mama mondays: hug bugs

Mama Mondays: Hug Bugs

Me and Huggiest Bug, January 2003

I'm not sure what's gotten into my middle son, 7, but lately, he's been extra affectionate toward me. Trust me, I am not taking this for granted.

"I love you second," he said to me today, after telling me for about the eleventh time that he loves me. He'd searched me out, found me napping in a quiet spot on a futon, and proceeded to snuggle in close. I was all too happy to have him near.

"Who's first on your list?" I asked.

"God," he said, "then you, then Dad."

Can't beat that, I guess, but I know that it won't always be this way. I know how it is with kids. They go in phases. Sometimes, they seek affection primarily from their mothers. Other times, it's the dads who get the most attention.

But right now, my guy is in a Mom phase, just cause, apparently. And I am absorbing all of the hugs and words of affection with the utmost gratitude. Someday, he'll be more likely to walk away than toward me. Someday, he will not seek out my mommy arms to comfort him. Someday, that will all be the stuff of the past. I know this. And knowing it makes me savor these moments when he approaches me with outstretched arms, or says, unprompted, "I love you, Mom," several times a day. Oh, I am eating this up alright. It is pure gift.

I'm thinking this all could be a delayed reaction from his having been "de-throned" earlier than he would have liked. He was not quite three when his little brother entered the world, and even younger when my bulging tummy pushed him out of my lap. It was too soon. Every year since his little brother's existence, he's continued to be nudged away by one more aggressive than he, again and again. I think his displays of affection right now are some kind of re-staking his claim to Mom.

Even today, he almost lost his coveted spot. While the two of us relaxed and rested together on that napping couch, little guy found us and wriggled his way in under my other arm. After more wiggling and readjusting, we settled and I found myself in the most wonderful place with two adoring little boys curled into me. Because I don't have an infant right now, I'm not anywhere near being "touched out" out when it comes to affection. In years past, during the nursing years especially, this sometimes was the case. But right now, I'm as receptive as I've ever been to these spontaneous little circles of love.

At the height of our resting time together, I said to myself, I want to remember this. I paid close attention to how I felt. I was as peaceful as I could ever remember being, and that feeling of deep affection that permeates your whole body when you're encircled in love washed over me. I could think of no place I'd rather be than right there in that quiet room with my two little boys nestled near.

We all need the human touch. We all deserve such moments of absolute peace and love. And no matter how tall our kids grow, they are among those "all" who need this touch. A simple hug will do.

The hugs I received and gave today provided me with an injection of love that will last beyond that hour. They were medicine for the soul that I hope to remember throughout the week ahead.

If you haven't been hugged yet today by someone you love, I hope you will seek it out. Go ahead -- right now if they're near. If not, as soon as you see them next, give them a hug. You won't regret it.

Question to parents: If you have older children, do you still hug them? If not, why not?

soulful saturdays: resistance

Soulful Saturdays: Resistance

I can already feel myself tensing up, anticipating the resistance within that seems to be coming earlier and earlier with each passing year.

My daughters feel it, too. I've passed it on to them, through both quiet murmurings of annoyance as well as louder pronouncements of unresolved grievance.

"Halloween is barely over but look at all these Christmas decorations," one of them muttered last month during a shopping outing.

"It doesn't feel right. It's hard to appreciate it when it comes so soon," the other affirmed.

I feel it as invasive. There you are, waiting to open a beautiful gift, a gift you know isn't ready. And yet, everywhere, all around, voices shout, "Look now, now! It's time, ready or not!" You know the incubation hasn't yet happened. You know that if the gift is to be opened early, it could very well spoil the beauty of what is to be revealed. You try to shield your eyes because you very much want to wait. You want the moment to be right. You don't want it to be ruined.

The world says otherwise: "Have it now, have it ALL now, you won't be disappointed!"

Evidence of the invasion, of a premature tide, comes on December 26, when sad, lonely, broken trees will be flung to curbs like stale leftovers.

You move within this world and its glitter, its colorful lights, its peppermint lattes, its sales and Black Fridays and "buy buy buy now now now." You move slowly, not wanting to rise up but not willing to fully participate, either.

It's inevitable. The gift, or a facsimile of it at least, will be forced open before its time, and there's not a thing you can do about it. What you can do instead is not easy, but you'll give it your best shot. You'll have to summon a light heart, unclench your fists, and do your best to protect that little light -- the only thing left of the gift that has not been touched. You, along with others who understand, will help guard the most precious part of the gift, its core, and if you do this job well, when the time is right, your heart will leap, the eyes of your children will shine, and the warmth of deep, divine love will emanate from within you and outward to the world.

For now, tow the line, find the balance between two worlds, discern your own best ways to prepare. Grow quiet. Listen for the sound that will change the world -- not the noisy clanging of shopping-mall halls, but a wee cry of life.

Resist the clamor but not the underlying hum of Love-Incarnate-coming.

Have a blessed waiting time. Have a meaningful Advent!

How do you view the early arrival of this holy season? Open arms, or, like me, arms slightly crossed in a pose of resistance?

thanksgiving 2009: the aroma of giving

Thanksgiving 2009: The Aroma of Giving

Oh, I do wish smell could be transmitted through the computer. The other day, little guy and I helped bake bread prepared by my daughter's fourth-grade class. This project was canceled last spring due to the flooding, so the class got another chance to bake bread for shut-ins during this Thanksgiving weekend. But oh, the aroma of that bread baking in the elementary school ovens, there are few things as wonderful!

