Author: mdannels3

"Laughing, Loving, Praying" is the story of a happily married couple -- parents of four, three sons, more dogs than I can count, travels, moves, laughter, tears, and most of all.....faith. Faith in God and faith in each other. It is a story of growth, loss, pain, and celebrations. It is us. It is me. It is all because of Him.

Amazing Children . . .

On By mdannels3In UncategorizedLeave a comment

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We are surrounded by amazing kids!

Here are just a few examples . . .

An adorable two and half year old at our Church Thanksgiving Banquet sitting beside his cousin. Picture two plates, two spoons, and two boys sharing equally off both plates. In another family, a four-year-old big brother spent some special time building a car with his mom while dad was at work. In another clan, a kindergarten aged girl at school has a big brother in an upper grade. When she sees him or he sees her, they hurry to one another for a quick hug. Obviously, that brief contact makes their days better.

A little girl who is sick, brave, strong, and courageous talked with her class about what it’s like to stay in a hospital for months at a time and how it feels to receive treatments for a serious disease. Then there is her big brother who takes amazing care of her.

Middle school girls and boys work so hard to find themselves and in the process, they try on all kinds of identities. Or, there was a “new” girl who tried hard to fit in. When she finally stopped trying to be like everyone else and was simply herself, she found amazing friends who liked her quirky humor and gentle spirit.

In a small school in one grade level, more than ten percent of the students had experienced the loss of a parent – diseases, accidents, over-doses, and suicides had all worked to steal too many children of a parent. One of those student’s father died from an illness during the school year. Knowing that Dad was dying, the student wrote an amazing, touching poem about the man and father he had been. Many of us wept as we read it. That student had dreams of going to Stanford – and was certainly bright enough to be successful there. In a conversation in which the student was encouraged to not give up on the dream, his brown eyes filled with tears as he said, “You know that kids from a single parent family never have the opportunities that other kids have, especially when they are raised by a single mom. I’ll have to settle for the University – if I can get a scholarship.”

Shattered dreams at the age of eleven.

A twelve-year-old who walked into her first hour class twenty minutes late most mornings broke down in tears when asked why she was late. She finally explained that her mom was sick and she often had to help her mom get out of bed and dressed before she could come to school. Adult responsibilities for a young girl. She took care of her care taker.

An elementary age boy mowed lawns and saved money to buy his own vehicle. He’ll drive it in a few years.

An 8th grade girl was assigned a first-person book report. She read the book, prepared what she would say, found the perfect outfit to represent her character and headed to the front of the classroom. Panic set in; she started to shake and cry. She stopped and started again. Although performance anxiety was huge, she succeeded. A few years later, she performed in a school play in a lead role. She did it with confidence and grace. How far she had come.

If you aren’t inspired, I don’t know what else I can say.

These aren’t adults accomplishing and becoming their best – these are kids. You know, the ones we teach and train so that they can make the world better.

As a teacher in a public school, as a pastor, as a mother and a neighbor, as a human being walking through my day-to-day life and observing the world around me, I see children every day, everywhere. Children who are dealing with adult struggles and challenges.

I know…these kinds of challenges aren’t new to this generation. Struggles, unfair circumstances, and adult expectations became real in the lives of children years and years and years ago. Even though this has been the reality for decades, it does not diminish the struggle that children face today.

As parents, Mr. Gorgeous and I had to, at times, watch as our boys walked into difficult situations. We would have chosen a different path for them, but because it was their own journey, we stood by and worked to support them in-the-midst of the challenging path they chose.

And, isn’t that what parents do?

Instead of bailing them out, instead of changing their reality, we support them and help to guide them when they feel they can’t solve their own struggle. As they achieve success – or failure – they grow and thrive and become the adults that we want and need to see in this world: those who can take on and face a challenge with determination, thought, and grace. Even more than that though, we watch and support them with prayer as they walk not only in what they’ve learned and what we’ve taught, but in what God reveals to them.

Sometimes the lessons are not the ones we would choose for them. And that’s okay because there is one thing that we as parents, teachers, pastors, and friends should know with great assurance. As much as we love them and care for them, they have a Father in Heaven in who knows them, loves them, and cares for them more than we ever could.

In that, there is assurance. In that, there is peace. Rest in the fact that God is holding them in the palm of His hand.

Pray for the children.

A Different Drum Beat

On By mdannels3In Thinking about Communication, Thinking about God, Thinking about Relationships, Thinking about SchoolLeave a comment

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Two very recent events are on my mind this morning.

The first, a twelve hour marathon session of Parent/Teacher Conferences where I talked to 20 parents. (Had few who didn’t make it.) We looked at “data” also known as test scores. We looked at grades and reviewed goals we had set in October. Parents asked questions and I tried to answer them honestly. A few children were embarrassed as I talked about their chatty ways and I broke a few hearts as I gave parents the lists of missing assignments from their cherubs. And unintentionally, I overwhelmed a parent or two as I suggested some activities that they could engage in at home to help their child. You see, I understand that some single parents schedules are so tight that an extra ten minutes carved out of three jobs, three kids, and managing a household seems impossible to find. And then I listened.

