loads. We found out that we had to raise them up even more, as the crest height was raised, so obviously that was discouraging, but accomplished. We sandbagged in nice weather, freezing sleet, lightning, and a snow storm. Now, today is nice (in the sense that it is sunny but 10 degrees) but there is a possible blizzard on the horizon.

The dikes are labeled with foot markings on our dry side and we peek over the top to see how high it is, it's creepy but there is still room for about another foot I'd say. This morning the water is frozen, so that is weird, too.

Schools are closed until further notice. Our girls left 2 days ago. Thank you to the families who have taken them. I am not going to individually mention every name, because I'll forget some, but I hope you know how much we appreciate that, and what you've done. Knowing they are safe is critical, and they are having a blast at their new homes.

The outpouring of help from friends and family is so touching, I am changed to the core of my soul as a result of this. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Food, hauling things, chasing around, running errands, prayers, phone calls, I absolutely cannot ever thank you, everyone, for what you have done.

R has been the best friend I could ever have. If you have someone in your life that is as good as he is, you are indeed blessed. He is calm, a strong presence, and wise. Not to mention in full story mode, visiting, and working his arms to the bone.

We have good city leadership, too, and that is gratifying. And, military presence is so welcome. Was a little weird seeing convoys going past my home, but I was so happy.

Our dike wall was blessed by Fr. Kurt and we have a crucifix and an American flag on our wall. Not sure what we'll do for Mass this weekend, but hope to participate some how. If nothing else we have EWTN to rely on.

It is hard to know how my office is. It is in an area of Moorhead that is diked off and hopefully will be safe. Doubtful, however.

So, here's what today looks like. Over night, many of the sump pumps/pumps outside froze up (mostly their tubing), even though there is constant watching of them. They are either then pulled out of their pails, brought into heated garages and unthawed, or the tubing is. Then they are replaced. The big thing is, will the barriers hold up until the water gets off of them, or not. They have gigantic (1 ton) sand balloons that if there are breaches they'll be dropped on those sites. That's good because obviously that'll help, on the flip side the huge water wave that'll result can flood a home, too. Also, on 32nd street, which is the n/s road that you turn off of, to get into our drive will be diked today, essentially walling us in. We will then be on the wet side of the dike. Our subdivision will then be sacrificed to maintain dryness, get this, all the way up to NDSU because of the water flow patterns. Now, my head tells me this is the right decision, my heart says, please no. So, if we can keep our little area intact we'll be okay. Also, there is no wind today, so no wave action, which also wears against the dike walls.

Again, thank you, so much, EVERYONE, for what you have all done. The outpouring of support leaves both R and myself speechless, and that's hard to do! What will be, will be. Remember, "thy will be done" and we will try to accept that. We are fine, the girls are fine, and we are healthy. We even had some fun by throwing beach balls, a toy boat and some rubber ducks over the dike and off they went in the current. We have had many "Lord of the Rings" flashbacks, and the girls say the orks are at bay. R is like Aragon, rallying the troops. Remember, "the day of men may end some time, but today is not that day"!!!

The clean up, of course, will be a mess, but I will have a clean house in the long run!!

I don't endorse CNN, but they have had nice coverage, and it seems to be accurate, which is more important.

Where we are at, the Wild Rice River is more important to us, and the Red River is of secondary importance. It's overland water that will get us more than anything.

I can't think of anything else at this point. Thank you, again, for everything that everyone has done, and we will probably not know the whole extent of that maybe ever, so thank you again.

God Bless, one and all, and we can never thank you, enough, or ever pay you back for all that you have done. May the peace of God be with all of us, and Shalom remain in your hearts.

We are eternally grateful, M and the rest of the Es.

fargo flood 09: a view from the outside

What a difference a day makes.

Yesterday, we were on the run, fleeing the rising river. Today, we are rested, well-fed, and much-relieved. That's not to say we've forgotten what we just left; not by a longshot. But we've at least removed one bundle of stress from the Fargo-Moorhead area. I don't regret our departure. Now, we wait it out with everyone who remains, only this time from afar.

It was strange. We left under duress yesterday, not feeling imminent danger to us personally, but the communal stress was palpable. It affects everyone in crisis. And when you're a mother, responsible for the well-being of five kids, it's a tough game, the waiting game. It's hard to imagine from the outside how overwhelming it can be in the middle. I feel for my friends who are still there with families, and I worry about my husband, being there without us.At the same time, it is such a blessing to feel safe.

Nevertheless, my heart aches for my friend who lost her home two nights ago. Just before we left, I watched her and her daughter on national television, their water-filled home in the background. Though obviously depleted from what they'd just endured, they were a beautiful sight -- composed and eloquent. And they talked about diverting their energy to helping others still in the fight. I am so proud of who they are and how they have handled their loss. The background story is that this friend lost her mother to cancer quite a few years ago. Later, when her father had gone elsewhere, she and her family moved into the parents' home. So, even though, in her words, "it's just a house," I know otherwise. I know that her home contained many memories, not only of her own family's living, but of the times she spent with her parents there. It is just a home, but one that had been filled with life. A piece of your soul remains when you lose a home. I know this from having lost my childhood home to arson several years ago.

