Summer Days of the Free Birds

What a fun time of year! Spring has definitely sprung in our neck of the woods. The grass is growing like a weed – well, you know what I mean… I’ve cut it at least three or four times already! The temperatures are hovering around 80 degrees (although last weekend was 50 - it is Wisconsin, after all…) It’s been fun on Facebook lately with people posting pictures of their kids’ last school band and choir concerts, their end-of-the-year field trip photos, their children’s pending graduation plans… All of these signs point toward one thing – the end of the school year is nearing and summer vacation is about to kick off!

I ask you with all seriousness – where in the world do the years go? I suppose that the mere fact that I’m asking the question points to the obvious - I’m getting old. Certainly, when you’re going through the daily ups and downs of child rearing and raising you know exactly where the year is and the speed at which it’s moving. But since I’m no longer participating in the daily tutelage of youngsters, I’ve begun to marvel at exactly how quickly the clock moves forward.

So as I reflect back, I can’t help but smile when I think about some “last day of school” occasions of our own. Of course my kids began their final countdowns on May1st. “Only six weeks of school left, but not counting weekends or Memorial Day, that only leaves…” and they calculated the precise amount of days remaining until the very last day. There was always such an energy that surrounded this time of the year.

In the late 90’s when my own two kids (Megan and Tony) were about 8 and 11, 9 and 12, etc. we had some great times. I owned an older model LeBaron convertible – a robin’s egg blue color body, with a black top. As the final bell rang at 3:25, I’d pick them up, load all of their “stuff” from the school year into the trunk, and we’d drive around with the car top down. “Can I interest anyone in an ice-cream cone to celebrate?” I’d ask, knowing full well I’d have two takers for ice-cream in no time. And just like the old Lynyrd Skynyrd tune, I’d tell the kids we were now “Free Birds,” ready to enjoy the summer any way we chose.

Back then I had a small side business. I finished my jobs early in the day so that I could often clear the afternoons for fun. We put a lot of miles on that old car. I purchased passes for the local pool and frequently took them swimming; we picnicked with friends and swam at beaches; we saw movies (The Sand Lot, Rocket Man); went to Summerfest (during the day because nights got kinda adult crazy); signed them up for baseball and cheered at most of their games… It was the time before they worked part-time jobs and before they had significant others… “Old days, good times I remember. Fun days, filled with simple pleasures…” (Song by ‘Chicago’) I’m not going to lie – by the time late August rolled around, I usually felt ready for school to begin, but by then we’d shared lots of fun summertime adventures.

Of course part-time jobs did start – in fact, Todd and I insisted on it as a part of life. And ‘significant others’ did join the mix – in fact, it’s normal and right for that too. Sometimes we included the others in on our family time, sometimes we did things alone; but those pure summer days of the Free Birds became fewer and farther between.

And I think that’s okay. Each stage of life has had its time and place. As I mentioned in my book (Five Fingers, Ten Toes) there were days as a young mother that I actually wished my time away. I’m not particularly proud of myself for that admission, but it is true. Then there were years, like I described earlier, that were full of fun. The kids were at delightful ages, full of good conversations and lots of laughs.

Eventually they grew up and went off to college and got married – and all of that was normal - right.

Now Todd and I are boaters, and we try to get away on our boat a few times every summer. We enjoy good food, a cocktail (or two) from time to time, and adult conversations that don’t revolve around baseball or swimming (as fun as those topics were!).

Do I miss ‘the good old days?’ Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t. These days I’m actually trying to concentrate on living a bit more in the here and now…

But if I dare to dream about the future – well - who even KNOWS how we might be spending our summers down the road???  (Or with WHOM for that matter???  I better just focus on takin’ it day by day for now.)

But I’ll say this - I do hope that when Megan and Tony think back to their childhood, that they fondly remember me and the summers we spent as “Free Birds.”

