Skip to main content

Posts

Showing posts from 2015

Que Sera Sera: God Grant Me Serenity

Two things are currently freaking me out a wee bit. One is a dull ache in my tooth. At my last visit, the dentist told me I need multiple crowns. This is no surprise to me - I have terrible teeth, chock full of silver. But, I hate the dentist. No, let me be truthful, I abhor the dentist. And, I really hate spending excessive sums of money on my teeth. But it's hurting a bit more - and that isn't good. Then, last night, I saw a weird little dark blob at the top right-hand corner of my laptop screen. It had dripping lines coming down from it. What!!!???? I panicked. I googled. And, yes, it is probably a bad, dying screen issue. And it will spread and grow, and obliterate my laptop screen - the screen I use for work - every day - every minute. Sigh. I want to fight these things. I want to swish something in my mouth and make that tooth problem disappear. I want to download an app and make that icky dark blob go away and restore my computer screen to its beautiful

Crying in Home Depot at Christmas

So, I had a slight little meltdown in the middle of Home Depot. We were there to buy a new kitchen faucet, a cement-spreader-thingy, and a Christmas tree. My daughter and I have always held out for live Christmas trees. We would go to a nearby tree farm and chop one down. Or, if we were lazy, we would go to the Menard's parking lot. But, it was still real. I didn't care that it was messy and left a trail of needles coming in and going out. I didn't care that I was terribly allergic so my hands and arms would be covered with a prickly itchy rash when I was done decorating (even if I wore gloves). I didn't care that it slopped pine-needly water all over our carpet or - one year - tipped completely over, ornaments and all, because I bought a tree with a wobbly crooked trunk. I loved my real Christmas tree. But this year I had a small dilemma. We had given away our rusty, inept tree stand when we moved. We thought we'd buy a new one. The new ones were $30

In praise of ordinary days

We have had a flurry of activity lately. Good friends came for a visit and filled our weekend with great food and conversation. The weekend before we went to Miami, traveling with three teenage girls to an anime convention. And now it is Monday, and I'm taking a deep breath, because we have one more busy weekend coming up. But - today - nothing is on my calendar. Just the regular, ordinary, everyday stuff. And, I'm thankful - today - for ordinary days. This the kind of day where the biggest "to-do" is filling up my favorite Votes for Women mug with multiple cups of coffee and booting up my laptop. I woke at my regular time of 5:15 a.m. (not quite as painful thanks to daylight savings time) and walked with our dog and my daughter to her bus stop. I've spent the morning working, writing and returning emails that have sat for too long in my inbox. Later, I plan to wipe off the shelves of the refrigerator and run a sweeper over the rug. Maybe I'll

Army Wives, Wax Donuts, and the Friends Who Know Me Best

Lately I've been binge-watching the show Army Wives on Netflix. I never saw it the first-time around. And now I can watch the complete series as I sit on my orange couch in a quiet living room, emptying a bag of Mint Milano cookies. Dangerous stuff. When I deep dive into a new book or series, I feel like I'm entering a new, unknown world. And, right now, I'm enjoying being an Army wife. I am struck by what it means to live and serve in the Army. I stand in awe of the commitment made by these individuals - not only what it means to commit to serve and fight, but what it means to be the wives and families of those in service. One of my former students, now an army wife, confirms that much of what the show portrays is true. I don't know how I would live with such a sense of impermanence. Army wives must be ready to pack up and move every few years. That means a new house, new friends, new schools for their kids. They cannot invest too much in their own careers

Raising Girls to be Brave Women

When I was little, I wanted to be exactly like Nancy Drew. If I were brave like her, I would walk fearlessly into any unknown situation and not lose my cool. I would be smart and clever. I would drive my own car, face off bad guys, and solve mysteries. I'd wear a plaid skirt and penny loafers, and I'd be brave. In reality, I was anything but brave. I was afraid of going to gymn class at 1 p.m. I was afraid of being kicked by a soccer ball or climbing the rope. I was terribly shy and didn't like talking to anyone. I was afraid of getting hurt. I was afraid of the dark, of boys, of shadows, of pretty much everything. Sometimes I still feel like that same scared girl on the inside - a girl who worries and frets - a girl who is fearful and timid. I have to be reminded to be a brave women and to inspire a brave daughter. What does it mean to be brave? Fierce. Strong. Independent. I want to be like that. I want my daughter to be like that. In the book (and movie)

