Stomper or Swabby?

Yesterday we had a nearly perfect day. The weather was ideal for just sitting on the grass, enjoying wine and looking out over the valley, so we headed to the Willamette Valley Vineyards for the annual grape stomping competition. Along with the wine tasting we wanted to show our visiting family members some of the sights. What a surprise to also find great food, good music and a wide variety of fun people.


When the opportunity arose to actually enter the grape stomping competition Caroline's face lit up. "Mom, can we do it!" I said, "sure." The waiting list was quite long and I never thought we would actually get in. But we found ourselves called forward to stomp in the 3 o'clock heat.
Caroline decided to take on the roll of the stomper. The rules are to stomp for 3 full minutes without touching the sides of the barrell. The stomper is allowed to steady their self on the shoulders of the swabby. Since Caroline was the stomper, this made me the swabby. My roll was to make sure the drain hole did not get plugged and the grape juices flowed steady into the jug.

When time was called we filled a jug & a half of grape juice & pulp!



The competition was fun and fierce! Each team was striving to win the coveted prize - a trip for two to sunny California for the National competition and 2006 Grape Stomping Championship Title.

Being first timers, I never dreamt we'd be in the running, but it was close.
Two, dare I say gentlemen, experienced stompers beat us out of the semi-finals by 6 ounces. They held the record for the heats stomped on Sunday and were going on to face the winners of the Saturday heats. We didn't stick around for the finals so we don't know how close we were to winning, but we went home feeling proud of our effort and we sure did have fun!

Another little piece...

Well, they came yesterday. My new Oregon license plates arrived in the mail, the last of the vehicles to receive their new tags. This was just another little piece of the transition process. Gone are the DWNTWN Nebraska plates.



Now I am officially an Oregonian. I have the drivers license, the new tags and all I have left to do is register to vote. I have found the Oregon drivers to be incredibly gracious and courteous. I wonder how much of that was due to my out-of-state plates.




Now when I find myself in the wrong lane and need over at the last minute will people still let me in? Were they just being nice to the out-of-towner? I guess I will find out soon enough.

I am glad to have had the "I'm not from here" excuse the past few months as I have learned to negotiate a bigger city and the many unfamiliar winding streets and hills of Salem.

The difference a year makes

This time last year I found myself traveling a lot. I was swamped with arranging child care at home and coverage at work in the midst of classes and schedules filling up fast for both my kids and the youth I worked with so that I could go with my husband.






We went to Chicago








and traveled to Oregon




This year I find myself a stay at home mom.
For the first time in years, we eat home cooked meals nearly every night, my house is relatively clean, and the laundry is done. I have started two quilts and nearly finished one, reupohlstered two chairs, unboxed a plethera of belongings, as well as pulled out my art supplies, done some drawing and painting, volunteered a few times at Habitat for Humanity, and I have taken nearly two thousand digital photos all in the past few months. This is my attempt to stave off boredom.

Reflecting back on the past year I find that I am beginning to adjust. I don't think I have adjusted yet, but I am adjusting.

I came across some old photos of my former office while cleaning out the computer files. It was fun to think back to the experiences I had, the people I met, the wonderful staff I worked with. But I also thought about the struggles of working in ministry, the lack of catechists, dealing with the disgruntled parents and realized that there are some advantages to not working right now.


In looking back on where I have been in the past year I am better able to get some perspective on things. Perspective on work, on my children, on relationships, a different perspective on my life.

I don't have a clue what life will look like a year from now when I reflect back on it, but I hope that I still find that we are all in good health, loved by family and friends, that I am a grandma to a new grandchild (hopefully just one grandchild) and that perhaps I have found the time and money to go skydiving!

Fallen pride

I fell today. I fell down a couple of concrete steps, tore my jeans, skinned my knee, jammed my shoulder and wounded my pride.

Why is it so embarrassing to fall? Why is it when you fall down a couple of steps in an area with lots of business people and professional types you feel like such a loser? I wanted to just sit on my behind for a minute before picking myself up but instead hopped up quickly as if nothing happened hoping no one noticed.
And while I didn't hear anyone laughing hysterically at my clumsiness, there was no one to ask if I was okay either.

