and so i rise...

Mi Ensayo Español Tercera: Una Naración

2012-01-24T07:46:00.000-06:00

24 de enero de 2012

Todo lo que necesita es todo lo que tienes.

El verano pasado, terminé mi primera triatlón. En primer lugar, las competidores nadaron. La gente nada en la parte superior de los demás, por lo que fue un poco miedo. Terminé en 14 minutos. El segundo evento es en bicicleta. Yo se terminó a mitad de camino cuando un hombre me golpeó por detrás. Fue doloroso, sangriento y terrible. Cuando volví en mi bicicleta, me di cuenta de la cadena a se rompió. Entonces, yo lloraba porque yo pensaba que iba a tener que empujar el bicicleta de los últimos siete millas. Fue bueno que un hombre en una Harley se detuviera a ayudar. Estaba sangrando, pero móvil. En el centro, me encontré con la tienda de primeros auxilios. Me dieron vendas y medicamentos para que yo pudiera terminar con un 5K. Yo no podía correr todo el camino, por lo que tomó cerca de 40 minutos para terminar. Lloré de nuevo en el terminar, anque yo siempre he dicho a mis hijos, "no hay llanto en los deportes" como Tom Hanks dijo en la mejor película de béisbol de todos los tiempos, "A League of Their Own". Este año, si no hay una accidente, debe ser capaz de terminar en una hora y 15 minutos. ¿El hombre que me golpeó? Nunca se detuvo a ayudar. Entró en el tobillo y siguió la carrera. Yo tenía 48 hematomas y lesiones. Tomó mis dos mese para recuparse y volver al gimnasio. De un modo extraño, me alegro de haber tenido un accidente. Mis hijos y sus amigos piensan que soy una heroína.

I´m not going to translate this one. It´s too much work. HAHA.

Mi Segundo Escrito Español: El Fin de Semana Pasada

2012-01-17T07:37:00.000-06:00

17 de enero de 2012

El fin de semana pasada viajamos a Córdoba y Úbeda, España. Disfruté las dos ciudades, pero mi favorita era Córdoba. Visitamos muchos lugares en Córdoba, incluyendo el Alcázar y sus jardines, la Judería y la Sinagoga, y la Mezquita. En cada lugar en Córdoba, entramos en un mundo diferente, porque a ciudad es una mezcla de árabes, cristianos y judíos las influencias. Me encantó la Mezquita. No importa donde miré, vi algo indescriptible. Después de visitar la Mezquita, Jennifer y yo paseamos a través de muchas calles estrechas en Córdoba. Comimos en un pequeño restaurante en las esquina y compartimos una conversación sobre muchos puntos de la gramática y aprendimos sobre nuestras familias. Jennifer tenía una buena descripción del subjuntivo para mi. Nos montamos en el autobús a Úbeda y yo cenamos en el restaurante del hotel. En la mesa contigua, un famoso cantante y sus compañeros compartimos las comidas y bebidas (y muchos brindis) antes de un concierto. Una mujer esperaba fuera del restaurante para tener una foto con el cantante. Por la mañana hemos visitado muchos edificios en Úbeda. La Capilla El Salvador era hermosa, pero yo no podía entender la guía. Es una lástima porque él parecía tan bien informado acerca de la capilla. La cena en El Restaurante La Posada de Úbeda fue fantástico. Comí muchas cosas diferentes que he visto, pero tenía miedo de intentarlo. Lamentablemente, yo comí demasiado pan para disfrutar del plato de pollo o el postre. Traté de hacer los deberes en el autobús, pero visto el campo en su lugar. Fue una tarde en la noche.

Last weekend we made a trip to Cordoba and Ubeda, Spain. I enjoyed the two cities, but my favorite was Cordoba. We visited many places in Córdoba, including the Palace and its gardens, and the Jewish Synagogue and the Mosque. In every place in Cordoba, we entered a different kind of world, because the city is a mixture of Arab, Christian and Jewish influences. I loved the Mosque. No matter where I looked, I saw something indescribable. After visiting the mosque, Jennifer and I walked through many narrow streets in Cordoba. We ate at a small restaurant on the corner and shared a conversation on many points of grammar and learned about each other´s families. Jennifer had a good description of the subjunctive for me. We rode the bus to Ubeda and I dined at the restaurant. At the next table, a famous singer and his colleagues shared food and drink (and many toasts) before a concert. A woman waited outside the restaurant for a photo with the singer. In the morning we visited many buildings in Ubeda. The Chapel of El Salvador was beautiful, but I could not understand the guide. It's a shame because he seemed so well informed about the chapel. Dinner at Restaurant La Posada de Ubeda was fantastic. I ate many different things I've seen, but was afraid to try. Unfortunately, I ate too much bread to enjoy the chicken dish or dessert. I tried to do homework on the bus, but watched the fields pass by. It was a late night.

Mi Primer Escrito Español: Mi Casa

2012-01-12T07:26:00.000-06:00

12 de enero de 2012

Nuestra casa está en Monticello, Minnesota, una ciudad pequeña al noroeste de San Pablo. Nuestra oficina se encuentra a cinco kilómetros de nuestra casa. Tenemos seis habitaciones en la planta baja: una cocina, una sala formal, una sala de recrea, una oficina, una sala de lavandería y un baño. En la segunda planta tenemos tres dormitorios y otro baño. Tengo dos habitaciones favoritas en mi casa. La primera es mi cocina. Me encanta cocinar para mis amigos y familia, y muchas veces tenemos invitados. Mi cocina está pintado de rojo, amarillo y verde y un lugar agradable para estar. Mi hijo menor tiene alergias a los alimentos, por lo mi cocina está llena de alimentos orgánicos y saludables. También me gusta mi sala formal. Mi piano es en esa sala, y no hay televisión ni radio. Toco el piano todos los días. El resto de mi casa es organizado, limpio y cómodo, pero no de lujo. Dos muchachos crecieron allí y jugar muchos juegos locos en el interior de la casa; ellos crearon un juego que combina todas las partes más duras de la lucha libre (wrestling), baloncesto y fútbol. ¡Se divirtieron! Y el año pasado, aprendieron a reparar las paredes y pintarlas. Mi casa es normalmente un lugar feliz.