Katie Kolberg Memmel is the author of the book, “Five Fingers, Ten Toes – A Mother’s Story of Raising a Child Born With a Limb Difference.” For more information, go to her website at www.katiekolbergmemmel.com 

 

My Memorial Day Memories

So if you had to take a guess, how many different ways have you celebrated Memorial Day? I find that when I try to answer that question, I have to say there are many different ways I’ve celebrated – some, however, proved more memorable than others…

When I was young, my parents purchased land and built a small cottage “up north” in central Wisconsin. If my dad had the time off from work, we used the Memorial Day weekend to (in their words) “open up the place” for the short summer season. I’d get excited to go, as most kids do, hoping to be able to swim, swim, swim… but swimming in May in Wisconsin is a very rare occurrence. For example, this year, there was still ice on the lake less than a month ago, so…  (Yikes! That’s cold!)

If Dad had to work one of the days, then a backyard in-town barbecue became an option. Sometimes we’d invite a few people over and my parents would actually grill out. My dad wasn’t big on grilling – with a perfectly good stove in the kitchen, he didn’t see the attraction to charcoal, lighter fluid, or why that method was so preferred. But once in a while he indulged us.

As I got a little older, and joined my high school’s band and choir organizations, we actively participated in early Monday morning civic celebrations. I remember standing ‘at attention’ in my band uniform in a local cemetery, readying to play taps or another patriotic anthem for our hometown veterans. When I was a senior, a particularly memorable year, our choir sang the “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” It was somber, moving, beautiful – for that moment; but I hate to admit that at 15, 16, 17 years of age, I more-than-likely was eagerly anticipating the afternoon’s promised picnic in the park - complete with a water balloon fight; or the Milwaukee Brewers game and cook-out that awaited, pulling at my all-too-short teenage attention span.

As young marrieds, my husband (Todd) and I usually cashed in on the three-day holiday weekend to work in our yard, go to a blockbuster film, grill brats, or (not that this brought me much joy, but) golfed. However, when I reached my late 20’s, I dug deep into my closet, dusted off my old trumpet, brushed up on my rusty musical skills, and joined an area civic band. On Memorial Day, the band volunteered their time to entertain parade-goers at the end of a local parade route. I found myself viewing the experience much differently than I had as a teen. I watched closely as some of the veterans saluted, witnessed tears in their eyes and on their cheeks, and knew our music meant something deep – deeper than I’d ever realized ten years before.

In the mid-90’s, Todd and I bought a boat, and for many years we used the weekend to get out of town – making sure our vessel was in tip-top mechanical and running order for summer. But then, once our children joined their own high school marching band, everything changed again. Our city’s Memorial Day parade was considered ‘required’ for band membership. So we found ourselves back in the civic mode, cheering on the band as they marched past us on Main Street, as they played versions of  Sousa’s “Stars and Stripes Forever,” and “America the Beautiful.”  By May of 2001, at the age of 40, I was now the one who was crying.

What am I trying to say here? What does Memorial Day really mean to me?

Technically, it is a day set aside to remember those who died while serving our country; but the day has also become a time for remembering all who have passed. Last October (2012), Todd and I had the privilege of visiting the battlefields of Gettysburg. Looking out over that vast area, listening to the Civil War history, picturing all that happened there, the blood that was shed - makes everything more stark – much more real for me; reflecting back on national disasters - some man-made and man-implemented (9/11, the Boston Marathon bombings) – some naturally disastrous (hurricanes, floods, tornadoes); And closer to home - the more I’ve talked with my own dad (presently 90 years old) through the years; the more stories I’ve listened to him tell about his time spent fighting in World War II; the fact that my mom passed away and now lies in a local cemetery; a friend who lost her grandchild way too early; all these experiences have deepened my overall respect and appreciation for observances of Memorial Day.

It is a coveted three-day weekend for many. I can’t deny that we love that aspect for kicking off our summer. We have shopped, gone to movies, grilled burgers and brats, golfed and boated…  

But, for me, as I now reflect back on Memorial Days past, what stands out the most in my mind, are all of the years of civic-centered and personally reflective celebrations. When I participated all those years ago, it seemed to be for others’ memories, for others’ reflections, maybe even for others’ enjoyment. But thank God I went through the motions then, because all those experiences have become my own personal memories now… very special memories… and it looks like the memories last a lifetime…

Here’s hoping you have a blessed and memorable Memorial Day – however you choose to remember…

God bless America, land that I love…

 

Katie Kolberg Memmel is the author of “Five Fingers, Ten Toes – A Mother’s Story of Raising a Child Born with a Limb Difference.” The book is available through Amazon as both a paperback and a Kindle download.  http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=katie+kolberg+memmel 

Remembering Mom on Mother's Day...

