Optimism is relevant in any century.

Last night was opening night of our local High School fall musical. This year they are doing "Annie", which I find particularly pertinent (in a funny sort of way) in light of the current economic and political climate. The play is set in 1933 -- in the midst of an economic depression so pervasive that it came to be known as "The Great Depression". Franklin Delano Roosevelt was fairly new to the office of President -- a democrat -- following on the heels of republican Herbert Hoover. Sort of like Barack Obama's succession of George W. Bush. The theme of the play, in my opinion, is OPTIMISM. I think it is a lesson we can all take to heart today. I'm not sure that when the directors chose this play last spring, they realized how relevant a play set in the 1930's would be. I am particularly proud of my two sons, Mark and Grant, for the roles they portray in the play. The scene I have posted is one that vividly depicts how an optimistic attitude can change everything. Naturally, I am exceptionally proud of this scene because Grant plays the part of FDR (my lifelong republican Grandmother would turn over in her grave if she saw her great-grandson portraying a DEMOCRAT!) She did credit Roosevelt for "one good thing", however -- he gave our country social security, which provided comfortably for her in her later years. (She lived to be 105 years, 11 months old!)

You don't see Mark in this scene, but he plays the head butler in Warbuck's household. It could have been a ho-hum role, but he brought it to life in a novel way, and gave the character a memorable personality. Following are some pictures I took during rehearsals and the final dress rehearsal (presented as a public performance for families of the cast and school volunteers). If you happen to live in or near Cambridge, try to get a ticket to see this excellent production! (Okay -- I don't know why, but the icon that I usually click on to let me upload pictures isn't working right now -- maybe there will be pictures later...sorry).

In lieu of posting the photos in this blog, here is a link to another site where they are posted. Click on the first photo in the album and you should be able to see them all by selecting "next" in the upper righthand corner.)

(You can also cut and paste this address -- it should take you to the same address as the above link -- I still haven't mastered all of the blogger protocols.)
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=180146&l=7c683&id=706845173

Flamingo Pink

The old couple who lived here were my grandparents. The house is gone – obviously. The two story structure remains fixed in my childhood memory for its sunny porches, for its wood burning stove in the kitchen, for its grate in the floor of the upstairs bedroom that let warm air tinged with the the scent of woodsmoke and strong coffee brewing waft up from the main floor in the early morning hours......and for its color. My grandfather, a jack-of-all-trades (one of which included house painting), chose to paint his own home pink. Not just a fade into the background, pale pink. Oh no – his house was flamingo pink! Not only was his house pink, but his car was pink as well. And in his pocket he always carried those round, chalky pink mints, which he freely passed out to grandchildren and kids on his school bus route. All this was long before Mary Kay Ash developed her pink cosmetic empire. My salt-of-the-earth Grandpa just plain liked pink.

Before he earned his living painting houses and driving school bus, Grandpa owned and operated the local creamery. Dairy farmers used to bring their milk in daily, whereupon Grandpa and his two or three employees would separate the cream, churn the butter, prepare the buttermilk, and make the ice cream. Deliveries were made in the pink car. It was a real family business; Grandma kept the books, and my Dad and his younger brother earned 5 cents a day helping to churn butter and make deliveries. Grandpa and Grandma survived the Great Depression on the proceeds of the creamery, which oftentimes came in the form of a bushel of apples or a dozen eggs, because cold hard cash was so hard to come by. My Dad, who grew from a lad of 5 to a teenager during the depression, says he never even realized that times were tough. It was just the way life was in those days.

Next to the house Grandpa always put in a huge garden. He grew potatoes and carrots, strawberries, corn, and beans -- both green and yellow. I don’t remember that he ever grew tomatoes or lettuce or broccoli or cauliflower or cabbage. He was a simple man in many ways, given to simple ways and simple tastes. He had spent a year in the trenches of France during WWI and treated each day as a gift. For her part, Grandma grew hollyhocks and asparagus. Her asparagus patch was by the shed out back. Her rule was to stop cutting the asparagus on the 4th of July. I don’t suppose she ever broke that rule. Asparagus simmered in milk and butter, with lots of saltine crackers crumbled into the milky mixture was one of her specialties, along with “Minnesota” potatoes – potatoes chopped fine and pan fried in lard with a generous seasoning of salt and pepper. She never exercised a day in her life yet she outlived my active grandpa by a quarter of a century. You would think with her sedentary lifestyle and with all of the fat and cholesterol she used in her cooking, her heart and arteries would have rebelled at a much younger age, but somehow she managed to survive until a month shy of her 106th birthday. That was a decade ago.

