A Special Space...

            For quite some time, Todd and I have considered creating an office area in our home. Now that I’m doing a lot of writing, an office seems to make good sense - a place for me to spread out my paperwork, a place for file cabinets and shelving units – basically a writer’s dream come true! (but with a door that can shut out the messiness of the reality of the writer’s dream – you know - when people come over.)

It’s not that we don’t have ample space. Our daughter, Megan, has been married and vacated from her bedroom for more than three years already.  It’s just that at first it seemed wrong, you know? …like somehow by keeping the area bare and empty, we were acknowledging that she lives 1,000 miles away and, most of all, that we miss her… sort of a shrine, but with no pictures or awards or memorabilia – just empty space. (I know, worst shrine ever! Right?)

Knowing it would be right and even healthy to “move forward” and begin using Megan’s once-bedroom once again, Todd and I started to progress very slowly. About a year ago (See? No need to hurry here…) Todd began the project by painting her walls. The deep blue and bright yellow colors that she’d chosen for herself at age 15 only required three heavy, thick coats of our own preferred color choice: pale grey. (As a side note here I must mention that back in 2011, when Megan & Joe bought their own home, they were also confronted with two bedrooms that badly needed painting – one bright pink, the other bright blue. Right there and then she apologized to her dad for ever having chosen the blue and the yellow. Live and learn – what else can we do? (besides always choosing paint in pale colors, that is…)

Finally, just a couple of weeks ago, Todd and I moved our desk and office materials into her old room. It was kind of fun – boxing up supplies, cleaning and dusting, recreating a space that is now a true joy to occupy. It amazed me how much “stuff” had accumulated in the house because of my new hobby/profession. Aren’t certain hobby/professions messy? I literally had stacks of papers from all of my writing classes and projects strewn all around.

Since the move, I’ve gradually been sorting through everything and getting organized. I’m purging old files and creating new folders. Drawer space is opening up and boxes are disappearing from the floor. It’s a good feeling. I’m finding old writing projects that, possibly with a bit of tweaking, still hold merit. I can’t wait to get started.

But you know what the neatest thing about all of this is – something I never could have predicted? I can now sit at my desk, in the room where my daughter grew up, look out of her window, and think about her. It makes me wonder. How many discussions do you suppose we had in this room? Sure, we argued some - who doesn’t? But we also had a million heart-to-heart talks – plenty of tears, but more laughs than I could ever count. In fact I’m getting teary (but laughing too) as I’m writing this.

I now believe that keeping her old room vacant would have proved to be a big mistake. By taking the slow-but-steady steps to move forward, by providing this useable space for me to continue to create, I actually feel closer to Megan than I ever would have if this room remained an empty shriney shell.

Last summer, as I worked through the process of self-publishing my first book, “Five Fingers, Ten Toes…” Megan sent me a lovely birthday gift. It’s a plaque engraved with my author name, the book’s title, and one of the Bible verses from the writing. The note said, “For your new office.”

And now, the plaque is finally in its designated home.   

A Lenten Devotion on Forgiveness

The Institution of the Lord’s Supper

1 Corinthians 11: 23-26  For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes. (NRSV)

            “Why back in my day, we had to wait till we were conFIRMED to take communion…!” It’s true. When I was a young teenage Lutheran, my church friends and I attended (I think very) intense classes to learn all about the Lutheran Church’s beliefs and practices. We read books on Martin Luther and studied his Catechism. Memorization was KEY! We recited Bible verses, hymns, whatever our Pastor deemed important. Two nights a week and sometimes Saturday mornings (if our learning was lagging) our class sat together huddled in the church basement. Confirmation Day felt like a re-birth, a new beginning. After a stressful Examination of our class’s vast knowledge (at the 8:00 service) we could finally say we were “Confirmed,” and begin taking communion during the 10:30. I’d made it! Standing there, and finally kneeling there, red carnation pinned to my white flowing robe, the ensemble accented by my brand new platform shoes (it was 1975 after all) I felt I’d made it. At age 13, I’d never felt closer to God.

            But life has a way of moving in on us, doesn’t it? Teen years, dating, peer pressure, heading off to college (or for me, working that first ‘real’ job) - we’re all faced with challenges and issues that were only eluded to back in that church basement’s classes. I found out that people can act in crazy ways sometimes - and (if I’m being honest) so can I. We overdo some things, we under do others, and before we know it we’re married (or wishing we were), we’re parents (or wishing we were(n’t), we’re workaholics, alcoholics – well, we find there are addictions of every variety. Our lives swing out of balance and we grasp to gain back control (whatever THAT means). And as we’re grasping, many of life’s dearest treasures get in our way.

