Mother-in-love

I am a mother-in-law. I have been since February 15, and I am thrilled.

Harrison and Olivia started dating a few months before he left for the Coast Guard. They continued their relationship through AT&T, which required a hefty upgrade to our phone plan when he was stationed on a ship in international waters for three months.

In December, when Harrison learned he would be stationed in Astoria, Oregon for the next three years, he wanted her to join him, and she did.

My friend Barbara says her mother-in-law Lorie Rumsey always referred to her as her daughter-in-love. I love that! I am tempted to adopt that as well, especially since I knew and loved Lorie Rumsey as well, and would love to do that as a tribute to a truly great lady.

Still, I am reluctant to give up the "law" part of the title. I am happy that my son is so committed to caring for Olivia that he made it official. I am happy Olivia loves him so much she gladly took his name and followed him halfway across the country to share in this great adventure called marriage.

Whenever they post pictures of them on their frequent mountain hikes or seaside strolls, they have huge smiles on their faces. It makes me so happy to see them enjoying being together and taking advantage of living in such a cool place.

I love my son, but I know my love for him can't--and shouldn't--be central in his life. Suddenly the verse "For this reason a man shall leave his father and his mother and the two shall become one flesh" makes even more sense seeing it from the other side.

So now I have another daughter, which is a wonderful bonus because she and Laurel have become good friends. In fact, they both have two brothers, but no sisters, so they both gained the sister they never had.

I had a wonderful mother-in-law for what turned out to be 17 short years. When I think of Janet Franklin, I think of her unconditional love for her kids, her grandkids, and for me.

So to my new daughter-in-law, I want to be a mother-in-love. Not a mother-in-law who is legally bound to put up with her, but an extra mom who chooses to love her unconditionally.

"Where's My Bra?"or "How I Found My Bosom Buddy"

I signed up for our church's Women's Retreat in Estes Park, and I am really looking forward to it. I went two years ago and had a great time hiking up Flattop Mountain and even made it to Hallett's Peak. Here I am with our group. I was the only one crazy enough to wear shorts! (Yes, I was cold, but just when we were above the tree line).

The morning of our hike, I had a rocky start. We were all staying in bunkhouse-style rooms with several other women. Only one other woman in my room had signed up for my hike, which was leaving early in the morning. The night before, we gathered our hiking gear and everything we would need, so we wouldn't bother the others who were still sleeping.

When my alarm went off, I quietly got ready, but I couldn't find my running belt. I had planned to carry my camera phone in it because I didn't have a pocket. I frantically looked again at the place where I had piled my gear, but the belt wasn't there. Everyone else was ready and gathered in the lobby, but I went back to the room, grabbed my duffel bag, brought it out into the lighted hallway and pawed through all of my things. After double-and triple-checking everything, I finally found the black belt at the bottom of the black bag. Relieved, I tossed my bag back by my bunk bed and joined the group.

After returning from our hike, we took turns showering before our evening activities. As I was getting dressed, I couldn't find my bra. I looked through my bag again, but it wasn't in there. I looked around my area, under my bed. Nothing.

I knew I had brought it, because I had worn it on the drive up. I really didn't want to put my sweaty sports bra that I'd worn on the hike back on, but I was getting desperate. Finally I asked the other women getting ready, "Has anyone seen my bra?"

One woman (I'll call her Tina, because that's her name) got a funny look on her face. She looked through her suitcase and sure enough, she had my bra. She said that during the day she'd seen what she thought was her bra on the floor. She didn't know how it had gotten there, but she'd put it back with her things.

I was a little annoyed at having to look for my things twice in one day, and I was also embarrassed to be "that person" in the group that obviously didn't have her stuff together. I was also a little confused that Tina had gotten our bras mixed up, but then she showed me.

It was the same tan full coverage Victoria's Secret bra, with a little charm decoration and cutout. Same band size, same cup size. EXACTLY the same. What were the chances?

 And THAT is how I found my bosom buddy!

