1,095 Days

For most people, January is just another month in the year.  For us in Iowa, it is usually full of snow, cold weather, and setting goals at New Years to remake or renew our lives.  January for me stirs emotions.   It is the month that will forever be etched in my memory as a month of loss and heartbreak.

Over the winter break, while sledding with my family, I remembered that I was doing the same thing three years ago in the exact same spot.  My Dad was in the archery shop and came out to visit with my family and my friends family while we were sledding right outside the shop door.  He made a comment to my friend and I about how long we had been friends and how everything was as it should be.  He had fun watching our families play in the snow.  Every time I sled that hill, that is my memory.  I stood in the same place, which is now right outside my kitchen door, and just reminisced that day in my mind.  

As I was driving to school this morning, it hit me that it is January.  That means it has been almost three years or 1,095 days since I last saw my Dad. Unbelievable.  Grief is an interesting emotional path.  In the beginning, it consumes you.  It breaks you down to your core and strips your soul.  I can still remember falling to my knees in the ER room next to Dad and holding his hand.  I can still clearly see the peoples faces in the room and their looks of sadness and shock.  I can still hear their voices of kind comforting words and still remember the smallest details of that day.   I lived that moment every day for a long time.  I can remember laying on my couch at night sobbing because I could not get that scene out of my head.  It was raw and shook me to my core.  People say that time 

heals pain.  I do not agree with that statement.   Our loss will never be "healed."  The gap that Dad left in our life will always be with us.  We have continued to build our lives around the space that was once filled with him.  

I recently read a quote that compared grief to the waves of an ocean.  Sometimes the waves are small and we can handle floating in them with ease.  Other times the water is calm.  But sometimes the waves are large and fast and all we can do is learn to swim.  They knock us over, they take our breath away, but we must keep swimming.   With my faith as my life-vest and my family as my arm floaties, I'm still a float in life's ocean.  I don't always see my waves coming but I know that I have learned to swim in this sea of life.  

  

Memories from Millrock- A Work in Progress

So, I really want to write a short book about my life.  So, if you follow my blog, suck it up!  I will post and update things as they are written.  I'm a very slow and reflective writer.  I was once told in college that I sucked at writing and that I should go back to HS.  LOL!  I also hate grammar.  Too many rules!  So I will apologize now for the horrible grammar.

Memories from Millrock

Often times when I tell stories of my childhood, people do not believe that I'm telling the truth.  If you were not born and raised in the cornfields of Iowa, especially a small town Iowa, it is hard to understand the close-knit bond that holds together people in small town Iowa.  As an adult, I had no idea how the people of my childhood would shape and mold me into the person I am today.  The phrase, "it takes a village to raise a child" is profoundly true in my life.  

I grew up in a small farming area outside of Baldwin, Iowa called Millrock.  Baldwin is small, but Millrock doesn't even show up on the map!  The google car didn't even trek this back road area.  Not much remains of this old country town but a few houses along a dusty gravel road and the old Millrock School House.  Describing Millrock is easy, yet difficult.  It is surrounded by rolling pastures, Bear Creek, and hilly corn fields.  If you listen at night in the summer, you can hear the howls of coyotes and the croaking of frogs.  Most evenings the sun sets over the hills and graces the skyline with the colors of the Heavens.  It is perfect in every way.  I didn't always see it this way, but after 33 years on this earth I see life quite differently.  

Chapter One:  Childhood Memories

Most children of the 1980's remember the basics:  Saturday morning cartoons, He-Man and She-Ra, and some of the best toys on earth.  My childhood included all these basic principles, but added a few twists.  I should first specify that I was a tomboy mutation.  I say mutation because I loved to explore and to get dirty, but I always preferred to wear a dress or prairie skirt while doing it.  I was like the Laura Ingalls Wilder of my neighborhood.  

When I go through my pictures of childhood I can verify the following 6 things:  

1.  Big plastic frames were cute

2.  Big hair was in

3.  I was destined for braces

4.  In 60% of the photos, I am wearing some sort of dress-up clothes or my Laura Ingalls Wilder bonnet.  

5.  I was super cool.  Hands-down.  ;)

6.  My parents sometimes dressed me in my brothers hand-me-downs.  (What girl doesn't want to wear a muscle shirt with a motorcycle on it?)

