mama mondays: small moment of triumph

 

Last week, my column about life in a big family was published in our local daily newspaper. I enjoyed the comments that followed, both on my blog and through email. We big families need all the affirmation we can get. It's not always the easiest course raising a larger than normal brood, that's for sure.

In fact, earlier on in the journey, when we were in the thick of growing our family, we received our fair share of, let's say, less-than-supportive comments about our "expansion project." It didn't help that there were times we both felt like we had stepped into quicksand and were at risk of sinking further and further into an abyss, a place where light and clarity was hard to come by.

I guess I want most of all to encourage families of small children, especially those carrying a larger than normal load, to know that things do get easier and the fog eventually dissipates.

This weekend, I experienced a moment of that fog-lift. It was when we were getting ready to head back to Fargo from our Thanksgiving visit in Bismarck. Having brought two vehicles to make room for some Christmas gifts that were being sent back with us, we realized the kids could split up rather than cram into one vehicle as was necessary on the way up.

"Let's say boys in one car, girls in another," Dad suggested. The idea was met with all kinds of thumbs-up. It was easily accepted -- not a nay in the house -- that this would be the very best arrangement of them all. Progesterone in one vehicle. Testosterone in the other. Agreed!

The progesterone-carrying vehicle stopped at the coffee-house drive-thru on the way out of town. The testosterone-filled rig made a pit-stop at a burger joint somewhere along the way, I'm fairly certain. Our girlie van played Christian and pop music. I'm afraid to ask what was coming through the speakers in the boy vehicle, but sometimes, it's just better to not know.

What I do know is that we each had our own little party in our respective rigs, and everything seemed right with the world for an afternoon. It was one of those moments when I felt that, despite all the imperfections of life in a big family, it's all so very worth it. No one was left feeling lonely, and all needs seemed to be met, even if only for a few hours.

So, if you're still a few paces behind and feeling like the load is going to tip you over sideways, hang in there. Someday soon, you will be giving thumbs-up to one another in a small moment of triumph.

Q4U: What small moment of triumph did you experience this weekend?

faith fridays: will the real first thanksgiving please stand up?

In recent years, I've become conflicted about Thanksgiving.

Let me clarify: I've become conflicted about the idea of Thanksgiving the way it was presented to me as a child. Back then, I accepted the cartoon version of pilgrims and American Indians coming together harmoniously, sharing the fruits of the land in a feast of plenty. It was a Peaceable Kingdom of sorts where everyone got along beautifully, all differences set aside for the sake of celebration and a hearty meal.

In time, however, I began to be challenged by that version of Thanksgiving. I realized most American Indians likely were not rejoicing over the history of their having been descended upon by the European "white man" and life as they knew it destroyed. Although I realize there were many peaceful encounters during those earliest years, there were many others that ended in bloodshed. To some, it was closer to Holocaust than Happy Days.

So I can no longer, in good conscience and with respect to my friends from the reservation where I grew up, be satisfied with "that" Thanksgiving celebration. At the same time, I've come to a place of peace within myself over what this holiday means -- to me.

Let's start there. Holiday. Holy Day. Even though I challenge the traditional story of Thanksgiving as a cause for celebration, I still believe there is merit in maintaining this Holy Day in its own right. Certainly not because of the bloodshed of the American Indian but because of another who shed His blood.

 The Last Supper scene from Passion of the Christ

I'm bringing it all back to Faith. Eucharist literally means Thanksgiving. As such, the real Thanksgiving was instituted at the Last Supper -- the real holy feast. In that banquet we were given the greatest gift of all on earth -- the promise that God would be with us until we could be with Him again in eternity. Every time we partake in the Eucharist, we receive an injection of grace that has the potential to help us move through the suffering of this world with hope in our hearts.

So while I reject Thanksgiving as it was first presented to me, I heartily embrace the notion of a celebration that acknowledges love, family and a coming together to remember the awesome gifts we've been given: one another, one more day, and a God who loves us with such depth that He would not consider an earthly exit without leaving a tangible part of Himself with us.

I also find it the perfect time to think of those who cannot come together and feast, who do not have the gift of a warm home with all the necessities. This includes many of the poverty-stricken on the reservations across our land.

Lord, thank you for all of my blessings, including life itself and the richness of a life lived not for earthly treasures but spiritual vitality. Thank you for all the trials I've come through to bring me to this place of deep and true gratitude. Help me to help others find peace and contentment, especially through knowing You and your deep love for all your children. Amen.

thanksgiving 2010

writing wednesdays: nyt bestselling author judith dupre' shares takes on Mary

The above, a photograph/painting by John Nava, is one of the visual treasures displayed in the latest book of New York Times bestselling author Judith Dupre's, Full of Grace: Encountering Mary in Faith, Art and Life. It's a depiction of Mary, mother of Jesus, as a teen. There's more over on Peace Garden Writer, where Judith is November's guest. Grab a cup of coffee or tea and enjoy!