As I sit here still bothered by the pain in my swollen knee and aching shoulder, I wonder if I will tell my husband when he gets home later. Or will my wounded pride and embarrassed feeling keep this hidden inside. I also wonder if I tell him will he be the one to laugh or will he ask me if I am okay?

Then there is that quirky side of me that I get from my mom and is perpetuated by my husband that wonders ....

Was this some kind of sign or is there some hidden message in my clumsy, uncoordinated, inability to handle two simple concrete steps?

You see, I was leaving the parish office of St. Joseph's Church after picking up a job application. The parish is in need of a youth ministry coordinator for high school and middle school youth. A position that I know something about. Yet the one time I attended this parish it didn't seem to be my preference for a place to worship. So I am not sure how serious I am about this job opening. But I wanted more information.

After gathering the necessary paperwork, I shut the outer door and turned to close the iron gate that locked the parish staff securely in their office. I missed the first step, and fell.

Seeing this story retold here in the written page, I am no longering wondering, I am pretty sure my husband would laugh! He would prefer I not be employed anyway. And I am fairly certain he would consider this a sign from above that I shouldn't submit my application and resume'. :-)
Yes he would be laughing, and THEN he would ask me if I was okay.

I don't really see signs and get messages the way my mom does or the way my husband does. It is different for me.

I will admit that this incident will stick with me for a while, for at least as long as the pain does!

Learning...

We survived the first week of school for the kids. And have successfully ushered them off to begin their second week.

We have all experienced a roller coaster of emotions and feelings as supplies were purchased, new book bags were filled, clothes were laid out and the alarm clock began ringing at an inhumane early hour of the morning. The morning routine is still being experimented with in the effort to find the quickest route to and from 3 different schools in a city I am not familiar with yet.

The first couple of days were rocky for Alex and Caroline especially. But by Friday things were looking up.
Laura and Jacquie seem to be getting along better than the older ones, but I expected that.


Laura came home the first day with, "4 new friends already!"

Jacquie is doing okay but says, "I feel so Small! 8th Graders are mean."


Caroline for two days said, "I didn't talk to a single person. I don't know anyone."
And Alex said, "It was weird to be at an assembly and not know any of the school cheers, so I just sat there."

Alex at an all school assembly just sitting there? .....
Perhaps a good thing since it could keep him out of trouble, but still a little bit sad for me to hear.
All the kids are doing their best to adjust and so am I.

Salem has a number of Habitat for Humanity build sites and this year they have a home that is primarily being built by youth. I got an e-mail the other day asking if I would be interested in helping lead the youth on the build site on Saturdays. I'm not sure Jeff and the kids want me to be gone every Saturday, but I am exploring this to see what is involved.

So for the time being we are all learning. Learning to adjust, learning to make new friends, learning and listening for where we are being called.

Hummingbird

Shortly after I arrived here in Oregon we had a visit from our dear friends, Nick & Marsha. They live in the Seattle area and for many years in spite of the distance that separated us have remained close friends. They are such a gift in our lives. The long weekend that they were here they helped us unpack, build shelves, get settled, and of course take time to just sit and relax. Marsha wanted this new place to feel more homey for me and purchased flowers for my empty pots and bought a lovely hanging basket and hook for the porch.

What they don't know is they also gave us the gift of hummingbirds.

Every day between 9:30 and 10:00am we have a hummingbird that visits my hanging basket and the flowers on the porch. Today there was a pair of hummingbirds. I don't know what kind of plant is in the hanging basket. I had never seen one like it before in Kansas or Nebraska. Even though I don't know what it is called, I do know it does not like heat. Since Oregon is having a warmer summer than usual, I have worked hard to keep this plant alive. Partly because it is a symbol of the friendship we have with Nick and Marsha and partly because of the hummingbirds that enjoy it.

My plant isn't as full and as beautiful as it was when Marsha first bought it for me, but it is still a great gift to me and to the hummingbirds.