As always, my favorite part of each conference is something that I’ve practiced for the past 17 years as a teacher. It’s the last three minutes when I take time to list the positive qualities of their child. I’ll be honest and tell you that if I’d had a rough week with a student I have to TRY to come up with the good stuff, but usually, I look at the little one’s eyes and all of those great things fill my mind. Things like kindness, caring, finding humor, commitment to hard work, learning how to self-advocate and ask questions, improved manners, and acting respectfully. In my mind, these are the things that matter. Yes, they need to be able to read and write, to add, subtract, multiply, and divide. But seriously, the person inside is the one I love to watch develop.

The second thing that has added to my thought process today was standing at the kitchen window watching snow flakes fall from the sky while smelling the stew in the crock pot. For the most part, today’s snow flakes are small, close together, and falling swiftly to the ground in an organized pattern. As I watched though, I noticed one gigantic snowflake — larger than a quarter, floating to the ground — not falling. In fact, it was dancing in the breeze. As I watched, it moved to the left and then angled to the right. The breeze caught it and pushed it upward about three feet where it began to float back to the ground once again. At one point two breezes must have collided because the snow flake began twirling as it was floating downward. Every time that flake neared the ground, it was pushed upward again to continue its dance. I’m sure it will make it to the ground. It’s course and it’s timing cannot be predicted because of the winds around it.

People — children included — are a lot like that snowflake. Moving at their own pace to become who they are intended to be.

And that’s okay.

I’ve watched as the world increased its speed. We’ve moved from family nights to children moving from activity to activity and falling into bed exhausted. One girl I taught a year or so ago left school and went to gymnastics for two hours. From the gym she traveled to another gym, doing homework and eating in the car as Mom took her to basketball practice. She finished her homework in the car on the way home. When they got home, she would shower, play 20 minutes of video games and then go to bed. The next day was a repeat. Weekends were spent in tournaments for one sport or other — hers or her brothers. When was she a child?

Instead of families eating together, single parents (and other parents, too) move from job to job while a babysitter feeds their kids and sometimes send them off to bed. While vacations are still enjoyed, they are often weekends here or there, rather than a week of a time together, resting, playing, and making memories.

Some of these changes are by choice; some are necessities.

All of these life choices are valid — but all of them have a price that must be paid.

I’ve also watched as we’ve set timelines and timetables for growing up, maturing, acting “like a fourth grader,” becoming an adult, being responsible, and in general, being successful.

Why?

Well, if we listen to the “experts” we will discover that it is through the use of a matrix that we will be able to measure and define growth, performance, maturity, development, or success. In some ways, I agree with this. But in others, I disagree.

I know and understand that there have to be measures, standards, baselines, and expectations. But somewhere in the midst of all of these things, there needs to be room for the snowflake that dances at its own pace as it falls from the sky to the ground. There needs to be room for the young adult who needs a little bit of help — and we need to stop whining about them needing it. (After all, we adults are responsible for creating the mess that they are trying to navigate.) We need to welcome the child who moves at their own pace instead of speeding through life, missing the dancing snowflakes.

As a high school student, I was often told that I marched to the beat of my own drummer. I was relatively confident and self-assured and I didn’t have any problem marching to that different beat. Unfortunately, there are children and adults all around who would like to march to the beat of their drummer, but they are ridiculed and belittled because they don’t fit the matrix. Perhaps they grow differently than we expected them to. Or maybe, they’d rather dance in the breeze than fall in line with the rest of the snowflakes.

Somewhere in our orderly world of expectation, we need to make room for the dreamers, the dancers, and the divas. We need to let their world slow down so that they can grow and go at their own pace — whether they are children or adults.

The Bible says that we should, “Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” (Proverbs 22:6, KJV) While the obvious meaning is spiritual, there is more to it than that. We need to train a child to find value in small things, in time spent together, in learning opportunities, in dancing in the rain, and moving at their own pace — so that they can go their own way.

As the verse says, “…in the way HE should go…” (It didn’t say, “…in the way WE should go…”)

Let’s find a way to combine expectation with freedom so that children — and adults — feel welcome and accepted no matter where they are on the matrix.

Let’s find a way to offer grace so that we can listen to their drum beat instead of trying to make them play ours.

Counting Stars

On By mdannels3In Thinking about Family, Thinking about God, Thinking about Love, Thinking about Relationships, Thinking about SchoolLeave a comment
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“When I consider the heavens…the moon and the stars which You created, What is man that you are mindful of him?” Psalm 8, adapted.

2016 has come and gone. For some, it seems to have been a year of nothing but loss, grief, and pain. For others, a year of change. Still others have celebrated great successes and joys. But most of us have lived through a normal year where both good and bad things have happened in our lives and in the world around us.

My mom was a single mom starting the summer between my fourth and fifth grade years. She taught me a lot of things by simply living her life – she walked her talk and if it is true that character is “caught” as much as it’s taught, I hope that I caught the character with which she lived her life. The things that she taught me can be boiled down to specific sayings that have not only colored my world, but have helped me to become who I am. Among those sayings, there is one that seems to apply to looking back at the old year: “Two men looked out through prison bars. One saw mud; the other saw stars.”