Ugh, as cute as my Mom thought I was, I have to disagree.

Rad Bike Club
In our neighborhood, riding your bike to everyone else's house was the prime form of transportation. And I'm not talking about the nice bikes we see at Wal-Mart today.  I'm talking about bad ass bikes with banana seats, steal frames, and sissy handle bars.  You could run over our bikes with a car and they would still be rideable.  My bike had the cool plastic spoke noise makers, a front zipper fanny pack, and fancy streamers that came out of the handle bars.  I'll say it again, BAD ASS bikes.  You add in some L.A. Gear shoes and you have yourself some unstoppable awesomeness.

Any child of the 80's knows the 1986 movie "Rad."  If you have never had the extreme privilege of watching this cult classic, I will sum it up for you.  Cru Jones wants to be a BMX bike racer and qualifies to race the Helltrack course against the famous BMX rider Bart.  This movie is epic and when your seven watching people do bike tricks, it may quality as one of the top movies EVER.  Queue the song "Send Me An Angel" and begin trick riding.

Well, every kid in our neighborhood watched this movie.  A lot.  I know we had the hijacked off back to back VCR copy.  I can still see the title written in my Dad's all capital letter handwriting.  So what do you do after watching BMX riders dance on their bikes to music for an hour and a half?  You try and do it,  on gravel!  That is always a great idea.  I can still remember attempting to get enough speed to be able to stand on the seat of my bike and coast the length of the gravel in front of my house.  I can also remember face planting because I hit the pot hole in the middle of the road.  Several of the kids in the neighborhood would cruise the strip of gravel in front of my house "trick" riding.  I think the closest we got to trick riding was popping wheelies, laying bike tire skid marks on the bridge down the road, and making ramps from pieces of wood.  We even attempted to make our own HellTrack.

Random Tuesday Thoughts...

It has been almost a year and a half since we lost Dad.  I can honestly say, there is not a day that passes that I don't think of him in some way.  Especially, now that we live in the archery shop.  I often find myself wondering what in the world he would have thought about all this!
In that time, I have had a lot of time to soul search and time to figure myself out.  I am complicated in so many ways, but so simple in others.  So, through it all, I have started turing over a new leaf in my life.

What is it?  Just to be myself and understand that some people may not like that or understand that.  Also, to really listen to my heart and do what I know I'm supposed to do in life.  Has it been easy?  Nope.  Not one bit.  But, I will continue to do it because I know it is right.  In the past year, I have learned who is a true friend and who truly is there through thick and thin.  Unfortunately, that part sucks.  Some people in my life only need me when someone better isn't around or they need something from me.  I freaking hate that.  Either your in or out.  Love me or hate me, but you can't do both.

Tonight, I started my own YouTube channel.  Not a big deal.  I know several six-year-olds with their own channel.  ;)  But, for me, a beginning of sharing my love and my passion.  Now to memorize all those lines for the upcoming show...ugh.  My brain doesn't work like it used to.

Bob The Builder

For the past few months my family has been renovating my Dad's archery shop into our home.  Wow.  I REALLY wish I would have paid more attention in shop class.  ;)  I will be so glad when I NEVER have to cut drywall, paint, or decide which light fixture would look best in which room.


Things are going very well and we are super excited for the winter to end.  It is not fun attempting to work construction when it is -30 degrees.  I have become one with my Carhart bibs and Columbia boots.  My two favorite things.  :)  I would love to be in by Mia's birthday, but things are not looking good.

I have updated most people on my facebook page, but it you would like to see it and you are not on FB, please click  Photo's of Progress to see the album.  (I hope it works!)

Cleaning out the shop took several weeks of carefully packing up Dad's stuff and deciding what to keep and what not to keep.  My favorite find were his journals.  Dad used to talk about how we was writing down stories from his childhood and other "thoughts" he had about things.  I used to see him with these little notebooks, but never new what happened to them  I found them in one of the last file cabinets I cleaned out.  It is such a gift to have them.  My goal is to type them out and give them to family when I am finished.  Dad had some fun stories, great advice, and quirky humor.