The Competitive Spirit

Competition: the act of competing; rivalry for supremacy, a prize.


I have just attempted to settle a Monopoly war between the girls. The yelling and crying could be heard throughout the house and most likely throughout the neighborhood!

The competitive spirit runs strong in our children and often is the cause of arguments and fights. I don't think any of our kids are afraid to take on a fight nor are they willing to back down once they are in the midst one.

I think they get this from their father who grew up in a very competitive family. If his family were to have a philosophy it would be, "if you are going to play, then play to win." It doesn't matter whether it is a card game, board game or general topics for discussion. I think they often take this philosophy to the extreme. In fact, when my husband was a young teen he even wrote to Milton Bradley for clarification on a Monopoly ruling that was the source of an argument he was having with his older sister. Of course, he was in the right and couldn't wait to point this out to her.

I, on the other hand, grew up in a family that had a vastly different philosophy. I would say it was more along the lines of, "You better play to have fun, and if it isn't fun for one then it isn't fun for anyone." I, myself, am non-confrontational and not very competitive. With one exception.... when I am playing against my husband.

My husband claims I turn everything with him into a competition. I don't understand this about myself. Why does it bother me to lose to the one I love? Why do I do react this way only with him? I don't have any answers.

So I have to admit the competitive spirit within our children must come from both of us, their parents.

But I think it is my job to help them strike a balance between the competitive drive to win and the desire to play for fun making sure everyone is having a good time.

After all, if it is just a game, shouldn't it be Fun?

26 years

Celebrating 26 years of marriage!

Sometimes it feels like yesterday and at other times I am very aware of each and every moment as if time has passed in slow motion.

We are blessed by 8 wonderful children, loving families, many good friends and so many good memories.

I am anxious to see what the next 26 years have in store for us!

Letting Go

I am feeling sad today and I just need someplace to share my feelings.





Sundays seem to be the most difficult day of the week for me.
Being at Mass in a strange church, not knowing anyone, is such stark contrast from where I was before I came here.
I keep telling myself it takes time. But in the meanwhile it just hurts.
I think about getting involved, volunteering, or something. But I'm not sure it would help.
I guess I am simply having trouble letting go.
I look forward to Mondays and all the other days of the weeks, when I don't wake up with the reminder of all that I left behind.
Tomorrow will be better.

Gender Roles

I grew up the second of seven siblings. There was always work to be done at our house. And my recollection is that we all pitched in to get things done. Saturday mornings the family was up early and we were presented with the list of chores to be done before we could play. There was no sleeping in for any of us.

Work inside or work outside, the choice was mine, but everyone was to work. With seven of us there was always someone who opted for the inside work. My older sister opted for the controlled environment of the inside because she liked the familiar, the certainty of the routine of folding laundry, ironing, cooking, and cleaning windows. I always went for the outside work; mowing, trimming, pulling weeds, cleaning the bar-b-que grill, changing the oil in the car, pouring concrete for the new deck, cleaning out the gutters, whatever the project was for the weekend. It didn't matter so much to me what the job was as long as I could be outside, doing something different each weekend, and working along side my dad.

I loved working with dad. I always felt confident with dad, like I could do anything I put my mind to. I felt determined and tenacious. It was never an issue of whether it was a man's job or a woman's work with dad. It was simply about finding a way to get it done. In the winter the weather took us inside more often than I would have liked. The household tasks were shared by everyone. I watched my dad fold laundry, vacuum, cook and clean right along with the rest of us. He makes the best onion parmesan bread! There were little if any specific gender roles defined between my parents. Us kids, sons and daughters alike, were taught to cook and mow, we were taught to hammer and sew. And I assumed this was how everyone else was raised.

I am trying to raise my children the same way. My daughters are taught how to change their own tires and my sons are taught to sew on a button. They all know how to cook, although some are better than others. Taking out the trash is everyone's responsibilty, and not reserved for just the guys, and same with the yard work. And they all know how to do their own laundry.

