grace in the summertime

A few weeks back, I'd hit a rough patch in my summer. On several fronts, things seemed to be fragile and the way through it all seemed uncharacteristically bleak. Like anyone, I have my moments of doubt and despair, but I've been fairly successful in avoiding settling in that place for too long a duration. On this day, however, the black cloud I can typically wave away soon after it's over-warmed its welcome was proving stubborn.The elusive peace garden was seeming more fantasy and less anything that could ever be truly within reach. Even the hope to which I was clinging was borrowed from the past, from memories of other times when I'd been guided out of the muck. Borrowed hope -- now that's sad. But it's all I had that day. I wanted to run, but to where?

There were several things that saved me. The first was the smile of my youngest son, bright as a field of freshly-sprung dandelions. It was wide, spontaneous, completely sincere. It came at me like a blast of air-conditioning in the middle of the Sahara. That was the beginning of my climb back into hope. It was enough to get me through to the next day. And midday following that one, after several hours of travel and settling, I found myself floating in the middle of the swimming pool of my dear friend, someone I see once a year when I'm lucky. She and her husband had created a haven of sorts for their family in their back yard the year prior, and on that day, I became the main beneficiary of that well-thought-out plan that, originally, had nothing to do with me.

As I floated in the middle of that pool, I could feel my concerns melting into the blue waters all around me. Listening to the laughter of my children, more of the heaviness began to dissipate into the air above. And all at once, I was keenly aware of exactly what I was feeling, as well as its source. It was no accident, no coincidence. It was the presence of God. This trip had been planned well before I knew of the miserable day that would come several days before, and yet, God had offered me a safe landing place. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." I couldn't say it enough as I continued to float, swirling around while sunshine tapped my skin. That wonderfully refreshing feeling became more vibrant with each splash of water, each giggle, each shout of fun that rushed past me on the sidelines.

Once again, as so many times before, God had not shielded me from suffering. He had not stepped into my life to reorder things so that I could glide through effortlessly. But He knew how close I was to falling on one particular afternoon of my life as a mother in the summertime, and knowing this, He heaped a generous serving of grace onto my life.

It is there. It is. Even before you are aware of it, grace is on its way. Just hold tight and be open to its possibility, and then, once you recognize it, inhale and let it permeate your body and soul. And then, when you're filled up amply once again, look for the opportunities, as my friend did, to be a vessel of grace to others.

the tale-end of the sale

This past weekend, I experienced my first garage sale -- as a "vendor," that is. I'll admit, I've never been a garage sale kind of gal. I've always sort of observed the whole concept from afar with a sense of intrigue, and while the the idea of going out in search of a bargain appeals to this mother of five, I lack the basic "shopping lover" premise that would lead to such an outing being a truly enjoyable experience for me. The idea of setting aside an afternoon, not to mention a whole weekend, to go through someone else's leftover items in hopes I might find that-certain-something-I-just-have-to-have has not caused an excitement in me I know it does for some. Nevertheless, judging from what I observed this weekend, I'm beginning to wonder if I've been living in a cave for the last forty years. I mean, where did they all come from?

I recall my mother having one "rummage" sale in my growing-up years. What I remember about it is that we didn't have a garage and it rained, so the sale ended up taking place in our house. A little while after lunch that day, people from all over our small town began to filter into our livingroom, sizing up all of our home's contents, attempting to buy even things that were clearly (I thought anyway) not for sale. It was an odd feeling, watching the townsfolk shopping right there in our home.

Later, in college, we had some fun hopping from sale to sale, and we did get a few much-needed items for our dorm rooms at the yard sales near campus. But even that took a lot of planning, and a whole afternoon of walking from house to house. I was exhausted at the end of it. (Did I already mention I am not a shopper?)

It's always seemed to me much easier to call a local charity and have them haul away our excess rather than spend days preparing to organize, tag and sell no-longer-wanted items. And with small children underfoot, I've never been able to envision the whole thing working smoothly. But this year, with the moral support and help of a couple neighbors, I decided it was time -- time to experience the other side of the garage sale: the selling side.

