mama mondays: memorial day weekend 2010 pictorial

 

faith fridays: 7 quick takes friday (vol. 26)

Welcome back to “7 Quick Takes Friday,” an occasional feature that offers a glimpse of where my thoughts have been lately. Because I kept my camera nearby this week, for reasons that will soon become obvious, this edition will be a predominantly visual reflection.

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PRETTY IN PINK: Can you think of a better way to launch the summer? My Minnesota friend Mary had this idea for a summer kick-off, and a North Dakota friend and I borrowed it. I think I've got a new "heading into summer" tradition. I wasn't ready for summer before this. NOW I'm ready for summer.

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KICK! Our week started on Sunday, when we attended six soccer games. Though I don't usually expect to get a great shot of anything at a soccer game, the perfect opportunity came to me toward the end of our oldest son's last game of the season. I like this shot because of its movement and what it represents. This is the son who started out his soccer career as a small boy intent mainly on chasing his shadows rather than kicking or assisting with a goal. It's been enjoyable watching him grow into becoming an integral part of his team.

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BIG POND BOUND: We'd no sooner put his soccer shoes away for the season when it was time to hunt down a tie and nice shirt for 8th-grade graduation Tuesday evening. The event centered around Mass with music provided by the 8th-grade choir members. This is one of the things I absolutely love about Catholic school. Each milestone event focuses on preparing for a life of faith. I love how the soul of a person is taken into account in this environment. The evening followed with a reception, which followed with a dance.

All of the teens looked so handsome and beautiful. I'm still a bit stunned to think we'll have a high-schooler in our family come fall.

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SWEET DEAL: Our middle child, not wanting to be outdone, decided we were not busy enough and that she should celebrate her birthday the next day. We kidnapped her from school and brought her to lunch, where she was treated to a free sundae. Her day ended with a birthday cherry pie (she could take or leave cake). (See my birthday letter to her here.)

 

After dinner, she got her final treat -- a spin around the town on her father's motorcycle -- helmet on of course!

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FLYING HIGH: This still wasn't enough, so we got up at 3:30 a.m. to see our oldest son off on his 8th-grade trip to Valley Fair, and then, a few hours later, rose again to take part in our school's annual Kite Day event. It was a gorgeous morning, and Spidey was raring to go.

 

SUCCESS!

SURRENDER...

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SHINY BUBBLES! A few hours after kites, it was time to head out to Lindenwood Park for another annual event: the last-day-of-school class picnics. What a stunning day filled with laughter and fun. Our group enjoyed tacos in a bag, then relaxed with bubbles before going on to the finale.

 

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WET RAINBOW: Thankfully, the water balloons were saved for last. The kids were asked to toss under-handed, not throw over-handed, the water balloons to one another. With each "splat!" another could be retrieved from the bucket until none remained.

For every ten balloon parts picked up afterward, the children were rewarded with a bite-sized candy bar.

And now...it's over. Summer vacation has begun!

Q4U: Now that we're heading into it full swing, what's your favorite part of summer? How about least favorite?

For more "quick takes," visit Jennifer @ Conversion Diary!

writing wednesdays: the comparison trap - don't get tangled

Good Day All!

It's my middle daughter's birthday today. If you didn't catch the letter I wrote her to highlight this special event earlier this week, you can find it here. I shared the link with her teacher, and today, she pulled her aside after math to share the letter with her. I can tell from my daughter's response that she truly appreciated it and felt special -- exactly my aim!


For today's post, I've written up some reflections on the comparison trap, especially as it applies to writers, but I think the advice I share could be applicable to anyone in any field of work or phase in life. I hope you'll mosey on over to Peace Garden Writer to glean some healthy thoughts as you maneuver through Hump Day.


Peace!


PGM

mama mondays: my 2000 baby turns ten

To my dear Elizabeth,

This week you will turn ten – a decade old. You are our millennium baby, and for that and many other reasons, you will be forever special to us. 

