A Wildfire, a Lab and a Grammy on a Mission…

I’ve decided to throw my hat in the ring for the Grandma of the Year award. I don’t know if it’s an actual accolade, but after a day this summer, I’m convinced I’ve earned my nomination.

It all began with a call from my daughter Sarah. Her Labrador, Jackson, had decided to turn his digestive system into an all-you-can-eat buffet, and the emergency vet was now his temporary residence. A few thousand dollars later, Jackson was ready for pickup at 4:00. Sarah, unfortunately, had a pesky thing called a job and couldn’t get him at the allotted pick up time.

“No problem,” I said, confident in my abilities to handle both grandchild and lab retrieval in one heroic swoop.

Babysitting (or should I say Grammy-sitting) went off without a hitch. My granddaughter, Margot, was peacefully snoozing when my other daughter, the one without a TV, called with some breaking news.

“Have you been listening to the news?” she asked.

“No,” I replied, chuckling because, well, no TV. How was I supposed to listen to the news? Plus, I was a grandma, when the baby napped, I napped.

“Wildfire! Evacuate! You’re within five miles!” she exclaimed.

“Seriously?” I stood in her new home, not a remote cabin but ten minutes from Tacoma. I looked outside—no signs of a fire. But hey, who am I to argue with breaking news? I scooped up the baby, the dog, some files, and extra diapers and we were out the door in three minutes.

So, where does one go when fleeing an unexpected wildfire? Conveniently, it was almost 4:00, so I aimed my escape route toward the emergency vet to pick up Jackson. The GPS took us on a scenic route, carefully skirting the fire. However, our journey hit a snag when we found ourselves on a gravel road—closed for construction.

“I wouldn’t get ticketed for evacuating on a closed road, right?” I reassured myself as we found a different route.

Arriving at the vet, I pondered the logistics. How to handle a baby, a dog, and potential chaos? A quick call to the vet warning them of my impending arrival brought reassurance. We entered the vet like a hurricane, with me holding a baby and a leash of a healthy dog. After a brief moment of confusion, the techs brought out Jackson, who could hardly walk he was so drugged and loaded the dogs. In the distance, smoke billowed.

Now, what’s the logical next step for a Grammy, a baby, and two dogs during an evacuation? Bass Pro Shop, of course. Picture us strolling through the outdoor haven, two dogs and a baby, as if evacuating from a forest fire is just another day’s adventure.

All’s well that ends well. Sarah took her drugged dog home, and Margot, the Golden Retriever, and I enjoyed a post-evacuation glass of wine on the deck. The news reported the fire was under control, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit of adrenaline. While I might not win Grandma of the Year (I’m pretty sure someone out there donated a kidney or birthed their grandchild), I’ll happily accept the runner-up spot. Evacuating with flair—that’s my Grammy style!

Baby Babble – Words Matter…

The sweetest thing happened on my recent vacation to Orcas Island. The whole family was together and it was late at night. My oldest daughter left her precious baby, Margot, with me in our cabin so she and her husband could join their cousins playing games, laughing and telling stories in the big cabin.The young adults had picked a cabin where they could be a little bit louder and not wake sleeping babes. No problem. I settled in to play cards with my son and son-in-law in the quieter cabin while 14 month old Margot slept.

But she wasn’t quite asleep when mom and dad left. She was sitting in her port-a-crib in the back bedroom talking to herself. Exhausted after a day at the beach, she was talking herself to sleep. That wonderful sweet baby babble came drifting from her room. Her voice would get high and then low and she would be loud and then soft. Most of the sounds were repetitive consonant sounds but occasionally she would throw in some vowels to make the babble sound more like actual words.

All of the sudden all three of us clearly heard her say, “I love you.” It wasn’t perfect but she was practicing those three words over and over. “I wuv lou,” and “I lav too,” One of those “I love you’s” came out crystal clear… “I love you.” We all heard it and stared at each other as if to ask, “Did you hear what I heard?” She practiced that phrase over and over for about ten minutes. I think baby Margot has about fifteen other single words in her vocabulary, but on that night she very clearly said, “I love you.”

