Peace Garden Mama

faith fridays: my daughter's prolife essay

2012-01-27T00:01:00.035-06:00

It's one thing to discover, from experiences over the course of your life, what's really important when it comes right down to it. But another altogether to hear your child stand up for her convictions in public.

I've never been so proud of my firstborn daughter as last week when she verbally presented an essay that had been part of a grouping of finalists in a contest among parochial schools in our area. The contest was sponsored by a local pro-life organization and included several winners from each of the three schools.

My daughter was one of two from her middle-school who made the cut. They presented to a group of peers, including high-school students, along with teachers, parents and some of the folks from the organization.

Two videos were shown to highlight the importance of life; both were beautifully done and evoked my emotion on the subject. But my most powerful feelings came through when our daughter approached the podium and calmly read her essay.

Think of it: you're a teen, you're in front of your peers and you're reading something you consider fairly personal before a microphone on a stage. This is no easy task, and at least one of the gals who read looked like she might faint. Another passed on the opportunity entirely due to nerves.

I don't blame them. Public speaking is among the biggest fears that we have as a society. Which is why it was such a triumph for my daughter. I coached her a little the night before. I told her all the things that helped me when I was in similar situations in the past, and even now when I have to go before a crowd. She wasn't convinced it would work.

So, I can't take the credit. I'd say it was grace more than anything I might have done. Still, I was relieved for her that everything came together at the right moment.

And here's what else I came away with: it felt big. It felt like the beginning of something. We may not know for years just what that thing may be, but I'm fairly certain I will look back on that day at some point in the future and say, "Yep, that's when it all started."

Finalists were honored with a rose...

A figurine of a child in utero...

And a check for $25.

Here's the speech as viewed from my phone's video camera. In case that's too hard to discern, here are the words to the speech:

“America is Becoming More Pro-Life. What are Some Reasons for This?”

“A person’s a person no matter how small.” The famous quote by Dr. Seuss runs through my mind whenever I go to pray at the abortion mill in Fargo. I wonder if he knew how prophetic his words would become on the topic of pro-life versus pro-choice. Luckily, America is becoming more pro-life each day!

I will explain to you the two main reasons why I believe that’s coming true. Firstly, the effect of the testimonies of the post-abortive women, and how they’ve touched the hearts of others. Secondly, thanks to science and new technology like the fetal-monitor, people can observe what really takes place during an abortion.

Being told abortion is wrong by someone who has never experienced it isn’t as powerful as hearing it from someone who has gone through the trauma. The leap of faith the women have when they talk about devastating low self-esteem issues, along with the heart break they face when they realize they’ve killed their own child, and anything in between, is so touching that those who hear them often have a conversion.

Science is developing greatly, thanks to inventions like the fetal monitor; mothers are able to hear their baby’s heartbeat, and see their child move before they can even feel it, creating in instant bond between the two. America interprets this as love, and life, realizing that when the baby backs up in the womb, and tries to save its life, it’s for a purpose. In turn, America’s able to see that we need to be defenders of life, no matter how small that life may be.

God is using technology and time to reveal the truth of this tragic solution. I’m hopeful I’ll be able to see the day when abortion is no longer legal and desired in America.

Q4U: When did you glimpse the start of something big, and know it?

writing wednesdays: chasing after a birdie

2012-01-25T00:01:00.004-06:00

Yep, that's right. It's birdie chasing time today.

Ah, c'mon. You know you wanna!

But you hafta head over to Peace Garden Writer first. Toodles and see ya soon!

mama mondays: there's a new band in town

2012-01-23T00:01:00.058-06:00

Before I go on with the rest of my post, I just have to say, boy has it been cold here. You only get sun dogs when it's really, really cold. Here's one from earlier this week:

Yeah, so our nice little winter has turned fierce, but there are plenty of other things warming my heart these days. The least of which was a phone call Friday night. "Is Nick there?" said the woman on the other end. "I have someone here who would like to talk to him about getting together to practice for their band."

Before we let the boys make their plans, we moms chatted a little bit. Turns out this has been in the works a few days now, but I'd missed the mommy memo.

The band already has a name -- Devils Lake. Those of you living in our region know this as the name of a North Dakota city. I learned later that Nick had thought of the name while watching the weather forecast with his father. When he heard "Devils Lake," he said, "That's what I want my band to be named."

Of course, I'm sure Troy was thinking, The Band That He'll Have Someday. But no, Nick had something more immediate in mind. So, the two first-graders plotted and set up their first practice session.

A few minutes after setting it up, I heard a strange sound come from the room near where I was chuckling about Nick's new band. "Are you okay?" I asked, thinking it was a piercing cry. "Yeah, just excited," he said. Apparently in trying to stay calm, he let out a happy squeal; thus the strange sound.

So, here we go. Six years old and already seeking the rock and roll stage. Although...apparently some of the band members won't have their gear until next Christmas, because they don't have any cash of their own so they have to wait to ask for it from Santa. That's how Nick got his electric guitar.

And by the way, from what we've heard, Santa would not have followed through on the request for a Dean Baby ML unless there was a true showing of promise as a future guitarist. We, too, don't think it's just for show; Nick's interest and quick learning has surprised us. For now, we're going with it.

I just hope he's not too disappointed when things don't happen as quickly as he imagines. After all, it's going to be a while before he's going to be able to play Downtown. But why not get a head start on things?

So, Devils Lake, let's see what you can do!

Nick and friend "JackJack" pose for first-ever "Devils Lake" band photo. Watch out world!

Q4U: What talents have your seen and encouraged in your children, or other small people in your care?

faith fridays: an oasis in the desert

2012-01-20T00:01:00.068-06:00

Last week I started a new job; the first full-time job away from home I've had in 16 years. Though I've been writing and mothering for years now, my new position as a full-time reporter at our state's largest daily newspaper has meant some obvious change for our family of seven, including a lot of mental and physical adjustments.

My mind is engaged and moving in a positive direction, but my brain is saying, "Information overload!" and "Can't I just sleep an extra 15 minutes? What are you trying to do to me?" Similarly, my body is enjoying the new challenge of dressing in work clothes each business day, but it's also feeling a tad weary from the transition.

But this, too, is true: I'm thoroughly enjoying my new environment and co-workers and the continual flow of ideas. I'm loving doing interviews and collecting stories like one collects seashells at the ocean to arrange them nicely for others to enjoy. It's a pretty sweet deal all the way around.

But I've been needing something...a place to collect myself midday. And this week I finally made the connection.

Our newspaper is kiddy-corner from our state's only abortion facility, and a few steps from that, a relatively new Visitation Chapel has been set up, primarily to pray for those who enter the facility and come out forever changed. It's only open on abortion days and anyone can come throughout the day to pray before the Blessed Sacrament.

Yesterday, after a planning meeting, I had about a half-hour to spare. I'd already eaten lunch so didn't have a need for food consumption, but I did have a great need for decompression.

I couldn't believe how few steps it took to find my way into a small corner of heaven. This is the view from the inside of the office complex where the chapel exists, looking toward my new work place.

Though I wasn't able to snap any photos inside the chapel, at least I was able to track my journey into my midday oasis.

As I sat there, hanging out with the Lord in that sacred space, I felt all of the stress of the past week and a half flow out of me. It felt very similar to the time I spent at Carmel of Mary Monastery this summer for a writing reprieve. Of course, it wasn't nearly as long; I was at the monastery for a blessed week. But it did the trick. It was just what I needed.

I know the chapel was not set up specifically to meet my needs. The Bishop didn't have that in mind when he set about renting the space for people to pray. But it feels personal to me at this juncture -- a gift from God. I feel deeply blessed and wholly gratified that this will become part of my new routine. I look forward to spending time here each week in search of "white spaces," as my friend Mary calls them; moments of rest in the midst of a busy life.

Thank you, Lord, for all of your blessings, including this unexpected treasure!

Q4U: Do you have a midday oasis? Do tell!

writing wednesdays: the intersection of bees and my new life

2012-01-18T00:01:00.004-06:00

Yep, that's a bee. A solo bee. But what happens when bees get together?

Find out today on Peace Garden Writer! Always love seeing you there - later gator!

mama mondays: what i missed my first week at work

2012-01-16T00:01:00.096-06:00

When a big door opens, others close. That's just the way it works. So when I accepted a full-time reporter position at our local newspaper recently, I knew new sacrifices would be involved. One day into it, I experienced the truth of this.

On Tuesday, the afternoon faith-sharing group with which I've been gathering for around 13 years still gathered, but without me. It was my first day of work, and I'd come home to check on my teen daughter, who'd spiked a temp in the middle of the night. First, there was the irony of one of my kids getting sick my first day of work after a very healthy fall and winter. And then the other of driving a familiar path with a new divergence.

I left home to go back to work around 1:15 p.m. -- the time I normally would have been leaving to go to my group. It was a strange feeling pulling out of the driveway as usual but knowing my route would be different than the week prior. I passed my usual turn-off with a tinge of regret and went back to the paper to get at the work at hand. Thankfully, the pang was short-lived, balanced out by the feeling of a new and exciting venture that was seeming so far like a really good match.

Then Thursday came -- the day of the school Mass. I've been volunteering at these for a good many years, off and on as I can, as a cantor. Sharing my talents and being near my kids during part of their school day and having the chance to partake in the Eucharist midday has been a blessing. This time it wasn't an ordinary Mass. At the end of it, a special send-off to the teacher from Spain, Pilar, would take place, and several parting gifts bestowed on her. Included was a signed copy of my children's book, P is for Peace Garden: A North Dakota Alphabet.

"And now, Mr. Salonen has something to bring up," is reportedly how the announcement by the principal went during the gift-giving portion. That was the cue for my six-year-old to walk down the center aisle of the sanctuary to present my book to his Spanish teacher; the same book that was released to the world the month and year he came into it. I would have liked to have witnessed that moment. Instead, I relished the report and the thought that it had happened. This seemed to symbolize in a good way the reality that many times throughout their lives, my children will be representing a piece of who I am through what they bring to the world (for better or worse, I imagine).

It's also a good lesson in letting go, and in choosing gratitude over excessive pining. I can hover near regret or focus on appreciation for all of the many "firsts" and special events with my children I have witnessed through my 16 years as a parent who worked largely from home. I can be thankful for all of the blessed hours I've spent with my faith sisters. These gatherings have strengthened me as a person, helped me become richer and deeper than I might have otherwise. But the makeup has changed through the years. Women have come and gone depending on what season they're at in their lives.

Yes, in the end, there may be fleeting moments of wishing I could bilocate and be in two places at once, but mostly, I am filled with a sense of satisfaction and thankfulness at the years I was given to go deep into mothering and sisterhood, knowing those many moments have changed me indelibly for the better. And even though they have taken on a new flavor, I can reach for them in new ways and continue to be tranformed.

Q4U: If you have children, how do you feel about not being able to be there every moment of their lives? Have you been able to strike a happy balance?

faith fridays: God's will through the rear-view mirror

2012-01-13T00:01:00.000-06:00

I've become convinced that God's will is rarely revealed in the moment; that it's only when we're gazing through the rear-view mirror of life that we can see with any clarity how things have been divinely laid out.

I'm also convinced this is one of the major causes of disbelief. We live in a world of "give it to me yesterday!" Delayed gratification is extremely difficult for us to tolerate in our climate of instantaneous outcome.

Accustomed as we are to this approach, how could we possibly tolerate the slow-moving ways of the Divine? Not with any ease, that's for certain. And I think any believer would attest to the difficulty. Who among us hasn't experienced long periods when God's plan seemed about as clear as a car window that's just slogged through a rain-inundated country road?

But every once in a great while, we're aligned just right with the mirror, and even though we're still looking at things in hindsight, events and circumstances that have seemed confounding for a long while, perhaps, become abundantly clear. Kind of like that same car window after it's been washed down with Windex and a nice cloth in the sunny aftermath of the rain shower.

At least that's what it's seemed like for me as I've taken up my new post as a reporter at our local daily newspaper, The Forum. All of the opened and closed doors alike for the past year -- even the past decade -- make so much more sense now. Where the line of life was once disjointed and fuzzy, I see things connecting, and a cohesive story in progress. Each writing endeavor, and even so many moments when I wasn't writing, seem to have been preparing me for the work I began on Tuesday. It almost feels a little eerie to me how quickly I feel at home there. Has it been less than a week only?

I know God's grace is also at work here. Without a doubt, the many prayers of family and friends have been powerfully evident to me interiorly. I also know that as nice a gift as this has been, this clarification of my life's movement won't remain this strong forever. There will be times ahead when some details will become incomprehensible. When that happens, I'll have to try to remember to think back on this time when so many pieces of my life fit together in such remarkable fashion.

I'll also remind myself that while mud pies may be present there, regular old mud doesn't follow us to the life after this one. It's only on earth when we can't see the whole picture that blindness, confusion and frustration prevail. Someday, all will be crystal clear, everyday, all the time. What a beautiful reality to look forward to!

For now, I'm cherishing the gift of my precious glance in the rear-view mirror that's shown me that at this time in my life, I'm right where I'm supposed to be.

Q4U: Do you recall an Aha! moment when events and outcomes that made little sense suddenly came into clear view? What did it feel like when things came together?

writing wednesdays: what's with all the purple?

2012-01-11T00:01:00.007-06:00

I started a new job this week. On my first day, I wore a purple shirt that my daughter picked out for me this past weekend. I arrived to find out that most of my co-workers in the section for which I work also were wearing purple, and it wasn't planned!

There's more on my new work digs over at Peace Garden Writer today! See you there!

PGM

mama mondays: if my closet could talk...

2012-01-09T00:01:00.140-06:00

You can learn a lot about a person from her closet.