            Back in 1975, when our Pastor described the Lord’s Supper and the ‘forgiveness’ Christ offers us through his body and blood, I thought about it in much smaller terms. When a boy called me a name as I walked to the bus stop, I should forgive that act before I took communion. OK, I felt I could do that. But what about now that life’s issues loom larger? Can I forgive people now? What about the deep hurts that are caused by our families – our parents, spouses, children, brothers and sisters? What about our work acquaintances – our superiors, peers, and those who answer to us? What about our friendships? Do we forgive people when they hurt us, or is it easier or better to throw out our relationships at the first signs of trouble? Or sometimes, do we hang on too tightly to things we shouldn’t? Life can get pretty messy. We don’t always have our own answers.

But God knows all of that. He created each of us to be who he wants us to be. He knows our ins and our outs, our strengths and our flaws, our gifts and talents (as well as our foibles and shame). He also created a way through all of it by sending His son, Jesus, into this dark earthly world to take care of everything. Have you ever considered, really stopped to think, what it is that happens on Easter? God sent his Son to DIE for our sins. He hung on a cross for me - Kate! Insert your own name here too – it’s very powerful to think of this in personal terms! When you consider what He’s done and provided for us, it’s truly a miracle – a gift of pure love.

And so, through the earthly elements of the bread and wine, through Christ’s body and his blood, he provides to each of us forgiveness. All of the bad things we’ve done, left undone, said, not said – He forgives us. It’s free for us to take in and believe. He did all the work. Each time we eat and drink at His table, we are to remember that fact – and remember him. We should then go out and live as lights to this world, turn from our sins and bad behaviors, confident that we are forgiven, and ready to forgive others.

During Confirmation instruction all those years ago, our pastor taught us the petitions to the Lord’s Prayer, “…and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us…” Pastor warned us that sentence would be tricky… and boy, was he right.

But through communion, God forgives us, we forgive others, and hopefully, we even learn to someday, forgive ourselves…

Choices, choices...

After dinner last night, we were just hanging out, watching a little Friday night programming, when I saw a television commercial that posed an excellent question - a question that Todd and I have been struggling with here at our house for probably the better part of a year. The mind-plaguing question was simply this: DiGiorno, or Delivery?

Hmmmm, let’s see here – on the one hand, frozen pizza from a box… on the other hand, delivery?  Excellent question. Let’s analyze the possibilities for a moment…

This silly question hit home harder than you’d think because here’s the truth… For quite some time now, Todd and I have been desperately attempting to dub Sunday night as our Pizza Night. At the end of the weekend, all we want to do is make a simple salad, throw a pizza in our oven, and tune in to some Sunday night TV.

We’ve run the gamut of other Sunday night scenarios – making a big dinner (turkey, chicken, ribs) but then that sort of meal produces mega-amounts of dishes  - who wants all that work on a Sunday night? We tried Taco Bell & Golden Chicken runs – an alternative I do enjoy because it takes no kitchen effort on my part, whatsoever – but SOMEONE (we did take turns) had to leave the house (winter is challenging) and go get the food, usually making that person late for the kick-off of whatever show we wanted to watch. No fun… (sigh)

So ultimately, we thought we came up with a perfect solution – making something simple (like pizza) at home. But it’s hard – harder than you’d think! Every single week, while I’m stocking up on groceries in preparation for the weekend, I wheel my grocery cart into the freezer aisle, and stand in front of the frozen pizzas section. I’m almost beginning to dread it. You try finding a frozen pizza that measures up to the picture it bears and brags about on its box cover.

After some serious investigation of trial and error, against all odds, we finally found one brand that we loved. The crust was “just right,” the sauce wasn’t super spicy, the sausage seemed believable/authentic (unlike some brands’ artificial-seeming meat). But as soon as we became hooked, the grocery store discontinued it. I got up the guts to ask them, “Why?” but the answer was simple… “We just don’t sell enough to justify stocking them.” Really? What brand exactly are people finding so worthy? Frustrating...