So was it worth it? Let's just say the kids made almost as much money from their lemonade stand as we made from our sale. Well, not quite, but...if you consider the half-hour the stand was open for business before they grew bored and closed shop, the profits were probably relatively equal. But disappointing proceeds aside, there are other considerations to keep in mind when weighing whether to do it all again next year. Here are a few:

1) We got rid of a ton of junk. Even if most of it still ended up going to charity, the process of organizing a rummage sale got me motivated to box it all up and move it OUT! Our society has too much "stuff" in general, and if you multiply each item we acquire in a given year times seven for each family member times how many days we take in a new item, it begins to add up, adding unnecessary burden to our home.

2) I had a great time observing people, trying to predict what things would "go" and which wouldn't. Oftentimes I was wrong. I really didn't think that cow flag would get snatched up, for example, and who would have know those candles would go for full price? We also noticed that when we rearranged things, put them in more prominent place, they had a much higher chance of being bought. The rack of hanging clothes at the back of the garage hardly got a glance.

3) I came to realize that more than anything else, rummage-sale shoppers are there for a bargain, even if the item already has been marked down a good plenty. The goal must be to go home and announce what a steal it all was. "Look, I got all this for $4!" Sure, you didn't really need that waffle iron, but you got it for only 75 cents, so it's gotta be awesome.

4) One of the last shoppers of the day was a man who waltzed in, spent all of about two minutes sizing up the selection, picked up an onion "holder" and a DVD, paid for his purchases and left. All I could think was, Really? You came in out of the rain for that? There he was, a burly-looking man pleased as punch with an onion holder and a movie he'd only glanced at. He said he had another onion holder just like it at home and it worked great. Guess you can never have too many of those. Who'd have known?

5) My 6-year-old had a great time spending his proceeds from the lemonade stand at the neighbor's sale. He purchased: a sling shot, a hand-ball game, two computer games (which included a talking, stuffed toy fox) and a jacks set. He was tickled to no end with his finds.

So when all is said and done, even though I was dog tired at the end of it all, I would do it all over again next summer -- if not for the money, then for the chance to people-watch and have a couple glasses of the world's best lemonade.

return from red willow

Well, it seems as though the campers had a good time over the last five days. I'm sure I'll be hearing more over the next couple. I remember spilling over with stories upon my own returns from summer camp all those years ago. As it turns out, Brown Eyes stayed in the same cabin, "Ruth," as her sister did at the same age.

Speaking of tradition, whenever I went to camp, my mother always arranged a photo of me and my counselor either at pick-up or drop-off, so, of course, I had to do the same so as not to break the pattern.

If you have a moment to view the video, you'll catch a glimpse of the collective energy of the campers' and counselors' week together. It brought back wonderful memories to watch and hear. I took this just a few hours ago, before we tooled away from Red Willow and back into reality.

7 quick takes friday (vol. 13)

--1--

YOU LOSE SOME...There was really only one main reason Adam wanted to go to the American Legion baseball game yesterday: the lure of a drawing for a refurbished bike. Yesterday, when he began to talk disrespectfully, I told him that if he didn't change his reactions, he would not be able to put his name into the drawing. That was enough to flip the switch. A few hours later, he was tooling around in his newly-won retro bicycle. It pays to listen to your mom -- and be lucky!

--2--

FLOWERS AND WORDS: I've put up two posts now combining flowers from our back yard and words from my friend's home. Hope you enjoy them: here and here.

--3--

EMAYE'S HUGS: I've come to the conclusion that we are hug-deprived here in America! I learned this last night after meeting my friend Betty's mother, Emaye, who was visiting for the first time from Ethiopia. Upon meeting her, I received the double-hug treatment -- two on either side of her face, warmly given. Later, I joined Betty and her mother in the livingroom for some Ethiopian dancing. It is really quite interesting and amazing. Very little movement with the feet -- mostly neck and shoulders. Here's a YouTube demonstration. And here are some of us on the couch last night. Go here to visit Betty's blog.

--4--

LETTING GO: We're down to two children right now. Two are with my in-laws, one is at camp. It's an altogether different life at the moment. It's nice, and yet, I keep having to learn the lesson of letting go. I explain more and offer some tips on how to let go well here.

--5-

IS YOUR MAMA A... Last Friday I posted a mystery image and asked readers to guess what it might be. Here are both parts:

--6--

ADAM'S DISCOVERY: Needing a break from sorting rummage sale items, the kids and I went to the library this afternoon. We have a new city library, and it was fun perusing the shelves. In the middle of our browsing, Adam made a discovery. "Your book is in the library?!" he chimed, upon spotting P is for Peace Garden: A North Dakota Alphabet. It was a neat moment for a new reader seeing his mama's book on the shelf. Neat for his mama, too.