But here we are now, and I can't imagine a better place on earth for us to be. My friend, Mary, went through the Grand Forks flood in 1997. She was a teacher, and when the school year ended abruptly, she left town with her 3-year-old feeling a void of unresolve. Because the summer came next, there was little processing with the community in the aftermath. Instead, people either scattered or slogged through the debris, numb and in disbelief as a communal grieving took hold.

She knows what it's like to feel the stress of it, to feel displaced, to need a warm welcome, and she definitely provided that to us. Everything has changed in the last 24 hours. The moment I arrived at her doorstep, the stress level went down about ten notches, and the fatigue from both relief and sleepless nights prior took over. But today is a new and wonderful day.

Last night, I took the kids to Target -- a promised outing from days before. The little boys were especially giddy, excited to spend their dollars in the "dollar section." My oldest had stayed home with Mary's boys, hanging out in their "boy heaven" basement. I looked at my kids and felt so relieved and happy. Everyone seems so relaxed. After Target, we went through the carwash. "We're gonna die!!!!" the kids screamed from the back seat, taking full advantage of the car-wash drama. How grateful I felt at that moment that it was said in good fun, and that we were in the safety of a carwash and not in a home in Fargo-Moorhead being washed away for real.

Fleeing is not the choice of every parent. Many have stayed. But I know we're not the only family that left for higher ground. And as I came downstairs this morning and saw that Mary had put a cup for me near the coffeemaker, and when I found the bookmark she'd placed on the nightstand where I would sleep that says, "Happiness is having a friend by your side," and as we talked last night until 1 in the morning, the kids snoozing away, all of these things have affirmed to me that we are in the right place, and that God is with us in a profound way. Whether we have sought refuge or remained behind, He is right here with us.

And now, I can use my replenished energy to focus my prayers on those back home. They say to pray when you are in good health, because it is more difficult to pray when ill. I assume that to mean well emotionally, too, because I suddenly feel a need, now that we are out of harm's way, to make my mission from afar to hold up those who remain near the flood through prayer.

My connection to you all through this blog has been a high point in all of this. The exchanges and open channel to the outside world has been healing and, I suspect, will continue to be. Your thoughts have been tremendously uplifting. Thank you. I will try to stay on top of updates as I am able.

Peace to you!

[Photos: 1) Boy central basement, 2) Movie-watching slackers, 3) "Hope" wall-hanging, 4) Mirrored wall-hanging reflecting back yard trees]

flood: a view from the inside 6 (heavy-hearted)

This will be my last installment of "flood: a view from the inside." My next post, if all goes as planned, will be written from the outside. The kids and I will leave tomorrow morning with the intent of making it to a friend's home in Minnesota a couple hours away. Having experienced the Grand Forks flood in 1997, this friend didn't hesitate a moment a few days back to open her arms and offer her home as safe haven. I didn't give her offer too much thought then, but today, as predictions of an even higher river crest and waters raging faster than the devastating '97 flood, her words came back strongly, and suddenly, seemed more crucial than I could have imagined while still in the discernment phase.

Like so many here, I have been pushing aside my emotions, trying to use any extra energy to think clearly, stay alert, make prudent choices, try to help those in need when possible, and keep my kids calm. When a natural disaster is on the horizon, even moving through the everyday with your family can be trying. And really, the everyday is nonexistent when your very future is in question. But as a mother, most of those emotions must be quelled for the kids' sake. I'm not advocating dishonesty, but if my kids knew what I really thought about this flood...if I really let loose my thoughts and emotions...it would be completely unfair. They would not know how to process it. I would put unnecessary fear into them. No, better to soften it a bit, like the father in the film, "It's A Beautiful Life," who, when sent to a concentration camp with his son, makes a game of the whole thing, tricking his son into thinking it's all in good fun. It's heart-wrenching to watch, knowing they are walking toward their death. But...the love of the father comes through very poignantly.

I've felt a little like that father over the past couple of days, trying to keep things light, being honest with the kids but revealing the truth at their level as best I can. But tonight, I am starting to lose it a bit. Not so much in front of the kids...but tonight it began to weigh heavily as I watched the television and saw homes being consumed by water; and listened to the county commissioners discussing plans, their voices breaking occasionally from emotion; and heard the hospital spokesman talk about a middle-of-the-night evacuation of patients. But the breaking point came when I learned of a friend whose home is already gone. My heart is aching for her, her husband and their four children. In her neighborhood, my father's cousin and his family have a home. I have yet to hear the status, but I am nervous. In another nearby division, my son's good friend has been evacuated. These are the few I know about so far, but I'm sure there are others. Many people in our school community live in the high-alert areas. I know that in the coming days I am going to hear of more devastation, and it is going to be extremely difficult. I also know that in time, there will be a huge outpouring of love; in fact, that's already started. But not fully yet. We're still in the middle of it, still holding our breath for those whose homes remain standing, including our own.

