Eight…..8…..Eight…..

This has to stop. I wish I had a pause button. I wish I could gather the young people that are hurting tonight and give them a warm meal, a hug and a safe place to lay their head. I wish a city in western ND didn’t have to bury the 8th student this school year. 8. Yes, you read that correctly, Eight Kids. Mental health. Car accidents. Murder. Illness. Suicide. 8.

That’s 8 less future carpenters, doctors, parents, engineers, life-savers. 8.

How many more I ask?

This is one town. In one state. In one Country. Think about that. Start doing some basic math, even if it was as low as 8 per state that still makes 400 student deaths. In one school year. A cure for cancer? Might have just died. A fix for global warming? Might have just died. The chef for you 80th Birthday party? Might have just died.

How many more I ask?

“Kids have it so easy today. Kids today are so spoiled. Kids need better parents. It’s social media’s fault. It’s all the smart phones. It’s the lack of hard, physical work. These kids just need some good, old fashioned discipline.”

Have you heard any of these? Have you said any of these?

Mental health issues suck. Depression sucks. Anxiety sucks. Feeling lost and alone sucks. Addiction sucks. As an adult with coping skills and a strong network of friends these things suck. Imagine as a kid without a strong family or without friends and certainly without some of the coping skills. You just went to the next level of “sucks.” But Death is worse.

Do you ever gather around the water cooler or break room table at work and someone comments that they are really struggling right now with anxiety? Doubtful. If someone did, would they receive support? Blank stares? Or perhaps a comment like “Oh suck it up! Put on your Big-Girl-Panties!”

Do you ever ask for recommendations for a good car mechanic? How about a dentist? Eye doctor? Restaurant? Movie reviews?

What about recommendations for a good therapist or counselor or psychologist, psychiatrist, life-coach?

Why is it so easy to ask and answer the first list of questions? Why don’t we ever ask or answer the second list? Are they not just as important? Or even MORE important?

My Tattoo from this summer. Purple for epilepsy awareness, green for Cerebral Palsy awareness, Defy Normal cuz that is what our household does.

8 Potential film directors. 8 potential restaurant owners. 8 potential therapists. 8 potential Police Officers. Gone.

When will we take action? at 10? or 12? or is it 25? 100? How many youth need to die before you decide to make a difference? Does it have to be your child? What if your loved one becomes number 9 or number 10 or number 100? Does it matter then?

How is it that we have gotten so far down this road that life does not matter any more? How is it that it is more important to have a positive image in the eyes of a friend or family member or your supervisor or your employer than it is to take care of one another?

What are you going to do? Anything? Nothing? You say it’s not your problem. Oh but it is. If you make the wise-cracks at work about kids these days, you are part of the problem. If you are the boss or the employer that is so rigid that an employee is scared to take time off to see their therapist or counselor, you are part of the problem. If you believe that the next generation should just conform to how things have always been, you are part of the problem. If you see and acknowledge the problem but still choose to do nothing, you are still part of the problem.

If you are raising young people, HUG them, love them, give them boundaries. PUT DOWN YOUR PHONE. Go out for ice cream or a frappuccino. Listen to them. Engage in what is important to them. Have some house rules and stick to them. Eat together. At a table. With no phones. Try it once….you might enjoy it. (PS doesn’t matter what you eat, take-out, cereal or a four-course meal!)

If you are not currently raising young people, get involved. Volunteer. Maybe it is to read a book to an elementary class. Maybe it is to teach a skill to a school group. Maybe you ask a youngster to help you learn your new smartphone. Show-up. Go to the basketball game. Congratulate the kid that scored. Volunteer at your local church. Mentor someone. Listen. Be the one that kid number 9 can call when they feel they have no place else to turn. Be the hug or the warm meal or a safe place to sleep.

Smile. Complement a stranger. Help a stranger. Forgive. Such a small word. Such a big impact. If someone did you wrong – forgive them. (You will never forget, but you can forgive.) There is this magical power that comes from forgiveness. It is a weight off your shoulders. That makes you a little lighter in your step.

Be kind. Every person has their own set of struggles and quite frankly you have no idea how big or small they might be. Saying “Good Morning” or opening a door or sometimes just listening can be the life vest of hope that one person needs. Because “kids these days” are watching. What you do at the grocery store, just might inspire a kid to do the same. And that may be the difference in saving number 9.

