56 Degrees!

The exterior Christmas decorations are down, and I took not one, but TWO walks today! The creek was running and the snow melted. It was positively balmy. What a wonderful, belated Christmas gift - especially when just three days ago I awoke to this:

Now don't get me wrong. I love the beauty of a winter wonderland. But I despise the cold! So today's melt was a welcome treat. I hear we are headed back into the deep freeze this weekend. And next week, it's back to the reality of work and school.

What happens when you leave a message on the Miedema answering machine...

....or "Why email is usually your best bet."


I have made it a policy never to publicly bash my husband on my blog. But occasionally something happens that so perfectly illustrates the hard fact that Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus. Here's the most recent such example from our house. It might give you just a bit of insight about why I seem to be losing my mind.

Al: Did you get the message from Susan Janzen?

Felicia: You mean Shannon?

Al: Shannon who?

Felicia: Shannon Janzen.

Al: Whatever.

(Pregnant pause)

Felicia: Well, what was it?

Al: What was what?

Felicia: The message!

Al: Oh, something about your bible study.

Felicia: What about my bible study?

Al: I don’t know. She wanted you to leave something in someone’s mailbox at church.

Felicia: Who’s mailbox?

Al: I can’t remember.

Felicia: Let me listen to the message.

Al: I erased it.

Felicia: Why did you erase it?

Al: Because I figured you knew.

Felicia: How would I have known?

Al: It’s your bible study.

Felicia: That’s ridiculous!

Al: Why do you get so stressed out about everything? Call her back if it’s so darn important.

Ghost Farms

The trip from Des Moines to Decorah usually takes about 3 1/2 hours. On Friday, I lingered along county roads on the way to attend my uncle's funeral, stopping to capture these photos. There are many modern, thriving farms, but increasingly I see more old farms whose buildings are dilapidated or decaying. These are farms long ago abandoned. Once useful barns, bins and even houses are falling prey to the elements, tangled in overgrown vines. What stories do these ancient structures hold? What animals or crops were sheltered here? Did families live and love on this land? Did children, now grown with grandchildren and great-grandchildren of their own, play in these yards?

It seems everywhere I turn I am reminded of the brevity of life - in my work, in the changing of the seasons, in friends and family who have gone before us, and in the demise of these farms. For several years I raced by them on my way to something I was already late for. Not this time. This time I stopped, looked, soaked in the symbolism of these aged buildings. The sky was grey; the sun hidden behind thick clouds. It was cold and windy. Yet there was something rich and warm about these quiet places. I could almost hear the cries of "come boss!" and the ring of the dinner bell to call in the field workers. I could almost smell baking bread and the scent of wringer-washed sheets hanging on the line.

These photos are a fitting tribute to my uncle, Ted, who loved the land and the harvest it provided, and understood that successful farming was a communal effort. He was kind to me when I was learning to drive the baler tractor, and for that I am grateful.

Family Heritage

I'm taking an online class over at JessicaSprague.com about creating a family heritage scrapbook. I'm using Ancestry.com to help find long lost relatives. It's an awesome resource, and you can try it for 14 days free. Anyway, I've spent this entire, beautiful Saturday in my jammies working my way back through census reports and ship manifests and Social Security death records. It's completely addicting! I've encountered a few dead ends, but on one branch of Al's family I've found relatives all the way back to pre-Revolutionary War time! Incredible!

I've found out some really interesting things, but the really interesting stuff is what I probably will never know...

• Like my great grandmother Margaret Freise was 17 when she married my great grandfather, who was 32. She was working as a housekeeper for the priest in St. Lucas when she married John Theodore Schmitt. I wonder what circumstances led to her marrying a man almost twice her age.
• Al's great grandmother went by the name Clara, but the ship manifest from her journey from the Netherlands to New York (she rode in steerage) has her name as Klaasje, and her gravestone at the Greenmound Cemetery in Holmen, WI, spells it Klaaske. In census reports it is spelled Klaske, Klaas, and Clara. Thank goodness her husband's name was Geert, which gave some consistency to the records. She arrived in New York in 1889, two years after Geert. Geert worked for two years on a farm near La Crosse, Wisconsin in order to save enough money to bring his fiance over. I wonder how she travelled from New York to Wisconsin, and how she made the transition to life in a new country.
• I always thought I was 100% German, but my great-great grandfather was named Jean (John) Baptiste Blong and he was from Luxembourg. His parents were Jean Piere Blong and Marie Jeanne Lochrohr. I don't know, but it sounds like there may be some French in my blood as well.
• There are some incredible names in our lineage, like Hazeltine "Happy" Perkins, Comfort Turner, Hopestill Holdridge, and Experience Benton.

I wish we had more photos of our great-grandparents, but I was thrilled to be able to put these scrapbook pages together with the photos we do have. I'll keep hoping to fill in the missing spots some day.