Our house is in Monticello, Minnesota, a small city northwest of St Paul. Our office is five kilometers from our house. We have six rooms on the ground floor: a kitchen, formal living room, rec room, an office, a laundry room, and a bathroom. On the second floor we have three bedrooms and another bathroom. I have two favorite rooms in my house. The first is my kitchen. I love to cook for my friends and family, and we often have guests. My kitchen is painted red, yellow, and green, and is a happy place to be. My youngest song is allergic to many foods, so my kitchen is fully of organic and healthy foods. I also like my formal living room. My piano is in this room, and there is no television or radio. I play the piano every day. The rest of my house is organized, cleany, and comfortable, but not fancy. Two boys grew up there, and played many crazy games inside my houseñ they created one game that is a combination of parts of wrestling, basketball, and soccer. Very fun! And in the last year, they learned how to repair the walls and paint them. My house is normally a happy place.

¿Que puedo decir? Cuando se han limitado vocabularion, usted tiene un número limitado de cosas de dcir.

What can I say? When you have limited vocabulary, you have a limited number of things to say.

Lugares Para Vivir

2012-01-08T07:49:00.001-06:00

Mis casas in Sevilla han sido precioso.

Nuestro primero apartamento está en la Calle Torneo, al cruzar la calle desde el río. Había espacio suficiente para seis y el lugar fui muy eficiente.

La Sala de Familia.

¡Armario de ropa! y las camas... sí, dos camas...

¡ La cocina!

Ahora, vivo en Calle Feria 80. Es un apartamento muy, muy pequño, per me gusta. La ubicación es perfecta para mí.

Una sala, una mesa, una cama, una concina... Tengo todo lo que necesitamos en este pequeño espacio.

Mi Oficina.

Hice mi armario organizado como Joe. Definitivamente necesito esta imagen para demostrar que se puede organizar.

And Now I'm Alone... Ack!

2012-01-06T12:03:00.003-06:00

This morning began at six am. Joe, the boys, and Mariah needed to be up getting ready for their return to the United States. I think they're a little torn: happy to return, but wanting to experience more...

I hope this trip opened doors for them. I hope they experience the world. I hope they forget in a hurry how cranky I was all week. And I hope I didn't just drag them all this way out of selfishness.
We were mostly prepared for departure last night. I'd moved most of my stuff to my new apartment (more to come on this place!) after class while they toured their sea town. I needed one more journey, one made by Joe, Adam, and me last night. We finally went to bed around 0100.

For about a half hour this morning there was "stuff" to do. I did what I could, trying to avoid the thought that within three hours I'd be alone in a major city. Alone in a place where not a single person cared what I did for the rest of the day or whether I made it safely home at night or whether I had toilet paper in the bathroom. Good Lord. What was I thinking?

Finally, they were ready. Adam was annoyed with me - partly because he always is and partly because he stayed up way too long last night. Jakob, I think, was tired and also nervous about me not being home this month. Mariah was tired. Joe. He's tricky. He was ready to go home, but maybe not ready to leave me. He took care of me to the last minute, making sure I had chargers and money and maps with directions to all the good places.

Let me play a flashback. Last week when we arrived, I asked Jakob whether he was nervous about this upcoming month. His response took me aback. I was wondering if he was nervous about his diet without me there, but he has a bigger worry: "I'm not sure. You're not going to be there." I didn't think I was abandoning anything to come here. Of course, I applied before Jakob's diagnosis and Adam's issues.

The dread moment arrived. It was time for them to go. My boys held me with love and something else, something sweet. They want the best for me, but - I think - will miss me. Joe held me too. Many times. This is so hard. I blame it on him. I said, "this is your fault," to which he replied with that look he gives me when I'm stupid. "Had you said 'no' I couldn't go, I wouldn't be facing being alone." Of course his reply was classic Joe, and nonverbal.

I watched from the window as they moved to the street and then as the cab arrived. They loaded their stuff. I heard Mariah shout "goodbye" and Jakob gave me a last sweet wave with a grin. They are on their way home where we all belong.

22 days from now, I'll be there too.

I stayed in the apartment until I was done crying. But for the rest of the day when I saw the back of the taxi, I had flashbacks to my last sight of them in Spain.

And the Second Day...

2011-12-31T17:25:00.004-06:00

What a difference degrees make. It was nice outside today... WAY nice. I was almost sweating in my clothes. I loved the heat of the sun on my face and all that jazz...

We walked a VERY long way today... from our apartment, across the river, around SERIOUS construction, back to our side of the river, and down the street. Then we found the Tours. We bought a river and bus tour, and actually walked to the river tour in time to take it.

WOW. Spain is gorgeous!! And when I'm warm, I love it WAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY more than home. :)

The only problem is, I cannot remember any Spanish. Hopefully that will resolve itself when we have had enough sleep. Jakob took this picture in a sweet little restaurant that served eggs for breakfast. That is really surprising here.

We ate a delicious dish called Tortillas Espana. I´m making this when I come home. The recipe is at http://www.recetasdiarias.com/recetas/huevo/tortilla-espanola/. Muy, muy bueno.

Hasta luego...

Me encanta España

2011-12-30T19:25:00.001-06:00

So. We left Minnesota on Wednesday at 1 pm, and arrived in Chicago 52 minutes later. We left there late, some time after 5. We flew overnight. Adam and Mariah seemed like they had fun and kept busy goofing around, sleeping, and taking turns visiting the somewhat disgusting bathroom. For the rest of us, the flight was challenging; Jakob was markedly uncomfortable and pretty hungry. I'd brought food along for him, but there really wasn't a good way to keep it cold or warm it again, so it was something of a fail. My heart fell when he told me his knee hurt (thankfully by the next afternoon it was feeling good again). He's already dreading the flight home, so I'll have to think of something to send with him to help the boredom. Finally, we arrived in Madrid, Spain at 8-something - late - and had a challenging journey to our next gate for the final hour-long flight to Seville. We reached our Seville destination shortly after ten and collected our luggage.