We also spotted this cool statue:

And a tiled wall that matches the aforementioned book's sunflower cover:

--7--

THERE'S ALWAYS A PLAN B: The rummage sale several neighbors and I were to do has changed slightly over the past couple days. First, we were all going to congregate in my garage. That changed when I was unable to both organize my garage and the rummage sale items. My more organized neighbor, who is not a rummage sale novice like I am, has graciously agreed to host. The third party has moved her sale to her home so it won't be so crowded. We also pared down from a three-day sale to a one-day sale. Our kids will offer lemonade, a quarter a glass. As of this time tomorrow, Barbie and her friend should have a new home.

I'll be back later to let you know how it went.

For more "quick takes," visit Conversion Diary.

Have a beautiful weekend!

flowers and words 2

As a followup to my first "flowers and words" entry from several days ago, I'll begin by sharing another of the flowers that has bloomed in my back yard recently.

And continue with a phrase I read earlier today:

"When the tension ceases, so does life."

So simple, yet so profound. I hope those of you who are in the throes of the most difficult parenting days can draw solace from that. I know I have.

Yesterday, my oldest daughter and I were not in harmony. The tension escalated until we were forced to go our separate ways for a while. Later, we came together again, and our day ended peacefully as we sorted through items in our neighbor's garage for the big sale tomorrow. It was difficult, but I persisted through our little storm with as much grace as I could muster, refusing to give in to the drama but also being adamant about my love for her. It was, in my mind, a successful day, but one that included plenty of tension. However, sometimes we must work through tension in order to learn what we're here to learn. If we run from it, if we will it away, we'll never grow. My daughter and I grew yesterday because of the tension that presented itself. That's why reading those words this morning was so impactful to me. Knowing that tension is a part of life and accepting that as a gift can make a huge difference. That doesn't make it easier at times to move through it with courage. That's part of the suffering we must do on this earth in our walk toward sanctity. But knowing tension can lead to a meaningful end is a wonderful, hope-filled thought that I am going to focus on today.

With that in mind, I'll end with another of my friend Karla's "domestic verbal splashes." This one seems particular appropriate as we head into the weekend.

I hope you will!

how to let go

A few weeks ago, I wrote about the subject of "letting go" in my column for The Forum. I'd had what seemed a rather profound (to me) experience involving a lesson in letting go. Writing about it was my way of learning more about myself, as well as lending a bit of insight to those who are not as far along in the parenting journey, and a connection to those who are either at a similar place or even further ahead and looking back now in remembrance.

Well, as these things often go, the column turned out to be fairly prophetic for me. Late last week, my in-laws called to say they were aching for a few kids and could they take a few of ours off our hands? It didn't take too long for me in my suddenly-summer-weary state to say, "How early can you come?" "Tomorrow," was the answer. It took a bit of rearranging, but it came to pass, and since last Friday I have had at least two, sometimes as many as three or four, fewer kids hanging about. And yes, it's made a tremendous difference. My stress level has dropped about three notches since then. I've gotten a chance to reconnect with my 6-year-old, in particular, whose last four years of existence have been all about stepping aside for his more insistent little brother. My daughters have been arguing much less in the absence of the prickly energy of their oldest and youngest brothers whirling about. There are many pluses. But no matter what, as I've experienced before and will again, there's always an emptiness that hovers annoyingly when one member of the family leaves for a while. Take out two of them and the hole is that much deeper.

I'll admit, as light as I feel this week, I miss the humor of my oldest that peppers our lives. And a part of my heart feels ruptured from being away from my youngest. I have never been without him for this duration while in my home, and as feisty as he tends to be, I miss the way he talks and the things he says that bring spontaneous light to my days. Life is nice right now and I want to hang on to the blessing of this, but there's that nagging feeling that something is missing. And, of course, it is. They are.

Today, I lost another one for a while. She went off to camp for the first time. More relief -- one less body to tune into. Even less sibling rivalry. Less food to prepare. And to go along with all that, more emptiness, as well.