We are growing weary, and the river is expected to not only crest the highest in recorded history, but to stand at that high point for days -- even as long as a week or more. That is about a week too long. I am truly concerned for what could result. But, unless I am prevented from leaving, I can no longer sit in my home and wait, watching from the inside. I am compelled now to bring my children out of harm's way. But I know, even at a distance, a part of me will be here still, hoping and praying, this time from the outside.

Your thoughts and prayers have been so warm and wonderful. Thank you so very much.

I hope to be back soon...

open for comments

I found out I had to change the comments function BEFORE posting, or it won't take. So, from here on out, comments will be running again. I just feel like, in times of great stress like now, I am in need of that exchange, and will do my best to return it whenever possible. Don't feel compelled, but don't feel shut out, either, if you want to share any thoughts about what's going on here -- or anything else.

flood: a view from the inside 5

This isn't the first time I've posted photos of our deck in "spring," the table, grill and railing heaped with snow. But it's the first time I've posted them while a river rages a couple miles in the background.

So many scenes in the past couple days have been surreal, incongruent: a flood and blizzard in the same day seems unusually harsh, nearly inconceivable. And yet, people suffer harsh realities all over the world, day in and day out. Perhaps instead of, why us, we might ask, why not? While I might even do my small part to relieve the sufferings of those outside my immediate world, in human terms, it is all relative. At the end of the day, the most urgent matters are those right here at home.

Do we stay or go? What is the prudent thing to do right now? That is the question foremost on my mind today. By tomorrow, our river level is expected to be the highest ever in recorded history. If we stay, we could be sitting ducks in a vast, unpredictable pond. What's a mother duck to do? Do I gather up my ducklings and flee now, while the pond is still relatively contained, or wait it out?

It's a conundrum easily settled from the outside. Whenever our Mississippi relatives are hit with the prospects of a hurricaine, the answer is always so obvious: Go, go now! Pack a bag and hit the road! But when you're in the middle of such a situation, the solution is muddled. My gut says to go, but my husband, as protector, is inclined to stay behind to keep a watch on our home and his business. He's encouraging us to go without him. I understand the thought process, but it makes me feel uneasy that we might be split up. However, my mother instincts are strong right now, and so I've made preliminary arrangements to leave in the morning, unless a call for immediate evacuation comes through and we need to go earlier. A friend who endured the Grand Forks flood in 1997, now living in Minnesota, has offered us safe harbor. At this point, it's an offer I can't refuse.

The rest of the day will be taken up with final preparations, and though I might be away from my computer more often today, I will be checking back. In fact, Lenten considerations aside, I've decided to open up my comments again. I don't see any reason to shut out anyone at this point who might wish to get in touch, and this could be one more way to do so.

To those out in the trenches, to those parents in homes wondering and waiting, to those most vulnerable, to those on the road heading toward safety, prayers for you all. And peace to all the rest.

birth of a sandbag

This morning, we awoke to snow-covered ground and school cancellations. Even our big West Acres Mall, last I heard, had been closed. You know it's bad when the mall closes. In other parts of the state, my sister and half her family are stranded in Bismarck; the other half remain at home an hour away in a town that is also experiencing flooding and snowstorms in the same week.

Our city is beginning to talk evacuation plans. It might be an act of extra-preparedness, but I am left to wonder, do we go there, start boxing up our most precious belongings, or take more of a "wait and see" approach? What is the right thing to do? It's hard to say. It's hard to sort through what we hear in the media and the true reality. All I know is that life as we know it is on hold at the moment throughout our fair city, and I am trying my best to stay calm for the kids' sake, at least.

Last night, Beth and I headed over to the Fargodome, a.k.a. Sandbag City. Here's what we saw:

The Birth of a Sandbag

flood: a view from the inside (in verse)

Children, in Times of Flooding

In times of flooding
Children do not fret
Over whether the insurance kicked in on time
Or if the sewer plugs have been inserted properly
Or how many military personnel have been summoned.

Instead, they smile,
Aware of the effects:
“No school tomorrow!” “Can I play in the rain?”
“Look at all the police cars in front of that sandbag truck!”
A growing puddle, to them, is an enticing splashing pool.

Yesterday, a friend,
After offering prayers
For God’s generous mercy to quell the rising river,
Said, “Bet the kids are excited. Hate to spoil their fun!”
I paused, realizing both the truth and freedom of her words.

She continued on,
Sharing a story of
Her father growing up in rural China, and how he
Welcomed the floods, racing with his brothers to the doors,
while waters quickly rose, to dismantle them, turning them into rafts.

His mother,
On the other hand,
Would be “running around trying to save their rice supply” with
Absolutely no help from her sons, wild with happiness at the gift
Nature had presented them through the swelling, swallowing water.