Why did she say that? Why was she practicing saying those three words? Why? Because she hears them several times a day, every single day. Those words might not have complete meaning yet, but in her little, barely one-year-old mind, those words mean, “you’re valuable, you can trust me, you are safe and you are accepted and welcome.” Baby Margot knew these words expressed an intangible acceptance and joy and that they were important words to hear and say. She learned those words from mom and dad who modeled their meaning to her. These were important words and she knew she wanted to say them too.

The point? Speak lovingly to your children. It matters. Speak words that build children up and speak to their character and their future. From day one, speak life and love into your child’s life. The babies are listening and they are tucking our words into their hearts. Words have power.

Fighting for our Fur Babies…

Sunny

Wednesday night, after bible study I was heading home when my daughter Sarah called to say she was taking her dog (an adorable chocolate lab named Juniper) to the emergency vet. Juniper had been playing hard with her puppy brother, and little brother put a gash on both sides of her neck. Juniper had developed a fever and was throwing up. Ironically, on the east coast, one of my other grand dogs, Sunny, had just had knee surgery that same day and was home resting comfortably with some nice pains meds, a full leg cast and the cone of shame.

Neither of my daughters is a mom yet, although Hannah will be in about three weeks. But I could still picture both of my strong daughters fighting for their dogs like they will one day fight and advocate for their own babies. They loved them and they wanted what was best for their fur babies. I believe God loves animals. He created them and they are part of His plan.

I met Sarah and Juniper at the emergency vet. I had never been to an emergency vet, let alone on a Wednesday night during a national veterinarian shortage (who knew?) It was a full waiting room. We sat in the corner and took it all in. The young lady next to us sat with her newborn baby and aging beagle. She had her hands full. The nervous lady in a bedazzled sweatshirt who kept taking smoke breaks had a Jack Russell with rectal bleeding. Then there was the man in his forties that probably had his daughter’s rabbit. It didn’t look good for the rabbit, and he decided that the rabbit was a DNR. We all chatted and shared worried looks as we bonded in our love and concern for animals.

There was more. Animals kept coming in the front door and appearing from the back office doors. A guinea pig that was there in a cardboard box had had a tough delivery but mom and babies were doing fine. An old German shepherd mix came in with a huge gash in her side where she had run up against a stray screw in a planter. They decided to leave and head to another emergency vet where they thought the doctor would see them sooner, but soon found out that the ten hour wait we were being quoted was the fasted wait time in town. A big old Great Dane that was skin and bones came in and was seen right away. He threw up blood as he entered. I never saw him again. The camaraderie in the waiting room at the emergency vet was real. The beagle threw up twice and the mother who was literally watching her husband on a GPS running through a field at Ft. Lewis trying to get to his wife, baby, and sick dog, didn’t have enough hands to deal with dog vomit. I stopped the dog from eating the vomit and the Jack Russell’s mom bent over and cleaned it up. Someone else needed a charger for their cell phone and Sarah ran to her car and found one to loan. It was like we were connected and caring for each other. None of us wanted to be there, but yet there we were.

I am one of those people who can watch a movie and I am fine with a whole bunch of shooting and people dying but…don’t let the dog die. The worst part of our evening was when a truck pulled up to the curb and a husband and wife jumped out. The man had a very tiny black dog in his arms and they raced to the front desk. All we could hear was the nurse asking if they wanted CPR or not and then hearing the women wail. “I did everything I could do.” I looked around at my new waiting room buddies. The mother of the beagle was holding her hands over her ears and the nervous smoker was crying. My eyes welled up with tears. I think we lost a friend that night.

Juniper was triaged and told she would have a twelve-hour wait. They strongly suggested she head home and see her own vet the next day as she was running a fever and might need a stitch or two.

“Mom, did I overreact by bringing her in? All the other dogs looked so much worse?”