And so last night, when posed with the commercial’s question: DiGiorno or Delivery? Well, it prompted me to write this blog! I’m still weighing the possibilities. I’m not gonna lie - delivery is a pretty tempting alternative. If only a delivered pizza didn’t taste like a box, if only it was super hot, if only the toppings came as accurately as we ordered them… (if only, if only…) And if only a frozen pizza wasn’t so temperamental, where two minutes one way or another wasn’t a deal breaker, the sausage was real and lived up to its cover photo… (if only, if only…)  

So I’ll tell you what I did this week - I actually BOUGHT a DiGiorno. I guess that we’ll give it a try. We’ll take a leap of pizza faith and step out. Time will tell. If it doesn’t live up to the frozen hype, next week there’s always Domino’s…

Side note: This is just meant to be silly. I’m truly grateful for all food and even pizza choices…

Ebb'ing and Flowing

Ebb’ing and Flowing – a phrase we use from time to time. “Life ebbs and flows,” I say. “Marriage ebbs and flows,” I advise.

But what in the world does that MEAN? Have you ever stopped to really think about that phrase? I did today. I really did. I stopped and thought and even looked up the word, “Ebb” in the Dictionary. “Flow” I get. “Flow” I witness through day-to-day occurrences. But “Ebb?” Well… the news isn’t quite as positive (at least at first glance). Here are my findings:

According to Oxford American Desk Dictionary, the word “Flow” means: “Moves smoothly or steadily, movement in a stream, hang easily or gracefully (like hair or clothing)…”  Things like that.

According to the same source, the word “Ebb” means: “Movement of the tide out to sea, recede, decline, a turn in circumstance…”  Things like that.

Now, of the two, I’m all about the flow. I could have a nice, flowing feel to my life all day, week, or month long. I like it when life just glides along like water in a nice, peaceful, easy river. The sun is shining, creating a sparkle on my water. No hurry, no worry because I’m inside the boundaries.  Thinking about the fact that the Ebb needs to horn in on my peaceful water-y scenario is disturbing. I don’t really want anything in my life to ‘recede’ or ‘decline,’ much less to be ‘pulled back.’  No “Ebb-age,” thanks, I’m going with the flow.

But then I stopped to think again. (I know - lots of stopping, lots of thinking. Good thing I wasn’t driving at the time.) If life never ‘ebb-ed,’ if it never pulled back or receded, how would anything ever change – not only for the worse, but also for the better? If everything just went along perfectly all the time, how would we ever grow?  (Oooo, cringe…  “G-R-O-W…” There’s that four-letter word for improvement, for change…)

And let’s not forget that even when water is flowing in a calm stream, it doesn’t always remain a peaceful, grand event. Too much rain can send the river flowing out and all around, creating havoc in our once-quiet flowing stream. And likewise, when the ocean recedes, we can enjoy the Ebb by walking barefoot in the extra sand for a while. Reversing either scenario does have its lessons.

So, let’s try this again… “Life ebbs and flows. Marriage ebbs and flows…”  Yup. Everything does. And sometimes it’s wonderful and sometimes it’s awful.

But somehow, I believe, it’s exactly what was intended.

You know you're getting older when...

You know you're getting older when...

We can each fill in the blank here, and our answers will vary as widely as our personality types. Maybe there's a health topic that you find permeating your advancing years - aging eyes or arthritis complaints. Or maybe you can see your age more and more because of your hair texture or its advancing silver-y color. Or maybe there's that extra 'ring around the mid-section' that never seemed to be there before. Bodies change as we grow older - no doubt about that!

But what about the ways we emotionally view things - everyday things - songs, even? Do those sorts of insights change as we get older? Can a song we've heard many times through our lives seem new once we - oh, let's see here - fall in love, get married, have children, lose loved ones?

...or become a boater?

Well, I can't speak for others, but for me - I answer with a resounding YES!

Case in point: A few days ago, I was almost home from an afternoon of errand-running, when an old song came on the radio. It was Gordon Lightfoot - The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. That song became popular when I was a sophomore in high school. Throughout my life, I've probably heard it a hundred times. BUT it never affected me before like it did a few days ago.  

I reached my garage about half-way thru G.L.'s storytelling; but rather than gather up my purse and scattered bags, I just sat there in the driveway and listened to the music. I found my eyes beginning to water and my throat closing - as though I was going to cry...?

Through the many years since that tragic accident, Todd and I have watched numerous documentaries about the ship's sinking. We became boaters ourselves. We've spent a fair amount of our summers on Lake Michigan's shores. In 2011, we trailered our boat up to the Apostle Islands in Lake Superior, and spent some time getting acquainted with that vast body of water. It was too cold to swim in in July - can you imagine its temperature in the late fall? (The song says 'the gales of November came early.) As you travel by boat to some of the Apostles' outer islands, and you can't see any land anymore to the north, you get a sense for how scary time on the water could possibly be - on a freezing cold November night in the middle of a storm. The E.F. was only 15 miles from land... tragic. "The church bell chimed, it rang 29 times, for each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald..." Such a haunting custom that mariners practice.

