Grateful Heart

I am thankful for my Mom. Yesterday for Thanksgiving she showed up at my house with two pumpkin pies and a carrot cake. She helped set out all the food on the island. She made the gravy.

When the meal was finished, she washed the dishes and Kathy dried (thanks, Kathy!) 

She talked with her grandkids and soon-to-be granddaughter June, plus my in-laws and June's parents too.

This was my mom's first Thanksgiving without my dad. He passed away April 6, 2018. They had been married 56 years.

During my birthday Mother-daughter getaway trip this past September we made signs. Mom's has become her motto for this new season of widowhood: "Begin each day with a grateful heart." She hung it in her living room where she is sure to see it every morning.

She is choosing to be grateful for the life they had, and be gratetful for all she still has.

Dad used to always drive, because he liked to and she didn't, but she drove by herself from Hillsboro to the big city of Wichita. She has decided she likes coming straight down Broadway from Newton instead of getting on the speeding interstate, and that's fine.

I am so proud of how well she is navigating this unfamiliar road. This year I lost my dad, but I am so grateful I still have her.

They can't both be right!

While working in our lawn care business, I wear a radio headset, mainly to block out the noise of the mowers and blowers, but also to listen to music and news to help pass the time.
Not all stations come in clearly, so I am somewhat limited. I also never figured out how to pre-set stations, so I spend a lot of my day switching between 90.7 WAY-FM, a Christian station, and close on the dial 89.1, KMUW, the National Public Radio affiliate.
What I like the most on NPR are the in-depth interviews with authors. I also appreciate how they attempt to look at issues from many sides and include a number of different voices.
After a lawn is finished I will get in the truck cab with the stereo on KNSS Newstalk 1240 (my husband sets the station) and catch what Rush Limbaugh or Sean Hannity is saying that day.
Sometimes my head is spinning from left to right.
I just unlearned what I thought I learned. Or, I am trying to debunk what those guys are saying by remembering the facts.
"They can't both be right!" I think in frustration as they proclaim polar opposite positions.
Then one day the thought hit me:  They could both be wrong.
Just because they have differing views on issues doesn't mean that either one is right. Truth might be somewhere in the middle. Or somewhere over the rainbow.
Jesus said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life." Never has that little word in the middle meant more to me than now.
Jesus is truth. We will all do better if we pay more attention to his teachings and try to follow them than the shifting sands of today's media.
I voted today, which I feel is an important civic duty, but I don't have a lot of faith in the party I chose. Because it could be wrong, just like the other.
I am putting my faith in things above.

My days are numbered

I woke up thinking about "numbered days" so in my quiet time I am on the porch listening to the thunder and occasional bursts of rain and looking up the psalm.

"Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom." Psalm 90:12.

Today I am scheduled for a mammogram. That always makes me pause and contemplate the "what ifs." My family history includes breast cancer, so having my numbered days cut shorter by it seems more a possibility to me than it might to others.

My dad died this past April from colon cancer. I have been thinking about how he used his 78 years, especially after this past weekend's family gathering, which was the first time seeing all of his siblings since the funeral.

After being forced to retire due to health reasons, my dad found new purpose for his life in people. He numbered his days that included doctor's visits, chemo treatments and hospital stays by learning the names of all of the receptionists, nurses, technicians, and doctors who attended him, and then remembering them the next week.

I am counting the days to my 50th birthday on September 10  which is approaching at an alarming rate.

As a way to make the day count, I am inviting friends to join me in the Race for Freedom on Sept 8, a 5K (3.1 mile) race or walk put on by ICT SOS. Proceeds will go to organizations that are fighting human trafficking right here in Wichita.

The race starts in Indian Hills close to my house, and part of the course is on the river path that I run regularly.

In April my book club read "Girls Burn Brighter" which addressed human trafficking. After reading this heart-wrenching story about two girls caught in its web, I and others were motivated to do something. But what?

Using my birthday to encourage others to join me in this race is my small first step. Because my days are numbered and I want them to count.

To join my team, go to race4freedom.com and join Karen50. Thanks!

Jesus surrounds ESU

My daughter Laurel graduated from high school, as Grad Images so kindly reminded me via the USPS recently with this opportunity to purchase these pictures in her cap and gown (as if I hadn't already filled all of the memory in my phone with pics of her at various graduation events).

I am excited about Laurel going to college this fall, especially since her brothers chose the U.S. Air Force and Coast Guard. This will be my first time paging through the summer Bed Bath & Beyond circular and actually needing to purchase a cute shower caddy, XL twin sheets, and a turquoise trash can!

I have been concerned, though. I went to Tabor, a Christian college (which my husband, Dave, who also attended, often compares to a church camp, and in some aspects, he is right). She is going to Emporia State University, a secular school.

I want her to grow in her Christian walk, and I want her to be in the center of God's will.

At the last ESU campus visit day different clubs set up booths. I made sure we visited the Baptist Student Union booth. I met the director and was pleased he knew David Mitchell, our pastor. Since then I have learned that several of Emporia's BSU students are serving overseas on mission trips this summer, another plus in my book.

On our first visit our sophomore tour guide pointed out a house by campus that another Christian group uses every Friday to serve spaghetti lunches. She said she never missed, and it seemed to be a popular event.

So I was feeling a little better about sending my girl to live among the wolves (actually, hornets. "Stingers Up!").

Then one day a postcard from the university caught my eye. In big letters it said "ESU." E-S-U. Why did that sound so familiar?

It hit me. Put a "J" at thr beginning, add an "S" at the end. J-E-S-U-S. Jesus surrounds ESU.

Yes, God is everywhere. There is no place that we can run from his presence. Still, I made this sign to remind me that when my girl is away at ESU, Jesus will be all around her.

River Fest Posters

Dave and I have gone to the Wichita River Festival since before we were married. I  love looking at the past festival posters lined up along Century II.

1988 was our first. It had a colorful bird-like design for the poster with a white background (I will have to check if they have earlier ones further around the building). I blew off studying for mynfinals at Tabor College and we spent the entire day sunning on the riverbank watching the bathtub races.

1991 was fun because I was married and working as a student in WSU'S University Relations department, and we were in charge of an event called Talentfest.

1993 was memorable because it had record-setting rainfall during the festival, and ironically, the theme was "Splish, splash, a springtime bath," or something like that and the poster featured puddles. Dave's grandpa was sick in the hospital during that time, but we were able to attend our favorite events, and the festival had wrapped up before he died on May 22 (that's when it was earlier).

In 1996 Dave, baby Caleb and I had a picnic on a hill in A. Price Woodard Park for my very first Mother's Day.

In 2005 we entered a float with our friends at the Twin River Club. The poster featured a mermaid, and Marcia Hatfield happened to have a mermaid costume that her daughter Emily had outgrown, so she offered it to Laurel. Why yes, she would love to be a mermaid in the Sundown Parade!

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!