Come along with me as I look for the stars in the past year – and then, maybe, spend some time looking for your own stars.

The year began at home with three of my men – I am so blessed to have a husband who loves me and helps to make an amazing home. Two of our boys, Phil and Ben are with us, and while living with adult sons is sometimes a challenge, it is also something that makes our days brighter and fills them with laughter and conversation.

Nate and Maira traveled out to join us for a week. Wisconsin followed it’s traditional winter pattern and was very cold while they were here, but our hearts were warmed by their presence and our time together. We spent a couple of days with them down in Iowa with family. The memories we have of that time are precious ones.

While teaching in Durand, I enjoyed sunrises and sunsets on my journey to and from work. I experienced safety on the roads and a mechanically sound vehicle with no flat tires. During those nine months, amazing fifth graders – eighty of them – made me laugh and think. They made my days hard sometimes, but most of the time, they made each day fun and better than the day before. The cherry on the top was reading them four historical fiction novels and having them fall in love with classic literature. Of course, there was that one day (maybe it was three or four days, actually), when a secretary gave me a long john with Persian Roll frosting. (My sisters will understand the significance of this delightful event.)

In April, we celebrated the fact that we have had an amazing daughter for four years as Maira and Nate celebrated their fourth anniversary. We love them, miss them, and we are proud of them.

Leading Craft and Chat mornings for the ladies at our church… So yeah, some days they love me – some days they may not, at least not as much… Giggle.

Saying good-bye to my students in May was, as usual, difficult. It was compounded by the fact that shortly after the end of the school year, the decision was made for me to look for a job closer to home. I’m so thankful that many of those students have chosen to say in touch with me on Insta-Gram.

Two weeks spent in Colorado and New Mexico. Time with my dad and second mom, my mom, son, daughter, sister, brother-in-law, nieces and nephews, grand dog Max, Zoey, friends, Scrabble games, the mountains, the desert – time of blessing, joy, and rest. The one down side was not having Mr. Gorgeous there with me.

Being hired to work at Meadowview Elementary as a member of the fourth grade team. It’s an amazing school with an incredible, caring, and learning staff.

Taking Dilly Bars to the firemen and policemen in our town on the 4th of July as a gift from our Church.

Starting school with fourth graders who make me laugh and smile every day.

Having an amazing eye surgeon who wasted no time getting surgery scheduled and saving the vision in my right eye. So incredibly thankful.

A presidential election that – no matter how it turned out – reminds us that we live in a nation where we get to participate in our government, where certain rights are given to us, and where we can say what we want about the political process – even when we should maybe keep our mouths shut.

Thanksgiving – so much for which to be thankful. Celebrating first at school, then at Church and finally at home.

Cold, cold, cold days with wind chill in frigid ranges that remind me to be thankful for warmer days.

A Christmas celebration where I was once again reminded of the hope that we have due to the birth of a tiny baby who didn’t even own a crib, but who laid in a hay trough.

My – how many stars I have for counting.

How about you?

So What Now?

On By mdannels3In Thinking about God, Thinking about RelationshipsLeave a comment
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At this Thanksgiving Season, I wish so much for all of us… (Please forgive my overuse of the word “so.”)

It’s Thanksgiving. Time to evaluate, once again, and note the things for which I am thankful . . . and yet . . .

I’m so tired… Tired of angry words and name calling. Tired of blaming and dire predictions and a sense of separation, competition, and impending doom. I’m so tired of insurance that barely pays and jobs that do the same. I’m so tired of hearing that police officers will not be going home to their families because of misplaced anger and frustration. I’m so tired of knowing that there are children in this world who go to bed hungry. I’m so tired of feeling like no matter what I do to help those around me, it will never be enough.

I’m so tired of being tired.

I’m so heartbroken that I’ve become accepting of the negativity that surrounds me. So heartbroken that those around me have become entrenched in their ideology and beliefs to the point of choosing to not even listen to differing points of view. So heartbroken that there are times when I too have failed to listen to the hurting people who surround me. And yes, I am heartbroken that there are members of our family and others who we’ve loved and cared for, who have gone before us and are not here to celebrate Thanksgiving with us today.

But, I’m so full… No, not of tough turkey or pumpkin pie. Instead,  I’m so full of the blessings that surround me. So full of love that has been a part of my world for my whole life. The love of parents and siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. So filled by the love of a good man who chose me, even though he deserves better, and the love of three sons and a beautiful daughter-in-love. The love of a spoiled rotten dog who thinks I do no wrong — except when I trim his toe nails. I’m so full from the welcoming hugs and smiles of fourth graders who think I’m funny and who work hard to learn from a slightly crazy teacher. And I’m so full from the love of congregations who have allowed us to minister beside them.

Yes, I’m full…so full.

There are so many things that break my heart — things that break God’s heart — in this world today. War, hunger, hatred, anger, fear, homelessness, loss, rejection, bitterness, grief… and more. Still, that is not the whole story, is it?