The first language challenge came right away: using a foreign payphone to contact our guy, Markcus. Thankfully, Adam could help and he said he'd meet us in an hour. Within minutes the second serious challenge loomed: finding a taxi for five without enough language (my mind completely blanked, thanks to fatigue, I think). In Spain, the largest taxi holds four. Once we understood that, we were on our way to Calle Torneo 40 2D Puerto B. The first floor really is up one level from where we Americans consider it. That's more confusing than it should be.

Our Spanish apartment is beautiful. [I'll post pictures later; challenge number three is technology!] It's in a great location, large enough for all five of us, and clean enough to delight me. We left our luggage in the room while the owners finished cleaning it and took our first walk through our neighborhood. And let me say, it's gorgeous here! We found our first tapas bar, and couldn't really understand how it worked at first, but Jakob and I dug in. After we ate, the barkeep counted our toothpics and charged us for them and our drinks. We then navigated a Spanish mercado, purchasing some food for our cocina. We dragged our butts back to our apartamento and most of us slept for a few hours. Joe and I headed out for dinner together, finding a delightful restaurante and enjoying paella. I'm determined to like paella, but I ate too much of some sort of potato salad we had as a first course. Oddly, it was made with tuna, but I found it rustic, refreshing, and delicious. Not so delicious? Spanish wine. Maybe that's not such a bad thing. Jakob opted to sleep through dinner, but spent a large part of the night Facebooking with Caitlin.

Today, our second day here, we journeyed again through la ciudad. I was nervous this morning when Joe said he wanted eggs and pancakes, knowing the typical Spaniard chooses bread and cafe, but we found a delicious, and somewhat more American breakfast at our paella restaurant of last night. Jakob and I had tortillas huevos, Joe had eggs and bacon, Adam enjoyed scrambled eggs, and Mariah ate something sandwichy off the menu. A plus. I might spend way too much time at that restaurant. I took a picture of it, so I could remember the name. There are lots of words on the window, though, so I'm still not sure what it's actually called.

We walked through our neighborhood, shopping and watching a variety of entertainments. It's not clear whether there's something special going on - like maybe the end of 2011? - or if this city is always this vibrant, but it delights on many sensory levels. Joe negotiated a tour in a horse-drawn buggy (coche de caballos) and Mariah had the opportunity for tons of picture-taking. After the tour, we ate at a restaurant in that plaza, and found out that "set" tables with tablecloths, place settings, and bread require ordering full meals, while the "bar" tables allow for snacks, tapas, and drinks. Good lesson, and from a camarero simpático - he took pity on our poor American blank looks and allowed us to order three items from the tapas menu and a postre (Mariah loves tiramasu!).

Joe and I made our way back to our apartamento for our siesta by way of the supermarket. It's a challenge to be on foot and carrying groceries for five, but Joe never complained. I hope I won't be complaining when I'm carrying my food for my solo meals to my next apartamento after my family leaves! The kids shopped more and then returned so Adam could take his siesta. Jakob and Mariah continued their excursion, finding some interesting souveniers; Jakob has a Sherlock Holmes pipe and a mini blow torch, but continues his search for a cane (the little House wanna-be) and a top hat.

The kids opted to say home in the evening, having discovered how to change the language on the tv to English (damnit). Joe and I had a date during which we discovered a new favorite restaurant. Our delightful little waitress suggested food we found delicious and filling. The only thing we didn't consume was something Joe thought was a really oily peanut butter. It was, in fact, pate with sardine oil. I don't know who would want to eat that or exactly how many date nights it's ruined after someone has consumed it, but ewwww. After thanking our delightful little waitress with a hug that resulted in my first Spanish kiss (both cheeks with full contact and a smacking smooch!), we walked across a bridge and saw the Isla Magica, a local theme park. Returning, we continue down our street until we found a place for some dessert. When we returned to the apartment, we realized we only covered a little less than six miles today. It felt like more.

My complaint remains: it's freaking cold here. I'm going to have to send home some of my packed luggage and purchase a few things so I can manage the cold better. I'm even suffering some kind of lung thing, despite my continued litany: "I am well...i am well... iamwell .

My biggest challenge remains as well: techology. I had no idea - maybe a little idea :) - how often I rely on my smartphone in the course of a day. I feel a little I'm navigating blind! Next week I pick up my rented Blackberry. Ha. I'm guessing I'll still be challenged by techology since I've never used a Blackberry.

I'm off to bed a little later than average (it's 2:15 am), but this whole siesta thing is delightful! Joe found the Timberwolves, so he and the kids are watching that. I'm hoping they sleep long enough so I can have a guilt-free run along the bridge and through the park I can see across the river.

Keep us in your prayers! I think there are some big challenges yet to come... I don't want to be alone in this city yet. I'm nervous about this lengua. The rest of the family has a big trip to face to get home. Jakob and Joe have to navigate the return to his strict diet. And I think Jakob's concerned about me not going home (Surprised? I am!).

God bless.

We've made a decision to suspend his challenging diet for the duration of the week, though he'll still avoid some of the worst of the allergens. It's nearly impossible to be in a foreign country without a smart phone translator and eat hypoallergenically.

Feeding Jakob Well

2011-12-22T14:50:00.000-06:00

Here we end yet another year that passed much too quickly, and the departure for Spain looms ever nearer.

I have mixed emotions about leaving for Spain for my month-long class, most of which stem from our efforts to make Jakob well and my concern over his diet when I'm not here.

