Hockey Day Minnesota

Take 3 NHL Minnesota Wild hockey players.

Add in two NHL hockey players from our town.

Mix in one big announcement that our town and high school hockey team were chosen as the backdrop for Hockey Day Minnesota 2011, to be broadcast on television, February 12th.

Squeeze in the zeal of our hockey community.

Presto, you have one monumental day.

Such an honor for our town to have two former players represent us so well in the NHL, with a third one to join soon.

Lots of media on hand...

A large crowd in attendance.

Chris Vande Velde, has recently signed to play with the Edmonton Oilers and will report to their AHL affiliate In Springfield, MA.  In the meantime he works out at the rink.  Its an odd juxtaposition to have our young boys running stairs along side the pro players.  How cool would that be as a young player to hang out and be coached by your idols? 

Brian Lee, finished his season last year with the Ottawa Senators playing defense.  We're excited to see where he may land next year.  

Matt Cullen, in an ironic twist was traded from the Carolina Hurricanes to the Ottawa Senators too.  We had two former Moorhead players on the same NHL team!  Matt donated 30,000 dollars to our youth rink to build the outdoor rink where our Moorhead Spuds hockey team will play Hill Murray, February 12th, 2011. 

Brent Burns, defenseman for the Minnesota Wild.  

Colton getting autographs.

Games galore was sponsored by Well Fargo and the National Guard.   Nolan and Colton racing... Colton ended up with a huge burn on his backside... owie...

Nolan and his buddy Caleb racing cars... 

Wells Fargo stagecoach rides!  

What a great day for the State of Hockey!  

I was also in close contact with my mom yesterday. Dad had a good day. He has decided to allow more morphine to be given, which in turn has eased his breathing and relaxed him. He rested and read and listened to his music in comfort yesterday, and listened to our hockey tale at the end of the evening. Your prayers, and kind words and deeds, continue to encourage and humble me...

His presence...

I couldn't figure it out.  What is that, sticking up, from the gutter?  A stick?  A feather?  Another shoe?  Yeah, there's been a  shoe on the roof before... don't ask.








Could this little guy be it?  Where'd the pointy thing go?





I watched...




observed...



leapt for joy when Rick gave me HIS camera with the telephoto lens to use...



Except then this happened...




But later he flew back...





With treasures in his beak...


Comin' in...


for a landing... 

And then he left again...



came back...


left again


Hi Colton... (sorry this has nothing to do with anything, he's just cute.)


Another "present"


And then... suddenly, mystery solved.  Two birds, building... a nest.





But not just any birds.  Mourning doves.



Through a veil of tears I uncovered the symbolism of the appearance of mourning doves...

Mourning doves

The dove is a member of the pigeon family and both hold the qualities of home, security and maternal instincts.

The dove's song is its most distinctive feature. It can be heard throughout the day.

When "Dove" makes an appearance to you it could mean:

Unexpected and unseen support and assistance will come when you need it most.

Travel is often indicated when Dove appears prominantly, and this may include relocation to a new home.

A death, either physical (of someone one knows or is close to) or symbolic (within the individual) may occur and while it may bring grief, there is also quite often a sense of relief and gratitude that suffering has finally ended and peace will soon be at hand.

Even in the Bible, the Holy Spirit is depicted as a dove in the baptism of Jesus.  According to the Bible, when Jesus emerged from the water, a dove from heaven descended upon him.

********************************

If you asked me where God is, in these moments when a life's journey is coming to an end, this is what I have discovered so far...  the signs of his presence, are everywhere. 

It's in the young buck I saw leaping through the grasses down by the river, who stopped, turned his head and looked at me... unmistakable right at me... then bounded off.  

It's in the fury and power of the weather, the umpteen tornadoes that swirled with force and power all around our community yesterday, destroying some, while leaving others unscathed.  It's a stormy day that will remain in the memories of many forever, as well as in the weather history books.   

It's in his eyes, my father's, as he searches my face.  On good days, he is all there, and we talk about every day things like always.  On not so good days, he searches my face for recognition, as if to ask, "Am I still here?" 

It's in the syringes, all lined up in a cup, next to his chair, filled with morphine.  We use them now, to help with his labored breathing at times.  

It's in the cards, letters, facebook messages, food, phonecalls... every. single. prayer.  said in his name, our name.  Especially there, I feel HIS presence. 

