mama mondays: the scariest thing of all...

Gotcha!

That's me having a bad hair day. It didn't help that I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

Okay, seriously now, I took my kids to a Halloween party on Friday at Yunker Farm and Children's Museum here in Fargo.

This getup totally happened on a whim. The hosts invited us to wear costumes and though I was just going to go as myself (which would have been plenty scary), at the last minute I decided to have fun getting dressed up with my youngest two boys.

It was fun watching them watch me transform into a green witch. As I applied the green makeup and sprayed on the spray and blackened my tooth, my six-year-old watched me with admiring eyes. "That looks cool, Mom!" Far from being scared, I think he saw me as just wanting to join the fun and shed my mom-as-boss for a few hours in order to play the part of someone else.

"All in good fun, my pretty, all in good fun!" (Cackle...)

I'm going to sprinkle my post today with images from our time up at Yunker Farm, but I have a point to make beyond the cool photos of a fun October evening in North Dakota. There's something I have to get off my chest.

I uploaded the same photo of me-as-witch onto my Facebook wall, and I knew that in doing so I was taking a risk that I might be offending some of my Christian friends. I understand that displaying Halloween and its associated ghostly images is seen by some as the glorification of evil.

Point well taken. I agree that the culture around us has confiscated the original intent of All Hallows Eve; that All Saints and All Souls days have been twisted and turned into something other than what they were intended to be.

 

At the same time, there may be another way of looking at it. I think it's possible that by taking out all of the unbecoming elements of Halloween -- yes, even doing away with the holiday altogether -- we come close to convincing ourselves that evil doesn't exist, when in fact it most certainly does. Or, as C.S. Lewis put it in The Screwtape Letters, "The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist."

The last thing I want to do is to glorify evil. I want to glorify and emanate goodness as much as I possibly can. But I also think we need to keep a balance on this, like all other things.

My sons in particular have always loved Halloween, even counted it as their favorite holiday. The whole "I get to dress up as someone powerful" is appealing to boys. The protector in them is finding an outlet. Though our kids' first-grade teacher always has her class dress up as saints (which is adorable and appropriate), the boys always seem to ditch the saints costume for something scarier for the evening trick-or-treat session.

Kaleidoscope

Heart machine

Over time of watching my boys enjoy Halloween, I've come to realize that there is something about this holiday worth hanging on to. Yes, if we don't take time to seize the teachable moments, our kids can easily be led astray and be more attracted to darkness than light. But...if we recognize the evil in our world, and if, instead of pretending it's not there, we meet it and shine our little lanterns of light onto it, isn't it possible that we'll have an effect? That our light will overcome it?

Pope John Paul II encouraged Christians to be courageous, to not be afraid. With this in mind, the more I think on it, the more I've become convinced that the scariest thing of all about Halloween is not the ghostly images that sometimes accompany it, but our attempts to make evil disappear by pretending it's not there. Evil will always exist in this world, and more than ever it needs our presence as Christians to show that there is a better way. The way of love, light and life.

Party hosts Emily and Babe

I enjoyed my time with the boys. I enjoyed driving in my minivan and noticing the curious stares and giggles of those whose vehicles ended up near mine en route to and from Yunker Farm. I enjoyed watching my little guys have a blast being someone else for an evening.

At the end of it all, awards were given for the best costumes. I couldn't believe it when I heard the spookiest costume had been awarded to...the greenest witch in the house. Yeah baby! Two free passes to a movie at Marcus Theaters!

Though we need to be cautious of how we present the darker side of reality to our kids, let's look for a way to do this that will help them be empowered to be the lights of love and hope we are here to be.

Have a Happy, Fun and Safe Halloween!

Go shine your light!

faith fridays: messages in the sky

I've got a fixation that I'm having a hard time shaking. When it takes hold -- and it often does while the five kids and I are cruising along in the minivan -- everyone knows what's coming. The teens roll their eyes. The young ones sigh. They've given up on convincing me this obsession is unworthy. So they simply exchange knowing glances and turn up the radio while I indulge.

"Look at that one!" I'll say. "That's incredible!"

Yeah, Mom, whatever.

I'm obsessed with clouds. I'm absolutely in love with the sky paintings I see on a regular basis here on the prairie. And I've come to realize, in part through my friends who live in other places, that there's something to this; that living in "God's country," the land of the Big Sky, well, it's not like this everywhere.