Come to the Table

This past Saturday night was a beautiful, magical night celebrating the graduation of Katherine Baldessari and several other of her Kapaun classmates at the Hand's home. We were honored to be invited, especially since the only family we knew was the Baldessaris.

The rain, which had earlier been predicted for the evening, held off.

I spent time in a deck chair enjoying the lights on the pool and listening to the mariachi band.

The kids had a good time hanging out. Here is Caleb and June with her sisters Genevieve and Katherine (the graduate) and Laurel.

I didn't get a good picture of Donna Baldessari, so here she is with her daughters at Bartlett Arboretum, when we celebrated Mother's Day with them last week. I have been wanting to write about when we first met them for a while now.

Caleb and June started dating in January. She told me that her mom was good at all things domestic. I was inclined to believe her, because Caleb was continually invited to large family dinners every Sunday evening, and he told tales of plentiful, amazing food.

My dad's cancer was progressing, and much of our attention in February and March was focusing on his illness and figuring how we could help Mom manage. We celebrated Easter in Hillsboro with my family on Saturday, when my sister and her family from South Dakota could be there.

My dad was so much worse we were realizing that hospice alone was not going to be enough for Mom, so my sister made the tough but in hindsight very good decision to stay, so her family went home without her.

On Sunday morning, Easter morning, we were back in Wichita. We went to church, but we were depleted. Our hearts were heavy with thoughts of my dad. We had no plans. Except for Caleb, who was having lunch with the Baldessari's. When we were walking out of church at 12:10 p.m., we noticed several urgent texts from Caleb. We had been invited for Easter dinner as well, eating at 12:30 p.m. He sent their College Hill address. We had seconds to decide. We'd been wanting to meet June's parents, and although we weren't sure we felt like socializing, we went, showing up empty-handed.

So we met June's parents, John and Donna, who immediately made us feel at ease with their welcoming and engaging conversation. We also met their oldest daughter Marie's boyfriend's parents, who were from Omaha, a city we used to love visiting when my sister Lois and her family lived there.

Donna had put two dining room tables together and covered both with white cloths. One table was oval, so she made sure her youngest daughter, Genevieve, and John sat on the awkward cracks. All 13 people had a place at the table, and we passed the large platters and bowls of food around, family-style.

(I found out later she had borrowed the table from neighbors who were out of town, neighbors who had left in a rush due to a family emergency of their own. When she called to ask permission to use the table, they said sure, but she would need to clear it, because the dishes from their last interrupted meal were still on it. So she did.)

The food was wonderful. Twice-smoked ham from someone in their parish who knows how to do it. A leafy spinach salad with fresh strawberries, a sweet potato casserole brought by the Omaha mom.  Incredible homemade blueberry cake with lemon frosting for June's birthday, which was coming up on Tuesday. The conversation flowed easily, and John invited all of us to come along on the various camping and hiking trips he was planning for the summer.
 Usually we host for Easter, inviting Dave's extended family and my parents. But this wasn't a usual Easter, and about a week earlier Dave had texted his family that we weren't able to do it. Attending a gathering where we had contributed nothing and had nothing to control was a different experience.
Sitting on the receiving end of such generous hospitality was humbling and healing. A welcome respite for our weary souls.

Girl Power

Franklin Lawn Service has a returning employee! We are happy to have a skilled worker, and I am thrilled because I will have Mondays off. Yeah for Mom!

Three years ago our daughter, Laurel, worked with Dave and me in our business. At that time our son, Harrison, was also on the crew. I can't even remember how much she worked, I think we had sort of a staggered schedule. Our oldest son, Caleb, was in tech school. She did a good job.

However, when she became old enough to lifeguard (15), she followed the siren song of the water and spent the next two summers at the Twin River Club. She enjoyed teaching swimming lessons and directing the synchronized swimming show.

But college is looming (Emporia State, planning to major in pre-art therapy) and so are the bills, so she made the smart decision to earn as much as possible this summer. She has to put up with working all day with her parents, but hey, a job is a job.

