writing wednesdays: letting the cat out of the bag

That's right. I'm waking her up and letting her pop her head up out of that stale old bag. If you are fast on your feet, you'll find her over at Peace Garden Writer today.

Meow!

PGM

Parenting Perspectives: Living Life in the Depths of the Laundry Pit

[Out a few weeks ahead of schedule, my "April" column appeared unexpectedly today! Pleased to share it with you here. My parenting columns are printed monthly in The Forum, North Dakota's largest daily newspaper. Reprinted with permission.]

I’ve been dreaming of the good old days lately.

True, the modern-day parent has been afforded many luxuries, but who has the better deal when it comes to laundry: Today’s mother or Ma Ingalls?

The simple life looks mighty appealing on days I’m confined to the laundry pit, which seems more often than not lately.

While sorting colors and whites, nose pinched the closer I get to the bottom of a pile, I fantasize about each family member owning only two outfits – one for everyday use, another for special occasions.

Imagine the lessened drama with clothing choices at nil. Oh, to bid adieu to my days as a laundry slave.

If someone had warned me before motherhood how many articles of clothing would pass through my hands in a 24-hour period someday, I’d have written a Laundry Fairy into the contract.

Every season she’d go through all five of my kids’ drawers and closets, changing up the outfits to match the time of year, saving me hours of drudgery.

She’d also spot and stop stains. No more kids complaining about permanent discolorations on their white T-shirts.

During the day, she’d fly around the house collecting assorted towels, pajamas and underwear that hadn’t quite made it into the overstuffed hampers.

And at the end of the year when all the school uniforms start sporting holes in the knees, she’d go on a mending marathon, staving off the threat of a new school wardrobe just weeks before summer.

The other day my son demanded to know the location of a certain shirt, as if I could come up with that exact piece of the 12,645,329 spread throughout our home. “Sorry,” I said, “but Google Laundry hasn’t been invented yet.”

I admit now that my father was right all those years ago when he looked into my jam-packed teen closet and declared I had too many clothes.

The thing is, I’m not a shopper, and I try to keep my adult wardrobe simple. But with each person we’ve added to our family, I’ve sunk further into the pit of Laundry Hades.

When my husband recently asked why the kitchen had been neglected, he thought I was ignoring him with my silence. If he’d come downstairs, he’d have realized I’d been swallowed by the Laundry Monster, which, unfortunately, doesn’t vomit out its victims until the end of the laundry cycle.

Look, I realize how blessed I am to have children with clothes needing to be washed. But if one more asks me to magically produce a coveted article of clothing on the spot, I’ll have to tell them to “Put a stray sock in it!”

After all, we’ve got plenty of those to spare.

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: sending prayers across the river

Despite the fact that I'd decided to make Mondays a little quieter here during Lent, another reason to pop in at week's beginning has presented itself.

Vicky Westra, friend and blogger

The reason is my beautiful blogging friend Vicky. She posted a sweet comment on my blog a few days ago, prompting a reminder-to-self that I hadn't been over to visit in a few weeks. I always love Vicky's blog. It's real and well-written. It's one of those reads that lifts one's heart and soul, no matter what the topic or day.

Vicky and I met for the first time the end of 2010, a few months after we'd bumped into one another on the blogosphere. As soon as I realized that not only was she a gem of a person but she lived just a hop, skip and jump away on the other side of the Mighty Red River, I asked if she'd ever want to meet for lunch. Once our crazy schedules allowed it, we gathered one snowy afternoon for a midday meal overlooking the Red River at a place called Usher's in Moorhead, Minn. Our time together felt free and easy, as if we'd known each other for much longer than was the case. We swapped dreams as well as a few sorrows in our lives, some of them very similar in nature, and I walked out of the restaurant knowing that, once again, God had given me another unsolicited gift in this new friendship.

I was forewarned my recent trip to Vicky's blog would bring some news, so I dashed over to see what it might be, anticipating something celebratory in nature. But it was not that kind of news at all. Vicky has just learned she has an aggressive stage 3 breast cancer. Over the weekend, she found out the even more troubling news that the cancer has reached beyond the anticipated bounds and is now being labeled stage 4. (I hate when that word and number are paired up.)

Vicky is the mother of two rambunctious, handsome hockey-playing boys. Her openness to life and what it might bring has inspired me from the beginning. Her continued openness to life and what it might bring even in light of this disconcerting news has rendered me in a state of awe. I can't tell you how honored I feel to have met this amazing woman from the other side of the river.

Our river is rising and for that reason alone, we are in particular need of prayers in the Fargo-Moorhead area right now. But that seems suddenly secondary to the dramatic rise of worry in the Westra household. So I'm counting on you, dear readers, to throw in a few more petitions, this time for Vicky. My friend Carrie, also in the front lines of a cancer battle, remains in need of them, too.