You are the child who came after Gabriel, your brother in heaven. You are the child who would not exist if things had not have happened the way they did. By your very existence, and in the most tangible way possible, you showed us that life can follow death, hope can follow despair, and that God’s love is brighter than the sun and all the stars blended into one.
I fought for your life in ways you’ve only begun to comprehend, dear one. Through you, I learned that doctors are human and there are moments in life when a mother’s love trumps the expertise of one proud physician. I learned that sometimes we are called to fight for those we love, even when they are only an inch long.

Toward the end of my pregnancy with you, you stretched my body beyond what I thought possible. You also gave me a scare when our your cord wrapped around your shoulder, when the intensive care unit swept into our labor and delivery room and whisked you from me. And then you let us know, with that hearty cry, that you were meant to be among us. Following that: my joy – my overwhelming joy – that after all of the worries, you WERE!
Fleeting scenes I remember from your first couple of days home: fresh, purple orchids on the table from your godmother; your beautiful, brown eyes; your round little body that fit so snugly in my arms and on my chest. We skipped the crib – you slept in our room, near our bed, close to our voices.

Back then, your older sister treated you so tenderly. I wish we could replay for you the sweet scenes that took place then as you drew her nurturing instincts out of her for the first time. You were her baby doll, and for whatever reason, for a while you were “Dee Dee.” Her Dee Dee.

I also remember how, whenever the song, “Brown-eyed Girl,” came on the radio, Dad would sing it to you (it used to be “my” song but you replaced me on that, and I gladly stepped aside). Sometimes, he would sing it to you when it wasn’t on the radio. I remember your rosy cheeks and shiny eyes and your soft, chunky legs moving with glee as your eyes met. I remember you in your baptismal garb, white as snow, a sleeping beauty.
Now you, staunchly in the middle as you are, float through our world, one day as the inept younger sister, the next, as the expert older one. You will navigate well through life because you can handle either end. You are a peacemaker, ready to sacrifice if needed, but always aware of your own needs as well and determined to have them be met.

Right now, you are a comrade of mine. You are the one who looks at me with those knowing glances when your youngest brother says something adorable that we both know, if we pay too much attention to it, will throw him into a frenzy. We have a secret world, communicating only through brown-eyed glances that require no words. I cherish this bond that is so uniquely ours.

This fall, you will be the biggest fish in the small pond. Enjoy it. The following year, you’ll be the small fish in the big pond. Just don’t forget about the guppies, one of whom will be your little brother. I have no doubt you’ll come through for me in helping guide him along. You will be his safety net when he’s in need of it. Someday, this role of protector will come in handy.

I’m proud of you, Beth. You are a bright girl who is very capable in school, who requires very little help from others. You never fail to attract friends, and yet I’m proud that you are not necessarily the leader of the pack; that you will hang on the edges fairly comfortably, observing instead of insisting on being center stage. Unless, of course, you’ve earned the spotlight; at that point, you do step up to the plate and shine.

You are not perfect. None of us are. I know you get down on yourself when you mess up. Perhaps too down. But there’s no need for that. Every hour is a new hour, and life is too short to stay mired in your mistakes. You might not realize this, but your virtues far outshine any of your character flaws. You are a light, shining brightly. I see it and many others do as well. The world would be a darker place without you in it.

I hope you enjoy this week, your birthday week, and the energy it will inevitably produce as the school year comes to a close. Summer will be here soon and wonderful adventures await you. I wish for you an enjoyable year in this tenth year of your life.

With love always,
Mom

sunday scenes: SPRING!

A few shots from my visit to Thief River Falls, MN, a few from home...

faith fridays: curse of the potty mouth

“And the tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness. The tongue is set among our members, staining the whole body, setting on fire the entire course of life...” – James 3:6

“But now you must put them all away: anger, wrath, malice, slander, and obscene talk from your mouth.” – Colossians 3:8

***

The other day I was talking to our occasional sitter by phone, and just as I was about to hang up, she said she had something to tell me. Apparently the last time my 5-year-old was at her house, he’d let an expletive slip. A boy with whom he’d been playing had told his mom, who reported it to the sitter. “Honestly, I didn’t hear it myself, but I just thought you should know,” she said.

