Birthday boy no more....

Twenty-five years ago today, I first held my child in my hands. It is a magical moment, when you see that child you have been harboring under your heart for nine long months, and you are suddenly A Mom. The mixed emotions of wishing to keep them close to you, and yet dying to see them, hold them, and ultimately throw them to their own fates to see what they will be overwhelm you. You are humbled and grateful and weary at the impending responsibilities that have suddenly been thrust upon you.

And yet, you know that you will be the best parent who ever lived. You will never say or do the wrong thing. Your child will be perfection itself - behavior, attitude and actions all conforming with your ideals, because you will Do It Right, and thus, your child will do no wrong, and both of your lives will be perfect.

What a difference 25 years makes.

Yesterday, I held that same child in my arms, hugging him goodbye. Now 6'6" and living on his own in a city eight hours away, we said our farewells in a airline terminal, and I watched him walk away into his future.

After a few tumultuous days, he is beginning his new life as a graduate student in a state very different from the one he is used to. The people will be different, the city is new and offers a lot to explore, his studies will be harder and yet, hopefully, even more fulfilling, and his life is changing in every way.

Along the path to this day, I have made every single mistake that parents have made since Cain and Abel. I have criticized when I should have hugged, I have coddled when I should have used tough love. I have been too strict at some times, and too lax at others. I have said no when I should have said yes, and vice versa.

My child, while under my care, managed to take a lamp apart while it was still plugged in. He swallowed a penny and had to have it surgically removed. He stopped breathing on a nightly basis and had to be monitored for the first year of his life, leaving me forever traumatized upon hearing a certain type of alarm. He snores. He is moody and temperamental, and even those who love him best concede that he can be a little difficult at times.

He loves Beethoven and the Beatles, forgets everything immediately except useless trivia that no one needs to know, for which he is guaranteed to have instant recall forever. He has unruly curly hair that he can't control, and wears polo shirts all the time because that way he doesn't have to worry about whether or not he looks nice. He refused to wear new clothes when he was little, and he is gifted and ADHD.

He is, in short, a fairly normal human being, with his good qualities and his bad points, and when added up together equal a pretty great, but hardly perfect person.

I am so grateful to have a son in my life. He has brought kites and baseball and fights with his friends on the front yard into my life. He has given me moments of great pride and moments of total humiliation. He has been the highest of highs, and the lowest of lows, in the biggest swing of the pendulum life has to offer.

At 25, he is who he will be, the framework nearly completed. Although the finishing work will take the rest of his life, you can see the outline of the person he is, and I am gratified. When we started this process, I thought I would be responsible for the outcome. I have learned that he was born his own person. I just provided the guidance system to get there more efficiently.

He makes mistakes, sometimes huge ones, and still has a lot to learn about life. But he takes his life lessons and moves ahead, and rarely needs to review what he got wrong the first time, because he is all about education, both in class and outside of it.

I don't know what the next 25 years will bring, but I do know this much. The other night, I sat at a table and listened to my son talk about me, and what he perceives to be my good attributes. Hearing his heartfelt appreciation for something that he has always taken for granted was touching to me, because I know there are a lot of people who wouldn't say those same words about their own parents.

No matter how many mistakes I have made, no matter how many things I've gotten wrong in his life, my son forgives me for the wrongs, and only holds on to the rights. We are not perfect, either one of us, and we have made our mistakes on his life's journey. But the child who made me a mother makes me proud and excited to see the future, even as I look back on the past with fond memories of days gone by.

Adam, we grew up together, and I am grateful for your patience and courage in trusting a mom who didn't even know which way to put on a diaper at the start. I think we have done well, you and I. You are no longer a boy - you are a man, and one I am very, very proud of.

Happy birthday, Sonshine, and many, many more are wished for you to come. I hope this day holds only good things for you as you get settled into your new place, and your new life. You know how much you are loved, not only because I say so, but because I have shown you every single day of your life, and I look back with confidence that you will never lose sight of that. I wish you a wonderful year in your new life, and I look forward to the stories to come.

Doing the Time Warp....

