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Five Years Ago Today…

I’m alway a little reluctant to read the post that Facebook pops on my page titled…two years ago today, or four years ago, or whatever. There are some things I’d rather forget. This past month, images of our Emery have been popping up, taking me back to those early months when we didn’t know what was going to happen.

A few days ago this Blog Post appeared and I felt as if I had written it yesterday. But yesterday was indeed five years ago. Life is very different now, huddles have been crossed, milestones achieved, and we’ve watched miracles happen. It ain’t over yet, buy we are light years ahead of where we were and we’ve all survived!

So here it is…Five Years Ago Today

She’s third generation

If you had been around to witness those times when Austyn and I received positive reports on our little Emery, you may have noticed us grab the other’s hand and say, “She’s third generation!”

We are never quite sure how to finish that sentence. You see, Emery is the third generation of female infants who defied statistics and survived. Fifty years ago, I was a placenta previa birth. Odds back then weren’t high. I survived. I have some issues but nothing that has hindered me too much.

Austyn was what we refer to as a Smurf Baby. She managed to get the cord wrapped around her neck 5 times prior to delivery and by the time they untangled her she was blue. She too has some issues but clearly nothing that has prevented her from a very full life.

So Emery makes three. There is a unique bond that I feel with her. Perhaps it is the feeling of fighting for life when you are too little to know what’s happening. Each time we get one of those “what if” reports I find myself whispering to her, “You can do it, you’re third generation and we all make it!”

Emery clearly has a much bigger battle to win and there is no doubt she’ll do it excellently. I will be 50 in February and figure I have 42 more years to overcome my issues. Austyn will be 25 in February and her list of adventures already out does mine. Emery was due in February, however this February we will be celebrating her 3 month birthday. If each generation gets stronger… I can’t wait to see who she becomes…undoubtedly she’ll out do us all!

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Pretzels, Bratwurst and Sauerkraut

Warm, buttery, sweet pretzels made their way into the Oktoberfest menu a few years ago. They were fantastic! In fact, the entire event could have been beer and pretzels and no one would have complained. This is my favorite (and I vote the best) recipe for Pretzels.

Buttery Soft Pretzels  http://allrecipes.com/recipe/24272/buttery-soft-pretzels/?internalSource=recipe%20hub&referringId=2444&referringContentType=recipe%20hub

Be prepared, one batch will never make it. The first batch has a habit of disappearing before the second batch makes it out of the oven.

Pretzels don’t have to be made in the traditional pretzel shapes. Kids love to create their own shapes. We’ve eaten squares, butterflies, triangles and snakes. If you want the traditional knot, it’s trickier than you may think. There again, it’s helpful to have kids helping cause they seem to figure it out faster than the baker!

Regular store-bought pretzels dipped in a variety of mustard is a great accompaniment to your beer tasting table. Yes, beer tasting table. A verity of German beers and small tasting cups creates a great way for future friends to meet.

I looked back at the 2011 Menu and wasn’t surprised that 2015 will be exactly the same!

  • Brats covered with onions and peppers
  • Warm German Potato Salad
  • Apple Caraway Sauerkraut with Sausage

These are our traditional dishes. Dessert always incorporates chocolate.

originally posted 9/23/11

 

 

 

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WWJB

I’m finding myself looking at FB less and less these days and as the election draws closer, may even become estranged from it’s pages. Most recently there’s been a lot of posts about sending illegal aliens back to where they came from. I hope that we don’t get rid of all aliens, because I don’t think the world will last long without Dr. Who!

As far as the children born in this country whose parents have sacrificed all in hopes of gaining a better life for these innocent ones, I pondered the question, What Would Jesus Blog about this? After I chuckled at that thought of Jesus sitting in front of a MAC checking his stats on the recent post and himself, chuckling at the comments, I was reminded of a story…

A group of moms and dads came to Jesus’s disciples and asked if they could bring their children. The disciples said, “NO!” They were thinking of the mess, the noise, the business of Jesus, and the more important people who they needed to make time for.

Jesus got wind of the all this and quickly put an end to it. “Bring the children to me.” A short time later, he sat with them on his knee, rubbing his shoulder, looking into his eyes, and undoubtedly touching his beard.

For those who claim we are a Christian Nation, shouldn’t we follow Christ’s examples? All of them?

If we are afraid that there isn’t room for all the children, perhaps we could renovate some of those giant church buildings into housing. Some are large enough to have a school, medical facility, and cafeteria. They could be self sustaining. Picture it, a large campus built by people who believe in God to serve those in need. Hey, isn’t that what they started out being?

Then there’s this little ditty: Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me: I lift my lamp beside the golden door. Isn’t that what we started out being? Isn’t that what brought all of us here?

If I have to work a little harder to allow a child to have a chance to survive and perhaps make life better for himself and his family, then why shouldn’t I?

I have to believe that those who are so passionately opposed to this are the same ones that if the table were turned, would be working endlessly to get their children into a America – no matter what the cost.

The only difference is – those who are here have already had someone do that for them, and those who aren’t – are trying to.

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Olivia

I’ve spent more time on elementary school grounds in the past week than I have in the past twenty years. Our grandkids have both started school and we get to be a part of their “first week” experience.

Today as Austyn held tightly to Liam’s hand, leading him to Room # 2 which was decorated with owls, Emery and I followed quite a bit behind. If you ever have the privilege of walking hand in hand with Emery, you will quickly realize that she is all about stopping to watch an ant, chase the birds, get a drink, and run down the ramps.