As adults
We can look at this
With a frown on our faces, grumble about “children these days,”
And try to talk them out of their glee through sharing dire predictions
to keep them grounded, coaxing them into a place of sound sensibility.

Or we could
Accept that
They are children, limited in their comprehension of worldly things
By design. We could let them run in the rain, for a while anyway,
And allow their innocent spirits to take hold of us, wash us with hope.

flood: a view from the inside 4

This morning, as I drove my kids to school heading east, I had to pull down the sun visor. Indeed, the sun was peeking at us, and the rain had stopped, offering hope. But as I peer out the window now, the gray has returned and more rain or possibly snow is predicted. Some much-needed dry days should follow.

As I followed the trail to school, the side street where I typically drop off my kids seemed unusually quiet, devoid the usual dotting of vehicles along the curb. As I wound through to the end of that street on my way to my oldest son's school, the "Road Closed" sign appeared. Up ahead and across the road, I spotted something new: an unusual fence. Several blocks beyond that lies the Red River. Apparently, the fence had been built overnight as a flood wall. And just now, I read in the newspaper that the fence is a Hesco Concertainer flood barrier. Hesco units were designed to protect U.S. military bases in Iraq and Afghanistan, but now have found a way to help another kind of battle. The rectangular units, which connect to form a wall and are made of a Galfan-coated welded mesh frame, are open in the center and filled with sand.

We did a U-turn to reach an alternative route, and on our way, noticed the sandbag walls along Rose Creek. Yesterday, I'd seen people working in that area -- one of many spots in our city that had collected a band of volunteers. In addition to that, evidence of newly constructed levees are all over the streets in the form of mud that has been left behind and flattened by vehicles. It's a dirty mess wherever you look, between the mostly-melted but brown snow, squashed sandbags and mud from levee dirt. But all of this points to a city and military working mighty hard to keep us from drowning.

Yesterday, while traveling along a business area that sports a huge, digital billboard sign touting things like the next concert and Hooters specials (always lovely to see when you're driving with your young children), I noticed the message had changed: "Sandbaggers FARGODOME overnight help critical." A friend of mine was at the Fargodome much of the day yesterday, working her tail off with her daughter. Here's an excerpt of the email she sent this morning:

"H held and tied bags last night for about 2 hours and A's going to do the same with us after supper; they are a great age for that. I can't lift bags in a line so have been going to filling places and H was really big help to several of us fillers holding and tying. If you have kids...it's warm there, there's food, seats for them to chill if they are pooped (or if you are!), music pumpin' and sandwiches. I know they were uncertain if they'd hit the needed 300,000 a day mark and I hear from the press conference over 400,000 were made- I teared up when I heard that and gave H a fist pump. Pretty cool that they tore up the turf and just made
it into sand central #2 there on floor of the dome!"

As always, it's heartening to hear the stories: of employers letting their employees leave work to help, schools releasing students to sandbag, and all the efforts being made to save lives and homes. My son is out there today with his classmates, building a sandbag barrier around their school. I'm sure it's something he will never forget: the flood of 2009, just as I can still recall so many details of the 1997 flood and its aftermath. It's stressful, but the good always prevails in tough times. Watching people work together and love one another is inspiring.

Personally, I am laying low because, after yesterday, I realized that home is the best place I can be right now. I am staying close to my communication devices, waiting to hear word on whether my author visit will happen. This morning, I received an email from the coordinator, and at least part of the event has been canceled due to evacuation of some of the students in Jamestown from possible flooding. Snow is still predicted in that area in the coming day or so, too, so...still up in the air. I also heard parts of the Interstate are flooded and closed, so I might not be able to get there even if I tried.

Update: Just in, an email with a request that we reschedule the entire three-school author visit. Deja vu, but I think it's a good idea. I wasn't relishing the thought of being away from my family during this time of uncertainty.

I hope to be back later today with thoughts on how children's and adults' views of natural disaster differ from one another.

Peace be with you...

flood: a view from the inside 3 (visual essay)

I was on my way to the neighborhood of someone people from our school community but was stopped at this blocked roadway.

My hope of finding another neighborhood of community friends ended in a U-turn after I heard by phone there'd been a stalling of efforts from lack of sand. I pulled over to take a few shots of the side of the road...now one with the river.

Made my way up University Drive to check another neighborhood, but was stopped by military...

Across 32nd to 25th, waiting on sandbagging truck...

Sandbags anyone?

Realizing even if I was able to catch a bus ride to a sandbagging site, I didn't have proper attire (boots) or equipment (shovel), I retreated northward, meeting up with my neighbor and our sons at DQ, resigned that the best help I can offer right now is at home.

Here we are, back where we started...