For the four months that my husband and I lived in separate states he did his own laundry. He is very competent. He even went to a laundry-mat to do this. And when we bought our new home, he purchased a wonderful new set of energy efficient washer and dryer to go in the new laundry room. When we all moved and joined him, he taught us how the new appliances worked. I was excited he would be sharing in the household chores with the rest of us. Or so I thought.

It is more evident to me now that although I grew up in a home with very blurred gender roles, my husband didn't. Not only would his father not do his own laundry, his mother would never allow her husband to do the laundry. And it would seem that the way we are raised, the nurture part of our person is very difficult to change.

So I had better stop here and go put my husbands clothes in the dryer.

Celebrating Birthdays

In the past ten days we have had two family birthdays to celebrate. We have always celebrated birthdays with just us, just family. On a few occasions perhaps friends or our parish priest would join us, or once in a while extended family were in town, but for the most part only our immediate family made the guest list.

Now we are in Oregon. I never thought much about how things would be different in terms of birthday celebrations. After all, we never invited a lot of people. However this past month brought two Birthdays, and two very different celebrations.

I imagine most people think of a family of seven as a large family, but to us it feels small. With Lindsey away, we only numbered six. Six of us gathered around a homemade cake to sing happy birthday and watch Alex blow out all 15 candles. As much as we tried to be enthusiastic and sing with our best voices, it seemed to lack something more than the correct pitch or tone.



Eight days later we gathered around a cake and prepared to sing and watch Laura blow out her nine candles. It took several attempts, but she accomplished her task and is waiting to see if her wish comes true.




Same kitchen, same type of cake, similar candles, yet vastly different celebrations. This time we numbered ten! Lindsey was back and in addition Brad, Aimee and Mike flew in from Nebraska. I have always been surrounded by family. And as chaotic as life can be in a large household, it is a wonderful way to celebrate.

We all went to 11:00 Mass on Sunday and nearly filled the pew. Having so many of us there together felt familiar, it felt more like home, yet it also left me with an emptiness. An empty feeling from knowing our family time wasn't complete without Melissa and Justin. An emptiness knowing that this was only temporary and in a few days we would be back to a family of 7.

I don't know how to adjust to this new life. I don't suppose there is anyway to fill the hole that comes from being separated from my children. And even if I could fill the hole, or fill the emptiness I feel, I don't think I would. The emptiness, the sadness, the loss I feel also makes me incredibly aware of how much I love them. It makes me appreciate all the more how they have grown to be such wonderful young adults and how proud I am to call them my children.

I suppose this is one of those situations where people would tell me, "give it time, it will get better" and I suppose that is true. In time we will adjust to our smaller family size and we will need to continue to adjust as more children leave and go to live their own lives, But I hope that I always feel just enough emptiness to know how full and rich my life is because of family.

Getting Creative for a cause

In between the moments of chaos and moments of boredom I have been trying to get the creative juices flowing again. Whatever it is that flows within me to bring out my creative side seems a bit dry or stagnant lately. I have been called on for the third time now to create a quilt for a friend who has cancer. ( I think I mentioned this in an earlier blog, or maybe I didn't, but since this blog is just for me I guess it doesn't matter. )
The only perameters and suggestions were something red and hearts might be good.

The first quilt I designed and helped sew was for Jody. After all her hair fell out she was sharing with a number of us how odd it felt to have her head stick to the back of the vinyl recliner in the Chemo room where she was spending so much of her time. None of us would have thought about this before. Why would we? Because of Jody's openness with us and her willingness to share her experience of cancer treatment, Barb and I began a quilt for her, Rosebuds for Recovery. As more friends heard of our project we had more offers to help with the handstitching, even those who had never sewed before were taught enough to put in a few stitches. In the end it was not a perfectly handmade quilt, but it was a quilt handmade with love in every sense of the word. Jody's quilt has since been shared with other women who have had need for it during Chomo treatments.

