writing wednesdays: suspense

Something kept me in suspense for most of the summer, but what was it?

Find out in a jiffy on Peace Garden Writer, where my August newspaper parenting column has been posted for your viewing pleasure.

If you do stop by, let me know you've visited. That always makes me smile. :)

mama mondays: back to school 2011-12

As of this week, the school year is now officially underway.

We had orientation on Monday, and by Wednesday all five kiddos were back at it full force.

No longer at the bottom of the elementary totem pole, our youngest was thrilled to be going back for his second year. Kindergartner Days begone! He's exuding more self-confidence and plenty of excitement about the year to come:

Okay, now for something a little more subdued.

I didn't even bother with the photo that included their teen brother. It would have spoiled things. He refuses to smile and I didn't want to bring a cloud to what was an exciting morning full of fresh starts. (Besides, I need to save some of those goodies for his graduation or wedding Powerpoint presentation...)

Our middle girl is in middle school now. So I'm going to have to pay closer attention to the needs of the little boys. Last year, she handled a lot of that for me, little mommy that she is. Time for the real mama to snap into place!

This is a tradition; the little boy in back was borrowing a piece of our background.

Finally, we made it into the rooms. Our youngest has the same teacher all of his siblings have had. We love her and suspect it will be a very good year.

They don't have chairs to mess with; the students stand all day. Their teacher says this is really the best way to go about it with wiggly kids. It will be interesting to see if there are any complaints. I'm thinking the kids will like the standing thing, especially my kinetic son, who has a hard time being still for long durations.

The beginning of the year is always full of promise. I love the energy of the excited children. I love the quieter house and a little more brain space. I love the possibility of what's to come.

Q4U: What's your favorite first-day-of-school memory?

faith fridays: laying up treasures in heaven

Matthew 6:19-21: Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where  neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there will you heart be also.” 

Our family’s end-of-summer getaway to Itasca State Park in Minnesota a couple weeks ago was brief, but long enough for us to experience several moments of summertime bliss.

Some of my favorite moments took place when there was no real plan, other than to hang out at the “beach” for a couple hours. But it took a while for the kids to adjust to the fact that they would have to entertain themselves.

Earlier, Dad had gotten out the "big yellow banana" (kayak) and the youngest three had gotten their fill of that. But now that it was packed away again, how could the afternoon possibly have anything at all to offer? 

It didn’t take long before our youngest had discovered the magic of clear lake water revealing the myriad rocks just below the surface, glistening as they were from the sun overhead. “Look at THIS one!!!” he’d say, then claim it for his own. One by one, he collected his treasures as if they were precious gems. One rare stone, and another, and soon a whole pile of them had been rounded up on a nearby bench – along with a random bobby pin.

Snail shells rounded out his finds.

He was one happy camper by the time we were called away. After all, he'd be bringing a piece of the lake home with him!

More than any other time during our stay, these couple of hours with me on the shore and the kids in the water discovering the little surprises of nature were among the most memorable. Soon, I let go, too, and began to relax. I even stretched out for a bit, closed my eyes, and allowed my body to go still...

During the time I was in this position, my eight-year-old was playing nearby, but not realizing I was observing him. He’d come ashore for a break from the water and was slowly covering his arms in sand. He hummed while the transformation was taking place. Occasionally he would look at his sand-covered arms and say things like, “Oh no, what’s happening? I’m turning into a monster!” Then he’d rush out to the lake to rinse them. There, good as new!

I can’t help but think of these moments as those in which the laying up of treasures in heaven was in motion.

Snorkeling with straws at the Mississippi Headwaters

Though it did cost a couple dollars to get into the park, and more for our cabin, during this time of no TV, radio or anything to keep us connected to the everyday, the world was our oyster. Seeing my children breathe in the end of summer in such a carefree way was worth more to me than the most brilliant diamond.

Daddy Troy playing guitar out on the screened-in porch

Peeking through the screen of the cabin window

Q4U: What is worth its weight in gold to you at this time in your life?

writing wednesdays: becoming a better person

Sometimes, it's just good to look at things from the perspective of a fellow writer who's been there. I'm borrowing the wisdom of a writer named Dubus today to help me encourage you.

