Wendy's Day

Wednesday was Wendy’s day – one might say.

The outdoor conditions were unseasonably perfect: sunny, dry, warm with a light breeze. My mental conditions were good too: no errands to run, no appointments to attend, no articles to write, no lessons to plan, no dinners to host, no kids’ sporting events to make. The day was MINE. I had one goal: to finish staining the garage siding.

I’d done the west and south sides on different afternoons and planned to take on the east side next. The north side still needed a couple rows of cedar shakes. My husband, who begrudgingly plays carpenter in his spare time, had picked up another bundle but not yet found time to install the final pieces. He surprised me Tuesday evening. Arriving home from his day job, Dan parked his motorcycle, went straight to the bedroom, changed into work clothes and headed outside to finish putting the cedar shakes in place. The sun was setting, so I took his hunting dog for an evening walk. Dusk set in as I returned Moose to his kennel. I walked up the slope to our house and heard Dan say, “I’m done!”

With that, the stage was set for my finish too. I rose early Wednesday morning, saw the boys and Dan off to school and work and set to my own. Having worn out all our foam brushes, I found an old grout sponge and cut it into strips. This would be my coloring tool. I thought: What a blessing to stay focused and improvise rather than give into the distraction of “running into town” for supplies. Even in a pinch, God provides. And as it turned out, this tool was far superior to anything I’d ever used!

With the sponge, I transferred the honey-gold stain from the bucket to the wood. Shake by shake. Log by log. I began to see the wall as a coloring book page, taking on a hue and matching the surrounding landscape in its autumn dress. As my bucket emptied, I thought of the paint-department salesman from whom I’d bought the stain last fall. While I debated whether to purchase one or two buckets for the sale price, he convinced me of two by saying, “Them law-ogs is thir-stay.” He was right. The wood demanded a double coat to bring forth a deep, waxy sheen. It was beautiful. Just like the day.

I had to pinch myself. It’d been a long, long, LONG time since I’d had a whole day to spend outdoors in beautiful weather to do exactly what I wanted to do, with no distractions and no guilt. Today, I decided, I could LET myself be happy. I could enjoy this moment of transformation – the moment I’d waited many years to come – the moment when our place would look complete, at least from the outside. The rooftops would all be red. The trim would all be white. And, the walls of the house and the garage would all be gold. Our place would have a Scandinavian flair. No more run-down, ramshackle hillbilly look.

Shortly before 5 p.m., the moment arrived. I gave the east side the final lookover, wiped away drips, spots and other imperfections, covered the stain bucket, put away tools, threw out two pairs of holey-plastic gloves and closed the garage door. Time was ticking. Reality returned. Noah was home from school. Isaac and Aaron soon would come from cross-country and football practice. I made mini pizzas for supper, walked Moose, showered, grabbed Dan’s “Men Sing” choir folder and two bottles of water, hurried to meet him at church-choir practice, stayed afterwards to make Sunday School plans with the pastor, went home, helped Noah with spelling words, had Isaac pick up Aaron from his friend’s house, and then listened to Isaac unwind about PSEO classes before dropping off to sleep before Dan got home from his second singing session which ended with a cool one at a tavern.

It wasn’t until early Thursday morning that I finally got a first “real look” at our place. As I rolled the garbage can back from the end of our driveway the sun was coming up. Looking ahead at our place, I noticed the red rooftops, the white trim and the golden walls glowed.

Deep down inside, I did too!

Munching Monarch

I was hanging laundry out
on the clothesline today
when I spied
a monarch caterpillar
at work
on a milkweed plant.

This
caterpillar
was
very
hungry

very
large

and
very
busy!







(Yes-those are droppings!)



Can you say: "Corn cob?"

Champion

How does one define a "champion?

Last night, our high-school boys' track-and-field team brought home the State Sectional Meet Team trophy. Fire trucks escorted their charter bus; people lined the town streets; fireworks exploded; and fellow students formed a "London Bridge" arm tunnel to welcome home the first crew in 26 years to qualify numerous top competitors who - together - earned the most team points.

For many, this win was bitter sweet. Individuals and relay teams - that previously performed top-notch - met their match in Moorhead. High winds and miserable weather contributed to the challenge. And for the first time this season, their coach - a teacher/citizen soldier - was unable to secure leave from his National Guard duties which will soon take him to the Middle East.