But I'm learning. Each time one of them floats away, I'm re-learning the lesson. Maybe by the time they leave for college, I'll have it down. But probably not. I suspect that letting go is the hardest lesson we're expected to learn on this earth. I suspect none of us will ever really learn it to perfection. And I know it's a lesson we have to learn again and again and again.

That said, I know enough about it now to offer a few tips to those who will soon face their own letting-go moments with their children:

1) Be mindful of the fact that we are here to guide our children, not possess them. They are not "ours" to begin with. If we remember that, it's easier to let go when the time comes.

2) Letting go is a crucial step toward their ability to grow in confidence, and gain necessary skills that will help them thrive in the world. We are doing our children a favor each time we allow them, within reason and at appropriate ages, to step out into the world without us.

3) Making a mental tally of what you can and can't control about any given letting-go situation helps you move through it easier.

4) For example (see #3), I knew that I could not be at camp with my daughter to help her through any uncomfortable situations that might occur. But last night, I sneaked into bed with her, wrapped my arms around her, and talked to her. The talk turned into a prayer to remind her that even though I wouldn't be there, God would be -- at camp, and anywhere else she will go without me in this world. I told her she might feel lonely at times. I reminded her, also, what a privilege it is to go to camp, and how fortunate she is to have a friend to share it. I reminded her how much I love her, and how fun camp was for me as a child, even if I was a little nervous the first day. We can't control everything, but there are some things we can do to make our kids' experiences away from us less worrisome. Okay, and, yes, to help us as well.

5) And on that note, accept your own feelings that come with letting go. It's okay to feel conflicted. When you feel that feeling, welcome it as part of the process.

6) Then, let go anyway, and know that in doing so, you're doing your job.

7) Finally, once the vehicle containing your child is no longer visible, get on with your life. Stay busy. Do things you wouldn't be able to do otherwise. Control what you can, and leave the rest to the God who loves your child even more than you do.

If you're lucky, you'll get a early-morning call from your daughter or son telling you of all the wonderful things they're experiencing; things they might not have done if you'd been together. Or, you might receive an email from your mother-in-law with a photo that will assure you: all is as it should be.

Does this look like a child who is suffering over the absence of his Mom? Yeah, I thought so. It's all as it should be, complete with Grandpa's pancakes and love.

flowers and words 1

I wish I could claim responsibility for this, but the flowers in our back yard are the bounty of someone else's efforts. Due to the thoughtful plotting of the original owners of our home, each spring and summer we are treated to a sprinkling of beauty throughout our yard. Like a quiet guest that drops in for a lovely visit just when I most need a little burst of color, this clematis climbs its way up from the bottom level to our upper deck just below the grill every year. And I am always brightened by its presence.

Along with the flowers I want to share with you from my yard in the coming days, I'm going to post some words that my good friend, Karla, has sprinkled throughout her home. While visiting there last weekend, I felt so happy and relaxed, and I know a big part of that is because she works hard, like the gardener who lived here before us, to create a nurturing environment for her family and guests. Well, it's working, and I want to pass all of this beauty on to you.

Enjoy your day!

a river (almost) ran through (the picnic)

I must not get out much. Somehow, I missed the news that Fargo is, once again, flooding. Well, it's different now than back in April, perhaps, but if you were to drive by on I-94 and witness the Red River right now, you might wonder if you're looking at old footage.

Here was the scene tonight at our Area Voices bloggers picnic at Lindenwood:

Even with the river nearly lapping at our toes, the night was stunning -- bright and warm and alive. And, speaking on behalf of everyone else, and as Prairie Woman assumed in a recent post might be the case, "a good time was had by all." Far Side of Fifty kindly set up most of this, including booking the shelter and creating these nifty name tags:

Abra La Mente received a "verbal award" for having driven the furthest -- three and a half hours. She received a second, unawarded award for her multitasking abilities. Yes indeed, she used those hours on the road wisely, plugging her Crockpot into her car outlet and cooking up some delicious picnic sausages coated with onions, mustard and brown sugar (if I remember correctly). Yes, you heard right! While she was driving and cooking (there's no law against it that I know of), several of us were in our kitchens apparently dancing on a similar energy wave. We dessert providers proved the old adage right -- great minds do think alike:

Those who don't care for rhubarb dessert were out of luck tonight. Thankfully, I LOVE it and enjoyed each of the three versions. Other offerings included homemade potato salad, ham and turkey sandwiches, homemade beer bread/butter and potato chips.

