Category Archives: Legacy

The Connection Project

I thought it was about time to dust off the old blog and once again share my thoughts on everything, or at least on some things. When I started this blog nearly 7 years ago I was looking for an outlet. A way to share my thoughts and ideas. It became a bit of a journal of parenting. And then the kids got older, life got crazier (I didn’t think it could) and I embarked on a new role with a new organization. I decided to put the blog in storage for a while. I have been hesitant to put much out there knowing that, whether I intend it to or not, what I write becomes a reflection on the organization I work for. And I believe the world, and specifically the internet, has changed a lot in the last three years. It is a more divisive, angry place.

I also know that writing is cathartic for me. It allows me to process what is happening around me and helps me to clarify my views. I could write and keep it to myself. Or I could share it and hope it helps someone else to process the world as well. Not to come to the same conclusions or opinions, but to think things through in a slightly different way. The title of the blog Considering the Options reflects my view on life, we always have options. Choices in how we react, respond or behave. So today, I am launching a series I hope will make an impact. I hope this will help those who know me or follow my blog to process the world around them. As I mentioned, these are my thoughts, my opinions. They are not the views of the people I work with or for, or the organizations of which I am a part. They are mine.

The Connection Project – Why?

I am lucky enough to have friends who see the world through very different filters than I. And I have very passionate friends. I have young friends, those the same age as my kids and friends who are enjoying the proverbial golden years. Friends from small towns and big cities, those who live close to where they grew up and those who live (or have lived) halfway around the world. I have friends who have chosen not to have children, and who are not able to have kids. Those who have adopted and fostered to adopt. Friends who gave birth to one and to many. Friends with children who look just like them and with children who are a different ethnicity.

I have friends who have been married 50 plus years and who are newlyweds. And I have friends who never went down that path. I have gay friends and straight friends and some who are bisexual. I have friends who are doctors and lawyers and such (did you just sing that in your head like I did?). And I have friends who dropped out of school. I have friends who are farmers and railroaders, teachers and clergy.

What’s my point?

When you try to, you can categorize people in a million different ways. You can label them, assign them a trait. You can put them in a box based on that thing, that one piece of them you’ve chosen to identify.

Many of these friends have expressed a desire to live in a more civil and compassionate world. Friends are concerned to varying degrees – from genuinely concerned to obsessively frightened. People are fearful of “what the world is coming to.” What kind of world our children and grandchildren will grow up in. People are certain the world is going to hell in a handbasket so to speak. I think every generation has had that feeling to some degree, but I do believe it is different today.

So what can we do about it? How do we fix this world that’s falling apart? I am just one person and the problem is so big.

I think the answer lies in connection. It lies in individual relationships. People connecting, one by one, with those around them. So today I am beginning a journey. A journey to share ideas for making this world a more palatable place. A place I will be excited to have my grandchildren live.

I would love company on this journey! If you are brave enough to take a hard look at your role in this handbasket headed for hell:).

This week’s assignment: Spend time thinking about all the ways you categorized the people around you. Be cognizant of when you put someone in a box; make assumptions about them based on one aspect of their life or personality. Recognize when you dismiss someone’s thoughts, opinions or views because of who you believe they are.

Feel free to comment here and share your experience. I would love to hear how it goes this week!

 

 

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Filed under Intention, Legacy, Lifestyle

On the Precipice

There are times in your life when you realize, you are at a junction, a turning point. When life is about to change in big and irreversible ways. There is a certain sense that washes over you and makes you take pause and think deeply.

The first time I remember this happening was when I got engaged. I was so excited, and yet realized life would never be the same. It was a good change and I was most definitely happy. But the truth was, life would change. That in between time of anticipation is rather daunting.

The same thing happened as we neared the end of our first pregnancy. And our second. And our third. Life was about to change drastically. All joyous and happy changes, but yet a touch of mourning for the life that you are leaving behind. The freedom you had before children giving way to the joy of watching all their firsts. Wondering how you could possibly love another child as much as you do the first. (It is possible!) Never regret, but reflection, and a bit of sadness.