You can find updates on Vicky at her blog here.

Q4U: Just as I asked when I introduced Carrie here, I'd like to ask you to share prayer requests that have emerged in the past few weeks. Let's spread the effectiveness of our prayers by leaning on one another in our times of worry and wonder.

faith fridays: the good in sin

 

I heard an interesting commentary on Catholic radio recently about the good in sin. Yes, you read that right. But hold on. I'm not saying that sin is good. I said the good in sin.

Think about it, and go back as far as you need to, even to that original sin; the one in the garden where Adam and Eve were offered some particularly juicy and delicious fruit. Now, there's nothing wrong with apples, is there? I love apples! I have a can of caramel sauce in our fridge to make them extra yummy. And my husband's grandmother makes the best apple pie in the world (I think extra cinnamon is her secret ingredient).

Apples are very good indeed. But we all know that the original apple was no regular piece of fruit. It was extraordinary; it promised all sorts of wonderful things. Knowledge for example. And what's wrong with a little knowledge? Not a thing, unless it comes at the wrong time.

Think of the knowledge you have as a parent. Is all of that information appropriate or even safe for your children? Not necessarily. Likewise, God knew that Adam and Eve couldn't handle the knowledge that had been presented to them, not because God was a mean God who wanted to deny His children something wonderful, but because He knew that it would hurt them to have this special knowledge at this time and in this place. 

The same is true of most sin. There are the exceptions, of course, but take the sin of stealing, for one. The good in this sin (not of this sin) might the desire to do well, to be successful. But of course with sin there's always that little twist, that bit of wrong that poisons the whole thing, makes it rotten.

It's easy to see in this one example that because there is a strain of good in most sin, we can easily be misled. We can be enticed by the good and not recognize the well of poison at the core.

Sin isn't the easiest thing to talk or even think about. Many people are repelled by the mere mention of it, even to the point of denial that it exists. Others have had sin jammed down their throats and simply go numb. Many have not been able to acknowledge their sins because it's painful to look inside and acknowledge we've chosen wrongly. Throw in a splash of good and it's easy to see why it can be tricky to fairly assess our sins.  

I think we're all guilty of this last one. It's a lifelong process to hold our failings up to the light and examine them for what they are, but it's a worthwhile endeavor to sort through the sin in our lives so that we can confess it and, in doing so, be free to more fully do God's will. It really is about love in the end.

I've worked hard to acknowledge the sin in my life and will continue to do so, but somehow, this understanding of the existence of good in sin has helped me realize just how tempting it can be to believe we're doing a good when, in fact, we're really bringing harm to ourselves and others through a certain action. Recognizing the good in sin helps me to understand why I have been drawn to it at different points in my life, and why it's so vitally important for me to take stock of which apples are truly healthy and which contain poison.

Lent is partially about taking stock of our fruit bins and ridding them of as many rotten apples as possible. That way, when Easter rolls around, we'll be more able to truly indulge in the banquet. 

Q4U: Is sin a topic you approach with hesitation, or do you welcome the chance to sort through your bin and clear the way toward a more fruitful existence?

writing wednesdays: flashing signs

Something's amiss; something unexpected. I've got a little more at Peace Garden Writer today. Not everything, but something. Thanks for taking a look!

PGM

mama mondays: update on baby joseph

Even though I've paused Mama Mondays during Lent, I did want to follow through on a post I shared several weeks ago regarding Baby Joseph, the infant whose life was in the balance at a Canadian hospital. I asked you to pray for him and his family, and those petitions have joined many others and the actions of Fr. Frank Pavone of Priests for Life, leading to removal of Baby Joseph from that hospital and his (likely) first air flight to the United States, where he is now in the care of American medical staff and his parents.

Here's the story as it was revealed on Fox News a week ago. Thanks again for your prays for Baby Joseph!

"A person's a person no matter how small," as Dr. Seuss once wrote. He certainly had that right!

And while I'm here (if I may), a shout-out to my one and only sister on her 44th birthday! Happy Birthday, Camille!

Camille and Roxane Beauclair, circa 1974

faith fridays: reaching out across the abyss

For the past several months, I've been in frequent touch with a non-believer; someone who considers herself an atheist, or more precisely, a naturalist. Her worldview is focused on science and what can be observed and understood through earthly means.

Our paths first crossed after my 13-year-old daughter had made the comment that it takes a wider leap of faith to believe there isn't a God than to believe God exists. I ended up blogging about that, and inadvertently met my new friend. We've been sending email messages back and forth on an almost-weekly basis ever since.