Thanks, Area Voices bloggers, for a fun evening. It was so fun to finally meet Chance the dog and Buffalo Gal and to see East Side Professor again, as well as the others I've mentioned already (not to mention a few husbands and Ready-Whip-loving kids). Great food, conversation and connections of the IRL (in real life) kind.

evening interruption

Every so often, I am compelled to put down whatever it is I'm doing, that thing that seems to be more important than smelling the roses, and I head outside to smell the roses -- literally. This evening, my movement from kitchen to back yard did have a practical reason. I was on a mission to harvest something for the Area Voices bloggers picnic tomorrow evening. You can find out more at the bottom of this post. For now, here's a hint of what I'll bringing if all goes as planned:

But as often is the case, I became distracted. My eyes traveled from one corner of our yard to another -- over to the wilting "lemonade flowers," as my kids call them. Yes, in all of my busyness, I missed the yellow irises. They were here and gone before I even had a chance to size them up. Feeling deeply the lost chance, I started searching for that which I haven't missed, and I found plenty and I cannot wait to share my find with you soon. Here's a hint of coming attractions:

However, just as I was ending my photo session out back, I heard a familiar refrain, and before I could say "Rumpelstilsken!" two times, I was being dragged out front toward another scene -- this one a little less fragrant but every bit as sweet, in my kids' minds.

It's not every day the ice-cream man stops at the end of the driveway!

So for now, I share treasures of another kind:

My floral bouquet will have to wait for another night. But I will say this...I am ridiculous about flowers. I adore them. I love them so much that I was gasping as I downloaded them, and I felt like crying. I know -- I know! I am a sap. I look at a flower and see an amazing gift, almost too beautiful to behold. And fleeting, of course -- which makes me all the more adamant about cherishing them while they're here.

Perhaps there's something deeper at work. Perhaps that's the reason for my emotions upon seeing flowers blooming in my back yard. We, too, are here for but a short time. Will we spend our days in bloom, faces towards the sun, or in some dark corner, wilting away? And how rich is the soil in which we grow? And if it's lacking, how will we make it more life-giving?

The little distraction in the front yard provided an even bigger lesson tonight. These deeper moments are important and profound and we need to grasp them when they come to us. I was fully there tonight among the flowers. But then it was time to pull away from all that beauty and watch my kids' excitement at an unexpected treat. We roll with what life offers and savor as much of it as we can when the gifts come.

Speaking of gifts, I'm looking forward to the gift of friendship tomorrow night when the Area Voices bloggers come together, many for the first time ever, to meet our fellow writing/reading comrades. A few other bloggers have written about it already, so I'll save myself the time and link to their announcement posts: Prairie Woman, Far Side of Fifty, Buffalo Gal. If it's not too late and you're in the area, come join us in the shelter at Lindenwood. If you come early enough, you might even have a chance to taste my rhubarb crisp. (Pressure's on me now!)

what the dads didn't see....

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY DADDY TROY!

catnap

What the girls were up to this morning at the home of our out-of-town friends:

7 quick takes friday (vol. 13)

--1--

WHY I WRITE: I posted one of my favorite kinds of blogs earlier this week filled with kids' quotes. I guess I'm on a quote kick this week. I'm going to start my "quick takes" with one as well. I saw it at the end of a signature tag of one of my writing comrades earlier today, and decided to borrow it (thanks Beth):

"Writing is an attempt to sort out the confusion of life." - Isabel Allende

There's another one I read once, though I can't remember the source, but it goes something like this:

"Art is the act of bringing order to chaos."

How true it is! Is it any wonder that so many mothers are out there blogging away? I'm still at the beginning of discovering all that the blogging world contains, and every time I do a little digging into that world, I am always amazed at what I find. Writing is a powerful tool, and for many, it's more than a hobby. For many, like me, it's a lifeline. I don't mind if you don't always find the time to read my work, but I will always figure out a way to produce it because it is vital to me. If I attract a few readers out of offering it to the wider world, it simply makes the effort all the more meaningful. So thank you, readers, for giving my writing journey even more vitality.