For the past 16 years, my closet has been heavy on casual with some nicer business attire thrown into the mix. Mostly I needed dress clothes for church and the occasional interview for articles that I would conduct out of the home. The majority of said interviews took place by phone. No dressing up required.

But as of this weekend, that's all changed. I literally dismantled the contents of my closet and started over. Casual in back this time, dress clothes up front with some order: sweaters first, then shirts, then skirts and jackets.

Even the shoes had to be looked over and rearranged.

It's all been necessitated by a new and exciting opportunity in my life. This past week I was offered and accepted a full-time job outside of the home and this is one of the most tangible and immediate signs of how my life is going to be different from here on out.

This isn't something I was aggressively pursuing. But it is something I've always watched for through one eye for when the time might be right. Not only does the time seem right but I feel like so much of the work I've done in the past years has been in preparation specifically for what's next.

So today marks my last day of freelance freedom. Tomorrow, I'll be at my new desk arranging photos of my children and other important things from home to help me ease into the transition and remind me of who I am first and foremost -- a mother and wife, a child of God.

But beyond these vitally important things, I have something of value to offer: I am a writer, a teller of stories, a communicator who yearns to get at the heart of who people are and what makes them tick. And I've been given a chance to do this in a different setting now. It feels like the right fit and I'm deeply grateful for the opportunity.

There have been some loose ends to tie up this past week. There also have been a few sad moments of walking away from some beautiful connections I've had and opportunities I've been given these past years. My local freelance work for magazines will end. After my next two shows, my hosting for Catholic radio also will come to a halt. But there's also much to look forward to, many new things to learn and challenges that I'm sure will prompt me to grow. And that makes the goodbyes easier.

I look forward to sharing more in time. You might notice shorter blog posts for a while, and even an occasional day when I can't quite meet my MWF schedule to a tee. But I don't plan to stop writing here and sharing insights from my life and what I'm learning. Blogging has become too valuable a part of my routine and one of the things that shouldn't need to fall away.

On Wednesday, I'll share more details about the job itself, so if you're curious, come back for a recap of how things are going on my Wednesday writing blog, Peace Garden Writer. For now, I would love a few prayers for a smooth transition. We have some adjustments to make here at home, too, and I could definitely use some Divine help in making it all come together.

Q4U: I announced my Word of the Year last week: Ready! I do feel ready, even if a little nervous. What has come into view in your life recently that you feel ready for?

faith fridays: what the wise men whisper

2012-01-06T00:01:00.024-06:00

I was a cantor at our elementary school Mass on Thursday and I'm still humming the tune to "We Three Kings." On the way out of the sanctuary, I found a visual to help bring remnants of that song to you.

Aren't these beautiful? I love how the closer these guys get to Jesus, the further to the ground they go. The sight of this King of Kings, an innocent babe, must have been something else. So much so that they were brought to their knees in admiration and adoration.

I can't help but think of all the preparations that were made. What compelled them to take leave of the everyday of their lives and go on this life-changing journey? What sort of provisions did they have to consider? How long were they gone and did anyone get left behind? The promise of what might be ahead must have been a very strong pull.

It's the weekend of Epiphany, when we celebrate that journey and what it meant. Each year, I get something different out of it. This year I keep thinking about the fact that, according to some traditional thought, these men were scientists, perhaps astronomers. I love this theory because it symbolizes to me how religion and science can work in harmony; how it doesn't have to be one or the other.

Indeed, the world of religion can accommodate science, whereas the reverse is not true; science cannot move into the realm of the supernatural. It has limits that the supernatural does not. It's also less expansive, though very important in providing information to us about the natural world, and giving hints of supernatural in the process.

We want things tidy, don't we? So often, we put ourselves and others in boxes and call it good. Life is messy, though, and we are much more complex than the boxes we either put ourselves in or allow others to encase us in.

One of my most recent reads has been Bonhoeffer by Eric Metaxas. In an early chapter of the book, Metaxas is describing the family in which Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a World War II martyr, grew up. I love this:

"The family seemed to have the best of what we today might think of as conservative and liberal values, of traditional and progressive ones." He goes on to say that a family friend who'd known Dietrich's mother from early on said that, without a doubt, she "ruled the house, its spirit and its affairs," but at the same time, would never have done anything against the father's wishes. "According to Kierkegaard," this friend concluded, "man belongs either to the moral or the artistic type. He did not know this house which formed a harmony of both." (Emphasis mine.)

I feel like I, too, am a harmony of the moral and artistic together. And why not? Why can't I have convictions and also be free-spirited? Is it possible that never the twain shall meet just isn't true?

Can the Magi have been both scientists and people attracted to faith? I would say it's very likely this was the case. I recall with fondness the 2006 The Nativity Story movie, particularly the scenes involving the Magi. They definitely stole the show with their varied personalities and adventurous spirits. But they were also depicted as scientists.

What the Wise Men have whispered to me this Epiphany is that there is room for both religion and science, both moral and artistic. These were never meant to be separated out. All are called to come and worship God and to bring the gifts -- the talents -- given by God to show appreciation for the gift of Him.

Q4U: What are the Three Wise Men whispering to you?

writing wednesdays: it starts with an "r"

2012-01-04T00:01:00.040-06:00

What starts with an "R" and is raring to go?

You'll see this...

And the answer to the R riddle over at Peace Garden Writer today.

See you soon!

mama mondays: snow for the new year!

2012-01-02T00:01:00.068-06:00

Snow! It finally came, just in time to reign in the new year. Or should I say rain in the new year? It's rained more than snowed this winter, I'm pretty sure. That is NOT normal for this part of the country. And rain followed by a chilly night always makes us plenty nervous, deadly combination that it is.

For us, the snow arrived in its truest form while we were visiting my good friend Mary in her home in Minnesota that abuts woodland.

Mary's home is already cozy, but became more so with the snow outside. The girls snuggled into the softness of her plush furniture while the boys (Mary's four plus my three) stayed happy in the boy cave downstairs.

Leo the cat didn't seem to remember snow, even though he looks like he was born in it! Though he's a huge fan of the outdoors, he took his time with it, like any proper cat, curious but cautious. And I'm more than understanding. This is sort of how I feel right now; on the threshold of something exciting but uncertain just what it might entail. Will it be cold and wet, or fluffy and fun with a hint of adventure?

In flash -- the kind of moment when logic shrinks and the heart takes over -- Leo bounded onto the deck, eventually settling on a safe spot under the deck chair. Seemed he could be part of the adventure there but still have some sizing-up space if he wanted. Yep, that's my kind of cat. I'm usually up for an adventure too, but I do like to take things in a bit before bounding off full blast. (Leo's helping me ponder my "one word" for the new year -- the word that will define my 2012. More on that soon!)

If you didn't believe that the white stuff was really snow earlier, you certainly can tell now with Mary's shot from my cell phone. See those white flakes? That's the real deal. And no better spot to go on such a day than a place called Christmas Point. If you've never been, take a peek at their website. Fun place!

This was a girls-only event, sort of equal time for all the hours the boys wiled away in video-game glory. We decided we needed something to fill us up, and a frothy cup of banana-bread steamer was a good way to begin. We drank our warm drinks in this little eating nook.

This is all just a teaser for Wednesday's post, when I'll share what Mary (gold) and a new friend (silver) and I experienced at another local eatery. But you'll have to wait on that. For now, I just have to say, there's something about a clean blanket of snow to start the new year off right, don'tchathink? It really does feel like a clean and unmarked slate ready to be filled with new life.

I'm writing this on the eve of the New Year, just after our family's annual New Year's Eve spread.

Next up: family movie!

Before I move on, I need to mention that this time marks the fourth anniversary of my blog, which began in January 2008. Thanks to those of you who've been faithfully keeping up with my ramblings. It's been a privilege for me to share glimpses of my journey with you, and to glimpse yours in return whenever I can.

May your 2012 be blessed and bright!

Peace Garden Mama (Roxane)

Q4U: What is your favorite memory of 2011?

faith fridays: what hope looks like

2011-12-30T00:01:00.004-06:00

The other day, I found out what hope looks like. It seemed powerful, yes bright enough, to share. You might know someone like I do; someone who is beginning to wonder if hope exists, who insists that the glimmer of light beyond the bend may not even exist.

At the point at which this dear person began to see a glimmer of something, I became determined to help her grasp hard onto that glimmer. I wanted to help her keep that hope clearly in her sights. So I asked her to come up with a list of things to look forward to, things that could keep her moving toward the glimmer, things to remember in moments when hope seems, again, in short supply.

Keep in mind, the person of whom I speak is young with much life ahead, so the list will reflect that. She is talented and worthy of so many things, but she's barely begun to explore her capabilities because other forces have been in the way. I know that those obstacles won't disappear overnight. This is a process. But...it seems to me, as I look at friends with cancer and other huge roadblocks in their lives, if we can't keep fixed on hope, what else is there? Seeing around the bend, even when we know we can't be THERE yet, is essential to our emotional, mental and spiritual health.

So, here's what hope looks like to a young gal that I'm intent on helping seeing through to that place around the bend:

- Get my driver's license
- Get a job
- Get a car
- Graduate high school
- Go to college for four years
- Become an elementary school teacher
- Find someone who loves me, my family and God as much as I do
- Have three children
- Read one book per week for a whole year straight
- Receive a scholarship to the school of my dreams (which I have yet to dream up)
- Go to the abortion mill to pray every single Wednesday this summer
- Inspire someone
- Be in a musical
- Help someone who's going through a rough time in their life
- Go to Mass every Sunday without complaining
- Ride a horse, sidesaddle
- Travel the world
- Learn a new language
- Stand up for what I believe in
- Witness a miracle
- Live to be a grandmother

Q4U: What do you most hope for right now?

writing wednesdays: stuff and stuff

2011-12-28T00:01:00.003-06:00

If you didn't hear my brother-in-law play Silent Night on his I-phone during our family Christmas concert yet, you must visit yesterday's post first.

For those wishing to read my latest column about dealing with the stuff that proliferates on a daily basis in our lives, head on over to Peace Garden Writer!

Here's wishing you've all had the merriest of Christmases, with hopes of a very Happy and Writing-Full New Year!

mama mondays: family christmas concert

2011-12-27T08:40:00.001-06:00

Okay, so it's not really Monday. Monday sort of slipped away in the post-Christmas haze. Which is why I'm trying to recapture it.

This post is really for the music lovers, especially those who don't mind a few flaws here and there. Below are bits of the concert our family participated in and enjoyed in my grandmother's living room Christmas evening. It includes some, but not all, of the performances carried out by my sister Camille's and my children, along with a few extras from the adults. Please forgive the rather blooper-filled duet that the two of us sang. The last time we performed this together for an audience was over 20 years ago.

Links will bring you to a 6-year-old on harmonica, 11-year-old on clarinet, 12- and 14-year-old on piano, 16-year-old on baritone, two old gals singing, and a special performance of Silent Night on an Iphone that you won't want to miss. Turn up the sound and hear the amalgamation of music and technology at its finest by my brother-in-law Chris, who doubles as a high-school music teacher.

Christmas blessings to all! It's not over yet -- not until Epiphany, and not even then for those of us with hope in our hearts.

Enjoy!

Christmas eve special

2011-12-24T08:06:00.002-06:00

Greetings, dear readers of Peace Garden Mama!

On this beautiful Christmas Eve, I'm happy to share a link to an article I wrote for our local daily newspaper, The Forum. The article details the journey of two local women to the Holy Land. Enjoy!

And from our family to yours, have a very Merry Christmas!

faith fridays: no longer taking Christ for granted

2011-12-23T00:01:00.001-06:00

It's been a rich Advent for me; an Advent that will end very soon now as we make way for the illuminating Christ.

One of the deepest revelations I've had these past weeks is how much I've taken this Christ thing for granted in my 43 years as a Christian. It is my fervent hope that from here on out I will never again fail to realize just how precious this faith of ours truly is.

There have been a few things that have led to this clarity. One has been listening to a friend describe her trip to the Holy Land and how beautiful but volatile the area is; how religious affiliations are posted on passports and could be the deciding factor on whether you make it back home, or finish college, or see your best friend again.

And then there have been things I've come across, like this article about the situation in North Korea from a Christian perspective. I've been blind to the atrocities, I'm afraid, yet many are suffering under an oppressive regime. In such a regime, there is no room for God, not to mention Christ.

In this article from Crosswalk.com, a work of university professor William Cavanaugh, Migrations of the Holy: God, State, and the Political Meaning of the Church, is referenced. Cavanaugh explains the dangers of a government that absorbs its society into itself. North Korea, the reporter notes, is a picture of what happens when the state is full-grown and controls everything.

According to the article, Cavanuagh explains that in healthy societies, churches, voluntary organizations, political parties, and family are all intermediate associations that serve as buffers between the individual and the raw power of the state. "North Korea has eliminated all but the family. Yet even in the family, how much trust can there be if you can go to a concentration camp for something stupid your relative says or does? Better to disassociate even from family and trust no one."

Imagine living in an environment in which you must disassociate from everyone dear to you in order to survive. There is no life in that that I can see.

Cavanaugh also points out that in North Korea, politics and economics are one. "...the state is deified, Caesar is God, and human freedom and dignity are crushed." Meanwhile, the "dear leader" is getting drunk on liquor that costs hundreds of dollars a bottle. (How else can he live with himself, after all?)

So what does this have to do with Christ? Everything. For, as the article points out, "Advent reminds us of the coming of the eternal King who is Truth and in whom there is no shadow of falsehood. He came once in humility to shame the powerful in their lies. He comes today to rule over his people and to set us free with his Truth."

Most of us have no idea how fortunate we are through our ability to embrace our God and live in the light of truth and love. When you are celebrating with your families this Christmas, I hope you will be mindful, as I am now, that being with family, no matter how imperfect they might be, is a supreme blessing. Welcoming and worshiping our Lord Jesus Christ with them? There's nothing sweeter nor more important.