In this world there is so much more…

There are so many who extend the hand of friendship and grace. There are so many who give their time to make a difference in the world around them, who work to feed the hungry, house the homeless, and comfort the grieving. There are so many who do their jobs as soldiers to help bring war to an end. So many who work to break down walls of hatred and anger to build bridges of friendship. And so many who simply make the world better by giving of themselves.

Yes, there is so much hurting and pain…

Yes, there are so many who work to be the hands of feet of Jesus in a world that is hurting and lost.

So what am I doing to make a difference this thanksgiving? So what are you doing?

So what now . . .

Why Faith?

On By mdannels3In Thinking about GodLeave a comment

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I’m a teacher. I’ve been a teacher for sixteen years and have either taught or subbed for fifteen of those years. This year, I am at a different school teaching fourth grade. I love our school for several reasons, not the least of which is that we truly focus on character and values. Although we are definitely interested in the scores earned by children on their required tests, we are far more interested in the people they are becoming.

To be honest, I’ve never taught anywhere that didn’t feel the same.

Thankfully, our principal and the team that I am on work hard to create opportunities for character development. One thing that our team has chosen to do is have our students create a “Thankful Journal.” As they start their journals, students in my class made a list of 100 things for which they are thankful. Yes. One hundred people, things, and events for which they are thankful. Not bad for nine and ten year old children. In their writing center, they are occasionally required to choose one of the things  on their list and journal why it is something for which they are thankful. Of course, they are kids and some of the things they express gratitude for are, shall we say, a little bit out there. (Seriously, burping?)

I always try to do the same assignments that my students are required to do, so today I sat down with my Thankful Journal and chose a topic.

I chose faith.

As I sat writing, I realized that I needed to consider why I am thankful for my faith. I was considering that idea when the question in my head became, “Why faith?” Sitting at my desk and writing in my journal, I realized that I had never really answered that question.

It’s time.

Why do I choose to live a life of faith? Why, as a young child, did I ask Jesus to forgive my sin and live in my heart? Honestly, did I even understand what I was asking? Why do I give time, money, work, and effort to a relationship with God? Why do I choose to live my life based on who He is and what He has called me to be? Why do I follow Him? Why did I choose Him?

Perhaps the better question is, “Why did He choose me?”

I have chosen to live a life filled with faith in God, the creator of the universe, because I know deep in my heart where my emotions lie, in my mind where reasoning exists, and in my soul where faith abides that He is my God.

A much-loved professor and theologian, Dr. T.C. Mitchell, preached a sermon entitled, “God is Boss.”And that, my friends, is the source of my faith. He is boss.

He made the earth, the planets in our solar system, the galaxies and the stars. He made it all and He controls it, even today. There is much debate over His creation, but no matter how He chose to make it, I believe that He did. In my mind the theological arguments over the means of creation are pointless. To me it is simple, He created the world. Rather than choosing to worship the creation or debate how it came to be, I’ve chosen to worship the creator.

It is a difficult thing to explain faith.

God’s Word does it this way: “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for, and certain of what we do not see.” Hebrews 11:1.

That is the essence of faith. Within my faith, I am sure of the hope that I have placed in God. I am certain that my hope and my faith are well-placed; I have not given them foolishly. I know whom I serve, and He knows me. Even more than knowing me, He loves me.

I believe that God calls us to know Him. He invites us to a relationship with Him. In our lives we will have opportunities to see God at work, and in those moments He will reveal Himself to us if only we seek Him.

“You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last.” John 15:16.

As an eight year old camper at Golden Bell Nazarene Camp Grounds in Divide, Colorado, I asked Jesus to forgive me, to live in me, to be my God and my Father. In some ways I understood that decision, although the ramifications of that choice were fuzzy. By having a relationship with my Heavenly Father, by choosing to live a life of faith, I have made the choice to live a life that pleases Him. Living a life that pleases Him means living the way He calls me to live. Certainly, I am human and I mess up, but God is faithful and He forgives me. He welcomes me back home.

Home. In a lot of ways, my faith is my home base. It’s where I’m comfortable, satisfied, fulfilled. My faith is where I center my life. I center my life in my relationship with Him.

Why do I choose a life of faith?

I choose it because God chose me.

It’s About the People

On By mdannels3In Thinking about God, Thinking about RelationshipsLeave a comment

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My grandmother had breast cancer. Her daughter, my mom, had breast cancer – twice. Let’s face it, my chances of getting cancer are pretty high. I’ve known that for years and do what I can to mitigate that risk.

Recently, I went to the doctor for a check-up. My doctor is associated with the famed Mayo Clinic. We feel blessed to have doctors who are a part of a medical community that is so prestigious and on the cutting edge of medical treatment. As a result of their expertise, they analyze and check family history more than any doctor I’ve ever had. I was a bit disconcerted when, at the conclusion of my physical, due to my family history, I learned my probability of having a heart attack and of having breast cancer in cold, hard, percentages. One is pretty low – the other, not so much. But then I knew that already.

That’s the world we live in, isn’t it?

