An Intention for my College Bound Daughter

I pray for strength. I pray for kindness.  I pray for patience.  I pray for enduring acceptance.

Please, Holy One, keep her safe from harm. May my daughter meet people that fill her life with laughter, good, clean, safe fun and life-long friendships she can count on.  May she be filled with your light and love so she attracts only that into her days.  Help her identify struggles quickly so the universe may bring her the solution she needs without pause. May He Who Is To Come enter her life for the first time this fall.  Let him be a brilliant young man who thrives on an impeccable work ethic.  Bring his unmatched character and never-critical self to shift her heart. When she needs space to be alone in reflection, he offers the time before she asks.  When she needs closeness and affection, he holds her in timeless silence.  He is tactful, considerate and gracious.  Those who meet him are instantly drawn to him.  He honors her wisdom as equal to his own. He never harms her emotionally and absolutely never physically.  His respect for her is unending.  This is my intention for my daughter, my glorious offspring.  Her grace is our gift.  Her happiness our perpetual quest.

Lessons Learned & Scars Burned

4:45 a.m. - As a parent, how do you not overreact to a situation with your kids and still make the acceptable and unacceptable clear?  How do you make your point without nagging?  How do you teach a lesson with a listening ear and not judgment?  How do you parent fully, love unconditionally and inspire whole-heartedly with your true authentic self when you are hurt and angry about something your teen said or did?  As I went to drop a car off for my now graduated 18 year old at 4:40 am this morning, the phone rang.  My raging daughter is wondering why the car was not waiting for her in the school parking lot after her graduation night lock in. Not only was I just walking out the door to drop off a car arriving, well before the 5:00 am time they told parents, but I planned to walk home myself – so she did not have to.  Apparently, now it is my fault the hyphotist did not show up and the student busses left the lock in early.  As parents, how do we set boundaries about acceptable behaviors toward us?  Are fibs and lies the same thing?  When your child speaks their mind with conviction - is that the same as sassing?  Is one okay and the other is not? At what age do we accept they don’t need to ask “permission” anymore? Now, as I send my first born off to college (we registered for classes at UMD last week) I hope and pray we have set her up for success. And, I hope and pray that together we have generated more lessons learned than scars burned.

Witnessing, no longer directing her path

As my child walks away from me, moving down her own path, it is agonizing to be a witness to her choices and no longer a director.  Help me be an attentive, kind, logical, rational, level-headed mother who demonstrates intelligence not crazy. Prevent me from forcing the wisdom I think I gained in my teen years onto her – our experiences are so very different.  Prompt my phrases OhWonderful Wisdom Parent and Creator to emerge from my mouth as she needs to hear them.  Just in the right tone, with the perfect word choice at the ideal time.  Let all auxiliary, clunky judgements shrivel up.  Stop life-harming actions before they emerge. Prevent criticism from flying out of my mouth or beaming sharply from my eyes.  Inspire me to be more quiet than quick-witted so I may listen more than I lash out.  It is my desire to be like my 72 year old friend Mr. Nimmer who has “learned the hard way” how to be a good listener.  He has no children of his own. His UST and 360 Journalism (organization) students are his kids. He is an honest force to be reckoned with.  I want to more fully discover my honest voice that does not cower in a corner or pretend there is no conflict.  I want to be the one she eventually looks back to and says, “Oh, now I see what you mean.” Even if it takes her a decade to see through the trees.  I am now and forever her SUPER FAN whether she sees it – or not.  It is a parent's dream to see an oldest child college bound and strong. You Go Krista, Go.

shift the trajectory of the energy of the world

As I wait right now for my beautiful 13 year old son to arrive home safely from school, I was finally able to cry while watching this video. I have not felt the same since Friday. When we send our children off to school in the morning, we trust they will come home to us each afternoon.  We are indeed at a crossroads in human existance.  I pray to God that in some small way, we Christians can shift the trajectory of the energy of the world for our children and our children's children so love will "flash mob" constantly in their lives.…..Watch the video below all the way to the end for a warm surprise.

Blessing, Peace and Healing love this holiday season to you

...http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=Vnt7euRF5Pg&vq=medium

Iowa pride, passed on to daddy’s girl.