Jakob's been through a wealth of testing and a number of specialists. It's not really clear whether the specialists agree with each other or don't. We're not even really sure what to call what Jakob has, but we're pretty sure it's a form of arthritis.

Since December 7 - sixteen days ago - Jakob's been eating an elimination (hypoallergenic) diet. Inflammation comes from something, and many, many common foods can be culprits. For thirty days, he follows a diet rich in whole foods presented the way God gave them to us - free of processing, enriching, etc. There's a HUGE list of things he can have, and all of the "cans" are great foods. Still. The list of "cannots" is lengthy - and most of what's on that list is the food Jakob's eaten most of his life.

What are the cannots? Beef. Pork. Dairy products. Eggs. Refined sugar. Gluten. Oranges. Peanuts.

He's been eating better than he ever has. Roasted vegetable soup (suprisingly tastey). Lamb (smelly when cooking, but delicious when well prepared). Salmon. Fruits. Vegetables. Pastas. Rice. Beans. Chicken and turkey. Sunflower seeds. Cashews. Pistachios. And this week I'm working on soups and baked goods I hope he'll like.

Incidentally, if anyone has a good soup recipe that doesn't rely on milk or butter, I'd love to see it.

I'm exceptionally proud of Jakob. It's not easy to completely change the way you eat overnight, and he did. It's not easy to be seventeen and hanging with the guys and maintain a challenging diet (b-dubs doesn't have a single thing on their menu he can safely eat). It's not easy to constantly try new foods when you were happy with what you ate. It's not easy to accept someone's help for something as simple as eating.

And he's doing it.

Know what I think he most misses?

Something convenient to eat. Pop. Fast food. Chips. Toaster strudel. Pizza. Tacos. Freedom to just grab what looks good or smells good without turning to the ingredients list (most often to be disappointed by the second or third ingredient).

But.

He feels good. For the first time since he was a fourth grader, he's not nauseous every day. He has almost completely regained range of motion in his joint. Soon he'll be able to start playing sports again. His eyes shine and his skin glows with vitality. He can sleep at night.

The most surprising result of the last sixteen days is his humble gratitude. The dynamic in our relationship is completely different. He's so appreciative of the efforts we're making to find him food he'll enjoy that he gladly and immediately does what he's asked to do. He's witnessing pure acts of selfless service, and he appreciates it.

So, yes. I'm afraid to leave his diet to anyone else. We are so casual about what we put in our bodies and food preparation, and we can't afford to be with our boy.

For the next few days I'll be perfecting the soup base and freezing a bunch for January. I'll also have him test a number of baked products; if we can find things he likes, I'll freeze a bunch of that too.

When Jakob and Joe get back from their week in Spain, it will be time for Jakob to be adding foods back to his diet. He'll add one thing from the "cannots" every six days and eat it for four days. If he has not negative reactions or returning symptoms, it's a "safe" food and he can continue eating it. The last two food groups he'll add will be dairy and gluten, the most likely allergens. It'll take months to reach a conclusion about what things cause inflammation in his body, but the effort - if it keeps him feeling well - is so completely worthwhile.

Keep Jakob in your prayers. This food things is huge, and part of him having a good quality of life for decades. Still. He has arthritis. That's serious business.

On Thanks-Giving...

2011-11-25T19:20:00.000-06:00

I love thanksgiving.

I love that the world pauses - yes, the world - to give thanks. And we do it wholeheartedly this one time a year.

Here's my thanks-giving list:

I'm thankful..

1. That I have a beautiful family.
2. That my family is growing.
3. That Joe is an amazing husband.
4. That I am strong. Physically and emotionally.
5. That my boys love being at home.
6. That Joe's family is healthy.
7. That Joe's family loves me.
8. That Adam is finding his way.
9. That Jakob is finding healing.
10. That my parents are divorced. (Who would have thought I'd EVER write that?)
11. That I love the people who love Joe.
12. That my family is bigger than just what Joe and I made.
13. That Mari, my DAUGHTER, might be able to join us in Spain.
14. That I have people at work who can fill the gap I make when I go to Spain.
15. That I get to interact with really smart people most days.
16. That my boys and husband are not afraid to love wholeheartedly.
17. That my parents are happy. Even though...
18. That I have the best friends imaginable.
19. That my house is moving into the 2011s.
20. That I am happy.

Hurrrah.

The LOOK!

2011-11-22T09:12:00.000-06:00

For this year's home-grown 92.9 Christmas celebration, I get to do all the really fun stuff that I normally leave until the end of my productions - and then panic when I can't make something work or need help at the last possible moment.

This time, I get to sit and think about what I want things to look like and how I want things to happen during the show. Incidentally, I used to believe "thinking" was something a person did while doing other things. I know better now. We undervalue thinking time to our own detriment.

Most of what happens during a show comes naturally to the performers - especially when they're talented and genuinely enjoy what they do.

This is the first time I'm working on a show with people I don't know. Seeing them move on stage and listening to them make music - well, watching rehearsal raised the stakes for me. These guys deserve something awesome decorating the stage and some inspired direction from me. It's coming...

Check out the "look" that's brewing for this show. It's vibrant and modern. And I think I know how to translate it into props - or at least, Staci does and I know her.

I'm so excited to see how everything looks on December 4.

Home-Grown, but Not Hick

2011-11-21T14:47:00.000-06:00

There is a little gem of a project percolating right now.

Actually, it's more than percolating! It's almost ready to enjoy.

I'm working on a project with Mike Talbott and Spirit 92, and yesterday attended my first rehearsal with the talented people who will perform on December 4.

Let me tell you, working with people as talented as this group is a pleasure. I love hearing something that makes me tingle, and most of what they did yesterday made me tingle.

Interested in seeing a home-grown performance to open your holiday season? Check out this link: http://www.spirit929.com/pages/CMFABanquet.

This time I'm not performing on stage. I'm a behind-the-scenes guy. And I really like it here.