I appreciate having a female around, especially when things like flying tennis balls hit me in tender places (see previous blog). Dave, on the mower, was unaware that anything even happened, but Laurel came over to me and said, "Mom, are you all right? Why don't you just take a minute? I'll finish trimming this yard."

It's going to be a great summer!

Job hazards, or, "Tennis, anyone?"

Working in lawn care has its hazards. Yesterday I was trimming in an overgrown back yard and someone (my husband, Dave) was using the ZTR riding mower.
All of a sudden I felt something slam into my left breast. I doubled over and nearly got the wind knocked out of me as I gasped from surprise and a sharp pain. Dave's open chute lawn mower had propelled a tennis ball 20 feet before I stopped it with my mammary gland.
You can see the mark it left on my grimy t-shirt, right on the "ice" in "Service," which is what I needed to put on it once I got home. I am waiting for a purple bruise (but don't wait for THOSE photos, sorry).
I see that Serena Williams can serve a tennis ball at 130 mph on a good day. I am wondering how fast the ZTR mower served it to me. Surely people have inadvertently gotten in the way of a serve before. I guess I need to toughen up.

Meeting my sister halfway

This past July I had the wonderful pleasure of uninterrupted time with my sister. We spent two nights in an amazing bed-and-breakfast inn outside of Lincoln, Nebraska and enjoyed the day sightseeing and shopping.

The weekend was much overdue. You see, last year Lois had a significant birthday, one that the greeting cards often rhyme with "Nifty." I didn't do anything.

In my defense, her birthday is at the end of May, and my son Harrison graduated from high school, so I was busy. Lois' daughter Bethany graduated as well, so we were even at their home in South Dakota for Bethany's graduation and party, but we didn't do anything for Lois' birthday coming up the next week. I wanted to plan a sister weekend getaway, but my family traveled so much last year I couldn't imagine adding another trip.

This year May 28 (her birthday) came and went. Nothing. As you can see, planning and making decisions are not my strong suit. I finally called and apologized to Lois for my dismal lack celebratory efforts, and I told her my idea of a sister getaway. She gave me a few weekends she had available this summer, I got to work.

I figured the simplest way to make this happen was for both of us to drive and meet halfway. We are both about four hours from York, Nebraska. I did a little online research and found the Prairie Creek Inn outside of Lincoln. Since I was already down for two birthdays, I booked two nights.

Growing up, Lois and I got along pretty well, except for one summer when we were constantly fighting over a trade deal gone bad. (Seriously, I am pretty sure one of us traded a little ring box for a cardboard Tart 'n Tinies candy box, had remorse, and fought the whole summer trying to renegotiate. The WHOLE summer. It also happened to be 1977, the summer Mom was pregnant with our brother David. At times the battles raged so fiercely that she has said she was almost questioning the wisdom of having another child. Sorry, Mom).

Peace at last- Lois and I decided to become friends some time after our brother David was born.

But eventually we decided to be friends, and have had a good relationship ever since. The problem has always been distance. A few years after Lois and Craig were married they moved to Omaha, a six-hour drive from Wichita. Then about 12 years ago they moved to Menno, South Dakoka, a nine-hour drive. So our visits averaged about twice a year.

And even then, with babies and little kids, we had no time to talk. Visits would be over and we still would have much to say.

That's why I was super excited in May 2013. Lois had earned a trip to Hawaii with Creative Memories, but her husband Craig couldn't go, so she asked me. Yes, I was excited to go to Hawaii of course, but being able to spend five days together with my sister with no kids and responsibilities was unprecedented. When we finally met in the Denver airport and hugged each other, I knew that even if we were unable to make our flight to Honolulu and had to spend the five days in the Denver airport, we would still have a good time. (Thankfully, that's not what happened, but I am serious about this. After all, the airport has Starbucks).

May 2013- Lois and Karen meeting in the Denver airport on our way to Hawaii

Although we had an amazing time in Hawaii, that was four years ago. Quite a lot has happened since then, so in planning our weekend, I wanted to make sure we had time to talk.