Time to throw the porkchops in the Crockpot and take up the mission of dragging lower level items to the top level. And of course, sticking near the TV and/or radio.

flood: a view from the inside 2

Not long after my earlier post this morning, I checked my email to find an update from our school. There are several sites named where people from our school community are congregating to fill and stack sandbags. Seeing names of people I know and care for has changed my action plan for the day. I called the Y to cancel our standing reservation in the playroom, I've ventured out to find some jugs of water to keep nearby, just in case, and tonight we'll up our efforts to bring our lower level house contents into the upper level. And since most of the kids are in school and I'm not totally housebound, I've summoned to help of my neighbor to watch Nick so I can take part in the effort to save our city.

In some ways, it feels like our efforts might be futile. Hourly predictions are becoming bleaker, and the skies have not budged nor broken from constant gray. But nevertheless, the time of waiting seems over now. Action is required. We're a little slower than some to come to this reckoning. It's a hard thing to discern: when to cancel appointments and stop the flow of the life that was in motion to change courses in order to fight the inevitable. There are moments when several directions are offered, and other moments when the options have ceased.

My neighbor just called. She's ready to take Nick, so I'm out of here. I'll be back later. My slowdown on blog entries has ceased, along with so many other plans that worked well in other times but no longer seem relevant. TImes like this, I need my writing to work through the stress. Thanks for joining me.

flood: a view from the inside

During a natural disaster, a discrepancy exists between what those on the outside see on television and what those on in the inside are actually experiencing. While our home is not in a high-alert zone, it's still possible we could be adversely affected by this flood. We're still in the early stages of it but things are changing fast, looking more and more ominous, and both the communal anxiety and river levels are quickly rising.

As long as I have my wits about me, I'm going to try to share what this impending flood looks like from my vantage point within the city bounds.

On Friday, the usual early afternoon buzz of the women's locker room at the YMCA had quieted drastically. "It's just us," a woman said as she passed me by on her way to the shower. "I'll bet everyone is out sandbagging," I said, eyeing the television, seeing that the flood predictions were becoming more urgent.

While giving plasma Saturday, I overheard workers talking about their stiff bodies that had been rendered sore from sandbagging. A fellow donor next to me was talking about how if the drain plugs were sold out in stores, he might have to resort to using Nerf footballs. "A trick I learned from my Dad," he said. The usual, more somber, relaxed mood of the place had changed. People seemed antsy, ready to get on with their donation so they could move on to more urgent matters.

Sunday afternoon, the sky changed, turning gray. Even now, there is not a speck of blue sky. It is complete cloud covereage -- not the white, fluffy kind, but the kinds of clouds you can't even see because they are joined together, gray to gray for as long as you can see. Looking up, there's no end in sight. I called my friend to see if I could deliver her Girl Scout cookies. She's been flooded several times before; her house is situated in such a way that the neighbors' runoff drains into her yard. She seemed nervous. Her husband is out of town at the moment and she's getting ready to leave town herself and was wondering whether the preparations they'd made since the last flood were going to be enough to save them this time.

Upon leaving there, my daughter and I took a drive to a portion of the river closest to us. Much of the river is still frozen, but even now, trees are surrounded by water where there should be none. There were other spectators near us, seemingly there for the same reason: to take a look. When you have little control over a situation, sometimes getting out and watching for the signs is at least something.

Unlike many of my friends, I did not sandbag this weekend, and I feel guilty about that. Instead, I cleaned out my office area and started putting up some things that I would like to save, in case of a flood, and tried to get ahead on laundry. We probably could use a few sandbags out our lower level door, but, I feel frozen, for some reason, unsure of what to do exactly to prepare.

And then, this morning, as I drove my kids to school, at a main intersection lights of a police car suddenly came on. At first, I wondered if someone was getting stopped, but then I saw the large flatbed truck piled high with sandbags behind him. "Police escorts," my son said. This is not a usual sight here. Something big is going on.

On the way back home going north, sandbags scattered the roads, having dropped from those big trucks, and more lights flashed ahead as another cop car lead another sandbag-filled truck toward the river.

And now, having arrived home, I hear the television blaring. While my husband gets ready for work, he's watching the local news, and it's not good. "They're letting all the college kids out," he says. Schools are shutting down. We're wondering about our own kids, especially our oldest, who is smack in the middle of the problem area -- an area that flooded in 1997. The school and our nearby church didn't exist back then, so it's anybody's guess as to what might happen this time around.

And now I'm left to wonder: do I go on with my day? Should I go to the Y and do my Monday morning workout? This seems so frivolous, in light of what is going on all around me. But then I realize that if I stop living and resign myself to simply waiting for the worst to happen, this really will do us no good, especially from a mother's perspective. My primary task right now is to try to stay calm, continue on as usual until it's obvious different action is needed. My kids are having nightmares about flooding, after all. They're imagining our home floating away, like those they've seen on TV. I am trying to relieve their concerns, but I also have to be honest that our city likely is going to flood and we need to stay alert, but not panic. I need to assure them that we are here to protect them and we will do our best to do so.

Before he steps into the shower, my husband says that at the very least, we should probably get some extra jugs of water. I stocked up on groceries yesterday, but we might need that water; you never know.