Everything, it seems, comes down to the numbers. In fact, we measure almost everything. We know the percentage of bran in our cereal, the calories in each bite of food, the amount of octane in our gasoline, our intelligence quotient, our body mass index and weight, how “successful” a teacher is, and who doesn’t know their credit score? Even children have not escaped our apparent need to quantify things. We check their weight and height and place them on a growth curve, we conduct cognitive ability tests, and as they grow, we assign them grades and measure their growth academically.

We measure other things too. How many people attended a concert, a class, a sporting event, or a church service.

When used as a diagnostic tool, as a means of identifying a problem, I think numbers can be good – much of the time. Unfortunately, we now live in a world where metrics are the order of the day.

DISH TV sent out a representative to set up our service. At the end of the service call, the technician told us that he hoped we were satisfied with his service. We said we were. He continued by telling us that we would receive a call to conduct satisfaction survey and that anything less than a 10 would be considered a failing grade by his supervisor. As a result, he hoped that we would be able to give him a “10” rating on a scale of 1 to 10.

Our Ford garage has a similar system. When they call, if we give the service department less than a 4 on a four-point scale, they are reprimanded by their employer. To combat that, they tell customers so that they will be on the service crew’s side and give them the score they require to be considered successful.

What does that say about quantifying satisfaction?

Some numbers cannot be manipulated – but they can be interpreted. There is some truth in the adage that says you can force statistics to support whatever you want them to say simply by the way you explain them. By changing the question asked, we get a totally different perspective. What does that tell us about the information that we acquire from our need to use numbers to analyze and assign value to products and even people? If we can force the data to say what we want it to, what good is the data?

So should we stop collecting data, stop relying on matrices that tell us what and how and sometimes, why?

As much as I might like to say yes, I cannot. And really, the world is never going to stop collecting “data,” is it? No, we need these kinds of numbers – within reason.

There are times when I will write a list of things to accomplish. I measure the success of my day – or the failure – by the number of things that remain to be finished at the end of the day. That really is a form of data isn’t? Oh no! I’ve been assimilated!

The thing that I keep coming back to is the truth that behind most every number is a person, a situation.

If that is true, some questions must be asked.

How can we assume that numbers tell the whole story? What makes us believe that EVERYTHING in life can be quantified? Why do we believe that a lack of numerical growth is synonymous with NO growth – even personal, relational, or spiritual? What can we do when numbers cause us to believe that we are less than God made us to be? How can we help people who have determined their worth – or lack thereof – by the numbers?

You may have noticed that I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this.

It all started when I worked at an insurance company and I struggled to meet the metrics required to get my quarterly bonus. Actually, no. It really started when I found out that professional teachers were going to be graded based on theories advanced by non-educators. I’ve continued to think about this when my students have come to me after a test feeling totally defeated because they couldn’t pass the test, or when they got their report card and they got a 2 instead of a 3 or a 4. (For you old school folks, think D rather than a B or A.) It began to come to head in my heart and my mind when I found out I had a 17% chance of having a heart attack and an 83% chance of getting cancer. And honestly, it solidified in my mind at district assembly for our church when a speaker talked about the things that we track and how it may be time for us to look at things differently. (By the way, I agree with what he had to say – sometimes we track the wrong things.)

Why does success have to be quantified?

Why must growth be measured numerically?

Why can we not see that every number represents a PERSON?

It is imperative that we remember that life doesn’t always go as planned. Illnesses happen. We lose people we love. We hear people we care about fighting. Our night is interrupted – and so is our sleep. Emotions are impacted by circumstances beyond our control. All of these things impact performance. This is part of the danger of trying to quantify success or growth.

Stories of success abound. They surround us every day. Instead of looking at the numbers, it’s time to start seeing the people again. It’s time to see the creation of God – the broken, the hurting, the lost. Time to see those who are serving, loving, caring, and healing. It’s not all about the numbers. We can start making it about the stories, about the people again.

It’s time.

A Place Called Home

On By mdannels3In Thinking about Family, Thinking about God, Thinking about Love, Thinking about Relationships1 Comment
A Colorado Columbine –The state flower always means home to me.
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Home.

What is it? Where is it?

Is our home town the town in which we were born? Is home the place we lived as a child? Is it the place in which we’ve spent most of our life? Or, is it where we live now?

A few weeks ago, I left our home to go to my home. While visiting at one home, I traveled to another home. Then, when I left those homes, I returned to our home.

How can that be?

How can so many places have a claim on my heart, a claim that makes me call each of them home?

My life has been a bit transient – I moved around a lot. With divorced parents, I traveled back and forth between the homes of my mother and father. Later, I attended college in Idaho, Oklahoma, and Colorado. My husband and I married nearly thirty years ago. Since then, we’ve lived in six different states.

I’ve lived in farm houses, mobile homes, apartments, dorm rooms, basement rooms, town homes, country houses, city houses, and one Sears kit home. Some of the places I have lived were lovely houses filled with comfortable furniture. Some were small, cramped apartments with a kitchen barely large enough to turn around. We’ve lived in four parsonages – houses loaned to us by the church we were pastoring at the time. Even now, we are living in a church-provided house. I will be honest and tell you that I look forward to the day when John and I own a house where we can install beautiful mission-style moulding and trim around the doors and windows, a sliding barn door or two with a yard where we can install a fountain flowing into a small, man-made stream that ends in a pond next to a patio with a fire pit. Until then, we are blessed to live in whatever house God provides.