See? It's making me teary all over again!

So as I sat there, no longer 15 years old, but in fact 51, singing along to the song's lyrics I've known most of my life, I tried to process all of my new feelings and experiences of boating.

And I felt changed.

And I think that's okay - maybe even a good thing. Let's hope that life's moments change us - let's hope that as we grow in understanding, our compassion and sympathy deepens.

Otherwise, what's the point?

Enjoying the here and the right now (sometimes)

Hello and Happiest of Valentine's Days to you and all of yours!

As many of you know, I'm not someone who lives in the here and now. I (unfortunately) worry quite a bit, rather than just waiting to see how things will play out. Life experiences have taught me that there is no need for acting this way. Things have turned out very well, and certainly as they should. But even though I'm a Christian, and I really do believe that my future is in God's hands, I tend to be that person who wants to dictate the who's, what's, where's and why's of my life. What can I say? I'm a work in progress, I guess.

So it was funny. I ran into the grocery store earlier today, just to grab an item I'd forgotten for tonight's v day meal. There, in the bakery area, were containers upon containers of green shamrock cookies. (Double take) (Hold the phone) (What day is it again???)  Isn't it Valentine's Day? Shouldn't we be choosing from pink and red and white heart-shaped offerings, rather than shamrocks? Aren't we more than a month ahead of the game?

It made me stop and think. In the society that we live in, no wonder we think so far into the future. Why, today is the holiday, and we're already being tempted by the next one - which is more than a month off. Let's face it - the retailers trump Halloween and Thanksgiving with all of the Christmas trimmings. Sometimes before Labor Day we can begin choosing our ornaments and garlands for the upcoming season.

Nothing about the material world we live in suggests that we live in any sort of here or right now. Some people find comfort in this. They enjoy being able to get all of their ducks into rows, nice and early, and prepare prepare prepare. For others, it puts actual stress into lives. Sort of an OH MAN! Christmas is right around the corner already??? And it isn't - not really - but that's what it FEELS like because that's all that we see, hear, and take in, for a quarter of a year.

So as I drove home, thinking about all of this, I stopped and grabbed my mail from my mailbox. To my great surprise, there were two (what you just KNOW are) cards. Not bills - nothing that needed a payment of any kind, but yes, actual cards. Like in colored envelopes, with your name handwritten in ink and everything. I couldn't wait to get upstairs, unload my errand-running treasures, and delve into my two (count 'em TWO) cards.  I felt like Snoopy when he puts his nose in the air and does his little dance of joy...

The first one was from a friend that I've known since I was 14 (37 years). We don't see each other very often - maybe once or twice a year - but every so often if we see something fitting, we send each other a silly or sassy card - and I was the lucky beneficiary this time. Of course the card depicted two aging females, who were spouting off a joke with a double entendre - and of course it made me smile and shake my head. The second card was more serious, heartfelt, from a woman I've known for just a couple of years. But there are just some people in this world that you 'click' with - and she is (so definitely) one. Friendship - whether long-term or newly-formed - how wonderful it can be!

I couldn't have predicted how nice getting those two cards would make me feel. It was impromptu. For me, it was unplanned. But knowing that someone thought of me and took the time to say "Hello," well, it felt priceless. And if either of you are reading this, thank you so much!!! You made my day.

So whether we begin celebrating events and holidays months in advance, or whether we begin worrying about things that ever may or may not happen, or whether we don't give a care in the world about any of those things and leave everything up to God - I think we'd all agree that some of life's greatest treasures are those unpredictable friends who surface at just the right moments.

That said, I am feeling blessed to BE a blessing... Next time, it's my turn :)  Have a great day!

Part Two - A Parent's Fear of Bullying

On Thursday, January 31, I posted a blog about bullying, and that in my opinion, it's always existed, it's a part of nature (plants, animals and humans) at every level. I shared that, as a kid, I was called some pretty harsh names and that sometimes others played tricks on me, etc. I also explained that by not quitting band (and other things along the way), but by personally becoming a better musician, I rose above some of those behaviors. I actually watched the bullies around me fall to their own demise - not by anything I ever did TO them, but really, by simply being me - concentrating on and bettering my own self.

So how did all of that play out as I became a mother? Oh boy...