I know not every Christian would dare step into this terrain. And I wouldn't recommend it for just anyone. Of course, we all have the right to share and talk about our faith, but going head to head with someone skilled in debating such things is not for the faint of heart. Thanks be to God, my heart and soul are very strong right now and I feel capable and willing to do this. I've been given what I need to enter into this relationship with courage, conviction and compassion (perhaps the most important of the three). It's not always easy. Some of our conversations have left me utterly frustrated, and I know she feels the same. But most of the time the opposite is true, and I've felt blessed by our encounters.

Recently, one of my Christian friends said it would be very hard for her to be in such a conversation; that she doesn't feel the need to have to defend her faith to anyone. As I said earlier, I don't think everyone is cut out for this. For some, it would be a waste of time and energy. And it's possible I will get to a point at which it will begin to feel too burdensome, and that I'm taking too much time away from other important things. But for now, I'm drawn to the conversation, even on the tougher days, because I sense that God is in all of it, and that He'll let me know when and whether enough is enough. I have no expectations of what will come of our conversations other than the feeling that I'm in the right place right now.

For the time being, I feel fortunate to have had a chance to really work on finding common ground with someone whose belief system is so very different from my own. And believe it or not, we have found quite a bit of sameness. We are the same age and we are both sensitive yet convicted people. We examine life thoughtfully and try to be earnest about making the right choices based on our respective views.

Recently, I came across a line in the book I'm reading of Edith Stein's (St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross) personal letters. Among her gifts, Edith was a spiritual mentor to many, and in the middle of a letter in which she is responding to the faith questions of one of her fellow religious sisters, she says, "It is good when you ask me questions. I think only in response to challenges. Otherwise my mind rests. But I am glad when it is given a nudge and can be useful to someone." (Edith Stein: Self-Portrait in Letters, p. 319).

As she does so often, St. Teresa mimics my own heart here. In my current conversation with my non-believing friend, one of the benefits to me has been keeping my views sharp, but there's also a small strain of hope that someday my friend will be able to see God with her heart. For both of these reasons, I will continue reaching across the abyss for as long as I'm able.

Q4U: When have you reached across an abyss, and what was the result?

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Just wanted to pop in briefly with St. Patrick's Day greetings to all of my beautiful blog readers!

Do you celebrate St. Patrick's Day, and how? I have the corned beef and cabbage ready to be thrown into the Crockpot. I'm adding baby carrots and baby red potatoes for good measure as well. My sister is in town so should be able to join us for our green meal before heading back to her home in Central North Dakota.

At our school Mass today, our youngest, who bears the middle name of Patrick (after his great-great grandfather, Patrick Byrne), will be on the altar briefly to read one of the prayer petitions. It will be just a line but I'm so proud of him for being chosen for this very special task.

Thinking green thoughts for you all today!

PGM

writing wednedays: what happens in spiritwood...

You gotta love the small towns of North Dakota! They are filled with color and laughter and life! Don't believe me? Come join me in Spiritwood, where I experienced a fun author visit recently.

All of the day's events took place in this old school house

 Oh yeah, it's just a hop, skip and jump away at Peace Garden Writer. See you there!

faith fridays: happy lent!

[Note: I'd like to thank my friend Lisa Hendey for bringing me on board the crew sharing regular faith thoughts at CatholicMom.com. Every Friday of Lent (and hopefully beyond), my posts will be duplicated there. I'm looking forward to being a part of her excellent slate of faith columnists!]

 

Yes, that's right, Happy Lent!

Oh wait, I know. Lent begins with ashen crosses, involves sacrifice, and, when done really well, will include plenty of solitude with a bit of suffering sprinkled in - in generous amounts some years. So, what's with all the happy talk? 

Well, it's taken me a while, but my viewpoint of Lent has changed in recent years. Maybe it's spiritual maturity, or just having experienced enough Lents to see the bigger picture. But I've come to realize that Lent can be met with more joyful eagerness and less foreboding dread.

The other day, Ash Wednesday, I was sharing a bit about Lent through email with an atheist friend. Grasping my enthusiasm of this Church season, she signed off with, "Happy Lent!" In past years, I remember wanting to do the same - to end my Lenten notes with similar cheerfulness. But I would always question this, wondering whether my approach should be more solemn, or if I would be staying true to what Lent is supposed to be about.

My non-believing friend has never experienced Lent. She was simply reflecting back to me what I had shared with her, and she'd rightly picked up on my joy. But if there were any lingering doubts in my mind that Lent can and should be a happy time for Christians, they were dispelled when I began reading the introduction to Lent and Easter: Wisdom from Saint Benedict, by Judith Sutera, OSB.

"Happiness, not punishment or self-hatred, is the ultimate goal of any discipline, just as when one diets, exercises, or learns a skill," Sutera says. "To live a Lenten life is to look forward with joyful anticipation toward Easter. As each Lent culminates not with crucifixion but with resurrection, each Lenten life is also lived to transform and transcend one's own death to find eternal joy." (p. viii)

Aha! There it was - the affirmation I was seeking to avoid slogging through the season dragging a black cloud behind me. Though I've also experienced that kind of Lent, and may again at some point this season,  there's no reason to not believe that this Lent, like all others, will lead me both to and beyond the cross. I'm called to embrace the cross so that I might, one fine Easter day, look up and find that my Lord has risen. And if I've put enough of myself  into Lent, I will experience not only joy but a taste of the glory of the life to come.