No matter where I’ve lived, it has been a home. It may not have been my favorite home, but it was my home none-the-less.

There are numerous schmaltzy sayings about home:

Home Sweet Home; There’s No Place Like Home; No matter what it looks like on the outside – on the inside it feels like home; Home is where our story begins; Home is where you hang your heart; What I love the most about my home is who I share it with; A house is made of bricks and stone – a home is made with love alone; Family makes a house a home…and the list goes on.

I think the most annoying thing about most of these sayings is that they are true.

There… I said it.

There really is no place like home.

Thirty years ago, I decided that for the rest of my life, wherever Mr. Gorgeous went I too would go. Wherever we lived, I would strive with all that was in me to create comfort and warmth, to fill it with love, and to make it into the home that we would enjoy. If it’s true that a man’s home is his castle, I wanted John’s castle to be the place where he always CHOSE to go. I wanted it to be the place where he felt welcome and cared for — and eventually I wanted to give the same gift to our children. I wanted our home to be the place where he — where they belonged.

And doesn’t that perfectly describe, “home?”

There are some former “homes” that I do not visit. Yet, there are places where I’ve never actually lived that I refer to as home and visit whenever I am able. Why is that?

I guess it goes back to one of the definitions of home – a place filled with love. Some “homes” were filled with love, but the surrounding circumstances were not. So, knowing that I cannot return to that house where I felt surrounded by care, I choose to not visit the places where I felt less cared for. On the other hand, I’ve never lived in my Mom’s apartment, but Mom is there and that means that it’s home.

Okay, I’ve talked in circles which means it’s probably time to land this thing.

So I guess to summarize, home is the place where love lives.

Home is the place where my sisters hug me, tease me, and drink coffee with me. It’s the place where my nieces and nephews sing silly songs from their childhood and make peanut butter benders. Scrabble games – with me usually being beaten – define my mom’s home. It can be lunch with good friends at a place we’ve enjoyed before. It can be sitting on the patio, working in the garage, or feeding the horses that describe home at dad’s. Home at our kids is defined by big black dogs and storytelling with much laughter. When our boys are together, home is shared memories, confessions from childhood, laughter until my stomach hurts, political debate, and hugs. Home with Mr. Gorgeous – well, he’s there – and that place could be anywhere.

Home is the place that God gives us to remind us of His love and care for us. For those of us with happy, love-filled homes, our earthly home is an appetizer – it is helping us to long for our heavenly home.

Someday, when I leave my earthly home, I will journey to the home that He is busy preparing for me. It will be the place where I will spend eternity, where I will be in the presence of Jesus, my Savior. For all of the amazing things that home is to me now, in that day, I will truly be home and I will have no desire to improve it, to build mouldings, or to travel to visit another of my homes. Because, honestly, on that day I will truly, finally be home.

Bucket List

On By mdannels3In Silliness, Thinking about GodLeave a comment

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It all started with Facebook.

Actually, it was one of those long list posts where you are supposed to copy and paste and then check off the things that you have done. It was titled “Bucket List.” It had most of the typical things that these posts have. Here, I’ll show you.

Some of those things that I’ve actually done include: firing a gun; going on a blind date; skipping school; going on a cruise; recently coloring with pencils; swimming in the ocean; paying for a meal with only coins; making prank phone calls; laughing so much I cried; doing something that could have killed me; eating just cookies or cake or ice cream for dinner; being in a car accident; driving a standard car; getting married; driving over 100 mph; living on my own; and riding in the back of a police car. (Please remember, you do not know the whole story.)

And then the others, some of the things I haven’t done: flying in a helicopter; serving on a jury; going water skiing; driving a motorcycle; jumping out of a plane; stealing traffic signs; eating snails; getting a tattoo; nor have I been scuba diving.

To clarify, I actually went on a few blind dates and there is a huge difference between good ones and bad ones – I had both, before I met Mr. Gorgeous, of course. Prank phone calls were a childhood thing. Skipping school – well, I was actually doing a good deed – at least once. The whole cookies, cake, or ice cream thing for dinner, I have been in a hurry and grabbed a couple of cookies for a meal a time or two in my life. Yes, I rode in the back of police car; no, I wasn’t in police custody. And of course, driving over 100 mph…I plead the fifth, however, my husband does occasionally call me Parnelli. (For those of you not as old as we are, Parnelli Jones was a race car driver.)

On the other hand, why does anyone step out of a perfectly good plane that has successfully achieved lift and altitude and is capable of landing safely?

But there was one…

A few days passed and one of the things on the list kept coming back to my mind. Honestly, I’m not really sure why. That thing that keeps replaying in my mind is, “Doing something that you will regret for the rest of your life.”

I have definitely done some things that I regret. Haven’t we all?