For those of you who've read my book, "Five Fingers, Ten Toes - A Mother's Story of Raising a Child Born With a Limb Difference," you know that at the age of 24, without a prior heads-up, my husband Todd and I became parents to a baby boy who was born missing part of his left arm. After about two days of 'getting used' to that fact, I had about a thousand questions that had already built up inside of me. But one of the main questions was: Will my little boy ever have friends? Will he be picked on? So... as a 24-year-old brand new mother of a child born with a birth difference, not even yet discharged from the hospital, one of my main fears for my new child was - would he be bullied? I (wrongly) figured that if I'd (someone born with two hands) had those bad experiences as a child, I assumed (wrongly again) that a kid with one arm might be a real target.

Though Tony was born in the winter, and for a few months he was bundled up in snowsuits and blankets, the day came that those convenient disguises no longer worked. Spring sprung, and it was time to unveil bare arms. Tony was only four months old, so I had to get with the program. I needed to shed any pre-conceived ideas of what I'd encounter, and I needed to get him out there into the world and figure out how this would all play out. No matter what I felt on the inside, no matter what I knew from my own prior bullying experiences of growing up, I needed to hold my head high FOR HIM and show him that he was FABulous exactly as he was...

Now, HOW?

With God's help, I did it. From his babyhood on, somehow I found the strength to look people in the eyes. I took the time to answer the same questions hundreds of times. I tried to educate anyone who was interested, from little kids to grandparents, about limb differences, letting them know that Tony would be just fine. And as he grew, he saw how to handle things, he heard my repetitive words and so he grew to know his own responses. After a while I paused longer, waiting to see if he'd jump in to answer the questions himself. He did. If I felt it was too difficult a question, I'd chime in. Whatever worked - it wasn't an exact science, but together we figured it out. Even though he was so little, he taught me so much.

Through those continuous public exchanges, his own confidence grew, and he found his own voice.

We enrolled both of our kids in activities that they found interesting. But once they were enrolled, they were in for the semester or year's (whatever amount of time) duration. No quitting. We believe that seeing something through creates confidence - even if you become confident that you don't care for that activity. Sure, sometimes they tried things that didn't work out, but they also became good at other things. And doing your best also creates confidence. Confidence. Confidence. When you are confident, it's a lot harder to believe the negative comments that people make about you. And believe me when I say that people WILL make negative comments about you. I don't care WHO you are, WHAT you look like, or WHAT you've accomplished. We all need to know who we are, and stand confident - kids AND parents!

In  building the kids' self-esteem, I believe they rose above some of the negative conversations that happened around them. We, as parents, talked with them a lot. We shared how 'things' were back in the olden days and made connections to the here and now. We let them know when they were wrong - gave them discipline when necessary. I told someone recently that Tony became a really fine athlete - arm, no arm, three arms - if you're a good soccer player, other kids want you kicking the ball for their team! Substitute the words 'soccer' and 'kicking' in the previous sentence with ANYthing... If you're a math whiz the other math whizzes will find you and claim your numerical wizardry. If you're a good speller, there will be a need for the next 'bee.' If you have a nice voice, the choir group will want you for their next musical or drama performance. 

OH! But you better be kind to others! Don't hotdog around and act like you're 'all that.' Even if you're good, you can get bullied if you're not humble. It's a balance - find the balance!

Did my kids ever get bullied? Well... a little. Nothing they couldn't handle. And they knew we were right there if anything did get out of hand. But by coming home and telling us about it, we could talk strategies about good ways to deal. I was a watcher - Early on I watched how things played out from a bit of a distance, making sure the kids could handle what was coming, and chatting about it later.

Kids - people of all ages really - will find something to tease others about. Grown men in the work place call each other names and criticize each others' clothing choices, for crying out loud! For my daughter, who had all of her limbs, it turned out that her classmates thought her snowpants were the wrong color, and teased her on the playground. (Of course they really were an odd color because it was the end of the season and the green ones were her size and on sale!) (I told her the snowpants helped build her character) (She thanked me) (or course)  ;)

My worst fears about my son being bullied because of his arm really didn't happen. But I did take the time to lay some pretty serious early groundwork. Pay attention, help the kids figure out strategies, use humor, show them how to be kind to others... they will find their ways. 

And the ways can be so good...!

Katie Kolberg Memmel
Author of "Five Fingers, Ten Toes - A Mother's Story of Raising a Child Born With a  Limb Difference"  Available through Amazon as both a Kindle download and a paperback.