Time is an interesting thing. As modern, progressive humans, we have harnessed time by defining it in such a way that we can all agree on the details. There are 60 seconds in a minute, no matter where in the world you find yourself. There are 60 minutes in an hour, and 24 hours in a day, all 365 days a year. We have even accounted for the fact that it's not exactly that way by adding a leap year day every few years to even things up and make it nice and tidy.

And yet, time is flexible. We have all experienced how the clock seems to speed up when we are having fun, but moves almost imperceptibly when we are experiencing a difficult time.

And in the toughest of times, it seems that time itself goes both too fast and too slow, and you don't have enough of it while it drags by.

We are experiencing that last time warp around here this week, as my two children prepare themselves to go in opposite directions on the map and into the same new experience - a new school, a fresh start, and all the excitement that comes with it, while leaving behind everything that is comfortable and familiar and safe.

My son will begin his work towards his Ph.D., a path which he was destined to travel his entire life, although he didn't realize it himself until a couple years ago. He is, understandably, a little nervous about the change from the comfortable life of an undergrad in a school where he is well known and respected to a school where he is starting from the beginning. In his new program, he will have to prove himself once again, demonstrating that he is worthy of the awards and honors that they have already given him.

My daughter is embarking on the first big step away from home and into the fun and chaos of college life. She will be far enough away that she will be independent, on her own, and there will be no impromptu visits going in either direction. She will learn to live with roommates, navigate her own classes, learn to budget time and money, and experience all the fun that is a part of being a college student.

It truly seems like a heartbeat ago that I carried them next to my heart, and now I see them, each adults in progress, making their own way in the world without me to guide their path. It is exciting to see the transformation, and I look forward to watching from afar as they have new experiences that no longer include me, and learn things that I never knew.

Once you are a mother, you are a mother for life. I will never stop giving my best advice, challenging them to be the best they can be, prodding them to set high standards and reach for their own stars. I will always be there when they make their own mistakes, fall short of their personal best, trip over the hurdles, and run out of fuel halfway through space.

The old saying goes, life is a journey, not a destination. As each child journeys forth in the coming days into their own new worlds, I hope they know that they are never more than a heartbeat away from the safety of their mother's love and support.

We are a terrific team, we three. No matter where we are, no matter how far we go, the family circle is still surrounding us with love and caring and support.

I loved you enough to bring each of you to this day, and now I love you enough to release your future into your own hands. Go forth boldly and embrace the possibilities. You will never know what is out there unless you reach out and grab the opportunities that present themselves with your whole beings. Time has moved at warp speed, and you are on the threshold of your own experiences.

Live boldly, love fully, laugh loudly, learn enthusiastically, listen completely, and lean wisely. Guard your values and your reputation, and you will have no regrets. Your own life is knocking at the door. Open it and walk confidently into your exciting futures.

Just don't forget to wave once in a awhile!

I'm an Only Person....

I realized yesterday that I am now less than a month away from that moment in my life when I will become an Only Person.

I find that idea both exhilarating and nerve inducing, terrifying while also being thrilling. No matter what my future holds, my life will be different than it has ever been before. No longer will I have to consider anyone else in my daily activities. I will not be tied to anyone else's needs. I will be on my own, a free woman, a true single.

I will be free to make my own commitments, unhindered by unexpected demands made by someone else who comes first. As an Only Person, I get to be first, last, and only, at least to some extent. Not gonna lie; I am empowered by the thought.

My entire life, I have been an adjunct to someone else. I have been someone's daughter, someone's sister, someone's wife, someone's mother. Rarely have I been seen as my own person, even in the work world, as I surrounded myself with photos of the family that was out of sight, but never out of mind. My schedule, even as a working woman, has always revolved around the children whose lives were at the center of my daily life, and whose needs, and usually wants, have always been put first.

I am a fortunate woman, indeed, to have such a wonderful family. I am blessed with a mother who still drops everything to talk to me when I need her. She is there for me in a million big and little ways, each and every day of my life. But my existence is no longer defined by her time and attention. I am no longer identified by my relationship with her, as I was when I was young. Although she knows many of my friends, at least by name, she is known through me, rather than the other way around.

Since the day I found out my son was on the way, I have been a mom. I self-identified that way, and others identified me that way. My life has been directed by my children's activities and lives, and for the last 25 years, that has been who I am.