It's in these doves who have shown up, cooing their mournful calls, beckoning to places beyond...  while reaffirming the circle of life with each twig they add to their nest, preparing for the arrival of the new life.

The lunch girls

Dear Brynne,


Today you had your first three hour lunch with the girls.  Its a tradition between your mom and I that started more years ago than I can count these days.  The first time your mother and I had lunch together we were probably still in high school and we grabbed fries and a diet coke at Hardees or Mcky D's.  Then suddenly we were in college and started a long standing tradition of grabbing pizza at Godfathers.  For awhile I remember many late nights spent dancing at The Old Broadway, which turned into many early morning breakfasts at Cher's Kitchen.  


Over the years your mom moved away, and then later I did too.  But we both returned home to visit family and always got together for our lunch date over the holidays.  We'd both go back to our towns and resume our lives, collecting and gathering our stories to share with each other the next time we'd meet.


There have been many phone calls, emails and visits in between, but your mom and I have had an innate ability to pick up right where we left off each time we get together.  Its grown much more complicated, this gathering of ours.  Its not just her schedule and mine to juggle any more, but its husbands, and kids and now parents we work around each time you and your family come for a visit.  


Plus our topics have matured along with ourselves.  While we might have focused once on boys and dating and shopping, we now talk about boys, as in our sons, and dating, which we agree we won't let you do till you are at least 30, and shopping... well some things never change.  


But somehow we've managed to remain friends all these years.  As you sat watching us over lunch today, I couldn't help think of all the things we have yet to teach you.  But here's the main thing I want to tell you.  The things worth keeping in life, are the ones we make time for.  


Like your mother and I, and our lunches.  Those lunches have seen us through, engagements and break-ups, weddings and mortgages, funerals and births.   I have no doubt the seeds of hope for a baby girl for your mom, were once whispered over one of our lengthy lunch conversations years ago. 


Oh sure, on the surface, its just lunch I suppose.  But string together all of those hours spent sharing the stories of our lives, and what you have, is the thing worth keeping.  A best friend and a friendship borne over diet coke and french fries, still dreaming about the future and all they will have to share, the next time they have lunch. 


Thanks for lunch girls!!!

Shiny and new

Do you know how happy this sight made me?  Definitely picture worthy to see the entire contents of our refrigerator on the counter.  Can you guess why?





Our trusty fridge that we hauled back from Idaho, with 1 forgotten pint of Ben and Jerry's chocolate brownie ice cream completely forgotten in the freezer... which melted and ran all throughout the interior and then all through the door at the bottom...yes, making a gooey, sticky, mess that I still have remnants of in the grate at the bottom... yes, that fridge is moving out... into the garage... 
and look who moved in... 1 shiny new fridge with french doors and a big freezer drawer with a slot for pizzas.  




Plus when I went to put the food all back in?  I had lots of room for more... which is a good thing since the boys are eating their way through their college fund as I speak.









As if I could get any luckier, look what came in the mail... its a hand made tote bag that Megan at Polish the Stars, sells in her Etsy store.  I won it in a giveaway, but her crafty and clever ideas are worth going to visit for yourself!  Thank you Megan! 

Pepsi Cup 2010

Can you guess...



where I've been?



If I told you I'd been wrapped in a blanket, freezing my rear off, on a sunny 78 degree day? Would you think I was crazy? Cause I felt a bit silly, with my coat and blanket on while my bare toes peeked through in the frigid air. And when I forgot to take my warm coat ensemble off later, I got a few stares at the store.


It's okay, its all good...


Nolan played in the 2010 North American Pepsi-Cup Hockey Tournament with 15 other Moorhead boys all born in the year 2000. They won their last game to finish the tournament in third. See, I'm only a tiny bit crazy after all.

Prayer for a Normal Day...

Prayer for a Normal Day

Normal day,

let me be aware of the treasure you are.

Let me learn from you, love you,

bless you before you depart.

Let me not pass by in quest

of some rare and perfect tomorrow.

Let me hold you while I may,

for it may not always be so.

One day I shall dig my nails into the earth,

or bury my face in the pillow,

or stretch myself taut,

or raise my hands to the sky and want,

more than all the world, your return.

Mary Jean Iron

I saw this quote over at the uber talented Orange County Photog, Tara Whitney's blog.   