Here is the thing about college towns.  People are completely crazy.  An old man walked up to my husband in the Hawk Shop in Iowa City and asked if he could buy John's sweatshirt. “I like that sweatshirt.  Can I buy it from you?”  Really?  We are IN a shop with 100 sweatshirts and you want the one my husband is wearing? Wow!  Iowa.  I’m all Minnesota – all the time - so you have to appreciate how difficult it is for me to "get" the complete chaos that surrounds Iowa Hawkeye Pride.

We are at the University of Iowa for an admissions tour which of coarse forces me to first admit I am OLD enough to HAVE a 17 year old daughter and then makes me realize my fabulous daughter will not live with us next fall.  This PRIDE thing has possessed my husband for life.  This contagious disease has now rubbed off on – actually implanted itself – upon my first child and only daughter.  I held it together most of the admissions tour but then we stepped into a dorm room.  COED dorms? Really?  Visitor “in and out” books monitored by none, over-night visitor are any one.  Are you kidding?  “You gotta let go sometime mom. You might as well start now,” our white hatted tour guide coached us as we stood there dumbfounded.  All I could see was two college freshman having sex on a loft bed and one of them looked like my daughter.  NOT OK!  As we exited the dorms, a screaming, drunken boy hanging out his car window hollered “Come to school here man it’s &*^*% the shits, man.” The females in our admissions tour group rolled their eyes.  Are THOSE the kinds of boys that will be sleeping above and below us…I mean sleeping a floor above and below us in the dorms?  Oh, wait. Maybe it was just us MOMS of these 17 year olds deep in a horror-filled trance.

Whatever the case, Krista’s in. Hook line and sinker. As I watched her walk a few paces ahead of me next to her dad I could not help thinking…I should have seen this coming the day I married this man.  Iowa pride, passed on to daddy’s girl. In that instant I looked up and she was 9 again, walking hand in hand by his side.  What’s a Minnesota girl gonna do but buy an “Iowa mom” shirt and step aside?

Missing my Krista.

My daughter has been in AZ since Tuesday with her friend.  Today I sent her this over Facebook Messaging.  I love her more than she will ever know:   Dear Krista:
I vow to give you positive attention more often than negative, to listen to you and not judge, to provide enough structure for you to understand expectations while honoring your freedom.

I will not blame or shame you. I love you. Forever. No matter what.

No job? No judge!

This morning my son was racing around the house late for school while looking for his shoes and he yelled at himself. “Why can’t I just learn to leave my shoes in a logical place?” He left them INSIDE the TV cabinet. I laughed out loud and smiled because I could not have said it better myself. I poured another cup of coffee and put my own shoes on to drive him to school. We live three blocks away from his school so why do you ask would I drive him? Because I worked outside my home, earning a decent but not lucrative wage, his whole life and I was laid off in September. For 12 weeks now, as I look for work, apply for unemployment and try to navigate the maze of “job hunting tips and tricks” I pause. Every morning, I drive him to school because I CAN! Don’t judge me for wasting gas – some wonderful conversations with my son happen in those magic three minutes in the car. This morning he asked "why are people homelessness mom?" Be happy and healthy exactly where you are. If you are missing something in your life, add a little of it in. If you have too much of something else, cut it out bit by bit. Be deliberate. Be intentional. Be there for your kids wherever and whenever you can sneak in a moment or two. They will remember the little things you do daily more than you know.

Thanksgiving 2011

On this Thanksgiving weekend, I am thankful for my wise, witty, wonderful daughter. At times, we swipe the wind right out of her sails. She is patient with us. We are patient with her. She is spreading her wings. We want her to stay our little girl. Safe, obedient, rule follower little girl. I love her for growing up into a respectful, wise, loving young woman.

I am thankful for my silly, super-charged handsome son who is so intense when he focuses hard on the things he loves. He is my intense reader that plows through book after book after book. He is my snuggler at 12 years old who still holds my hand when we walk side by side.

I am thankful for my home, my husband, my friends and family. I am thankful for my health. I am thankful for life. Now, Lord, help me find my place in the world of the gainfully employed…please.