Summers at my grandparent’s house meant long hours playing outdoors. In addition to his garden, Grandpa also grew Christmas trees. Grandpa and Dad used to go out to the “tree farm” on hot summer days to trim the trees, pruning and shaping them with a few well-placed snips, preparing them for a December harvest. I would sometimes come along and play pioneer games amongst the trees while they worked, imagining myself a little Laura Ingalls living in the Big Woods. Other days were spent at the lake. To get to the swimming beach we would ride our Schwinn one-speed bikes -- with the baskets in front loaded with paper bag lunches -- down the country road into town, through the alley behind the old Davis place, and across the street. My little sister and I, and sometimes a cousin or two, would swim like fish for an entire day. My brother, on the other hand, would often spend his entire day fishing in the lake, bringing home fresh sunfish, northern, or walleye that he would clean and give to Grandma to prepare for our supper. Somewhere in my parent’s photo album back home is a faded Polaroid of my brother and my cousin holding a nice stringer of fish, my proud Grandpa looking on.

After Grandpa died, Grandma lived alone in the pink house. Before long she had her sons repaint it a more “respectable” white. I can only assume she allowed the house to be pink as a concession to my Grandpa and her great love for him. When she died, the house, with all of its memories, was put up for sale. Eventually the new owners had it torn down. The garden and the asparagus patch gave way to weeds and wild grasses. The once-tended acres of trees grew far too big to decorate anyone’s living room. Today, I don’t even know who owns this land that my imagination and I once roamed freely across.

It always nicks my heart when I drive past this place now not just because of the loss created by my Grandparent’s absence, but also because of how quickly time can erase our material existence. I doubt another passerby would even give it a second glance. Where there is emptiness, we are quick to turn away and forget. I am like a desert-weary traveler, seeing a shimmering, sun-induced mirage…images of a home, of a history, of human beings. I cup these images in my hand and carry them – precious -- like water. Even nothingness has weight. And I realize that the space I inhabit will someday fade. I, too, will return to field-swept breezes, overgrown trees and grasses, dark, fertile earth. My existence on earth will become someone else's precious images, remembered for the life I lived and the love I shared.

A car honks and I am brought back to the present. I turn my Chevy Malibu back onto the county road and drive on, feeling slightly lost in the in-between. Past. Present. Loss. Progress. Extinction. Vitality. History. Potential.

I have heard that the town is expanding in this direction. The land has become valuable. Someday soon there will be plans to subdivide it, to build efficient homes sporting nondescript vinyl siding, landscaped lawns, and paved driveways leading to three-car attached garages that house mini-vans and hybrid cars. Perhaps the new owners will never wonder about who came before them. They will be caught up in the living of their own lives, with the making of their own history. There will be lawns to mow, snow to shovel, kids to raise, groceries to buy, wages to earn. They will be working hard, trying to make a good life for themselves, a better life for their children. But I’m pretty sure none of their houses or cars will be flamingo pink.

Double Digits!

Okay -- I'm having a really hard time getting this post to look right. So bear with me...

Isaac recently turned 10. TEN! I can't believe my baby is now in double digits! With all of the turmoil in our family recently, it was good to have a reason to take time to stop and celebrate life.

On Saturday we had a samll birthday party for him. We invited six of his friends, but only three could come. The four boys that were there able to come had tons of fun first playing inside with legos and later moving outside for a nerf "war". Of course, being boys, they also discivered the pond, where they proceeded to use the toads for nerf target practice (no harm came to any innocent toads) and staged a lego version of the sinking of the Titanic and Lusitania. Pictures follow. Sorry that they are not well labeled -- I'm not so good at editing on blogger.