I have noticed when men meet, the first topic of discussion is always their career, no matter what the setting. They identify themselves by their work, first and foremost, and everything else is secondary.

When women meet, the first thing they discuss is marital status and motherhood, even when they are working women with high powered careers. We all identify ourselves, it seems, by our families, even when we are highly placed or powerful.

Hilary Clinton, the U.S. Secretary of State, recently revealed that her highest priority at this moment is her daughter's wedding, a statement that resonated for every woman who has either had a wedding or been the mother of the bride. It is the biggest moment in her daughter's life, and even someone as important as she knows what is most important in the big scheme of things. I doubt that she is neglecting her duties at the office; she is, if she is like every other woman, more likely neglecting herself in order to be all things to everyone who needs her.

In one month, however, my life changes radically, as the two people whose lives have been the driver for mine will both be on their own. For the first time in my life, I will answer only to me, at least on a day to day level. I don't have any illusions that I am not still going to be the mom, and that I won't still answer to my offspring! But how I spend each day will be totally up to me, for the first time in my whole life.

I have had a bucket list of things I've wanted to do since my kids were little, and there has never been time for any of it before. Perhaps now, at long last, I will finally find the time. Maybe I will go through 20 year old boxes and discard the former memories that I have now forgotten. Maybe I will look at cards given to me by people whose names have slipped my mind, and whose faces appear only in old photographs. Maybe I will finally start the process of reducing my possessions, once so important to me, and streamlining my life to suit a still relatively young and very single woman.

Or maybe, instead, I will simply lie on the sofa and read for entire weekends, living off popcorn and raspberry lemonade. I will be able to sleep late if I want to, go to church on Saturday night on a whim because I'm driving by anyway, or sit on the deck under the umbrella for hours while playing spider solitaire.

The possibilities are wide open, and I hardly know where to start. Many people fear this time of life, the empty nest, because it means they have to start anew on a life that has become familiar and comfortable, even if it's not quite what they had dreamed of back when it started.

Having started over several times in the last few years, I am no longer afraid of the new start. Having failed almost as many times in the same time span, I am not afraid of failure, either. I see it as the ultimate learning opportunity - a time to recognize what doesn't work for me - which is just as important as finding out what does.

I don't really know what the next few months will mean for me, and for my life, but I do know one thing for certain - I am excited to see where the journey leads me next. As the old saying goes, life is a journey, not a destination. Here's hoping the ETA is still a long ways away for me, because I've got too much ahead to arrive too soon.

An Unexpected Gift

When you grow up in Minnesota and spend your adult life mostly in Kansas City, seeing a mountain is a departure from your usual reality. It indicates time away from Real Life. It helps put life and whatever problems there may be into perspective, and triggers awed inspiration in even the most calloused of observers.

But there are perhaps no more wild and beautiful mountains than those found in the state of Alaska. We just returned from ten days amidst them, time spent visiting my sweet and generous brother, Charlie, and his caring and wonderful wife, Laurel. Seeing them makes the trip worthwhile, of course, in and of itself. The mountains are an added bonus for us.

We are lucky, because seeing our family on their home turf goes along with the additional thrill of a spectacular view from the front windows and the back ones, too. Whether you are sitting in the dining room or working in the kitchen, you have a view that is breathtaking and spectacular. [Well, you do as long as the mountains aren't socked in, as they were pretty much the entire time we were there. I brought my usual drought ending phenomenon to Alaska and saved them from the summer wildfires they usually experience this time of year.]

When you say Alaskan mountains, most people think of Mt. McKinley, the jewel of the Alaska Range. But for me, I think of other mountains, rugged, wild and accessible - at least if my brother is around. Because he will spare himself no effort in order to bring the full experience to us while we are there. And on this trip, since the mountains by his home weren't very available, he drove us halfway across the state to some that were. And what an unbelievable experience it was.

We were fortunate enough to visit the ghost town of Kennecott, located in the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. Kennecott is remote and isolated, 60 miles down a rough and rugged gravel road [the former railroad bed, in fact] from the nearest pavement.