“No, I don’t think you were overreacting. She had a fever and two big cuts. And I think it’s always ok to care for our animals. I think it’s our responsibility.” And as I said that I pictured her fighting like a mama bear for her own babies someday. Hopefully someday soon. We left the vet in good shape but I know not everyone else did. Thankful for the veterinarians and thankful for a God who loves animals.

A Pandemic Wedding…

I have now lived during a pandemic, had to shelter in place and planned my daughter’s wedding in the midst of it all. Planning that wedding might have just saved my sanity and it taught me a lot about faith and flexibility.

When the quarantine hit our state, I quickly scurried across the mountain pass to pick up my daughter from college. We packed up our Honda to the absolute brim, in fact I should’ve taken pictures of that car. It was packed to maximum capacity when my daughter, Sarah, realized she still had “dining dollars” left. We took the car and parked in a red zone in some alley behind the student union building. We then purchased everything we could that did not require refrigeration and used up every single dining dollar she had left, including buying the custodian lunch. We came back to the car and literally hid granola bars by the spare tire and under the seats as there was no room in that car.

Nevertheless, we made it home over the mountain, leaving her fiancé behind, five and a half hours away. The big wedding was slated for August 15, 2020 and they were now separated by a mountain range and a pandemic. But we settled into our quarantine routine. We cleaned closets, purged old clothes and binged watched tv. My two college children attended their online classes, while I learned to teach first graders remotely. It became a learning co-op as on more than one occasion, I would trade some of their tech support for helping with a college discussion board or research paper. After about two weeks, the closets were cleaned, I knew how to upload pdfs and their quarter was almost over. Then what?

Wedding planning! Sarah and I began calling around to various vendors. The alterations lady was scheduled. Check. The photographer scheduled. Check. The caterer scheduled and down payment paid. Check. We went through Pinterest and looked for DYI projects that would personalize the wedding. We even tried a few. The Rubik’s cube made with engagement pictures was a fail – and some money down the drain, but occupied us for a couple days. Sarah worked on their wedding website and registry. We broke quarantine at one point to meet with a friend and made the veil. Sarah just kept plugging along. She had faith that a pandemic would not stop her wedding

In between the long days of wedding planning, teaching and taking classes, Tel would sneak over for extended weekends whenever he could. Sarah and Tel celebrated their quarantine birthdays. He surprised her another weekend when she went to the door thinking it was pizza delivery and there he stood. Our family gathered at Easter and enjoyed sitting outside and having a picnic supper together. We played lots of ladder ball and went on lots of long night time walks and binged our favorite show, “Below Deck.” But, things on the Covid-19 front were not getting better. We had “flattened the curve,” but still weddings were under some tight regulations. Other brides and grooms canceled their weddings. But my daughter is as stubborn as I am. When asked if she was certain there would be a wedding in August, she would reply with, “We are going to speak life into this situation. There will be a wedding.”

The photographer called me and asked, “Just between you and I , is there really going to be a wedding in August?” I said, “One way or another there will be a wedding.” And things did start to loosen up. We went on a vacation to Orcas Island up in the beautiful San Juans. Tel joined our family and we were enjoying being on a beach, with family and less thoughts of quarantine and masks and frankly, just getting away from our house. The engaged couple were counting down the days until their wedding – less than a month.

Then the news came. The governor was tightening up on weddings. After August 6th, weddings would be very limited. There were some tears. We had gotten so close to that August 15th wedding date. So, after some tears, Tel and Sarah decided to move the wedding. We each took our phones and headed into town for cell service and started making calls. Within 30 minutes, we had a new wedding date – August 2nd. Same venue. Same photographer. Same caterer, Same cake. Same flowers – the only thing that changed was the DJ. Otherwise, we had successfully moved the wedding up two weeks.