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Eyeing the goods

Incubation

Hot loaves cooling

Coddling the baby

The shiny wrap-up

And send it on its way...

writing wednesdays: a writer's gratitude list

Writing Wednesdays: A Writer's Gratitude List

I am grateful for:

1) The gift of words and the powerful effect they can have on others, especially when used for the good.

2) The many writing mentors I've had throughout my life, including my father, sister, English teachers and all those who have come into my life intent on sharing their zeal for the written word and helped me learn the art of forming "word pictures."

3) My five children, who provide a constant source of energy that oftentimes translates into column or blog post or story idea and bring meaning to my writing life.

4) My husband, who has had to put up with my late-night-writing schedule more often than is fair and still lets me know from time to time that he really does admire what I do.

5) My lovely writer friends, who are there through the rejections and acceptances alike.

6) Those who read and appreciate my work -- it wouldn't be nearly as enjoyable without you.

7) The writing tools that make it possible to record thoughts: computer, paper and pen, a fresh pot of coffee, etc.

8) The many great books I've been privileged to read that have provided colorful inspiration.

9) My mother and mother-in-law, who have always and consistently encouraged and supported my writing efforts.

10) Food and a warm house that allow me daily to be able to ponder more than just what I will eat or where I will sleep.

11) God, for the creative works all around that infuse my thoughts and writing with new life.

mama mondays: anniversary-by-numbers

Mama Mondays: 18/18 – Anniversary-by-Numbers

It’s official. I’ve now been married to my husband, Troy, for the same duration as the years I lived prior to our meeting. In other words, we met at 18, and today, we celebrate 18 years of marriage. In between the first 18 and our wedding day were the 5 college/courting years. Our oldest son will be 14 next month, our youngest is 4. In between are the rest – middle son who’s officially 7 this week and his sisters, 9 and 12.

While numbers and I don’t generally meld too well, I love the synchronicity aspect of them; like having been born in 1968 and graduated high school in 1986 – that sort of thing. On that level, numbers fascinate me.

Tonight, on the eve of our wedding anniversary, we enjoyed a wonderful Japanese meal at Kobe’s in Fargo, followed by (drum-roll please)...a wild shopping excursion at one of the “marts” in town. We needed a few household items – curtain rings for the shower, batteries for our son’s new remote-control vehicle, light bulbs, shampoo. It’s all so exciting in our 18th year of marriage!

I kid, and yet, I have to say, things are going pretty well for us at this juncture in our lives together. We’ve had our share of rough years, some darker than I wish; years when it seemed we were on different tracks and might not ever find our way back to one another. But we worked hard – the hardest we’ve ever worked emotionally on anything – and I’m pleased to say we’ve come out intact, as a family and as a couple.

This summer, we came up against the difficult realization that we might have to close our business. Moving toward and through that has been anything but pleasant or easy. But throughout the process, I have heard Troy’s encouraging voice, “We’ll get through it.” Sometimes, I’ve been the one to whisper it to him. And the thing is, at this point in our lives, I’m beginning to believe in the mantra. After 23 years of knowing Troy, I have come to believe that our most difficult years are behind us. That’s not to say there won’t be tough years ahead, that our children won’t experience difficult moments, that failing physically as we age won’t be excruciatingly hard. But, I honestly can’t think of anything worse than what we’ve come through.

And that’s the key. We’ve come through it, and we’re heading into a brighter period of our lives together. In fact, we’re already there, though still at the edge. But it’s a new and wonderful thing and I like the promises it holds – the promise of something that can only be experienced after working through something really daunting. For starters, for the first time in our married lives, Troy isn’t working retail hours. We’re getting a new chance to experience having weekends together, to work together as a team in a way that has not been possible until now. Even though it’s still not Easy Street around here, it’s become significantly lighter due to Troy’s new 7:30 to 4:30, Saturdays-off schedule. I keep pinching myself over this new reality, and I’ve caught Troy doing the same. It’s still an oftentimes chaotic life as we do the hard work of raising five children, but the theme song from Mary Tyler Moore keeps running through my mind nevertheless: “We’re gonna make it after all.”

A few paragraphs back, another synchronicity of numbers jumped out at me: 23 years of knowing one another, married on the 23rd. I know, it probably means absolutely nothing at all. I’m not a believer in numerology, but even the Bible contains the congruence of certain numbers and examples of numbers as being significant or at least symbolic for something either good or bad. If there is anything at all to the numbers thing, I choose to believe the lining up of 18 and 23 signals a good year ahead.

But you can bet that in waiting for that something good, I will heed those words of wisdom that say if you spend your days looking only for the big miracle, you will miss all the small ones along the way. So in the year ahead, I’m going to keep my eyes open, wide open, for the small miracles. There might be 18 or 23 or 1,823, or maybe even 2,318. Regardless of the number, I don’t want to miss a single one.

If you’re married, join us in celebrating wedding anniversaries today! How many years have you been married? In five words, describe your spouse.

turning seven with the aliens

We've had an alien abduction here involving pizza, cupcakes, games, prizes, and a hoard of giddy humanoids, male species. Conquest goal: celebrate seventh year of life. Outcome: mission accomplished.

faith fridays: suspect brownies

Faith Fridays: Suspect Brownies

[An analogy I once heard:] Some teen siblings ask their father if they can view a movie many of their friends have been watching. They claim the movie is, by and large, kid-friendly minus a few adult-oriented scenes. “Mostly all good ingredients,” they say. They wait in anxious anticipation while their father hems and haws, and finally, offers his answer. “Well, I’ve decided to go ahead and let you watch the movie,” he says. They look at each other and smile the victory grin. “There’s just one condition,” he adds. “I’m going to mix up and bake some brownies for you to eat while you’re watching it, and just before I put them in the oven, I’m going to stir a bit of dog poop into the mix. It won’t be a lot, of course. You’ll hardly notice; mostly all good ingredients, in other words. So, what do you say?”