Like the time between getting a contract on a house and closing. The in between can be brutal. The anticipation of what’s to come, the hint of second guessing choices, the excitement of the change.

Then there is taking the last kid to college. All the same emotions, the fears, the anticipation, the reminiscing, the hope, the guilt, the confidence. As one of my favorite authors, Jen Hatmaker would say, “we have all the feels here” and then some. I find it interesting that an event can be so contradictory, so emotion filled. But it seems to be a theme in life and growth.

There is much to look forward to – I have started my Empty Nest Year 1 Bucket List. I can’t wait to do all the things on that list. (I might even add -Get back to blogging – to that list!) Things we have put off doing for years or just weren’t an option when the kids were home. We have plans to attend lots of College marching band performances (aka football games). We have a trip planned and are working on a girls weekend, and couples weekend away with friends. It is exciting and freeing and going to be so much fun! We’ve put in a lot of hard work to get here. We did our parenting job and so far it appears we did a decent job. (The proof of good parenting is not immediate- it’s really a bit of a crap shoot. You do what you think is right and years later get glimpses of what worked and what missed the mark or was completely forgotten.) This is our time. Our chance to remember who we were as a couple. Way back in the day. And figure out who we are together today, sans kids. It is good!

And yet there is the hint of melancholy, the tear just about to fall. It has been 22 years since we have lived alone together. By far, most of our adult lives we have had these men in our home. We loved the noise, the chaos, the tension and laughter. We were good as a family, together, every day. I’m going to miss those interactions. I will miss hearing about their day, knowing their schedules and daily activities. Hearing about who they are spending their days with. It is right and good. They are supposed to leave home. I get that. They will be fine. We will be fine. I will be fine. But this is another one of those moments when I stand on the precipice of change. Change I asked for (‘cause who wants their kids to live at home forever?!), but change none the less.

Tomorrow will be a sad day. And a happy day. I will cry. Maybe a lot. And I will laugh, definitely  a lot. I think it is the right thing to do to honor all those feelings. To embrace the sadness and let the tears roll. To laugh together and make our own plans to fill the free time we are about to have. And hey, we have kittens so that’s almost the same, right?

Post Script: After I wrote this, I got to thinking about when Oldest Son left for college. I remember sobbing as I wrote. It was so hard. I went back and read the post. Made me tear up again and laugh too. Second Son’s departure was indeed as painful or more so than Oldest. I just couldn’t write during that time. I can tell you in a couple of days if Youngest Son’s truly was easier or not.
What I hadn’t even contemplated when writing that post, was having Oldest Son get married! A whole other range of emotions! (And, yes, I like her a lot:)!)
Yes, I deserve some kind of grace for having this much change in less than a month! And wine. I deserve wine!

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Filed under Family, Goals, Intention, Legacy, mom, Parenting, Senior Year

Ramblings on Refugees

I’m challenged by the Syrian refugee issue. I don’t know the right answer. On one hand, I feel compassionate to people who live in a horrible place, made that way by war. I don’t believe people deserve to live that way and I don’t believe the majority of them have the power or capacity to change their country/region. As a human and a person of faith, I am called to help, to be compassionate and caring.

On the other hand, as a thinking person living in a free country with a culture vastly different from where this war is taking place, I feel cautious. We have seen many examples of the hate manifested in attacks on innocent people. People who did nothing to deserve it. I feel the need to protect my family, my home and my way of life. I think that’s fair on my part.

How then do I reconcile the two? How does one show compassion for hurting people and at the same time provide safety and security for their own family? I really would like to hear how others have resolved this conflict personally.

My thoughts – First, I think you have to identify if it’s a real threat. Is it the kind of “perceived threat” we feel when we see someone who looks different from us? Or the real threat of someone who likely intends to do harm? I think in this case it’s both. There are desperate people who need help. They need the basics of food, shelter and safety. And among them there are people who are evil. People who will use our compassion against us. People who will give up their own lives to hurt us. Both are real.