Sunday I sat in the livingroom glued to the TV shows about 9-11. Suddenly, at about 11am, I grabbed my journal dated Tuesday, September 11, 2001 and asked Krista, Jake and Krista's two friends to join me in a circle for a couple minutes. I asked them to hold hands. Shoulder to shoulder, we sat on goose down blankets and I began to read out loud. “Tuesday, September 11, 2001.” They all looked at me, perplexed, wondering what this odd woman was doing interrupting the movie they were trying to finish. I continued…”Today, two planes were purposely crashed into the World Trade Towers…” Anna began to form tears in her eyes and Krista had a thoughtful crooked, face. Brittney looked like a deer in the headlights and Jake, well, he just soaked it in. He was exactly two when we were attacked. Krista remembers that her grade school TV’s were on and teachers left kids alone in rooms to gather around the TV in the cafeteria. Teachers left no explanation. I started crying, right there in front of all four children. Sobbing really. I did not care that they saw me weak. I did not care that they saw me crumble for a moment. I composed myself and contined reading my account, in my own words, of what happened that day. Then, the kids talked about what they remembered – and that was that. I walked upstairs, made them breakfast, and vowed to go to 5pm mass at the St Paul Cathedral in honor of the fallen. Krista, Jake were by my side at the mass.

Mixing it up...

The day after a fun-filled Cabooze staged Rocket Club (www.rocketclub.info) concert I washed the Nashville fragrance off my skin and replaced it with deep woods Cutters. I traded the fashion-forward ripped jeans and black heals with cargo pants and Keens. I felt a bit out of place, and a lot out of my mind with fears of mosquitos and swim-tests. I was much more confident at the concert last night. But, I am a MOM first and foremost; so as a MOM I make sacrifices constantly. I also make memories with my son a priority (though I must admit this one took my husband's coaching - to get me here). In a four day Boy Scout weekend I had no time to daydream about unproductive things. I was scheduled at all times. All attention was directed to Jake and getting him where they said he had to be. Structure. Order. Not things I am usually good at. Throuth a quick transition from loose and loud concert Friday night – to the next – the orderly peace of nature-in-a-tent Saturday I realized: whether it's Cutters or Cologne nothing was out of place. Concert, Cabooze, Kids, Camp, It's all good. Mixing it up, having fun, loving my kids...

Swoosh and score

He sat silently on the living room floor picking the tiniest pieces of Legos from a mound of grey, black, and white plastic pieces. He whistled contently to himself - his imagination took shape in stackable toys. My forth grade son Jake is at peace with his pieces. Yes, he plays sports too. But, last year in basketball he struggled to understand the game and make the plays. This year a miracle happened. His coach said "Jake, you are the most improved player on the team," and suddenly my boy found his groove. A team mate passed him the ball under the basket. He caught it. The parents shouted, “shoot, Jake. You can do it.” He looked for an open team mate to pass to instead. Seeing no one open and hearing the roar of the crowd, my beautiful, brainy son took a shot. As the ball hit the backboard and rolled around the rim of the basket, the parents went wild. “Swoosh,” went the basketball. And “score,” went Jake’s confidence. Thanks coaches, for making our son a play-maker too!

95% MOM!

I walked out the door of my home tonight to attend a wonderful women-only event held just once each year. It is a holiday tea with home baked treats and seven layer dips that melt fancily in my mouth. I go for the food and fellowship – and because I love my friend Michelle who puts the party on each year. I visit with wonderful women for a few hours on a Sunday afternoon. Some women I have known for years and others I will meet for the first time. Each woman has an interesting story to tell.

“Mom,” my 14 year old daughter moaned as I put my coat on, “you’re leaving us again?” Her weepy eyes searched mine for some sign of guilt induced by her overstated comment. She found none. Her attempt to keep me home was inspiring since she rarely indicates a desire to be around me. But, I deliberately did not change my plans.

Instead, I turned to her and kindly said, “Yes, that’s right. I am leaving for a little bit. I guess you could call me your 95% mom. You see honey someday you will understand that I give 95% of my time to my beautiful family so you can experience how deeply you are loved. I give 95% of my life to you so you realize your life is more important to me than my own.

But tonight is 5% mom night. I need 5% of my life, my energy, and my time to be spent taking care of me. I visit with other women and take care of myself so I can love you more fully, more often, more calmly, and more gratefully. I am your 95% mom and I love you! And someday I pray that you will be a 95% mom too.

Looking Up - Happy time in Northern MN

Our feet crunched the moist, soggy grass while the rough edges of fallen sticks grabbed our ankles. The Northern Minnesota electronic-free cabin made us forget about cell phones and TVs. Up here in the north woods, the happy times are created the “old fashioned way.”