See here!

And happy writing and living!

PGM

mama mondays: snug like a bug in a rug

My mother-in-law and I are alike in many ways, including our propensity for lugging our cameras with us everywhere we go; especially when we're apt to be on an adventure, in new surroundings, or hanging out with our loved ones.

So it was not a surprise that Mom #2, as I often call her, brought her camera along this weekend during a 24-hour visit to Fargo, and that she happened to have it in the wee hours when three of her small grandsons were sacked out on the floor of the hotel room where she and my father-in-law were staying. Two of these "bugs" are mine; the other is a spare (our nephew) who tagged along as the "surprise." In this photo, we have ages 6, 7 and 8 accounted for. They get along famously and, though a little rambunctious after their time at the hotel pool and slide, finally settled down peacefully, wrapped warmly in the embrace of hotel bedding and the contentment of a day well-lived, and with loved ones surrounding.

I shared this image on Facebook and it elicited a lot of precious responses. When I look at it, I think of familiar phrases: Three Peas in a Pod, Piggies in a Blanket, The Three Amigos, Snug like a Bug in a Rug. It seemed one deserving of another round.

Q4U: What woos you into a deep sleep?

faith fridays: 'a tiny whispering sound'

In the first Book of Kings, read a few weeks ago at Mass (9: 91, 11-13a), we were reminded of a time Elijah was at the Mountain of God, Horeb, standing before a cave where he'd come to find shelter. While there, the Lord God spoke to him, saying, "Go outside and stand on the mountain before the Lord; the Lord will be passing by."

Soon, a "strong and heavy wind was rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the Lord - but the Lord was not in the wind." Not long after, an earthquake came, "but the Lord was not in the earthquake." After that, a fire came, "but the Lord was not in the fire."

It wasn't until after the fire that things came together for Elijah, for that is when "a tiny whispering sound" emerged. "When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak and went and stood at the entrance of the cave."

I think of Elijah, recognizing at last that despite his expectations, God was not going to speak most directly to him in a loud booming voice, but in a quiet one. To me, the visual of Elijah hiding his face in his cloak shows his humility in submitting to God's will and ways.

How often have we expected God to come howling into our lives? How often have we, in fact, demanded just that, only to find that God, instead, brushes past our ears ever so quietly on a whisper?

I am learning this, more and more, and like Elijah, I recognized God's voice through the "tiny whispering sounds" that happened during a recent family vacation at Itasca State Park in Minnesota.

Yes, I felt God's embrace in the loudness of family life, too, but even more than that, He sent sweet little messages to me in whispered breaths.

Like this one...a scene I came upon our first evening there. It was a spot below our cabin, and the lighting was just right. And God's voice, as I looked out onto the glassy lake -- an image that took my breath away -- was clear and bright.

And this one...the sight of a vessel, seemingly out of nowhere: a surprise! Sometimes it's hard to have to wait, and guess as to how things might turn out. But sometimes, the surprises in life are the best moments of all.

And this one...the looking up at and through towering trees and the feeling of my smallness as I stand below. To me, this says "awe." Not a scary kind of awe, but an awesome, exhilarating kind of awe.

Or this one...the exquisite curling of white bark, and in the distance, the son curling, too, closing in on the day; ethereally bringing goodness to the coming night.

This one, too, came on whispers, and still nearly makes me dizzy to look upon it. The reflection of clouds and branches merging with real branches creates an illusion of thinness between where land ends and sky begins. I sense the closeness of the eternal.

When I headed up to the cabin, I looked back by chance and caught wind of God's subtle "Goodnight" embrace, which warmed me and sent me softly into the evening.

 The next day, at the headwaters of the Mississippi River, God returned in the cattails...

And in the clarity of rocks below clear water...

As well as in a duck that trusted me for a while...

And my boys' excited sounds as they conducted an experiment of "snorkeling with straws," not to mention a purple wildflower...