Recently, I met up with a suspect-brownies sort of challenge. A friend asked if I’d be willing to donate to a good cause she was supporting. The request caught me off guard because I knew of her pro-life convictions. I also knew, after stumbling over some information a few years ago, that the organization diverts some of its funds into the abortion industry’s fervent friend, Planned Parenthood. I knew, too, that the organization’s mission focusing on “healthy babies” oftentimes crosses into the seriously immoral realm of eugenics. Because of that, I had reconsidered my own support of the organization, despite its strong reputation locally and nationally, and despite the fact that I’d worked for them for a short duration out of college.

I surmised my friend must not have known about the behind-the-scenes work of the organization. After all, it’s a component of the organization carefully guarded and hidden from public view. But the issues in question are well-documented. When I approached my friend about this, she was surprised – shocked really – but seemed grateful to know the truth. She’s now looking into other options and will not be supporting the organization in the future.

Not long after our discussion, I remembered a questionable note that had slipped out of my daughter’s backpack a few days earlier. It mentioned her participation in a fundraiser that would be benefiting this same organization. I was being called to step up to the plate again. How could I advise my friend to reconsider her position to support this organization, yet be okay with my own daughter’s innocent involvement in the fundraising project? Of course, I couldn’t. After a day of communicating back and forth with the school, it was revealed that the project had slipped through the cracks. The principal, who generally approves all such classroom activities, hadn’t known about this one, which had been organized as part of a parent-run classroom party.

In other words, no one intentionally brought ill will to the situation, any more than Joe Q. Public knows he or she is inevitably supporting eugenics by paying “$1 for healthy babies” at the local K-mart checkout each year. I also suspect the parents who set the project in motion were not informed of the organization’s tendency to meander into immoral terrain. This might not be an issue at all in public school, but in parochial school, it definitely becomes one; our school's mission is formation of body, mind and soul of the children who attend. But I could not hide behind ignorance, and hopefully, my actions and questions ended up helping a few others become better informed.

If I haven’t made it obvious enough yet, I’m alluding to the March of Dimes. I’m not pulling “conspiracy theory” here. The facts are facts and anyone can access them (see below for starters). And yes, the organization has done a lot of great things, but honestly, if you were offered that plate of brownies, would you take a bite? “Healthy babies at all costs” is perhaps more closely in tune to the organization’s ultimate goal than other slogans the organization has used. In light of what goes on in the corners, those cute little babies in the ads become more of a deceptive front. Think about it: When prenatal testing shows imperfections, what then? If carried out to its logical conclusion, the “healthy babies at all costs” mentality eliminates a lot of beautiful people I have known and loved.

Before the brownie-flinging commences in my direction, consider that the MOD has a huge public relations engine working in its favor. It would be much easier for me to not go against that and continue living my blissfully ignorant life. But now that I’ve seen the ingredients laid out side by side, I just can’t take the chance that I might be eating a bit of doggy doo-doo.

To test my claims, go here or here. If, after reading, you smell something slightly off in the mix, even if it would be simpler to just take a small bite, you might consider this information in any future decision about charitable giving.

It’s no fun learning an organization you thought was pure has an underlying, immoral motivation. It can rock your world and turn it upside-down for a time. But there are alternatives. For those who would like to support the good of what MOD tries to accomplish without the moral murkiness, consider The Michael Fund, which calls itself "the prolife alternative to the March of Dimes."

We’re rarely forced to compromise our conscience; the options are out there, and with a little bit of ingredient-digging, they will be uncovered. I, for one, would prefer to enjoy my dessert guilt-free than put my soul in jeopardy.

Have you ever come upon a suspect-brownie situation; i.e., boycotted a company or organization based on principle? If so, how did that action make you feel? Do you regret your decision?

writing wednesdays: the social networking conundrum

Writing Wednesdays: The Social Networking Conundrum

I’m feeling conflicted these days about social networking – the same social networking I’ve lauded and felt endeared to and grateful for over the past couple years. I vacillate between wanting to remain inside this wonderful, vital-feeling loop and thinking that it wouldn’t matter much if I quietly backed away.

It all started with this blog, Peace Garden Mama, an endeavor I initially resisted but eventually came to love – both in terms of what I have been able to share as well as what has been shared back; that wonderful exchange I was not expecting in the beginning but have come to enjoy immensely. Next came Facebook, another component of social networking I entered hesitantly but soon came to appreciate for many of the reasons mentioned above. Lastly, Twitter, a third element which added yet another dimension of online exchange that has, at times, brought stimulating information and fun exchanges into my life, and has introduced me to an even more diverse online community.

I have enjoyed all three in varying degrees, and for the most part, have found a balance with them. But my recent social networking hiatus got me thinking about whether I should stay here long term. I keep hearing the voice of a wise friend, who reminded me early on in this journey that I am a busy mother of five and a professional writer who, perhaps, has better things to do with any trickle of free time than to blog or catch up on Facebook. While I understood his point at the time, I surmised privately that he didn’t really understand the value of blogging and social networking, both on a personal level and a professional one. We’d have to agree to disagree.