Since I started writing this a few days ago, it came to my attention that on a slippery Friday night in ND an older gentleman fell and his wife wasn’t able to help him up. She came across two high school boys and asked if they could help. Without a second thought, they did. No recognition wanted or needed. Just doing what was right. Kids these days.

Lets stop at 8. YOU can make a difference.

• Is it too risky to help someone?
• Is it too risky to save a life?
• Is saving one life worth it?

Till next time, be kind.

Deb

This tree is a favorite of so many people that grew up driving this gravel road. It stands alone, but it stands. It has faced many, many storms but still stands.

Girlfriends. Peeps. Tribe.

Girlfriends. Your peeps. The ones in your circle. Your tribe.

As many of you may know last fall I celebrated my 42nd birthday. That weekend, my three guys left for Minnesota on Thursday morning which meant I had the next almost four days to myself. I love my guys tremendously and I wouldn’t trade them for anything. However as women we tend to be designed to give and give and give some more without really opening ourselves to receiving.

My Guys. Love them to pieces but all the more reason why I need my girls.

Which brings me to Thursday. I had a bit of a tough week at work. On break I was scrolling through Facebook mindlessly passing the time, and came across a post in a group of mine. The post was about being 40 something, a mother, dealing with weakened bladders, graying hair and other random things that our bodies do after giving birth and aging not always so gracefully. I commented on the post and the original poster responded. Which brought about the idea to connect a friend of mine with some experience in creating private Facebook groups and this particular woman.

It was a gorgeous day outside and living in North Eastern North Dakota, by the middle of October, these are few and far between. I went home and did some yard work until it got dark. On a whim I decided to go to town to buy light bulbs as we seemed to have an abundance of burnt out bulbs. On my short drive to town my car overheated. We have had a few issues leading up to this point but not this bad. I call our friend Mike and asked if he had a spare vehicle for me. Long story short I was able to use an extended family members 1995 canary yellow Ford Ranger with a 5-speed on the floor (Such a happy little pickup! I think next time I am struggling with having a positive attitude I may just ask to borrow it for a day or two!!)

My little drive to town at 7 brought me home after 9 at which time I had a bowl of cereal for supper and went to bed.

Friday I went to work as normal. After lunch I ran Uptown to the local drug store to pick up some allergy meds. I came out, hopped in my little yellow pickup and watched as an elderly woman came walking down the sidewalk tripped and fell. I jumped out of the pickup as another woman walking down the sidewalk came running to this fallen woman. The Other Woman had on her scrubs and mentioned that she worked at the local Clinic. She and I helped the elderly woman up. She ensured that the lady was okay and reminded her that if anything started to hurt more to just stop in to the clinic. It made me start thinking. Thinking about sometimes in life you are in the right place at the right time. Thinking about how gracefully the other bystander handled the situation. And it reminded me of why I was looking so forward to spending the evening with one of my best girlfriends.

One of my Bestest Friends ever since living next door to each other in the dorm at college.

Fast forward several hours and I am in Fargo. We had supper as a group and headed back to the hotel where we relaxed and visited. Later that night my mind wandered again to that random Facebook post, a Good Samaritan on the sidewalk and why we all need our girlfriends in our lives.

Saturday morning I got up early after a few restless hours of sleep and headed to the BeeHive in Reynolds North Dakota. I met up with another friend, her husband and their girls and some others for a normal ritual Saturday morning breakfast. After breakfast Miss K, her girls and I headed to a craft show. We shopped. We laughed. I found a slide for Miss B to burn off some energy and we headed back to Kay’s house. We relaxed for a while and then left for the UND men’s hockey game. As Kay and I were eating supper she gave me my birthday card and we had quite the discussion of all the things we as women don’t tell other women that we really should. (Think issues post-childbirth.) We laughed and we laughed some more.

Miss K. Another bestest friend thanks to our tractor loving guys. (It’s our 10 year anniversary this year.)

Off to the hockey game (which thankfully the Fighting Sioux gave me a win for my birthday present) and then I came home to my quiet house. I thought about all of the social media birthday wishes I received. All the text messages. The phone calls. Even old fashioned birthday cards in the mail. I really am a pretty lucky girl.

Sunday morning I went to church and I sat and listened as our new female Pastor was formally installed. I sang along with our amazing worship band. I watched a newborn little girl be baptized.