Yes, God reaches us through humor, too, such as in this flower I caught on the way out. I couldn't help but think of Dr. Seuss.

We are so depleted, so in need of the whispered messages that are every bit as powerful as the loud roars of thunderstorms and cracks of lightning that accompanies them. These whispers might come quietly, but they resound deeply.

Q4U: What message of significance came to you on a whisper?

writing wednesdays: hanging with the hummingbirds

Such exquisite creatures...

Come see more

at Peace Garden Writer!

faith fridays: suffering, 'a precious thing'

It doesn’t seem right, does it, calling suffering precious? Some might even have an angry reaction to that statement. Please know it’s one I do not make lightly. It obviously requires some reflection.

And that’s precisely why I want to tackle the topic of suffering; because there are so many ways to understand it. As I’ve found, seeing it from the proper angle can make all the difference.

Perhaps only one real certainty about suffering that can be agreed upon by all: that being, each of us will experience it. None of us will escape this world without going through some sort of suffering period. 

So it’s not so much whether we'll experience it, but how we might approach it when we do. It was Pope John Paul II who once said, “Your suffering is never useless…it’s a precious thing.” (The Sword, Volume 71, Number 1, 2011, p. 86-88)

What could he have meant by that? Edith Stein, or St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, expounded on this in some of her writings. As Sarah Borden Sharkey notes in the above-mentioned source, Stein viewed suffering as a way to build our souls, a tool that might be used to help purify our hearts.

But how can we take something so awful as suffering and see it thus? Well, for one, Sharkey points out with Stein’s help, we can become compassionate through our suffering. When we have been harmed, we come to understand what others experience when they, too, endure pain and insult. “We can become generous through knowing what it is like to barely have enough,” Sharkey said. “And we can come to value the peace of God as we struggle with domestic instability and violence.”

In other words, she said, through our trials we can begin to see the world through Christ-like eyes. “This building up of the soul is not, for Stein, simply a turning away from, or despising, earthly life. Hers is not the pragmatic advice – because you have been hurt, care a little less about the world.”  In contrast, Sharkey notes, Stein believed we ought to love deeply and be profoundly invested in this world.

At the same time, Stein didn't encourage inaction or apathy when it comes to suffering, whether our own or that of others. “It seems to me that suffering is always something that – at a very important level – ought not to be…it is not how the world ought to be and thus our hearts ought to rebel against suffering," Sharkey said.

There it is: “Our hearts ought to rebel against suffering.”

But, as Stein pointed out, suffering "is also the instrument of our salvation. It is the pathway Christ has chosen for Himself, and thus for those who follow after Him.” (p.100)

So, suffering, from the Catholic perspective at least, is something that we ought to rebel against, but at the same time, can be used for the good – as an instrument of our salvation. We can both resist it and view it as a help in transforming ourselves to a more Christ-like existence.

There can only be good in that, it seems.

I hope that through the words of these women – one, a saint, the other, a woman who has reflected meaningfully on her words – that my initial statement of suffering as precious can be better absorbed and accepted.

Certainly, God did not create the world so that we might experience pain. We chose, through The Fall, to go our own way. We have, in essence, brought suffering onto ourselves in a collective manner.

Rather than delight in this fact, God stays near us during our suffering, gently leading us toward healing. Through Christ, we can allow our suffering to propel us more deeply into His arms.

What could be more precious than falling deeply into the embrace of Love? And that...is how suffering can become "a precious thing."

Q4U: When has suffering turned into something precious to you?

writing wednesday: so what will you do...

...with your one wild and precious life?

See more on Peace Garden Writer today!

mama mondays: you know you're in north dakota if...

A few days ago, a friend from my hometown started a page on Facebook, "You know you're from (our hometown) if..." Within a matter of 48 hours, 327 people had joined the page and hundreds of comments and threads had appeared. I hope to blog more about this little "experiment" that has exploded into a rush down memory lane soon. But for now, I'm in a different place with visuals from the here and now to share.

