ice fishing

I sat next to a woman on my flight to Minneapolis (layover to Arizona) who moved to Omaha in June from India. She and her husband met on the internet, and she talked of what a blessing it was to find him because he was from the same region in India and from the same caste and their parents were very pleased with the match. Now she is in Omaha and she talked about being homesick and lonesome. She is a cricket coach for an Indian team and was travelling on to London for three months where they would be in training. But she wouldn't be able to go home.

We flew to Minneapolis and I explained that I could see my parents house if we took a certain flight pattern and that I, too, feel homesick sometimes. We were looking out the window, a ways out from the cities when I pointed out all of the ice houses on the lakes.

I have never had the honor of explaining ice fishing to someone who has never heard of this sport before. I explained how you drill through the ice to make your hole, how people sit in their little ice houses for hours, how many are heated and some even have televisions. Her eyes were as big as saucers, and the whole concept did seem quite strange as I kept explaining this winter phenomenon.

Then, a few days ago, I got an email from my good college friend, Erik, who is the quintessential Minnesota outdoor enthusiast. He hunts, fishes, snowmobiles, and I think he even spear fishes... Anyway, he sent me a link to a ice fishing competition he and his family fished in this past weekend. Over 20,000 holes are drilled on a lake in Brainerd, Minnesota and the biggest fish wins $150,000! I read the articles about this tournament and suddenly felt my eyes as big as saucers like my new Indian friend. You can read more about the tournament here. The picture below is lots and lots of people standing on blue ice and white snow...

passing on the faith

We are right in the middle of 'Believing God' and I am, once again, learning so much. But for me the coolest thing about the study this time around is getting to do this Bible Study with my mom and my grandma. Not to mention the women from all different parts of my life who have also joined in this online study. It is a sweet community, and I am grateful.

When I was in Mesa, I found this list taped to my grandma's bathroom mirror. It's the five statements that the study is based upon, and part of the study is to memorize them. I saw them taped on her mirror, in her handwriting, and in that moment realized what a true treasure this opportunity truly is... to get to study and learn God's Word with my grandma. My heart overflows with thanksgiving for this sweet 10 weeks of growing in faith with her, and for her strong example to never stop learning God's commands and to always follow Jesus.

craft night + movie night

I saw this post at Little Birdie Secrets and was inspired to get my scissors out again. I think one of the very best parts of blogland for me, is that I see projects like this and think, 'so I can still make simple little elementary school crafts?!!' Of course nothing was stopping me, but if I didn't know of the crafty world out there that snips and tapes, I might just think this part of my personality was simply meant to be an elementary school teacher. But here, at age 28, I have fully embraced my love of glue, punches, tape and ribbon (I almost wrote glitter, but no, I don't really like glitter yet. I enjoy cleanliness too much to enjoy glitter.) and my evenings are all the more enjoyable because of it.

And, since marriage is give and take and since Rory loves watching movies with me that he has tivo'd, and since I have a hard time sitting still when I'm home, he picked the movie and I picked the craft. Craft: heart strings. Movie: borat. Oh my word. Thankfully it was the television version, but again, please picture me with my innocent hearts watching this man do offensive things all night long. All I can say is...I CAN'T WAIT FOR OPENING CEREMONIES!!!

the short story...

Rory gave me this book for Christmas. We saw the movie Sweetland just after we got married at a movie theatre in Duluth. I was then working at the nursing home and was on a mission to record the life stories of my residents. When we saw this movie, I was overcome...it is the life story of a hardworking farming couple in Minnesota. It basically was the story I had heard over and over at the nursing home, and seeing it in movie form made me sentimental and grateful. I cried so hard during the credits it was socially awkward.

So this Christmas, Rory got me this book, a collection of short stories by Will Weaver, one of which was the original story that the movie, Sweetland, was based upon.

I read this book in a few days. And I feel like I discovered a new friend: the short story! I remember reading short stories in school once in a while, but those stories were assigned, and I never really have appreciated any assigned reading, just because it was assigned. But this book was delightful...each story based on midwestern folk, stories that felt true to life and human nature.

I'd recommend it. The back cover describes the books as "a vivid portrait of swirling, intergenerational changes in the Midwest," and each story carries this theme in someway. (There is one story that doesn't fit in with the others, but I'll let you read it to figure that out!)

So here's my question: Does anyone have any other favorite collections of short stories to share? I feel like I just stumbled upon a new favorite pasttime...sort of like finding a new 30 minute tv show you like...it doesn't take a lot of time, but it does the trick when you need to clear your mind.

Anyway, if you have a favorite book or author that writes good short stories, please, share! I'd love to stay on this short story kick for a while.

gil and virginia

Cozy up for a love story. One of the best I know.

I worked at a nursing home for two years in Minneapolis wearing a couple different hats. One was to lead activities on the advanced alzheimer’s floor. Memory loss is a mean and cruel thing, and my job was to lead activities and faith conversations to help create community, provide comfort and bring a bit of fun to the third floor.

This was a challenging job for me, especially in the beginning. Asking about pictures on the wall would lead to confusion, frustration and sadness. It took me a while to figure out how to hold conversations pertaining to the very moment we were living in. I have a few memorable conversations about the wonder of doorknobs, scooting around in slippers and long motorcycle rides that one woman took each day in her mind.

I learned so much during those two years about family, faithfulness and love. Gil was a retired Lutheran pastor who faithfully visited his wife, Virginia, every single day for hours at a time. Virginia spent her days nervously wandering up and down the hall. When Gil arrived each day she would look right at him and begin to repeat over and over, “Oh Gil, I’m so scared. I’m just so scared. Gil. I am so scared.” And Gil would lead her to the couch and sit next to her, telling her there is nothing to be afraid of. And after a while, Virginia would stand and Gil would pull her gently down onto his lap, telling her over and over again there was nothing to fear. He would stroke her hair, hug her shoulders and rock her back and forth. Virginia would curl her body up like a little kid, and tuck her head into his neck. And Gil would whisper promises to Virginia, “It’s okay. I’m here. There is nothing to be afraid of. You are safe here.”

Rory and I were very newly wed when I knew Gil and Virginia and I remember coming home often and asking Rory if he’d still hold me when I was 85. And we would wonder about what it would be like to be married that long, knowing each other so well, and what it would be like to walk down a road so dark. We would wonder about our own road ahead, humbled that we just don’t know what our future holds.

But there was so much comfort in witnessing this clear picture of love. And so much peace knowing that God has set us up in marriage so that we may have a best friend for life. Someone to hold, to gently rock, and to comfort.