My mom passed away in February of 2003. I expressed in my book, “Five Fingers, Ten Toes…” that I don’t think I did enough grieving about it at the time. She’d been ill for quite some time, so her passing was expected. Not only that, but I had two teenagers in the house and life moved on very quickly.

I don’t know if this is normal or not, (where grief is concerned, what is normal, right?) but there have only been a couple of times in ten years where I’ve really, really missed her – like deep-down sadness overwhelms me and I miss her. One of those times was while I prepared to host a bridal shower in my home. I knew how passionately Mom would have loved attending that shower and wedding, and the pain of that missed opportunity overtook me. And again, this week, has been rough on me as well. Since there’s no big event (like a bridal shower) coming up, I can only assume my emotions hit hard because the number ten (years since her passing) seems so significant. Mother’s Day is this Sunday, so she’s in my thoughts more than usual. I don’t know, I’m guessing.

One thing is certain. When I got to thinking about her, I decided I wanted to share a few of my thoughts here on the blog.

I think that a lot of little girls are ‘daddy’s girls.’ But I wasn’t. Though I presently get along great with my dad, back then I think I was more of a ‘mom’s girl.’ I liked the time she and I spent together; and since my siblings are all significantly older than me, and my dad worked a lot, Mom and I spent a whole lot of time together.

I loved shopping with her. Days spent shopping were always about me – she rarely shopped for herself when we were together. So she’d let me try on clothes, and then go out and exchange sizes for me, rave about how nice something looked, or even admitted it wasn’t ‘for me.’ But whatever she said, I knew I could believe her. No ‘pity likes’ from my mother. And then as long as we were out, she’d say, “Well, we may as well grab some lunch/dinner! Why, it would be silly to go all the way home now, right?” (She winked)

Whenever I went away to a camp or an event for a few days, as soon as I got back I’d fill her in on all the fun stuff I experienced, and all the great people I met. She was a wonderful listener – something that’s truly lacking in our busy world today. I realize now that being a good listener is something I strive for in my own life – I probably got that gift from her. She’d say, “Kate, a good conversation is like a game of catch. Sometimes you throw the ball (talk) and sometimes you catch the ball (listen). But if both people don’t follow the rules, the game (conversation) falls flat.” Wise words… I try to live up to that idea to this day in my own dealings and conversations

When I was a young teenager, I didn’t enjoy babysitting very much. One family in particular gave me a real ‘run for my money’ (so to speak). I told my mom the next morning that the five-year-old boy had yelled at me, “I hate you!”  She asked me how I handled it and I said I didn’t know what to say. She offered as advice, “If he ever does that again, just smile at him and say, well I like you.” At the time I thought she was sort of nuts, but since she raised four kids, maybe she knew what she was talking about.

When I was in high school, I filled her in on all of the up-and-coming hot young musical artists. I think she liked Billy Joel because I liked Billy Joel, but she was never quite clear on what some of those lyrics meant… As we did the dishes at night, with just the kitchen radio as our background, I’d tell her about Fleetwood Mac and Elton John (this was still back in the 70’s – before so many public revelations were made or confessed).

And I must say that in relation to issues of boys and dating – my mother could have personally written the book, “He’s Just Not That Into You…”  (Minus the sex references, of course)  She had male/female behaviors nailed down to a tea. “Don’t call boys, Kate – if they are interested, they’ll call you.” I must admit that I didn’t always heed her wise words; but in hindsight I should have - could have. I now believe she was right about a whole lot of things.

It was that wisdom I missed most while raising my own two children. How I would have loved to ask her a million questions about raising kids – teens especially. Nothing seemed as terrible once I voiced it to Mom. She’d usually say something like, “Oh yeah, that’s normal. Why, one time…” and she’d have an anecdote that eased the tough situation.