I pondered the words on my bracelet on my wrist. “She believed she could so she did.” Surrounded by three charms given to me by my Rockstar. Soccer mom, beautiful, and a glass of red wine. And in that moment I realized that if we as women are going to raise strong independent women that we need to step up all of our games. My husband had drove sugar beet truck all night so he was home sleeping. I went to Panera and enjoyed a bagel. I had shared a random social media post to which I received some backlash to which I responded and of course those dishing out the backlash disappeared into the dark corners of social media rather than engage in a truly meaningful conversation with me. Girlfriends. It’s in times like these that you need your girlfriends. It is now Tuesday and one of my girlfriends is still responding with additional facts about said post.

My tribe.

Tuesday I ended up staying home with a stomach bug. Sent a text to my boss. Dropped kids off at school. Chatted with hubby. Turned my phone on vibrate and fell asleep on the couch for three hours. Woke up to our friend Mike saying “hey Deb?!?” I responded with “hey Mike, what’s up?” He told me he was just checking to see if I was alive or ok or what was going on!

You see normally if I am not going to be at work on time or if something comes up I drop a line to my boss AND another co-worker. In my I-really-don’t-want-to-puke-just-let-me-sleep state of mind, I FORGOT to include the other coworker. I also forgot that the boss was out of the office doing farm visits. Which lead to two co-workers/friends trying to call and text me to no avail. Tried hubby….no luck as he was in a business meeting. Finally contacted Mike and Kay. I slept thru their calls and texts too. Which lead Mike and one of his cousins driving to my house to see what was going on. Girlfriends that know you well enough to know when things just don’t add up and then call in more friends.

6 days from when I started writing this post, a new Facebook group exists called R.E.A.L Women’s Tribe. (Reaffirming, Educating, Authentically Living Life). If you fit the title search it out.

Life is hard. We all have our own trials, tribulations and struggles. Who do you call on in those times? Who can call on you? During this time of new life, new beginnings and spring….take a moment and thank your girlfriends for being who they are and for being willing to climb in the muddy trenches with you.

Keep believing,

Deb

Privilege. Politics. People.

I am going to start by saying this post will make some of you cringe. Sorry. Not sorry.

For the past weeks our social media feeds, news, and even YouTube ads have turned political. I have 3 things to say about that.

1. You have the right to vote. USE IT. No complaining about the state of our country unless you are willing to do something about it.

2. We have a pretty cool political system with parties and representation and check and balances. Civics 101. I challenge you to go to this link and read through the 100 questions on the civics naturalization test. (Aka – the test immigrants have to pass to become US citizens. Also required to graduate high school in Several states, ND included.)

https://www.uscis.gov/citizenship/teachers/educational-products/100-civics-questions-and-answers-mp3-audio-english-version

3. Stop the political garbage ads. Tell me what you stand for. Stop smearing your opponents name. (Some might call this idea respectful.)

Privilege: according to a quick Google search means:

We hear such terms as white privilege, male privilege, financial privilege. Every one of these (and more) do exist. In every family. In every community. In your town. In your schools. In your state. And certainly in our country. If you disagree with me, well you are WRONG.

This summer at a leadership event attended by 30ish people, all but two were white, nearly all lived their lives in the upper Midwest. We all stood in a line and took a step forward or backward if questions pertained to us. At the end we took a look around and you SAW the definition of privilege. Questions like have you ever felt threatened walking alone from your car to work. Did you grow up with parents who had education beyond high school? Did your family ever rely on food stamps to survive? Do you have to work more than one job to pay your monthly bills?

For a group of very similar looking, acting people, this was an eye opening thing. Those people way in front at the end came from “privilege”. I fell somewhere in the middle.

If you Google safety tips for high school girls you will have a very long list of tips. If you google safety tips for high school boys you get a list of general things like listen to your parents, be careful what you post online but nothing specific for males. Think about that. 20+ years ago at freshman orientation at a liberal arts school we were told as young women to not walk alone at night, to carry your keys as a weapon, to always lock all your doors all the time, to always let your roommate or friend know where you were going and who with. Never go to a fraternity party alone and always have someone that will stay sober to watch out for you. The list goes on…. The special list for guys: None. This is male privilege. I don’t go to Walmart after dark for fear of my safety. My husband can though. I carry my keys in such a way that I could utilize them as a weapon if needed. Most men don’t even know what that means. Male privilege.