Badlands/Medora, North Dakota (Emily Brooks)

Case in point, the above photo was supplied by Emily Brooks, a friend who shares a passion with sky shots. This one was taken in Western North Dakota near Medora in the "Badlands." It doesn't get much more divine than when untouched terrain meets the heavens. Add the perfect time of day when sun provides natural fill light, creating mesmerizing shadows, and you've got something; something worth capturing. Because the sun at the right time and place is fleeting.

I've been collecting these images over the past months and I can no longer keep them to myself. Since I don't have a completely receptive audience here at home, I'm hoping you'll oblige me.

"One Summer Evening at Dusk," Fargo, North Dakota (Roxane B. Salonen)

Mind you, I'm not a professional photographer --though I consider myself a devoted amateur -- and I don't always have my Canon nearby when the moment strikes. Some of these were snapped with my cell phone. Not brilliant photography, though a brilliant canvas.  But even in the best of these, a true echo of reality isn't possible through the camera lens, though I might die trying.

"Luminous Cloud in a Dakota Sky," Fargo, North Dakota (Roxane B. Salonen)

Sometimes, the sun acts as a spotlight, zeroing in on one particular cloud that's been touched pink by its descending rays, bringing it to the fore as the rest of the scene fades to gray.

"Tug of War Weather," Carmel of Mary Monastery, Wahpeton, North Dakota (Roxane B. Salonen)

Other times it seems as though there's a Weather Tug of War going on in the sky. Which will win -- the gray or the white?

Cotton candy puffs are some of my favorites. I look at them and inhale their fluffy lovely.

But even the ominous ones have their place. They remind me of the might of nature.

"Chasing a Storm Chasing the Earth," Fargo, North Dakota (Rebecca Raber)

"Today Matters," Fargo, North Dakota (Rebecca Raber)

The above two were taken by our school's choir teacher. She's another who's been captivated by the prairie sky. Note the sign on the school marquee, as well as the powerfully distinct cloud edges. (Yes, the small things make me giddy!)

 "Poolside," Island Park, Fargo, North Dakota (Roxane B. Salonen)

From the Shores of Lake Lizzie, Minnesota (Emily Brooks)

Summertime clouds can be particularly charming, inducing the viewer into a warm-weather coma.

And airplane clouds never fail to enrapture through their humility-prompting perspective.

"Scattered Sky Puffs" (Roxane B. Salonen)

"The Misty Earth Below" (Roxane B. Salonen)

"Sky Vistas" (Roxane B. Salonen)

So what does this have to do with faith? Everything, of course. All of these things of nature are exhilarating because they are a reflection of God's intricately-designed, vast, moving, colorful world. 

When I get excited about the clouds, it's because I hear God whispering through them. And what is He usually saying, in the wisps of clouds at a soccer game, for instance?

I.love.you.

I love you so much that I would not have been content to make you a gray world. I love you enough to give you variety, something to hope upon, something that will mimic the complexities of your human emotions to remind you that I know and understand all that you're going through.

God's messages in the sky are one of a million ways He relentlessly pursues us. If my husband writes me a love letter, I'm not going to respond with complacency. I'm going to relish the gift I'm being offered. And so it is when I receive a love letter from God.

Thank you, God, for clouds and the messages you send me through them. I delight in your ways, oh Lord!

Q4U: What do you see when you look up?

writing wednesdays: postpartum insanity?

What's the first thing Natalie Bahm thought to do after the birth of her third child? Why, write a book, of course.

It might sound like postpartum insanity, but some important insights came out of Natalie's after-birth endeavor. See more today on Peace Garden Writer!

mama mondays: utopian mommy

This weekend, one of my daughters and I had the chance to hang out a lot and talk about a wide variety of subjects. At some point, the topic came around to what she wants to be when she grows up.

My daughter has big dreams. She wants to marry a rich man and live in a nice house. She will have two children, she says (so it doesn't get too overwhelming), and she will make them well-balanced and attractive meals everyday, along with a plate of chocolate chip cookies for an after-school snack (so fresh from the oven the steam will be rising up, to be sure). All the laundry will be done in orderly fashion, the socks hanging straight and nice like in the photo, no doubt. And nary a mismatched one, either.

"Oh, so you want to be the kind of mother I'm not?" I ask her.

"Yeah, sort of like that," she answers.

Should I be hurt? Some mothers would, perhaps, but I see wide, so it doesn't bother me that she's pitting her utopian vision of motherhood against the reality.

First off, full disclosure, what she says is mostly true. I'm not the kind of mother who gets up at dawn to begin grinding the flour to make homemade bread, and sadly, chocolate-chip cookies mostly come from a bag around here these days. Oh, I used to create wonderful desserts and meals prepared with utmost care on a regular basis, but somewhere around mile-marker Dirty Diaper 1,314, it all came to a crashing halt. I still remember the moment, at 2 a.m., flour and dough splattered across the table and in my hair, that I decided my pie-making days were coming to an end. For a while, anyway.