The week after vacation was a blur. But an exciting blur. After doing nothing for so long, all of the sudden we were frenzied and happily working towards finalizing a wedding. The day of the wedding came and we prepared for a Covid wedding – some changes in protocol that would have bothered a bride if it was any other season, didn’t matter anymore. Of the many lessons quarantine and Covid have taught us, flexibility stands among them. We can’t pass the appetizers? Ok – put them on a table. The cake spills after hitting a speed bump? Not a problem, Safeway down the road was willing to help us out. Some friends feel like they shouldn’t come for health reasons? Totally and completely understand and respect that. The pastor forgets to bring the communion supplies to the ceremony? Eh, they can take communion together later. This wedding, during 2020, taught me about flexibility and faith. Trust in God and He will bring you the desires of your heart. You might have to bend and be flexible and perhaps give up your picture of what everything should look like. But that letting go, is a huge part of faith and His picture for you, is going to be worth it.

Missing my First Graders…

Teaching remotely is weird. I miss connecting with my first graders. Today is a little shout out to those funny little six year olds who kept the classroom alive. And while we have funny moments in our Zoom meetings, nothing will compare to talking to students in a classroom setting. Here’s a shout out to those moments from the first 120 days of school.

**We have a reading unit that explores pioneer life – it’s one I always enjoy teaching. One day I asked the first graders, “What would it be like to not have cars?” I thought they were going to be flush with ideas, but they were not, nothing. Finally, one little girl says, “We would have to walk so, so so far to get our Starbucks.”

**We were doing a particularly high level lesson for six year olds – they were writing about their favorite place and then rewriting their final draft into a Google Doc. If they had enough time, they could add an online picture and share the document with me. So I put one little girl’s document up on the screen. She had chosen Legoland. The picture she had chosen from a Google image said Deutschland Legoland. I commented, “Oh, looks like you found a picture of the Legoland in Germany.” I had two little boys, hush me.
“Don’t talk about Germany, “ Said the first in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Remember…Hitler??” Said the second boy.

**The fire department send in the local fire safety educator once a year. She asked my class, “What is your address?”
“It’s the place where Amazon delivers your stuff.”said a little boy.

**”Mrs Hansen?”
“Yes?”
Grace keeps saying that she’s half Jalapeno and I don’t believe her.”
“Grace, are you trying to say Filipino?”
“Yea…that’s it!”

**”Mrs. Hansen, what’s that thing about giving up something for 40 days?”
“Lent?”
“Yes! I am going to give up not brushing my teeth for Lent.”

**”Yuck! I don’t want a skeleton in my body. That’s gross.”
“Wait a minute…if we didn’t have a skeleton or bones, what would our body look like?”
“You would look like a slug or a jellyfish!”
“Right…”
“Do we need hair?”
“What do you guys think? Do we need hair?”
“Well, we saw that video about the hippo and how it had hair so it didn’t get sunburned.”
“Yea my grandpa is a baldy and he always wears hats so he doesn’t get burned.”
“I think you are right, I have gotten the part in my hair (pointing to my part) burned before. So I know hair helps me not get burned.”
“That’s not a part – that’s a bald spot.”

**“Hey friends, let’s not sniff glue sticks.”
“They kind of smell like farts…” replied one girl
“Than I think that’s another great reason not to sniff them.”

**“Can I take home my journal?”
“No, I would like that to stay at school. But you could make one or ask Mom to buy you one. They cost .79 cents at Target”
“My mom won’t buy one. She says I am a turd.”

**Going over sight words with a young girl and she stumbles on the word, “pull”
I say the word aloud to her, stretching out the sounds.
“Oh… like there are three kinds of pull. Like you pull your dog on a leash, you dance on a “pull” and you can swim in the “pull”
“OK…” I say convinced we need some more lessons on letter sounds and to find out what her mom’s occupation is

ADHD Marriage…

I am not naive to people with special needs, in fact I have a Masters Degree in Special Education. I just didn’t recognize the one sitting right under my nose. My husband and I have been married for 27 years. Early on in our marriage, one of his first bosses suggested that he had ADHD. We laughed. Shane? ADHD? Shane could be incredibly hyper-focused, like a laser. There was no deficit there. But when our own son was diagnosed with ADHD in kindergarten, we began a learning curve – both as parents and as a husband and wife. It was during this time that Shane received his diagnosis of adult ADHD.