What I  would blog about, on a normal day, is not what is on my mind or in my heart today.  I am finding, the longer I try to squelch whatever words are on my fingertips, the longer the rest of my words come to a complete stop. 

So feel free to skip right past reading on these days when I am a "Debbie Downer..."   Just know I am okay, but being real.  I have always turned to the written word to make sense of my world.

But, did you know you all help?  Every heartfelt comment or email brings a measure of comfort.  Every offer of help, every offer of listening or just being there, it all helps.  All of the prayers?  I feel Dad, and myself, and my family being covered in prayer. 

In case I forget to tell you, seeing all the ways you show up to tell me I am not alone, it all helps. 

Normal day...

I wake up to find my head is throbbing...  I trudge through the day, breakfast, school bus, shower, hospital, Target, school bus, hockey, baseball, hockey, baseball, bed, bed, bed.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  

I am here.

And I am not here.  I try to soak in the peace and solitude of being alone for one last quiet morning of blogging.  I am preparing.  I've purged our closets, sorted out the drawers, donated all of the too small clothes, that were bought just a little too big, not long ago.  

Its the last day of school.  I long for it, I dread it.   

I've stocked up on sunscreen, bug spray, swim shorts, and gatorade.  We made travel plans.  We're going to hockey camp, baseball tournaments, Junior Golf lessons, swimming lessons.

I am ready.

I am not ready.  

We brought Dad home yesterday.  It is good to be home.  It doesn't resemble home.

Its a house in the midst of being packed up.  We're moving... they are moving.  44 years of life packed up in cardboard.  It seems suddenly so unimportant to be moving.

I am hopeful they will like their new place.  Its big and roomy, with lots of light, and its all brand new.  Even the dishwasher.  It's my mother's first one in 74 years.

I am doubtful.  

He may not want to go.  I don't know if he wants to go to the new place.  He railed against my mother yesterday.  Who is this showing up?  He does not want morphine.  He does not want more nursing care.  He does not want the furniture rearranged.  He doesn't rail, normally, he doesn't rail.  

He wants to decide.  He will decide.  We will let him decide.

Normal day... 

its a new normal...

every day. 

When it doesn't all add up...

When I worked in Psych. one of my responsibilities was to observe behavior of our patients. Not only to watch in minute detail, but to painstakingly document behaviors, conversations, and demeanor each day. If a patient said they were sad, and talked about sad subjects, and cried... there wasn't much more to interpret. Often times however, not all of their words, thoughts, and behaviors matched up so neatly. Sometimes the smiling face in front of you that claimed "I feel fine," had so much unspeakable trauma, that you knew that face was a brave exterior to a crumbling inside.

The pictures from part of our weekend, don't truly match my words. Oh I suppose they do for the boys. They truly relished their time with Grandpa and Grandma at the lake. They had campfires and roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. They relaxed in the hot tub. Colton took pictures with his new camera. Nolan went fishing out in the boat numerous times and caught several fish. They came back to town tired and happy.  But Rick and I only briefly visited the lake.

On the way to the lake on Saturday, my phone rang. It was a panic-stricken voice on the other end. Mom called an ambulance for dad. She had tried to take him out to lunch and he collapsed on the way home.

When I told mom we'd return to town just as soon as we'd dropped off the boys, she didn't refuse our offer.  She sounded so alone, and her words were riddled with guilt.

Rick drove us, quickly back to town.  By the time I arrived at the hospital, dad was awake and talking.  While more stable, he was still on 14 liters of oxygen... his normal requirement is 5.

My mother and I have taken turns staying with him at the hospital.  His spirit remains strong, despite his failing body.  He talks of getting in the boat with the boys to go fishing.  He wants help in the garage from Nolan, in sorting his tools.  He talks of traveling.  But his words don't match what his body is clearly no longer capable of doing.

So we smile and nod.  "Sure, anything you want Dad," we say.  We make light of the fact he is tied to his chair with a monitor that sounds an alarm whenever he moves beyond its confines.  And then the nurses run in and scold him gently, reminding him he has to stay still.  In the meantime, dad gets a sly look on his face and he chuckles as they walk away.

Its true, outwardly we are coping.  We simply don't know where we are at.  So we smile and make small talk, and go on.  And I know I don't match.  At all.  My exterior may be brave, but its on the inside that I am crumbling.