Celebrate the Shifts

In 1997, I was a stay-at-home mom of six children, ages two through fifteen, when I received an invitation from our pastor to attend a three-day conference in Chicago.

The conference was aimed at attracting and keeping twenty and thirty-year-olds into churches. Our bishop had instructed him to attend with one parishioner and then write a report.

The problem is that the pastor was also supposed to spend part of that weekend at his college reunion in another state. 

So the plan was for us to attend the conference together for half of that time and then I would stay overnight in Chicago for the last day (because I had transportation issues even back then).

At the end of that second day, before I headed to dinner, I went back to my room for a short while just to listen to music and celebrate the shift that had occurred in my life.

Now, I didn't know that by the following year, I'd be a single mother working several jobs around the clock, growing them all to see which ones "stuck."

I didn't know three years later I'd be remarried and living near the I&M Canal.

I didn't know five years later I'd be fighting for my life with a tumor so rare most people (including me) had never heard of it.

I didn't know eight years later we'd hold a ribbon-cutting in our backyard for the remodeling of three outbuildings as dedicated youth group space for our church.

And so forth.

But what I did feel was that shift in my life, a shift I've sensed at other times, too.

Honestly, to this day, I have no idea why I was selected for this conference. I wasn't part of any church group, church board, church anything, except for my attendance.

However, before grabbing my book and heading for a solitary dinner (that sounds lonesome until you reflect that dinners at home meant eating with a nursing baby on your lap and periodically jumping up to refill plates and run general interference among bickering children), I took a few moments to acknowledge that, to honor that, to even celebrate that.

The unknown is often a scary place.

But it's also an opportunity for growth.

New Beginnings

"Ugh," is often the first reaction to Monday morning from many of us.

And yet, are Mondays really any harder than the other six days? Is something terrible more likely to befall us on Monday than Tuesday through Sunday?

Probably not.

Now Mondays may be more hectic at work (they often are for me). But they are not horrible, just busy.

Still, I've had weekends that are busier. 

What if we adjusted our perception to "new beginnings," a stretch of fresh opportunities for...for...for  whatever our goals are?

Remember when reaching for the skies seemed possible?

Maybe it is, starting on Monday.

Just a thought.

Happy Monday!

Moving...Again: Some Random Thoughts

As someone who loves permanence, I never thought I'd be the one to move multiple times in my life, especially over the last few years.

When we moved to Channahon to start a new life as a blended family in the house my husband's parents built, I never thought I'd move again.

But I also didn't expect early-onset dementia in my husband and having to make the care decisions one typically reserves for my parents. By contract, my parents are 86, don't have dementia, (although my father is now in the very early stagers of Alzheimers), and are in pretty good health, even considering their age.

However, when my husband lost his job, we knew moving would only be a matter of time. My three youngest children and I (two at Joliet Junior College and one recent graduate) spent nine months at my parents, then nine months in an apartment, then four and a half years in a two bedroom townhome and then the youngest two and I moved three doors down into a three bedroom townhome, where we will all spend our last nights tonight.

We went to my parents because we had nowhere else to go.

We moved to the apartment when Shaw Media hired me as the features editor of The Herald-News and I rolled out of freelance work. The apartment was a strategic move because we only had one vehicle of iffy quality - and Timothy needed it for work. Rebekah and Daniel bussed to JJC, where they worked and went to school, and I walked to work.

Unless the weather was below zero, I walked. Unless I was working remotely, I walked every single day for about a mile and half each way to and from work, from May 2014 until we were sent home to work remotely in March 2020.

In the heat. Layered up and on ice. In the rain.

We walked our cats to the vet. We walked to Walmart for food and household items. We walked to the pharmacy. We had everything we needed in walking distance.

In those early years, I voluntarily shouldered most of the financial responsibility, with the kids taking on more as they graduated, moved into better paying jobs, and made more money.

During that time, Timothy was able to save for a new car. And then Daniel saved for a new car. And now Rebekah is nearly ready to buy a car.

Where is my car, you may ask?

When Timothy buys the new one, the older one will come to me for local trips, and that is a good start. If not for COVID and his holding off in buying a new car, that would have happened a year ago. 

I feel it's amazing what can be done, and the level of recovery that can be had, when people work together.

We are not moving far. But the space is definitely another upgrade. For one, these townhomes right next to each other are completely new contructions. They are three stories high. Each unit has a garage. Each unit has a hookup in the garage for a hose. These common place items to others are luxuries for us.

Timothy is moving into a two bedroom. We are moving into a three bedroom - with three bathrooms. The complex is beautiful.

Jasmine came down last night to help pack. She will be back this morning on her day off while Rebekah and I work upstairs. Cindy will be here tonight and back in the morning. The help is wonderful, especially since I threw out my back while favoring my injured knee while lifting something heavy.

I am working the weekend, so we need to get a lot done on Friday.

Everything felt organized until last night. Ugh.

I don't like packing or unpacking.

But I am excited for new beginnings.

During our marriage. Ron and I had two vans that we ran like taxi services when we ran a youth group for our church. Anyone who needed a ride, not just in the youth group but anyone, could get a ride from us.

And in my van-less years, I have been equally blessed by friends and family who've given me rides.

Rides to and from work assignments. Rides to work when temperatures were 20 below zero. Rides to the doctor or medical tests. Rides to and from WriteOn Joliet (with coffee and dinner ALWAYS included, thanks to my wonderful co-leader Tom Hernandez). Rides to miscellanous events that are too numerous to be named.

Not one person, not a single one, every asked a penny for gas. Ever.

So I feel with this move, we are headed in the right direction to meet a future we cannot see.

But because God, not me, is in the driver's seat.

Illustration by Kathleen Rose Van Pelt for "Bryony."

The Best of Times, the Worst of Times

If you were to ask anyone in my household right now, he or she might agree.

Everyone is going through major restructuring at their jobs, and no one is quite certain what that looks like.

So we're a bit tense at home right now. But it occurred to us last night that in a couple of weeks, everyone's routine will be vastly different than it was at the beginning of this month.

I'm not sure about you, but we thrive on routine and the occasional break from it. Developing a routine allows our tasks to run (somewhat) smoothly and provides the most productiveness for us.

So when that is shaken up, we tend to get a little shaken up - at least until we're able to understand what we're doing and mold out a new routine.

Such is our current definition of the worse of times. Now for the best.

Opportunities to learn and expand our skills into arenas we didn't think we could. New routines emerging from the old and giving us new experiences and new ways or looking at our day. 

In a season for us when we're still singing Christ is Risen and will be for a few more weeks, when our minds are on "Behold, I am doing a new thing, now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?" (Isaiah 43:19), which follows with, "I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert," shouldn't we be excited that God takes old routines and "like a robe you will roll them up, like a garment they will be changed." (Hebrews 1:12)

In faith, we are moving in that direction. For now, I think Dickens applies.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way. (Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities)

Illustration by Christopher Gleason for "Staked!"