Wrapping Up The Year

On Facebook, there is a button to push to see your year in review.  I contemplated that button for awhile this morning.  Looking back over this past year is somewhat difficult in so many aspects.  Mixed within every moment of my year is the reality of how life has changed so much but the positive of how far we have come.

Looking back on the memory of

The dance we shared 'neath the stars above

For a moment all the world was right

How could I have known that you'd ever say goodbye?

And now I'm glad I didn't know

The way it all would end, the way it all would go

Our lives are better left to chance

I could have missed the pain, but I'd have had to miss the dance

Holding you, I held everything

For a moment, wasn't I a king?

But if I'd only known how the king would fall

Hey, who's to say? You know I might have changed it all

And now I'm glad I didn't know

The way it all would end, the way it all would go

Our lives are better left to chance

I could have missed the pain, but I'd have had to miss the dance

Yes my life is better left to chance

I could have missed the pain, but I'd have had to miss the dance

My year has been challenging.  But, whose year hasn't had ups and downs?  I think of other families out there struggling with the loss of a loved one.  A year ago, my family was focusing on Christmas without all of the Grandparents.  Little did we know, that life had one more turn for us within a month after Christmas.  Losing Dad still haunts me every single day of my life.  And many people tell me, it will never go away.  Some days the thoughts are positive and funny stories/moments fill my head.  Cleaning the shop for example, has been mixed with SO MANY EMOTIONS.  I find myself laughing hysterically at things I find and stories shared by Dad's friend, Heber.  Other days are dark inside my head.  Little things set me off and usually I find myself removing myself from the situation to ease the grief.  On those days, I replay January 21st over and over in my head.  I can see everyone, hear everything, and remember those final moments.  I hate that memory and hate those bad days.

Within the challenges of the year are some great moments.  Hanging out more with my family, changing careers, and beginning to make a new home.  It's the little moments of watching Adam with little Brad riding around on the tractor, or watching Mia make cookies and crafts with Grandma.  I can't wait to be able to raise my kids where I grew up.

As we prepare for Christmas this year, I pray for so many things.  I pray that within the celebration of Christ's birth, my family can find comfort in the small things.  The children will keep our minds busy and entertained, but it is always the quiet times of reflection that are difficult.  I pray that as Adam and I continue to construct our new home, that it be blessed with God's love.  I find much comfort "moving home."  I love small town life.  I also pray for others around me who have lost loved ones this year.  This Christmas will be difficult for them as well.  As you say a prayer this holiday season thanking God for all you have, I ask that you remember those who are struggling this season with loss.
Christmas will not be the same this year.  It will come with some joys and laughs, but the vacant seat at the table will be the most difficult part of the day.  Be thankful for what you have because it may be gone tomorrow.  Remember, you don't know when "the dance" will end.
 

Taking the Scenic View Home

Today, on our way home from my niece's birthday party, we took the scenic route home.  I find it amazing how a simple drive home and conjure up so many memories in my past.  Moments I hadn't thought about for years.

My husband decided to take the back roads home through Morley, Hale, and Olin.  The kids were sleeping and it was nice to look at the leaves in our beautiful state before all the trees are bare and the winter hits.  No one wants to drive the back roads in the winter.  ;)

As we hit Olin, I saw the old feed plant on the outskirts of town.  I couldn't help but smile and remember the trips I made with Grandpa Stender there as a kid.  Grandpa used to work at the Purina feed store in Maquoketa and had to go to Olin to get bags sometimes.  If you were lucky, he would take you along.  This meant a fun ride in the old feed pick-up truck, a free Pop, and helping Grandpa load the truck.  As a girl, this meant that you had to prove that you could life and throw a feed sack.  It was a big deal!  I can remember the feed guys giving Grandpa crap and me chucking sacks.  I can still smell the truck, his cup of coffee, and see him in his work gear.  We would go in the morning so we could be back in time to return for lunch.  I remember one day Grandma made cold-pack beef over bread.  That stuff was amazing!  Add some fried potatoes and BAM, a gourmet meal.

