"Come"

From the book "Broken Open," by Elizabeth Lesser. 

"In our sleep, pain, which cannot forget, 

falls drop by drop upon the heart, 

until, in our own despair, against our will,

comes wisdom through the awful grace of God."

~ Aeschylus

Mary Ann "Brainerd" Held

We sent her with a secret tucked in the pocket of her jeans.  For reasons, one might never imagine.  We retold the story, over and over again.  It was fitting that it was told at her funeral, by my cousin Rob.  To me, it epitomizes who she was.

When growing up, my Mom often said Grandpa Brainerd was very strict.  At meal time, you and your 3 sisters, and 2 brothers, had better show up on time.  

It was my Mom's younger sister, given the job of going off in search of my Mom when dinner time neared.  Off she'd run, looking in all the usual places.

But then there was that one time.  When Carol ran home, having not found my Mom.  Her Dad questioned, and she had no reply.  

Where was Mary Ann?

Somewhere past the start of the meal, my Mom came running home.  Grandpa very sternly asked, "And where have you been?"  

Mary Ann, having experienced the sting of Grandpa's discipline measures more than once, knew she had to have the perfect answer.

So she carefully reached in her pocket and pulled out a dollar bill.  "I was babysitting and I got this!" She exclaimed.

"Oh, well then, sit down and eat."  

It was later that mom finally shared her secret with Carol.  Just in case, she was ever late, mom ALWAYS carried a dollar bill in her pocket. 

It was just a couple of years ago that my mom had me buy a notebook for her.  She was making her funeral arrangements.  But instead of just writing down what she wanted, she got busy on her phone.  She called each person she wanted to do something, and asked.  It was all written out in her notebook, what she did want, and what she didn't.

So she wore her favorite jeans.  Her Hershey's Kiss necklace.  Her Concordia College sweatshirt.  She encouraged us all to dress casually and wear Maroon and Gold if we chose- although we didn't spread the word on that very well.

Still, Mom's service was filled with the kinds of things, and people, and stories, that shouted "this is So Mary Ann."  

The beautiful flowers.

My hockey moms.  Nolan and Colton literally beamed when they saw so many of our hockey families showing up.

My brother, Lee, in the middle, with two of his Concordia College friends.  

"Come."

Mom's first line of her journal said, "Rob to speak."  No more needed to be said on that one.

My cousin Rob, has the gift of gab, one might say.  Not only is he a story spinner, but the humor he infuses leaves you gasping for air as your sides split, while your face floods from tears at the same time.     But he also ministers to you, because at the root of everything he does, is his faith in God, which he openly shares.  Oh how he had us on the edge of our pews, soaking in all of his funny, wise and faith-filled words.  I wish I had them to share with you.  But what I do have is the memory of being swept up in the emotion of it all, along with the sound of the distinct crinkle of the plastic kleenex wrappers,  getting a work out with all of our leaky eyes. 

Because we needed faith in unfathomable ways.  Our loss that week was double.  

Because while my Mom, Mary, hovered near Heaven's doors…surrounded by my brother, Lee, myself, and Mom's older sister, Marlene... Rob said, "God must have been whispering "come,"  and not only did Mom listen and go, but 24 hours later so did Rob's stepdad- Ernie.

Yes, our beloved Uncle Ernie, went to be with Jesus, just 24 hours after Mary Ann did.  Marlene, Mom's sister, and Rob's mother, lost her sister one day, and her husband the next day.

Ernie had sat in his recliner, watching basketball on tv, saying "this will be the last basketball game… of the season."  But when Marlene went to awaken him for bed, Ernie's spirit had gone.  And while none of us were ready for him to go, Rob's words brought comfort.  Ernie must have heard Jesus saying, "Come."  

Our family must have heard too.  They came pouring in from all over,  surrounding us with comfort and memories, and love.  Friday and Saturday for mom, and Sunday and Monday for Ernie.

Back to mom's funeral service.  Mom hadn't asked just one person to speak.  Paul was one of Mom's supervisors at Concordia, and very much a kind and loving friend of Mom's for years, was also asked to speak at her service.  Paul wove a story around the 5 things he had learned from my mother.  He also had an understanding of mom's humor,  and shared part of the retirement story they had done for her.  In a training video they interviewed my mom many times.  Then they cut the clip of the infamous words she shared over and over again…

Be busy.  

And-

Stay busy.

And-

Keep busy.

And- 

Get busy.