I started making pies back in high school because my mother didn't make them and I love pie. I decided then that I would be the kind of mother who makes pie so I decided to get a jump on my future skill. I became very good at it, receiving an exorbitant amount of praise from my father who especially enjoyed my pecan and apple. His mother had been a phenomenal cook and he was missing the good old days of homemade fare. He loved seeing me following in the footsteps of Grandma "Dot," a grandmother I never had a chance to meet but love all the same because of the stories he's told. I truly enjoyed my time in the kitchen back then.

But that one, revealing night...I will never forget it. The pie-crust-infused Night of Surrender. It was then that I realized I could not be the mother I'd envisioned in my head all those years earlier. Because in order to be a balanced mother, I knew I had to make space somewhere for things like keeping up with relationships, exercise and writing, and something had to give. It was the homemade pie.

Someday, when preparing food for my family feels less assembly-line endeavor again, I might go back to the old way. But for now, it's enough to make sure there's enough food in the fridge and cupboards and that everyone has their fair share (no small matter in a family of food thieves). Having a larger family has taken some of the fun out of the cooking I used to enjoy. It's made mealtime very practical. But that's okay.

In order to turn into the mother my daughter imagines, I would have to stay in the kitchen all day long, either cleaning up from the last meal or preparing the next...from scratch...and with no preservatives. Since I can't quite live up, she's going to have to take it on herself when it's her turn.

I'm tickled my daughter is thinking about being a mother and a wife. Helping nourish and nurture the next generation can be immeasurably fulfilling. It's good she's throwing it into the equation of possibilities. She'll make a wonderful mother and wife when the time comes, of that I am certain. I don't scoff at her dreams, even if from my adult eyes I see them as a bit on the unrealistic side.

So last night, as she shared more details, I told her I hoped it would work out as she's planned. (She's a planner, after all.) I encouraged her to seek an education, though, as backup and because it's good to have the perspective that comes with higher education if you're fortunate to have the chance. But I also applaud her for seeing, right here and now, what she ultimately wants. Many women don't consider the stirrings of their heart when planning their future. And even if she changes courses, at least she's beginning to form her ideas of not just what society might want but what she wants for herself most of all.

I hope to be here through all of it, to see her dreams unfold, even if Plans B, C and D must go into effect. Someday I might just be in her nice home sitting on her lovely dining-room table eating pie. And if not, that's okay. I will still be loving her when she looks at me through wiser adult eyes. I hope that when that times comes, she'll think back on the mom she'd sort of wished I had been and conclude that she wouldn't have changed a thing.

For now, I'm not upset that I'm not living up to her vision, and I'm okay with her utopian mommy dream. Each generation needs to feel empowered to improve upon the previous. We can learn from one another.

And by the way, Dad, if you're reading this, you still haven't come over and put your feet up on my coffee table like you said you would someday, not to mention turned on all the lights in my house just to get me back. You can come on over anytime. Just don't expect pie.

Q4U: Are you the parent you had envisioned? If not, what compromises have you made?

faith fridays: what dr. king had to say

Dr. Alveda King and Roxane Salonen, Oct. 18, 2011

It's not the best photo quality, true, but it's evidence that I had the honor of brushing shoulders with the niece of the great Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

And what do I most want to say about her, now that I've met her? Well, she's a beautiful soul, a light. She's someone who has her priorities straight, and she moves through the world with one main thing on her mind: love.

Dr. Alveda King's time in Fargo the other night was sponsored in part by the Collegians for Life. She spoke on behalf of Priests for Life and came to set the record straight, including about some of the things that have gone wrong in her life, and all of the blessings that have poured forth from it as well.

One of the most profound things she shared with us, and with me when I interviewed her the week prior on our local Catholic radio station, was that she was a near-miss. Alveda King almost wasn't. She was the product of young love that produced a child; a child slated for abortion. That is, until her granddaddy, whom she affectionately referred to as Daddy King, took his daughter aside and said, "That's my granddaughter you're talking about. I saw her in a dream three years ago. She's going to have light skin and reddish hair. You can't kill her."

Indeed, Alveda -- a combination of the family name Alfred and veda, or "life" -- did have fairer skin than some in her family, and reddish hair, attributed no doubt to the King line of the family hailing from Ireland.