But, regret for the rest my life? That depth of regret is not something that I’ve experienced.

Or is it?

Romans 8:28, NIV, says: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

This does not mean that we can do anything – no matter what it may be – and God will magically fix it. It does mean that even in my humanity and my past, the mistakes I’ve made, the sins I’ve committed, the dumb things I’ve done are redeemable by my Heavenly Father. I can be assured that He is in control. I can rest in the knowledge that He can accomplish His will and His purpose even when I fail.

I came to a personal relationship with Jesus when I was seven. However, like most kids, I was stubborn and rebelled a bit, challenged authority, disobeyed, acted disrespectfully, and in general, was an obnoxious teenager. Do I regret the way I acted? Of course.

Yet, some of that behavior, some of those struggles, and some of the choices I made as a result of living through them have helped me to become who God has made me to be. On both of the horrible blind dates I went on, I discovered things that later became nonnegotiable in my relationship – including my relationship with Mr. Gorgeous. While driving more than a hundred miles an hour, I realized how incredibly stupid and irresponsible I was acting – okay, probably after I arrived at my destination. But still, I figured it out.

I guess the reason that I struggle with the idea of regretting something for life has to do with the fact that I trust the Lord. I mean, I fail. I really blow it, but God doesn’t. He takes my stupid mistakes, my arrogant sin, and my self-righteousness, and He redeems it as I confess and give it to Him. He forgives me for my behavior, and even though I have to live with the consequences of my self-centered behavior, He uses what I have done to help me become more like Him.

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

Is this permission to do what I want to do without considering the consequences? Can I do whatever I choose without thinking of how my actions will impact others? Am I able to make decisions about my behavior without evaluating how my relationship with my Heavenly Father will be impacted?

Of course not.

My decisions, as a mature adult, need to be made carefully and thoughtfully. I need to spend time praying and in God’s Word so that He leads those decisions. By choosing to follow Him, I’ve chosen to serve Him and to live in a way that would please Him and reflect who He is. Therefore, my decisions need to be based on who He is and what He expects of me. I cannot do whatever I choose and expect that He will fix it.

Have I done something that I will regret for the rest of my life? Yes. I’ve broken the heart of my Father in Heaven when I’ve chosen my way instead of His. By doing so, I’ve accepted less than His best for my life.

Yes, I do regret that.

LIVING WITH ALZHEIMER’S: a long good-bye

On By mdannels3In Thinking about Family, Thinking about Love, Thinking about Relationships2 Comments

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NOTE: I would never intentionally invade my sister’s privacy. I am telling this with her permission. For her courage to allow me to share, I am extremely grateful. Thank you  — I love you, sis!

His name isn’t important, but he is. He’s a husband, father, son, uncle, brother, cousin, and brother-in-law. In fact, he’s my brother-in-law. I’ve watched as he romanced my sister, raised strong, independent daughters, became a member of our clan, lived as an outdoors man, cooked like a chef, and worked diligently at his chosen profession in the medical field. When my husband was my fiancée, my sister and her family came to spend some time getting to know my guy. I marveled at the instant connection between our two men, their similar humor, their mutual respect. They became friends – and family.

A few years ago, my brother-in-law began to forget things. Don’t we all? But for him, it was more than the norm. At one point, he lined up pictures on his dresser and every morning would go through the names of the ones in those pictures because he was determined to not forget those he loved. He knew that something was wrong and as was his character, he set out to “fix” it. The diagnosis of Early Onset Alzheimer’s ended his career a bit sooner than he had intended. And it changed life as we had known it for everyone who loves him.

This disease is a thief. To begin, it steals in small ways that are barely noticeable, it causes confusion, and frustration. As it continues to affect the mind, it steals recent memory, familiar behaviors, loved personality traits, and independence. In the later stages, it takes the ability to speak and be understood. The disease runs its course in 8 to 20 years, on average.

Years ago, I worked in nursing homes. We didn’t have a great deal of understanding of the disease at that time. To be honest, what I saw was the result of this unforgiving disease. One woman was loved and cared for, but insisted she was being held captive. She would become violent in her attempts to “escape” the prison. Another awoke every morning and dressed in a suit jacket with matching slacks, shoes, and purse. She wandered from room to room to room to conduct “business,” as she had done for years prior to becoming ill. The last, a mother; she waited daily for her daughters to visit, but didn’t recognize them when they did. All three of these ladies were amazing, gifted women. Yet, so much of their lives, their character, and their personality no longer existed.

Americans have gained an awareness of the disease due to the fact that many well-known people have suffered with the disease. The list includes musician Glenn Campbell, actor Charles Bronson, actress Rita Hayworth, author E.B. White, Denver Broncos owner, Pat Bowlin, and President Ronald Reagan. According to the Alzheimer’s Association, 500,000 Americans currently suffer with the disease. It normally strikes those over the age of 65, but early onset has been noted in adults in their 40s.