My Aching Back and Why White-Out Doesn't Always Work

On a recent trip to our local home improvement store, I was helping my husband pick out boards. We are remodeling our 1960s-era kitchen, and he is cutting and staining cabinet doors. So, I was being a little picky. The first board had strap marks across it. The second board had a big knot hole in the center. And the third board wrenched my back. Ouch. I could feel my muscle twinge when I twisted just the wrong way. The board wasn't that heavy - just awkward. But I felt it. I knew I was in trouble. Two days later, I'm taking a prescription tablet of cyclobenzaprine and Advil, and wishing I wasn't so old. I'm also wishing I could take back that one moment. Why didn't I settle for board #2? Then yesterday, we went to pick up a piece of vintage treasure from a seller on Craigslist. $25. A bargain. I'm still a bit leary of meeting unknown sellers - and we were meeting at the storage facility which was fairly deserted. Just in case, I took my wallet out of

What is it really like to live in Florida?

Moving from the Midwest to Florida, I had certain expectations. Some good. Others bad. I looked forward to throwing away my down coat and my plastic ice scraper. I worried about humidity and hurricanes. Well, I've been here for six months now - January through July - and I have a much better idea of what there is to love (and maybe not love as much) about my new home. What you give up... 1) Grass Lawns . The grass in our Florida front yard is crab grass. They have all sorts of fancy names for it here, but it is definitely the stuff we tried hard to kill in the Midwest. This is weedy, finnicky grass. The ground is sandy. Even after what seemed like a drenching downpour, the sand appears untouched and parched. Yes, we do have green lawns - but if you look closely you can see the difference. 2) Seasons . Perhaps my biggest shock was to give up any semblance of seasons. I remember stopping at a restaurant in December and hearing a Christmas carol. Why are they playing Chr

A Legacy of Swedish Pancakes

On one of my last visits to my grandparent’s home in Green Bay, Wisconsin, they decided to lead my husband, daughter, and I out of town, so we followed their rambling Buick toward the expressway on-ramp.  When we stopped to buy gas, my grandma – “Honey” as I always called her – pressed a 3 X 5 inch piece of paper into my hand. On it, in her large looped cursive writing, was the recipe for her Swedish pancakes. The thin, crepe-like pancakes were my favorite, and I had helped her make them many times. If I close my eyes right now, I can remember how she’d lift my hand to show how the batter should be just right, coating the spoon. The oil, she’d explain, should be spitting a bit. Then the batter was poured and the pan tilted – this way and that – to make a thin pancake with sprawling crisped edges. Honey’s Swedish Pancakes. That day, I tucked the paper safely into my purse, and later set it on the kitchen shelf right underneath my spices. That recipe is my legacy

In Praise of Facebook Friendships

My husband looks at the number of "friends" listed on my Facebook page and laughs. "Those aren't all your friends," he quips. "How come I've never met most of them?" And, he's right. He hasn't. I have 955 friends on my Facebook feed, many who I have not seen face-to-face in years, even decades. Some were friends who I grew up with in the little south suburban, quarry town of Thornton, Illinois, where I was born. We were classmates together at Parkside Elementary and Wolcott Junior High. I rode my bike to school with Amy and went to birthday parties with Jill. Still others are friends who I sat in Sunday School next to and ran the Awana circle with back at First Baptist Church in South Holland. We played four square in the church basement and had lock-in nights playing capture the flag in the church lot. We sat in the back row, left side of the church sanctuary, and went out after the service for pizza. I have friends who went to

Slowing Down in Savannah, Georgia

Southern charm. I had heard about it, but I have never quite experienced it until I walked the gorgeous cobblestone streets of Savannah, Georgia. Recently, I took an entire week of vacation time and traveled a short 3 1/2 hour trip to Savannah. What a gorgeous, historical, romantic city! Milt, Sabrina and I met up with our good friends, the Obermaiers and visited SCAD (Savannah College of Art and Design) a school that both our daughter and their daughter are considering. In Savannah, we stayed at the B-Historic - a quaint hotel located right downtown. How great to be able to park our car for the entire visit and explore the city on foot. The first thing you'll notice about Savannah are the historic town squares. There is not just one beautiful square/park - as you find in many small Southern towns -  but dozens of them, arranged like a grid throughout the historic section of the city. Central to each one is a monument honoring a person of significance. Juliette