During his Wednesday address, the Pope said:

"Dear brothers and sisters, let us joyously live the feast of Christmas, which now draws near. Let us live this wondrous event: The Son of God again is born "today"; God is truly close to each one of us, and He wants to meet us -- He wants to bring us to Himself. He is the true light, which dispels and dissolves the darkness enveloping our lives and mankind. Let us live the Lord's birth by contemplating the path of God's immense love, which raised us to Himself through the mystery of the incarnation, passion, death and resurrection of His Son, for -- as St. Augustine affirms -- "In [Christ] the divinity of the Only Begotten was made a partaker of our mortality, so that we might be made partakers of His immortality" (Letter 187,6,20: PL 33: 839-840)."

Jesus is coming! Don't miss the significance of the arrival of this tiny babe. And please, if at all possible, have the merriest of Christmases!

writing wednesdays: what's blue, cozy and practical?

2011-12-21T00:01:00.007-06:00

Here's a hint: it's not fuzzy blue slippers, nor a warm robe with blue paint stains all over it.

So what is it?

If you've been hanging out here long enough to know that Wednesdays on Peace Garden Mama are all about teasing, then you already know the drill. Yep, I'm over at the usual mid-week spot today, Peace Garden Writer. If you didn't know already (but do now), then what are you waiting for?

Or, you could stay here and just keep guessing. :) But that will get old, won't it? See you soon, I hope!

mama mondays: four-candle fever (weekend recap for Santa)

2011-12-19T00:01:00.052-06:00

Grandma Bev and Adam readying for dinner by Advent candlelight

Dear Santa,

I need to begin this letter by stating this upfront: I have been a good girl. By that I mean I have truly immersed myself in the season of Advent. I have not rushed the stage, so to speak, as I've been wont to do in the past. Though every Christmas season is different, in recent years I've learned what makes for a truly blessed celebration. Oh, it's taken a while, and many lessons along the way, but I get it now, Santa. It really is about letting the quiet take hold and reflecting on the beautiful gift we're about to witness.

But I haven't been perfect. This weekend, I'll admit, I let loose just a little. I think it was that fourth candle that did it, Santa. The FOURTH CANDLE! You realize what this means. And Santa, I've held back for so long that I allowed myself a little pre-Christmas celebrating this weekend. But hear me out. I think you'll approve.

One of my favorite moments of the weekend was when my sweet mother-in-law and I took the girls out for coffee. Boy, did we need that little java break! When the girls walked over to the blackboard and read all of the "What's your favorite holiday tradition" remarks, and added their own, well, I just felt an injection of the warm fuzzies. It was one of those moments I'll treasure for lots of special little reasons.

This was so fun, too, Santa, when our Nick, your namesake, donned the old St. Nick headgear. He wears it almost as well as you do, my fine friend.

And this was a great moment as well...a girl, a laptop and a cat. (Ahem, let's not forget those furry boots. What more needs to be said except to thank Grandma Bev for her photo work?)

As you well know, Santa, part of our weekend required celebration. I mean, how can I not rejoice over the golden birthday of my firstborn son? Look at him here, just a decade ago, though it seems like yesterday. He was so excited to have his birthday at Space Aliens with his friends. (Oh my, I did look festive in my alien-ears headband, didn't I?).

And here he is now...wow. I just can't believe he's this big. I mean, he's really more man than boy now by the looks of it. It seemed so far off just a short while ago.

The celebrating didn't really stop for long this weekend. The impromptu concert the kids put on just before their grandparents headed out was so unexpected, and so lovely! How could a mama not feel deeply blessed by such sweet music?

Thankfully we had a chance to quiet down, just long enough to take part in a little celebration we've come to know as the Joy Bag, courtesy of our first-grader. (See post on a past Joy Bag event for more...). It was beautiful; truly it was. And as you know (because you see all) we ended it by opening some gifts early. It was our daughter's suggestion (the gifts were from her) and seemed like the right thing to do. I can't help but giggle remembering what a hit the "noise putty" was, and how much fun the boys had making "farting" sounds with the putty. (*sigh) Laughter really is the best medicine, and we had quite a bit of that erupting through the house this weekend.

So Santa, we did let that fourth candle get to us. But I think this is how it was supposed to be. It was a really good weekend, and despite the festive mood, I'm still holding fast to what it's all about. Truth be told, I don't need much else for Christmas.

Well, there is that one thing...but I can wait.

See you soon, Santa. I'll be up watching for you, waiting with the coffee for you and the sugar cubes for the reindeer, just like when I was a little girl. Safe travels. It might be rough-landing on the snow-less landscape this year, but I trust you've maneuvered your way through all kinds of scenarios and will handle it as well as always.

Love,

Roxane

P.S. If you want to hear our little guy playing just a wee bit of "Spirit of the Radio" by Rush as you're getting ready to load up your sleigh, go here. He's just starting out but we're impressed by how quickly he's catching on. Maybe this will help you feel more confident the musical gift he's requested is the right fit.

faith fridays: the golden fish (a conversion story)

2011-12-16T00:01:00.084-06:00

I've recently become familiar with the work and life of Eric Metaxas, a father, husband and Yale graduate perhaps best known in the world of Christian parenting for his award-winning Veggie Tales stories. But Metaxas is much more than a cartoon-character creator and humorist. He's also the author of some serious and best-selling books, including his latest, a biography on Dietrich Bonhoeffer -- pastor, spy and martyr. Bonhoeffer played a part in the so-called Valkyrie plot to kill Hitler, which failed.

I interviewed Metaxas by phone from Seattle, where he was doing some work before heading back to his New York City residence. He'll be speaking in our area in March, so I had the privilege of picking his brain a bit to help introduce him to our community. When I asked him what drives him, he credited his faith, but also admitted to many "rudderless" years earlier in his life. Groundwork for faith had been evident during his German-Greek Orthodox childhood, but he'd mostly renounced the possibility of God as an enlightened college student.

In his mid-20s, Metaxas had begun looking for answers to life's biggest questions and came upon various theories, including Carl Jung's idea of the collective unconsciousness to define God. Around that time his uncle became ill and fell into a coma. When a friend offered prayers, Metaxas was taken aback, moved by the thought that some people actually believed there was a God who cared enough to listen to earthly concerns. When his friend suggested they pray together, he said yes, surprising himself, and in that conversation, he felt an interior shift. Shortly thereafter, he had a dream that changed everything, as he explains in an online video of his conversion.

Several elements merged in the dream; the symbolism of his Greek Orthodox heritage, his love of fishing and his own intellectual ideas melding Jung and Freud. In his waking hours, he'd imagined a frozen lake with the ice being the conscious mind and the water beneath being the unconscious mind, or God. He'd concluded that the goal of life was for the two to have some kind of conversation, and that one should strive to drill a hole into the ice to get at the moving water below.

In his dream he was standing on a frozen lake ice-fishing. He recalls glorious sunshine and brilliant blue sky. He looked down and saw a fish coming up through the fishing hole, so he leaned down and picked it up by the gill. It was a golden fish -- like in a fairytale -- a miracle, he said.

And suddenly, he recognized that the fish was Christ and that God was speaking to him through the dream. "I realized, it's true. Jesus is real and I have him, I'm holding him," he recounted, "and I'm flooded with joy because I realized God used my own symbol system to sort of one-up me, to blow my mind, because all I wanted to do was reach through the ice and touch this inert water, and God is saying, 'No, I have something more for you. I have my son, Jesus Christ, and He's a living person. He's alive.'"

Ever since hearing this story, I can't get it out of my mind. Perhaps it's my propensity toward visual learning, combined with my own love of fishing and fond childhood memories of ice-fishing in particular. I can't help but wonder what ways Christ may be pushing up through the ice of my life to draw me toward the living water.

I commented at my faith-sharing group the other day, on the Feast of St. Lucy, how much in the dark we are in this life; that there is so much we can't see and know right now. I see Metaxas' symbol of the frozen lake as the visible of our lives, and the water beneath as all that is invisible now, but that we'll see someday. I also believe we're given glimpses of this living water during our earthly journey but not the ability to fully immerse in it.

Conversion stories invigorate me, and even though this isn't a Catholic conversion story, it won't be the first time I've been deeply moved by the example of a fellow Protestant sister or brother in Christ. A recent newspaper article I wrote about a fellow faith mother and blogging friend inspired me plenty. I hope it will have the same effect on you. Here it is.

Also, if you're interested: Metaxas' conversion story in his own words.

Q4U: Advent is as much about conversion as anything else, it seems to me. What about conversion is most inspiring to you?

thursday special: newspaper profile

2011-12-15T00:08:00.002-06:00

I don't post on Thursdays...unless something extra-special is going on.

Today, a profile I wrote for the SheSays section of The Forum newspaper is up! I met Vicky Westra a little over a year ago -- through blogging -- and have been blessed by our crossing. In March, she was diagnosed with Stage 3 breast cancer, but she hasn't let that stop her from living. And now I have the honor of sharing some of her story (much of it through her words) with you.

I'm so grateful to Vicky for the thoughtful chat that led to this story, as well as for her husband, Rick, for his contribution! You inspire me through how you live your life, Vicky, and I'm privileged to be even a small part of your journey. :)

Enjoy...

writing wednesdays: shhhh....

2011-12-14T00:01:00.007-06:00

I hear something. It's the sound of a book giveaway winner being announced. Perfect for Christmas break settling-in!

And there's something else. Do you hear it as well? If not, head over the Peace Garden Writer to see what's up!

~~See~~ Hear you over there!

PGM

mama mondays: numbers and words

2011-12-12T00:01:00.031-06:00

This first one is courtesy of my husband. Apparently our 6-year-old came home with a piece of paper, and on said paper, a phone number...from a girl. Seems she thought he should have her number.

"But what I want to know," Troy said, "is, Is she cute?" To which small son blushed and nodded.

Oh boy. What's next? A little black book so he can record all the phone numbers he's collecting?

In more weekend news, my sister wrote to share one of her pre-Christmas frustrations; namely, the question, "So, are you ready for Christmas?"

"Yes, my heart is ready," she explained, "but no, my house...shopping...baking...are not ready." It's been 25 years or so since my sis and I shared the same space for any great length of time, but there are some things about which we are still very much in sync. My Facebook status update this week said virtually the same thing.

So my question is, Can we slow this train down just a little?

Actually, it was Gaudete Sunday yesterday, which means...the train is accelerating whether we want it to or not. And that's not all bad. I think I'm having a hard time believing Christmas is coming because...well, there is absolutely NO snow on the ground, and it reached 43 degrees today in Fargo, one of the coldest cities in the country.

I did make it out to the Shanley High School choir concert tonight. It's always a beautiful event, headed up by the talented Rebecca Raber, and definitely gets my head in the right place about the season we're in.

A couple Fridays back Mrs. Raber asked if I could write a poem to be used in the concert. I told her I could try, with the condition that if it didn't work, she wouldn't be obligated to use it. I'm pleased she was able to work a couple stanzas of it into the final piece. They were read at the very end of "Silent Night," in the candle-lit sanctuary of our church, while the choir sung "oooos." For your Advent pleasure, I hereby present the poem in its entirety. I hope you enjoy!

Contradictory Emergence

Oh grace-filled night, oh star-lit sea
Consider the sweet dichotomy
That He would enter the world at night
This precious babe, our Lord of light

Expectations turned upside-down
A tiny cry to announce the crown
His strong right arm they waited to see
Instead, soft limb waved gently

A kingly mansion, dwelling of awe
Evolves into a bed of straw
Crowds and confetti, echoing cheers
Replaced by simplicity, joy-filled tears

Quiet evening, holy solution
Birth that would start a revolution
The mighty lion lay down with the lamb
A paradoxically thought-up plan

Gentle babe, devoid of sin
Diminutive size to draw us in
God knew the scandal you would bring
Oh tiny leader, peace-filled king

Our Lord is a Lord of contradiction
Prompt of subversive opposition
Teacher of power by humility
Divinity one with humanity

Silent night, ignite our souls
Renew our vision, warm the cold
Through star-speckled eve of illumination
Blessed heavenly anticipation

- Roxane B. Salonen

faith fridays: meeting God in the silence of advent

2011-12-09T00:01:00.022-06:00

We're coming up on the third week of Advent. It's nearly time for the pink candle! Which means that by now, if we're doing Advent right, we should have met God a time or two in the silence of this season.

What I don't mean by that is that there is a perfect way to do Advent. Not at all! What I do mean is that this season is for us! It was created for us so that we might pull back long enough to reflect on what's coming. And what's coming is no small thing, even if He was packaged that way at the entrance.

This week during my show on Real Presence Radio, I had the honor of doing an hour-long segment on Advent with a local priest and another regular guest. Both will be involved in heading up a silent, Ignatian retreat in the coming months. Even though it's a ways off, the retreat seemed a natural fit for a talk on Advent, when quiet becomes a necessity if we're to meet God and hear what it is that He's trying to tell us.

"But aren't most people scared of silence or pulling away to be quiet?" I asked the priest. The answer I got in return: Yes, this is often the case, but if they knew they were not going to be alone with themselves, and instead were going to hang out with God, they might approach it differently.

Indeed! Though I've become more comfortable with silence -- and often crave it -- in recent years, I can understand the propensity of some to run the other way when presented with an opportunity to quiet down, to just...listen.

Following through on my question about the fear of silence that many people have, Rachelle, promoter of the retreat, said, "You can't believe how much God talks when you give Him the chance!"

In other words, we need not be fearful of the quiet. As the priest also noted, "It's again that difference between loneliness and solitude."

Loneliness is when we are alone, in the dark all by ourselves. Like a scared child at night who has not yet learned to tap into the antidote to the bogeyman's powers -- God -- we flee to our parents' bedroom and hope they might have a soft word to share, or a soft space in the middle for us to rest if we're really lucky.