As the team exited the bus in front of the school, rain showered them as well as congratulations on their team accomplishment. Of their group, two individuals - a pole vaulter and 400 meter runner - and one relay team - the 4x400 meter runners - will advance to the state meet in St. Paul on June 11th.

For me, the most inspiring moment of the evening happened hours later when I tried uploading the video below to my Facebook page. As I waited (and failed) to upload and post the documentary, I scrolled through recent posts, taking in one written by the team's triple jumper:

Section Champs! Firetruck escort into the town, crowds of people lining the streets, first section championship in 26 years, and a sweep of true team, conference, sub-sections, and sections... Overall, I would say a pretty good season, and can't wait to repeat it all next year!

And another by the team's 110 meter hurdler who competed at last year's state meet and until this meet was undefeated this season:

Dang what a season. Conference, true team section, sub section, and section champs! Boy I can't wait till next year! And congrats to Wesley Delong, Cory VanHal, and the 4x4 on going to state! :D

The words - courage, grace, and humility - sprung to my mind. All marks of a True Team CHAMPION!

Congratulations guys!

From the mom of the lead runner of the 4x800 meter team

Like your coach, YOU DO US PROUD!

Lunching with Loons

Noah forgot his lunch today.
I took it to school too late.
Rather than hurry home again,
I took his lunch to the lake.

There I sat inside the car,
listening as vehicles sped by.
But every now -
and again -
I'd hear a mysterious loon cry.

That mournful, haunting
soulful sound echoed
across the water -
between the honks of
Canada geese,
song-bird chirps
and cheeps of chipmunks.

I closed my eyes,
listening to the loon,
and when I opened them I saw -
the mystic bird of black and white -
floating in front of me.

We gazed -
one upon the other -
mere moments and then he dove,
under the water,
gone from view,
appearing and diving thrice more.

Then ripples
and shadows
of the lake
hid him along
the northern shore.

Peanut-buttered
and jellied bread,
pudding in a cup,
a cheese stick
and a juice pouch
never satisfied so much.

Here Comes Peter Cottontail's

Eggstraordinary

Artists!

(Click photo for a closer look)

Practicing the tradition

of dying eggs

as we await the glory

of Easter morning!

Back in the Saddle

In spite of winter's persistence
here in north-central Minnesota,

spring has sprung - at the very least -
in the minds of a couple men in our household.

Sunday afternoon, after changing the oil in his motorcycle, Dan took his pride and joy for a spin, dropped our middle son off at a friend's house, and zoomed out on the season's first run.

From here on out, I shouldn't have wake my husband. As the quote goes:

"The best alarm clock is sunshine on chrome."

He's Back in the Saddle.

This One's for You

Two-and-a-half years ago, I posted an entry called Take Care to Wonder featuring music I thought was lost but discovered was in my possession all along. Every week, that entry receives numerous hits. A few days ago, a reader posted a comment asking me to record and upload the song - one she vaguely remembered - so she could hear it again.

So for all the parochial school children of the 1960s and 70s, This One's for You!

February Meltdown

It was that time

when
the
sun
would
set,

the
moon
would
rise,

and
a
child
would
run
and
play.








Celebrating the February Meltdown here Along Life's Road.

Valentine Vignette

He
brought
her
a
rose.

She
drew
him
a
doodle.








Each wrote the other a verse of valentine affection.

Invigorate:

to
impart
vigor,

strength

or
vitality;

animate.

Defining
winter's

arctic
blast.

Wall of Fame

On our stairwell wall hangs a large boat paddle painted with the words: Fish Stories Told Here.

Granny T's fishing hat, Grandpa Curt's first rod and reel, and Grandpa Roy's 17-pound northern pike all hang there too as conversation pieces in our family history.

Our bassmaster has long aspired to making his mark on this wall too.

While working at the elementary basketball tournament this morning, Aaron told his buddy, "Today I'm gonna spear my biggest one yet."

This afternoon, he did.










With this 38-inch
northern pike
in his grip,

Aaron joins
 the family
Wall of Fame.