I wish I’d have reacted with utter disbelief, but it wasn’t his first public offense. Last summer, this same child, at 4, was sent home by a neighbor after letting one fly in her back-yard sandbox. He’d apparently received a warning already, so out he went after the second slip. I concurred with her decision, knowing she was only trying to protect the innocence of her child, also 4 and an only child who’d not been unfairly influenced by older siblings.

Nevertheless I was saddened that it had happened in the first place. As the youngest of five, our littlest son is deeply aware of the injustices of his small world, and as such, has struggled to keep his strong emotions in check. That doesn’t give him an excuse but at least explains the disposition preceding his blunder.

I greatly admire families who have managed to stave off the curse of the potty mouth. Unfortunately, much as I’ve wished to be among them, a few choice words have slipped into our home here and there throughout the years. And once they’re out, it’s mighty hard to erase them. Curse words are like poison that seeps into the soul of a home with the goal of taking up residence, affecting all those within and beyond.

Unfortunately, I’ve had no help from the culture with my mission to eliminate profane words from our corner. I’m continually shocked by the steep downhill slide I’ve witnessed over the years regarding the acceptance level of cursing in the media, for example, even in light of my own childhood environment on the reservation, where graffiti on the outside walls of our school paved the way for my learning the facts of life, and expletives flowed freely and easily, often as an expression of inward pain.

Certainly, I can’t be the only mother out there saddened by witnessing her child’s absorption of negative words, and realizing he sees them as powerful, something to be used as a weapon when things feel unfair. Even though I know there are things I can do to help curb the problem, it’s a challenge, to say the least.

When I hear a curse word emanate from the lips of my children, I feel powerless to some extent, because even if a corrective is issued, irrevocable damage already has been done. I can try to guide, correct, and parent him or her through it, but all the same, the words sting my heart and shout “Failure!” into my ears.

Despite our culture’s ready acceptance of curse words, despite my own weakness at different times in my life to properly ward them off, I view them as extremely lame substitutes for real words. As a word lover who believes mightily in the power of life-giving words, I abhor curse words even as I fight to keep them at bay within my home. I see them as a feeble excuses for expressing our brokenness. Though they might attract attention and garner a swift response, there are far more honorable ways to accomplish the same.

I would love all the curse words to dry up and vanish. But since that’s unlikely to happen, I must accept them as stark reminders of the imperfections of my family, motherhood and self. Curse words reveal the constant battle of good and evil that is within me -- and everybody else who has roamed the earth. As a parent, when I hear them, I’m forced to confront my family's weaknesses. This can be painful for those of us doing our best to raise respectful citizens and better ourselves.

Even if we parents who have experienced curse words within our home feel powerless in the moment of utterance, God’s grace gives us all that we need to keep trying to improve. In fact, the other day, an idea popped into my head to this end. I told the kids the next time I hear a curse word from them, they’ll be resigned to doing bathroom chores. “If you insist on having a potty mouth, you’ll be assigned toilet-cleaning duty." We'll see if the idea flushes.

We have three toilets, each typically in need of a good cleaning. My preference now would be that I end up having to clean them myself; that the curse of the potty mouth will have been lifted from our hearth. But if that doesn’t happen right off, if this turns out to be a cross I’m to bear for a while longer, at the very least...our toilets will sparkle.

If you’ve been afflicted by the curse of the potty mouth in your home, what are some things you’ve implemented to keep your family from using “choice words” to air frustration?

writing wednesdays: thief river falls + heidi schlumpf

I've had a wonderful last couple days, a great majority of it writing-focused, much to my delight.

On Monday afternoon, my author friend Jean Patrick arrived in Fargo from Mitchell, South Dakota. After a birthday celebration (hers) at Space Aliens restaurant (a debut visit for her), we dropped off my youngest at a sitter's and headed north to Thief River Falls, Minnesota. Last night, we enjoyed a lovely dinner at The Evergreen restaurant, chatting it up with three other fellow writers who also had been invited to present at the Young Author Conference sponsored by the Northwest Service Cooperative. We shared both the joys and trials of the writing life. "I can't tell you how many times I've sat down at my computer to write and suddenly realized I needed to go clean my toilet instead," said one writer friend. "And I don't even like cleaning toilets!"