[Major Freakin' Sigh of Re-Fricken-Lief]

2011-11-11T23:07:00.004-06:00

I spent my entire day with Jakob today. What a blessing!

He struggles. His pain is so out of my range, I can't even come close to understanding. I thought I came close a couple times when I had my biking injury last summer. I am now guessing that I had no freakin' idea!

Today, with the advice of people we trust, Jakob had an injection of lidocaine and steroids. His knee was in bad shape and he has a serious disease. He has literally tried every single thing he could try to avoid medication or medical intervention. The worst thing about a disease that involves chronic pain is that the victim suffers pain all the time. Who can live with intense pain every single day?
Jakob has for several years. And today he was freed of it. I witnessed his pain, his treatment, and then the return of "real"Jakob. He was bouncy, nearly giggly, and sitting on the edge of his seat. When I said, "do you want to skip and dance?" he was ready - though the doctor cautioned him to rest this weekend.
God is good. (That is such a small statement!)

After dinner, when we were ready to leave, he looked across the table at me, and told me the most heart-wrenching thing I've heard today: "Mom. It's so nice to not have a dead limb hanging off my left leg."
No, Jakob, I don't. I hope you forget how it feels too.

When It Happened to Us...

2011-11-08T23:04:00.000-06:00

Jakob's been diagnosed with JIA, formerly known as Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis.

He's been suffering the symptoms, I believe, since he was in fourth grade, seven years ago. There's no doubt he has it; the markers are in his blood.

And so we grieve a little for the pain-free life we all deserve to have.

Jakob's going to beat his JIA. He's learning now about what he can eat to feel better, and what he can eat that makes him feel bad. He's learning about what kind of physical activity he needs. He's learning to manage the depression that strikes when the pain won't go away.

He's so, SO heroic. He knows what it means to "Live True."

He will beat this because he wants to play baseball. He wants to play baseball more than anyone else I know wants to do anything. And he's a baseball player to his soul.

Baseball players are a breed apart. Watch how they move and how they stand when they talk and how they touch other people. Then watch them on the field. All the indolent motion, the generous patience, and the attention to detail they exhibit while waiting for that rare moment they will need to fire their engines and make the play is a key to how they live their lives. Those things define Jakob - the indolence, generosity, patience, and focus on detail. He's a ball player by blood.

And he will apply every skill and talent he's learned and earned on a field to beating his pain. He will.

And it will be even sweeter to watch him make the next amazing play.

My Light Bright

2011-10-18T16:50:00.001-05:00

Remember playing with LITE-BRITE?

For several years, I engaged myself in BIG holiday projects.

One year my friends and I recorded a CD of our Christmas favorites. 16 of them, I think. The next year I wrote a Christmas show, Welcome Heaven's Light, using that music. We performed WHL a couple years running, and then I wrote a new show, Journey of the Wise Men, I think it was called, a departure from previous work in that it had a comic twist made possible by the Wise Men. The last concert I wrote was a reworking of the original, and I called it Touching Wonder. In the meantime, I wrote a non-Christmas show, The Feast, to celebrate the gift of good marriages, and a couple other small shows. The five of us also recorded more music, some of it original.

I often describe my history in terms of the elements of light I recall. These years of music were light bright. Energetic. Creative. Dynamic. I felt like I could achieve anything.

I find it easy to be creative when the world is light bright.

For me, it's impossible to create when darkness falls.

And darkness fell slowly, but in a big way. I guess it all began in January 2008 and decisively ended September 25. In The Inferno Dante expresses a similar experience in his life, and it is so beautiful in the original Italian:

Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita
mi ritrovai per una selva oscura,
ché la diritta via era smarrita.

(A gloss for those non-Italians... Nel mezzo ... in the middle / del cammin ... of the path (commonly used figuratively) / di nostra vita ... of our life / mi ritrovai ... I found myself / per una selva oscura ... in a dark wood / ché la diritta via ... for the direct/straight way / era smarrita. ... was lost.)

So I was lost. Floundering. Trying to find my way back to my path. I lost trust in others. I lost my sense of belonging. I lost the energy to create.

I, in fact, lost myself.

In trying to find where I belonged, I made mistakes. I listened to well-intentioned friends. I drove away other friends. Worse, maybe, I stopped making new friends.

And then little rays of light started to shine.

I successfully completed my triathalon. I'm strong.

I created a new music group with Rachel and Brittney, girls I've accompanied for a decade. I make good opportunities for young people.

I taught my staff new tasks, trusting them to do important things; they have lightened my daily burden immensely. I'm able to trust others.

I went back to school. My brain is on fire.

I made new friends and reconnected with old friends. I love deeply and generously.

I applied to a study abroad program and am going to Spain in January. I'm courageous.

I accepted a position managing a new Christmas production with new people and in a new place. I make things happen.

I wrote a new Christmas offering for the teen choir I accompany and the girls and director are excited to perform it in December. I'm creating. Creating!

And you know, the world is again light bright. I can achieve anything.

Praise God.

Synchronicity and the Dread "Perception"

2011-10-11T22:26:00.003-05:00

A very, very wise woman once pointed out that I tend to be aware of synchronicty - when seemingly unrelated people or events have related meaning. On a side note, I would like to see that woman again.

Last week, the ugly word "perception" appeared in six entirely separate instances. In the majority of the occurances, the speaker inappropriately used the word. Seriously. Five out of six.

Misused "perception" is one of my least favorite words. It became a least favorite when I received an email opening with this sentence "Unfortunately, perception is truth." The email was full of enough misperception and untruth, it turned my stomach.

This week the word has been used correctly thrice by three different sources. In two cases, the writer used the phrase "Perception Vs. Reality."

In the third case, my favorite fictional murder cop is discussing a case with a victim's father and her colleague.

Eve: "You're in charge and therefore responsible. That's both reality and perception."

Captain MacMasters: "You're saying this could have come through any of the cases any of my men worked."

Thank you.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Two different things. Two things often at odds with each other.