One of our very first visits to the pediatrician we talked about how our son focused on his Legos and trucks, almost to the point of obsession. How could this be a deficit? His response has helped me as both a mom, a wife and a teacher. “Think about ADHD not as a deficit in focus, but a deficit in how you regulate your focus. It’s easy to focus on high interest activities for long periods of time. But, if you are listening to a teacher who is talking about something which you have no connection to, you can not focus. You might look impulsive and lacking of self-control.” This made sense. Dating my husband was quite exciting because I was the center of his hyper focus. He was creative and fun. He hung on my every word.

But over the years, there have been times when I have also experienced the deficit part of ADHD. HIs mind races around and jumps from one thing to the next. Sometimes, this means he’s not the best listener. Not being listened to can be hard, until I take a deep breath and realize it’s not on purpose, but rather it’s how his brain is processing information. So when I tell him about my day and how I had a student parent conference that was weird and he just nods his head, because he isn’t really listening, it can be hard. It would be easy to take it personally and I still sometimes do. But when I’m able to say to myself, “Ok, we are having an ADHD moment,” I can release both of us from feelings of resentment, we can make it work. Sometimes, the laser pointer is on me and he’s an incredible listener and warm and attentive. Until a figurative “squirrel” runs through the yard…the “squirrel” might be something from church, a new bike he wants to buy or a home improvement project he wants to start. Sometimes, the “squirrel”s in his life mean that I have to be the responsible one. The one who pays the bills, attends the children’s events or remembers to lock the front door every night. And sometimes, being the responsible one gets old. But early on in our marriage, because I do believe God brought us together, we came up with some strategies to make ADHD work in our relationship.

ADHD relationships take extra patience. This is true whether it’s a marriage or a parent/ child relationship. These relationships require compassion. ADHD can make people more easily frustrated or irritated. People with ADHD may feel insecure or overwhelmed. They exert a lot of mental energy to keep themselves put together. This is exhausting. So, we’ve tried to slow our lives down. Not always successful in that. But now, we are our mostly empty nesters and are slowing down our daily commitments. Also, for me, focusing on the idea that ADHD does not define my husband. It is not who he is. He wants to remember anniversaries. He wants to remember to get the items on the shopping list. So I must separate ADHD from my husband and have patience and compassion.

I have learned a lot about ADHD in the last 15 years. I have learned to try to set up my husband for success. For example, technology has been a great asset to his short term memory issues. I can text him reminders and that helps him stay focused on the task at hand. I also chose not to talk to him about important subjects or not to confide in him with deep stuff when he is tired or distracted. If I can’t get his attention refocused, then I find another time to communicate. I will also ask him to do things like turn down the television while I am talking or give me eye contact when I need to know that he heard what I was saying.

The gift of ADHD is that Shane can be incredibly spontaneous and fun. He is funny and sees the world with a quirky filter. I love spontaneity as well so our children grew up with fun, adventures and lots of laughter. Our kids might not have always had the cleanest house and the laundry might not have always been folded and put away. Sometimes, I made pizza rolls for dinner. But giving up being perfect is another way to manage ADHD. I like to think my children are capable of being flexible. And, knowing that my husband isn’t tuned into the details of everyday life also gives me a little bit of grace. Like I said, my house can be dirty and he won’t see it. The dinner might be late and he won’t care. For the compassion that I give him during his “squirrel” moments I receive someone who is not overly critical or judgmental. For me, it’s important to realize that my husband is not purposefully avoiding daily responsibilities. It’s also about honest communication about expectations, patience, compassion and unconditional love. And really…those are the things that make all marriages work. These are also the things that God gives His children.

Happy Birthday, Dr. King…

As a first grade teacher, one of my favorite lessons has always been talking about Martin Luther King Jr. There all sorts of great lessons wrapped up in the discussions we have. We read books about MLK, Ruby Bridges and Rosa Parks. The students are silenced with disbelief when I explain the meaning of words like segregation, boycott or equality. Those little six year old brains really process these ideas and ask lots of questions. Often, they get a little stuck on the assasination piece, but inevitably they are shocked by the idea that there are students in our classroom that wouldn’t have attended our school due to the color of their skin not so very long ago.