And-

Just stay busy.

Or something to that effect.  I forget how many times they caught her saying it- but it was many- and so typical of my Mom.

We think in honor of Mom we may have to donate a plaque to Concordia Dining Services, in her memory.  

The "Mary Ann Held- be busy- award."  

Paul went on to pay a loving tribute to Mom in the simple and yet profound way she conducted herself in life. 

After the service, as we lined up in our cars, with Mom leading the way.

We were struck by how the light lit up the beautiful flowers, and a white and warm glow hovered around Mom the entire way to the cemetery,

Then true to my Mom's heart's desire- her "boys" carried her to her eternal resting place- all wearing their Concordia colors.  The newly appointed Captain of the Cobber football team, Rob's son, Eric- wearing his jersey, #9. Nolan wearing his Dad's #26 Cobber baseball warm up, Andrew- also a Cobber football player, Duane and Emil, two co-workers of moms, and then my brother Lee, also a former Cobber football player.  

Despite our sadness, we stood as family, together, in honor of our Mom.  

Her eternal resting place is beautiful.  She is next to our Dad, and right by her Mom and Dad.  Rick's mom is just a few rows over, as well as our nephew Hunter.  

I've been rocked to the core with my Mom's loss.  I'm still in the wee-early stages of mourning.  I just know that my mom was a bridge to so many parts of my life I hadn't realized.  And now its just me.  And the loneliness that sneaks in, when you feel that abrupt disconnection, is truly the journey through "the awful grace of God."  I am convinced- through- is the only way back to the light.

The language of light...

15 minutes.  That's all it takes.

It's Monday morning.

She tells me to uncross my feet and clench my hand.  I'm rusty at this blood draw business.  She goes for the sweet spot, the depression in my right arm that has been stuck repeatedly for blood work over the last 19 months and has yet to disappoint in the amount of blood it produces.  

But the vein rolls, and a small squeak escapes my mouth as she pokes around with the needle trying to salvage the poke.  Its no good.  We move to my left arm.  

She jabs another spot and I squirm with the intense, albeit, brief pain as she tries to elicit a stream of blood. 

 But it trickles and we watch in awe as a bright purple bruise appears instantly.

What is up with my blood? 

As the smooth steel of needle pierces my skin for the third time, I grip the chair with my toes as pain shoots through my arm.  Minutes later we're finished, although she says if they can't use the precious few drops we've squeezed out of me, she'll call me to come back.  

15 minutes ~ is the amount of time for my reality of cancer world to shatter through the serenity I was holding onto.

The days may not be so bright and balmy—yet the quiet and melancholy that linger around them is fraught with glory. Over everything connected with autumn there lingers some golden spell—some unseen influence that penetrates the soul with its mysterious power. ~Northern Advocate

If you are going on a "retreat," you want it to come with a name like Carmel of Mary.  Because it doesn't seem possible upon arriving, that you are really just miles outside of Wapheton, North Dakota at a Carmelite Monastery.

A golden hue of light cast a steady glow over the landscape as we drove up Friday night.  My friend Roxane (through an extension of Mother Joseph Marie) invited me to attend two days and two nights of a retreat with her.  

Autumn in all of its splendor greeted us upon arrival.

We spoke to Mother Joseph, the one time we would see and speak with any of the Sisters while we were there.  The Sisters are cloistered, and spend 7 hours out of the day in prayer.  They are not seen or heard.  

The silence was both staggering, and serene all at once.  

My mind hushed and dialed down, as my eyes feasted on the glory all around.  Words it seems, became unnecessary.  Language was surrounding us in the sounds of the birds, the hum of the wind, the whirl of the leaves,  and the smell of the harvest-tinged earth. 

This heart delicately outlined in the grass was the first thing we saw as we got out of the car.  Love was at my feet, but I couldn't have know, really, it was surrounding us at every moment.

The Carmelite Monastery below.  Roxane and I were made two hot meals daily, and summoned by the ringing of the bell.  The bell also signaled the start of Mass every day at 7 am, and several other times of prayer for the Sisters, beginning at midnight.  

I had no earthly idea how much I'd feel like I was walking back in time when I entered the private guest house we stayed in.  From the green couch, to the blonde wood of the desk, to the gold colored drapes and the rounded arches in the walls, I felt like I was at my Grandmother's house.  