Reality is about what IS and what cannot be changed. Is. Was. Will be. That's reality.
The world is round. I am 42. I dislike deceit.

Perception is nothing more than information filtered by our lousy senses.

And ok. I'll admit. Some sensory information is good. If something's hot, our sensory system says "don't touch that." Good.

Still. Other sensory information says "don't keep driving forward; you'll fall off the earth." Yeah. Get it?

I'm a Roman Catholic. I love being Roman Catholic. Stripping away individual belief, personal experience, and critical review, I think I could be Roman Catholic simply because the Church "gets" the difference between perception and reality. And you know? So does Jesus.

Got the Goods

2011-10-11T13:11:00.003-05:00

¡Anoche recibí mi calendario para clase de enero! Por lo que he podido hacer mi reserva de alojamiento. Durante la primera semana nos quedaremos aquí:

http://www.sevilla5.com/apartments/plaza-santa-cruz.html.

Espero poder pasar el resto del mes aquí:

http://www.sevilla5.com/apartments/feria/feria-attic.html.

¿Hay una persona en el mundo tan afortunada como yo?

Last night, I received my calendar for my January class. So now I can make my reservations. The first picture is of the place I will stay the first week with my family. The second and third pictures are of the place I will stay during my month of study. Is there a person in the world as fortunate as me?

The schedule:

December 28: Leave for Spain with the Fam

January 3: Students arrive in Seville and Orientation Starts

January 4: Orientation Continues

January 5: Classes Begin (and Joe and I celebrate 21 years of marriage)/Fam Leaves

January 6: Holiday - Día de los Reyes Magos

January 7: Day Trip to Ronda

January 14-15: Overnight Trip to Córdoba y úbeda

January 24: Last Day of Classes

January 25: Final Exam

January 28: Leave for Home
January 29: Arrive at Home
January 30: Winter Semester Begins

Blessings and Raindrops

2011-10-09T23:56:00.002-05:00

Laura Story isn't my favorite musician, not by a long shot.

That's surprising, because it seems like her work is piano-driven and smart, and I tend to appreciate both qualities.

However, I also tend toward more ensemble-ish (of course, that's not a word, but whatever) music, because when good ensembles hit the right blend, or create beautiful harmony, there's nothing in the world that matches the shiver of pleasure I feel. Really. Nothing.

I also think Story's music, though beautiful, is not something the average non-singer can or will just joyfully sing along. It's challenging, not really anthemic (again, I know), and just generally not catchy, for the most part.

As a liturgical musician, I would rarely use her music in a liturgy because, again, most people cannot just sing along.
Separating from my "work" I cannot even say I listen to her music while praying. When I pray, I need music that is in the background of prayer. Her music is not that. It's thinking music.

So, no, not a favorite go-to artist. And yet, she is a beloved musician.

Her songs tell stories and I love stories.

Let me say that again. I LOVE stories. True ones. Bad ones. Fiction. Even stories set to music.

"Blessings" by Story is one of my favorite story songs by this artist. In part, she sings:

'Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
And what if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near
What if my greatest disappointments or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can’t satisfy
And what if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are Your mercies in disguise

What if our blessings really do come from raindrops?

What if the trials and hurts and struggles really are mercies in disguise, and thus blessings?

We pray for blessings.

The Commission

2011-10-06T20:48:00.000-05:00

Because I am a wedding coordinator, I became a Eucharistic Minister.

I don't really care for the reality of putting the Host on a person's tongue. It completely disgusts me - not in every case, just a few.

The Blood is entirely different. You hand the communicant the cup, wipe off their spit, turn the cup, and offer it again. Totally hygienic.

Even knowing that the Body and Blood of Christ is unlikely to spread disease or make people ill, I have trouble giving the Hosts.

Still, if I had to, I would distribute the Hosts. After all, it's Jesus.

Recently I received notice that there was going to be a Commissioning of Eucharistic Ministers and just prior to the Commissioning, we would be attending a retreat. Nifty that the timing of said retreat worked into my incredibly scary, tight schedule. I will also be in town for the actual Commissioning.

In part, Fr Tony's invitation reads: "In this ministry, you must be examples of Christian living in faith and conduct; you must strive to grow in holiness through this sacrament of unity and love."

Well, all righty.

And, having left the one friendship that almost gave me permission to look at others and judge their actions, I know my focus will be on my own committment and not on the presence or performance of others.

Hallelujah.

The Perfect Fit

2011-10-02T19:43:00.001-05:00

Today Joe said he'd like baseball better if I were there. I set aside my plans and went to watch his game. I'm glad I did. A good friend was there.

Joe's known Tim a long, long time. They probably vs'd each other in baseball for twenty or twenty-five years. For several years, they've been going to Florida together. They are the Minnesota Bandits and they have cool unis. When he once asked what it would take to convince me to nag Joe into going to baseball in Florida every year, I said "fan attire." He hooked me up with a sweet "girly" t-shirt in Bandit colors. I'm proud to wear it.
From the first time I met Tim, I've been comfortable with him. He's salt of the earth - a good, good man, a GREAT father, and an amazing husband. Then I met his wife, Beth. She's as good as he is. I loved her from the moment we met. To me it felt like there wasn't even a "getting to know you" phase. We immediately and permanently clicked. She's one of those people who can participate in a conversation from time to time - and sometimes the between time is MONTHS - and is immediately, intimately, perfectly present.
Beth is a wife like me. She gets frustrated sometimes because her husband is ALWAYS playing, thinking about, or facilitating baseball. Like me, she knows it is his best love. Also like me, she would never, ever take his best love from him. We met because our husbands were friends, but we bonded because of the unique way we affirm our husbands. And yet we rarely discuss baseball. Ummm.... forgive me when I say, "Thank God!"
Today Tim and I visited for a few minutes before he left for his next event. I enjoy the moments spent in his company because I am completely and totally relaxed. There are no games, no jockeying, no stress. He told me a story that made me grin and enjoy the husband he is to my friend Beth. God! He loves her. She is as lucky as I am in her choice of lifetime companion. I hope she knows that - I believe she does.
These are the kind of friends God wants for us. People who share the same values without being cookie cutter images of ourselves. People who long for the best for us as we long for the best for them. People who are friends to our marriage and will never, ever propose something indecent or cross the wrong boundaries - ever - because they love us like we love them.