Fiesty Flannery: A Visit to the Author's Childhood Home

In college, my friend Amy and I were shameless Flannery O'Connor groupies.  We were fellow writers and students at a midwest Bible college. In our Creative Writing course, the professor introduced us to many authors we had never read - but Flannery quickly became our favorite. Her characters were unexpected: disturbing, grotesque, and larger-than-life. Yet they were also ordinary - the type of people you might encounter at your local WalMart. They were overweight, loud-mouthed, some suffered deformities, others were drifters. They spoke crassly, and then (often in the same breath) they would speak about God. As she said so well, "The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it." We had never read faith stories like these. Flannery O'Connor's stories were not the sanctified, made-for-tv Christian-novels we had grown up on by authors like Grace Livingston Hill or Janette Oke. These were rough and tumble, edgy, almost obscene. Ye

The Messy Downside of Perfect Parenting

My teenage daughter is volunteering at a children's art camp this summer. There is one little girl who wears 8 rubber bands on her left wrist. When she drinks a bottle of water, she moves one rubber band from the left wrist to her right. Her goal, she informed my daughter, is to drink all 8. Her mom says it is very important. The majority of the children - age 6 to 10 - say they are vegetarians. Their snacks are carefully restricted, and so (it seems) are their lives. Most of them leave art camp to rush over to another pre-scheduled summer activity. Something about this parenting style makes me nervous. Rubber bands. Eight glasses of water? Why do these children sound like a group of 40-something women doing power yoga? Why are they worried about fluid intake and calories? As a mom of one, I can only claim so much parental experience. But I do have some. And, I know that one lesson I have learned the hard way is to set aside the whole parenting-I-must-do-everything-

What I Learned From the Mentoring Group I Didn't Want to Join

I received the invitation to be in a professional women's mentoring group at work. And I thought - "What a wonderful idea...for someone else." Joining a mentoring program seemed like another "to do" on my pretty big list. I am a mom of a teenager. I work full time. We just finishing a cross-country move. I try to make time to write. And, occasionally, I clean house and cook. And, as long as I can remember, I have been a reluctant joiner. I don't really appreciate being assigned to relationships one-on-one or in a group. I prefer to go it alone quite a bit, and (when I do connect to others) I've found that relationships are best that happen naturally. But this invitation was different. It came from a former student and colleague who I greatly respect. She is kind and smart and thoughtful. She wanted to improve professional life and opportunities for women at our organization. How could I say no? So, I said yes. For the past months I have bee

After the Big Leap: Settling in After Major Change

I've been sighing a lot lately.  "Sigh."  "What's wrong?" says my mildly concerned husband. "Nothing," I reply. "Sigh...." And nothing is wrong. Really. Well, there are a lot of concerns floating around me - even fairly significant ones about family and friends. But my personal life has settled into a much more quiet and normal routine. We've made our big move - one of the biggest changes I've ever experienced. And, we've landed, feet on the ground, planted firmly on the other end. When we were in junior high, my teacher had this wild idea that I could learn gymnastics. They had this leather vaulting horse that we were supposed to run toward at full-speed, jump hard on a wooden bouncing board and hurdle ourselves into the sky, over the vault and onto the blue vinyl mats on the other end. Olympic champion Kerri Strug made it look easy . . . even with a sprained ankle. It is not easy. It is te

The Time I Knew I Was A True Mama

I remember one distinct moment when I knew I was no longer just a girl, I was a mama. We were camping in Door County, Wisconsin. Sabrina had invited a friend to stay with us for the week. Uninvited, but equally present, was a horrible stomach virus. First, her friend puked all over the back part of the camper, including all over the cute, little blue shag rug I put between the girl's beds. I pulled it out and suds it out in a hot bucket of soapy water. I called her girlfriend's mom, and (after many rounds of sickness) I fed her saltines and 7-up. This particular bug was hard-hitting and relentless and highly contagious. But I remember first staring long and hard at that smelly, revolting mess and thinking, "Now. I am truly a mother. Only a mom would do this." There was no one else to clean it up. I was it. I was the one who called upon to fix the problem. I was the mama. So I cleaned it up. And then, Sabrina got sick. And then, my husband followed su