But solitude is something else entirely. In solitude, we are not alone. God is with us, and God is big enough to fill all of the dark spaces that encircle us on a daily basis if we but shift our position just a bit and make room for Him.

And here's the even better news. Even though retreats are amazing and we should all experience them on occasion (they are just plain good for the soul), we can find this solitude, this quiet reserved for a conversation with God, wherever we are. For example, I started out my week (after dropping off the kids at school) on my bed with a book of Scripture readings. I read some of them and asked God to be with me in the week ahead. I opened my heart to make room for Him. I've felt Him with me every day of the week and I know that this orienting myself to God played no small part in that.

Q4U: Where was your favorite quiet "space" this week? How did you prepare for it? What did it feel like to spend some time there?

writing wednesdays: what emily dickinson ate

2011-12-07T00:01:00.000-06:00

You do want to know, right?

I'll give you just one hint:

Give up? Well then, guess you'll have to find out on today's Peace Garden Writer. See you there!

mama mondays: advent events: lavish or luminous?

2011-12-05T00:01:00.078-06:00

Snippet of mural backdrop for 2011 Concordia College Christmas Concert

This weekend I received a beautiful Advent surprise when my dear mother-in-law -- the woman with whom I share the gift and joy of singing -- called to say it might be my lucky day. Someone in her bus tour that was to visit our city to take in the highly-regarded Concordia College Christmas Concert had fallen ill and offered her the extra ticket. Would I by any chance be available? By divine hand, to be sure, my schedule was clear during the time of the concert. Weeee!

So off I went to take in this breathtaking event for the second year in a row. It was one more occasion to help prepare my heart for the joyous season that awaits.

Depiction of The Peaceable Kingdom by mural artist Paul Johnson

Artist Paul Johnson's rendition of the journey to Bethlehem

These glimpses of the program are all I can share with you of my afternoon, since photography wasn't permitted of the concert itself. At the very least, you can glean from these images the whimsical feel the artist who painted the background mural was going for.

I could gush for the rest of the post about the five choirs, orchestra, three conductors and two narrators who overwhelmed me (in a very good way) to the point of tears with this presentation. But such a post would be unfair. One, I can't do it justice, and two, another related matter has come to my attention that seems more worthy of my purposes here.

The gist of the issue: perspective, and how it can differ from one person to the next. When I was younger, I loved mushrooms (as I do to this day). I found them to be juicy and succulent. My sister, on the other hand, deemed them slimy and bland. Same food item, different perspective.

So back again to Advent. A family friend attended the very same concert as my MIL, her friend and I, but his reaction contrasted my own. Though he did call it a thrilling event, he added that it likely was not the kind of birthday gift Christ would most appreciate. I'm guessing he found it too lavish for Jesus' tastes.

Similarly, I'd shared my Advent post from last week with this same person, and rather than ingesting what I had tried to convey through my post -- the simplicity and beauty of the Advent season -- he remarked in an email that he was "disappointed" in the post and said that from what I shared, it looked to be a very "posh" celebration focusing on "the good life with abundant food, exquisite table settings and family joys." He added that the overemphasis on one's immediate family does not honor the Gospel of Jesus Christ since his own family connects were overshadowed by concern for the suffering humanity.

As I chewed on how to respond, I realized my thoughts might be worthy to share with you readers today.

Firstly, he didn't attend any of the events I wrote about so was at a disadvantage. But if the intent of my post was missed, I think it's important to clarify.

What moved me most about all of these events were the very things he thought were missing: simplicity, beauty, humility, hope, love, and joy at the thought of Christ coming into our world and what that would mean. I don't know what could get more humble and beautiful at this time of year than tiny dancers and singers gracing the altar and space of a church called Nativity.

As for the other two events put on by the Mothers and Children groups, perhaps the desserts and table settings seemed posh to the outsider, but let me assure you, the perceived "extravagance" was only a ruse -- an excuse for us to get together in order that we might return to a mindset of simplicity. I can't imagine that gathering to listen to Advent reflections and songs focusing on the most profound and humble of stories -- the Annunciation -- in order to ponder the coming of the Christ child in our own hearts could offend God.

A few more bullet points to consider:

* Women have a natural propensity for serving others. In the right circumstances, our hearts dance to be able to do for others. Yes, it's a sacrifice to prepare a table and bring to it our special flair and beauty. It's a sacrifice to stay up to the wee hours of the night baking a cake that was looking to come out all wrong, as my table host and busy mother of two confessed. But the end result and how it filled our hearts with hope was worth it.

* As such, we need to fill back up if we're to do the giving we truly want to do. Just as we're inclined to serve, so are we inclined to give away too much of ourselves. Most every woman I know is guilty as charged. The Advent events put on by the mothers gave those invited a chance to be rejuvenated in order to give more with joy.

* I'm concerned by the thought that paying attention to our families first and foremost might be seen as a negative. If we don't focus first on our families and building up the future generation, we are in a boatload of trouble. Thank God there are families who turn inward first so that their children can grow up to be healthy adults; adults who learned first through their nuclear families how to be generous. Mother Teresa espoused the idea that we cannot do great things, only things with great love, and that serving the needy in our midst -- oftentimes those right in front of us -- is where we must begin. What would happen if all the mothers in the world got up and left their homes right now, abandoned their families, in order to feed the poor when their own children are hungry -- not only for food but spiritual nourishment? What if women quit having children because they were too consumed with helping others? The world would cease to exist.

Sometimes it takes a contrary opinion to help me go deep with my thoughts, and for that, I thank the family friend who reached out to tell me how offended by my post he was. I remain grateful and gratified by these Advent surprises and the love that is brewing in my heart because of them; warm and joyful feelings I will now offer back to others in the days ahead.

Q4U: What will you do for and with your family this Advent and Christmas season to fill up enough to go out and share what Christ came to teach us?

faith fridays: what advent means to me

2011-12-02T00:01:00.109-06:00

What does Advent mean to me? Oh, let me count thy ways it lights up my life!

This is my absolute favorite time of the Church year. It is the beautiful build-up to one of the most monumental events in history, not just to the faithful but to the secular world as well (the evidence of Jesus' existence and impact is woven throughout our world in myriad ways even if we hardly recognize them because they are so ingrained).

But just as the season itself is a build-up, it's taken me my whole life to truly appreciate the meaning of Advent and learn some fruitful ways of approaching the season.

Turning to simplicity is a start: the simple act of lighting one purple candle and watching it glow. What a rush that brings to me now each and every time! That light is powerful; a beginning of something utterly astounding: God entering our human world so that we might get to know Him and understand better how to love. (wow!)

I have to admit, though, that certain events in recent years have helped me more fully immerse myself in this place of beauty, peace, restfulness, calm anticipation.

Last year was my first Advent celebration by candlelight for women at a local parish. The evening included beautifully decorated tables, all individually designed by table hosts, along with coffee and dessert, lots of happy womanly chatter, music and a talk on Advent. I was there as the speaker then and had the honor of helping to dedicate the evening to my friend Roberta, founder of the group and fellow mother of five who had left our world a few weeks prior. This year, I returned not as a speaker but a guest at one of the tables. And oh, was that a lovely experience!

I went to the wrong table at first, passing by one bearing a tempting red-velvet cake. I drooled over it -- one of my favorites -- and thought how lucky those women were to get to sample that. A short while later I found out that was my table after all. The baker added some lemon rind to the frosting to give it just a hint of citrus loveliness.

The would have started my Advent off right and well, but the very next night another local parish put on a similar event, modeled after the first, and asked a friend and I and a pianist (also a friend) to do the music. One of the songs we sang was a duet, "To My Surprise," which is really a conversation between Mary and Elizabeth. We felt honored to be part of this special gathering of women.

And then last night our Catholic elementary school presented its annual Advent program. My good friend Katie is the choreographer, and I am always utterly impressed by the grace she coaxes out of the little dancers. Here's a sampling of the final song (love those sweet voices):

And here are the first-graders doing one of their numbers, my youngest son among them. They are so wiggly and precious!

Speaking of first-graders, the Joy Bag will make an appearance at our home soon. Here's a preview from a couple years ago.

This...is what Advent has come to mean to me. Joy-filled celebrations, light in the darkness, hopeful expectation, surprises, warmth, love, peace. I start out the season with these events filling up my mind and heart and then try my hardest to carry the feeling that emanates from these to me into the rest of the days; all leading up to the biggest-event yet.

To me, Christmas would be a fairly meaningless holiday without Advent, just as Easter would not be nearly as powerful without Lent. In the life of the Church, these festivities are all part of the whole. And they add a depth to my life for which I am truly grateful.

One more video (here), and this one you won't want to sidestep. In a mere two minutes it says everything Advent should be in a way that makes me even more excited to breathe it all in!

Q4U: What is your favorite Advent memory?

writing wednesdays: a gal after my own heart

2011-11-30T00:01:00.008-06:00

Why did I so readily welcome my new writing friend M.B. Tosi to be a guest on my blog? Well, she's a gal after my own heart; someone who has an appreciation for the story of the American Indian and who wants to shed light on the past in order to pave the way to a more peaceful future.

I have yet to read the book that she's giving away today on Peace Garden Writer, but you can bet I'm looking forward to the day I can curl up with it! Head over there to add your comment to the bunch to be considered in the drawing!

See you soon!

mama mondays: wedding memory more meaningful 20 years later

2011-11-28T00:01:00.032-06:00

Coming off a holiday weekend, it's a little hard knowing where to focus my Monday thoughts. So much has happened.

The youngest Salonens giving their best Thanksgiving pose

I could write about my daughter's first attempt at apple pie with Grandma, or the layered Asian dip we made together.

I could write about my favorite part of the weekend -- when my son Adam crawled up into my lap and fell asleep.

We had a mini Christmas with the Salonen side, so I could write a little about that, too. The book my son got as a gag gift, for instance (Miss Manners: Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior...National Bestseller???).

Or the purply moment when oldest daughter opened up her Justin Bieber perfume.

But there's something else rising above...something that was hidden in last week's busyness. Our 20th wedding anniversary. This is a photo of a photo so not the best, but here we were on November 23, 1991.

And here we are November 24, 2011, the day after we celebrated two decades of married life.

This does feel like a victory to me. We've been through a lot in that time. We met when we were 18, married at 23. We've had 20 years to work out the immaturity we both brought into the marriage, and at 43, we're getting closer. We've brought five live children into the world, and experienced the death of one in miscarriage. There have been a fair amount of ups and downs.

But when the dust of the past 20 years settles, some shining treasures glimmer, and I want to share one of them today.

This weekend, Troy and I wrote letters to one another. We chose a topic and wrote in separate spheres, then swapped letters. The topic: What is your favorite memory of our wedding day? Amazingly, we both chose the very same memory.

The wedding dance wasn't quite over, but we were exhausted, so we sneaked away to have a bite to eat at a nearby fast-food restaurant, Hardees, located just a few blocks from where we live now. I remember feeling relieved, because as much as I loved being surrounded by family and friends, the pressure was off. It was just the two of us.

Or at least I thought. I wasn't prepared for the gazes of the few patrons and workers that greeted us. I hadn't planned on their smiles and their desire to chat with us about marriage. Without realizing it as we opened the doors to the restaurant, our mere presence was something of a testimony to the strangers we were encountering.

It's a memory that, for both of us, signaled the moment when we were finally together, just the two of us, as a married couple. Additionally, in hindsight I see it as a moment when I realized the power of marriage; how important it is to be a visible sign of the sacrament. In a time when marriage is being less regarded as sacred, it's more important than ever that the world sees signs of hope through marriages that, while not perfect, have pushed through some truly shaky moments to get to the other side and stand as a witness of perseverance.

I'm going to end with a paragraph in Troy's letter that stood out to me, even caused me to laugh out loud at the recognition of truth: "I'm sure it was quite a sight to see the bride and groom in a fast-food restaurant on their wedding day. It's kind of funny, but that really is who we are, still to this day; just a couple trying to make it through the busy day, not spending too much money, and just enjoying the simple things in life. We've come a long way, but in the lot of ways we're still exactly the same."

Twenty years, and so much changed but so much still the same. I take comfort in that.

Q4U: What is your favorite memory of your wedding day, or another celebration of significance?

faith fridays: the letter that changed everything

2011-11-25T00:01:00.040-06:00

"You should have seen what happened at school today. Everyone was crying," my eighth-grader shared in the van late last week.

I could tell she wanted to say more, but it was just too hard with her siblings all around fighting for air time. But from her expression, I knew that though it had been an emotion-filled day, it wasn't necessarily in a bad way. And then I remembered the all-day retreat. The tear-filled afternoon must have be linked to that.

Once her siblings had disappeared into the house, she pulled out a folded-up piece of paper from her backpack and began reading it out loud. "Listen to this, Mom." She wouldn't be sharing unless it really mattered. I perked up.

It was a letter from God that had been given to her and her classmates. She was only a few lines into repeating it for my sake when my own internal waterworks were tapped. Just a little wetness in the eyes, but how could one so loved not react? This is the stuff that moves the world, not to mention an individual heart.

Around this time last year, I'd just begun an email conversation with an atheist gal my age. One of the most confounding aspects of what she revealed to me in our months-long conversation was her version of God. Let's just say it was far from pretty; in fact, it was downright horrifying. If that had been the God to whom I'd been introduced, I'd have run the other way, too.

Somehow, gratefully, I missed the memo about God being a tyrant. Instead, I have been fed a steady diet of loving thoughts from my Lord and Savior from my earliest years as a Christian. And it's made all the difference.

Words can either draw in or repel. The words God has expressed to me through His never-ending letter of love have been true sustenance for my soul. If only atheists could know this love. It would change everything for them, too. I pray that this letter will reach every last one of God's children, that all will know of their uniqueness and eternal worth.