And by the way, Happy Thanksgiving!

PGM

how i said 'happy anniversary' to my husband this morning

It's never lined up like this before, but this year my monthly parenting column was slated to run in The Forum  today, which happens to be my and my hubby's wedding anniversary. So, instead of a card, this is how I wished him a Happy Anniversary. And yes, it was a surprise!

Parenting Perspectives: 

Minivan is full, so is life 

By Roxane B. Salonen, The Forum 

Frequently, my household is faced with the reality of being a five-kid family in a two-kid world.

For instance, a recent newspaper ad for a “family special” at a local bowling alley promised four pairs of bowling shoes, a single-topping pizza and a pitcher of soda for just $19.95.

I imagined the scene: We’ve each got bowling shoes on one foot and socks on the other (with an extra shoe for a friend if they fit into the minivan). Assuming our teen son reaches the pizza first, we’ll get some crust. As for the pop, Dixie cups anyone?

Perhaps the ad should read, “Family Special (for ideal-sized families).”

In restaurants everywhere, announcements abound with “kids eat free” specials. But enter the fine print: “… with accompanying adult meal.” I’m tempted to borrow three extra adults so we can take advantage of the offer just once.

When stopping in the fast-food lane, I’ve taken to prefacing our orders with, “This will be big,” in the hopes of decreasing the high frequency of bags with missing items, not to mention teardrops from children already feeling slighted from having to split their fries.

Speaking of food issues, recently a friend was bemoaning her husband’s tendency to hoard and hide food. “How many were in his family of origin?” I asked. “He was six of seven.”

Enough said.

In our home, Pop-Tarts and potato chips grow legs upon first touch-down in our kitchen. The kids have learned that if they don’t act before their siblings do, they’ll be left without having nibbled a single Pringle.

Of course, we’re well aware we’ve set ourselves up. Having crossed the line of “normal-sized family,” consequences are inevitable. But a few perks also enter in.

Among those is planning birthday celebrations when we realize half the party already has an invitation. Or how we’re afforded a whole pew to ourselves at church. (We’ve also been credited for providing endless entertainment for the lucky souls sitting behind us.)

Recently, my husband expressed his satisfaction over having accepted our riches in people not things. And even though life in a large family can be a bit more of everything – including messy – there are also exponentially more chances to learn how to love, even if it’s through trial-by-fire.

Surviving it all as a parent requires an occasional attaboy, so lately Troy and I have been noting our successes by knocking each other’s knuckles in a sign of triumph. We follow this with our fingers cascading downward in a tandem motion dubbed “sparkles” by our teen daughter.

Yes, we’ve managed to do a few things right in our years together, so it seems as good a day as any on this, our 19th wedding anniversary, to say: “Happy anniversary, Hon, with knuckles and sparkles all around!”

Roxane B. Salonen works as a freelance writer and children’s author in Fargo, where she and her husband, Troy, parent five children. She blogs on family life at http://peacegardenmama.areavoices.com.

mama mondays: slippery birthday

Our sweet second son will turn eight soon. Not yet, but soon enough. We celebrated his birthday this weekend, since his real birthday will take place over the Thanksgiving break. It was his first-ever swimming party, and by all accounts it seems to have been a hit.

  

 

Well, most accounts anyway. Little brother felt a little slighted a few times throughout the day:

Adam was born a day before Thanksgiving. I had my Thanksgiving meal that year under a silver dome with processed turkey and fake mashed potatoes. It was delicious. I'd worked hard (he came before the epidural had a chance to take effect) and felt so relieved and thankful. He was such a beautiful boy and we were so blessed by his arrival.

Thinking back on the birthday party, I can easily begin compiling a Thanksgiving gratitude list based on Sunday's party alone. I'm thankful my children have good friends with whom they can share their lives, and for the chance to kick back and shinny down a slide every once in a while, and for daughters who help me prepare for such events (my oldest made the birthday brownies -- they were to die for!), and finally, for a husband who is willing to sit near me poolside at a crazy eight-year-old birthday pool party and just smile at it all.

Yep, life is pretty good!

Q4U: When was the last time you slid down a slide?

faith fridays: he who walks with giant's steps

  

The creek at Boyds Mills, PA

I've just started reading Self-Abandonment to Divine Providence by Fr. J.P. de Caussade, S.J.  The book is a translation, from the original French text, undertaken in 1959. The writings themselves have been around much longer.