Kennecott is an eerie remnant of the massive copper mining operation that produced over 5 million tons of copper ore during it's active life. The town was a bustling, thriving village at the end of an isolated, single rail line. Supplies were ordered from Seattle, and the only link with civilization was the train that was originally built to carry the copper ore away to be processed. It had to be a rather fragile and tenuous connection with the outside world. In consequence, they built up a town that was as modern as a turn of the century village in the middle of the Alaskan wilds could be.

When the good ore ran out, the village was abandoned, lock, stock and barrel. When my brother first visited the area in 1977, before it became a national landmark and any reclamation had been done, he found most of the abandoned town held in suspension, everything left in place, almost as if the people expected to be away a day or two and then return to pick up life where they left off.

Records were still in filing cabinets, dishes in the cupboards, furniture and equipment left where they were last in use. I can only imagine that the cost of removing everything exceeded the value of the items in question, and thus, the mining company opted to simply abandon it, rather than go to the expense of hauling it back out of the mountains again.

Fast forward a hundred years, and the town, with it's abandoned buildings and other detritus, has been named a national landmark. It is in the process of being restored, a project massive in scope, which has brought Kennecott back to life again with the influx of engineers and architects and forest service personnel. A supporting cast of restaurant, lodging and guide services have sprung up, too, and suddenly, the ghost town is bustling again.

Kennecott is hardly less remote today than it was back in 1900, and the journey there is a rough and ready reminder of just how isolated that area is. The pavement ends at Chitna, on the Copper River, known to salmon lovers for their world famous fish.

The 60 mile drive from Chitna to McCarthy, on the former railbed, running in the valley between two mountain ranges, is an awe inspiring journey through nature in its purest form, with new and ever more spectacular and breathtaking views around every curve. The forest, pressing in on the road the whole way, is teaming with wildlife native to the area, including bear, moose, and my personal favorite, porcupines.

We parked the van in McCarthy, the last "living" town at the end of the road, and walked over a footbridge to meet the shuttle that would take us into Kennecott. It is like a time warp, in many ways, blasting back into another world and another time.

From a distance, the copper mill looms over the little village, which itself overlooks the massive Root Glacier. The runoff from the mountainside on which it is perched, running through the middle of the town, has claimed many of the buildings that formerly made up the town. The evidence is everywhere of the buildings that have been shoved down the mountainside with the force of the water flowing through them as you can see them smashed and devastated in various places along the water's route.

The process of reclaiming the remaining buildings is well under way, however, with the water being harnessed and rerouted to the best advantage, not to control nature, but to work with it. The buildings are being moved up and out of the way, allowing the water to flow back in it's traditional place. It is a project of enormous scope, and it's clear that it will provide occupation for some time to come, as they are only beginning the long and arduous task of restoration.

The town is nestled on a mountainside, with trails leading in every direction. You can easily head down to the glacier, laid out below in it's spectacular expanse. You can, as easily, head higher into the mountains, aiming for the mines above where the ore was extracted and brought down the mountain to the mill.

The trails cut into the vast, green expanse looming above the town, leading the way to the promise of every mountaintop. When you climb those steep and unforgiving trails [the guide book called them relentlessly steep, which we agreed was a fair description] you feel on top of the world. It is an almost untouchable paradise, where you can easily commune with God and nature in equal measure.

Whatever mountaintop you achieve, there always seems to be one above it to reach for, and you feel small and insignificant as you see the panorama laid out below you. As with every mountain, the scale is deceptive - you feel like everything is right there, within easy range, and then you realize it's still just as far away as when you started.

There is no easy way to reach the heights of the mountaintop. There are no shortcuts in that natural setting. There are no trams, no trains, no gondolas or elevators. To reach your objective, you must make the climb, step by step,each one difficult and arduous, even as it takes your breath away to see the panorama laid out below you. The work to get there makes achieving the mountaintop even more thrilling, and knowing that few are willing to make that effort is rewarding in and of itself.

Every time I go to the mountains, I am awed anew by the wondrous beauty they present. The crashing of tectonic plates deep under the surface of the earth has produced a scene of such beauty and magnificence, words are simply inadequate to describe it.