--2--

RED, YELLOW, GREEN: My husband and I attended a parenting class last night. The presenter was Ada Alden, author of the book, Parenting on Purpose: Red, Yellow, Green Framework for Respectful Discipline. I came ready to learn a whole bunch of new concepts that I could bring home and apply, thereby transforming our family life into a peaceful, orderly affair. The presentation was engaging, but interestingly, a lot of what was presented are things we've already put into practice, or at least were aware were crucial parenting skills and have tried to put into practice. We came away feeling pretty affirmed that, even if we haven't been able to institute these things to perfection, we have acquired some knowledge of what it takes to run a household. Again, knowing what to do and applying those concepts are two different things, but at least we've got the concepts internalized. But of all the words spoken that evening, here is what struck me as the most poignant. I don't know if Ada was quoting someone else, or if she coined this herself, but it put in words the feeling I've had so many times about the parenting journey, and it's worth remembering:

"The days go slowly and the years fly by."

--3--

ANY GUESSES as to what this is? (Hint: Red River Zoo)

--4--

SOUTHWARD BOUND: I am so excited. The kids and I are heading south tomorrow to visit my very good college friend, Karla. We actually were supposed to leave today, but yesterday, my 4-year-old began throwing up in the back seat of the van about 15 seconds from home. Yes, we were just pulling into the driveway when a fountain of water came out of him. And, in fact, that's all that it appeared to be. He hadn't eaten breakfast and he was extra thirsty so he drank a bunch of water -- too fast apparently. After that, he was fine. But later in the day, my daughter called me on my cell to ask me to bring home some Sprite (that's never a good sign). So, after administering Tylenol, I surrendered and called my friend, who had been wondering if I could wait a day. Bad weather was predicted and she wanted to optimize our time in the pool. It ended up being a win-win for everyone. The kids seem well now and the bags are mostly packed. I never would have dreamed when we planned this trip that I'd be hanging back due to possible illness in June. Anyway, we're raring to go. It will be a quick 24-hour trip, but we plan to make the most of every minute together.

--5--

FIRST PLACE: I received notice yesterday that the religion articles I'd submitted to the North Dakota Professional Communicators contest had, collectively, received first place in the national competition of the National Federation of Press Women. I've had some of my work take first at the state level before, but believe this is my first national "first." As my mother always says, "Another feather in your cap, Rox." Indeed, it's always nice to know hard work has paid off.

--6--

ST. TERESA OF AVILA: I've been reading bits of her this week. Here are some words of hers that made me think a bit, then smile: “Prayer is nothing else than being on terms of friendship with God.”

--7--

BLOGGERS PICNIC: Our area "Area Voices" bloggers are getting together next week for a picnic! I'll share more soon. In the meantime, The Forum is giving our local blogs more visibility on its home page these days, which has increased my readership (click link and scroll to middle of home page). Welcome, new readers (and "old" readers, too, of course). I hope you'll stop back when you have a moment.

Have an adventurous, peace-filled weekend! For more "Quick Takes," go to Conversion Diary.

forum column (june 09): the 'what-ifs' strike again

I consider it a privilege -- the chance to turn some of my parenting moments into expressions of insight. I hope you will enjoy my latest contribution to The Forum's "Parenting Perspectives." The columns appear every Tuesday and are written by a slate of five rotating columnists. Because the columns are archived after a week or so, I'll include the link and paste the full column here as well. I hope you enjoy!

Parenting Perspectives: Daughter’s camping trip fuels ‘what-ifs’
By: Roxane Salonen, INFORUM

I almost didn’t see them coming, but the what-ifs know the perfect time to pounce – during those awkward lulls when there’s time to think.

I’d joined my 9-year-old daughter on our front steps, where she sat with her elbows on her knees looking out at the road leading to our house, a sleeping bag at her side and a look of happy anticipation on her face.

She’d just been invited on a camping trip. With little time to spare, we’d scurried around the house in search of a canteen, baseball cap, toothbrush and change of clothes.

Outside, the cell phone chimed. “They’re almost here,” I said. “You excited?”

She nodded, smiling. I blessed her forehead and gave her a mother squeeze. “You’re going to have fun – I’m excited for you!”

Soon enough, a pickup rolled up and three lively girls and a dad poured out. The girls bounced around in the driveway, helping to situate bags and sort out sitting spots, chirping excitedly about the upcoming adventure.

“You forgot your pillow,” I said, noticing the others.