A mother's pain, a mother's hope

I don't post frequently -- usually only when something of importance happens. Always, before, those things have been good things. Today's post will be different. Recently, our family has been experiencing a crisis involving our second oldest son, Nathan. Nathan is a 20-year-old student in the IT (information technologies) program at the University of Minnesota. He is brilliant, if I do say so myself. He is also sensitive (as are all of my kids), and prone to perfectionism and high expectations, particularly of himself. Earlier this summer he went through a nasty breakup with his girlfriend of nearly 5 years, and he has been on a slow downward spiral ever since. Every time he seemed to make progress something new (concerning the ex-girlfriend) would come to light and would send him back down -- every time he went down it became harder to get back up. Finally he just didn't have the will to get up again, so last week we had to have him hospitalized to help him deal with his depression. We are grateful that he is in a place where he can get the help he needs to get up, move forward, and look ahead to the rest of his life with optimism. It will be a process, though, and we have no idea yet how that process will take shape. Right now it is one day at a time. We trust God for hope and wisdom to deal with this, and know it is in His plan for Nathan to get better.



This morning I wrote Nathan a letter that I would like to share with all of you.

September 23, 2008

Dear Nathan,

I don’t even know where to begin. I guess what I want you most to know is how very much I love you. You are my sweet, kind, funny, sensitive, smart, creative, unique Nathan. I loved you even before you were born, but I distinctly remember the moment I fell in love with you. It was at the hospital after you had been born. They had taken you away from the delivery room to the nursery, and I was brought to my room. I was trying to get some rest (since you had kept me up all night) but despite my exhaustion, I couldn’t sleep. I called for the nurse to bring you to me, and the moment I had you in my arms, all was right with the world. We slept, the two of us all nestled together, in blissful peace. I was in wonder over how perfect you were. My love for you has never wavered from that moment on. I am still in wonder over the amazing person you are. I love you fiercely, Nathan. Never forget that.

How I wish I could still take you in my arms and tell you that all is right with the world. I wish for you the blissful sense of peace that surrounded us on the night of your birth. I know right now you do not feel that there is any peace in your world, that it is so far from “right” that you don’t know if it will ever be right again. I am in pain watching your pain. I feel helpless to give you the answers and the guidance you need, Lord knows I have tried. I want so much to take all of your hurts away, to protect you from sorrow, but I know that is unrealistic, and probably unhealthy. It is often the painful things in life that help us grow, become stronger, and produce great character in us. I want that for you. I want these deep, dark moments of your life to lead you into a life where you are stronger, wiser, and more resilient than ever. I want you to learn how to face the bad with integrity and the good with humility. I want you to have the skills to look life in the face, and live in the truth and strength of knowing that you can handle it, because you are strong and you are special and you are loved. There are so many people who join me in loving you and needing you to be in the world and in their lives. Not having you here would leave a void that could never be filled. Not ever.

Your name means “Gift from God”. I absolutely consider your life, your existence, a gift. You have so much to offer the world. You are talented in ways I can barely comprehend at times. You have a great capacity for loving others. I know this is true, because of how deeply you are hurting right now. Your capacity for pain is in proportion to your capacity for love. You just have to learn how to harness that great capacity and use it in productive, not destructive, ways. Be motivated by your deepest feelings – but keep them in balance. To paraphrase the Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi – wherever there is hatred, let there also be love and compassion; wherever there is pain and injury, let there also be healing and forgiveness; wherever there is doubt and despair, let there also be faith and hope; wherever there is darkness and deception, let there also be light and truth; and wherever there is sorrow and sadness, let there also be strength and wisdom and joy. You are God’s gift to me, to our family, to your friends, to the world. But there are gifts we want you to receive as well – the love, compassion, healing, forgiveness, faith, hope, light, truth, strength, wisdom, and joy that will be the tools you use to live a full and rewarding life.