Because the content is so rich, every paragraph packed with meaning, I'm consuming this book in small bites, and as I go, I hope to share some of my thoughts with you all on Fridays.

Here's a little sampling from page 22:

"The life of faith is nothing else than a continual pursuit of God through everything that disguises, misrepresents and, so to speak, destroys and annihilates him...

"Hasten then always, faithful souls, happy and tireless after your beloved Spouse who walks with giant's steps from one end of the heavens to the other; nothing is hidden from his sight. He walks over the tiniest blades of grass as well as over cedars. He passes over grains of sand as well as over mountains. Wherever you can step, he has passed, and in order to find him wherever you may be, you have but to pursue him incessantly."

"How delightful the peace one enjoys when one has learned by faith to see God in this way through all creatures as through a transparent veil! Darkness becomes light and bitterness sweet. Faith by showing us the truth of things changes their ugliness into beauty and their malice into goodness: faith is the mother of gentleness, confidence and joy; she can have only tenderness and compassion towards her enemies who enrich her so greatly at their own cost."

How I love these words! I love the imagery of God as a giant walking over the small earth, as well as His light-footed trek among the smallest blades of grass. First off, to picture God's largeness and the fact that He still wishes to be among us...that's just an amazing thought. No matter how small we may be and feel, we are not unimportant to our Creator.

I have been feeling this tenderness with which God deals with us and our concerns on the earth lately. Since the passing of my friend Roberta last week, some small miracles have taken place, and in them, I have recognized the caring face of God. As a witness to this, I can't help but be in awe all over again at His great love and compassion for His children in their suffering.

I also love the final paragraph, that reality that in and through faith, everything is turned upside down. Death turns into life. Sadness becomes a cause for hope and joy. And evil cannot triumph, even when it appears as if it's having its way.

Oh, what a beautiful faith we have, that the Giant of all Giants would stoop down and stroke our hair, look into our eyes, and say, "See how much I love you?"

Q4U: How has God said "I love you!" to you this week?

writing wednesdays: what van gogh can teach us

I'm a girl who can't get enough sunflowers. Yep, I'm North Dakotan through and through at this point in my life.

The above is one of the paintings of the famous artist, Vincent van Gogh. I'm melding art and writing on Peace Garden Writer this week, offering a few thoughts on what this wise man can teach us as we move along in the writing journey.

See you soon!

mama mondays: precious gifts left behind

It was a card at the bottom of a pile, stained with dried liquid. While sifting through the two-months' worth of items in our minivan's jungle of junk, I nearly missed it.

Then, on a lark, I opened the envelope with my name and address on the front, expecting to find little more than an outdated invitation for a birthday party already passed. Instead, I found the note Roberta had sent a few months back, just before her cancer took a turn for the worst.

A simple thank-you note turned to gold in my hands as I read the beautiful expressions of gratitude from this mother-faith friend who passed on to eternal life last Tuesday.

How had she found the time? How does someone about to leave this world summon the energy to turn to others and let them know they've been appreciated? I had not expected a note. The gift was small and unconditional, and yet she'd found a way to turn it into a moment of grace for me.

Just before my blogging friend Emilie Lemmons died in December of 2008, instead of skipping Christmas cards that year, she did her best to get as many hand-written notes as she could out into the world. She was intent on letting the people she loved know it. And now, those who received her words treasure them as no other. They are among the precious gifts left behind.

My grief is only beginning to sink in. I was not as close to Roberta as some. We met through a mutual friend in 2000, at that friend's funeral. Roberta was like a light that kept the memory of my other friendship alive. But I also loved her by her own worth. She was a fellow mother of five with a strong faith and great love for her family. I admired her deep values and commitment to Christ, of "living simply so others might simply live." On those points, we always hit it off, and I know that if we'd had more time, we would have had many more points of agreement.

It wasn't nearly enough time, and yet I feel so fortunate to have been in her presence, even for a little while.

This weekend was taken up with basketball tournaments, a church fall festival, a fundraiser for another friend whose daughter has Cystic Fibrosis, and Roberta's prayer service and funeral. At the latter two, I had a chance to meet Roberta's beautiful children for the first time, to receive not one but two giant hugs from one of her sons, to hear her oldest son speak of his mother's last words on this earth, which she had directed at him: "I love you."

Following Saturday's funeral, another of Roberta's sons (there are four plus a daughter) headed to the state football championship with the rest of his team and coaches. It was hard to comprehend how in the morning, he watched his mother's body be laid to rest, and by evening, he was experiencing his team's shot at the  championships.