As we got closer to home, I happened to glance out the window and see the field that Dad and I went hunting in a few years back.  This was the last hunting I did with him.  It is a small corn field by Nashville.  I remember he wanted me to go pheasant hunting.  I didn't have my license, so we went and looked up my old Hunter's Education class stuff and bought me a license.  We did some clay shooting first and I had to shoot this double barrel, double trigger, rifle.  It was the craziest thing!  He gave me so much crap because I was so nervous to shoot it.  Crazy enough, I hit all the clay targets, but do you think I could hit a damn pheasant????  NO!  It was a crappy hunting day, but a day I will always remember.  You trying wearing coveralls that are too big and tromping around a corn field with the expert hunter laughing at you the whole time.  ;)

When we got to Maquoketa, we decided that Flap Jacks would be the best option.  The kids were starving and getting grumpy.  We went in and got situated at a table.  As we were waiting for our food, an older man came in to eat alone.  He was dressed up so I assumed that he had just finished with church and probably a widower.  I couldn't help but overhear his conversation with the waitress.  He was so polite to her and he smiled at me.  I found myself drawn to this guy in a weird way.  Like he had something to say that was important.  I kept entertaining the kids, who were getting even grumpier at this time.  It was then that Brad tipped is whole cup of milk over on himself, the table, the diaper bag, and everywhere else.  Adam and I were annoyed, but quietly wiped up the milk and tired to keep things under control in public.  About that time, this man walked over to our table and said, "sometimes the craziest times are the ones you will miss the most and will remember the most."  I responded, "yes," with a smile.  He walked past and I was in awe.  I really needed to hear that and here it was coming from a complete stranger.  But it made so much sense.

This week I had a lot on my mind.  I was crippled by my anger from something at school and my sadness about my first birthday without Dad.  It was horrible.  I have never went to bed at 5:00 p.m., but that was all I could do because crying was the only other option.  My son was playing in the hall with his pig penny bank.  I drug myself out in the hall because he was frustrated he couldn't get the only coin in the bank out.  I shook the pig.  I hit the pig on the floor.  Finally, I reached my finger in and corralled the coin.  I balanced it on my finger and slowly brought it out.  It was a dime.  I haven't found any dimes lately, but there it was.  It was enough to send me over the edge, again.  I let Brad have the coin and he continued to shove it in the pig to get it to play music.  We did this for awhile before we snuggled at bedtime.  This kid is smart.  As we snuggled, I kept having tears run down my cheeks.  He took my face in his hands and ran his finger down my forehead and nose and then smiled.  This is what I do to him when he is sad.  This made me feel horrible.  My two-year-old was comforting me.  Time to stop pouting and put this Mommy in time-out.

When I sit in church tomorrow, I need to do a lot of thanking.  I love my little church I attend and the friends I have within it.  They know me and my past.  I will sit in the back with my little kids and be thankful for everything.  As crazy as my week was, as many tears as I cried this week, it will be the small moments and lessons learned within this week that I will take with me and let it shape my choices in the future. Tomorrow is a new day and I can't relive today.  As bad as some moments were this week, as sad as it was to remember times gone by, it is the craziest times that I will miss and do miss the most.  So, I thank a stranger for reminding me of this tonight.  God works in mysterious ways for sure and he sent me a reminder angel this evening when I least expected it.

Dirt and Daydreaming

Summer is finally drawing to a close.  So many memories swirl in my head.  Many new trails blazed in such a short time.

Everyone know I am not back to teaching.  I have to say, I didn't leave Administration because I didn't like it.  I left Administration because I needed to have a life outside of my job.  Talking about state reports and who yelled at me on a daily basis is really not my idea of how I want to live the rest of my life.  I was raised that if you aren't passionate about doing something, why are you doing it?  That became a key part of my decision.

Now that I'm back in music, it is completely amazing.  I smile more.  I get up and am excited to see my students and teach my favorite subject in the world.  It is so fun to stand in front of 80 students and teach them about being passionate with their music.  I think the coolest thing is to take all of Dad's advice from coaching and apply it to the classroom.  "Never give up on the kids."  "Don't take things so personally." And trying to go above and beyond for the kids.  Isn't that what teaching is all about?

So, was it worth it?  Absolutely.

I have also rekindled my love of being in the country.  I have always loved going "home," but now that I have more time, I spend a lot more time at "home."  I enjoy doing the things Dad taught me and teaching my kids the same stuff.  I love it.  Jeeping, gardening, porch swinging, and four-wheeling.  All awesome.  It makes me feel as close to him as I can be.