A few years ago, John and I, some of our kids, along with my sister and her husband drove from Colorado to Galveston, Texas to catch a cruise ship. We made amazing and treasured memories during those nine days. On the way home, we had stopped for the evening, my brother-in-law and I were watching a travel show on TV. The others were busy doing other things. The program showed some scenes from Europe when he looked at me and managed to break my heart with these words that are forever branded on my brain. He said, “You know, they tell I’ve been all around the world, but the hell of it is that I can’t remember any of it.”

My sister has responded to this curve ball with all of the strength and character that she has shown in every difficult situation during her life. She has arranged her life to become the caregiver her husband needs. She has worked to create thousands of memories that she and the rest of the family will treasure for years. The memories have been well documented in photo after photo. Their girls have stepped up to the plate as well. They’ve supported their mom and they continue to love their dad. One of them cooked with him once a month to refresh the memory of all the meals he had prepared. The other created a photo album showing the phases of his family – some he recalls, some he doesn’t. And yes, the rest of the family does what we are able to do. Mostly, all of us just love him.

We love his wife and daughters too. The knowledge of what is to come weighs on their minds and hearts, especially on my sister’s. My concern for them is that they will try to do too much. Because of their love for him, I fear that they will want to do everything and they may forget to take care of themselves. That has also become a job for the family and for their friends. We get to love, pray for, and take care of them.

Frankly, all of us get the blessing of caring for the caregivers – not only the caregivers of one who is experiencing a long-term illness, not only the caregivers who are in our own family, but all of the caregivers who are around us. What other caregivers should we notice? While there are many, allow me to suggest two. Stay-at-home moms who would love to have adult conversations and quiet time alone. When our oldest was born, a lady from our church called and asked if she could come over. I was exhausted and really didn’t want company, but I reluctantly said yes. She came into our apartment, hugged me, kissed my son, sat me down, brought me an iced tea to drink while I fed our son, and then she washed the dishes. When she finished, she held my son and sent me to bed. I napped for about an hour. It was desperately needed – and a tremendous blessing. Next, adult children caring for their elderly parents. The roles are reversed and that in itself creates tremendous stresses that we can help alleviate simply by listening and praying, taking in a prepared meal, running errands, and by loving them. Other caretakers are in our world and if we open our eyes, we will see them.

While each of these situations is difficult, I know personally about the struggles associated with Alzheimer’s because that’s where we are living. The heart breaking part of this particular disease is the sense of loss experienced by those who love the disease’s victim. We watch as he struggles, forgets, changes. Each of his losses is a loss for us as well. With every personality change, loss of strength, forgotten memory – his loved ones have also lost the opportunity to make that particular connection with him. It is a long, painfully slow good-bye. No matter what we think about this disease, the reality remains – we are saying good-bye – one memory, one ability, one day at a time.

 

Strangely wordless . . .

On By mdannels3In Thinking about Communication, Thinking about God, Thinking about Relationships, Thinking about SchoolLeave a comment

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I haven’t written a blog in a couple of months. I’ve wanted to… but for some reason, I’ve been somewhat “wordless.”

It’s not for want of ideas. I’ve had several, some of them were good ones, too.

I’ve considered writing about friendships, Valentines, laughter, politics (don’t worry — sanity soon returned), creativity, options, and a few other things… but every time I started to write, I found myself with a topic, but for some  reason, I was strangely wordless.

Then, I seemed to be surrounded by grieving people.

A young boy lost his father to a tragic illness. A 10 year old girl who lost her mom some time ago welcomed me into her world of pets and interestingly enough, classic rock and opera. Friends have lost loved ones.

Recently, a boy whose mother died a few years ago became upset after missing part of a recess due to a poor decision on his part. I watched as his silent anger became evident in a stiff stance and tension in his arms and neck, in silent tears that poured down his cheeks. I asked God to give me words — and suddenly I knew that He was telling me to choose silence.

So I did.

I turned to my classroom sink, washed my lunch dish, rinsed my coffee cup, and got myself a drink of water, looked back to the small angry boy to see that the tension was starting to leave, but still his silent tears flowed.

And I listened.

I listened to those tears. I heard emotions in the rigidity of his limbs. The things I heard were things that we might expect — thoughts about his life being unfair. Hard questions like, “Why my mom?” I sensed that he needed a hug — from a mom. I also felt disappointment at the fact that he won’t walk into the kitchen to find his mom pulling freshly baked cookies from the oven and pouring a glass of milk — just for him. I hurt with him — and I heard his silence, his pain, and his grief.

I heard him.

It seems to me that there are times when we may be so busy planning our answer, analyzing what we’ve heard, or anticipating how we will try to help someone that we fail to hear the cry of their heart. When words fail us we are finally able to hear — to listen.

One small blonde fifth grader seems to take it as personal challenge to assure that silence is NEVER heard in my classroom. I finally turned to him one day and said, “Don’t feel compelled to fill every silence with noise or movement.”

That night in my devotions, I heard my words echo in my heart — but they were from my Father in Heaven, “Marylouise, don’t feel compelled to fill every silent moment with noise or movement. Sometimes, I am calling you to be wordless so that you can truly listen.”

Even though it isn’t easy for us, there are times when all of us should choose to be wordless — no matter how strange it feels.

In our silence I wonder, what will we hear?