Mine wasn't an illogical mindset. Agents and editors consistently tell authors that we need to build our platforms, our readership. Even when we don’t have a contracted work in the pipeline, we need to be preparing for that possibility. Social networking is the best way to do that, and it’s imperative in today’s publishing world, or so they say. And by and large, I’ve viewed all of this online activity as a pleasurable hobby as well as an important professional endeavor. It has not seemed like a chore, nor a waste of time. And yet, now that I’ve been at it a while, I do wonder on occasion whether it’s taking me away from other pursuits to which I’m being called.

Tonight, at the height of tossing all this around in preparation to write about the writing life, I read a post by Steve Laube, “Do You Facebook?” In it, Laube quotes an article from the UK that notes that Facebook users in Britain average three full days of Facebook use a year. I’d say that might even be on the slight side for some here in the U.S. Laube compares that duration with other activities that could be accomplished in the same time span: “In 72 hours a ‘nose-to-grindstone’ writer could produce 10,000 words on their next work-in-progress (that is about 1/2 page per hour). A motivated person could memorize the Constitution. An avid reader could consume at least six of their favorite books. Or a die-hard fan could watch all 158 episodes of the 'Dick Van Dyke Show' or all three seasons of 'The Dog Whisperer with Cesar Milan' and still have time left to walk Fido!”

It’s one thing for me to be pondering my time on social networking and its value, but seeing it spelled out like this by someone else makes me wonder all the more, Is it worth it?

Laube ends his post on an empowering but cautionary note, suggesting writers monitor their time online then ask themselves whether that time has been of benefit “personally, professionally, spiritually, emotionally, or otherwise,” and to use common sense and moderation.

As a writer, thinking up and writing blog posts is not hard; it’s a joy. I don’t think I’m ready to quit that altogether. As one new blogger/writer said to me a while back, “The blogosphere is the writer’s playland.” It’s true. This is the kind of thing we do well, so why not?

In a follow-up comment in his post, Laube said this: “Since social networking is something new it has become something ‘added.’ And if something is added, something is usually subtracted. My question is ‘what has been subtracted?’”

Aha! This, of course, is really the question we must ask ourselves and answer, and every writer will have a different response depending on individual circumstances. Personally, I haven’t settled the issue within myself just yet, and I don’t suspect I’ll come to a conclusive answer anytime soon. I imagine it will be a long process of discernment and could change each year, each month for that matter, depending on my family’s needs and other obligations. I doubt my discernment will result in a total pull-back, but it could mean occasional online breaks such as the one I just came from, just to help keep it all in perspective.

Have you found a balance with social networking? How have you dealt with the conflicting thoughts that come as a result of the question: “What has been subtracted?”

After you've left your response [insert subtle nudge], check out Nettie Harsock's post, "You Might Be a Social Media Junkie If..." http://www.nettiehartsock.com/

mama mondays: back, cuz mom missed me

Mama Mondays: Back, Cuz Mom Missed Me

A few hours ago, I received an email from my mother. She said she's missed seeing my blog posts during my week-long blog/Facebook/Twitter hiatus. Well, that was it. That was my cue; like in days gone by when she would gently wake me up for school: "Rox, time to get up." After all, if your mother doesn't miss you, what's the point, right? "Alright Ma," I could hear myself saying back to the air. Though a bit groggy from rest, I'm up now, not even needing the typical second and third nudge like in days past. I'm up on the first attempt, ready for re-entry.

Earlier in the week, I predicted my first post after the break would contain something really profound. I even pondered a few topics that might provide a stellar comeback. But more recently, I realized that a return to the blogging world must be carried out as gently as my mother's voice upon the awakenings of my life. So instead of a long discourse meant to change the world, I'm simply going to offer a recap of my weekend.

But first, let me say this much about the break itself. My blogging vacation wasn't carried out with any specific, single purpose. If my husband had high hopes the house would come out sparkling during this time of me being less glued to the computer, his hopes were sorely dashed. Nothing big happened at all. But what did happen is that I approached the little things with more tenderness at times, and with more appreciation. I started calling up names and faces of people I hadn't talked to in a while and I reached out to them. I enjoyed the reprieve from thinking up the next cool topic. I suspect there will always be topics dancing in my head in some form or another, but the temporary pass brought some relief, a sense of calm and restfulness, less brain buzz.

That said, it's good to be back. Thanks for sticking with me!

This weekend, I:

• Got my hair cut -- pretty short. Maybe I'll post a photo soon. When I picked them up from school, the kids didn't appear to notice. My oldest daughter was looking down and away when she got into the van. I had to clear my throat before she noticed. My sons didn't say a word (a guy thing, I suspect) and my youngest daughter had other things on her mind, too. Later, though, they kept staring at me. "I like your haircut, Mom," my 6-year-old son finally said. That was good enough for me.
  