Ah, yeah, the dreaded blank screen. We all groaned in understanding of what it's like to face that taunting screen day after day, to go through periods of doubting ourselves, to confront the financial struggles of trying to make it as a writer.

As much as we agreed on the difficulties of this profession, we also nodded in tandem how our writing life is an immense gift -- one we would not give up for the world -- and how fortunate we feel to be in a position to influence children through what we have learned in our years of trial and error. We bonded over our shared sentiment that the writing life is a long process with many hills and valleys, but that it is more often than not filled with life and light. "The writing life is one filled with patience and faith," were the words I found in a book that was passed around in an attempt to inspire us. Indeed, was the shared sentiment in response.

But most of all, I feel gratitude. The chance to be among other artists, and to stand before a captive audience of children who have expressed an interest in writing, is something to treasure. Today, I feel like I made an impact on the lives of some of the kids who came into my presence. I had the chance to tell several of them who showed an extra spark that they have a gift that ought to be nurtured. I can only hope they take my words to heart, as I did when others led me toward this path. The chance to do this, to be that conduit of hope and inspiration for the younger generation of writers, is a privilege I don't take for granted.

I also don't take for granted the wider circle of writers with whom I've come into contact over the past decade or so, including fellow writing colleague and Catholic mother Heidi Schlumpf. And I'm honored to feature Heidi on Peace Garden Writer this week -- the second writer mom to be featured there in this month of mothers. Heidi's beautiful book on the adoption process affirms that the "patience and faith" basis of the writing life often extends into other areas as well. I hope you'll hop over to Peace Garden Writer at the start of Wednesday morning to read about Heidi's journey into international adoption. See you there!

mama mondays: recital take two

Tomorrow, I'll be buzzing around in preparation for a trip to Minnesota to talk to students about the writing process. In the name of time and all that I have yet to do prior to departure, I'm posting early, a partial re-post from this time last year with the fresh addition of a video from today's piano recital.

May your week be filled with sweet music!

Peace Garden Mama

Daughterly Duet

This morning, you could not agree.
She said coffee, you said tea.
She said purple, you said green.
She said you and you said me.
Now, ebony and ivory
Have wooed you here so playfully.
Side by side, knee to knee,
Your hands along the pretty keys
Glide in perfect harmony
Bonding you in unity
Maybe for eternity.
(We’ll see…)

faith fridays: my son and a saint's son meet

"Our task is to make the truth visible and lovable in ourselves, offering ourselves as an attractive and, if possible, heroic example." -- Saint Gianna Beretta Molla

Saint Gianna was a mother as well as a medical doctor who lived in Italy from 1922-1962. As a young doctor, she once remarked, "The doctor should not meddle. The right of the child to live is equal to the right of the mother's life. The doctor cannot decide; it is a sin to kill in the womb." Years later when she became a mother herself, Gianna stayed true to her words, insisting that her child's life be spared when complications arose in her pregnancy, even though it meant hers might end as a result; which it did just days after the birth of her youngest child, Gianna Emanuela.

On Wednesday, my son met Gianna's son, Pierluigi.

November 1956: Pierluigi Molla is born to Pietro and Gianna Beretta Molla

(Pierluigi pictured here as a toddler with his mother)

November 2002: Adam Salonen is born to Troy and Roxane Salonen

April 21, 1962: Gianna gives birth to her fourth child, despite complications.

April 21, 1941: Adam's maternal grandmother is born.

April 28, 1962: Gianna dies at age 39 after seven days of intense suffering.

 

May 16, 2004: Blessed Gianna becomes Saint Gianna during a canonization ceremony by Pope John Paul II.

May 12, 2010: Gianna's oldest child and only son, Pierluigi, visits North Dakota from Italy as a special guest to honor his mother and the Saint Gianna Maternity Home in Warsaw, ND, which was named for her. Because of her affiliation with the home, Mrs. J. Eppler and her first-grade class leave their school grounds to take part in an invitation-only breakfast with Pierluigi at a Fargo hotel.