“Oh!” my daughter said, dashing back into the house. In her wake, another dead spot opened for the what-ifs.

Though I’ve always aspired for us to be the kind of family that’s brave enough to tackle camping, I’ve yet to convince my husband of the merits of a summer night without air-conditioning.

Now, my daughter was being given the chance to experience the warmth of a real campfire – not just the fire pit out back – and sleep under the stars.

Still, worst-case-scenario images began to swirl through my head; things I’d watched on the news or read in books or retained from nightmares from my childhood. Was I crazy to let my daughter go away without me to protect her?

As I stood by the garage waving goodbye, I said a quick prayer for her safe-keeping. It was all I could offer now.

The next morning, I was startled awake by an early morning phone call. “Mom?” said a quiet voice. “Do I really have to come back by 1?”

“Are you having fun?” I asked.

“Yes,” she answered, suddenly charged with energy. “We just went on a hike, miles and miles, and when we got to the top you could look out onto everything and see trees forever and ever. It was so cool! So, can I stay longer?”

Moments later, I slipped back into bed, feeling contentedly sleepy.

I’d made it through the night just fine, and so had my daughter.

Thank you, God.

How many more such nights will I experience – evenings of teenage drivers and proms that will move into other trips farther from home, and years when months will go by without me knowing what my children are up to?

The what-ifs will threaten a return, I know they will. But I’m determined to hold them at bay.

I want my children to experience the life that awaits them in all of its wonder – including the mountain-top moments that will happen in my absence.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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

the things they say

Those who've been reading my blog for a while know how much I love to capture the quotes of little ones. A few of these are from the mouths of my own "babes." The rest have been shared by others this week, and I am happily "borrowing" them with the hope they'll make you smile as they did me.

On the way back from the hair salon late last week, my little guy, 4, was so proud of his new "do," which is "just like Daddy's" -- short and standing up with the help of hair gel applied by the stylist. The minute we approached the driveway and he saw his sister, he yelled out the window, "Hey, look, I got hair just like Daddy's! And I even have jelly, too!!!"

A few minutes before, cruising toward home, he'd been complaining in the backseat: "I'm freezing hot, Mom!" To which his older, wiser, 6-year-old brother replied, "Don't you know it's supposed to be steaming hot?" (Smart alec! Personally, I like freezing hot better.)

A few days later, that same 4-year-old had put a new spin on the earlier phrase. "Mom, I'm starving hot," he said. Then, apparently feeling the need to clarify before older brother piped in again, he added: "I'm starving and hot -- starving hot!"

Whatever works to get the point across, right?

On Friday, during a well-child checkup, our doctor shared a little ditty he'd heard that morning coming from the shrieking mouths of his youngest daughters, ages 3 and 5. (Important note: He has several older daughters in his household as well.) "Daddy, she's calling me passe'!" complained the 5-year-old. "Well, you don't even know what that means, do you?" he challenged, trying to quell the hurt. "Do so," she said. "It means I'm so yesterday!"

Loved that one.

And then this weekend, while recounting family stories, my aunt told me about the time her oldest son was about the same age as our youngest (4) and discovered hair on his legs. "Hey Mom, look at this! I'm growing fur!"

My other aunt told us about the time her son had applied Icy Hot to his tired, sore legs and was out and about on a walk. He overheard a young child telling his Daddy just after they'd passed by, "That guy, he didn't smell so good."

I record these because, if I didn't, I might forget them, and they are too precious to float into oblivion and beyond memory. But I know that my kids are far from the only ones who have come up with doozies. I'd love to hear your kid quotes, if you feel daring enough to share them in the comments box.

Before I conclude, I have one more. Yesterday, while on a trip home from our out-of-town birthday celebration, my older kids were talking about the cops we were seeing along the way, and how some of those cops might be chasing bad guys -- robbers. Upon overhearing this discussion, our youngest asked, "Who's Robert?" The question was followed by sprinkles of confined laughter in the back seat.

Be well and smile, and don't forgot to hug your children extra today. They are gifts, and on loan to us for but a short while.