• Stood in line for several hours with the three youngest kids for Swine Flu shots. It's a little hard to explain to children why they must stand in a vast line at lunch time (hungry tummies) only to be stuck with a needle at the end of it, crying and cranky kids everywhere. "She's a bleeder," the nurse said after blood squirted out of my daughter's arm. She did jab it pretty hard. I felt sorry for her, but better that than having to experience a life-threatening illness.
• Watched that same daughter a few hours earlier in her second-ever basketball game. I won't tell you the score. I will say they could stand to improve a little. I'll be helping assist the coach at practice starting tonight. Not saying that will do the trick, but I'm looking forward to pounding some balls with the girls.
• Learned the devastating news that a friend from church will be undergoing surgery to help slow his cancer, but that it is not looking hopeful long term. He has a beautiful family -- a lovely wife and three young children. I am shocked and saddened with them regarding this bleak prognosis. Please pray with me for this family, especially on the 20th when he has surgery.
• Went on a date with my husband. It was his turn to choose restaurants, but he bypassed his first and second choices and drove me to one of my top fives. It started the weekend off right.
• Watched the Shanley Deacon football team win the state championship, Class AA, against Devil's Lake. The game was close the entire time and the ending was one of those spectacular ones that could have easily gone either way. The Deacons haven't won one of these since I was in high school. It was so much fun to see it happen! Loved doing high-5s with my daughter!

Today, I'll be helping out on Catholic radio again, doing a little co-hosting with Tanya Watterud. Hopefully I'll have something profound to say then, if called to that.

Wishing you all peace in the week ahead!

Peace Garden Mama

into the belly of a whale

Into the Belly of a Whale

While this phrase normally hints at a dangerous journey ahead, I don't anticipate danger so much as simply a fairly brief (but hopefully fruitful) break from the world of blogging, Facebook and Twitter. Why? It's just time. I've read accounts of others who've taken breaks and how refreshed they've felt afterward. Recently, I benefitted from an unplugged weekend with my family. I guess you could say that weekend cemented a thought that had been growing within me to take a step back from the online world for short while to tend to other important matters. This online world is just too much fun too distracting. It's mostly all good. I love the little community I've discovered out here. Dipping my toe into the vast ocean of online existence has expanded my world in wonderful ways. But I also believe that breaks, from almost anything we do routinely, are healthy. And so it shall be.

I will look forward to returning a week from today with Mama Mondays, Writing Wednesdays and Faith Fridays. Hopefully, those who faithfully read and enjoy Peace Garden Mama will still be with me after this short reprieve. I will look forward to that future reunion.

I recently had the privilege of hearing a talk given by Irish native Ronan Tynan, someone who cannot be summed up in a word or even two but is something of a living miracle. In that talk, Ronan said, "A smile is the cheapest drug on the market, and there are no side effects." I love that, and it's so true. So, for your viewing pleasure, I wanted to leave you with something that would (hopefully) make you smile. I'm pleased to share with you a watercolor drawing my son recently brought home from school depicting Jonah being swallowed by a big ol' whale. Just remember, Jonah makes it out of the whale in fine shape and even goes on to do great things.

Peace be with you!

7 quick takes friday (vol. 24)

Welcome back to “7 Quick Takes Friday,” an occasional feature that offers a glimpse of where my thoughts have been lately.

--1--

Kid quotes: Recently, our four-year-old was having a conversation with his sister about our cat, Skittles. He was deep in thought about the future when a look of great concern spread across his face, and he asked: “When Skittles grows up to be a tiger, are we gonna hafta give her away?”

--2--

Mesmerizing corn: When we visited a pumpkin patch a couple weekends ago as part of our annual Camp Wilderness excursion, my friend Mary and I stopped in our tracks at a table of autumn corncobs. They were absolutely stunning, but I can’t help but wonder, is this truly nature’s artwork or human intervention? I’d like to think it’s God’s handiwork, but is this possible? I’ve never seen corn quite like this before:

--3--

Pumpkin-patch kids: I did post some photos of that trip this week, but a few pics of the kids at the pumpkin patch didn’t make it in, so thought I’d include them here:

--4--

Fudge, glorious fudge! And a couple more from that outing – this time from the candy shop we visited before heading back to the cabin:

--5--

Forum column surprise: My monthly parenting column was published a week earlier than I’d expected, so I had to sneak it into Tuesday’s posting with only a few hours before Wednesday's "Spotlight" was to go up. In case you missed the column detailing the above outing, you can find it here.

Disconcerting side note: The night I wrote said column, my daughter had a late basketball practice. While she was learning how not to "travel" and double-dribble, I decided to grab a frosty-mug root beer and work on my column at a nearby A&W. While typing away, I kept noticing the flashing of police car lights reflecting onto the restaurant's front glass and into the interior of the restaurant. The next day, I was shocked to learn that at approximately the same time I’d arrived at that A&W, area police had pulled in next door near an apartment to search for a missing Fargo man who had failed to pick up his daughter from day care. Tragically, as I was writing that column, that 49-year-old man's lifeless body was being discovered. He leaves behind a three-year-old daughter, whose mother also died this past spring. Worse yet, it appears her maternal grandfather may have paid a hit man to get rid of the son-in-law because he didn’t like the way he was raising his granddaughter. The string of tragedy is enough to take one's breath away, it's so hard to comprehend. I don’t like writing about such sad things, but I have felt a connection to this story because of the above-mentioned scenario, and even though I don't know the victims, it's so eerily close to home, and I'm concerned with everyone else about this dear little girl, who is a forever victim in all of this. Please pray for little Kennedy.

--6--

Inspiring quote: I didn’t hear the full name of the Dominican priest who said it but I did catch the words themselves, and they went like this:

“It takes both faith and reason to enter into the depth of all that life has to offer us.”

It’s one of those lines that gave me pause and sent a shiver through my body because it’s so simply said, but so true. And it’s exhilarating when those two things, faith and reason, come together. When it happens, we are offered the deepest kind of life possible. Living the life of faith is not to live a life of shallow understanding, as some erroneously assume. As believers, we are able to plunge even more deeply than others into the mysteries and gifts of life.