The space between Mom and us grew allowing for a group of children emerging from a classroom to force us to stop. Each student was clutching their math book like it was a teddy bear. We stood and watched their parade. I watched as the teacher emerged, assuming she must be the last and it would be safe for Emery and I to continue.

A few seconds later, a girl burst out of the room, spun on her heels, and skipped down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. I couldn’t help but notice her expression of delight that radiated in the sunshine. Her eyes fixed on the sky. I wanted to hear the music that was most certainly playing in her head.

“Olivia,” I heard the teacher say almost in anticipation of Olivia’s choice of direction. As if the first week of school had already taught her that Olivia would need be guided. “This way,” she instructed. Without pause, Olivia spun around and began to skip down the sidewalk in search of her classmates – still looking up.

I love Olivia. She makes me smile.

I pray that as Olivia grows older, she never looses the courage to be the last one out the door. That she’s not afraid to turn left when everyone else is going right. I hope  she never stops looking up allowing the sun to reflect off her smile. And that she is blessed with teachers who gently guide her.

When the sidewalk was once again safe for travel, I glanced down at my little partner. She had her back to me and was pointing to the sky.

“Neenee, look at the birds.”

“Their beautiful,” I said squeezing her hand. “Come on, Sweetie, we need to go this way,”

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Memorable Moments

Raun 2

Every parent has memorable moments that get tucked away in our minds and heart. I have a file cabinet filled with Raun’s. Today, as he celebrates another year and I think back over his ‘a bit more than average‘ life – it’s the comments that echo through the past:
Two-year-old Preschool Teacher: “We love having him in class, we can actually have conversations with him and he can put all the puzzles together at clean up.”    

“He had a good day today! He only bit 16 times!”                  

Raun 7
Raun 11
Raun spent his first years at Camp Lurecrest, a youth camp tucked away in the Smokey Mountains of North Carolina. In our first summer, I recall several times when life guards would come into the kitchen and ask my permission to take him swimming. “He loves jumping off the diving board, and he keeps his eyes open all the way down to the bottom!” He was one.

During a winter break, the camp installed a six foot, chain linked fence around the pool for insurance purposes. It took exactly two minutes for Raun and his buddy Jonathan to figure out how to get under the fence. The adults stood outside this locked security measure as two two-year-olds ran toward the deep end of the pool. I watched as his life guard buddies from the summer before ran toward the pool, bolting over the fence, just in time to capture two little boys ready to dive in.

Raun 13

“Mom, watch what I can do!” I had just walked out of the bathroom to find this three year old standing on top of our five foot dresser. Before I could take a breath, he sailed through the air and drove onto the bed. “That’s awesome Raun, but please don’t ever do it again.” I’ve been watching and breathless many times since.

Before entering kindergarten, it was recommended that we have him tested. After the test, the young woman who had just spent two hours with the kid walked out of the room and simply said, “Why didn’t you tell me?” He had scored 150 on the IQ test.

“We may have to call the fire department.” It was a Sunday morning and during the sermon, Raun managed to get his head stuck in the back of the chair. Within moments, five ushers stood around us trying to get him unstuck.

“Jeannie, Raun’s half way up the drain spout.” We were attending our nieces birthday party and Raun was attempting to climb up the three story home, from the outside. “That’s nice,” I said. “He’s lived a full life.”

Raun 3

“Raun doesn’t just live on the edge, he hangs off it and holds on with one finger,”  the Camp Director told me after spending a summer with Raun as a lifeguard.

A few weeks ago, Raun introduced us to a gentleman he had met at our local hangout, ManRock. As I shook the hand of someone I assumed was more my peer than Raun’s, he said, “You’re Raun’s mom? He’s a good guy. He’s a Philosopher, Theologian, he’s intelligent, caring and a true gentleman. He’s a real man.”  I couldn’t have agreed more.

Raun 5

Raun 15

Raun 16Raun 10

Raun 8

Raun 9Raun 18

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Falling Well

The tires of the bike refused to make the transition between the dirt path and black top, causing the bike to tumble and Liam to slide face down across the riding trail. The rest of us squealed our brakes and I shouted out, “Oh, Jesus!”

We retrieved him from the ground, wiped the tears and brushed off the pebbles sticking to his elbows and knees as his mother reassured, “You fell just how you were supposed to. You did great!”

I was instantly reminded of a conversation from a few years past of a dozen or so moms sitting around my dinning room table. Each expressing their fears of raising teenagers, each listing the rules they had put in place in hopes to protect their kids from all the evils that lurked around every corner. Each believing they could keep their children for the worlds harm.

“Protect? Wouldn’t it be better to teach them what to do when shit happens?” I thought. I wanted to shout it out, but this wasn’t that kind of group. The conversation in my head continued, “Statistics say that in this group almost half of us have experienced abuse and at least three sexual abuse. Unless you plan to lock them up till you’re dead, they going to encounter bad things!”

Life has edges, it has dangers, it has evils, it has paths that refuse to allow us to transition gracefully. Try as we may, it is impossible to avoid life’s edges. There is no amount of rules that will keep our kids in a protective bubble that they can roll through life in.

“You fell well!” Liam mom’s continued. “Good job!”

You fell well! – what a great statement.

After receiving comfort and congratulations on a fall well done, Liam inspected his bike, straightened his helmet and seat, climbed on board and took off proud of the scratch on his elbow and the fact that he knows how to fall well.

So here is a blessing for those who choose to Fall Well –

When you find yourself face down, sliding across the uneven paths of life; 

May someone be there to help you up, brush you off, and wipe the tears. 

May you quickly regain courage and balance to once again begin moving forward,

May you find your stride quickly and continue on the path.

And above all, may you look back and say with confidence, I fell well!