I'm going to let Jesus take over from here. This one's for you. Yes, you...

My dear child,

I love you (John 15:9). I have called you by name, you are mine (Isaiah 43:1). Before I formed you, I knew you. And before you were born, I consecrated you (Jeremiah 1:5). You did not choose me, I chose you (John 15:16). Because you are precious to me, and honored, I love you (Isaiah 43:4). I have loved you with an everlasting love and I will continue my constant love (Jeremiah 31:3).

How can I abandon you? My love for you is too strong (Hosea 11:8). I love you so much that I hung on the cross at Calvary. I died for you, and if you believe in Me, you will have everlasting life (John 3:16).

Can a woman forget her own baby and not love the child she bore? Yet even should she forget, I will never forget you. I cannot forget you. I formed you in the palm of my hands (Isaiah 49:15-16). I am with you always until the end of the world (Matthew 28:20).

Do not let your heart be troubled, trust in me (John 14:1). I will help you (Isaiah 41:13). When you pass through deep waters, I will be with you. Your troubles will not overwhelm you. My rod and my staff will comfort you. I will lead you in the path of righteousness (Psalm 23). I will give you peace in the midst of a storm. Don't let your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid (John 14:27). The peace I give you surpasses all understanding (Philippians 4:7).

My eyes are upon you and I will give you hope, for I am merciful (Psalm 33:18). You will have access to my grace and rejoice in hope while sharing in the glory of my Father (Romans 5:2). You may have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your heart will rejoice and no one will take your joy from you (John 16:22).

Do not worry (Luke 12:9). Even the hairs on your head have all been counted, so there is no need to be afraid of anything (Matthew 10:30). The mountains may depart and the hills will be shaken but my steadfast love for you will never end (Isaiah 54:10).

Come unto me, all who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest (Matthew 11:28). I will be true and faithful. I will show you constant love and make you mine forever. I will keep my promise, and you will really know me then as never before. I am the Lord your God (Hosea 13:4).

Your Faithful Friend,
Jesus

Yeah, so, just in case you forgot...you are loved. Always and forever. No matter what. And if you ever need a reminder...there it is.

Q4U: Which of Jesus' words of love affect you the most?

writing wednesdays: prairie writing and anniversary

2011-11-23T00:01:00.003-06:00

Today on Peace Garden Writer, I'm talking prairie writing. I hope you'll enjoy my reflections! Please chime in with any thoughts!

Today on the Salonen frontier, my hubby and I are toasting to 20 years of marriage. Though our plans for celebration are not of an extravagant nature, this feels like a big one to me!

Troy and Roxane Salonen, Chicago, 2007

Thanks, as always, for stopping by. I appreciate my readers and am thankful for each one of you who takes the time to regard my rants. :)

mama mondays: adam's alien abduction

2011-11-21T00:01:00.031-06:00

Over the years, we've experienced a few alien abductions here. Particularly during winter-time birthdays when the thought of in-house gatherings for a bunch of boys borders on insanity.

The first year was the year Space Aliens Restaurant opened up in Fargo. Our middle son, Adam, was still only a thought in the mind of God. His older brother was in kindergarten, just turning six, and was among the first group of kids to meet the infamous house alien.

Back then, alien headbands were included in the party package.

About five years ago, Daddy Troy chose abduction over insanity for his birthday, and the little boys couldn't have been more thrilled. Tickets in the game room = cheap prizes that never fail to delight.

This year, Adam experienced his first birthday-party abduction. With Thanksgiving bumping into birthday, we had to jumpstart the partying.

The aliens were still imprisoned but smiling.

Adam (r) and pal (l)

The game room and its gadgets did not disappoint.

The cupcakes were intoxicatingly yummy.

Best of all? No mess to clean up at home! (Okay, that perk's mainly for Mama Roxane).

(Love it when teen sisters have their own agenda and won't cooperate for the obligatory end-of-party photo...)

*Sigh...

They were right when they said it goes fast. It really, really does.

Happy Birthday Week, Adam! You are truly out of this world!

faith fridays: in God's lap

2011-11-18T00:01:00.072-06:00

This is me around age 7, cuddling up with my first puppy after a week at camp away from him. He wasn't the first puppy I'd loved, but the first I'd actually picked out and claimed as my own rather than picked up as a stray from our town filled with vagabond pups.

This photo depicts best how I'm feeling right now. Maybe it's knowing the holidays and colder weather are coming; that shift from exterior to interior. I suspect there's more to it, though, and not all of it is nameable.

What I do know is that I'm yearning for Abba Father. I'm needing a bit of a resting place, some soft spot to go to curl up and let go for a while.

I'm thinking of a time I fell asleep in my father's arms. He was wearing a Pendelton shirt, a little on the scratchy side but simultaneously comforting. I was curled up in his arms near the fireplace in the living room of my grandparents' home. I recall the padding of his heartbeat against my ear, his rhythmic breathing, and the gentle resonance of people talking quietly all around. It was the epitome of safe. Even after I awoke, I just stayed there for a long while, allowing myself to feel the warmth of the fire and his sure, safe arms before re-entering the colder world beyond his lap.

That's what I'm wanting right now. And I know that this need isn't something any human being can fulfill. So I won't go expecting it of anyone in my life. There's only one place to go for it.

I tried twice yesterday to go to Adoration, but each attempt was unsuccessful. So I will keep trying. Eventually I'll get there, and it will be worth it.

The world can be cold. I just found out last night that my little boys were exposed to a sexually explicit R-rated movie in my and my husband's absence. My heart breaks contemplating their punctured innocence, and the fact that we weren't there to stop it, to guard their precious souls. I know they are wounded, as I am as their mother. I'm still processing how to deal with this.

Just before that revelation, I attended a session at our Catholic high school about drug use in our area. I learned that heroin use is big right now in our city, and that marijuana is 30 percent stronger now than during the days of Woodstock. There are more emergency room visits related to it than ever before due in part to the dangerous rise of the heart rate associated with its use. The drug ecstasy is also showing up in our school in slightly higher amounts than neighboring schools, according to a poll.

I can do what I can do, but I can't stop this altogether, I can't shield my children from the world that awaits. I'm going to need all the injections of grace I can take in to move through this darker part of the parenting journey, knowing that each passing year my little ones are going to be more and more vulnerable to the forces of evil. And that I'm helpless in the face of some of it.

I need to be fueled anew by that greater force that rises above it all, to store up grace that will be necessary for what's next. I need to cozy up to the Creator again, to go to where He is sitting and waiting, and climb up into His lap. Only there will I find the warmth and hope I'm lacking at present. Once found, I can bring it to my kids, and trust that through it, they will find the love I have for them -- that the Creator has for them -- more attractive than anything else they might be offered as enticement.

In Scripture this morning, I read from 1 Tim: 1:5: "Whereas the aim of our charge is love that issues from a pure heart and a good conscience and sincere faith." That's what I'm seeking in the Creator's embrace. And I know that without going straight to the Source himself, I'll get only cheap substitutions.

I'm heading there. I'm on my way. I'm going for the sustenance I'll need. When I've sat there long enough, when I've gathered up all my strength again and can see the clear path ahead, then I'll be able to do the work I've been sent to do.

Q4U: Where do you go for a re-fueling of the spiritual kind? How do you deal with the darkness?

writing wednesdays: creeping column and book giveaway winner

2011-11-16T00:01:00.003-06:00

All parents should read my latest newspaper column if they want to avoid being accused of Facebook creeping as I was! We need to know our social networking definitions in order to navigate through this mysterious world with grace and tact.

It's over on Peace Garden Writer today. And to make things even more lively, the winner of the book giveaway is revealed! See y'all there...

mama mondays: good news, bad news

2011-11-14T00:01:00.004-06:00

The weekend started out with a bang with our Catholic high school's third state football championship game. Everyone was out of school anyway for Veteran's Day, so the girls and I decided to go (the boys were heading out of town). Good News!

Just after I'd paid the parking and admission fees for the FargoDome, bought an overpriced soda and found a seat, hubby called to say he was pulled over along the side of the Interstate with the boys and his vehicle was smoking and looking like it could possibly be starting on fire. Very Bad News!

So I gathered up my girl chicks and we headed out of town and rescued the boys via minivan. Everyone was okay and, despite the smoke, Troy's rig wasn't on fire (and this photo is a fake). Very Good News!

But the vehicle appears to be toast. Bad News!

Thankfully, Troy's parents happened to have an extra van they aren't using much right now, so offered to lend it to us. Good News!

We got home to the news that the Deacons had gotten pounded in their football game. Bad News!

But there was just enough time to redeem the day by using the tickets I won a few weeks ago for spookiest costume at a Halloween party. Puss N Boots in 3D for me and the little guys! Oh yeah, baby! Good News!

The next morning, middle child had a friend over. They had a blast climbing in the big old tree out front. But then her dad came to pick her up, spoiling the party. Bad News!

A friend of mine came to town and we met for lunch at a yummy Chinese place. The weather was beautiful for a fundraising event I attended. And the boys gave their trip a second attempt, allowing Nick a chance to play his cousins' electric guitar. All Good News!

The boys' exit meant the girls and I would have 24 hours to ourselves. More Good News!

The waiting line at the restaurant where the girls and I decided to eat out was an hour. Bad News!

We had fun anyway. Good News!

I was really groggy the next morning while serving as a cantor for the early Mass. Bad News!

The girls made me proud by helping decorate for a party for one of their former babysitters without me along for guidance. Good News!

Unfortunately, said babysitter is no spring chick anymore. Bad News (depending on how you look at it)!

But the party was a success! Good News!

When it's all added up, there was more good news than bad news. Though we had that scare with the smoking vehicle, all in all, we came away from the weekend feeling pretty blessed!

Q4U: What was the good-bad news of your weekend?

faith fridays: where have all the heroes gone?

2011-11-11T00:01:00.152-06:00

If you've had the pleasure of raising a son, you've undoubtedly experienced the superhero phase; a time when flowing capes on backs (towels and safety pins work too), tights and and big muscles rule the day.

Earlier today I heard a presentation on integrity and it got me thinking about superheroes, the epitome of integrity. Superheroes are the ones we look to and count on when the city has been threatened.

The presentation today took place at a local church that hosts a monthly gathering for Christian business leaders. It always includes a talk by a local pastor. Today, after telling the story of King David's fall from grace upon being seduced by Bathsheba (from 2 Samuel, Chapter 11), Pastor Matthew St. John talked about how desperate we are for leaders of integrity; a quality that can take a lifetime to cultivate but an instant to squander.

"When integrity is shown, it's always a contrast to the norm, to the dynamic in which you are living," he said, noting that integrity is best displayed as we move away from self-absorption. "A life of integrity is typically a product of self-control lived out consistently. It's the pursuit of what is noble."

But it's also costly. In the above-mentioned Scripture story, Uriah, Bathsheba's husband, stood as the example of integrity, but in the end, it cost him his very life.

Nevertheless, it's a worthy pursuit, worthy dying for, even. "In your life, what ensures nobility in the world around you?" Pastor Matthew asked as a challenge.

Though heroes may be in short supply, I've been blessed to have stumbled onto the path of many (some largely unsung) in the course of my Christian walk. Each has influenced my faith life in some way. Though this is just a small sampling, consider it the start of my list of fellow Christians who have inspired me toward a life of integrity in recent years:

Converts to the faith like former atheist Jennifer Fulwiler and Heather King have introduced me to insightful food for thought and helped me appreciate the gift of faith in an invigorating way. They are both thinkers who can turn any argument against the faith on its head, but always, they do so with love and compassion, because of the love and compassion that has been shown them. (Love begets love!)

Abortion attempt survivors have begun springing up to share their stories and I have found them incredibly powerful. Sarah Smith was maimed when an abortion attempt took her twin brother but left her alive in the womb. After surviving the abortion, she was born with bilateral, congenital dislocated hips and many other physical handicaps. Her very existence is a visual victory. Others with similar stories: Melissa Ohden and Gianna Jessen. These women have given a voice to the voiceless.

Abstinence speakers. I heard Pam Stenzel speak here in Fargo last year and won't soon forget it, including the part where she talks about having been conceived in rape. (Hard to imagine such a vibrant person not existing.) Now, she speaks nationally and even internationally on the subject of sexual integrity (there's that word again), addressing young people in particular with the positive message of God's beautiful design for intimacy.

The newly prolife. I've mentioned Abby Johnson before, but I can't say enough about how inspiring her story has been to me. It took an abundance of integrity for Abby to leave her post at Planned Parenthood and cross over to the other side of the fence to begin speaking up for the child in the womb. She put her life on the line and I'm sure it wasn't easy losing friends and so many familiar things, but she did it because she felt it was the right thing to do, and now she's a light to others.

Those choosing the harder path daily. "Steve Gershom," a pseudonym, is a man who is Catholic, Gay and Feeling Fine, according to his blog. I bumped into him recently through a radio interview and am truly impressed by his commitment to live a celibate life as a man with same-sex attractions. He is doing what Pastor Matthew mentioned in his talk today, choosing self-discipline and the higher good moment by moment, against the norm.

Finally, post-abortive women who are speaking out about the ill effects of their decision -- including a local group that calls itself P.A.L.S. (post-abortive ladies). I've seen up close and personal their stories of healing and triumph over death. Their bravery in speaking out has helped me understand abortion and its effects on a much deeper level and empowered me to approach the subject with compassion and conviction.

Q4U: Who are the unsung heroes in your world who live lives of integrity?

writing wednesdays: dear diary...

2011-11-09T00:01:00.005-06:00

I'm bringing my old diary from 1982 to our kids' middle school today. Yep, I've dusted off old "Kareena" as I called her and I'm going to embarrass myself by opening her up.