You are never alone, son of my heart. Right now there are hundreds (maybe more) of people who are praying for you. We stand beside you, and will walk with you in good times and in bad. Never give up, never give in to despair. Life is good, even when it sucks. For me, goodness always wins, because I see good in so many little things. Things that seem mundane and insignificant, except when I really, truly consider their value. Today I see good in the rain, because it refreshes the earth. Yesterday I was rejoicing in the sunshine and its delightful warmth as summer gave way to fall. I see good in the splash of color against the autumn sky as I watch the trees showing off in a blaze of glory. I see good in your brothers, in their love and concern for you and for each other. I see good in your father, who loves you as fiercely as I do, and can always be counted upon to do the right thing (even if it’s not always “the way I would do it”). I see good in your friends, who come to visit you, who ask how they can help, who want so much for you to get better. I see good in the love of so many people who have asked if they can pray for you, if they can take care of us so we can better take care of you. I see good in the doctors who have been caring for you, ensuring that you will be able to return to health. I see good in music, because when I have a song in my heart it lifts my soul. I see good in the flight of the bald eagle I saw on the way to church Sunday morning, because it reminds me of the verse that tells us that “those who wait upon the Lord will renew their strength. They will mount up on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary, they will walk and never faint.” I claim that promise for us, Nathan. I see good in the kindness and thoughtfulness of people I don’t even know and probably will never meet who have offered prayers on your behalf. I see good all around me, the world is full of it if your heart is open to it. Open your heart to the good all around you Nathan, and your healing will begin.



I love you with a love that will never falter, will never end. You can never do or say anything that will diminish my love for you in any way. Nothing is so bad that you cannot share it with me. I will ALWAYS help you bear your burdens, I will NEVER treat you with shame or dishonor. You are precious to me.

You are a Child of God.

Love, Mom

Announcing.....

...the newest member of the Land of Lakes Choirboys Nordic Choir -- Isaac!!! We spent the past week at choir camp near Lake Mille Lacs. Mark and Grant both attended as junior counselors and I returned for my 3rd year in the kitchen. This was Isaac's 2nd year as a camper. He was apprehensive about the whole camping experience, and about his chances of moving up within the choir ranks. He wants to, and yet -- he doesn't. He wants to because it is both an honor and a sign of his progress as a singer, but at the same time, moving up means going away on tour, which scares him more than a little. His 3 best choir buddies also moved up, so that helps -- they can stay together and support each other. I keep reminding him that he has 10 months of learning, growing, and maturing before he goes on tour, as well as reminding him that the choir is like another family for him. I think that by tour time next June he will have his fears under control. At least I HOPE he will!










Pictures from camp:

Here is Isaac sitting on his bunk in his cabin.













A "Nordic Choir" rehearsal on the first day. The boys did not know at this point who was actually moving into the Nordic Choir and who would be in the newest Land Of Lakes Choirboys choir -- the Voyager Choir (a step between Resident choir and Nordic Choir).











Grant demonstrating good form on the archery range.



















Mark taking Isaac and a friend out on the paddleboat.














Leah shows how to make toast for 110 people in 10 minutes -- slap that butter on!














Another waterfront activity -- sailing!














Yellow sunset.
















Pink sunset.



















The raft was always crowded. The boys favorite water activity has always been throwing the counselor off the raft. The campers usually outnumber the counselor on the raft by at least 20 to 1. The poor counselors don't stand a chance!











One of Isaac's favorite hangouts was the craft cabin.














Here is Isaac at another rehersal later in the week. A returning Nordic Choir member and officer told Aaron (the director) that "Isaac would make an excellent addition to the Nordic Choir. He is always sitting up and paying attention, and he doesn't talk much during rehearsal."












An exercise in trust and teamwork.













Will the circle be unbroken????
















Isaac (and PJ in the background -- Nordic Choir prefect and camp program director) celebrate a successful attempt!













Isaac on the beach. He liked playing in the sand better than playing in the water.


















Waiting nervously as names are announced for the Nordic Choir.














Isaac jumps up when his name is called!














Waiting to see who else is chosen.














Is it relief or terror? Perhaps a little of both. Relief at being chosen (along with his friends), terror at the thought of a three-week-long tour. (He later told me he is afraid that he will miss me too much while on tour).


















The new members of the Nordic Choir gather officially for the very first time.