It seems this issue is like every other; there are only extremes. My feed is filled with calls to reject all refugees or risk death, to close the borders quickly. And with claims of willingness to open their own homes to refugees, to let them all come. Either you believe the refugees are a threat which makes you a heartless, cruel Christian who picks and chooses when to follow your faith. Or you think we should open the doors wide and welcome everyone in which makes you naïve and willing to risk the freedoms our forefathers fought to gain. People who are against bringing refugees to this country forget what our ancestors went through to get here. People willing to bring refugees to this country forget the danger and evil that exist in the world. There is no in between.

Is bringing refugees to our home, our country the only way to help them? Is there another solution that is somewhere in between? It seems like if we take a breath, step back a moment, we can come up with a solution that cares for those in need and maintains some level of security for this country. (Ya, I know, I’m living in a fantasy world to think anywhere is safe!) At the very least is there a place for conversation without name calling? Is there a place for an intelligent, thoughtful conversation without resorting to hyperbole and extremism? Can we articulate our ideas and opinions with our own words rather than an exaggerated meme? Is it possible to hear someone else’s thoughts and opinions and validate their concerns? Is it so risky to acknowledge that you can understand where someone else is coming from? Or must we shut down and label those who might see the world differently? Is there a place for a real conversation?

I don’t know if that exists anymore.

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Filed under Faith, Intention, Legacy, The State of Affairs

New

Happy New Year! It is 2015 – a brand spanking new year!

All clean and crisp with no dings or scratches.

Yet.

Like a new notebook, I love a new year. And this year, I am especially excited to turn the virtual calendar page. 2014 will be remembered as one of the toughest yet. It was a year full of emotions; excitement, pride, fear, apprehension, relief, and extreme sadness. I felt emotions at a depth I don’t think I have before. And many in such a short span of time. I never envisioned my strongest grief coming in the midst of huge milestones for my children. But the world did not stop for us. It never does when someone is deep in grief. It kept spinning seemingly faster and faster. It is ironic, the way really significant moments can be eclipsed by the momentous things.

The end of 2013 we said goodbye to our family pet Gracie after 10 years and I said goodbye to a very comfortable job of nearly 7 years.  At the same time Hubby changed positions at his company and move to a much less stressful position, I took the helm at a new organization going through huge transition. We were prepared for changes in the year ahead.

We had no idea.

Change is hard. Good or bad causes, wanted or unwanted, it’s always challenging.

Losing my dad, sending our Middle Son off to a summer internship and then college, it was all hard. It was a season of loss.

But I would be remiss if I didn’t also highlight the beautiful, gracious and inspired things that happened as well.

I gained understanding I didn’t know I was missing. I developed a much more personal understanding of loss and have found myself in a position to support others in their grief. I would not have had that understanding had I not experienced that loss.

I stumbled onto a class that provided me a network of colleagues to learn and grow from, and where I am encouraged in my professional endeavors.

I have seen my boys each grow up, becoming more compassionate and more responsible for themselves. They have stepped in to fill gaps left by my grief, they have taken charge of their own futures in made plans and decisions to move forward. It is so encouraging to see the plans they are making.

I have developed deep friendships. Women with whom I can share the ugly parts of me and not be judged. Priceless.

Life is scary, but I am stronger than I thought. I can survive. And yet, I am fragile. I am deserving of the tenderest of care and compassion.

I have learned that life is fragile. That nothing is forever. It is up to me to make right with people and with myself. I can’t control when my time comes, but I can know that I have no regrets. Nothing left unsaid.

And I still know how to write. Thought maybe I forgot that:).

Cheers to a new year! Full of new opportunities, adventures, challenges and I’m sure sadness and disappointment.

Regardless, I’m looking forward to New!