Why would I do such a thing? Find out today on Peace Garden Writer! (For those of you who stopped by earlier and were brought to the wrong place, I've fixed it now!) See you there!

mama mondays: it's about more than coffee

2011-11-07T00:01:00.060-06:00

Several years back, someone who I looked upon as highly moral gave me a double-take when I told him I've been known to take my kids out for coffee. The moment I let it slip, I felt like my skin had turned green and antennas were growing out of my head.

"Coffee? You take your kids out for coffee?!" He seemed incredulous that I would do such a thing. It was as if I'd just announced that I supply alcohol to my kids and host parties at our home.

Uh...yeah...I do take them out for 'coffee.'

I regret that, for whatever reason, there wasn't time to explain that this tradition has very little to do with coffee and that he'd missed the point entirely.

Back when I was a younger version of my self, my father sometimes would say to me, "Hey Rock, wanna go out for a pop?" I rarely turned down such an offer to spend time with Dad. We'd swing by the Tastee Freeze on Highway 2 in my hometown of Poplar, Montana, and have a cherry coke. If I was really lucky, I'd get a heaping plate of hot French fries. I'd make it perfect by squirting ketchup all over the top. One by one, my fries would be popped into my mouth. If necessary, I'd add a second layer of ketchup to the bottom ones that hadn't been saturated the first time around. Dad and I would talk and watch the vehicles on the highway whiz past and the other patrons eating their food and doing whatever it was they were doing. I loved people watching, I loved French fries, and I loved spending time with Dad.

You see, it wasn't really about the fries or the cherry coke. Don't get me wrong; those things were mighty good. It just wasn't about that, though. It was about relationship.

Espresso shops are the new Tastee Freeze. My girls and I especially have frequented many a coffee or tea shop in our city. We've shared countless special moments in those places, and sometimes, some pretty mundane moments just sitting around and enjoying each other's company.

A few years ago when my middle son was about six, I took him to one of those coffee shops after a school program. We realized we had about 30 minutes to kill before the other kids would be let out for the day so we headed over to a local coffee joint and had ourselves a nice little time.

Flash back to this past Halloween night. Imagine the younger kids running to the mailbox after school to see if Grandma Jane's special one-dollar-per-every-year-of-your-life Halloween cash cards had been delivered. Indeed they had! My middle son got his allotted eight bucks and added it to the bit he'd been saving in his wallet.

A couple nights later, I found this note and some of his money:

"Oh, I see your big heart shining through that!" I told him upon finding the gift. What a sweetheart he is! In the end, I gave him his money back, but he got a good hug out of the deal, and a used video game he'd been wanting.

A few days after that, with $2 and some spare change remaining, he asked me, "Mom, how much does a hot chocolate cost at Starbuck's? I want to go out for hot chocolate with you. But there's also something at the book fair at school that I want, too. I can't decide."

(Sounds of mommy-heart melting for the second time in two days...)

"Tell you what, bud, you can keep that money for the book fair. But if you clean your room, I'll take you out for hot chocolate this weekend."

He thought that sounded like a fair deal, and he worked hard tidying up his incredibly chaotic bedroom (which, full disclosure, he shares with his little brother). So Sunday morning, before the 11 a.m. Mass, off we went to one of my favorite coffee hangouts.

We prefer mugs over paper when possible. And both of us chose dark chocolate over white and milk.

We had a nice visit; about school and his upcoming birthday party and choosing a Confirmation/saints' name. (He's leaning toward St. Sebastian like half his class, apparently.)

When it was time to go, he said, "That was worth the time I spent cleaning my room, Mom."

So, you see, it's really not about the pop or the coffee or the hot chocolate or whatever other excuse you want to give it. That's all fine and good, too, and offers a tasty excuse, but it's really about something much deeper, much more precious. I'm going to carry that sweet hour with my son throughout the week ahead -- and beyond.

Speaking of blessings, those who didn't have a chance to read my Friday post can see it today on Chasing Silhouettes , "a blog for families and caregivers who desire hope and healing on the eating disorders journey." I've been touched by the responses and encouragement given to my daughter by the various readers here on Peace Garden Mama and on CatholicMom.com, where our post appeared on Friday.

Q4U: What ritual do you do with your children or friends that's about something other than what it appears?

faith fridays: God's love in a fortune cookie

2011-11-04T00:01:00.003-05:00

I don't believe in predictions that come through fortune cookies. But I do believe that if God wanted to speak to me through a fortune cookie, He could do that. In fact, I'm convinced that He has.

It wasn't really me He was trying to reach but my oldest daughter.

You need to know that it's been a tough year for her, and she's been struggling of late; mainly with food. Too much, too little, what kind, whether it's foe or friend.

I remember being at the same age. It was one of my worst years as a teenager. Dark thoughts ran through my head and I wasn't sure if life was worth living. Now, I thank God for His persistence in loving me through those overcast days. Somehow, by listening to His still, small voice, I was able to hang on and believe in something bright shining around the bend. I shudder to think of all the beautiful things I'd have missed out on if I'd given up on life at age 14.

Now, I'm a mother of five, trying to convince my oldest daughter that the hard things she's going through now shouldn't be given the power to squelch the beautiful things that are coming.

Last week, we were both reminded we're not alone in the difficult task ahead.

She'd just opened up to me about how hard this was going to be; this commitment to start eating normally, to shun the voices (including the interior ones) attempting to lead her away from health and that beautiful future I know awaits her. I told her it was going to be hard but I knew she could do it.

A short while later, we were in the kitchen, just the two of us, unpacking Chinese food. And out it dropped -- the broken-up fortune cookie.

"You can have that," she said. Truthfully, I didn't want any arguments over food. I also knew there were usually only a couple cookies in the bag and there could be vicious fights over who would get to consume the fortune cookie. I determined that eating the broken one right then might save on some squabbling later. "Fine, but it's your fortune. Whatever it says it's for you, okay?" I said in compromise.

I opened the little package and out spilled the slip of paper with the fortune on it. I read it out loud, verbatim:

"Don't give up, the beginning is always the hardest."

I looked at her, she looked back, eyes wide. The world stopped for an eerie moment. "That really was for you," I said. She smiled, then set about arranging the plates and glasses.

We called the others to the table and ate our dinner. The whole time I wondered...did she hear what I had heard, and did she know the source?

I found confirmation a short while later on her Facebook wall, where she'd shared with her friend what the white slip of paper had revealed. "It's like Jesus came to me in a fortune cookie!" she wrote.

Then, while I was out, she texted me: "You know how my fortune cookie said that? Then on the back it has like your lucky numbers and a 'learn Chinese' thing?"

"Yes?"

"Well," she continued, "the 'learn Chinese' phrase on the back of that fortune was 'to eat'...o.o. mind blown."

"Wow!" I answered. "I think God is running over hurdles to get your attention. That's how much He loves you."

Maybe you had to be there. Maybe you needed to have been right in the middle of it all to understand how precisely timed it was, and how that, as much as the rest of the details, is what sent tandem shivers through us. How could we be misreading this?

She was needing a sign to tell her she could do this, that she wouldn't be alone. I was needing a sign to tell me I could help her do this, that I wouldn't be alone.

And there it was...in black and white. Mere coincidence? Maybe. But if there were any doubts, the message on the back was the confirmation we needed. "To eat." The chances of mere coincidence just did a nose-dive. There was no doubt in either of our minds.

The way I see it, four miracles took place. One was the miracle of having had the chance to talk earlier that afternoon. Two was the miracle that she'd gotten verbal affirmation from God that she's not alone in this trial. Three was the affirmation that I wasn't, either. And the fourth? Well, that happened the next day.

"Mom, you can write about the fortune cookie if you want."

"Really?" I asked, not certain I was hearing her correctly. "You mean...are you sure?" We both knew that in order for me to write about the fortune cookie, we'd have to tell the whole story. And that would mean being vulnerable and public about something that has been difficult.

"Yep."

Many people wiser than I have cautioned me to not overlook the smaller miracles while searching for the big one. My daughter's offer to share this tells me she's already realizing, even in her dark time, that by sharing a piece of her story, she might be able to help someone who is struggling with the same. Even if that means having her mom write about it on her blog and making it public.

She's glimpsed that there's something bigger at stake, and that she might have to come out of her comfort zone a bit to let it be free. That in doing so -- in bringing something difficult to the light -- we free ourselves and give others the permission to do the same.

(Thank you, dear daughter, for trusting me with this. I love and believe in you!)

Q4U: Where was the most unusual place God reached out to you?

writing wednesdays: leaving spooky for saintly

2011-11-02T00:01:00.003-05:00

Yesterday was All Saints Day. At our school Mass, we sang "Oh When the Saints Go Marching In." Today, I honor the occasion by highlighting the lovely Lisa Hendey and her new book, which relates to the topic.

My Little Saint, 2009

This is a post you won't want to miss; it involves a book giveaway! I typically stay away from giveaways on my blogs, but I think you'll really be edified by this one. Come see what I have to say about it on Peace Garden Writer!

mama mondays: the scariest thing of all...

2011-10-31T00:01:00.056-05:00

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

2011-10-28T00:01:00.336-05:00

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?

2011-10-26T00:01:00.003-05:00

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

2011-10-24T00:01:00.005-05:00

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

2011-10-21T00:01:00.043-05:00

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

2011-10-19T00:01:00.002-05:00

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

2011-10-17T00:01:00.027-05:00

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..."

2011-10-14T00:01:00.001-05:00

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

2011-10-12T00:01:00.004-05:00

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

2011-10-10T00:01:00.004-05:00

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?

faith fridays: carving out space for relationship

2011-10-07T00:01:00.036-05:00

"If God had a refrigerator, it would be plastered with all our clumsy little prayers." (heard today on radio...)

Meet my first-grader's prayer table.

I had absolutely nothing to do with this. It was his teacher who put in his mind the importance of carving out a place to pray. Once the idea was in motion, there was no stopping him. He found the table, asked if he could move it to a new location, moved it, found a stool for sitting, and began putting all the pieces into place -- two Rosaries (one with case, one without), two Bibles (one child's, one adult) and two bookmark/prayer cards (one St. Francis, one Padre Pio).

I love how my children teach me just as much (or more) as what I teach them, especially in matters of faith. I love their questions and how their sponge-like brains easily absorb matters of the supernatural, and how willing they are to don their super-x-ray faith goggles so that they might see the world as God does. It seems that easy for them, in moments.

When our children pray for someone, that person is in good hands. The prayers of children are powerful prayers. It's almost as if the older we get, the more distant we become from our Creator, the harder we have to work to find our way back. But children -- they're still under the shelter of His arms. And they're not looking to go too far too fast.

This week, I've been reminded that it's all about relationship. The day after this prayer table went up, I took some extra steps to carve out time for my friend Vicky. We'd been working on this for a while and I'm thrilled it finally panned out to meet, to enjoy a pumpkin-spice latte together, to catch up on everything that's happened in our lives since our last visit. I left our meeting feeling like my life had been added to because of my friend's presence.

If we can take time for friends, how much more do we need to carve out space for our relationship with The One to whom we owe it all?

We don't have to pray perfectly. We don't even need a prayer table (though it's a nice way to welcome a guest, wouldn't you say?). God will accept our prayers no matter how unrefined they might be -- just like those pieces of artwork our children bring to us out of love. They might think they're presenting us with an imperfect picture, but we see it differently. We see it as "frame-worthy," beautiful enough to take up space on our refrigerator.

That's how God sees our prayers. Our words to God are sprinkled with gold, no matter the circumstances or form of our words, or even if we're talking at all. Sometimes, praying with the heart is enough. The important thing is that we do it. Somehow or some way, we need to carve out a space for dialogue with the life-giving Light, without Whom we would wither.

On another faith-related note, Tuesday was the Feast Day of St. Francis, which meant our school's annual pet blessing. Yes, even our furry friends have something to say about the mind of God, and in the case of Snickers (one of the most rambunctious of the pets in the courtyard that day), perhaps something about God's sense of humor as well.

Q4U: Where is your favorite prayer space?

writing wednesdays: not your grandmother's women's section

2011-10-05T00:01:00.001-05:00

A little more about The Forum's new women's section, SheSays, on today's Peace Garden Writer!

"Read all about it!"

Parenting Perspectives: Son has Solution for Morning Madness

2011-10-04T07:18:00.004-05:00

[Printed in North Dakota's largest daily newspaper, The Forum, on October 4, 2011. Reprinted with permission.]

By: Roxane B. Salonen, The Forum of Fargo-Moorhead

My 6-year-old recently discovered the blessing of shortcuts.

Rather than putting on his favorite flannels at bedtime, he reached for his school uniform. “I’m just gonna sleep in these so I’ll have enough time for breakfast,” he announced while tucking in his red polo shirt.

What could I, the Queen of Morning Shortcuts who once slept on top of the covers to avoid making the bed, say?

Even the King of the Household has a shortcut strategy. He recently discovered that he can lessen stress during particularly busy weeks by 50 percent by doing half of his morning pushups the evening before.

Still, we couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as our little guy headed upstairs fully clothed and ready to take on tomorrow.

With this image still on my brain awhile later, I flipped open my laptop to do a quick Facebook status update to share of my son’s ingenuity, half preparing for an onslaught of “bad mommy” responses.
“We do the same thing,” one friend posted almost instantly. “Sleep in your clothes? Wear them again? No problem! Pick your battles.”

“I’ve been practicing Nick’s brilliant concept for quite some time now,” a local radio talk-show host contributed. “However, it gets complicated when I arrive at WDAY still dripping from the shower … How does Nick navigate what is easily the trickiest aspect of the Clothes to Bed, Shower Ahead approach?”

“In junior high, I did my hair and makeup at night,” another friend said. “Good thing crusty spider lashes were in at the time!”