This thought reminds me that there are two kinds of water: life-giving and life-taking. And sometimes, they converge. Odds are that they will here soon.

i couldn't have said it better

I'm sneaking in my Monday post a bit early this week. Lots to do tonight, and with the flood warnings becoming ever more urgent as rain drenches our snow-covered city, the citywide stress is palpable. In 1997, the last time things got this dire, we'd just moved back from the West Coast. With over a hundred inches of snow that winter, we were all desperate for a break by winter's end, but a break was the last thing we got. Which is one of the reasons that flood was so horrendous, not just to those who lost their homes (but certainly, especially them) but everyone who lived here at the time. Affected by the communal anxiety, I ended up leaving town for a few days with my 1-year-old, and still remember seeing the newspaper at my Grandma's in Bismarck the next morning -- a photo on the front cover of the Bismarck Tribune showing our northern river neighbor, Grand Forks, flooded and aflame. It was unbelievable. Seems we've just recovered from the aftermath of that disaster, and now we're bracing for another round -- perhaps the worst in history, if predictions come to pass. So now...we do our best to prepare and wait to see what Mother Nature has in store for us.

With all that going on, it might seem strange that I would have anything else on my mind this evening, but I've got plenty -- all the usual stuff about living, getting ready for an author visit in the coming week, a few work projects, and more. Needing a little down time, though, and after gobs of laundry this afternoon, I treated myself to catching up on a few blogs I follow, and was stopped at this one. It's so well expressed...I couldn't have said it better myself if I'd tried. So, I hope if you have the time and need a reprieve from flood watching (if you're in our area), you'll consider taking a few moments to see what Jennifer has to say on what to say when she's not sure what to say (did you catch that?). It's a beautiful post detailing her ongoing struggle with finding her place in the Christian world as a former atheist. Go here to read her thoughts...

As for all you in the Fargo-Moorhead area and all affected spots in North Dakota and Minnesota, I'm sending out prayers tonight for you/us all...

7 quick takes friday (vol. 3)

Another 7 Quick Takes roll. For more Friday Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diaries.

1. First writings. Some days I feel more than daunted by the paperwork that comes home from school. But whenever I take time to go through those piles, I almost always find some little treat awaiting me. Today, it came from my son’s kindergarten papers. It took me a few minutes to decode what he was trying to say about the dinosaur, but eventually, I figured it out. (Answer at the bottom of this post.)

By the way, this is the first photo I’ve posted to have been taken by my “new” camera – an extra camera my mom-in-law lent us a while back that I’ve embraced wholeheartedly since the dying of my Canon. This one’s a Canon as well.

2. Learning about babies. Speaking of my kindergartener, his teacher is in the hospital as I type, preparing to deliver her third child, a boy (her other two are girls). It's been an exciting experience for the class this year to observe their teacher’s growing belly. A few weeks ago, we threw an in-class shower for her. One of her favorite gifts (and mine as well) was a “onesie” T-shirt that had been imprinted with an art project made by the class: a caterpillar made of thumbprints of all the students.

3. Digging Donna. What a treat to find the latest book by my friend Donna-Marie Cooper O’Boyle in my mailbox last week. I’d won it through a giveaway on her blog, "Embracing Motherhood," and its arrival was perfectly timed with my Lenten mission of seeking spiritual food. Any mother needing a little injection of encouragement in facing the seemingly mundane tasks of motherhood will be refreshed by Donna’s latest, Grace Café: Serving Up Recipes for Faithful Mothers. In the introduction, Donna alludes to the importance of mothers connecting with other mothers in today’s world: “Like-minded women are feeling a vital and even urgent need to communicate with one another, comparing notes to discover the best approaches to mothering with grace as is very apparent in the many Catholic mothers’ blogs that have been popping up all over the Internet...” (I would add that this applies to mothers of all faiths and types.) Regarding prayer, Donna says, “The busyness of our motherly vocation may cause us to fear that we cannot be as prayerful as we should. However, we need to remind ourselves that our Lord certainly knows about our lives. After all, isn’t he the one who has put us in this place, the heart of the home, as mother to our children?” In other words, we need not feel guilty if our prayer life is not as we wish it to be. As long as we are seeking and praising God in our everyday tasks, we are praying!

4. Buffalo-City-bound. I’m thrilled to be making last-minute preparations this weekend for a three-school author visit in and near Jamestown, North Dakota (a.k.a., “Buffalo City”). While there, I’ll be giving numerous school presentations as well as one addressed to the community. I look forward to my author adventure with students and adults alike. Though I won’t recount all the details that will involve my getting away for a few days, let’s just say it’s always a monumental effort to leave the nest. But I know I’ll come back invigorated and ready to dive more fully into my roles here at home.

5. Summer dreaming. There’s a chance I might be spending some time at St. Benedict Monastery as a Studium scholar this summer, same as last. My week there last year was fruitful for many reasons, both in what I was able to accomplish in my writing and also in having the chance to rest and tune into my inner world a little more. I’ll share more as details come into focus. In the meantime, I encourage mothers out there to consider searching out even a small oasis in the coming months. It is vitally important that we take time to replenish ourselves in order to give our best to our families. (Photo from last summer’s Studium week.)