I have to say the house was not just cozy, but spotless.  I mean not a speck of dust or dirt anywhere.  The linens were pressed.  The kitchen countertops were lined with baskets of fruit, fresh baked bread, snacks, granola bars, and tea.  There were eggs and milk in the fridge and home made applesauce.  The simplicity of the rustic setting had such a warmth and charm to it.  I was enchanted.  I was discovering the truth of the saying "love is in the details."  

I picked the blue room as my own.  Reminiscent of my grandmother's home again with the chenille bedspreads and the crocheted pillows- the soft golden sunshine bounced off the blue walls enveloping me in tranquility.  I slept and read for hours.  My gratitude poured out in an endless stream in my journal.

The Sisters subsist off a garden plot, and donations brought in from the community.  The food was so lavish, in such a down- home hospitable way.  We would arrive in the dining room and our food would be placed in a lazy susan that spun around from the kitchen to the dining room.  We couldn't see the Sisters who prepared the food, and they couldn't see us.  They would ring a bell and then our food would appear on the turnstile.  

This lunch consisted of roast lamb with some savory sauce on it, rutabagas, squash, tomato salad, fruit salad and a cookie.  The food was earthy and well seasoned, and mouth watering and so tasty. 

On our last night Roxane delivered a note to Mother Joseph asking permission for us to attend their Compline prayers.  We were welcomed to come inside and listen.  The Sisters sit behind a screened area.  But their voices were so pure, sweet and clear.  Gregorian chant encompassed much of their prayers and I left feeling the love the Sisters share with each other and for Jesus. 

We found that as we left the dining area after dinner, the sun would just be setting.  We would grab our cameras and chase after the sunlight as it danced into the night.

Everywhere we turned, a click and a capture awaited us.  We pored over our photos and delighted in realizing we had so many different ones, while shooting the very same things.  

Everything seemed to be in alignment... 

Towards the end of our stay last night we sipped tea savoring the respite for a few more minutes before we departed.  How would we bring this retreat to an end?  

It turns out God had it all planned out.  The clouds had rolled in while we ate and it had turned overcast and melancholy.  But then I happened to turn and looked back over the trees and the most radiant light streamed through one last time. I stood transfixed, chilled with goosebumps at the timing of this last visual feast.  Light, God gave me light.  He magnified my word and shone it brightly across the land for all to see.  

“When you get to the end of all the light you know and it's time to step into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing that one of two things shall happen: either you will be given something solid to stand on, or you will be taught how to fly.” 
― Edward Teller

I will see Dr. Panwalkar in the morning.  Today's bloodwork will inform the treatment I receive tomorrow.  As I sift through my photos again, peace descends. The light is still shining through after all.   

The calling of the bells...

...it is possible..

Do not let your fire go out, 

spark by irreplaceable spark,

in the hopeless swamps of the approximate, 

the not-quite,

 the not-yet,

 the not-at-all.

  Do not let the hero in your soul perish,

 in lonely frustration for the life you deserved,

 but have never been able to reach.

 Check your road and the nature of your battle.

The world you desired can be won.

 It exists,

 it is real,

 it is possible,

 it is yours.     

Ayn Rand

This is Caroline on the beach of Sydney, Australia.   She has been waiting for the perfect moment in which to take a bracelet photo.  Its there on her wrist.  And do you know what the occasion was that day?  I am using an excerpt from her mother's email to me:  

"Caroline completed her first ocean swim (1.6 kilometers in not so favorable conditions!). She was terrified of this swim as we are pool swimmers and tend to stay in the safety zones when we go to the beach. She put on one of the pink lace bracelets from last year and used it as her badge of courage... most of the morning was an adrenaline filled haze in which she and the other swimmers were simply trying to avoid taking in a mouthful of sea water - but your spirit was definitely felt as she conquered something mind-numbingly terrifying for her."  

Is that not the face of courage?  Of determination, and strength.  Every time one of you who is reading now, shares your stories of triumph, and overcoming obstacles, its truly I who am inspired.  

Way to go Caroline!  You are a true warrior girl!  I hope you always remember the feeling of being terrified, but swimming anyway.  I hope you'll continue to build on this experience and never let fear keep you in the "safe zone," of life. Its okay to be afraid, but just do it anyway. 

I came home from chemo yesterday to this.  Nolan came into my bedroom saying "I let you sleep for awhile, but mom, I KNOW you will want to see this"  He was right.  It was a beautifully wrapped present and hand made card.  And do you see the double meaning?  For a flip-flop loving, beach worshipping, Palm tree adoring, girl- this present of light shone brightly at just the perfect moment.  Thank you Steph!  