Feeling inspired, I suggested to the radio guy that he dry himself off by doing a few circles around the block on his motorcycle, like a college friend used to do to dry his shower-wet hair.

“Well, my wife drives me to work, and I lie on the luggage rack,” he responded. “Works pretty well, save for hanging-too-low tree branches on Ninth Street.”

Who knew Facebook at midnight could be so fun? And to think it all started with my little guy trudging off to bed in his clothes.

A few friends asked me to report back on the wrinkle factor. Incredibly, said son awoke with uniform clothes wrinkle-free and enjoyed a leisurely bowl of Cheerios with time to spare.

I’m still looking for ways to make my mornings go smoothly. In fact, when Nick dons his school uniform around 8:30 p.m., I’m generally reaching for the clothes that will carry me through a majority of my workday as a freelance writer and taxi service extraordinaire.

I’m just a little nervous that one of these days I’m going to get pulled over during school drop-off. Is it a crime for a mom to do her best work in a robe and bunny slippers?

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: SheSays debut!

2011-10-03T00:01:00.063-05:00

Photo courtesy of The Forum newspaper (click to enlarge)
(Peace Garden Mama, fourth from end on right side)

A while back I posted a hint on Facebook about something exciting in the air. A few more hints have followed, and now it's finally time to be more explicit. (Finally!)

It all started this summer when I received an email from Mary Jo Hotzler, deputy editor of The Forum newspaper, and the gal who got the ball rolling more than three years ago on the "Parenting Perspectives" column for which I'm a monthly contributor. Since Mary Jo and I usually check in with one another from time to time, I didn't except our coffee date would be anything other than the usual. But when she revealed to me a new plan for the newspaper, explained the vision for it and asked if I'd be willing to take part, there wasn't a moment of hesitation. "I'm in!"

So after a summer of plotting and scheduling, it's finally come to pass. Our local newspaper -- North Dakota's largest daily -- is going to go all out and hedge its bets on women. The recognition that the influence of women in our communities has been largely overlooked and underestimated has spawned a brand-new section. But it won't be just an occasional women's page. "SheSays" will offer articles, columns and profiles about and for the female sector of our community each day of the week.

The contributor page of the first edition of SheSays
(Photo by Heidi Schaffer)

If you haven't guessed yet, I'm thrilled to be part of this venture! And I'm honored to be among the crew of local women communicators the paper has assembled to kick off the endeavor. You can imagine the spark in the air when we all gathered a few weeks ago to take the first promotional photo (see above) for SheSays in Downtown Fargo. More than a few onlookers stopped and scratched their heads, wondering what we could possibly be doing as we overtook a large part of a street with our charged-up female energy.

At some point today, I'll be strolling the town again with another SheSays contributor, handing out fresh copies of our first edition. You might just see me somewhere if you're in the F-M area. Look for the black SheSays T-shirt and big smiles. And tomorrow, my "Parenting Perspectives" column will be the first to be published on the SheSays pages.


Mary Jo Hotzler, SheSays editor of The Forum, gets her first look at the new section (Photo by Heidi Schaffer)

I'll share more about this very cool undertaking in the coming days, as well as some of the neat things that have happened surrounding it. In the meantime, we're collecting story ideas, so if you have any thoughts on what might make an intriguing article topic, please share here! I've got my reporter's notebook opened and read to fill.

Q4U: What do you think about the SheSays idea? If you could see an article on its pages, what would the topic be?

faith fridays: singing goodbye

2011-09-30T00:01:00.010-05:00

This weekend I'm traveling to my husband's hometown to sing at Santa's funeral.

Well, he wasn't the real Santa Claus, but he was one of Santa's main helpers. Each year we celebrated Christmas in my husband's lake town, this man would appear at the front door wearing a red and white suit, boots and a beard. He would have a large bag of toys in hand, and would shake when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly. His attempt to spread Christmas cheer each year in this way was just one of the many ways this exemplary man sowed love.

Now, after a decade of fighting pancreatic cancer, he's moving on to bigger and better pursuits.

I've been asked to song-lead at his funeral and I'm honored to accept. Even though a funeral is a very emotional time, I've learned to pull myself together at such times to offer this final gift to those who have passed on. I often cry at some point if it's someone I know well, either before or after, but I know while I'm up there singing that it's not the time to for me to break down. It's time for me to use what God has given me to lift up and comfort those who cry. Sometimes, I sense that my job is to give people permission to weep. Weeping can be a very healing and necessary act.

I still remember singing at my Aunt Lorraine's funeral. At one point I made the mistake of looking out into the crowd and catching a glimpse of my father. He was looking upward and tears were streaming down his face. The song, it appeared, had allowed him to grieve his older sister's passing. Suddenly, he was not my father but a small boy crying out for the older sister who had once nurtured him.

That almost did me in. Since then I've learned to be careful not to look out too much. I have to focus. I have to remind myself what's at stake; that at that moment, I have a job to do. And for that duration, I need to be emotionally strong...because it's not about me right then.

Honestly, I can think of few better ways to say goodbye. I start out thinking of it as a gift to the family, but inevitably, I'm the one who comes away feeling like I've received a gift.

The really cool thing is...I always sense that the deceased is there with me when I sing at a funeral. I believe that when I sing at our friend's funeral this weekend, he'll be there next to me and all the others, smiling away, reveling in the love that he sowed during his time on earth.

Q4U: When has music been a healing gift to you?

writing wednesdays: seeing detours as blessing

2011-09-28T07:06:00.002-05:00

Sometimes we get detours. Beth Dotson Brown shares her perspective of them this morning on Peace Garden Writer. Head over there, and be inspired!

mama mondays: kids carry the cross for flooded school

2011-09-26T00:01:00.022-05:00

Every year at this time, the 8th graders of our local Catholic middle school go on an 11-mile hike from north to south, stopping in at various churches along the way to pray and be fed. Each year, they choose a charity in need of funding to direct their prayers and the money they collect prior to the pilgrimage toward.

I was really happy to hear that the charity of choice this year was Little Flower Elementary School of Minot; a school that was flooded out this past spring. Kids have such big hearts, especially when they are able to help other kids, it seems.

My daughter, who is not inclined toward going door to door to collect money, was disheartened when the goal of $10,000 had not been met the day prior to the journey. By that point, they'd brought in $4,000 - a far cry from the hoped-for amount. So she and her friend got together and went in search of some generous neighbors. Some of her classmates did the same. When the money was totalled up the next morning just before setting off on the trek, the announcement that they'd exceeded their goal in the last-ditch effort was met with hooting and hollering and plenty of smiles.

Like two years ago when my son's class went on this journey, I served as event photographer, making sure the pilgrimage was recorded. I've handed those photos on to the coordinating teacher. The visual I have here is the one I took with my camera.

Though you can't make out all the names on the cross, you can see it's been filled up with signatures of all colors. After the students have walked that long distance, they end with a signing of the cross, adding it to the others who have gone before, marking the completion of the journey and the sacrifices along the way. Every group had a chance to carry the cross. The group with the cross always ended up at the end of the line, feeling the burden of the journey in a particularly tangible way. But certainly, being a cross-carrier makes the walk all the more purpose-filled in the end.

I love being part of this event, and I smile to imagine the children and staff at Little Flower Elementary School when they receive word that the 8th graders here in Fargo have helped to make the rebuilding of their school a reality.

When love is set in motion, it's a beautiful thing.

Q4U: If you could take part in a pilgrimage, where would you go and why?

faith fridays: f.a.m.i.l.y.

2011-09-23T00:01:00.048-05:00

We Are Family...

For the better part of this week, our parish here in Fargo, ND, has been blessed by the presence of Fr. Larry Richards to lead our fall parish mission. I had the additional honor of chatting with Fr. Larry on Catholic radio during my Real Presence Live show on Tuesday. I loved every minute of the 30 we had together. I saw a deep passion to share God's love with others. This time, I wasn't listening to him from my minivan radio. He was just a few feet away. I can vouch for his sincerity.

If you haven't heard him yet, Fr. Larry is a "tell it like it is" sort of guy. He has a special flair for speaking to men in their language, and has been a presenter throughout the nation and in many different countries as well, including Promise Keepers events. He gives it straight, sometimes with more bluntness than we're used to. But I have to be honest. I find the bluntness refreshing, because I also see the love behind his words.

Last week, I talked on Faith Fridays about the perception of some non-believers that the Christian life is a life that is unencumbered. Fr. Larry was yet another reminder to me that this is simply not the case. He grew up the son of two cops in Pittsburgh, and his father left the family early on in his childhood and set out to have a new life with a new family in a new place. He also was a raging alcoholic who died in his early 40s. During the week of his death, his son Larry, by this time a seminarian, was at his side, and the last words he said to the father who had abandoned him all those years before were: "I love you, too, Dad."

That's why, when Fr. Larry talks about love, I know that he knows the real meaning of the word. His father didn't necessarily deserve those words, but he got them anyway. As Fr. Larry reminded us, forgiveness isn't a feeling; it's an act of the will. I can imagine that as he was telling his decaying father who had left his life years earlier, there may have been a lack of feeling -- at least the warm fuzzy kind. But he knew that in declaring his love anyway, he was offering his father the gift of forgiveness and peace. Can there be any better way to die than to be looking into the eyes of those we have hurt and to hear the words, "I love you?"

During one of his talks, Fr. Larry gave us an acronym for family:

F - Faith & Forgiveness: Remember, forgiveness is an act of the will, not a feeling. As for faith, Fr. Larry said, as parents we need to remember our primary goal is to get our children to heaven.

A - Affirmation: We need to build up one another, not tear each other apart, Fr. Richards said. Ever heard of the Nurtured Heart approach? It's worth a shot.

M - Make Memories: Don't underestimate the power of family meals. Find ways to be together as a family, even if it's just once a day, or a couple times a week. There's great power in this ritual.

I - Intimacy: ...or, "Into Me See." We need to truly listen to one another, to see into each others' hearts. Anger, Fr. Richards reminded us, is often a symptom for pain and hurt.

L - Love: It's all about love. Only love. That is why we're here. To learn how to love. It starts with loving our family.

Y - You: Forget about "me," I love YOU. As we disappear, Christ becomes more prominent. The more we give away, the more we're bound to receive.

He sent us away with the following homework: write a love letter to each member of your immediate family. And not just any love letter. Write it as if they might be dead by midnight.

"We're all messed up. Every family is messed up," Fr. Larry said in response to the naysayers who might proclaim they cannot write such a letter. "Look, we can be dysfunctional and loving. There's no reason we can't."

I hope that Fr. Larry's words will reach into your heart as they did mine. Like most families on the planet, mine is not without its share of dysfunction. We are all broken. We are all in need of healing. We all need forgiveness. And we all need love.

Q4U: When was the last time you wrote a love letter to each person in your immediate family? Maybe the time is now. I know I have some work to do with at least six letters to write. Better get crackin'!

writing wednesdays: shriveled up frogs

2011-09-21T00:01:00.003-05:00

There wasn't just one but two dead-frog sightings at Green Lake in Minnesota this past weekend.

This one was found in between an outer and inner window pane. Poor little dear; didn't have a chance.

The other one? Well, you'll have to go see on Peace Garden Writer. But trust me, it will be worth the hop on over there. If you like beautiful things, anyway...

mama mondays: through a rain-splattered window

2011-09-19T00:15:00.001-05:00

I want so much to be able to share details from my weekend at Green Lake, Minnesota, with the "girls." But it was one of those returns that allowed for no transition time. The moment I hit the front porch (actually well before it), I was already fully engaged in real life. Poof! The magic of Green Lake was being bowled over by important matters of the evening.

I'd love to linger for just a while longer on the beautiful experience I've just come through. Would you hang tight while I get the week going and come back another day this week when I'll have more images and thoughts? I mean, you really don't want to miss the dead-frog sightings, do you? (I didn't say every single moment of it was lovely! But 98 percent, yes...)

Looking forward to bringing a little Green Lake your way soon!

Peace Garden Mama

faith fridays: the unencumbered life of faith

2011-09-16T00:01:00.076-05:00

"People who lead simple, unencumbered lives don't have to deal with real ethical issues. All they do is follow prescribed mores and think they are moral people." -- A non-believer describing his perception of the Christian life

Living the unencumbered life

Do you realize, dear fellow Christian, that this is how some perceive you? That you are looked upon as a non-thinking individual whose search for Truth has all but ended because you have found faith? And because that faith has given you prescriptions for how life ought to be lived, you have, in a sense, stopped living already?

I have to admit to feeling a little frustrated over such statements. In fact, in my time talking with atheists over the past year, one of the greatest surprises has been the outside perception of how things are working in Christendom.

At this point I could berate my fellow Christians and myself for not doing enough to prove to the world that this is not so. And of course, that is one response that should be explored. There's always room for improvement in any human soul. But unencumbered? Who can say my life is unencumbered?

And I guess that's where I'm stuck today. I'm stuck wondering how it is that any of us can know the soul of another. We don't even know our own souls half as well as God does, so how is it that we can assume that just because something looks shining to us that there is no burden underneath the surface?

Is it really that we Christians have it easy? Do we really have no reason to think because our Church does it for us? And just because we have ethical guidelines (which I would argue are objective moral truths), does that mean it's always easy for us to apply them, and that we don't have deep discussions surrounding all things moral?

I would challenge anyone reading this today to step forward if you have no suffering in your life, if your life is unencumbered, if you pull back from thinking because someone else will do the job for you. Is that what the Christian life is about?

Thank God, it isn't! No human being, no matter their creed, escapes suffering, though it might take many different forms. Poverty can come in both material and spiritual lack; it's not always visible. As Christians, we recognize we will never, in this life, escape suffering, but we have the advantage of seeing it through the light of faith, which means we can turn our yoke into something good with God's help. This is, I see, the greatest strength of the Christian -- to find the good in all things. Even the suffering things.