Adam, son of Roxane, meets Pierluigi, son of Gianna, the saint.

Wednesday was a high-energy day, with one of our family members anticipating his chance to hang out with the offspring of a saint. I'll be writing more about this blessed crossing in the future. Until then, to find out more about Saint Gianna, why she's so special, and her connection to North Dakota, go here.

Q4U: There are everyday saints all around us, as well as those canonized by the Church who serve as an inspiring example of what is possible when we live our lives for God. If you could dine with a saint, which one would you choose?

writing wednesdays: success!

When the clock strikes 12, you will not turn into a pumpkin, but you will be privy to some great lessons on success and the winner of my first-ever book giveaway on Peace Garden Writer!

And if you're sitting near your computer or radio from noon to 1 p.m. CST, join me on Real Presence Live (AM 1280 Moorhead-Fargo and 1370 Grand Forks), where I'll be the guest talking about a variety of Peace Garden Mama-ish topics for the station's "Spring Live Drive." If you're really feeling brave, call in and talk with me live!

Peace to you, and as always, thanks for stopping by...

mama mondays: may crowning and mother's day tea

I don't typically post twice in a 12-hour period, but I had to make an exception this time. In just a few hours from now, I'll be hosting a radio show on Real Presence Radio themed "All Things Mary," and one of my three guests will be Mrs. J. Eppler. Because I'll be interviewing Mrs. Eppler and talking about the lovely May Crowning and Mother's Day Tea she and her first-grade students host annually at our children's parochial school, I thought it might be nice to write up a post that includes visuals for the listening audience and others to go to after the show. So, here's an introduction to a Mother's Day event that I have been honored to experience four times so far in my life as a mother. I wouldn't miss it for the world!

First, the invitation arrives:

Then the special day. Each mother walks down the long hall toward her child's classroom, some of them knowing the treat that will soon unfold, others, experiencing it for the first time. She is greeted by her child, who is dressed in his or her Sunday best and holding out a rose. The rose is for her. She hugs her child. They go into the classroom together, where the other mothers are sitting in the darkened, candle-lit space in a large half-circle, their child at their knees. When everyone is assembled, the ceremony begins.

Children take turns doing their part -- the part they've been rehearsing now for weeks just for this day. It's all about honoring their mothers, and honoring the mother of all mothers, Our Blessed Mother, Mary. Without Mary, Jesus would not have come into the world. Without Jesus, we would not have a clear glimpse of who God is, as well as His abundant love and mercy for us. Yes, indeed, Mary is special, and all mothers are special.

The mothers are asked to place the roses in a vase below a statue of Mary. A priest says a blessing, then children continue with prayers and a song that they sing and sign in American Sign Language: "Mary Did You Know...that your baby boy...would one day walk on water...?" The mothers look down and see their sweet children carefully signing the song, a look of seriousness of their young faces. In the dark, they can see the other mothers wiping away tears, passing tissues.

It is a special moment as the mothers collectively realize their young children are just beginning their beautiful lives of possibility. Did Mary know all that Jesus would become and do? Do we know? Can we fathom the great things that are in store for our little ones?

After the song and prayers, after candles are placed by the children at Mary's feet, after Mary has been crowned with roses, the lights go on and the tea party begins with tea and cookies and excitement from the
 children, who have more surprises in store.

 

Gifts! Gifts for their mothers -- hand-written, hand-drawn cards to go with their gift of artwork on canvas.

Just when the mothers think they're filled up all they can be, Mrs. Eppler announces that she has been taking pictures of the children the whole year, and now, the mothers will be treated to a slideshow with music of all that their children have been doing, and how they've grown in their amazing year of first grade. More tears, more tissues, giggles and singing from the kids on the floor as the songs and images that have come to be familiar play.

The lights go back on, photos are snapped, and the students and moms say goodbye for the afternoon. Children skip out the door because they've been released early. Mothers' hearts dance with joy.

Thank you Mrs. Eppler! And thank you to our dear children who responded to her instruction with such grace, tenderness and love!