My New Jet Setting Life and What I've Learned About Airports and Planes

I have never flown as often as I have in the past six months. And, I've traveled solo. Relocating from Chicago to Florida meant that I would need to travel back to home base, occasionally, for my job. Plus, I've added in conferences, work meetings in other states, speaking engagements, and one more trip for my daughter to attend an anime convention. So, I've been in and out of airports... a lot. Following is a list of unrelated incidents and observations from this newbie frequent flier: 1) Orlando Airport has the most children. Children bearing Mickey Mouse ears and in full-blown meltdowns from over stimulation. I have never, ever in my life seen so many cranky kids and adults with glazed-over eyes clutching their cups of coffee. 2) There is something joyous about going through security alone. For all of you mamas out there, you know what I mean. You only need to take off your shoes and coat, and unpack your Ziploc baggie of essentials. You only need to keep tra

Prayer for Nepal

Like thousands of others, I am praying today for the people of Nepal. The country is devastated - physically and emotionally. How many lives must be lost, oh God?  I am praying for help and peace and comfort. How it aches our hearts to know that we cannot do much except pray and send a check. Such little to do with such overwhelming need. When I was a little girl - probably 5th grade or so - my parents talked about becoming missionaries to Nepal. They were both public school teachers, and they had heard of great need in that country for Christian teachers. We talked about this - as a family - and we were all ready to go. Then, the country closed to outside missionaries, and our plans were cancelled. But dreams of Nepal stayed in my heart. When I was packing for our move, I found my construction-paper covered report from 5th grade on the country of Nepal, its people, its products, and other random assorted facts written on large-ruled notebook paper with encyclopedia

I Prayed for You Today

I walked on the beach this morning. And, as I walked, I prayed. I asked God to be with my good friend Jill as she says goodbye-for-now, today, to her father. for Teryn who has battled illness for the past year. for my friend Amanda and her daughter Meg who is serving God across the seas. for my friend Ben and his sister Stephanie, who is grappling with a diagnosis. for my brother-in-law Dave and for Bob and his family. for my friends Rachel and James and their baby son. for Junias, and Anna, and Melissa. for so many of you who have shared with me your fears and worries and struggles and concerns. I prayed and asked God for His healing and comfort - for His peace and joy - to do what only He can do. And then the sun came out, it peeked over the clouds, and it changed everything. God can do that. We serve an amazing, awe-inspiring God who can do anything. He holds all of this - all of our cares, worries, sicknesses, fears, concerns, all

Advice for College Graduates on Getting Your First Job - Part Two

Here's some helpful job-searching advice from former graduates who are now working (many of them in their desired field)! I received so many suggestions that I'm stretching these out over two more posts. On Getting Your Foot in the Door… Volunteer! Sharon writes, “My current job, as well as one previous job, I got through volunteering.  The organization knew me and valued me as a volunteer, and thought I would make a valuable employee.” “If you can’t work for money, work for free. Don’t be afraid of a day job, but keep building your portfolio,” Karen said. Nailing That Interview . . . Candy was impressed by one particular “fresh-out-of-college” candidate, “I hired Kaitlyn right out of college. She was professional, to the interview a few minutes early, sent me a link to her online portfolio, had good questions, and seemed to be a learner. I have continued to be impressed.” Finding Job Possibilities … “Make connections and network,” advises Kaitl

Advice for College Grads on Getting Your First Job - Part One

As a former college professor, I still get Facebook messages from students asking me for career advice. One of the most common is - How do I find my first job? I know it is daunting. College provides a sense of security. You know exactly what you are doing for the next four years. Then, many books and exams later, suddenly it is senior year, graduation, and the unknown is thrust upon you.You are forced to make some serious choices. Should you return home to live with mom  and dad? Find a job? Get an apartment? Go to graduate school? Just a few bits of personal advice if you decide to attempt that first job search: 1) Go for your big dreams first. My first round of resumes were sent to my dream jobs. I think I had ten of them. I was wildly unqualified. I had education, but not a huge amount of experience. Nevertheless I sent those first resumes out with high hopes and prayers. I only heard back from two, but two was great! One was an actual interview. The second, my letter