Cross Country 2010

Yes, you are correct in thinking that I'm paying a disproportionate amount of attention to David lately on this blog. But the boy is a SENIOR after all, and a mom only gets to celebrate her son's senior year once, right??

I took the 2 hour trek up to Fort Dodge on Thursday to see David run Cross Country. To my shame, I haven't made it to any meets before this. David is running CC for the first time this year, mostly to stay in shape for wrestling but also to fulfill "other obligations" related to the Iowa rules regarding academic eligibility. I'll let you read between the lines on that one....

It was a perfect evening, and an even more perfect setting at the Lakeside Municipal Golf Course. Georgeous. That's the only word for it. David was amazingly calm as he warmed up...

I'm getting a bit of 70s vibe with this headband and the socks.
Seriously, do you see socks like this on any of the other guys?




















I was so grateful for my friend Lori Lipscolm, who oriented me to the routine. First, you yell and scream as the team takes off... (see if you can find the socks.) They actually shoot a gun off!

Then you run to the other side of the golf course to cheer them on...

Then you line up at the finish line to wait... and wait...

Until you see your kid nearing the finish line, and you nearly pee your pants with excitement!!!

Seriously, David was solidly in the middle of the pack and finished with a respectable time. I was proud. But what really impressed me was the sportsmanship and encouragement that everyone, and I mean everyone, exhibited. There were at least a dozen teams, and not one bad sport. Everyone encouraged everyone, regardless of what team they were on. These athletes were running to compete mostly against themselves, to improve their own personal performance, and what I saw was a collective effort to encourage each one to do his personal best.

What if we encouraged one another like this every day?

As an aside, I caught this photo as the varsity boys finished the final stretch to the finish...

It was definitely worth the drive.



You Can Lead a Horse to Water (or Reflections on Why I May Be a Control Freak)

Certain male members of my family accuse me of being a control freak. I prefer to think of myself as organized and wanting nothing but the best for the people I love. They don’t always see it that way.

Take today. I had a great idea to attend an event that would be encouraging and uplifting, imparting wisdom and opening our minds to wonderful truths. What’s not to love about such an opportunity? When I shared my great idea, it was met with a fair amount of resistance, with words that I prefer not to post in a public forum. It was then that I realized once again an immutable truth was at work…namely that some men reject any idea, no matter how good, that comes from the mouth of their wife or mother. I know this truth; I’ve experienced it too many times to count. Why is it I never learn that the only way to entice some people to do what is good is to make them think it is their idea???

I was contemplating this question in the shower (which is where I do my best thinking) when the horse analogy occurred to me. You see, I’m a nurse (stick with me here!) Specifically, I spent the majority of my career as a critical care nurse. I save lives. Many of the lives I’ve had a part in saving have gotten into their dire situations through some choice they have made to eat too much or too little, smoke, drink too much, drive too fast, engage in careless or reckless behavior….the list is nearly endless.

Here is where the horse analogy fits….at the hospital we force the horse to drink. These people are led to the water (a hospital) where we promptly do the equivalent of anesthetizing them, sliding a tube down their throat, and pouring water into their stomachs thereby saving their sorry butts from the consequences of their actions, at least temporarily. The hope is that they are enlightened to change their choices and go on to live long and prosper. Sometimes it works; often it doesn’t and they go right back to the behavior that brought them to the water in the first place.

Upon this grand insight, I asked God why is it that some people are so closed to great ideas (mine or anyone else’s.) And He brought this scripture to mind:

He [Jesus] replied, “This one can come out only by prayer.” Mk 9:29

Jesus was telling his disciples that sometimes they will make no impact through eloquent or persuasive words, through works of their hands or mighty intellect. Sometime the only thing that will work is prayer. Which, then, begs the question “Why isn’t that where I start??”

I suspect that is the topic of another shower.

Homecoming. And an Anniversary of Sorts.

If you scroll waaaaaay back to the beginning of this blog, you will realize that I started it all two years ago this month. I blinked, and two years was gone. Two Christmases. Two Thanksgivings. Two years of birthdays and anniversaries and school events and sports seasons. And here we are again, at the beginning....

Last weekend was Homecoming. Again. I recorded the 2008 Homecoming on this blog. Somehow I missed 2009 (although there are plenty of photos.) Which underscores the importance of maintaining a consistent record of life. For some, it's a simple diary. For others, video recording. For me, it's photos and scrapbooks and this blog.

This is David's senior year. I'm not sure how he feels about that. In true 17-year-old form, David doesn't think open communication with his parents is very cool right now. As for me, David's senior year has ushered in some familiar emotions: anticipation, excitement, pride, and nervousness; and a few new ones: terror (of bad grades), angst (about his attitude at times); and awe (at how handsome he is - not sure where that came from.) Homecoming marks the first of many "lasts" for David's high school years. As is the Johnston High School tradition, it was a lavish affair.