But she passed away at age 74 – relatively young in today’s years. My siblings reaped more of her good advice on child raising than I did. I figured it was a good thing I’d listened attentively years ago when I was young, and had the chance.

Anyway – I just wanted to take this pre- Mother’s Day time to chat a bit about my mom and why I thought she was special. Now that I’m 51 and I can see my own personality traits so clearly, (some lovely, some more terrifying ;) ) I realize that my mom passed some great wisdom on to me. Some I used instantly and have used throughout most of my life. Some I’m just seeing clearly now for the first time.

There were certainly times she possessed the ability to infuriate me. I believe I possessed the same ability for her some days. But, just like the advice she gave to me about the boy I babysat, I like to think of her smiling, winking, and saying, “Well, I like you…”    Anyway…

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! I miss you and I’ll love you always…

 

Living Real Life - Through the Movies...?

“You don’t want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie!”

Rosie O’Donnell’s character in “Sleepless in Seattle”

            Sometimes I think it would be fun to live life in a movie…

            When it comes to movies, I really enjoy romantic comedies. The more romantic and comedic, the more I like it. Just to share a glimpse of what I’m talking about, some of my favorites include (but are not limited to): “When Harry Met Sally,” “You’ve Got Mail,” “My Big Fat Greek Wedding,” and “Sleepless in Seattle.”  Each of these films holds the ability to bring both a laugh to my lips and a tear to my eye – two qualities I find absolutely imperative to my personal movie enjoyment.

            Since I enjoy this genre so much, it is often tempting to compare my own life to that of the movie’s characters. Believe me when I say that’s a “BIG mistake, HUGE! Mistake…” (Pretty Woman) Comparing our OWN careers, homes, kids, friends, or loves to those from romantic comedies…?  “I don’t think so…” (Home Alone) (Okay, not a romantic comedy, but how could I resist?) Whenever we contrast our own situations to those of Hollywood fiction, I believe we set ourselves up for certain failure. Real life tends to come up a bit short – and yet I DO compare...

            In the movies, doesn’t it seem that regardless of the depth of the turmoil, if “someone” intervenes on another character’s behalf, then all can be made well with the world? For example, if someone’s boss is miserable and unreasonable, another character points out to said boss the error of his/her ways. That boss then miraculously experiences an AHA! moment, suddenly aware of and understanding of all of his/her reprehensible behavior up to that point in life, and changes comPLETEly (usually in the last 5-10 minutes of the film). Careers are changed for the best, raises are awarded, and everyone lives happily ever after. (sigh)

Or here’s another one… If one person is in love with someone, and the other person doesn’t KNOW it, then “another person” steps in and explains the entire scenario to the 2^nd person. THEN suddenly EVERYthing is clear and person #2 realizes that they are also madly in love, and wonders WHY he or she ever wasted so much time without person #1. ALL is resolved (usually in the last 5-10 minutes of the film) and the two fall deeply in love, get married and live happily ever after (at least until the sequel comes out, the couple has a baby, and the new plotline challenges the first movie’s neatly wrapped-up ending).

Yes, I’m semi poking fun, but I think that what I love most about these made-up movie stories is that somehow situations always resolve. I like that concept - I WANT things to resolve – I CRAVE resolution. But in REAL life, it’s usually messier – missing a few minor details. For example, wouldn’t it be nice to have “someone” intervene on our behalf sometimes? Wouldn’t it be neat if our work acquaintances stepped up and stuck their necks out and said, “You’ve got this wrong – Joe’s a great guy who works hard and deserves a promotion – in fact, give him mine!”  OR “Joanne, you’ve got it wrong! Joe’s always loved you – it’s always been you and only you!”

But in real life (unlike life in a movie) I find there’s a general feeling of I better not get involved – it’s none of my business.  I ask you - where would a good romantic comedy be if that sort of attitude prevailed?  (Dead at the box office, THAT’s where!)

I guess what I’m trying to say is that sometimes other people DO see our lives more clearly than we see them  ourselves. Sometimes it WOULD help a guy or gal to have a concerned friend or loved one intervene on their behalf. Even with that sort of help, I’m smart enough to know that not every person approached (a boss or a Person #2) would see the error of his or her nasty ways; but wouldn’t it feel good sometimes to not feel like we’re just hanging out there all by ourselves?  Maybe these movies fill a hole, a deep-down wish – bring a feeling of hope…?