That Friday, Dave and I got up extra early to get our lawns mowed (we are the owners and sole employees of Franklin Lawn Service). The boss let me go around noon while he finished the rest of the route. I texted Lois when I was ready to leave (only about 25 minutes later than the target).

Since I was going straight to the B&B which is southeast of Lincoln, my GPS routed me off of the interstate and onto some Nebraska roads. I took the road less traveled and enjoyed the rural scenery. Lois missed and exit and got stuck in Lincoln's rush hour traffic (which isn't all that bad. Lincoln's not that big), but she pulled up at the Prairie Creek Inn only two minutes after me.

We're here! The Prairie Creek Inn near Lincoln, Nebraska

We got a brief tour and checked out our room. A bookcase in the sitting area outside our room had some familiar Christian titles, so we suspected the owners, Bruce and Maureen, were believers.

Our room had a quilt and antique furnishings

The other guests were going to be out until 9 p.m., so we had the place to ourselves for dinner. I had told Lois I would bring salads for us, and she offered to bring pasta salad, so we relaxed on the wide wraparound porch and enjoyed the peaceful evening.

I brought a strawberry spinach salad

Lois brought real plates for her pasta salad

We took a walk around the grounds, checked out the short prairie walk and took a few pictures.

The lake was only a short walk away.

We took a walk in the morning as well, enjoying the sunrise and working up an appetite before breakfast.

We opted to have our breakfast on the porch.

We had a good talk at breakfast. I shared some things from the past few years that I hadn't wanted to talk about over the phone. It was good to have uninterrupted face-to-face time.

I'd found a Top Ten list of things in Lincoln. Visiting the Sunken Gardens was #2, so we headed there. It was pretty, although smaller in area than Botanica in Wichita.

The domed entrance was cool.

The Sunken Gardens in Lincoln, Nebraska

We had enjoyed the unusually cool July morning, but the day was growing hot, so we moved on to #12 on the list, the Sheldon Museum of Art because we figured it would have good air conditioning. I hadn't realized that it was on the University of Nebraska campus. We enjoyed seeing the art.

Sheldon Museum of Art

I liked the Impressionists

After a while, it was time to go to The Corky Canvas, where we had pre-registered for a craft session.

We have our plain pine boards, and we are ready to create!

We sat across from some sisters, we got one of them to take our picture. We sanded and stained the boards, then applied stencils that we'd chosen online a few weeks before. Lois was a pro using the vinyl stencils because of her time working at Signs Now in Omaha way back before kids.

A few hours later, we're done!

 We headed to the Haymarket area to shop and have dinner.

Yum!

We both love pasta, and we both thoroughly enjoyed our entrees. Vincenzo's Ristorante was listed as the best Italian restaurant in Lincoln. Although the weather was still a little warm, we enjoyed sitting outside and watching people coming to the Haymarket district for the evening.

I loved the succulents in the restaurant's flower boxes.

We headed back to the Prairie Creek Inn. We sat on the porch with the other couples staying at the Inn. They were all from Omaha. Since Lois had lived in Omaha for a dozen years and ran a successful Creative Memories business, we thought surely they would know someone in common, but they never found any significant connections. We all enjoyed the view of the moon rising over the barn.

Breakfast with the Omaha couples in the dining room.

 When Lois and I were planning this weekend, she suggested attending church with the only people we know in Lincoln--our cousin Kevin and his wife, Natalie. However, they told her they were going to be out of town that weekend. Their girls, however, would be attending and playing on the worship team. Lois and I looked up Country Bible Church and realized it was outside of Lincoln. Not too far, actually, from the Bed and Breakfast. After our Sunday morning breakfast, I went upstairs to get ready for second service. Lois burst into our room a while later.

"Karen, I've found the connection!" she said excitedly.
Lois had been visiting with Maureen, the B&B owner, while she was cleaning up breakfast. Lois mentioned we were going to church. Maureen said they went to a country church close to there. "Is it Country Bible Church?" she asked.