White privilege. This is probably the hardest to describe as a white woman. I’ve had the privilege of getting to know a guy that lives this every day. A black man living in the predominantly white state of ND. We were in a group conversation about approaching businesses for potential donations for a nonprofit. I thought sure no problem. His question, do we have some kind of document or brochure to use with “the ask” as I will probably get the “look” as a strange black man asking for handouts. Some managers will just assume I’m trying to scam them out of something for myself versus a true non-profit. Hmmmm never crossed my mind. White Privilege.

So I ask you, have you ever seen a black man walking down the street while you were out for a walk? What did you do? Watch over your shoulder? Change to the other side of the street? Take a different route? Why? Out of fear? What if it was a white man? Would you act the same? That is white privilege.

If you were scheduled for open heart surgery and a black man walked in the room …would you think he was the surgeon? A nurse? Or a maintenance man?

Would you think differently if it was a woman? A native American? A Muslim woman wearing a hijab (the head scarf)? A middle age white man?

Be honest with yourself …..what would you really think? Doesn’t mean you are racist or sexist just that unconsciously we are biased. If one of each of those people walked in and you had to pick who the surgeon is, I am going to go out on a limb and say a large number would pick the white person. That is white privilege.

If you as a white woman married a black man and you go back home to your 99% white community, do you fear for his safety? If you married a white man would his safety in the community ever cross your mind? That is white privilege.

Financial privilege. That must refer to those people living in the big city with multi-million dollar homes that send their kids to elite boarding schools and colleges right? Yes it does.

What about kids growing up in a suburban community with two working parents, two cars, a dog, a nice home, name brand clothes, going to public school? That’s financial privilege.

What about kids growing up with a single parent, working full time, living in an apartment, sporting new to them nice clothes, going to a neighborhood public school? That’s financial privilege.

All of the preceding examples are different levels of financial privilege. It’s not about who has more or who is better off. It’s about appreciating what you have and helping out others when you can.

Grand Forks public schools started something new this year. They are participating with http://www.Purposity.com. this is a website for local non-profits, social workers, and schools to list items needed right in your own community. Anyone that wants to help simply clicks the link to items on Amazon, purchases and in a few mouse clicks you may changed someone’s world. This is USING your financial privilege to help others.

So a quick look through the items needed on the Purposity website shows things like leggings for a young girl. Diapers for a family with a newborn. Cookware so that a family can cook their own meals. Large size pull ups for an older child with a disability so they can attend school without having bathroom accidents making them prone to judgment and being picked on by their peers. Those of us that don’t have to be on those lists are in a position of financial privilege.

As many of you know I am involved with some of our nonprofits in the state of ND for individuals with disabilities. I recently had the opportunity to watch one of my fellow members give a demonstration of her wheelchair. This young woman is a spitfire and someone I admire greatly. Her old wheelchair was literally falling apart. Her mechanic deemed it no longer safe for her to use even though Medicaid and insurance companies said she had to continue to use it for several more months before they would finance a new one.

She had tipped over her old chair more than once. Her new chair has 6 wheels allowing greater stability, and is made in such a way that it is impossible for her to have screws fall out or parts fall off. She can stand in it as well as lay flat. It is truly life-changing for her. It’s price tag? $60,000. Partially paid for by Medicaid and the rest from a grant from the Great American Bike Race.

For those of you that have no concept of what it might be like to rely on an safe, electric wheelchair versus an older, unsafe, broken model, let me try to give you an example. Imagine that you work in a factory setting. You work 12 hours a day standing on concrete assembling parts. You are required to wear steel-toed shoes for safety. (Anyone that has ever worked for an extended period of time on their feet, on concrete, knows that proper support in your shoes is the difference between coming home and being able to function and coming home in excruciating pain.) Good comfortable steel-toed shoes may cost you a minimum of $200. Some companies may even partially reimburse you for that. Now imagine for just a moment that you were told that you had to go to a bigbox store, buy a $20 pair of shoes then proceed to work in them 12 hours a day every day for the next two years. Could you do it? Would you want to throw out the shoes and just go get a new, better, more usable pair?