A few years after we made Rosebuds for Recovery we found out Ron had cancer. It was obvious to all of us that at nearly 6 foot 5 inches that Ron would need his own quilt and it would need to reflect his wonderful personality and strong nature. This time all of us, including Jody, were involved in the assembly and quilting of Ron's quilt. And I had more help in the design process as well. It was a beautiful quilt filled with vibrant colors that spaned the spectrum of the rainbow.



Ron lost his battle with cancer not too many months after we finished his quilt. My feelings were mixed at seeing it draped over his coffin at the funeral. A quilt is a symbol for warmth and comfort and seeing it over a cold, hard coffin was difficult to wrap my mind around. Yet in some way it felt so appropriate. It was as if each small piece of fabric blended together making one splendid quilt was a symbol for how we all came together because of Ron's friendship. What better image to portray what we all felt in the church at his funeral than the Quilt of Many Colors? All our lives had been touched by Ron, and we were all there collectively to celebrate his life and mourn our loss.

Part of the awesome spirit of the former quilts was the relationships that were deepened through the quilt-making process. Much of that is lost this time since I am now in Oregon and everyone else is back in Nebraska. But, I need to give my head, my heart, and my creativity to this quilt for Julie. I want her to have her own quilt so that Jody's can be passed on to someone else. I want her to know that we care as much for her as we do for Jody and Ron. I know she will recognize many of the same fabrics since she has helped us in the past, and I hope this holds special meaning for her. Time is of utmost importance and I hope in the future Julie is around to share this quilt with others like Jody.

Finding My Spirit

I have always thought of myself as an upbeat, positive person. I have always involved myself in many forms of ministry, through home, through work, through family, and even through play.
For the most part, I see life as a gift and blessing and that holds true for our new surroundings.
I am beginning my fifth week in this new place. There are so many great things about living in Salem. We are only 60 minutes from the beach, 60 minutes from a major city with lots of activities, and 60 minutes from the mountains. The town itself has a great parks system and there are some wonderful activities to participate in every day. This is a beautiful place to live and things are going well. We have a great house, the kids are adjusting, my husband loves his job, my sister is thrilled to have family in the area... the list of blessings goes on and on.

So why can't I see the gift for me in this move?
Why do I feel sad or bored most of the time? It was only four months ago that I would have loved to be at home with no schedule or activites to prevent me from doing whatever I chose to do that day. Why am I having such a hard time with all of this? Why do I feel as if I am slipping into a void?

I've been trying to understand this change in myself. I want to feel whole again and not like I do today, torn apart, as if a huge part of me is missing. But I suppose that is the problem.... a huge part of me is missing. A part of my spirit is gone. I don't think it is gone forever. I think it is just gone for a while; gone, missing, misplaced, as if my spirit is not yet unboxed after the move.


A couple of months ago I shared with a good friend my fear of leaving my minstry and leaving my friends. I knew this was going to be difficult. It already felt painful to thinking about it. I shared my feelings and fears of not knowing how to let go. How does one leave something so integral to ones spirit? His words weren't easy to hear, but they were the words I needed to hear.

He told me, "It's not about you! Just go! Your spirit will find you."

His words helped me break away and make the move, but now that I am here it still feels as if my spirit is what is packed away in a box somewhere that I haven't opened yet. I don't feel whole without it and I am falling away, falling down, just falling. I don't know what to do. Where do I look? Or am I supposed to be patient and let my spirit find me again?


All I am left with are questions that no one can answer, a little bit of trust that I will be reunited with my spirit, and a lifeline of hope that there is something out there for me.

They say change is good....

They say change is good. They say change is difficult. They say change is inevitable. I think it is safe to say that even though I don't know who "they" are, I have found these three statements about change to be true for me.

I have eight children. It doesn't seem that long ago that all ten of us lived under one roof as a family. One family living, sharing, fighting, loving, annoying, and laughing together. However when I think about how long ago it has been since we shared the same home I realize that it has been seven years now. Seven years! When did all this time pass and how did it pass by without me knowing it? Four of our eight children have graduated high school and are on their own life's journey.
And in many ways my own life journey has taken a new turn as well.