(By the way, if you're too small to do the exercise bike solo, then why not solicit the help of your younger bro? One on each peddle -- at times one up, one down. It works!)

celebrating grandma

Born in 1914, she was a 16-year-old witness to this December 1930 fire. Some oily rags tossed into a closet by a janitor spontaneously combusted in the middle of the night, swallowing up the building. An important state safe was rescued by a middle-of-the-night heroine. No deaths occurred, since state workers were home snoozing when the fire ignited:

Several years later, she witnessed the construction of the new North Dakota capitol, and several years beyond that, her oldest daughter met her future husband while working there. In 1999, two of her great-grandkids played basketball at a park at the base of that new capitol, dubbed "The Skyscraper of the Prairie."

Today, we celebrated her 95th birthday. That's a lot of years of life.

Congratulations, Grandma. We love you!

7 quick takes friday (vol. 12)

--1--

HELICOPTER BOY: This morning, Nick came running up to me. "Mom, Mom you hafta see this!"

(Look closely. The object of his affection is visible, but shows up as only a flutter. Can you see it there below his outstretched hand spiraling downward?)

"Our neighvurs have a huge helicopter tree, and I'm makin' 'em fly! It's cool, isn't it?"

Ah, yes, nature's bounty, found this time at the base of the maples, a seemingly endless supply of summertime entertainment.

--2--

GRANDMA BETTY TURNS 95: We're heading out of town this weekend to celebrate the 95th birthday of the only living grandparent I've known since age nine. I think it would be wonderful if she reached 100 and beyond. Because her parents died fairly young and close to one another, and she's an only child, she's been preparing for years and years for her early death. Well, it didn't happen, thankfully. I can't imagine this world without Grandma in it. While writing P is for Peace Garden, I found Grandma to be a living history book. She was 16 the year the North Dakota capitol building burned to the ground in 1930, and was one of the witnesses to that sad event. Thinking of all she's lived through in her years on this earth is an overwhelming, amazing thought. Happy Birthday Dear Grandma! (She's pictured here holding my sister (r) and me during one of our many visits to her home in our younger years.)

--3--

GIRLS GONE WILD: With paint brushes, that is. My daughters and I have successfully painted all three of the kids' bedrooms in the course of just a few days. Mind you, it looks as though an avalanche has hit the rest of the house -- a result of our having tuned out the usual routine during those intense painting hours. But let's not focus on that now. All in good time. For today, the successes only: Boys' bedrooms here. Girls' bedroom here.

--4--

TWITTERY UPDATE: In the last week, I've started to do more investigating into the world of Twitter. We've had quite a lively discussion about it on my Catholic writers listserv, and partly as a result of that and just my own digging, I've come across a few interesting Twitter finds my Catholic friends might find intriguing. Among those I follow on Twitter are the Pope's cat, Chico, who recently reported he will be traveling with his owner on a trip to northern Italy. I also have discovered TweetCatholic, which lists nearly 700 (and counting) Catholic Tweeters. It has been nominated for several awards on the 2009 Catholic New Media Awards.

--5--

SUMMERTIME READING: I got into a discussion with a reader recently about favorite summertime books for kids, and she reminded me of one of my own favorites, Up North at the Cabin, by Marsha Wilson Chall. I had the pleasure of staying at Marsha's home a few years back with a small group of writers, and she was a very gracious and fun host. But her hosting abilities aside, Marsha is a fabulous writer, and anyone who has either spent a lot of time at the lakes during the summer, or dreams of doing so, will love this book. Do you have any summertime favorites? Please leave a comment -- I'd love to write another post soon with your recommendations.

--6--

DR. SEUSS ROCKS: Recently, I've been summoned on more than one occasion to read one of my favorite Dr. Seuss books. It's not one of the more popular of his books, I don't think, but it is quite an adventure because of its wacky tongue-twisting tales. The very last page is one I will never tire of reading. It is on a page with a sad-looking little, green bird knee-deep in a huge puddle of water and holding a wilted umbrella. Above are these wonderful words:

"The storm starts

when the drops start dropping.

When the drops stop dropping

then the storm starts stopping."

--7--

WE'VE GOT A READER: Yes indeed, Mr. Adam has just completed the achievement of reading a book from cover to cover, and the book of choice is none other then (once again) Dr. Seuss's The Foot Book. To hear his precious rendition of this story, scroll to the bottom and click on the "play" icon. You won't regret it.

And for more "quick takes," visit Jennifer at Conversion Diary.

Have a peace-filled, joy-drenched weekend!