And so, Rosie O’Donnell’s quote from “Sleepless in Seattle,” strikes a true chord with me. I don’t want to just live life - I guess I want to live life in a movie.

           Sure, it’s a fantasy, but honestly, wouldn’t it be nice?  (And even a little bit fun...?)

We Just Never Know...

“From the high to the low to the end of the show for the rest of their lives…” Billy Joel

            Isn’t it funny (and by funny I mean strange) how quickly our lives can change? A day, an hour, minutes, even seconds, can change everything – sometimes for the very worst, sometimes for the ultimate best.

            Take last Monday for example (April 15, 2013)…

            That morning I was reeling with the unexpected news that my son, Tony Memmel, had just been awarded the honor of “Singer/Songwriter of the Year” by the Wisconsin Area Music Industry (WAMI). At an event the night before, they announced his name, and in the blink of an eye, I saw years of his hard work, dedication, and love of music all come together for him. I actually cried tears of happiness for him as I felt a gamut of emotions: satisfied, excited, (maybe even) thrilled, and certainly ready to celebrate!

I use the internet for work, and also enjoy social networking, spending a great deal of my time on Facebook. That morning was no different. As always, people bantered - wishing their friends “Happy Birthday,” news stations forecasted weather and reported on local happenings, friends posted silly cartoons about cleaning and wine drinking, and some wrangled on about religion and politics… just another day in the life.

Later, when I returned home from errand running, I flipped on my television and couldn’t believe what I was seeing or hearing. “Breaking News! Two explosions occurred near the finish line of the Boston Marathon. A holiday in Boston – Patriot’s Day – a day when people celebrate our country’s freedoms; a day that runners who’ve trained hard and dedicated their time and energy to their sport, come together – some to compete, some to celebrate life.” Over and over they showed us the footage; over and over I witnessed the mayhem that unfolded. I felt glued to that spot, not wanting to go, but knowing I should. I must… leave… the TV… I must… leave… the TV… It’s hard to do though when you want to stay up-to-date and know what’s going on.

I texted my husband. “It doesn’t look good,” he said. Later he told me that a man he works with had just finished the race about ten minutes before the explosion. The guy was okay.

I texted my daughter at her job, in Connecticut. “Are you okay? They’re saying the east coast is under a watch.”  She wrote back, “We’re fine. But how can someone be so evil?” Indeed, the question we’ve been asking ourselves quite often these days…

I spoke with Tony on the phone. As a touring musician, he’s travelled a great deal, and counts Boston as one of his and Lesleigh’s very favorite cities in the country. The kids have musical ties there, friends there, many people and places they care about. He was feeling this devastation - hard.

It was interesting to see the changes on Facebook too. An immediate somberness settled over the site. Just about everyone I know posted something along the lines of, “Our thoughts and prayers are with the people of Boston tonight…” Candles, flowers, poems, you name it.

Life changes fast, no doubt about it. It swings from light-hearted banter, to poems and prayers. I think that we all need to learn that when something good and wonderful happens, we should truly celebrate that good – and celebrate swiftly! Enjoy every minute… I think that when something bad or tragic transpires, we need to mourn and grieve, take the time to feel that sadness as deeply as necessary.

Somehow through it all, though, we need to find a balance, because as sure as I am writing this, we will continue to experience “the highs and the lows to the end of the show for the rest of our lives…” (See Billy Joel’s quote above)

It’s not going to ever stop.

And the truth is, we just never know…

Old Habits Die Hard...

                Guilty as charged! I hereby admit that I am an excitable person. I smile quite a bit, laugh often, and even lose my temper from time to time. I take enjoyment from many avenues of life - friends, family, good music, a glass of white zin and sometimes even a stimulating TV show. But honestly, nothing stirs more excitement within me these days, than getting together with those I love most (also known as my immediate family). Since my daughter, Megan, and son-in-law, Joe, moved to the east coast in 2010, our core family only reunites a couple of times a year. These gatherings are prime time occasions for me now, and I tend to love every minute.