This year we really dove into the topic. We watched speeches, we read books and had discussions and journal writings about bus boycotts. Together we wondered what it was like for Ruby Bridges to go to school with people yelling at her and throwing things while federal marshals escorted her to the building. Heck, I had to explain what a federal marshal was. On our final day, they were putting together a scrapbook about King. On each page they wrote a memory or idea surrounding certain events. It was a little more writing intensive than is typical, so we did some of the work together. As students finished the writing, they went back to their seats to finish the final touches and color their pages. One little boy approached me and asked, “Mrs. Hansen, what color was Martin Luther King?”

My first reaction (which I kept to myself) was to think, “Are you kidding me? Have you not watched the videos and seen the books? Seriously?”

Then I moved to, “Maybe this is a crayon issue. I don’t have those skin colored crayons that Crayola makes.”

But then I went deeper. I stopped and thought about King’s speech. “I have a dream that…little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and and white girls as sisters and brothers.” And no, we are not perfect, but maybe this little boy wasn’t seeing color like I do as fifty year old adult. Maybe it will be children that will lead us and teach us to be color blind. Happy birthday Dr. King.

Hey Mary!! Mary!

One of my favorite Christmas memories happened when Sarah was about four. Shane and I had taken all of the kids to the living nativity at the local Baptist church. In the past, it had been a drive thru nativity, but this year they opened it up to walk through. If you were to go to it now, it has become so popular that it is wall to wall people and hard to even walk through. But back 15 or 16 years ago, it wasn’t crowded, so we had our own family tour guide. Our guide was an older man from the church, looking a little like the kids’ grandpa. He guided us through each scene carefully explaining what we were seeing. We started in the busy town of Bethlehem and traveled through to the Angel of the Lord who appeared to us and was very loud and bright and finally we made it to the stable where baby Jesus was laying with Mary and Joseph. At this point, our guide turned to us and told us about an angel appearing to Joseph telling him that Herod was out to kill baby Jesus and he needed to get out of town. Truthfully, this had not been a huge point of the nativity story that we had stressed with our children. The kids all looked at us as if to say, “You kind left out a major plot twist.” But little Sarah was upset. So she went right over as close as she could get to Mary (or the poor actress playing the part of Mary) and screamed, “Hey Mary! Mary! Mary listen to me, Mary!” Finally the actress, broke her role and acknowledged the screaming child. “Mary, listen carefully. You gotta get baby Jesus out of here!! Someone is coming to try to kill him!! Mary?! Did you hear me?” Mary quietly nodded her head at Sarah and Sarah was satisfied that Mary was going to take care of baby Jesus.

So in this Christmas season and into the new year, I am going to challenge myself to have that same zeal for Jesus. That child like excitement that is bold and can’t be shut up!

Meeting the New Boyfriend…

A week and a half ago, November 3rd, was a special day for our family. Sarah, my youngest daughter and her boyfriend, Tel got engaged. It was beautiful… He invited both families to be a part of the proposal and it was perfect in every way! We are so excited to have him in the family and I fondly look back at the day we met him.

It was Homecoming weekend at Sarah’s college last year and Shane and I started over the mountain pass to take in all of the activities that were being offered. But to add an interesting twist, Sarah phoned us the week before to let us know that she had met “someone special.” They weren’t officially dating yet, but she said he wanted to meet us and I could tell that she definitely wanted to show off this new love interest. Maybe even wanted some parental opinions.