A Man with Two Sons and Jesus-Love

2011-09-27T16:20:00.002-05:00

In this week's Gospel, Jesus shares the story of the man with two sons. He told his eldest son to go work in the vinyard, but the elder did not want to go work and said "no" to his father. He later reconsidered and went to work in the vinyard. Meanwhile, the man told his younger son to go work in the field. He agreed to go, but didn't. The chief priests and elders claim the elder son did his father's will, and Jesus tells them:

[Yeah,] tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God before you. When John came to you in the way of righteousness, you did not believe him; but tax collectors and prostitutes did. Yet even when you saw that, you did not change your minds and believe him.

You know what I wonder?

Why is it always tax collectors and prostitutes? What's so bad about tax collectors? Aren't they just doing their jobs? (This website - http://www.colonialucc.org/worship/sermons/2008/sermon_060808.html - likens tax collectors to first century Palestinian Sopranos. Ha. That strikes me as funny.) I guess the case could be made that prostitutes are only doing theirs as well. Aren't those paying for the prostitutes' services sinners too?

Of course the whole time I'm wondering, I'm missing the point of the parable.

I do get the point: the elders and church leaders considered themselves righteous and above reproach, and they didn't bother to even listen to what John had to say. Meanwhile, the sinners were listening. They may initially have said "no" to their heavenly Father, but then they went out and did right - they chose to follow Jesus.

Fr Tony really nailed his homily again this week. He opened with two thoughts:

I bet each of us can tell stories about how people have let us down - made promises to us and never followed up on them. We put our trust in them and, in the end, they aren't there for us. (Why, yes, that's happened to me.)
But we must acknowledge times that we ourselves have gone back on our word when we have given a half-hearted "yes" to someone or something that we never planned to follow up on. (Why, yes, I have done something like that as well. True, not intentionally - I always mean it when I say "yes" to someone. Still, I'm guilty of failing to follow through.)

He continues, "this parable today offers us good news: sinners can change!" Attending Mass is our new commitment to die to ourselves - leave our own wants and needs behind so we are "going out and serving Him and sacrificing for Him as His disciples." When we say "Amen," we are promising to "see our Lord in our brothers and sisters and respond with a 'yes' when God calls us."

It's a challenge to see the Lord in our brothers and sisters, especially those brothers and sisters who have wronged us. It may be a bigger challenge to see the Lord in the brothers and sisters we have wronged. If we were really able to love the way Jesus wants us to love, it might not be such a challenge. And what kind of love is Jesus-love? It's love that is patient, kind, not jealous, does not brag, is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly, does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, rejoices with truth, bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things. Best of all, Jesus-love cannot, will not, does not fail. Jesus-love is awesomely, wonderfully, eternally perfect.

I fail at Jesus-love sometimes. So do most people. Where I most often fail is in my inability to believe that sinners - and we are all sinners - change. I long for cosmic justice.

Punish the sinners!

Off with their heads!

Clap on the chains!

And yet...

The sinner basically punishes himself. The punishment is built into the very sinfulness. This is what Ezekiel is saying [in Sunday's first reading]. “Listen, you House of Israel: is what I do unjust?” It is not altogether uncommon to hear people complain that God is unjust to them. But God responds that a good person who violates his own integrity to do something evil dies in sin, precisely as a result of the evil he has done.

Our self-seeking, our hate, anger, aggression, violence, jealousy, resentments, our greed and avarice… all lead to isolation, loneliness, hostility with others and often to physical and mental stress and breakdowns. Sin, which is a refusal to respond to God loving us, brings its own inevitable punishment. Our sins often leave wounds which take a long time to heal. God does not need to punish us; we do that very well by our own choices.
(from http://livingspace.sacredspace.ie/oa261g/)

Well, hell. What else is there to say?

The File is Closed!

2011-09-22T10:07:00.001-05:00

Now that I finally know what I want to do when I grow up, things are happening fast.

I have learned enough Latin and Spanish to be dangerous. I have an approved map to follow for the next two years at the end of which I will have a Masters in Spanish K-12 education. And I have completed both the application to the graduate program and the application to the foreign study program.
I encountered two major challenges completing my applications. The first was writing my resume and personal statement. I can't remember another time when I sat longer staring at a blank screen trying to figure out how to define myself and articulate my skills. The second was writing a 300-word statement in Spanish describing my goals for my foreign study. I can type thousands of words about anything in a half hour or less, so the effort it took to write and submit those documents surprised me. But now the applications have been sent and the file is closed. It feels really, really good to write that.
I'm thrilled with my first effort in Spanish composition too. And here it is, my Spanish Goals Essay:

Yo quería estudiar en Europa cuando era joven, pero decidí casarme y tener hijos. Estoy feliz de haber pasado mi tiempo de esta manera. Durante el proceso de planificación para cambiar de carrera, descubrí este programa. Estoy muy contenta que mi familia apoye mi decisión de ir a España en enero.

Quiero ir a España porque la gente es muy interesante y la cultura es antigua. Estoy emocionada de visitar la hermosa ciudad de Seville. Creo que la mejor manera de aprender el idioma es utilizarlo, y creo que voy a usar la lengua con frecuencia mientras estoy estudiando en España. Este verano pasado tome dos clases de español intensivas. Pienso que estas clases intensivas son útiles porque hay mucho tiempo con la lengua. Porque yo soy mayór que la mayoría de los estudiantes y tengo un objetivo para empezar la escuela de posgrado en el otoño, completar los requisitos de español de forma rápida y buena es importante para mí. También, creo que es bueno intentar cosas nuevas, especialmente cuando tengo la oportunidad de aprender acerca del mundo y la gente del mundo.