            So - shortly after I wrote my blog post about remodeling Megan’s bedroom into an office (A Special Space – 3/20/13), I received an exciting phone call from her...

“Mom? What are you doing next weekend, and how would you feel about having a couple of visitors?”  Of course she meant her & Joe…

“WHAT??? Yes! Of course! That would be great! Make the plans immediately! Do not hesitate!” Did I use enough punctuation in this sentence to reinforce how excited I felt???

Coincidentally, it felt strange that almost as soon as I hung up the phone, just as soon as I got this great news that Megan and Joe would be here for four days and three glorious nights, I began to worry. Now, I’ve shared with you before that I tend to be a worrier. If it weren’t for me, I don’t know how the familial worrying would ever get done! No one else seems to take the job nearly as seriously as I do! I’m saying this like it’s a joke, but as with most good humor, there’s almost always at least a thread of truth…

Now, a legitimate question that might pop into your mind might be, “What in the world would Katie need to worry about? Her daughter’s coming home! She loves spending time with her kids! She should be excited!” And of course you would stand correct on all counts. My daughter WAS coming home and I WAS excited. In fact I grew so excited that I realized that four days would go by so fast, three nights would fly by, how would we all be able to get together? How would the kids get to see Joe’s family, PLUS my dad, my aunt, my sister, Tony…Oh yea - Lesleigh had to work, how could we possibly get everyone into the same room at the same time and what would I make for dinner and what would they want to drink, and now that we made her bedroom into an office, where would they sleep for Heaven’s sake, and… and… and….?  

My son’s intuition zeroed in on my ever-rising stress level. “What’s going on, Mom? You seem really distracted.”

Brilliant – he’s onto me!  “Oh nothing,” I lied, which never works around here. “I’m just wondering how we might best coordinate the upcoming weekend with Megan and Joe.” I proceeded to explain how little time we had and how many plans I was planning…

He then, in turn, proceeded to give me some very good advice. “Mom, you need to relax…” It makes me laugh to type that now, but he did say it lovingly – and it really is solid counsel. And then, in true Tony form, he quoted some song lyrics, “Ya gotta rock wit it, roll wit it…” Nothing like a little rap tune to soothe the 50-something year-old’s soul…

But seriously, he was right. I did need to relax. I needed to focus on the here and now. I needed to zap into reality. I needed to choose and implement my best-laid plans, and leave the rest to lie for yet another day… or long weekend. I reflected back to the whirlwind weekend that Megan and Joe visited Tony in Massachusetts when he flew there for the Helping Hands event. (See blog post “Gettin’ Together” - 1/26/13.) They had less than 11 hours together (and a few of those were sleeping) and ended up having a very special and impromptu time. Maybe ‘quality’ really does trump ‘quantity.’

Well, Megan and Joe came for their visit. As it turned out, the weekend was a hit. We arranged visits with some family, shared many laughs - heard stories that become short and unanimated during brief phone calls, but are a true hoot in real life. We drank coffee, ate pancakes, took family photos, figured in a fish fry with Lesleigh! Joe got to see his family members. And low and behold, somehow, it all…worked…out!!! Amazing! J

So… on the scale of  “Family? What’s that?” to “We will NEVER have enough family time” I feel our visit ranked right around the mark of “We did the very best we could with the short amount of time we had.”

            … and I can’t WAIT till next time! 

I wonder what will happen if they…  

            Sorry, old habits die hard.

Faith - Seriously?

Faith – Seriously???

            I’ve actually heard this question quite a bit through my life:

Faith – Seriously? You believe in God? Come on! It’s all just fairy tales…!

(at least that’s a little summary of the ‘gist’ of some of the comments I’ve fielded…)

But to answer that question, I don’t have to even hesitate. The answer is a resounding YES! YES, I have faith – seriously! In fact, I have serious faith! I DO believe in God, and let me tell you when you feel His presence personally, you know it ain’t no fairy tale!