That is what it is like for someone who uses a wheelchair that does not accommodate their disability and their needs. Except instead of a $200 pair of shoes we are talking a $60,000 wheelchair. Insurance won’t pay, you can’t get to work and no one is willing to help support the cost. The only way a person that needs a chair for mobility can get a job and go to that job is to have an appropriate chair. If we want people to be independent and productive members of society then we have to be willing to support their needs. For the lack of better words I am going to call this able-bodied privilege. When was the last time you had to ensure that your employer, your apartment, the restaurant you ate at last night had a bathroom that you could get into and use independently?

People. All of these things revolve around people. No two people are made the same. Why must we act as though what is right for one should be good enough for all?

I am not pointing fingers. Every time you point your finger at someone you have three other fingers pointing back at yourself. We all are guilty. So my “ask” for each of you is simple. Before you comment in person, in writing, or on social media stop and think. Are you stereo-typing? Are you applying the one-size-fits-all to people? Are you being biased even if unconsciously? Just because someone may not agree with your views or your opinions, does that make them less of a person? If someone doesn’t agree with you, does that make them less intelligent than you? To me, this is a great thing about being connected on social media. We can find like-minded people and we can find those that are different from us. We can hopefully have civil discussions about a topic. I love to know people that don’t agree with my point of view. I love to know why. What are your reasons? What research have you done? I want to hear what you have to say. All I ask is that you give me the same respect in return. At the end of the day we may agree to disagree and that is okay. If we can truly be open to other people’s views and ideas and knowledge it is then that we can grow as a person as a community and as our country.

Lastly, let me be the first to say that if I haven’t treated you with respect or listened to your ideas like I should have then I am sorry. I would love for a second chance to sit down and chat over coffee or a beer or simply over social media.

One final thought. If you are 18 it is your right, it is your privilege, and it is your duty to vote on November 6th. Show up and make your voice heard.

If you don’t know where to vote or what is required to vote, Google your secretary of state for whatever state you live in and find out.

Till next time, stay positive and shine on,

Deb

Time Marches On……

It’s been 7 years today since you left us. I still miss you and I still think about you all the time. As summer is upon us, my Rockstar talks about when we are going to go to the car races and how he can’t wait to watch the World of Outlaws. We wait for Facebook notifications of when Kent Arment Motorsports is going live from one of our old stomping ground tracks. Many nights, he and I will sit on the couch and watch the cars go by. It’s the next best thing to cheering for you. And face it, the best night of racing is when #18 isn’t in the winner circle! (For those that didn’t know me “back then”, let’s just say that many friday nights I left Brown County Speedway without a voice from cheering on my big brother and perhaps “booing” a certain #18. Even my mom would get in on that fun!)

My Rockstar got his driving permit and he’s been behind the wheel a few times now. His Uncle Tim shows up every now and then as the phrase we’ve used the most is “slow down!” For some parents it would probably scare them, but deep inside I smile and I think of you. I admit, it does scare me a little.

The first time Rockstar drove in town!

As we look forward to and prepare for Darci’s wedding this fall, with Natalie as her maid of honor, I often think of you. I have the privilege to have many fun conversations with your daughter. And I know you would be extremely proud of the hard working, fun loving, beautiful young woman she has become. Just a few weeks ago we were at Em’s graduation party and I couldn’t help but see you in Spencer. Watching him play with both of my boys, especially with Rockstar in the pool, I saw you. That young man is going places. He works hard and I’m pretty sure he plays hard too! Yes, you would be proud of him as well.

I would be amiss if I didn’t mention Sonia. You know I’ve always looked up to her and have a tremendous amount of respect for her, from the moment you first brought her into our lives. Oh we’ve had our issues but she is an amazing woman. I can’t imagine how difficult it has been for her without you. Let me tell you she has done an amazing job not only being your kids’ mom but making sure to stay connected with all of us. I think it’s only fair that you know that a Em’s graduation she gave all of us a rose, including Sonia. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I know it touched me.

Tim & Sonia on their wedding day.

I’ve always known that our family was close and I attribute that to going through many of the hardships our family has been through. So 8 years ago when we knew Dad wasn’t going to be with us much longer, we all knew we still had each other. But then life threw us one of my hardest curveballs imaginable. The year between dad’s funeral and yours was one of the hardest years of my life. I’m sure I’m not alone in that sentiment.

Family picture at my high school graduation. All the red shirts and jackets are Tim’s racing clothes. It is safe to say we all supported him!