With one second left in the game, the score was tied 21-21. A field-goal kick by our team would determine the outcome. When I saw on TV that the football had made it, had cleared field-goal range, I jumped for joy, squealing with happiness, despite being in a public place. Yes, it's great to know your school's team has won a state championship. But it's even better believing it may have happened because a mother's love transcends time and place.

I don't know whether saints really care or have the power to effect the outcome of a high-school state championship. I do know that Roberta cares for and loves her children, and that if she was given any influence at all over the game's outcome, she may very well have had a hand in nudging that football to victory just to see her son smile.

Roberta, thanks for reminding me you're still with us. And thanks for making me smile, too.

If you have some time this week and would like to hear my interview with Roberta on Catholic radio from this past summer, you'll find it here, #40 on the left bottom corner of the podcast section. 

Q4U: What are ways you've become convinced that a loved one's spirit is still alive and among us?

faith fridays: the secret to true peace

On Tuesday, my mother-writer-faith friend Roberta passed from this life to the next. We knew the end was near and yet such an event can never be completely anticipated. Whoosh, she’s gone. And here it comes: swift punch to the gut. Oh, and now that, too: the void, the loud, long, dark hole.

Without faith, that is where things remain. With it, something else happens. The opening makes way for new life, perspective, an incredible outpouring of love. The seed planted in death begins to sprout above the earth, slowly but surely. More becomes possible because of a life that was lived in God’s light.

It’s been interesting these last couple days. In letting the special people in my world know of this loss to explain why I might be a little quieter than usual, I’ve been sprinkled with a bouquet of sweet words and thoughts. But despite the loss, I already feel the gain, and because of that, my soul is at ease in this death. Yes, Roberta is gone, but only from our sight. I still feel her soul at my back, and in the smile that lingers even in her absence, the one she offered so generously and with such authenticity.

The secret to true peace, even in death, is an abiding trust in the things we cannot see but choose to believe. This can apply to all situations that do not go as we hope, even the small day-to-day disappointments. By surrendering all to the God who set us into motion, we can truly find an inward, real, lasting peace that surpasses all suffering and unrest.

The saints and Fathers of the Church expressed this well. They have paved a way to our ability to more deeply understand this mystery. How fortunate we are to have their examples and expressions at our disposal, hundreds of years after their time.

Here, for example, are thoughts from a man who lived from the late 1500s to the early 1600s, St. Francis de Sales. Once again, the credit for bringing this to my attention goes to my friend Maria, who leads a Catholic writers’ email list of which I am a part. I pray this beautiful reflection will help you let go of all worry today and find true peace:  

"Strive to see God in all things without exception, and acquiesce in His will with absolute submission. Do everything for God, uniting yourself to Him by a mere upward glance, or by the overflowing of your heart towards Him. Never be in a hurry; do everything quietly and in a calm spirit. Do not lose your inward peace for anything whatsoever, even if your whole world seems upset. Commend all to God, and then lie still and be at rest in His bosom. Whatever happens, abide steadfast in a determination to cling simply to God, trusting to His eternal love for you; and if you find that you have wandered forth from this shelter, recall your heart quietly and simply. Maintain a holy simplicity of mind, and do not smother yourself with a host of cares, wishes, or longings, under any pretext."  --Saint Francis de Sales

[From www.SilentInsight.com]

Q4U:  What word or thought most brings you peace?

mama mondays: the flowering of a new reader

My mother-in-law took these pictures last month when I was away at a writing workshop in Pennsylvania. It brought such joy to my heart to see images of kids #3 and #4 reading to kid #5, apparently helping him to sound out words, in my faraway location. It brought me close to them in an instant and kept me high the rest of the stay.

This weekend, our little one slipped into bed with us (as he often does). I woke up Sunday morning to this:

"Mom, does R-O-X spell Rox?"

(He was looking up at a caricature of my husband and I pinned to a nearby bulletin board. It was taken in our first year of marriage and the artist had written "Rox" below the drawing of me.)

"It does," I said.

"Okay, and does B-L-U-D spell blood?"

(Not exactly sure the source of that question...)

"Almost, but not quite. Blood is B-L-O-O-D. It seems like it should be B-L-U-D, though, huh? But O-O can also make the 'uh' sound, just like U can."

It's never quite so evident how little sense our English language makes until you try to explain it to a five-year-old. Some things just can't be explained well. But either way, I'm thrilled he's trying. He's sounding out words on his own, not only by looking at them but by imagining them in his mind and sounding them out. What a phenomenal process, if you think about it, considering everything that has to work together in order for that to happen. Soon, he'll be reading real books by himself. Soon also I'll have no one to read to in our household who can't already read by themselves. That's a bit of a bittersweet thought.