--7--

Lisa Moser rocks! If you haven’t checked out the interview I did with children’s author Lisa Moser this week, you’ve got to skip on over here just as soon as you reach the end of this post. Lisa is not only an awesome picture-book author, but a cherished friend. Her latest book, Kisses on the Wind, is one you’ll definitely want to buy your favorite little person for Christmas. It is a beautiful book in every sense of the word.

Fun Question (since candy is on the brain): How many licks does it take you to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?

For more “quick takes,” see Conversion Diary.

writing wednesdays: 'spotlight' series: introducing lisa moser!

Writing Wednesdays:

Spotlight's on...Lisa Moser!

I can't think of a finer person than Lisa Moser to be highlighted for this, the second monthly "Spotlight's On..." guest feature on Peace Garden Mama. It has been a privilege watching Lisa's career as an author blossom over the past years, and I am deeply grateful for the insight she shares here.

Lisa Moser first descended upon the scene of children’s books in 2006 with her award-winning The Monster in the Backpack. Since then, she has consistently produced a book each year, much to the delight of children everywhere. Lisa has spoken of her recently released Kisses on the Wind as “the one;” meaning, if she could write just one book, this would be it. (I can’t wait to hear why that is!)

Readers, I present to you Lisa Moser!

Lisa, you and I met in the summer of 2002 at the Highlights Foundation Writers Workshop at Chautauqua. Back then, we were both aspiring children’s authors with stories in our hearts and sparkles of hope in our eyes. Can you briefly share what events took place from the time of that conference to when you received “the call?”

The Highlights Foundation Writers Workshop was a real turning point in my career. That summer, I found myself really questioning whether I could make it as a children's author. My confidence was seriously shaken. I'd been writing, taking classes, submitting manuscripts, and receiving rejections for seven years. Writing had become something I dreaded, instead of something I loved, and I hadn't submitted anything for an entire year. I finally voiced that terrible fear of not being good enough to my husband. I told him I thought I was going to quit. And that wonderful, loving, dear, kind man went out and bought me a laptop and brought it home. Then he took the brochure for the Highlights Workshop off my bedside table and said, "You're going to this conference. You can do this." Marty has always been an incredible blessing to me, and I owe him so much!

When I went to the Highlights Workshop, I was stunned because everyone, and I mean everyone, was treated like a writer. It didn't matter that you hadn't published a book. It didn't matter that you were just starting out. The Highlights staff, editors, speakers, and fellow conference attendees treated you like a writer.

It's funny how much people believing in you matters. At Chautauqua, I found my joy again. I didn't worry about getting published. I wrote because I wanted to tell a story.

When I got home, I pulled out a story that I'd been working on for seven years, The Monster in the Backpack. I'd never been able to find a satisfying ending to that story. But one night, I just started from scratch. I didn't look at what I'd previously written. I simply started on it from a totally fresh perspective, and the story absolutely spilled out of me. Three months later, Candlewick Press bought the story, and I had a book under contract. What an incredible journey in three months' time- from almost quitting to selling my first book.

How has your life changed since then? Have there been some surprising aspects of becoming a children’s author that you hadn’t anticipated back in the summer of 2002?

I think the biggest change is that I take myself and my writing more seriously. I carve out hours during the day to write. It's my job, now - my wonderful, joyful, sometimes arduous job! And I love it!

What is it about the world of children’s writing that draws you there?

When I walk into a bookstore or a library, I feel this vibration in my soul. It's as if it's saying to me, "This is what you were meant to do. This is your gift." The good Lord gives us all incredible gifts and blessings, and I believe I was meant to write children's books.

I have always loved books. From the moment I could walk, I would follow my mom around the house with a stack of books. I would persistently bug her until she stopped whatever she was doing, took me into her lap, and read to me. Then I'd be off to grab another stack of books.

I've always been a voracious reader, too. But here's a little secret. . . I don't read adult books. I haven't for the past 12 years or so. Children's books and novels are the best literature in the world. (I find adult stuff to be a bit gloomy and depressing) Ah, but the children's books are buoyant and hopeful and filled with light. I read the new releases, the prize winners, the old-fashioned books, and the classics. Browsing library shelves for that hidden gem of a book is one of life's great pleasures!

You’ve shared with me before the fact that you’d hooked up with a wonderful writers’ group earlier in your career. How has this group influenced your writing?

I love this group of women! We've been together more than 10 years, and I depend greatly on their wisdom and guidance when shaping a story. They are my barometers on character, plot, story arc, and that all-essential ending. Now do I always do everything they suggest? No. Sometimes I use my author's prerogative and stick with a section I've written. But more often than not, they are right on the money with their advice. On my last story, Perfect Soup, I had the mouse stick his head in a snow bank to show his frustration. Three times I submitted this story in different forms to my writing group, and three times they pointed out this passage. I liked it, though, and chose to keep it and send it to my editor. After Random House had purchased the story, my editor called up and said, "I think we should look at this snow bank scene. The mouse needs a different action." Oh, my writing group got a real hoot out of that when I finally admitted what had happened!

My writing group is more than just a bunch of fellow writers. They have become dear, trusted, loving friends!

Let’s talk about your newest book, Kisses on the Wind. Firstly, what prompted your decision to name the main character after your daughter, Lydia, and how does Lydia feel about that? Secondly, when you shared with me that this is “the one,” what exactly did you mean by that?