We arrived at her dorm and she hurried us off to the Homecoming parade. “I told Tel that you guys are going to the parade. He will meet you at the parade, because I am on a float.” Meet us at the parade? I wasn’t sure how that was going to work logistically. Were we just supposed to stumble around and find someone on the sidewalks, in the dark, at a college parade? I was glad it was a small town. As we approached the parade route, I kept my eyes peeled. It was a good thing I had previously stalked the poor guy and at least had an idea of what he looked like…tall, red hair, I was guessing probably a baseball cap. But still, it was dark. Shane got involved in the parade. Truthfully, it was asking a lot for my ADHD husband to look away from a parade and scan the crowd for an unknown, future boyfriend. Soon I found myself, watching the parade more and scanning the crowd less, when I felt the presence of someone behind me. I turned and knew that Tel had found us first. He looked nervous – and who wouldn’t be….”go find my parents – they are on the sidewalk at the parade and I will catch up with you.” Really? Anyway, I put out my hand and asked, “Tel?” He smiled nervously and said hello. I kicked Shane who was still watching the parade and introduced the two men. About this time, Sarah and her float came by. We waved and then turned to walk towards the end of the parade route to meet her. My husband and Tel were instantly talking about small towns in Lewis County, guns and politics. We found Sarah and moved on to phase two of our night.

Phase Two started as we drove back towards the main college campus. We headed to a hockey game. Although I used to be an avid athlete, I had never attended a hockey game. I was excited to go. We got there and the seats were almost full so we looked hard for four seats together. As we started to sit down, Shane kept shaking us off trying to get us to move to another spot. But they were good seats, so we overrode his decision and sat down. About a minute after sitting down, we realized that in a college of over 13,000 students we had sat down behind Sarah’s ex-boyfriend and his whole family. Awkward. They turned, smiled and waved. Shane had tried to warn us. Eventually the violence of the hockey game became a distraction and we enjoyed the game. Our team was way ahead and with a couple minutes left in the game, we headed out for a late dinner before everything shut down.

We traveled to the local Mexican restaurant. It was late but we ordered dinner. As we waited for our food Tel opened up and was telling us stories about his family. He was a good storyteller and easy to listen to. Just as our food arrived, Tel excused himself to go to the bathroom.

Sarah leaned across the table, “So do you like him?” She asked.

“No,” Shane said blankly.

I looked at him with wide eyes and Sarah repeated her question, “I said, do you like him?”

“No, I’ve had enough.” Shane said firmly.

For about three seconds I stared at Sarah and then it hit me. Shane doesn’t hear well.

“No, I said loudly, she asked if you like Tel not if you would like some of her food” I said pointing to her plate.

Poor Shane had thought Sarah had asked him if he would like some of her dinner. With the confusion resolved, Sarah’s adrenaline died back down and we laughed. Shane than went on to say that yes, he really liked Tel. Tel rejoined our table and we had a great dinner.

The rest of the weekend was fun. The four of us went to the big football game the next day, walked the Spokane River Walk and went out for a great steak dinner. We woke up Sunday morning and met the couple for breakfast at a local restaurant. We were able to get in lots of good conversation. We saw that Tel was a man of God and we saw how happy our daughter was. The following weekend Tel introduced Sarah to his family and they officially began dating. We are so glad these two found each other, the story of how they met is probably not mine to tell, but clearly God had his hand upon them from the very beginning and I believe that God will continue to bless them now and as they begin married life. We are excited for their future.

Forgiveness is a Process…

You know how there are some situations in life that just lend themselves to lessons on patience, forgiveness and grace – but when you are in the middle of it, that’s not the first place your mind goes? In fact, what you really want to do is strangle someone and maybe let them know they are wrong and you are right?!? I feel like in the last year God has wanted to teach me about forgiveness. I would have preferred a lesson on how to graciously win the lottery or how to travel the world with your family. But He has been planting seeds, telling me to let go of grudges and not be controlled by bitterness towards people that have wronged me or my family. He knows Mama Bear holds grudges.