6. In the meantime... I met this morning with a spiritual director from the Presentation Prayer Center. I’ve been pondering the idea of having a spiritual director for several years now. I view the role of a spiritual director as someone who helps guide someone in their spiritual walk; not so much a counselor as mentor. We’ll see where this first step leads.

7. Flood watch. We’re having a bit of deja vu this week in Fargo as we prepare for what could be one of our worst flooding events yet. The stress is mounting citywide, and many are recalling the horrendous flood of 1997, which followed a record-setting 100-inch snow accumulation winter. Our older kids may be released from school for bits this coming week to help with sandbagging throughout town. I’m thinking it’s time to start hauling some of our more valuable possessions (office items and musical equipment, to name a few) from our lower level to the upper level. Prayers are always welcomed.

(Answer to Adam’s writing:"This has a pointed head." "This has a big tail.")

Have a wonderful weekend!

children: gifts, not possessions

Having finished The Shack, a truth I began processing years ago has come to the fore. It is the reality that our children are not our possessions but gifts entrusted to us. We are in this role to guide, not coerce (though strong nudging is sometimes required). We are in our children's lives to prepare a fertile soil for their eventual launching, a stronghold to which they may well return after their release, though in altered form, having mingled with the world. If we've done our jobs right, love will permeate our relationship with them, even in hard times, whether they're far or near from their nuclear nesting place.

I think I can speak in general terms about The Shack without giving anything away, and, thus, better explain why this story prompted today's thoughts. In The Shack, we are introduced to Mack, a father who has experienced something that is, by all accounts, a parent's worst fear. He refers to it as The Great Sadness. The way Mack grapples with The Great Sadness, mainly through interactions with God, brings a common theme to mind: we are, above all else, children of God. As the story progresses, Mack's journey becomes less about his relationship with his children and others in his life and more about his relationship with God, as God's extreme regard for his beloved is revealed.

Even though we call them "our" children, the five young beings who dwell in our house and hearts are more accurately God's children, simply on loan to us. It is a gift that has both blessing and burden attached to it.

As a new parent, I had more difficulty grasping this. Awed by the fact that my longtime dream of being a mother had come to pass, my thoughts were somewhat euphoric, but slightly inaccurate, too. I remember the first time I passed a mirror and saw the reflected image of me carrying my newborn in a front pack. I stared at that image, pleasantly shocked. There I was, and there was this being, this tiny person attached to me. The days of playing dolls with my sister were long gone. I was a real mother now. The long-ago vision had turned from vague concept into reality, and I was deeply in love with this new person I'd helped create.

Back then, it was harder for me to see where my son left off and I began. Newborns are so dependent on us, and we pour our spirits and life into their survival and well-being. Little by little, the detachment takes place, and then one day, we find ourselves looking in the mirror again but seeing just ourselves, wondering who we are, exactly, and what our bigger purpose is.

I am grateful for my slightly-older-than-me friends who have shared their wisdom and helped prepare me for that future time when all my birdies will have flown from the nest. But even now, while they're all still here, I am grateful to have the knowledge that my children are not my own. There is an incredible bond between parent and child, in good times and bad. But in the end, they really are not ours.

This may be disconcerting at first glance, but it needn't be. If we look at it in the right light, it is a freeing thought. Much as we might be tempted to feel we are wholly responsible for molding and perfecting our children, we are not. They are unique individuals with free wills, and we can only do so much to help them be who they were designed to be. We can provide the base, but at some point they leave to figure out who they are separate from us. If we have kept the important line between where they leave off and we begin, I believe, we will have much less trauma when the time comes for them to lift their wings and fly away. We will more easily realize that we are still whole, and they will become even more whole in our absence. We will realize that even as our role in their lives diminishes, God's is increasing.

But isn't that a nice thought -- that they are God's, not ours? That we do not have to bear the whole burden of seeing them off into the world, or even shaping them while they're still with us, and that once they are out there, they will never be alone? Likewise, no matter how "mature" we become, we can also be assured that we will always be a child of God first; that we'll never be abandoned by our Creator. The lesson of seeing this, of relenting to this reality, is a gift in and of itself. It brings about a calm acceptance that we'll always be cared for, as will our children.

Even when it seems otherwise, as The Shack so wisely demonstrates, God is holding us tightly and is, indeed, quite fond of us, always.

bleeding my soul onto paper

Bleeding my soul onto paper: my words for what the writing process feels like at times. Especially the act of personal writing, such as memoir, personal essay, column, and yes, sometimes -- maybe even often -- blog writing as well.

Both of my latest reads included sections describing the authors' writing processes and struggles and insight, along with all of the spiritual revelations shared. I've been saving some of this for the right time, and this week feels like the write, eh, right time for me, personally, to introduce these thoughts here.