The four friends who plan to stick together!













The first public performance of the 2008-09 Nordic Choir.













Isaac is in the middle of the front row (seen here sharing music with the boy on his right).















Video from camp:

A Nordic Choir rehearsal -- beginning to mold this group of new boys into a cohesive choir.


Presenting the 2008-09 Nordic Choir! Their first public performance at Timber Bay Camp, August 17, 2008.


The 2008-09 Viking Choir -- a bit of what 4 days of rehearsal with a group of well-trained boys can produce.

Thoughts on Turning 50

Well, friends, I made it. I've hit the half-century mark. I can't say I am excited, exactly, to be here, but really -- why not? Life is good, and I have been blessed in my life with love, health, friends, and family for 50 years now. How could that not make me happy? Every day brings me something new to be thankful for. In days I am 18,280 days old. If I had only one thing to be thankful for for each day of life, it would be quite a list -- but there are many things that bring me to a sense of gratitude every single day. My list stretches miles long.

Being 50 is something that I am adjusting to. I know it's only a number. I know that we are all getting older at the very same rate, that I am no older or younger than you than I was yesterday, or last month, or 10 years ago. In fact, the older I get, the less the "age difference" seems to matter between me and my friends -- some of whom are older and some who are younger. Some quite a bit older or younger. Among my closest friends I can name some who are nearing 60 and others who are barely past 30. Age is not the most important determining factor in who is or is not my friend. Shared interests, experiences, values -- some sort of commonality-- is what binds me to another person. It has little to do with the number of sunrises and sunsets we have seen or the number of breaths drawn since birth, when speaking literally. It's more about how these measures of life are experienced that matters to me. Someone who never looks up at the sky with a sense of wonder and imagination, who never takes a deep breath, holds it in and slowly lets it out in a mindful way, being thankful for the ability to breath and smell and for the scent of life in that breath (be it lilacs or baby poop) -- that person could never understand me in a way that would allow us to become true friends.

In celebration of the 50th anniversary of my birth, I have decided to come up with my “Top 50” list – a list of things that make me happy to be who I am and where I am in this journey through life. These are in no particular order.