I know that you are busy keeping watch over all of us because I feel your presence often. I know that when I am feeling down and Luke Bryan’s song “Drink a Beer” comes on, I know you are looking out for me.

Life will never be the same without you, but thanks for watching over us. Tonight as I sat on a conference call for a board meeting I drank a cold one in your honor.

This Bud’s for you Big Brother. #keepingitreal

I love you and I will always miss you. Race on Tim, race on. #10 Forever.

Tim’s last racecar. 1997.

Take the time to make some fun memories this summer. They are what keeps you going in the hard times.

Deb

Spring. Agriculture. Hope

Spring. Many of us in the northern Midwest started to believe that mother nature deleted spring. April was cold. Dreary. And snowy. We were restless. Those of us that deal with depression and anxiety find long dreary winters to be even more difficult. I know some days it was hard to muster up the strength to get out of bed and carry on my normal routine.

Spring. Hope. When you live with the four seasons you know what to expect and you look forward to those season changes, even if you don’t like some of them, you know they are coming. When winter starts to drag on, I long for spring, for signs of black dirt in the fields and a daffodil or tulip poking through the cold ground.

Part of my perennial flower bed poking through for another year.

Hope. A sign that winter will end and we will once again have a new beginning. We will once again have a chance at new life. The kids can play outside and I can play in my flower beds. Hope.

In my career with the Farm Service Agency I have the privilege of working with farmers and ranchers from multiple counties in meeting their financial needs with loans from our agency. Hope. For another growing season for some. For others just starting out, hope for a long term opportunity to take over the family farm from the previous generation. For some, hope that if we help refinance some debt that this year will be the turning point for them again. Spring. Hope.

Hope. The feeling of something good going to happen. A feeling of trust. A belief in the future.

Agriculture is an industry built on hope. Every year you plant a tiny seed. Then hope for rain. Hope for sun. Hope for good weather. Hope for prices high enough to pay the bills. Hope.

Rockstar checking the depth of the corn seed going in his field.

Growing up on the family farm in SD, I was a young girl during the 1980’s Ag crisis. Interest rates were at an all time high of 18-20%. Most farmers have some kind of loans for land purchases, equipment purchases, or for annual operating. (Farmers have to pay for seed, fertilizer, fuel, rent and more all year but won’t receive income until the crops are harvested in the fall. Hence why banks will lend money to farmers in the spring until they harvest in the fall). These high interest rates, extreme drought in some areas, low prices and little to no crop insurance lead to many farmers declaring bankruptcy and selling out. It was hard. It was devastating. My parents like many others were heavily in debt with the local bank as well as the Farmers Home Administration (FmHA which is now called FSA – where I work).

During this time, FmHA called my parents loans. Mom and Dad hadn’t been able to make their payments so FmHA started the foreclosure process. Mom and Dad found an accountant who understood agriculture and the financial world and started to help them out. My mom still tells the story of how they were served with papers and told to show up at a certain date and time at the courthouse. They did. Their local banker was there, the accountant and “some lady from Pierre”. My mom tells of this woman walking into the courtroom with a fancy dress and high heels on. My parents had never met her or done business with her, but she was there representing FmHA . The local banker went on to say that “these were good people” and that he wanted no part of foreclosure. Mom and Dad kept the farm. There was a very small write off and some restructuring of loan terms. In the coming years, Dad sold most of his equipment, put a lot of the land into a conservation program and started working in town. So did mom. We still had pigs and the cows and some land to farm. Dad came to despise the FmHA office and as I got older he would pass the paperwork and letters to mom or I to “see what the hell they want now.” And so I spent my teenage years learning that FmHA was bad. Not to be trusted. The home of the devil himself.

Mom and Dad eventualy paid off their debts, moved to town and really lived a pretty good life.

Mom and Dad’s house. Built on the farm in 1960 then moved to town in 2001.

I went off to college, met my farm boy and knew I was headed to a life in agriculture. You see I loved agriculture just not FmHA. Fast forward to 2008 and there was a job opening with the Farm Service Agency. I needed a change from the bank and this would give me a chance to work directly with farmers. I took the job. I called home and told Mom and Dad worried what they would say. Dad’s comment was why in the world would I ever choose to work there. I assured him that things had changed and that I was working with farm programs not loans. I had no intention of ever crossing that line.