 

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Filed under Legacy

Not a Dreamer After All

I used to fancy myself a dreamer. A possibility thinker. I remember the ambitions I had as a teen. I was going to move away, to bigger and better things. Blaze my own trail and leave a lasting mark on the world. Maybe international business? Live abroad? The skies were wide open and the possibilities were endless.
Somewhere along the way, my world shrunk. The ideal became a little less lofty and I started to think more about what is attainable. I began thinking in terms of what was reasonable and realistic. Sort of the “Let’s face it you’re never going to…” mentality.
Somewhere along the way between the world-is-your-oyster high school years and the middle-aged, near-empty-nester year, I became a realist.
Maybe it was becoming a parent, or buying a house or some other step of adulthood that changed me. But it’s ok. For me. It’s ok to think practically, to be realistic about the future.
However, I think it does my kids a disservice when I can’t embrace their dreams. When I burst their bubbles with my “realistic” views on life. It limits them. It squelches their creativity and instills doubt.
In my effort to paint an honest picture of life, to give them a realistic perspective on what the grown up world is like, I take away the option to dream. The freedom to dream the big, hairy, audacious dreams. The ones that scare the bejeebers out of you and excite you at the same time.
I have only recently come to realize this about myself. I have a dear friend who lets her kids dream. In fact she supports their dreams. And prays for their dreams. Even the big, unrealistic, pie-in-the-sky dreams! I admire that. And yet I don’t do it.
It’s hard to shut off the logical, ordered, down-to-earth, focus-on-what-is-realistic part of my brain and engage the dreamer again.
We all need to dream! Especially young people. There is a great, big, world out there and the ability to envision yourself changing it is priceless. Without the belief that you can make your dreams come true, what do you have? What pushes you, drives you and makes you revise that idea/paper/design one more time? What makes you reach a tiny bit farther, try that move one more time, reach out to one more person?
We must be able to dream.
We must be able to create and nurture our own dreams without doubt standing behind us whispering in our ear.
I don’t want to be the doubt for my kids. I want to be the voice in their head that says, “If this is what I really want, I’m going to make it happen!”
So go, my sons, dream really big dreams! Imagine, what if…! Put your heart into your dreams, work your 10,000 hours! Become the expert you want to be!
I believe in you!

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Filed under Advice, Family, Goals, Legacy, Parenting

Memories of Dad

Thinking of Dad so much. Here are the words I shared at his funeral. Thankful I did it and thankful I captured my thoughts at the time. Writing is so cathartic for me.