1. My parents – without them I wouldn’t be here. They have loved me and guided me my whole life. They gave me the proverbial “roots and wings” needed to become a happy, functional adult and parent to my own children. They grounded in the Word of God and instilled in me a sense of wonder in the world, both physical and spiritual.
2. My husband. God raised up a wonderful man for me. He is not perfect, but we are a good fit, perfect compliments to each other. Our teamwork as parents is uncanny at times. Where I am weak, he is strong and vice versa. I love him with all my heart, even when he is driving me crazy. :-)
3. My children. Every day they amaze and delight me. Sometimes they frustrate me. They are an awesome responsibility and gift from God. I am their biggest fan, in everything they do. I support them in following whatever dreams God gives them.
4. My sisters. What a great gift that they are not only part of my family, but also some of my very best friends.
5. My brother. He is the strongest person I know, my inspiration. The way he has dealt with adversity in his life is the example I turn to whenever I face it in mine. His faith is incredible, his humor invincible. Along with him I have to include his wife, Susie. She is my role model for love, devotion, patience and compassion.
6. Music. Without it I couldn’t dance through life. Sometimes it fires me up, sometimes it calms me down. It colors my world.
7. Flowers. I love their colors, their scents, their variety. I love them in greenhouses, in florist shops, in my yard, on my table, or growing wild in the ditch by the side of the road. Who can look at a flower and not feel better?
8. Coffee. I love to wake up to the aroma of coffee brewing. I love that first, freshly brewed cup in the morning. I have many happy memories that are tied up with coffee, from waking up early in the morning at my Grandma’s house when I was a little girl, to late nights at college, to morning chats with my girlfriends, to coffee in bed delivered by my husband – his special way of showing me he loves me.
9. Babies. It doesn’t matter to me what species the babies are – puppies, kitties, bunnies, birds, or butterflies. Of course, I love people babies the best, but the miracle of birth and the innocence of babies never fails to bring me hope.
10. Swings. They make me feel like I can fly. They rock me like a little child. No matter how old I am, when I see a swingset, I can’t resist getting on and soaring through the air, the higher the better! A porch swing or a lawn swing invites me to slow down, relax, contemplate.
11. Girlfriends. They do for me what my husband cannot. They understand what it means to be a woman. With them I can share the joys and frustrations of being female.
12. Books. They are my window into worlds both real and imagined that I could never get to on my own. I read for knowledge and I read for pleasure. I read to grow.
13. Computers. What a wonderful tool for communication. What a helpful instrument for organization. A modern marvel – probably the most revolutionary invention of my lifetime.
14. Cameras. How else could you so perfectly capture a memory?
15. Trees. They provide oxygen for us to breath. They provide shade on a hot summer day. They provide shelter for lots of nature’s little creatures. They provide wood for homes and furniture and beautiful works of art. They provide limbs to hang swings from (see #10).
16. Chocolate. Dark, white, milk – I love it in all of it’s many varieties. Mmmmmm! Leave the nuts out, please!
17. Hugs. They speak when words cannot.
18. Christmas. A time to celebrate the giving and receiving of God’s greatest gift to us by giving and receiving gifts from those we love most. The greatest gift of Christmas, aside from Jesus, is the gift of the memories and traditions we make with our families and friends. It is a time of year that brings people together. So many of my favorite things are wrapped up in the traditions of Christmas that I cannot help but love it!
19. Sunsets and sunrises. There is just something magical about them, I can never see one and not be moved. They are a reminder to me that each day is a gift.
20. The night sky. I love to watch the moon in all of it’s phases. I love the way the stars sparkle and wink. I love to watch for shooting stars. I love to identify familiar constellations.
21. Campfires. The perfect way to enjoy the night sky, usually in the company of family and/or good friends. Often involves chocolate, in the form of s’mores.
22. Camping. A way to reconnect with nature, a simpler way of life. Reminds me not to take my “things” too seriously.
23. My pets. They add another dimension of caring to my life.
24. Jigsaw puzzles. At my house, a jigsaw puzzle is a people magnet. I can’t resist a jigsaw puzzle. If one is on the table, I have to stop and work on it. I am not alone – whenever I am working on one, others stop to see if they can place a piece or two (or more!). Conversation usually ensues.
25. Clothes, sheets, towels, dried on the clothesline. They smell so fresh and clean!
26. My washing machine. Washing clothes by hand is one chore I’m really grateful I don’t have to do. My washing machine is probably the household appliance I use most often and am most thankful for.
27. Freedom and the U.S.A. Sometimes I complain about our government and taxes and the way our country is run, but I have to be thankful that I can complain without fear of retribution. I can worship where and how I want to, and send my children to school where they get a good education. So many people live in places where life is so harsh, where women are oppressed, where commodities are scarce, disease is rampant, heathcare unavailable and freedom non-existent. Life is fragile and precious. To have been born in and to live in a land of freedom and abundance is something I should never take for granted.
28. Sore muscles. They remind me that I have a body that functions well (most of the time) and allows me to do some good, hard work. Exercise and physical labor always creates in me a sense of accomplishment.
29. A handwritten letter. They are becoming so rare, that when I get one, I cherish it. It means someone has taken time out their own busy life for me.
30. Water. I can swim in it, bathe in it, clean my clothes and my dishes in it. I can drink it and be refreshed by it. I can freeze it and use it to cool myself down or sooth my aches and pains. The sound of water – the babbling brook, the gentle rain, the lapping of waves on a lakeshore or the crashing of ocean waves, are as pleasant to me as a symphony. Water is miraculous and life-giving.
31. My husband’s hands. He makes a living with his hands, and provides well for our family. They are strong, but gentle. He gives me wonderful back and foot rubs with them! When he holds my hand in his, I know how much he loves me.
32. Singing. Akin to music (# 6), but it is how I participate and become active in the gift of music. I find a sense of connection in singing. Singing brings me joy.
33. The local food co-op. I can get the very best bread, granola, and produce, all from local sources. It is clean, friendly, and cozy. So much nicer than the mega-markets.
34. Home-grown tomatoes. Store-bought ones really can’t compare. I love them best in BLT’s, in salads, or just sliced with salt and pepper. (My husband prefers sugar on his.)
35. Watching my children perform. It doesn’t matter what they are doing. It can be a musical concert, a sporting event, a school play, or they can even just be playing guitar hero – I simply love watching them learn and master a skill. Isaac learned to ride a bike this summer, and I get so much pleasure watching him race up and down the cul-de-sac. Little miracles.
36. Birkenstock sandals. The most comfortable footwear I own. (And I own a lot of footwear!)
37. No-sort recycling. The best thing since sliced bread. Truly.
38. My iPod. I love having almost my entire music library available in this tiny little device. I’m still amazed that something so small can hold so much music!
39. Caller ID. I don’t have to talk to those pesky tele-marketers. (No offense to you if you are one, just know I won’t answer if you call me!)
40. Cell phones. It gives me much peace of mind to know I can always reach my children (because they always carry their phones, as opposed to my husband who only carries his sometimes, and then usually forgets to turn it on!—it’s a generational thing.) I am also glad to have my own to call for help if ever I am in need of it. The constant text messaging my kids do at times does drive me crazy though.
41. Snow days. They are few and far between, even here in Minnesota, but they are so fun just because they are so rare. Nothing beats having an unexpected free day, especially when you can play out in the new snow – make snow angels, build snowmen, and dig snow forts.
42. Eating out. Sometimes it’s nice not to have to cook and clean-up.
43. Worship. Food for my soul.
44. Yoga pants – as comfortable as sweatpants, but so much more attractive and flattering! It is not necessary to do yoga to wear them (although yoga can be quite satisfying also).
45. Magnifying mirrors, reading glasses, bifocals. I find that for my 50-year-old eyes, these come in really handy!
46. Early morning walks in the summer. The sun is up, the air is cool(er), the birds are singing, the bugs are….well, let’s not mention the bugs. Where I live I get to see a lot of wildlife, but the bugs are not my favorite.
47. Prayer. Quiet, contemplative, comforting, reassuring. Sometimes I talk to God, sometimes I listen for His response.
48. Church. My community of faith.
49. Service. The ways in which I give back for all that I have been given.
50. God. Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer, Comforter, Guide, Friend. All I have comes from Him, all I do should be for Him. Without Him, the rest of my list is pretty pointless. I live by His amazing grace.