As you make the climb into the otherworld of the mountains, your senses are almost assaulted by the rugged beauty of nature seldom seen. It is exciting to know that you are walking on territory seldom tread by human feet, and that you are communing with nature much as the earliest settlers did so long ago. What you see today is probably not much different than what they saw a hundred years ago, and I suspect that they were as awed and overwhelmed by their surroundings as we were.

The best part of all, however, comes when you have achieved your goal, and the journey back begins. The trails are not straight down, that would be far too steep. Instead, they zig zag back and forth across the mountainside, leading you from one side to the other, and on each turn, you are treated to yet another view. It is an unexpected gift each time you look up to see the scene has changed - familiar yet different.

The unending far northern daylight allowed us to arrive back at the lodge where we were staying at midnight, still in the light of the waning day. We had a view that was unparalleled the entire way down, not a moment of the wild beauty wasted. I was grateful to my brother and sister-in-law for taking me to the mountaintop, despite their own fatigue and desire to go to bed. It was a rare and unique opportunity for me, and one which I will never forget.

Nature, in her purest form, is simply not reproducible. I took pictures, of course, to remind myself of the experience. When I look at the limited two dimensional representation of that experience, I can conjure up in my memory the thrill of being there, and while it isn't enough, it is adequate, at least for the time being, until I can return and once again experience it for real.

A trip to visit my family is always a gift, and I am grateful for the time and the love we shared. The unexpected gift of the mountaintop, however, came straight from God.

A father for every day....

Father's Day is always a strange sort of day for me. I had a wonderful father, but lost him far too soon to appreciate what a father brings to your life, or the example that he sets. Thus, Father's Day is not so much bittersweet for me as it is a day off my radar, one that doesn't have a lot of meaning to me, from having rarely celebrated it.

Writing an ode to mothers comes easily and naturally for me. Not only do I have a wonderful mother, I am a mother, and I can easily find many things to say about both roles from long and mostly happy experience.

Writing an ode to fathers is something else again. It is difficult for me each year to find something meaningful to say when I know so little about what it means to be a good father. I know some general qualities, of course - I can go to Hallmark and read cards, like anyone else. I have also observed the reputation of fathers in popular culture, which seems to consist mostly of fulfilling the role of the buffoon in the family circle.

But I do know, from observing those families where the father is an active and valued participant that I have missed something special, something needed, something irreplaceable. Just as there is no substitute for a mother who is missing, there is no compensating for the loss of a father - not just the person, but the function and the role in the lives of their children.

I have often wondered how my life would have been different if my father had remained in it a few more years. What other choices might I have made? What different decisions would have been guided by his strength and wisdom?

There is substantial statistical evidence that fathers, whether they are there or not, have a long term impact on the welfare and happiness of their children over the course of their lives. When the father is missing, for whatever reason, his children are more likely to have trouble in school, to end up divorced themselves, to end up in prison, to have sex earlier and are more likely to get pregnant before they are in a supportive marriage themselves. They are more likely to join gangs, to not attend college, and to have a lower standard of living.

All of those things should be obvious, and yet, we have so many fatherless children in our society that it seems we have sought to trivialize the role a father plays, in order to spare our children the hurt of not having him in their lives. It is a huge disservice, not only to the fathers, but also to our children. They have a right to expect more out of a parent, and we, as a society, should set the bar higher for the men who should be there for their children.

Fathers are not ATM's, child support checks, or stupid buffoons to laugh at. Fathers bring important qualities to the table, qualities that both girls and boys need in order to be successful in their own lives. Instead of denigrating fathers, we should be glorifying those who are there for their families. If we built up the importance of fatherhood, instead of disregarding it, perhaps more children would have that model in their lives, which would benefit society as a whole, as well as their children.

It is possible to be separated from your children and still be involved. I know a father who lives in a different town that has made it a priority to be there for his child, and it shows. She has not felt the lack of a father in her life - on the contrary, she loves and values him for all he has done to be there for her, and she will no doubt look for those same qualities in the man she chooses to be the father of her own children.

It did not happen in a vacuum, of course. Her mother encouraged and enabled the interaction to happen, so that her daughter would have that very valuable person available in her life.