Mi objetivo más importante es el uso de la lengua española lo más posible entonces planeo interactuar con otros estudiantes y participar en muchos eventos todos los días. También me gustarían ver el país y conocer a gente en diferentes lugares de la escuela, así que voy a ir a la iglesia y disfrutar de las comidas en los restaurantes. Porque me gusta estudiar la historia, voy a visitar diferentes partes de las áreas circundantes y algunos lugares históricos.

Mi esposo y yo hemos recibido a los estudiantes de intercambio a nuestra casa por cinco años. Miré a estos estudiantes jovenes viajar lejos de sus casas y familias con valor. Ahora yo soy la que entra en un país nuevo y experimenta una cultura nueva y personas diferentes. Me siento muy afortunada tener esta oportunidad.

If the Bra Fits...

2011-09-13T10:22:00.001-05:00

I haven't written - again - in another long time.

Life is magnificently busy. Being busy is good for me, I think. It keeps me moving in the right direction. I think sometimes my busy-ness gets a little out of control. Then the work of the day only serves to frustrate me and keep me from being still and reveling in those moments of utter stillness during which I fill my cup.

A funny thought compelled me to login and warm up my rusty blogger fingers. The funny thought? Bras.

For those of us who use them, bras consume a considerable portion of our wardrobe budget. And yet too many of us are trapped in silken or lacy cages that don't fit the right way. If you are a user of said devices, you know exactly what I mean. Worse, when they don't fit right, they mean the rest of our clothes don't fit, we look older and heavier than we are, and we can spend the day pulling up drooping straps or tucking in stray bits of... well, the stuff that belongs inside the bra.

I found a great resource for really great bras, but my friend who fits and sells them is leaving that company because they've changed their product to less great bras. Bummer.

Look at these pictures the company used on their website. What a difference a bra makes.

I'm feeling a little sad. Where, oh where, can I find good bras now?

Here's a case of a company improving its product while leaving it's fans behind.

Hey You..... Yes, YOU...

2011-07-29T00:40:00.001-05:00

I've noticed there are certain people who find themselves beyond the "law," so to speak.

These people commit crimes - crimes truly punishable by the law or crimes punishable only by conscience - and then they forgive themselves and pretend nothing ever happened.

Really?

There are always consequences attached to actions. Always. Why do some people walk away from their own disasters as if nothing ever happened?

I can't do that. I walk away from my own disasters with a burden. I pay the price for my transgressions in many ways - most of which are private. And right now - thankfully - I have nothing on my conscience.

Eleven for Eleven

2011-07-11T21:53:00.000-05:00

I haven't posted in a long time. I haven't stopped writing; I've just been using scraps of paper and a pen rather than blogspot and a keyboard. In the month between the end of the summer session and the start of the fall session, I might convert all those scraps into blogposts, but I might also do nothing like that.

Some observers think I've been doing busy-work as I engage in my first weeks of Spanish. Keep your thoughts to yourself! I wish there more of these activities to do. I need to practice, practice, and practice the language if it's ever going to feel natural to use it. Adam told me that a little further down the road some of the stuff I'm struggling to use and understand will be much more clear; I guess he's probably correct. We only have a foundation in the language thus far, and the more sophisticated elements we've yet to learn will help make sense of those foundations.

Mmmmmm, it feels good to be learning. I feel good in general. Really good. Blessed. So to cap off my night, I'm going to name eleven things I consider blessings. Then I'm going to study flash cards for tomorrow's test.

The eleven things (las cosas):

My parents are finally, finally in agreement on how to end their marriage. That is a blessing for everyone involved.
My husband and son are running together. Five miles a day until school starts.
My sister and I are running together. The Riverfest 5K path. Every Friday at 7 am. Until school starts.
My son is one incredible ball player. So is his daddy.
My family supports my continuing education.
My job is finally just that - a job. No more. No less.
My friends are freaking amazing. The old ones. The new ones. Probably the ones yet to be.
My annual cleaning is almost finished. And it feels nice to be in my homespace.
My to-read stack is dwindling. That tops the list of the eleven worst things on my horizon.
My experiences and what I've learned from them inspire those who really listen.
My body is strong.

Amen.

Estudio!

An Ache in the Brain

2011-06-03T10:29:00.001-05:00

The ache I have in my brain is a grand sort of ache. It reminds me of aching muscles following a successful run. Since I've returned to school and started living healthy, I love how my mind and body feel. Not only do I feel good, I also believe these quests of mine - both the intellectual and the physical - are moral:

And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect. Romans 2:2

This week was the first week of Spanish, so maybe I should have written:

Y no se adapten (no se conformen) a este mundo, sino transfórmense mediante la renovación de su mente, para que verifiquen cuál es la voluntad de Dios: lo que es bueno y aceptable (agradable) y perfecto.

La profesora believes in immersion, apparently. She speaks only Spanish during class. She made an exception to discuss the "business" of the class so she could be sure everyone understood the syllabus and course policies. Aside from that, it's strictly Spanish.

When I get mentally stressed, my heart rate slows, my breathing deepens, and my vision expands. It's been a week of mental stress. I'm taking advantage of the physical side effects - I think they're sharpening my body for Sunday's triathalon. Or something like that.

I've never felt more alive than I feel when I'm learning something new or when I'm pushing myself far out of my comfort zone. Henry David Thoreau said he went to the woods for the same reason I'm back in school and the same reason I'm participating in a triathalon:

I went the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, I wanted to live deep and suck all the marrow of life, to put to rout all that was not life, and not to come to the end of my life, and discover that I had not lived.

The philosophy professor I admired once likened living like Thoreau to standing on her tiptoes and grabbing all life has to offer. Here's to standing on my tiptoes, sucking the marrow out of life!