The last time I stood here with my dad was 23 years ago tomorrow when he walked me down this aisle to give me away as I married my husband Dan. I find comfort in saying goodbye to Dad in this place that holds so many good memories for all of us.
I’ve always cringed at eulogies or speakers who get up at a funeral and wax poetic about their perfect loved one. It always leaves me wondering about their weird habits or strange quirks. I promised myself that given the opportunity, I would tell the truth. Just like dad. He didn’t really sugar coat things. You always knew where you stood with Dad.
So here it is.
I have an amazing Dad. But he was a unique guy.
He has longer finger nails than any woman I know. I didn’t realize how odd it was until friends started asking. It always made me chuckle a bit when someone would say, “um…your dad has really long finger nails…”. Yup, he does. And wouldn’t you know it, I did not inherit them!
Dad liked a lot of strange foods. Who remembers being offered pickled herring? Nasty stuff and he loved it. And my sweet, generous mom stifled her gag reflex many times to make him beef or chicken liver.
I was a teenager before I found out not everyone had orange juice with their pizza. But we did. And when we have mom’s amazing cinnamon rolls, dad dunks them in his orange juice. And so does Scott.
But I think the strangest might be the pickled beef heart. According to my unofficial research, we may be the only family in the world that ate it!
Dad also came up with some crazy inventions. Like the side by side bicycle so a blind person could ride a bike. I know some of you looked at his inventions and thought, what the heck?
But what I saw in those was creativity and optimism and possibilities and potential. That’s what my dad was really about. Seeing a problem and immediately dreaming up a solution. Working through all the scenarios in his head and developing a way to make something work.
He had hope. He believed in potential and had the ability to imagine impossible things, especially when it comes to designing. Like a ramp for the scooter, a 3 stall garage or a theater in the church. He always had an idea in the hopper. And he believed in his ability to make it happen.
Anyone who knew Dad knew he had a generous spirit. Dad was a helper. From tools to trailers – dad would loan whatever he had to someone in need. And he was generous with his skills, talents and expertise as well. Just looking around the church you can see the physical impact he left on this congregation.
I will miss picking up the phone to describe the sound the car is making and get his thoughts on what might be wrong. I will miss being able to call him when I’m lost and have him point me home. But I am at peace knowing his body is now whole. And I believe he is telling a story to my uncles as they all sit around a workshop or piece of machinery.
Dad loved my mom fiercely. From the days when he pursued her as a teenager through the really lean times and the good times. He loved her until the end, always taking care of her.
I see my dad in each of my brothers. In Doug’s quiet contemplation with the wheels always turning, in Phil’s take care of business take-charge attitude that comes when something just has to get done and in Scott’s honoring of our past, respect for where we have come from and how we got to where we are.
Today, I can’t help but think what an amazing witness my dad gave to everyone he met. Micah 6:8 says …And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.
Well done Dad.
A life well lived.

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Filed under Family, Legacy, Parenting, Thankful

Anything But Content

I feel like my heart is raw. Like a wound that keeps getting torn open, again and again. There is no time to heal. There is no balm for my soul.
It is as though I’m running on a sandy beach, feet sinking deep into the warm sand making each step a little harder than the last. I know I need to keep going, but it’s so difficult.

I want to stop the world, stop all the change in my life, to regroup, to get my bearings again. I want to mourn and wallow, and feel sorry for myself. I want to cry until there are no more tears. And some days I do. But the next day they return, flowing strong and steady.

I’m going through the motions, but feel like my world is spinning out of control on the inside. Like the merry-go-round that I used to ride as a kid. The one that terrified me and made me feel ill. The one that spun and spun and left me puking in the grass.

I’m trying to be present. To be focused on the things that are big in my kids lives. The changes and challenges they face. I’m trying to be the mom they need me to be. But it’s so very hard.

I don’t want to take care of anyone else right now. I don’t want to problem solve with them or be their shoulder to cry on. I want my Dad back. I want to remember him, to think about the stories he told, to hear his voice again. I want him to not be gone. And I’m having a hard time focusing on anything else.

I guess I’m just shocked at how hard it is. I didn’t know it would be like this.

It has only been a few weeks. But life has gone on at breakneck speed. Work keeps happening, the house needs to be cleaned, the bills need to be paid the pictures need editing. There are college orientations and teenage transitions and all kinds of life still happening.

It all just keeps going. And I try to hide the tears when they come at work. I try to focus on my health and Bible study. I try to move forward. And yet I just want to cry.

A lot.

I find myself thinking of all the people who have gone through this before me. The people who seemed to keep going like their world hadn’t fallen apart when I know it had. They kept it together. I know they had to be hurting just like me, but they made it through. They went through the motions. They put one foot in front of the other and kept going. And I had no idea how hard it must have been.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I didn’t know what you were going through. I’m sorry I didn’t remember those things that would bring back the tears. I just didn’t know.

I am thankful to those who have been where I am today. Thankful for their understanding; for their notes and cards and texts.

I’m grateful I’m not going through this alone.

But most of all I’m thankful that I know I will see him again. That I believe life isn’t over at death. I believe in heaven and the afterlife. I am thankful that despite missing him terribly, I know that I will see him again. And that helps. It doesn’t take away the pain, but it gives me hope.

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Filed under Faith, Family, Legacy, Thankful