It’s kind of interesting to think back and to ponder why it is that I feel the way I do. My earliest recollections of going to church are sort of funny. I must have been 5 or 6 when the old church my family attended, began a remodeling project. I remember being scared to death of the wooden planks and holes we were supposed to walk over. And then, as a kid, I can remember being really upset when Christmas Eve day was on a Sunday, and not only did we “hafta” go to church in the morning, but we ‘hadta’ go at night too! Geez! Are ya kidding me???

But as I grew, my own life also became integrated into the life of the church. I no longer found it dull at all. I made friends, attended Sunday School during the fall and winter, Vacation Bible School during the summer. “Lutheran Girl Pioneers” was to us as Girl Scouts were to others – we went on field trips, campouts, learned knot tying and babysitting skills.  

Even when I was a kid, God seemed very real to me, and somehow all of the Bible stories made perfect sense to me (no fairy leanings whatsoever). If my classmates and I had questions, our teachers seemed ready to answer and discuss. To my way of thinking, of course Joseph’s father gave him a coat of many colors and (out of jealousy) his brothers threw him in a pit and he was rescued and became a ruler in Egypt! Of course Moses (by raising a stick) parted the Red Sea with God’s guiding, and saved the Children of Israel from the Pharaoh. Of course they threw Daniel into a den of lions and he came out unscathed. Of course a baby was born to a virgin and that child grew up to be the greatest teacher, healer and prophet the world would ever know – and YES, he died for our sins - and rose again – which we will too if we believe it. Of course that all happened (and will continue to happen)!

As I moved into Confirmation instruction (which I share about in my Lenten Devotional Blog Entry) all of the Bible’s teachings took on deeper meaning. More was expected from us in our learning, and consequently, my faith deepened. I didn’t fight any of it. For some reason I connected with it. Sure, I asked a thousand questions, but instead of that being a deterrent, I sought, believed the answers, and really connected.

And as I grew up, church friendships deepened as well. Some of the best friends I ever had were connected to that little church. We were just kids – not perfect by any means – but being part of that youth group, preparing and serving (did I mention the clean-up?) the Easter breakfasts, singing in the choir, Christmas caroling, bowling, sledding, the camping experiences – every bit of it served to somehow deepen my faith in God.

When I met and became engaged to my husband, Todd, I needed to be sure that he’d be on board with a Christian lifestyle – it was a deal breaker. I could never have imagined my life without God in it. He’d been raised Catholic, but hadn’t been attending anything because he worked a lot of Sundays. But he assured me that he’d do whatever made me happy J (He still does, by the way…)

As our adult life took hold, and life wasn’t just “which restaurant should we go to tonight?” all of those early church experiences served to create my roots – a place to travel back to in my mind. When my son was born missing part of his left arm, and my pastor suggested that God may have a “plan for a greater good,” I could reflect back on all of those early Biblical examples and know that surely if God worked in people’s lives 10,000 years ago, He certainly continues to work in them now. Believe me when I say that I took my pastor’s thought and clung to it.

I feel I have a personal relationship with my almighty Creator. He knew me before I was born. We chat! I praise Him, of course (because He’s AWEsome), but I also question Him – all the time – and then I listen and watch for His answers in my life. And through the years I have experienced such direct answers to some of my prayers that it literally gives me chills. They come from crazy places sometimes too: An unexpected phone call that provides the exact answer I was seeking; a song comes on the radio that speaks to the exact issue that’s on my mind; a friend gives a gift that fits a situation perfectly; right person, right place right time – I could go on and on.

Today is Good Friday, Sunday is Easter. Suffice to say I 100% believe everything about it. I’ve lived through what I’ve lived through, I’ve seen and heard what I’ve seen and heard. No one can take away the outcomes (and ongoing yet-to-be-seen outcomes) I’ve experienced. I give the credit where credit is due!

So… YES faith, YES seriously… NO fairy tales, NO coincidences…

Sure, I was raised to go to church. I was raised to love God. Some people don’t have that experience - everyone’s at a different place in life. But that’s kind of great because we can all share our combined experiences and learn from each other. But my hope is that for those who negatively question, well, could you at least think about it…?  

 …because then He says, “…be still and know that I am God…”

Have a Blessed Easter!