(Weight estimated between 13-14 pounds)
(96.5 cm and roughly 6 kg)

Grandparent Gifts

Some of us are blessed by grandparents touching our lives. As a child, I spent hours playing cribbage with my Granny T.

"I'm gonna take those points!" she'd threaten if I missed counting a 15 for two, a pair, run or a go. When I countered, "Yeah, Mom says: You play for blood!" Granny would pipe up, "No, I don't play for blood. I play to win!"

That gift of competiveness stuck. As an adult, I've taught all four of my men - from my husband to my three sons - to play cribbage to win. The long winter nights provide a perfect opportunity to exercise Granny's gift.









However, my son Aaron would argue that the cold winter days provide a greater opportunity to exercise his grandpas' gifts.

During the summer, Paka Al helped Aaron remodel Dan's old fishhouse into a spearhouse.


On those days, when young ALJ can convince his dad or the elder ALJ to spend time on the frozen lake,

he's off lighting
the fire
in the milk can stove,


chiseling
through
the ice,

dropping
the
Christmas
decoy
from
Paka Al

and poising
the birthday
present spear
built by
Grandpa Curt

to
lance
lunkers.







If I am so blessed,
I wonder what legacy
I'll leave my grandkids?

JOY

Train up a child in the way he should go; and when he is old he will not depart from it. Proverbs 22:6

I know. My husband knows. We both benefitted from attending parochial schools while growing up in our Christian families.

This morning,
I returned to
St. Francis Church
for the
all-school Mass.

Listening to classes of elementary students
extend greetings, sing songs,
read scripture, answer questions
and offer petitions in God's house
reminded me why I serve
the youngsters in my own church
and desire to offer similar
leadership opportunities to our youth.


The sound of children learning truly gives JOY.

Returning home and
walking with our dog,
I noticed the earth seemed
to resound that JOY too!

Finding Peace

Make me a channel of your peace,
Where there is hatred let me bring your love;
Where there is injury, your pardon Lord;
And where there's doubt true faith in you.

It was late Sunday evening. Sunday morning was a long way off. How I longed to meet the Lord, hear his living word and listen to a reflection for the day.

I am no stranger to God's house. In fact, I serve there regularly. But rather than feed those around me, I longed to be fed. I longed to know that the path I am traveling is the one in His will. I needed to separate myself from my regular surroundings as I searched for the the answer.

That's when I realized: I am blessed. I live in an area abounding in spiritual opportunities. A quick web search revealed a Monday morning worship service held in a church not too far away.

My husband agreed to see our boys off to school while I left to make the 8 a.m. service at a church I'd never visited but was of my childhood denomination.

As I walked through two sets of tall wooden doors, entered the nave, took a back row seat and pulled down a kneeler to pray, I smiled as memories flooded back to me. I thanked God for the opportunity to meet Him in this place of quietude.

That ambiance continued throughout the service - void of all instruments and sung in A capella. The short homily focused on the day's psalm: "You are a priest forever in the line of Melchizedek."

Our young priest informed us that by virtue of our baptism and belief in Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior, we are all priests - not in the same way that he and his superior were ordained ministers - but rather in the sense that we all have the ability to serve the Lord by making offerings to Him. He encouraged us to take our struggles and pain and offer them up to the Lord with fasting and prayer.

That surprising message - coming from a Roman Catholic priest to this struggling Lutheran Sunday School teacher - was the exact reassurance I needed during an unrestful moment in my life and life of the congregation where I serve.

I walked out of the service giving thanks

• that, for those who seek Him, God truly provides -sometimes in places and ways we never imagined;
• for grasping that no matter where the path leads, I will trust God to light my way;
• and mostly for Finding Peace.

Thank You St. Francis for providing hope on Monday, coincidentally, the Feast of St. Anthony!
(Click to read more about this amazing saint.)

Walking

in

His







presence.

The Labyrinth

There
are
times

when I fight
my inherent nature

and try to be

something




I am not.

In those times,
I find myself
wrestling questions

and

exhausting
my energy

on matters

beyond
my control.

When
I finally
let go

and

reassert
myself

in ways
befitting

who I am,

I

find

peace.

A
writer
writes.

A
photographer
makes
images.

Wendy
wanders...

The
Labyrinth

called

Along
Life's
Road.






Happy New Year! May you find peace too.