Kisses on the Wind is the book of my heart. It's based on my relationship with my Grandma Crockett. I loved her very dearly, but I only got to see her twice a year. So, leaving her was very, very hard. Grandma understood this and taught me how to love and remember someone from very far away. She helped take away the pain and replace it with all of the good and loving memories we had of one another. I wanted to share this incredible wisdom with others, and I wanted to write a story about how normal all of those feelings are. I hope by writing this book, I've shared my beloved grandma with the world. If I never write another book, it will be okay, because the book that I was meant to write is out there. Kisses on the Wind is hopefully bringing goodness to children and families in many places.

I asked my daughter for permission to use her name in this book. At first she was very reluctant, but I explained to her that I wanted to include her in this book because I wanted the story to reach from my grandma (her great-grandma) all the way to her. Grandma never got to meet Lydia, but the gifts she gave to me, I try to give to Lydia. I love the thought of this. The love we give to others will ripple down through the generations touching others and helping them along the way.

I love all your books Lisa. You seem especially adept at sharing insight into special relationships. Even the “monster” from The Monster in the Backpack is a character with whom we easily fall in love. Are you aware, as you’re thinking up subjects for the next book, how the relational aspect will come into play, or is this subconscious?

The characters seem to come alive on their own. The monster in The Monster in the Backpack was actually our dog, Hawkeye. I love to tell children that all of the naughty things the monster does in the book, Hawkeye did at our house. This includes eating all my fifth grade students' homework as I was grading it! Yes. I actually had to go to school the next day and say to my fifth grade students, "My dog ate your homework." They didn't mind, though, because I gave them all A's for that assignment. I think they secretly hoped he would do it again, too!
Squirrel in Squirrel's World lived in my backyard, and I had fun watching his escapades one afternoon. And Lydia in Kisses on the Wind is actually me.

I end up loving my characters, and I write them hoping others will love them, too.

They say that every author has one message to share with the world. What is your one message?

Before I write, I always say a prayer. I ask God and Jesus to bless and guide me when I write so that my stories will always bring goodness to children. So, I hope my one message is, "Love one another."

If you could offer one piece of advice to an aspiring author, what would it be?

If you want to be an author, you have to read, read, read to write, write, write. And to be a children's author, you have to read children's books. I'm not talking about reading a bedtime book to your children at night. I'm talking about going to the library every single week and checking out a stack of picture books and a stack of children's novels. Read them, study them, analyze them, and enjoy them. By immersing yourself in the literature, you will begin to have an understanding of how the stories are put together. Then it's the simple matter of writing. Write without fear. Write with joy. Write the stories that live in your hearts.

Finally, how can readers find your books, and when is your forthcoming book, Perfect Soup, expected to come out? Also, can you give us a verbal glimpse of what it’s about?

Hopefully, my books are in your local bookstores, but if they aren't you can always get them online. You can also connect to the bookstores through my website www.LisaMoserBooks.com

Perfect Soup will come out in the fall of 2010. I've seen the color art from Ben Mantle, and it's absolutely amazing! The story is about a little mouse named Murray who likes everything perfect. He's missing one ingredient to make Perfect Soup, and it leads him on a very exhausting quest. In the end, he discovers something much more important than being perfect.

Thanks so much for sharing, Lisa. We wish you all the best in your continued success in the world of children’s books, and look forward to all the stories that are sure to come from your imagination (and heart) in the future!

forum column (november 09): unplugged weekend refreshing for family

Parenting Perspectives: Unplugged weekend refreshing for family

By: Roxane B. Salonen, INFORUM

Our family recently took part in what has become a lovely autumn tradition at Camp Wilderness Boy Scout Camp near Park Rapids, Minn.

Thanks to friends who extend a yearly invitation to our brood of seven, we joined their clan of six in the camp’s off-season for a weekend of relatively unplugged relaxation and fun.

After two hours of travel we arrived with mounds of bedding, food and other supplies. And in customary fashion, the royal welcoming committee ushered us into the sparse but roomy cabin with its plethora of taxidermy wall-hangings. It was as if we’d never left.

Soon, board games began clattering on long tables. While Russian tea and hot cocoa were poured, the youngest began their toy-car races and bouncy-ball dueling on hard-tiled floors.

Eventually, novels emerged from backpacks. Normal bedtime hours flew out windows into the crisp night. The cabin hummed with (gasp!) face-to-face conversation.

Who would guess what it took to reach this scene of blissful serenity?

Only a few days before our outing, the kids had begun oozing drama and defiance, complaining about once-in-a-lifetime events they’d miss if forced away from their beloved city routines.

What about that much-anticipated sleepover or the TV special scheduled for the exact same weekend?!

Yeah, what about it?

In response, I struck the pose I’ve come to wear well; that “mean” ol’ mama, tough-love parental pose. “Sorry, dears, but it’s Camp Wilderness or bust,” I said, snooping out extra blankets from the closet. “Bags packed, kiddos!”

It was as if amnesia had stolen every last memory of last year’s expedition.

But with that first muddy clomp upon the cabin porch, memories were restored – and I was redeemed.

On day two of this year’s outing, we ventured into town to visit a pumpkin patch and an old-fashioned candy shop. The shop was filled with endless bins of wrapped candy and rows of fresh fudge, caramels and bonbons.

Giggles, not grumbles, came as our children filled paper bags and skipped out the door with sweet treasures in hand. Next, it was back to the cabin for homemade pizza, caramel corn and a cheery standoff of double solitaire.