So, here's what Heather King says about how books have impacted her life. I'd imagine we all could contribute our own story(ies) of how a particular book saved us:

[From Redeemed, p. 178]

"Books saved me life -- literally kept me from killing myself -- and now I know it was because so many people were willing to burn out their lives in front of a page trying to get it right. People whose goal wasn't to sound smarter or more profound than the rest of us, but to show us what it means to be human. People who set out not to sensationalize their pain, but to shed light on ours. People who didn't set themselves above the world, but were part of the world, and loved the world and suffered for it, and made art of their suffering. These are the heroes I look up to, whose feet I hope to sit at one day, whom I hope to have a chance to thank for their stories that sustained and comforted me, their hard, hard work, their example. Maybe fetch them a glass of water, a bedpan, a pill. If I'm lucky -- polish their crowns."

saint patty's with the sisters

St. Patty's Day celebration with the

Presentation Sisters, Fargo, North Dakota

To hear and see the Celtic music and dancing, press play...

7 quick takes friday (vol. 2)

The day is closing in on us, so before Friday slips away entirely, here are my “7 quick takes Friday” entries for this week/end. (For more, go to Conversion Diary.)

1. Yeah Bruins! It’s kind of funny, because our kids go to Catholic school and among our sports rivals are the Fargo South Bruins. Through the years, however, when it comes to girls’ basketball, I’ve felt just as faithful (if not more so) to the Bruins as the Deacons, since I know several of the girls on the Bruins team. Cassie and Megan were both young girls when we moved into our first South Fargo neighborhood. One of the things that struck us during our first tour of the area was the large number of basketball hoops aligning the long, winding street. And that is where both Cassie, our longtime babysitter, and Megan started their basketball careers – right across the street from our house. We had a hoop too, and sometimes they’d borrow it. I loved looking out the kitchen window and seeing all those kids playing ball. It tickles me to no end that this weekend, those same girls are going to be playing in the state championship game here in Fargo. We went to the pre-championship game today and it was such a “blast from the past” being there, seeing those "little" girls in a different, older form. It was a great game – close the whole time. But in the end, the Bruins claimed victory. I enjoyed not only watching the game and the girls, but reliving my own years playing basketball (er…keeping the bench toasty). Seriously, though, what a thrill to be part of a state championship competition. I think I’m as excited for them as I would be if it were my own children out there on the court! Here are two photos from years gone by, as well as one from today (1. Megan, Christian, Cassie first day of school 2. Cassie and Elizabeth in the fall leaves 3. Halftime today at the Fargodome):

2. Wisdom from ‘The Shack.’ Here’s what I marked in a page recently from my latest Lenten reading material, The Shack by William Paul Young. They are words from the fictionalized voice of God: “A bird’s not defined by being grounded but by his ability to fly. Remember this, humans are not defined by their limitations, but by the intentions that I have for them; not by what they seem to be, but by everything it means to be created in my image.” Something to ponder. And ponder again.

3. St. Patty’s Day party. I made the mistake of starting a tradition a few years ago by bringing the kids to a St. Patty’s Day party offered by the Presentation Sisters. When we had to skip it one year, I heard about it for weeks. So, we’re off tomorrow for the annual shindig, which usually includes Celtic music, green punch, Irish stew and green popcorn. The event marks the sisters’ annual honoring of their Irish heritage. In promoting the event, they like reminding people that “everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day.”

Another St. Patty's tradition borrowed from my family of origin is the serving of cabbage and corned beef. If anyone out there has an Irish recipe to share, please email it to me (rbsalonen@cableone.net) and I'll post it here in the coming days.

4. Fruit basket upset? Would you have been creeped out or cheered upon finding a smiling orange in your fruit basket?

5. Snow piles and musty castles. This was my favorite of my postings from this week. If you missed it, you can read it here.

6. Second chances. It’s looking like the Young Author Conference that was postponed due to weather Tuesday will be rescheduled for mid-May, though final word hasn’t come yet. I like the thought of traveling in spring weather as opposed to through a blizzard.

7. Speaking of the big snowstorm… We collected about ten more inches of snow on Tuesday, and only today began receiving our mail again. The city shorted us when tackling snow removal in our cul-de-sac and it was impossible to reach our mailbox for several days. Needless to say, we had quite a pileup of mail today – including a few very important pieces, like a birthday invitation and a rejection letter for a piece I’d submitted (sigh). Being mail-less for a few days has made me appreciate daily mail delivery all the more. Here are some photos of the collection of snow from the latest blast, including a few of the snowdrift wall that was created in our back yard. It’s interesting what Mother Nature can do, but we’re bracing for possible flooding now (1. out of my office window, into the back yard 2. the snow wall from our family room downstairs 3. through the back door in our garage):

I might be back tomorrow with a few photos from the weekend. For now, I’m using my daughter’s camera. It doesn’t have quite the punch my Canon did, but it’ll do in a pinch.

Have a good one!