Years ago, we had renters. Bad renters. We received an anonymous letter from a neighbor talking about the condition of the house and a chained dog that barked constantly. Another time, the security alarm went off and we helped the police department turn it off remotely only to have the police ask if we had seen the inside of the house recently. Then the non payment of rent started…Three months of non payment. We served them an eviction notice. We learned a lot about renter’s rights during this process …grrrr…. Apparently they have the right to leave our house, with doors and windows open and we couldn’t do anything for several days. Finally, we got into the house. The house that we built ourselves and put our personal touches on. The house where we had stenciled in the children’s bedrooms and carefully picked out the curtains in the windows and the fixture hanging over the stairs. You probably know where this is headed. The first thing that hit us when we got into the house was the smell. An indescribable mix of mildew, animal feces and rotting food. They had played paintball in the garage. They had left wet laundry piled up against the sheetrock until it molded. They had taken dirty diapers and thrown them under the deck. The had kept their dog in a closet under the stairs. They had cracked bathroom tiles. They had broken the door on the oven. They had broken the garage door. They had left the riding lawn mower in the yard for months. There was cigarette burns in the curtains. They left dirty dishes molding in the dishwasher. There were bleach stains on the carpet. And that was just the beginning.

It took about a year to restore the house. It needed new sheet rock in places, a new garage door, new floors, new paint and new carpet. We hauled truck load after truckload to the dump. This happened in the middle of the Great Recession when we weren’t overflowing with extra cash. We dipped into retirement money and Shane’s parents generously offered to help with both the cost and the labor of the repairs. We found a renter who was thrilled to get a discount on her rent while we improved the place. We did seek compensation from the renters, but they were good at jumping from one poor landlord to the next and knew how to abuse the system. (Literally, they got divorced legally although still living together as a married couple, so she could get benefits as a single mom (like healthcare and free lunches) and she could garnish his paycheck for child support, which meant that even though we had a garnishment order, it couldn’t bypass the child support payment!)

Do you see why I was angry? “The renters” were on my mind constantly. We had a right to be angry. Our kids talked about it. Or extended family would talk about it. We would have “renter” sightings in our small town. Our anger and hatred were consuming. For me, there was finally a day when I was in the shower and I realized that I was starting everyday thinking about the “damn renters.” I would have conversations with them in my head. I would picture every what-if scenario I could think of. But that is how I started my day…and I realized I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep focusing on someone else’s sin and how it hurt me and my family. I am a champion grudge holder and I liked holding onto my anger and my superiority. These people were like feral animals. But holding onto all of that was tiring. It was exhausting. It hurt my marriage and my parenting. I needed to let it go. So for the next several months, when I would wake up and my mind would drift to the renters, I would have to find the strength of mind to redirect it. I often would ask God to help me forgive them and to help me stop thinking about them. All I wanted to do was move on, forgive them and be done.

Forgiveness for me is both a choice and a process. I think it’s good to forgive. God wants us to forgive, so bitterness doesn’t live in our hearts. He also wants us to forgive so He can use us. For me forgiveness is a process, at least for the big stuff. I have pretty much forgiven the renters. I am still working on forgiving the person who sexually assaulted my daughter. I am working on forgiving the relative who chose to criticize my parenting on more than one occasion. I am also working on forgiving the person who chose not to seek medical treatment for my child who was unconscious with a head injury in their vehicle after a car accident. I think forgiveness is worth the work. But again, for me it’s a process. I can’t deny that it needs to happen, because God tells me it needs to happen.

I recently had my old college roommate approach me to ask for forgiveness. This is a humbling experience. My first semester of college I had a roommate who partied a lot. She invited people into our room, guys, girls, one time even a clown with glitter was found passed out in my bed. She wasn’t an awful person, just broken and confused. But it was a hard semester for me. Thirty years later, I sat with her at a Starbucks in the Bavarian town of Leavenworth and she apologized. She graciously and genuinely apologized for her behavior and how it affected me. I was surprised. But instantly forgave her, not even quite realizing that I still, thirty years later, was a little mad. But letting go of it was nice…it was freeing. How incredibly brave of her to ask for forgiveness. Most people in our lives won’t ask. Most will just sweep it under the rug. Forgiving people who don’t ask for it and sometimes don’t even acknowledge they wronged you, is hard stuff. Forgiveness is much less about the person being forgiven than it is the person who is doing the forgiving… me. That being said, I am never going to be a landlord again! Lesson learned!