Ireland? That's right. Dr. King is a true, real-life melting pot -- a symbol of many elements of the human race in one package. She's Irish, African and Native American, she said. How beautiful is that? Preaching also is a common theme in her bloodline, as most know. One of her great-grandfathers was a preacher-slave. The bloodlines all point to a common theme: the valiant fight for liberation.

But there was more that Dr. King wanted to share, and in this there seemed a particular urgency. Some of her words aren't welcomed words to some, specifically those relating to her beloved uncle.

Such as the fact that Margaret Sanger, founder of Planned Parenthood, once said, "We don't want the word to go out that we want to exterminate the Negro population." Despite her words, Sanger offered Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. the Margaret Sanger Award in 1966. He stayed home that night, and his wife accepted the award for him.

What did he have to say on the subject of life back in those mid-1960s days when the world was ablaze in civil rights issues? According to his niece, “He said, ‘The Negro cannot win if he’s willing to sacrifice the futures of his children for immediate personal comfort and safety.’” 

Alveda calls herself post-abortive and healed. She's a non-denominational Christian, a mother of six, a grandmother, a music writer and producer, and an astute speaker on civil rights of the tiniest variety -- that of the child in the womb.

"In 1983, I was born again, and I began to emerge with a message," she said. "Some say a woman has a right to do what she wants with her body, but a baby is not her body." It's a separate entity, she noted, as physicians who try to save the life of both mother and child know well.

So what else did she reveal about her uncle? For one, he loved sweet-potato pie. And one time, when she was a teenager growing into womanhood, her uncle remarked that even though they weren't violent people, he and his brother (her father) might just have to get a baseball bat to keep the boys away from Alveda. She would never forget that comment and how special it made her feel.

I wasn't surprised when, upon doing an online search, I found controversy surrounding Dr. King's testimonials. Some would contend her uncle was not who she says he was. But I've moved now from just reading words on a paper. I sat in the front row at her talk, just a few feet from the podium, and heard from her in person. I witnessed the calm way she moved, the way she spoke with gentle conviction. From everything I've observed, this is a woman who sees clearly and embraces our wounded world in love, just like her uncle.

writing wednesdays: becoming a writer

How do you know when you've finally made it as a writer?

When the most recent issue of a local magazine appears on the racks, and you're among the contributors.

No, I'm not talking about myself. Who then, you say? Well go see here!

mama mondays: will walk for cake

This weekend, our church had its annual fall festival. Though we were unable to attend the first evening of the event, which included a family dance and hay rides, we did catch the Sunday turkey dinner and kids' games.

A lot changed up from past years. The bulk of kids' activities took place outside under a huge tent. Much better than squishing hundreds of people into our gathering space as had been the case.

What celebration is complete without popcorn popping?

The fish pond is always a favorite, too.

More than anything else, the kids were intent on winning a cake at the cakewalk.

I told them if they all went at once, we could increase our odds, thereby bringing home dessert. They didn't do that exactly, but we did end up winning two cakes with just two tries.

One of the lucky and very happy winners:

I still remember the first time I won a cake at my hometown church, during our annual Mardi Gras celebration. It was shaped like a bunny and had coconut frosting. I felt like the luckiest person alive.

There's something about being a kid when the church fall festival comes around. Especially when you live in a family of chocoholics and you just happen to win a chocolate cake on the first try.

Q4U: What is your favorite childhood memory of a church event?

faith fridays: the atheist problem - "In the beginning..."

One of many clouds I have gazed upon and admired...

I'll say this right off: atheists have a lot of good points. I mean that. I can honestly see why people -- young people in particular -- are tempted to go down that road. In some ways it would make life so much easier to believe that we just transpired out of thin air. Poof! And here we are. Why? Doesn't really matter.

No one would be atheist if the position didn't make at least some sense. To a point, all of this religious stuff can seem a little far-fetched. I mean, we can't see God or anything supernatural, right? So let's be honest with ourselves. Isn't it more likely that it's all just a made-up vision by non-thinking dolts who bypass the tough questions by telling fantastical stories to appease themselves?

If only...

It was my 8-year-old who prompted me to write about this today. He's my thinker, and on the way to school the other morning he was contemplating life, and how illogical it would be for us to die without there being something more on the other side. He can't conceive what some believe:  that -- though we have always known life, known ourselves to be existing creatures -- when our time comes to an end...the motion of our aliveness will stop. Forever.

To the limited mind, this is quite plausible. But to those who are able to let go of truth being defined only by what can be observed in a science lab, a whole new world of reality comes into view. Again, to a point, atheism can make sense. But go beyond that point and you're lost. Just as well, go before that point, and again, you're left shrugging your shoulders.