Yes, it was. Yes, they knew Kevin and Natalie Ediger, had for years. Maureen and Kevin served on the same team. Of course they did! We laughed really hard at the coincidence. Not as hard as when we found out that Soul Surfer Bethany Hamilton was marrying a Adam from Parkview M.B. in Hillsboro and would be having a wedding reception there, but it was close to that kind of moment.

We spent longer saying goodbye to the Omaha couples than we should have, and then I had to get gas (Bruce had told me there was a Casey's on the way, which was good, because I was on E and we really were out in the country). So we were a little late when we were ushered in to the church, the sanctuary was darkened and they were already singing. The chairs were in three sections, laid out very similar to West Ridge. And the usher sat us in the left side of the center section, a few rows back from the front. Exactly where I sit at West Ridge with my family every week. I call coincidences like that a smile from God. I felt immediately at home.

This is just like where I sit in my church every Sunday!

 After a few worship songs, they brought up the lights and had us meet the ones around us, we noticed who was sitting directly behind us--Maureen and Bruce!

Maureen and Bruce, owners of the Prairie Creek Inn

 After the church service had to get a picture with Kevin and Natalie's girls to show that we had been there and heard them play on the worship team. After all, it was a Sisters Weekend!

Holding on to You

At the most recent Final Friday, I purchased a piece of art. A small sculpture, created by an up-and-coming new artist:  my daughter.

Laurel heard about the "Beneath the Surface" art show and silent auction through her art classes at North High. The show was to highlight February as teen dating violence awareness and prevention month, and proceeds were to go to the Wichita Sexual Assault Center.

Thankfully, Laurel doesn't have first-hand experience with dating violence, but she decided to create a piece for the show anyway. She sculpted a girl out of clay that she imagined was hurt and vulnerable.

Laurel intended to sell her work, but as the girl's form took shape and made it through the kiln unscathed, she began to reconsider. After adding a finishing glaze, she was thinking she might want to keep her. However, Laurel was hoping that if the piece spoke to someone, they would purchase it. So when she submitted the piece, she marked that the art was available for sale.

She named the piece, "Holding on to You," at the suggestion of her classmates. Someone had created a piece "Tear in my Heart," and another had "Polarized" which were all twenty one pilots songs, so hers made a trifecta.

The show was at the Vertigo 232 Gallery, above Hewitt's Antiques. Laurel was a little disappointed when she visited the show. Instead of her sculpture being displayed with the other artwork, it was grouped with the auction items, meaning it was sharing space with the likes of a Mary Kay basket and a weekend getaway package.

Laurel Franklin's sculpture "Holding on to You" at the silent auction

When I got to the show, the bidding had already begun. I upped the bid by $5. The dad of another art student joked that the price would stay there, since people would see that the Mom had put in a bid. He was right. I got a call the next week saying my bid had won. I went downtown to redeem my prize.

When I got home, I tried to find a suitable place to display my art. Just putting her on an end table by my Kleenex box didn't seem quite right.

My coffee table has a glass top, and seeing her suspended in air didn't give the right setting. Plus, she didn't really go with the flower arrangement and candles I had sitting there, and if I cleaned it off, it was too big of an expanse for her anyway.

My marble-topped plant stand that I have in my entryway was the right size, but I didn't think that was the right setting for her either.

Then I tried my wall shelf. On it, I happen to have a wooden cross given to me by my friend Debbie Ford. She gave it to me on a dark day in January when my dad was seriously ill in the hospital. Her dad had made this cross and many like it before his death over a year ago.

When I placed the sculpture on the shelf, everything changed. Suddenly, she was at the foot of the cross. Yes, she was still vulnerable. Yes, her heart still ached. But now, "Holding on to You" didn't seem desolate and futile. Her head was still bowed, not in desperation, but reverence. Now there was hope.

Laurel Franklin's sculpture "Holding on to You" at the foot of the cross

When Laurel got home, she said, "I see you put my sculpture by the cross."

"Yes, I love it there. I think it shows hope." I said.

"I agree," she said. "That's what art does. It speaks differently to different people. That's the beauty of it."