This time, it's not my hometown, but the city that served as something of a second residence (or at least an occasional stopping-in point) during the whole of my childhood years. When my parents retired, they returned to this place; the corner of the world where I spent every summer and holiday as a youngster.

There's just something about the places where we spent our first years of life. Such evocative memories, such richness in the recollections of the towns where we discovered who we are and began dreaming the dreams that led us out into the wider world in search of more of ourselves.

This weekend I took two strolls down memory lane; a virtual one, and a real one when my mother, sister and three of our children took in a crafts fair at the North Dakota state capitol grounds. Everything about our little tour spoke of the North Dakota that is so dear to my heart.

You Know You're In North Dakota If...

At least one booth at the craft fair looks like a sunflower field...

Another contains a "grain elevator..."

The dogs are big and wear bandanas around their necks...

You and your cousin break open your new ocarinas the minute you get them, knowing they're exotic and nearly as fun as trying to whistle through a blade of grass...

 You see lots of butterflies...

You watch artists camped out at the base of the capitol doing sidewalk chalk art...

 

 The kettle corn tastes twice as good as anywhere else...

Your daughter sneaks away to talk to her friend on the cell phone in front of the North Dakota State Library steps...

The cousins get the giggles when placing an I-pod into the hands of a statue near the North Dakota Heritage Center, knowing the copper man is none the wiser...

During a photo shoot of the three old ladies, a horse gallops into view...

The American flag seems to fly more majestically against the prairie sky...

The weather is cloudy but not rainy (you're even a little regretful you forgot your jacket and feel guilty knowing much of the country, sadly, is suffering heat waves...).

The crowds are good-sized but very manageable (very few lines!).

And, if you're really lucky, you leave home just before naptime looking like a rainbow ballerina...

Q4U: What's your "You Know You're From...When..." phrase from your neck of the woods?

faith fridays: begging for a broken heart

Without knowing the context, the utterance might have seemed something akin to codependency or self-abuse:

"Father, break my heart for the things that break yours."

Such was the prayer suggested recently at a luncheon gathering for Christian business leaders in our community; a monthly event called Power Lunch.

The pastor wasn't insane. He was making an important point about life and what's important. Specifically, he was talking about having a clear vision for what we're to do with our time here, and where one acquires this vision.

"Vision is the most potent weapon in a leader's arsenal," he said. To further make his point, he asked attendants if any of them knew what happened inside Billy Graham before he began his great crusades. To the Catholic audience of today, I would ask: What happened in the life of Karol Józef Wojtyła before he was named Pope?

Then he went back even further, using Moses' life as an illustration to remind us of the defining points in his earthly journey providing him vision. Though some might think it all started with the burning bush, he said, the stirrings began well before that, specifically when Moses witnessed the beating of a Jew by an Egyptian, and later, two Hebrews in a violent fight with one another. These were the visuals that spurred Moses to action; the moments in which, the pastor said, "he was taken to the edge of his own emotional limits."

Moses' spirit was stirred, and the great leadership that would characterize his life was set in motion.

Exodus 3:7 points to these stirrings as seen from God's vantage point: "The Lord said, 'I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt. I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers, and I am concerned about their suffering.'"

"What frustrates the character and nature of God? This is the energy that leads to leadership," the pastor explained. It is out of necessity that we act. "There are things in our lives which absolutely wreck us, and we can't stand idly by!"

Thus, the prayer in which we turn to God and ask Him to show us...what breaks His heart. For those are the things that must also break ours if we're to do what we're meant to do in this life. Once we see things as God does -- once our heart is similarly broken -- we must not just proclaim the Gospel, but live it out. "I want to be someone who is authentic...even if it hurts," the pastor said.

Do we dare pray this prayer? It's a dangerous one, he warned. But when we ask this in earnest -- that our heart would be broken over the things that breaks God's heart -- our lives will be transformed. We will see things more clearly, live our lives more purposefully.

"What are the things that drive you crazy?" the pastor asked. "Is God calling you to do something about it?"