Minnesota Morning

Last Saturday (July 26), after we rushed home from our annual family vacation, we attended a "farewell" party for a man who has been an instrumental part of the Land of Lakes Choirboys organization since the very beginning. He is leaving the organization to take another job in southern MN, one that affords him the opportunity to build some security for retirement. He did not leave by choice, but by necessity. It is an unfortunate fact that a struggling non-profit organization like the choir cannot afford to provide retirement benefits for it's employees. That being said, John Fitzgerald leaves a legacy at the Land of Lakes Choirboys second to none. While the music is arguably the most important component of the choir experience, in John's eyes the boy always came first. To paraphrase P.J. Fanburg, a former choirboy and the young man who will be taking over many of John's responsibilities with the choir, for John "the quality of the musician was more important than the quality of the music". As you can see from the pictures above, John took the time to visit with each and every choirboy who attended the party -- and there were a lot of them! But that is John's way -- to make each individual boy feel important. He is genuinely interested in the boys as individuals, and not just as corporate members of a remarkable choir. Thanks, John!

In tribute to John, many current and former choirboys gathered to sing for him one last time (although I have no doubt that he will be a frequent visitor and will attend many Land of Lakes Choirboys concerts in the future). The song they sang is one of the choir's "signature" songs -- "Minnesota Morning", by Jeff Brooks. Mr. Brooks has dedicated this song to the Land of Lakes Choirboys, and even attended the farewell party in person! Here is a video I took of the occasion. Grant and Mark both sang. Isaac attended the party, but because we were on vacation when the rehearsal for the song took place (and his choir has not learned this song) he did not feel comfortable singing, so he stayed in the audience and watched along with Art and myself.