Why, I wondered, does it take so much to pull our families away from the plugged-in world? Do we not realize how the encumbered busyness and static have ensnared us?

I’ve learned not to be fooled by the snorting. Kids might be programmed to believe the plugged-in world is the only way, but all they really want is connections – with one another, and yes, with us.

If the chance to unplug your family and tune into nature and one another comes, let the gnashing of teeth roll away. Eventually, the amnesia of the last outing will wear off and they’ll be asking, “Are we almost there?!”

Salonen works as a freelance writer and children’s author in Fargo, where she and her husband, Troy, are the parents of five children. She also has a blog at www.areavoices.com/peacegarden

[The Forum slipped this into the paper a week earlier than expected. As it turns out, it's a nice complement to the photos I posted earlier today; they were taken the same weekend fodder for this column was unfolding.]

tuesday tidbits: autumn bounty

Tuesday Tidbits: Autumn Bounty

mama mondays: classroom full of...nothing

Mama Mondays: Classroom Full of...Nothing

The other day, I hinted at an emotional moment I’d experienced upon looking at a photo of my son’s first-grade class. In the photo, the little ones are dolled up in their saints’ costumes as part of our school’s All Hallows Eve/All Saints’ Day celebration. There were so many emotions running through my brain and heart as I looked at that photo, but I knew it would require a whole new blog post to explain why the photo had brought me to near tears. So, here it is.

The first reason was very personal. My son felt awkward the morning of the saints’ celebration. I think he thought he’d be the only one dressed up. “This is the worst day ever,” complained my typically good-natured son as he tromped out the door dressed as St. John the Baptist. He was in such a funk that when we reached the school grounds, he tripped out of the van and fell onto the curb, landing in a puddle of wet leaves and fresh, cold rain. “See, I told you it was the worst day ever!” he said, tears streaming down his face. I turned off the ignition and ran around to the other side of the van to help him up. After giving him a big hug and brushing off a few leaves, I told him it was up to him; that if he wanted it to be the worst day ever, it surely would be. But I reminded him it really was a good day for several reasons. One, it was a “non-uniform day,” which is always a special day at our school. After the little saints’ party, he’d be free to wear jeans and his favorite shirt – no school uniform. AND, there would be a Halloween parade and party and lots of yummy treats. “It could be a great day,” I said, “if you let it be.” With that, I blessed his forehead and sent him on his way. As I drove off, I sneaked in a prayer that his seemingly spoiled day would be turned around by God’s gentle grace.

Here’s the photo again, in cased you missed it on Saturday:

You can see my son in the left-hand bottom corner of the photo; he certainly doesn’t seem miserable. And when I picked him up from school that day, he said with a bright smile, “You were right, Mom. It wasn’t the worst day after all!” I can only hope he’ll remember that the next time he thinks the day is doomed even before it’s begun.

So at very first glance, the photo was a reminder to me of how often we tend to doom ourselves only to discover, if we are even slightly awake and aware, that God’s grace can turn right even the most rotten-looking day. Though I may have helped set my son’s head in the right direction, I wasn’t fully responsible for his “turned out right after all” day. Though I’d not been able to attend his party as I’d initially hoped, God heard my prayer and took care of things in my absence. Being mindful of the possibilities of what might happen if we but trust, and knowing my son had had a great day despite the rough beginning, brought joy to my heart.

I also couldn’t help but delight in the sheer sweetness of the image – those adorable little saints and how innocent and beautiful they all were. It just struck me in a deep way that, despite our imperfections, God sees us all like that! He sees our potential, our goodness, even if we are not saints every moment of every day. God sees when we are trying to be holy, and like a pleased parent, He, too, smiles with delighted contentment in those moments.

But there was something else about the photo that had a different effect. That part tugged at me in a sad way, in a way that actually sent me into a silent grieving of sorts. I’ve often heard the statistic that each month in our city, a classroom full of children is eliminated through abortion. And as I looked at that photo of those precious children and thought of that dire fact, it was as if all of those sweet angels vanished – none of them existed anymore. Pondering a classroom of potential little saints lost each week in our city alone ripped at me. The photo suddenly became symbolic to me in a heart-wrenching way. I felt such incredible sadness for everything that is happening in our world leading to this tragic result.

These thoughts took me back to an earlier day in the week; the day some students in my oldest son’s eighth-grade class stood in front of North Dakota’s only abortion “clinic” to pray, as part of the 40 Days for Life observance. My son isn’t much for divulging great amounts of detail, but he did tell me that during their time there, a car had driven by and flashed a derogatory gesture toward him and the other students. I still wonder how he truly felt at that moment. I shared with him that a similar thing had happened the last time I was there – someone in a vehicle passing by rolled down a window and shouted, “Scum!” We had just been singing and praying, and it felt like mud had been thrown at us. All I could think was, They have no idea who I am, what I’m about. And yet they hate me.

So, though I certainly didn’t set out to write about my pro-life convictions this week, the subject has presented itself to me in these two examples in my life as a mother. Both seem significantly symbolic, as well as terribly relevant. My older son got a brief taste of what it feels like to be “crucified” simply for standing in front of a building and praying. My younger son was part of an experience that reminded me of God’s sweet mercy, as well as the tragedy of our culture of death.

Once again, my children have served as my teachers. Even without knowing it, they have pointed me toward something significant, reminding me of the important things that are most worthy of my attention, and what I am truly here to do and be; that is, I believe, a small flicker of light in the dark, vast world.

What lessons have your children or loved ones taught you in the past week?