He then asked us to pause and list all the things that get our goats. I mean, really bug us. Not just annoy, but bring us to our knees. I wrote down ten things that break my heart. Now, I have to figure out how to narrow down the variables and do what I can do to create change.

In that discernment period, the pastor said, we may need to ask God another difficult thing: that He would "thaw our numbness to see and feel what He is leading us to."

Which leads me to this: if anyone has ever said living as an authentic Christian is easy, I'd love to know what rock they crawled out of. Living the Christian life is far from easy. It is a daily surrender, a constant climb with a million slips along the way, and it is the Way of the Broken Heart.

But you know what? I'd rather have my heart broken a million times over than live a sterile life of numbness, inaction and regret.

Q4U: What breaks your heart deeply enough to call you to action?

writing wednesdays: on having author friends

I've been both blessed and burdened by having friends who are authors (blessings far outweigh any minor burdens, however). Read how I'm trying to keep pace with reading their treasures this summer on Peace Garden Writer.

While you're at it, shoot me a title of your favorite author of the summer!

mama mondays: adventure at the laundrymat

On Friday, this is where two of my kids and I spent a couple hours. Yes, each of those windows contains clothes from the Salonen clan. We pretty much took over the whole laundrymat!

As much as I complain about the never-ending chore of laundry (I feel like I live and breathe either sorting, washing or drying clothes), when you've got seven loads that need to be dried and the dryer has decided to go kaput, you realize how much you've failed to appreciate a clothes dryer in good working order.

I couldn't afford to let those seven piles sit all weekend. So off we went. First, to the bank for quarters, then to the laundrymat. My 8-year-old did everything he could to avoid pinching his nose while entering the place he determined didn't have the best smell. But things sort of evened out after he discovered the vending machines inside. By the middle of the session, both kids were thanking me for bringing them to the laundrymat. Who knew this would prove to be such a fun adventure?

My 11-year-old was delighted from the get-go. "I always see laundrymats in movies but I've never been in one for real. This will be fun!" I didn't share her enthusiasm at that point. Weekends in early marriage spent in laundrymat prison flashed through my mind. My delight back then in finally purchasing a washer and dryer of our own was unprecedented.

But on Friday, I started to look through my kids' eyes and recall fonder memories of days at the laundrymat. They took place back in my hometown in Poplar, Montana, at Ault's Laundrymat downtown. My mom would bring her novel, and my sister and I would hop around on the orange chairs near the folding table, waiting and watching. We sneaked glances at the others there to take on the mundane task of clothes-washing, noting with curiosity the personal garments that went in and out of the machines. (You can learn a lot about a person from their underwear...) When that became boring, we would stall in front of the big picture window and watch the happenings of our small city. With the laundrymat situated next to a bar, there were plenty of things to observe, and odd smells to match it. My 8-year-old would have deemed our Fargo laundrymat a field of lavendar next to the putrid smells that emanated from the bar next to the laundrymat. But what did we care? We were young and life was a grand adventure, with all of its unexplored territory and the questions that arose.

Spending a few hours at our laundrymat Friday afternoon brought it all back, thanks in large part to my kids, who delighted in plopping quarters into the large dryers and watching their clothes roll round and round in the hot air while they played a game of King's Corner. Occasionally, they'd sneak glances and bits of conversation from the other patrons. The laundrymat is a communal event, after all. When at last the dryers stopped, they helped me wheel the rolling metal baskets over to our section to catch the dried clothes. It wasn't until we were midway through folding that my daughter declared, "This is boring now," and my son slumped in a chair nearby, exhausted from all the work. Soon enough, though, we were hauling baskets of clean, folded clothes to the van. And just like that, it seemed to me, seven loads of laundry were ready to go!

Thankfully, my dear hubby had everything back in working order the following day. He found me in the kitchen and brushed past me with his load of newly-dryed, still-hot clothes; his way of telling me it was fixed.

So, it's back to drying clothes at home, but now that I know what an adventure the laundrymat can be, we might return sooner rather than later.

Q4U: Do you have a laundrymat memory?