I spent the first hour of Ash Wednesday in a beautiful church filled with hundreds of Catholic school students grades 6-12. I heard an energetic homily by the school chaplain who began with, "Are you ready to go into battle?" and challenged us to approach Lent with tireless enthusiasm. I listened to sweet music from the choir loft, the voices of young angels in harmony, and was nearly brought to tears by the sheer gift of it. And then I walked in a line with the others to receive my ashes and be reminded of my imperfections, as well as my dependence on a loving God who has all my best interests in mind.

"By the way, you've got a smudge on your forehead," a drive-thru attendant told me not long after that Mass. When I realized he was talking about my ashen cross, I said, "Oh, thank you. I'm Catholic and it's Ash Wednesday, but I appreciate your good intention. Any other day, I would have been relieved you were honest enough to point it out!"

Even in that small exchange, I felt joy. It's a beautiful life we Christians lead. God gave us this season so that we might let go of the excess and be refreshed in that; to give ourselves permission to love more deeply, and yes, even experience happiness.

May your Lenten journey be both meaningful and sprinkled with generous doses of happy!

Q4U: Do you dread or look forward to Lent, and why?

writing wednesdays: it started here on peace garden mama!

Well, I have to thank you all for your comments on the post I wrote a while ago on Bieber Fever. That post turned into the inspiration for my most recent Forum column. So, some of this might ring familiar, though it's not entirely the same. In other words, you are witnessing the writing process in action, right here on Peace Garden Mama. Indeed, this is how a column comes to be. First, a few nuggets of ideas, perhaps an essay, maybe a blog post, and then, if further refinement takes place, it might just get a shot at the big time.

Enjoy! (BTW, you have to jump over to Peace Garden Writer to see it...)

PGM

faith fridays: baby joseph - the best way for a baby to die

Not a pleasant subject, I fully realize, but one some parents will face: the death of a child.

If you haven't heard the story yet, the bare basics are this: a 1-year-old baby boy in Canada with a neurodegenerative disease is going to die. His parents would prefer he die at home. They know that a tracheotomy would relieve him somewhat and possibly give him more time. (The same was afforded his sibling, a sister, who died several years ago but lived six months after having a tracheotomy performed and being brought home.) From what it looks like, the hospital is sticking to its guns and is not going to allow the parents their final wishes for their child.

I realize the situation is a bit more complicated than what one paragraph will allow, and there are myriad angles and perspectives to consider. But what I want to focus on today is the fact that each day that Baby Joseph lives is a blessing, and as such, especially considering the grieving the parents have already endured, I ask the question: Why not allow them the chance to do what they fervently believe will be the best way for their baby to spend his final months, weeks, hours or days?

When I lost my baby to miscarriage in 1999, I deeply felt the emptiness of my arms and heart. One day more would have been better, I thought. I felt envy creeping in over anyone who had delivered a baby to term, even those whose children had died shortly after birth. How lucky they seemed to me. At least they got to hold their child! Each day more that a person had with his or her child seemed like such a tremendous blessing. I would have done anything to have one more day, even though I know it never would have been enough.

I realize now that even parents whose children die at an older age feel this way. One more minute, one more hour, one more day would have meant so much. Each second of our lives, and those of the people around us, is precious and possible only because of the loving God who sustains us, who puts in motion our every breath. We are not guaranteed tomorrow, not to mention our next inhale.

That's why this story has become so huge. It's about one child, yes, but it's about all of humanity, in the end, and how we view life and its value. Baby Joseph is a microcosm of the rest of the world and how tenderly (or not) it treats its fellow citizens.

If the medical world exists to do what it can to sustain life then I'm not sure I see what the issue is here. Why not just do the tracheotomy and let Baby Joseph go home to die enveloped in the love of his family?

To be honest, I don't think the medical community is fully prepared to handle such situations. To give them some benefit of the doubt, their training is focused on keeping patients alive. So what happens when that's not possible? At what point do you surrender, and how?

Please keep Baby Joseph and his parents in your prayers, as well as all parents in similar situations. As a mother of five, I know very well how tangled life can become in day-to-day living alone. But when I consider what Joseph and his parents are up against right now, I'm feeling pretty fortunate.

Q4U: If you could speak to Baby Joseph's parents today, what would you say?

To read more, go here or here.

writing wednesdays: a diving pelican

Yep, that's what you'll find over at Peace Garden Writer today.

Now go into it!

PGM