I also heard the "cookie fairy" stopped by and the only evidence I have of that is an empty plate!  Obviously, Angie, the cookies were awesome!  These were in addition to brownies from my Aunt Carol, and monster cookies from Heidi last week.  You all know how to love on us! 

The cards and texts and emails just keep coming and hope keeps attaching to them.  Hope, along with gratitude is building a bridge for me... to the possible.  All is grace, and all is possible.  

She picked me...

If there is any great secret of success in life, it lies in the ability to put yourself in the other person's place and to see things from his point of view - as well as your own.

- Henry Ford

Last Friday I had the honor and extreme privilege to meet this beautiful woman. Lezlee Bertie had contacted me before Christmas.  Each year, the company she works for, Evolution1, has a board who selects a few individuals for a program they call "Pay it Forward."  After reading my story in the magazine, On The Minds of Moms, Lezlee nominated me.  And... the board picked me as one of their recipients!  

Lezlee and her husband Sean, who is one of our Moorhead Bantam A coaches, invited us to their lovely home and one of her coworkers, Matt, videotaped a short interview with me.  In fact we all took turns answering some questions.  Matt will edit the piece to be used at their year end party later this year.  

I have to admit, I almost detach from myself in these situations.  I would be a teary-eyed, blubbering mess, if I didn't step back from the emotion just a bit to be able to take it all in.  But I am deeply humbled, touched to the core.  There aren't words enough to describe it.  There are hundreds, if not thousands of worthy individuals out there, fighting their battles, carrying large burdens, suffering in some way.  

And she picked me.  They picked me.  

We think we're going to try again.  To go.  To make memories with our boys.  A trip, to warmth and sunshine later this spring. To gel our family unit, laugh more than we cry, and know, that no matter what the future looks like, we lived it fully and without regret.  

Its more than a check or a generous outpouring of financial resources.  Its life-affirming, breath-giving, giddy-fun producing.  Its soul nourishing.  Healing.

And do you see what else it is?  Just look at the photo and see if you see it, like I did.

It's light.  Visibly emanating from the check, is pure radiant light. 

Thank you Lezlee, and Sean, and Matt, and everyone at Evolution1!  

Rick and I  promptly got up Saturday morning and left for St. Paul to attend the Wild game.  Matt Cullen was being honored for his 1,000th game!  I have so much more to share over the next couple of days... 

Whispers, and a favor...

I'm saying this in a whisper...

I think my mastectomy wound is healing... 


The nurses and I have smiled and cheered a little before, thinking we'd sufficiently had it closed, only for it to burst open after a chemo session.

So this past week, after chemo, I held my breath, and paid it no attention.

Monday I went to the wound care clinic.

It was very anti-climatic.

The nurse simply said, to keep an eye on it, but I didn't need to come back.  I just couldn't go cold turkey however.  We put a wound pack on just to be safe.  But I peeked at it today and its still scabby, no holes, no fluid leaking out.

And just like that, I've graduated from the wound care clinic.  


Small victories.  They get overlooked sometimes when larger hurdles are on the horizon.

Your life is something opaque, not transparent, as long as you look at it in an ordinary human way.  But if you hold it up against the light of God's goodness, it shines and turns transparent, radiant and bright.  And then you ask yourself in amazement:  Is this really my own life I see before me?  ~Albert Schweitzer

Its gotten cold finally.  The ache in my back forewarned me the weather was changing.  There still isn't a lot of snow.  But the sun shone brightly in the sky today.  As I sat waiting for the school bus to come, I noticed how the light streamed through the window, showcasing the flowers mom bought for me.  It was fleeting, but it served to remind me that the larger things on the horizon, are still surrounded by light.  I'm choosing to abide by that thought today.

Can I ask you all a favor?  I've always said, the only thing I can imagine, more difficult than what I am going through, would be to watch one of my children go through cancer.

That is exactly what this family is going through.  The Schoenecker family have a 6th grade daughter just recently diagnosed with liver cancer.  Its a rare cancer, and the prognosis is not very good.  However, their faith is strong, and they are resting in His hands, His love.  If you are so inclined, would you say a prayer for Kennedy and her family?  This is her caring bridge site, Kennedy Schoenecker, if you'd like to read about this spunky and competitive girl yourself.  I know the family covets your prayers!  Thank you!