Now let me ask this: What sense does it make to start in the middle of things? I find the best way to be truly logical about anything is to start at the beginning, as C.S. Lewis does in Mere Christianity. If you're looking for a sound, well-reasoned account for the existence of God, read Lewis (a recovered atheist). He brings us all the way back to the starting point. There's conviction for you, there's clarity, there's deep-thinking. But starting in the middle? I'll be blunt: it's a cop-out. I know it, you know it, and my 8-year-old knows it.

When confronted with this most important question about the beginning of things, the well-informed atheist might say something along these lines: "Well, yeah, we really don't know how all this came to be. Someday we might, but for now, we'll just skip on over that question. It's not that important."

The well-informed (and, arguably, well-intending) atheist also will be quick to point at the believer as one who uses God as an excuse for whatever doesn't make sense. God of the Gaps, I believe they call it. And yet whenever I've asked atheists about when and how this world began, I've been admonished to my room for a time-out. Or perhaps it's closer to being met with the child who puts her hands over her ears when she doesn't want to hear something true and shrieks, "Lalalalala!!!" really loudly.

My main intent here is not merely to point out the errors of the atheist's way of thinking. As I said earlier, I can see how atheism can be attractive to some. It's got to be so much easier to believe in oneself rather than a Being whose mind is above and beyond our comprehension; to place hands on ears whenever the subject of God comes up rather than confront the uncomfortable reality that there is a purpose to this life -- and only a short amount of time to make good on the reason we're here.

What I want most to do is to affirm the Christian readers who have found their way to this post, to remind you that you are far from illogical in what you believe. And if ever you should doubt yourself (as we humans are inclined to do), just go back to the beginning and ask yourself the kinds of questions my young son did. "If things are and always have been in motion, are always moving forward, what was it that set them in motion, and why?"
 
There's the point at which you once again find God -- the supreme craftsman who designed you with intention, will love you through the best and worst of times on this earth, and gladly welcome you into the next.

The Christian has been accused time and again of not asking the tough questions. I'd say it's the atheist who has been in error in giving up too soon, of fleeing just as things become the most critical. 

At the very least, let's be fair about where the conversation needs to begin. Jumping in the middle won't do. It's only in starting at the beginning, as God does in Scripture, that we can begin to weave our way through life's most compelling questions with integrity.

Q4U: What has helped you rediscover the face of God?

writing wednesdays: people as trees walking

Have you ever seen people as trees, but walking? Or are you simply thinking now, "Has Roxane gone off the deep end? What is she talking about?"

You won't find out by hanging out here today. Only on Peace Garden Writer will all be revealed...

See you there!

mama mondays: zero to fourteen in no time

On Friday, my firstborn daughter turned 14.

From this...

To this...in no time flat.

My daughter's a planner. Someday, I envision her planning huge events for important people. All of the i's will be dotted, t's crossed. And she'll be in her element, to the benefit of those who benefit.

She'd been planning a birthday lunch and chose a new Fargo restaurant, Noodle & Company, as the destination. Also on her list: the evening before her 14th birthday, she and a friend gathered at our home to make cupcakes -- three different varieties, including my favorite, red velvet with cream-cheese frosting. I heard these were very well-received by teachers and classmates alike.

The afternoon of her birthday, she and her friends dressed up and headed out to a pizza joint, as was part of the plan. I walked in with them to pay for the pizza and drinks, entering just before three teen boys who, wouldn't you know, chose the table next to the girls. Four teen girls, three teen boys, eating pizza, opening gifts; girls giggling, guys googling.

Am I ready for this?

Later, when it was time for drop-off, the girls walked to the door with the first friend before departure, and a golf-cart load of teen boys flew past. Noticing the girls, they quickly yelled out their cell number. The giggling girls giggled some more.

How can a mother prepare for such moments?

The next day, three of them converged again at a place called Cherry Berry, where they chose from about 15 flavors and 30 toppings (note the girl on the right with her flower hair tie and sleek high heels...).

After slurping down their treats, they retreated into a corner in the lime- and cherry-colored chairs and (guess what?)...giggled.

Ready or not...

My firstborn daughter is a classy gal with a lot of wonderful qualities, as well as a few that need tweaking like everyone else on the planet. But as I peer through the haze of teenhood, I see an amazing person emerging; someone who has not escaped life's challenges but who has proven herself capable of overcoming whatever bumps present themselves.

Did I mention she's always looked good in purple?

 

But even better, she makes me laugh. She brings light to others. I await the amazing person she's on her way to becoming, and in large part, already is.

Love you, L!

Q4U: What do you remember most from your teen years, the good and the bad of it?