But oh how I delight in this discovery of words that our kids have come upon one by one. Bumping into the world of words is among the greatest discoveries of all, next to the realization of how we came to be, the source of our being, God.

We've been experiencing a few parenting challenges recently, and I have to grab onto these positive moments because the struggles can be so difficult. I won't be blogging about these things anytime soon -- I think it's wise to be discerning when it comes to matters involving family (unless I've garnered permission first) -- but I'm not above asking for a prayer or two. I've seen other ways in which the blogging world can bring about meaningful connections, after all. Why not through prayer as well? Even if I can't share exactly how things are unfolding, at the very least I'll check back later and let you know the ways in which God entered our life during this time. I don't know how it will all turn out but I'm convinced God will play an integral part.

Blessings, and have a week filled with sprinklings of beauty!

PGM

faith fridays: mark zuckerberg's life in light of faith

Last weekend, my husband and I were lured to the movie theatres by a special deal. Marcus was celebrating its 75th anniversary and offering us movie tickets, popcorn (yes, buttered) and pop for only $7.50.

After discussing our options of which movie to watch, we finally settled on one I’ve been hoping to see – The Social Network. Though Troy isn’t a huge fan of Facebook, I saw the potential for the story behind the making of the social networking giant to be interesting, if nothing else.

We both found it fascinating. The story behind the story had our rapt attention through the very end. It was one of those films I continued to think about even days afterward.

But I’m not sure my reasons for being transfixed are the same as the typical movie-goer. For me, the questions that arose during and after the movie centered on faith. It’s become very hard for me not to scrutinize movies, songs and other media from that vantage point. The more I form my conscience in faith, the more my reactions to the outside world are influenced by that wider view.

Aside from a brief hint of Zuckerberg’s Jewish heritage, faith plays no obvious role in the emotion-charged story of how this young college student started Facebook, and what lengths he went to in order to grow the company, in a relatively short time, into what it is today.

More than a tale about how a company got its start, to me this film was about human nature, especially the kinds of things that can drive and tempt us. It was very much about human interactions and relationships, of strength and weakness and how one can look like the other at times. It was about the quest to find meaning in this life.

But within that premise, a problem emerges. There are limits to seeking our ultimate purpose in this world alone. And by the movie’s end, we glimpse that as we watch Zuckerberg sitting alone in a room with a laptop, hoping to hear back on a Facebook friend request after being sued for stealing ideas and making false promises during his hasty rise to the top. We sense that despite his phenomenal success, Zuckerberg does not have it all after all. In fact, he seems quite lacking in the essential human connections one needs to have true and abiding peace.

Nevertheless, I’m interested in his life, and I found myself wondering about his family background. What are his parents like? Did he grow up with siblings? What factors helped nurture his technical genius?

Anyone would be hard-pressed to not be impressed with Zuckerberg’s mind as it was portrayed in the film. What he pulled off was nothing short of astounding. Even without realizing the full implication of what he was undertaking, he helped fill a gap in our society and world; a gap of disconnect that has begun to be filled, even if imperfectly, with Zuckerberg’s contribution known as Facebook.

Through his efforts, Zuckerberg has become the youngest billionaire in the world, and Facebook continues to expand, but at what point will it be enough to satisfy Zuckerberg? At what point will he feel a sense of peace? When you’re at the top of the world at age 26, where is there to go? With this in mind, even while being impressed by Zuckerberg’s brilliance, I sense a steady darkness lurking below the surface of his life.

I can’t deny that Facebook has been mostly a positive force in my own life, that it has added dimensions to my relationships that would not have been possible even five years ago. But I’m also disturbed by the massive amount of power one young person has garnered, and whether he’ll really be able to use it to the greater good. If Zuckerberg isn't able to acknowledge the source of his talents and gifts at some point, it’s all emptiness.

I cannot judge Zuckerberg’s heart. I don’t know what stirs him from within. But if the movie portrayal of this young man comes close to the truth, I can’t help but be concerned for Zuckerberg. It’s quite possible he’s heading for a fall; if not a financial one then the kind that follows a endless thirst for affirmation that cannot be quenched through worldly means.

Q4U: What worldly things do you see differently through the eyes of faith?

writing wednesdays: the places we meet

It's Writing Wednesdays! I'm at Peace Garden Writer today reflecting on what feels to me to be an essential component of the writing life.

Thanks for the double-click today!

PGM

mama mondays: all hallows eve here

 

  

   

 

 

  

 

TRICK OR TREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAT!