Baggins / Tookish

I often wonder what is wrong with me.
I can’t figure out how I end up doing the things I do.
I am puzzled as to how I get so intertwined and enmeshed with my work, that things at home get set aside.

What is it about me that can’t be content as a stay-at-home mom?
Why do I seem to need more?
Why isn’t ministering to my children enough for me?

There are aspects of my work that I don’t even like, tasks that require me do things I would never volunteer to do. I would never volunteer to stand before a church congregation or an entire school assembly and make a presentation. Yet I have done both in the past two weeks. I feel nervous, challenged, and uncomfortable a lot of the time with this new job. I could quit, but I can’t. There is something deep inside me that likes this uncomfortable feeling, that wants to be challenged and needs to feel nervous and uncertain.

Maybe I am like Bilbo Baggins in J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit. Perhaps if I were to cross paths with the magician Gandalf he would tell me, “There is more to you than you know.” Gandalf knew that there was more to Bilbo’s sedentary Baggins side. Bilbo was also from the swashbuckling Took side. His blood was a mingling of both Baggins and Took.

The best comparison I have would be the knowledge that I am made in God’s image; both human and divine, both of this earth and of heaven. This mysterious union is one that seems to always lead me down odd paths, around curves and into places I would not go of my own choosing. But much like the Took side of Bilbo that made him trade in his walking stick for a sword and sent him on many adventures, something “Tookish” calls to me, awakes the divine in me and leads me on challenging adventures.

Sometimes I think about how much easier it would be to stay comfortably at home taking care of the ordinary activities of day to day life. I seem to live in this constant tension between human and divine, earth and heaven. Yet just as I start to settle down into a mindset that has me snug, at home, and feeling comfortable, I am once again called out. I am called out of the comfortable, called out to see more, to experience more, to help more, to minister more.

There is a scripture somewhere in the bible ( I don’t know exactly where) that talks about “my soul thirsts for you, my God”.
Perhaps there is nothing wrong with me at all.
Maybe I am just thirsty.
Maybe I should quit being puzzled.
I should stop wondering why.
I should accept that, just by chance (or by the grace of God) that I am okay.

Some days I will pick up my “Baggin’s”walking stick and some days I will strap on the “Tookish” sword. But every day I will try to live as God made me, in His likeness.

Ten months

Ten months ago today I took a good friend to the airport.

It was a difficult good-bye for me. Not the most difficult good-bye I have ever had to say, but it is one that remains vivid in my memory.

I mostly remember the conversation intermingled with the unspoken words, followed by the attempt to make light of having to let go. It was difficult because it felt like he was my last link to a life I loved, a life I didn’t want to leave.
But that is my memory.

For my friend, this good-bye was probably welcomed, not too difficult because he was heading back home. He was going back to a place he was from and a place he wanted to be.

I was the one staying someplace new, someplace unfamiliar, someplace I didn’t want to be. But I needed to make this place my new home.

He said, “Give it time. You can do this. We’ll be praying for you”
And I knew he meant all the family and friends that were now a part of my past.

As I drove away and the reflection of him in my rear view mirror got smaller, my tears fell.

But here I am, ten months later, giving it time, feeling confident in the fact the I can do this and feeling prayed for, supported, and loved by so many.

Matt was right.

I can do this.

Late night Ramblings

It is late...
Almost 1:00am here in Salem.
I am tired. I am worn out, washed up, wrung out and hung out to dry.

So why am I still on the computer?
Part of it is
I have just finished a quarterly report that has to go out tomorrow for my VISTA Volunteer position.
But some of it is that I am too tired to climb the stairs to get to my bed.

And mostly it is that I have missed the solitude, the quiet, the personal reflection time that allows me the time to think, the time to write, the time to pray, and the time to just be.

But I should go because the contacts in my eyes are dry and I can't quite focus on the words I have written.
Oh wait....
perhaps that is the rum.

Good Night!

To be understood as to understand...

Prayer of St. Francis

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;
Where there is hatred,let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is discord, harmony;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
And where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not
so much seek to be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand;
To be loved, as to love;
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

This was one of the first prayers I learned at St. Patricks school when I started there my fourth grade year. All the other kids had memorized the Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be, Act of Faith, Act of Hope, and whatever other Act prayers there are.
So in fourth grade Sr. Mary John set out to teach us all the Prayer of St. Francis.

And although I have never been very good at memorizing or remembering things in my head, this prayer is one that I have remembered and held in my heart.

I especially have tried to live the last part of the prayer. The part that says...

O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand; To be loved, as to love;
For it is in giving that we receive; It is in pardoning that
we are pardoned; And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

I don't know what about these lines called to me so strongly as a young 9 or 10 year old, but something about these words grabbed ahold of me and have settled into my being and my heart.

As a young child I wanted to "seek to understand others" so that I could be understood. I always thought that if I worked really hard to understand others, to love others, to pardon others, to console, then maybe I would be understood, I would be loved, I would be pardoned, and consoled.
But I haven't found this to be true. At least not ALWAYS true.
At times, I feel misunderstood, unloved, condemned (or at least criticized) and hurt. I have wondered if it was because I wasn't understanding enough, wasn't loving enough, wasn't 'something' enough.

But reading this now as an adult I hear it differently. The prayer is supposed to be more of a plea to my Divine master to help me with not seeking more than I give. There is no promise of what I will receive in return. But my child's mind thought there would be some reward in the end for all this giving.

I am realizing now my reward is in the giving.

All this is becoming more clear to me as I read Windows of the Soul by Ken Gire.

Gire gives reference to a line from the movie a River Runs Through It... "You can love completely without complete understanding." Gire goes on to say "It was not required of me to understand. It was required of me to love, and go on loving, completely."

So as I approach Holy Week and the end of my Lenten journey I am changing my focus from understanding in the hope of being understood, to loving completely without understanding. And I hope to approach this knowing that my reward will simply be in the loving completely.

Its spring!
I love this season.
It brings about so much new life, so much new growth. So it seems very appropriate to be experiencing new changes and new opportunites at work and at home during this season as well.

For nearly the past 5 months I have been working at Habitat for Humanity of the Mid-Willamette Valley in the area of resource development. I have learned quite a lot and have just begun to feel more comfortable in my job. I have grown to even like my small workspace in spite of the openness and lack of privacy. But most of all the past 5 months have helped me learn that I am not meant to work in resource development. This is not an area that suits me well.


So I am eagerly awaiting getting back to work after I return from spring break to move into a new work space and more importantly a new job. I will be working as the Program Manager.

This I am very excited about!

Unfortunatley I acquire the new work space, new title and new responsibilites because I have lost a good friend who is moving on and will have her own new adventures ahead.

Jeanne.... It has been my pleasure and an honor to work with you, drink with you, and share an all to brief slice of life with you. I wish you all the best!

Complimentary umbrella ... anyone?

Before I moved to Oregon I diligently watched the weather channel to see if it rained as much as I heard it did.

What I found was that nearly every day weather.com indicated rain, rain and clouds, clouds and rain.

I was discouraged by this.


But after moving I haven't found it to be nearly as rainy as weather.com indicated. In fact this morning the internet predicted yet another cloudy day with a chance of rain, however the skies are clear and the complimentary umbrella stands are going unused.

Remembering and Memories

Today is Caroline's birthday. She is 14 years old. Caroline was the last of our kids to be born in Kansas. We moved to Kearney when she was about 8 months old. She doesn't remember much about Kansas other than it was a long way to drive to visit grandparents and cousins. I think she considers herself a Nebraskan.

It was a year ago today that Jeff arrived in Oregon. It is strange to think it has already been a year. 12 months! When I look ahead to events knowing that it won't arrive for a year it seems like such a long time to wait. Yet when I look back on a year that has past it seems to have gone by so fast. Why is that?

I know there were a lot of things that happened last spring as I was single parenting and getting the house ready to sell that I wanted to commit to memory. Things that I wanted to always hold in my heart. There were feelings shared with friends and family that I swore I would never forget. Yet the memories are fading or at least blending in with all the other years past. I hate that.

But life continues on. Life is constantly filled with new things to remember, to experience, to hold onto.

This morning the phone rang... early! My heart jumped when I saw it was my dad calling. I was afraid that something was wrong, someone was sick or hurt.

But he was calling to sing Happy Birthday to Caroline, a tradition dad has lived out since I was a kid. It just doesn't seem like your birthday until you get sung to by my dad.

Then the news alerted us to a 2 hour delay to the school day, a true birthday gift in Caroline's eyes! A ridiculous decision in Jeff and my eyes.

But the school delay allowed us some time to laugh and cry this morning that we wouldn't have had otherwise. The crying came with the realization that Spike passed away sometime in the night.

Spike was a good fish. Spike could perhaps be the only Beta fish to ever travel from Nebraska all the way to Oregon in water jug in the back of a Jetta. Spike was Laura's fish, a birthday gift from the oldest sister to the youngest sister nearly two years ago.

We took some time and talked about Spike and his travels and adventures. We talked about how she wanted to 'dispose' of Spike. After Laura made a decision and dried her tears she went to find her journal and a pen. She asked me what the date was and she began writing.

I am guessing that a part of her wanted to always remember this morning. She wanted to remember Spike, so she was writing it down.

I suppose that is what I should do more of.... write things down.

So today I am thankful for the snow flurries and a late school start that turned out to be great blessing.

February 26, 2006 - February 26, 2007

It was one year ago today that Jeff, along with all the possessions he anticipated needing for four months, could be found somewhere between Kearney Nebraska and Salem Oregon.




Today Mike and Aimee are in the same bug somewhere between Salem Oregon and Kearney Nebraska heading to Omaha.

And Jeff is driving a new Honda Civic HyBrid.



Maybe next year I will have a new car.
Maybe a red hot convertable!
Maybe a truck with a decent towing capacity.
Or maybe it will be Alex with a vehicle and me still in the Jetta.

The only thing I am certain of any more is that things are in constant motion and always changing.

It a good day when...

It is a good day for me when things get real.
When things get 'down and dirty', or 'down to the nitty gritty'.
When life is honest and raw.

Today was a day like that for me.

You never know what will be asked of you on a Habitat build site.
And I never go with expectations. It just is what it is.
My morning consisted of digging, shoveling,
wheeling and moving dirt. Then leveling and spreading out
topsoil. All done in pouring rain.
It was wet, messy, muddy and difficult.
And tonight my muscles are reminding me of the work that was accomplished. But that is okay because today was a good day.

I suppose what I consider a good day is different than what others might expect.
And what made today a good day wasn't so much the labor involved as much as it was the people that I labored with.

The conversation was just as real, just as honest, just as 'down to the nitty gritty' as was the work.

I need that.
I need that at work and I need that at home.
And today I had both.

One of my adult daughters is here for just a short couple of days and we had a chance to talk. Just a good ole mother / daughter conversation. No interruptions, no sports in the background, just a real, honest, raw conversation about life and the current issues we are facing.

I feel so lucky, so blessed, so graced by moments like these.

Today was a good day.

If life is like a River, I must be in the rapids!

Life has been so busy and it feels like I am body surfing my way through just barely keeping my head above the surface. Sometimes it is fun, sometimes exhilarating, and sometimes frightening.
And then there are times like this morning that I look back up river and don't see anything familiar. I don't recognize where I am or where I have been and have no clue where I am going. I am just on this fast flowing river and I can't seem to get out of it. I am not sure I should get out of it.
Maybe the river is taking me someplace I will be glad to arrive at.
But right now, this morning, I feel scared, and confused.
I would run if I knew which direction to run.
But I don't, So I stay.
I stay because this is where Jeff is.
I stay because this is where the kids are.
But even with that said, life with the kids isn't the same any more.

Lindsey is moving out this week.
Mike and Aimee are preparing to move to Kansas City.
Melissa is having Cale baptized when we go back to Kearney in March, in the Methodist church.

So much is happening and I haven't had time to get a handle on things,
I haven't had time to process all this change.
I need some quiet time to pray.

But Life is busy and I am being swept downstream and it is taking all I have to concentrate,keep my head up, and stay afloat until I reach calmer waters.

February Flowers

It is February here in Oregon. Actually it is February everywhere. But it feels like I am experiencing February in a different way than most everyone else I know. I suppose because it is my first February here and most people I know live in Nebraska or Kansas.


The past six months or so I seem to approach most everything in my life from a place of explanation. I explain to people I am new and need directions, I explain to new people about my eight kids (see previous blog), I explain to people about my accent (which I didn't know I had), and I explain to native Oregonians what winter weather really is.

But I am getting off track.... I wanted to talk about flowers....

It is February here and there are flowers everywhere. The grocery stores, the garden centers, the hardware stores, even the gas station has flowers to sell. I was walking along the storefront shops downtown and found a cart of flowers for sale.

Pansies seem to be the flower to plant in February and they can be found everywhere.

This is vastly different than life in Nebraska or Kansas at this time of the year.

Back home you would be challenged to get through the snow to even consider planting right now. And no one would plant flowers this time of year.
Potatos perhaps, but not pansies.

So life here is different. But this is a difference that I embrace!

Fitting in.

In this new life in Oregon I have been trying to fit in, trying to make friends, trying to find a place where I belong. Some times I feel comfortable, sometimes okay, but awkward, and other times I feel utterly displaced.

But I guess if I am to be honest with myself finding my place in this world has been a search of mine all my life. In my family, in school, in junior high, high school, young adulthood, in Kansas, in Nebraska, and now as a middle age mother of 8, grandmother of 1 in the middle of Salem, Oregon. My search continues.

Maybe I am never meant to fit in comfortably anywhere. Maybe it is in the searching that I am drawn to different places and different people. Maybe the search is the adventure I am meant to live.

Last night my adventure continued as I joined 7 other women whom I had never met. I was invited to attend a cooking class at an upscale restaurant with a group of ladies who were all friends. I was invited to fill an open spot. The invitation came my way from a mom of one of my daughter's friends. When she called with the invitation she said, "I heard you are a mom of 8 and I've never met anyone with that many kids. I think it would be fun to get to know you."

I usually prefer someone get to know me before I share how many children I have, but that is not always possible.

I was nervous about going. How to you go somewhere already knowing that you are the outsider, the novelty new person? But I braved the unknown and ventured out.
The evening was more than just interesting.
I'm not sure how to tell it in a blog so I will try to sum it up...

I arrived at my 'new friend's' home to find she had completely forgotten her invitation to me. And...
She was drunk as a skunk!
She asked if I minded driving... "absolutely not", I said.
When she landed on the floor trying to sit, I helped her back onto her stool pretending not to notice her intoxication.
I endured the stares and sideways glances from the prim and proper group. I can only imagine what they thought of me, this stange newcomer, who they never bothered to ask my name or how I came to be here with the drunken friend.
I tolerated the gasps and questions that came as I was introduced with, "She is new to town and oh, can you believe she has 8 kids!"
Then they proceeded to talk about me as if I wasn't there, all of them wondering aloud what it must be like to have eight kids.
I politely thanked them and left, taking my drunken host with me.

And I wonder why I don't fit in.
I am simply not meant to fit in and after last night I am glad I don't fit in, at least not with this group of ladies.

A Gorgeous day!

There are days like yesterday that linger on long after the sun has set.
A day that brings with it a serenity, a peacefulness, that settles into your heart and lingers in your soul.
I had a day like that yesterday. The sun was shining, the wind was calm, and the ocean waves were turning and crashing with brilliant white foam.
We explored tides pools, hiked the big sand hill, rolled back down the big sand hill, and found sand dollars.

Then we splurged on a great dinner at the Pelican Brewery and watched the remainder of the sun turn from yellow, to orange, to red, then pink, until the final shades of purple disappeared into night.

It was a gorgeous, glorious day.

Sunrise on my Cell Phone

Each new day begins with a sunrise. Some days I am lucky enough to see the beginnings of the new day and all the vibrant colors as they permeate the sky. Some days I don't.
Whether I get to witness the sun rising or not I know that a new day awaits.

Our household wakes and greets one another with the usual words,'good morning'. Most often those two words are uttered, mumbled, or grunted. But sometimes they are proclaimed cheerfully.

The same two words are shared at work as people arrive and settle in at their desks. 'Good Morning' can sometimes be heard clearly and with energy. Sometimes it is barely audible and filled with fatigue.

It interesting for me to guess how someone's night went by how they express their 'good morning'.

I suppose when I wish someone 'good morning', I am wishing people a good start to their day. I don't think to tell them 'good afternoon' or 'good evening' as the days wears on. I just assume the 'good morning' applies to the whole day from start to finish.

The start of a new day is like my chance for me to start over. It is my chance to do this day better than I did the previous day. It is my chance to not make as many mistakes, or at least to learn from the ones I made yesterday. It is my chance to listen better, to parent better, to be a better partner for my husband.

But most of all when I get up in the morning in time to see the sunrise in all its glory I am reminded to tell God 'good morning'. I am reminded to talk to God more in the afternoon, to listen to God more in the evening, and to pray from start to finish.


Sunsets .... I'll save for another time.

It's not fair!

Life's not fair!
It's not fair!
That's not fair!
You're not Fair!
Something's not fair!

I think most all of us have said one of those statements at one time in our lives. Or Perhaps we've said it many times.

When I was a kid I probably said it quite a bit more than I do as an adult. My parent's comment was always, "who ever told you that it would be fair?"

Now as a parent myself with many children who are always complaining to me that 'something' isn't fair, I have had to use my parents line quite often.
And I even have several lines of my own to respond with depending on the child and the situation.
But at this stage in my life I am not much of one to say or feel that 'something's' not fair.

At least until this morning.

I am getting older. And I am thankful to be getting older because it means I am still here.
But I never thought that I would have to look at myself every morning in the mirror and have to face both wrinkles and acne.

This is not fair!

I am a grandma now for pete's sake!

I shouldn't have to be sharing acne cream with my 13 year old daughter!
I never thought I'd be yelling at my teenage son trying to locate the astringent to clean my face.
And I certainly don't think that using acne cream followed by the old-age cream to moisturize and soften all the fine lines and wrinkles is fair!


But I suppose the only positive spin on this whole bizarre blog is that I now have another line to use on my kids the next time one of them wants something and I say, "no" and they shout, "It's not fair!"

A New Year

2007
The new year came in without a bang. It came in without fanfare. It came in without trumpets, or song, or fireworks or an evening with friends playing How to Host a Murder.

It just came in the quiet of the night with part of the family watching television and part of the family playing computer games and someone saying, "hey! Its midnight!"
It isn't that our New Year was bad, but it was different from the past 7 years.

It is funny (funny-odd, not funny-haha) how attached one gets to routine. The past 7 years we have gathered on New Years Eve with some close friends for an evening of fun. We plan ahead, choose a How to Host a Murder Theme, assign characters, work on costumes, and on New Years Eve gather for great food and beverages, and lots of laughter. It never mattered so much who won the game, or who was the murderer. What seemed to matter most was who had the best costume, or at least who looked the most ridiculous in their outfit.



Just 6 couples getting together to act silly. Most people would run from this sort of evening not wanting to embarrass themselves. But we embraced it wholeheartedly.

Early morning feedings

It has been a lot of years since I had to get up in the middle of the night for a 'feeding'.
I enjoyed my early mornings with Cale, my grandson. He always seemed so alert for 3:00 am.


Being an infant, Cale has no regard for time of day. If he is awake feeling rested and alert, then that is exactly how he is, rested and alert. In just a few short days, 3:00 am became 'my time' with him.
There were no distractions, no chores to be done, no television or radio, no other grandmas, aunts, uncles, or vistors to share the time with. Simply time together feeding each other. Me feeding Cale a bottle and Cale feeding my need to get to know my grandson.

It was a time I will treasure deep in my heart.

Oh Christmas Tree

Growing up I have vague memories of having a 'real' Christmas tree. Most of my life, from 4th grade and every year since, I have always had a 'fake' Christmas tree.
I am not sure why my parents decided to change from 'real' to 'fake' but as kids we didn't care.
A 'fake' tree meant we could put the tree up earlier in Advent and leave the lights on longer without worry or concern for the tree drying out and catching fire. As a child my main worry was if the tree caught fire then so would the presents underneath.

In my mind 'fake' was just fine.

When I got married and our family began our own traditions we went with the 'fake' tree as well because of allergic concerns for my husband.

So for the past 36 or so years it has been 'fake' all the way.

Until this year!

For the first time in our family tradition and my first time in nearly 4 decades we have a REAL Christmas tree in the house.

Since we have moved to Oregon, the Chritmas tree capital of the world (or at least it seems to be), it would be a shame to not get a 'real' tree this year. We talked about going out and cutting down our own tree. We learned all the important details such as, the appropriate tools to take to the Christmas tree farm, how to 'carry' your tree out of the field and not 'drag' it out so it doesn't get muddy, and even how to shake your tree out to free it from critters such as spiders, bugs and even bats.

Learning all this didn't scare me off from cutting my own tree, but I was happy to learn that my husband was content to purchase a tree from the young family down at the corner lot.

It isn't that I wasn't in the Christmas spirit. Nor was it that I didn't want to create great new family memories. It is just that I know my family.

I think cutting down our own tree appealed to my husband because it had a wonderful Norman Rockwell feel to it. This Rockwell vision of acquiring a Christmas tree was the experience my husband was hoping we could have as a family. I envisioned more of a Griswalds Christmas experience.

If you haven't seen Chevy Chase and the Griswald family then you won't understand. But if you know my husband and kids you are most likely laughing already.

Perhaps next year we will be up to the challenge of cutting our own tree and hauling it home, but for this year we are all very happy to have our first ever 'real' live tree!

Five days and a wake up

I am counting down the days.
It is five days and a wake up until I get to hold my grandson for the first time.
I have seen him on the iSight, and while this helps, it isn't the same. I can't smell the new baby smell or feel the soft new skin, or feel him snuggle up against my neck.
I need to be there in the flesh to experience the full wonder and joy of new life.

I found out I was a grandma while in Las Vegas. I left in the middle of a conference session to take the call.
I sat alone in hallway with tears of joy, excitement, and relief falling down my cheek. It was such a relief to hear my daughter had come through the C-section just fine and my new grandson was healthy.

I was longing to share the news with someone, but not just anyone.
I needed to share this kind of news with someone who would understand,
someone who knew me and my feelings of becoming a grandparent.
And at just that moment a dear friend found me. It could not have been better timing.

I don't believe it was a coincidence. It was meant to happen this way.

All this took place eight days ago. It feels as though more time has passed than eight days, but the calendar doesn't lie.
So looking ahead I have just five days and a wake up until I can travel back home to see, and touch, and smell all the joy surrounding the new life in our family.

Where did my life go?

Have you ever been in a place where nothing was familiar?
Have you ever found yourself questioning most everything around you?
Have you ever asked yourself Where in the hell did my life go?

A few times over my lifetime I have had days like this.
Yesterday was one of those days.

Thank God these kind of days don't come often, but when they do I feel confused, disoriented, frazzled and uncertain.
The kind of uncertain that makes me question, makes me wonder. And even leaves me wandering around as if in a fog and I can't find my way.

It is the kind of feeling that makes me want to go back to what is familiar, to what I know, to a place of confidence instead of confusion. To a place of familiarity instead of disorientation. To a place of determination instead of uncertainty. But I can't leave. This is where I am supposed to be now. This is my life and I have to learn to negotiate my way through it.

The last time I remember having a day like this was many years ago. Probably 14 years or so. And I negotiated my way through, learned much, and found myself in a great place.

So I can only proceed with the same assumption. I will negotiate my way through this. I will learn much. And I will find myself in a great place.

I just wish I knew how long it is going to take to get there.