My daughter and her friends sat in the middle of the lake on a paddleboat. My son Jake and his friend joined me in the SS Ash Lake. The new camouflage green canoe invited us to take our inaugural ride. The boys wobbled aboard as it sat uneven half on shore, half on water. It nearly capsized three times before we set sail. I crawled in last and shoved us out to sea. As Jake witnessed my farm girl strength, his voice rang out “go mom, go. Go mom, go.”

When our vessel finally cleared the shore-lining four foot reeds I looked up. The grey continuous storm clouds that plagued us all day were finally breaking. In their place appeared soft, rolling-into-themselves, white inspiration. As the sun set in the west it cast streams and beams of fire red wonder upon the clouds. Their lava-bright brilliance stopped my heart. I embraced the moment – knowing I had only a moment – to ask the boys to stop paddling, stop babbling, and look up. They put their paddles down, closed their busy 9 year old mouths and absorbed the glory of the sight. We all faced west, Ash Lake’s healing water was calm and crisp below us. The cabin stood tall to our right. The reeds stood at attention in front. The water calmly cradled our hull. Only the sound of a distant train whistle penetrated the silence. Then, as unexpectedly as the moment appeared, my son stated, "Okay Mom, happy time is over. Keep it movin.”

Courage is the place between fear and faith

I sit at 4:45 a.m. on a still Saturday morning with a white goose down comforter draped gently over my shoulders and arms. My wrists and hands stroke the keyboard but appear disconnected from my body as they protrude from the whiteness. That disconnectedness feels symbolic of the scattered life I am living and the whole life I want to live.

The phrase “All for the Greater Honor and Glory of God” rings in my ears from my catholic school upbringing. Etched in the letters in the church archway, it left an indelible mark on my soul and self. It is a mark I am completely confident is good. I’m working too much. I miss my children. I don’t want them home alone after school.

Where is the courage I need to be honest with my feelings? Where is the courage to help me stand up for my vision of a world where young people are respected, empowered, and embraced ? Where is the courage I need to enact my vision of a world where women are inspired and strengthened while their children are safe and successful? When do I start dedicating time toward my vision of peace in this world?

Am I strong enough to move from “this is what I do” to “this is who I am?” I’ve worked at CommonBond for 10 years - the longest I have ever been anywhere. Just last year, after a life-altering trip to Costa Rica, the energy inside me shifted. I stopped grasping for the validation that a paycheck can bring and sought out the courage to trust that I must focus my energy on what I want more of. As I block more time for my children and less time for work from home the shift continues. I begin to trust that everything is perfect. I begin to realize that courage IS that place between fear and faith that moves us from who we are to who we are suppose to be. And, the only way I can experience the movement is to DO MORE of what I want more of in my life and DO LESS of what I want less of. Simple? Yes. But I must remain deliberate, determined deborah.

I must break out of old patterns, routines and behaviors that steal my time. I must trust myself! I must have the courage to be inspired by my children while I incubate my vision of their world. I must have no regrets. Everyday I will remind myself that LOVE creates LOVE.

A Mother's Intention

One especially chaotic morning, my children and I were running impossibly late for school. Frantically, I threw two equally filled baggies of cereal, and the kids, into the back seat of my car. I shifted into reverse and floored the gas as I skidded out of the garage. The children instantly burst into an argument.

With legs and arm flailing, they pummeled each other. My blood pressure soared as I spun my head around like Linda Blair in the Exorcist to face them. As I prepared to rant and rave, an angelic instead of demonic voice deep inside my soul, pleaded for calm: “THE SITUATION WILL PASS, YOUR REACTION TO IT MAY NOT.”

I shifted the car back into park. I put my hands on the top of the steering wheel and placed my forehead on my hands. I stayed silent. I sat motionless. I had two choices. One: with eyes bulging and voice raging I could turn around and face them. They would witness my snarling face and coal black eyes piercing through them in distain and my booming voice rattling the car windows. That vision would be etched in their memory forever.

Or, I could skip the threats, damning language, and criticism and remain calm. I could use my inner strength to remain undisturbed by their misbehavior. I could simply state, "I am not moving until you both stop. You will both be late for school. Do you want that?"

In that moment I intentionally chose how NOT to solve conflict. I created a teachable childhood moment where calmness and kindness prevailed. My silence generated a reciprocal silence from the back seat. Their anger failed to feed my reaction. THE SITUATION did PASS. My reaction TO IT - caring and patient, shifted their memory of that moment from CHAOS TO CALM - setting the tone for their childhood to be different, intentionally different, from my own.