Not all fathers are capable of active participation, unfortunately. Some of them cannot even take care of themselves, to say nothing of children, and have no business being fathers in the first place. That is where other men - uncles, family friends, step-parents - need to step in and take on the role of model for children.

In my life, growing up in rural Norwegian Lutheran Minnesota, we don't wear our hearts on our sleeve. I had various men in my life, especially my uncles, offer to stand in for my father over the years. Mostly, I just turned them down, because there was no substitute for me, and it was too painful. In retrospect, I wish I had taken advantage of that opportunity more often, because I missed the valuable lessons each one had to offer me.

As I got older, I developed a greater appreciation for the qualities that could be found in each uncle. They are a varied lot, some funny, some serious, some playful, others no nonsense. I had something to learn from each one, a truth I figured out much too late in life.

There are a lot of fatherless children in your world today. Whether their father is alive or not, too many children are without that very important and necessary influence, and it is to the detriment of us all.

I encourage every man to step up to the plate, and be the father you should be. Remember that you are a critical part of your child's success, both when they are young, and into their future. Whether or not they go to college, have a stable family, and choose wisely for their own husband and the father of your grandchildren is directly correlated to your positive involvement in their lives. In short, you matter. Never lose sight of that, no matter how television or popular culture may dismiss your positive involvement.

But I encourage each man to go a step further. If you know a child who is in need of a father figure, whether they have a father or not, don't be afraid to step in and be a role model for them. Let them know what they need to hear from a father, because that may be the only way they will get that information.

Don't be afraid to put yourself out there, again and again, because you cannot know how important it may be, or what a difference you will make by taking that risk. A child who appears to be uninterested may just be scared, and you cannot predict when the wall will come down and you will be invited in.

I have spent a lot of time recently thinking about my own father, and what he brought into my life that I lost when he was gone.

He was, first and foremost, a loving and affectionate husband and father. My dad and mom never even disagreed in front of me; I don't think they ever had a fight at all. He would kiss and hug my mom freely, whenever he came into the house or saw her, and with obvious pleasure and passion, letting not only her, but everyone, know that she was the best thing about his day.

He was a perfectionist who got very stressed when things didn't go as he thought they should, but he was also a funny guy, a teaser with a ready laugh and a quick wit. He fulfilled his obligations without complaining, and accepted his responsibilities joyfully.

He took time for me, even when he was too busy, because he wanted to spend time with me. I wasn't a nuisance, even when I was asking a million questions and getting in the way, because he valued the time with me, and had a lot to teach me.

He allowed me to fail with guidance, so that I would learn how to do things right, and his lessons have remained with me my entire life. I understand such unexpected things as how engines work because he took the time to show me. I have wonderful memories of being in the barn with him, following him around, because he never shooed me away.

He was a Scout leader, and a 4-H leader. He was a hard worker, but also understood the value of relaxation. He loved to travel and to fish, and would plan our summer vacation for the first possible moment that we were out of school, because he couldn't wait to go and have some fun. Our vacations are some of the happiest memories of my childhood, and I can visualize him even now, in the back of the fishing boat, messing with the motor, holding his rod and reel, excited to be on the water with his family.

My dad gave to others, as well. He was always ready to bring along a niece or nephew on a camping expedition, and he treated them all with the same loving care he showed his own children. I've only recently come to understand how his life and death affected my cousins, who have their own memories and who miss him for their own reasons, the fact of which had never occurred to me before.

On Father's Day, I can only treasure the memories I have of a man that I loved deeply and who loved me selflessly in return. I am grateful for the uncles who partially helped to fill the void left by his absence, and I regret not saying so sooner. I encourage each man to be the father you should be, and to look around you to see who is being left out that you can invite into your world, and for whom you can be a role model.

I wish each child the father they deserve - one that is there for them every day, in every way a father should be. If you have that father, treat him with gratitude and thanksgiving, because you are fortunate. And if you don't, I encourage you to find a role model for yourself that brings what you need to learn about fathers to the table.

Happy Father's Day to every father. Although you are celebrated on this one day, know that you are critically important to your child every day of their life, and you make a difference to them. Embrace the responsibility, and you will be blessed in ways you cannot even imagine.