They say it's not what happens to a person in life so much as how he or she responds that makes a difference. I wouldn't be surprised if this was first uttered by a Christian. After all, Christ, our Lord, suffered the most gruesome of realities, but beyond that tragedy was a brilliant light -- redemption and life.

Maybe, as we embrace our crosses and humble ourselves before the Lord in our Christian journey, it looks as though we are accepting our burdens to a fault, that we are not using our own reasoning capacities, that we are moving through our lives as if with blinders on, being led by some magical puppeteer. From the outside, perhaps that is what is perceived. But from the inside? It's not what it seems, is it? Not even close.

The truth is, in the end we are limited in our control of others' perceptions of our lives. We can't force anyone to see the inside if they are on the outside, and though we can welcome them in, the actual movement toward that must come from their own hearts. Perhaps that is the greatest encumbrance of all -- that though we can do our best, in the end we must accept outside notions of ourselves, no matter how untrue.

What we can do, however, is look to those of our community who have gone before us for guidance. As Catholics, we have Mary and the saints as a wonderful cloud of witnesses to the faith. And by the way, if you've read anything of the saints' lives, I'd bet you'd be hard-pressed to come up with one who has lived an unencumbered life. As for Christ and His cross, well, that's about as encumbered as it gets.

Q4U: How do you feel about being perceived wrongly? What is your response?

writing wednesdays: my takeaway on 'the help'

2011-09-14T00:01:00.006-05:00

Have you read the book, The Help, or watched the movie?

I'm pondering one of the lessons I took from my recent viewing of the film and hope you'll stop by Peace Garden Writer today to share any insights you may have gained. Or, just stop by, because I enjoy visitors! Go here...

Peace and see you soon!

mama mondays: the answer: 'folding clothes'

2011-09-12T00:01:00.099-05:00

"What were you doing when the first plane crashed on September 11, 2001?"

We've been inundated by this question in the last month or so, with good reason, of course. There are some things that should not -- can not -- be forgotten. "We will never forget" are words etched in a prominent memorial at Dachau, the concentration camp in Germany I visited a little more than a decade before 9-11-2001.

I hope we never do.

I've been listening intently to the stories but haven't shared any of my own until now. Even though this will be posted a day after the ten-year anniversary of this horrific event, I am writing on September 11, 2011. And it feels right to reflect on where I was that day, especially on the Mama Mondays version of Peace Garden Mama. After all, what I was doing that day most of all...was being a mother.

We were about midway through growing our family at the time. We had an older son, who was in kindergarten, and two little girls. On that historic morning, I was home with the little girls, folding laundry in the living room, watching the Today Show as usual. Katie Couric was the first person to alert me that something was amiss. I watched with her and the rest of the world as an airplane crashed into one of the World Trade Center buildings, and like most, thought it was a horrible accident. When a second crash followed, and a third, and a fourth, my mothering went into full gear. Namely, I went numb. The last thing I wanted was to scare my girls. I called my husband throughout the day trying to process the news with another adult. I met with my weekly faith-sharing group and did my best to make sense of what had happened with the other mothers through the eyes of faith. Mostly, we exchanged a confused mess of feelings and thoughts and reveled in community -- the fact that we could gather and talk in a safe environment. A prominent theme was how we could best mother our children through this disaster.

I also remember the world stopping, if only in my mind. Those children's stories I was trying to write -- did that really matter? It seemed sort of pointless in light of something so far-reaching. I felt confused as to what I should be focusing on.

And then I made a decision that I never would have made pre-motherhood. I canceled a trip to the Oregon coast to see a good friend marry. The wedding was scheduled the weekend of my oldest daughter's fourth birthday. I was already feeling conflicted about going. 911 sealed the deal for me. My friend was disappointment and I, too, was torn about the decision, but my mother-heart could not push past the fear of another attack happening and permanently separating me from my family. It was too fresh, there were too many unknowns. And I learned that sometimes the decisions of a mother feeling protective over her children are not entirely logical. And that's okay. I'll always regret not being there, but at the same time, I have yet to regret staying back to be there for my daughter's birthday. It's a loss I've lived with and I know that if the scenario were to be repeated, I'd likely do the same all over again.

Olivia turns 4 with a princess cake (but no mother in sight)

Unfortunately, I came down with a vicious infection the morning of her party and ended up having to abandon it and all of the activities I'd planned to spend time in the emergency room. All the adults there -- family and friends -- pitched in to make the party a success in my absence.

Babysitter and her mother zip up girls for post-party jaunt

Grandma Bev helping with birthday beading project - Oct. 2001


Dad gets in on the action, while baby sister looks on - Oct. 2001

Despite those setbacks, despite that feeling that the world had stopped and of being uncertain which direction to go, slowly, we all moved forward, processed some more, and began to live again with some measure of confidence and purpose. I continued working on my children's story and eventually, it was published, followed by another. I have continued writing and mothering and reaching for faith. There have been many blessings and sorrows. Life has taken on more vivid meaning on many different levels.

Baby sister Beth reading a book upside-down - Oct. 2001

Mostly when I think back on 911, I recall strong feelings of realizing that everything I was experiencing was happening through the lens of someone fully entrenched in motherhood. It wasn't as much about me as my children. In some strange way, 911 revealed to me what kind of a mother I was; one whose heart was firmly and forever entangled with that of her children's.

December 2001 - our "After 911" days ensue

Q4U: Where were you that day?

faith fridays: mousetraps and the case for intelligent design

2011-09-09T00:01:00.018-05:00

Credit: DuBoixMorguefile

I'm no scientist, but I have a high regard for science. Which is why I found a website highlighting a group of scientists making the case for Intelligent Design so fascinating.

Let me say this upfront: my faith doesn't require such evidence. But such evidence certainly doesn't hurt my faith. It enhances it and excites me, because I know that through it, others who depend on such evidence for belief have more of a chance to know and believe in the One who is waiting to love them.

In one instance on this website, a mousetrap is used to explain what is a fairly complex theory known as irreducible complexity; a theory that presents a severe challenge to gradual step-by-step evolution. The theory doesn't disprove that things evolve, but shows that certain systems could not have evolved, that they had to have come forth by way of a designer.

For example, a mousetrap comprises five main parts. Each of those parts is required in order for the trap to work. If one of the parts is missing, the mouse gets away. In other words, the mousetrap could not have evolved step by step because all parts had to be in place from the get-go in order for it to ever have worked. This indicates that a designer was involved in the construction of a mousetrap. The human knee is another example.

To explain this concept, in this video clip, biochemist Michael Behe uses the construction of a flagellar motor - a complex molecular machine that propels bacteria through liquid. This required magnification of a cell to 50 million times its true size; something that was impossible back in Darwin's day. This magnification shows an intricate system that demonstrates irreducible complexity.

For evolution to be possible, one must explain how systems came into being step by step. But with irreducible complexity, no function was possible until all parts were in place. Thus, evolution cannot account for its existence.

I hope I'm explaining this correctly and that it's making sense to you. To me, all of this points to compelling and fascinating evidence of a Master Designer.

God designed science, too, to help us as human beings better understand our world -- what it comprises, how it is ordered, how things fit together. He wanted us to understand. But the more we have been able to accomplish through our knowledge, the more our pride has gotten in the way. Knowledge is a beautiful and wonderful thing, but with it comes a temptation to disregard the Creator who put it all into motion in the first place. (We're back to the Garden of Eden...)

It seems to me that even as we as human beings move into a more complex understanding of science, God is simultaneously revealing more and more of who He is. We are going to keep bumping into God in all realms of our intellectual pursuits...eventually. Certainly, some things can be explained, to a point, without recognition of the supernatural. But only to a point. Going beyond that point leads us back to the reality, the absolute necessity, of a Prime Mover.

Why would we be satisfied with going only halfway when the whole way is at our disposal?

Intelligent Design makes sense. I can know this without scientific evidence through my reasoning capacities. But having evidence adds depth and meaning to the quest for full knowledge.

Q4U: What evidence do you require for faith? Where do you seek it?

writing wednesdays: bringing others along

2011-09-07T00:01:00.002-05:00

You can't do it alone, you know, this writing thing.

Don't believe me? Well then, would you believe an English teacher and blogger extraordinaire?

Shannon O'Donnell is someone who was born to gather people, to encourage, to inspire. Come meet her today on Peace Garden Writer!

mama mondays: 43

2011-09-05T00:01:00.016-05:00

Me at 43

It's funny how we are about these things. I've always been an even-numbers gal. So I approached my 43rd birthday on Friday in a hum-drum kind of way.

God, however, wouldn't have any of it. "It's another year of life," He whispered into my ear. Then He sent my mother for a visit and filled those three days with an extra spark of life, reminding me that I still have my mother, and she has hers, and that our lives are filled with other loved ones who bring a constant influx of vibrancy our way. We are all very blessed just to exist.

But God wasn't satisfied with just that, either. He also sent me the most amazing day. A Friday birthday -- and one leading into a long weekend -- naturally arrives with an abundance of anticipatory energy, but add to that blue skies with temps in the mid-70s and suddenly, it's no ordinary birthday after all. While nothing crazy happened, each moment seemed quietly extraordinary somehow. I felt a deep sense of peace underlying the entire day.

It ended with an adults-only dinner out with my husband, mother and me. Some suggestions were made but in the end, after much quiet hemming and hawing, I narrowed down the choices based on the day's perfect-weather gift: a patio. It would have to be somewhere with a patio.

And so it was that we found ourselves sitting outside on a still September 2 night, sipping cool drinks, enjoying conversations with one another, breathing in an amazing evening and another year of life.

The celebrating continued the next day with a lunch with my mom, daughters and a friend; evening Mass; a burritos dinner; and a movie date watching The Help, followed by a slice or two of chocolate Snickers cake (chocolate dessert seemed especially appropriate given one detail in the movie, which, if you've seen it or read the book, you'll know what I'm talking about.)

I loved this birthday. It wasn't a zany, high-energy sort of celebration filled with surprises (except for the gift that was left on my front step without an envelope to reveal the name of the giver). Instead, it was filled with coffee and a birthday brownie with Mom, hundreds of Facebook greetings from friends old and new, several phones calls from loved ones, a midday nap, some afternoon errand running, and hugs from the kids.

So far, the 40s have been a good place to be. I have few complaints and a lot of life to look forward to. Thanks to those of you who have visited here this past year. I hope to see more of you in this, the 44th year of my life!

Q4U: What decade are you in? What are some of the pluses of that decade to you?

faith fridays: staying still for more

2011-09-02T00:01:00.031-05:00

"On our own, without faith, we can find a certain order in the world which allows us to make choices that are good. That’s the basics. But it’s not everything God wants for us. He doesn’t want us just to find the order and the good. He wants even more for us."

-- Catholic radio (source unknown)

"Be still and know that I am God." Psalm 46:10 (Mississippi Headwaters Summer 2011)

I wish I could remember who uttered the above-mentioned words, but I can't. I know they came from Catholic radio a few months back, and that they seemed profound enough at the time to pause to record them.

Back then, I was still actively involved in a blog with an atheist (An Atheist and a Catholic). As such, I was pondering deeply and often what faith means, how one comes to it, why some people find faith and others don't, etc. And so this jumped out loud and clear and rang so true.

We can figure out so many things simply by observing the world and coming to natural conclusions through those observations. This is absolutely possible with or without faith. BUT...God is not content to just offer us that much -- the ability to discern what is good and to find order in the world (though it's a nice start). God wants more for us than just that.

And it's all the extra stuff -- the stuff that might not be immediately visible -- that allows us to tap into not just happiness but true and abiding JOY; a joy that is only conceivable when a world beyond this one is taken into account. It's only when the big picture is available to us that we can finally and fully be at peace about what life brings us -- the good and the bad of it.

At this point in time, life is throwing me a few curves. Some are personal, some relate to family. Perhaps that's why I'm finding particular comfort in these words right now -- this reality that God is not, will never be, content with us just stumbling onto a pattern and accepting a decent life if we are so blessed. No, God wants us to have life in abundance. He wants that more for us and won't be satisfied with settling on anything less than that. Nor should we be -- for ourselves or for others.

So how do we find it? How do we tap into the more?

I think -- though I haven't figured it out to perfection by any means (nor will I in this life) that we can access the more by taking time to stay still. Remember Psalm 46:10? "Be still and know that I am God." It's one of my favorites, and it's one I'm needing to remember right now, on this day I'm toasting to my 43rd year of life.

Maybe that accounts for my reflective mood. Birthdays seem to lend themselves to stepping back and reflecting on where we're at, and what our more might be, as well as how close we are to discovering it.

Connecting back to the photo of my son at the Mississippi Headwaters above and thinking on our need to be still, I found this brief video that has been used in youth ministry but is a simple (and short) reminder to all of us of how we might access our more.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M4e87vIRpds

Q4U: What are some of the qualities of life in abundance to you?

writing wednesdays: suspense

2011-08-31T00:01:00.002-05:00

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

2011-08-29T00:01:00.007-05:00

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

2011-08-26T00:10:00.004-05:00

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

2011-08-24T06:41:00.000-05:00

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

2011-08-22T00:01:00.004-05:00

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'

2011-08-19T00:01:00.021-05:00

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

2011-08-17T14:27:00.000-05:00

Such exquisite creatures...

Come see more

at Peace Garden Writer!

faith fridays: suffering, 'a precious thing'

2011-08-12T00:01:00.016-05:00

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...

2011-08-10T08:23:00.000-05:00

...with your one wild and precious life?

See more on Peace Garden Writer today!

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

2011-08-07T00:01:00.085-05:00

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

2011-08-05T00:01:00.038-05:00

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

2011-08-03T00:32:00.001-05:00

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!