One month ago I and four of our children left Kearney, my home of nearly thirteen years, to join my husband (and child #6) in Salem Oregon where he had been living and working for the previous four months. It was with very mixed emotions that I started my car and began the trek 1500+ miles across the country to join them in our new house. Waving to me in the rear view mirror was my oldest daughter and her husband (who will soon give birth to our first grand child) along with our oldest son, our third child, and a couple of dear friends.


This past month has found me experiencing life in vastly different surroundings. Everything about where I live and work is different. I expected vast differences especially in terms of our terrain and climate. But there are differences that one never anticipates until you are right there living and trying to function in a new environment such as: where do you buy groceries? What isle is the lemon juice in? Why can't I pump my own gasoline? Who are these people we are calling neighbors? Where is the dump? How do I find someone to cut and color my hair? Which schools do I enroll the kids in? How do I choose a parish, by boundaries or by where I want to worship? Where is the liquor store?
There is a lot to be learned and a lot to adjust to. Most of the time I feel as if my world has been turning, spinning and rotating and I am just trying to stay upright.
I have found that when I can go to the beach and just sit by the ocean then I feel more solid, I feel more grounded, I feel a sense of peace in my world.
I hope to get to the beach more often until I don't need to go to the beach as often.

My last Sunday...

I woke up this morning and was immediately aware that this was my last Sunday morning here in this house.
I was aware of the beautiful day arriving, the sunshine fingering its way to the ground through the left over rain clouds, the Lack of wind, and the sound of people playing softball at the neighboring park.
It is shaping up to be a perfect day.
I will miss this place. It has been home for nearly 13 years. I didn't much like this town when I first moved here. We came in winter and it was bitterly cold, windy, and dreary... for months on end. But I adaped and with time have grown to love it. At least I love six months out of the year. The other six I tolerate.
I am looking forward to going to Mass this morning. I love the way we celebrate Eucharist here. The feeling of community is strong and I feel very connected to the people here. They have become my family. Leaving them is one of the most difficult things I have had to do. However, I have grown and learned so much and I know it is time for me to move on, time to go to some place new and see what there is for me to learn there. And it is also tiime for me to go and share what I have learned.
Interestingly enough it has been roughly nine months since I first knew we were to be leaving this home and moving to a new one. And I have found this transition period to much like the gestation period of waiting for a new baby. I am ready to 'give birth' to this new life. I am still nervous, scared, fearful, but also anxious, excited and just ready!
So here in a few minutes I will awaken the gang and we will go and celebrate liturgy as best we can and then come home and pack.
Next Sunday.... only God knows what is in store for us. It's a new adventure!

Inspirations

Inspirations come from many different sources for me.
Most recently they have come from my friends.
I try to pay attention to inspirations and act on them, but I have to admit lately I have not been very good at the action part. So I am left with all these thoughts, Ideas, prayers, and wonderings rolling around in my head. And if I am to be honest, all the extra 'inspirations' rolling around in my head are probably preventing me from being efficient at work and at home.
I am distracted.
So If I am to be more efficient as we prepare to move half way across the United States next week, then I need to clear my head a bit.
I have been inspired this past week by so many but need to focus on a few specific indidviduals, Jim, Deb, Miechelle and Jack.
In a two day span each of you have had conversations with me about being Blessed.
Jim - in your direct no-nonsense way of helping me see things differently,
Deb - by your thoughfulness and telling me about a book you are reading (I think it is called, Live as if You Were Blessed),
Miechelle - walking into a Wal Greens, seeing a t-shirt with blessed spelled out across the front and buying it for me, and
Jack - sharing in your blog list of all the recent blessings in your life.
All these incidents taken one at a time were meaningful to me, but when occuring all together within a couple of days they have inspired me.
I feel inspired to remain open instead of shutting myself off in an effort to get the work done.
I feel inspired to take time for myself and to write as I face all the changes ahead.
And I feel inspired to approach this time of transition from the perspective of a free spirit instead of a caged one.
So I thank you my friends for inspiring me, lifting me up, supporting me, and loving me.