Late 2016 an opportunity came along for me to become a FLOT (Farm Loan Officer Trainer). There would be upward mobility if I wanted it. It would be a challenge to learn something new again. But……how could I work there. Mom asked if I had my head on straight. I figured if Dad were alive he’d tell me I was completely crazy.

I took the job. I struggled. Seriously struggled with the fact that I did this. How could I knowingly choose to be that person that puts farmers out of business? I still occasionally see my Life coach aka therapist and in discussing this she reminded me that I was no longer that scared young teenager living at home wondering what would happen to my whole life when that next letter came from the FmHA office. I was fully in control of my life and most importantly, in control of how I treated my farmers. Whoa. Things that happen in your childhood really can affect your adult life. Game changer.

We then attend the ND Farm Bureau annual meeting and hear about how a certain county’s farm loan staff in the state was treating farmers very poorly. It made my blood boil. Then and there I vowed to always do my best to treat my farmers with the respect and kindness they deserve, even in giving bad news. Everyone deserves kindness. It is now my mission to change people’s perceptions of the Farm Service Agency, specifically the farm loan departments, one farmer at a time. I cannot change the world, but I can change a day or two in the world of each farmer I work with. It won’t be easy. But it will be worth it.

Full circle. I’ve come a long way. From the kid helping Mom and Dad, believing that “those people that worked there” were horrible and anti-farmer, to working there and trying every day to show my belief and support for all those in agriculture. Hope. For myself and hopefully I can give a little hope to my farmers as well.

Rockstar filling the corn planter with seed for his field.

Times in agriculture are tough again. Prices that farmers pay for seed, fertilizer, fuel, land, equipment keep climbing while the price they are paid for their product is low, for some commodities like milk and dairy, so low that dairy farms are forced to quit nearly every day. Corn price is about the same as it was in the mid-1970’s. I can guarantee you that no expense is the same as 40 some years ago. I know that at some time in my career, I will be in the position of telling a farmer that he has to quit. My hope is that I will have built a relationship with them so maybe, with time, they won’t hate me but know that sometimes things don’t work. Hopefully that time doesn’t come along for a long time.

Agriculture is about generations and families. My great-great grandparents came from Russia to the USA and homesteaded in Emmons county, ND. That farm is still in the family. That is a point of pride in my family history on mom’s side. (A large family reunion was held on the homestead in 2000. Read about it here: https://library.ndsu.edu/grhc/outreach/reunion/vfvetter.html)

The third generation is now living on the farm where I grew up just down the road from the farm where my dad grew up. My parents bought the farmstead when they got married and built it from bare land to all that stands there now. My sister and her family bought and moved to the farmstead when mom and dad moved to town. Now my nephew has purchased a few acres and built a hop (house and shop all as one building. It’s cool!)

My nephew’s Hop (part house part shop).

Hope for the future. Maybe someday a fourth generation will live and farm there. Who knows!

Today, my Rockstar is in MN planting his 20 acres of corn. He is 14. The Farm Service Agency in MN gave him a $5000 operating loan. Grandpa is helping him out with equipment and guidance and more. This is a huge opportunity for him and I am proud to work for the agency that helps the next generation get started. Hope. For a good crop. Hope for the future. Hope for agriculture.

The next generation. Lots of people are pretty proud of this young man.

This spring, watch for tractors and slow moving vehicles on the road. Slow down. Pass with care. The farmers in those rigs are going to work just like you. Support farmers and agriculture. Thank them for growing the food you eat, the clothes you wear and the fuel you put in your vehicle.

Grandpa Doug’s IH 1456 ready to go to the field to get it ready to plant.

When you see tractors, please slow down!

Till next time,

Deb

For more information on any of the Farm Service Agency programs or loans please check out https://www.farmers.gov/ or let me know and I can get you contact info for your local office where ever you may live.

Time to get political

As an employee of the Farm Service Agency, under the United States Department of Agriculture, I am currently furloughed. As our elected representatives could not agree on budget items and instead chose the childish route of crossing their arms and refusing to act as grown-ups, myself along with so so many others are left wondering if and when we will be able to get back to our jobs serving our fellow Americans.

This is and is not a political piece. I do not care what, if any, political party you may associate with.

WE ARE ALL TO BLAME!

Yes, I said WE. As in you and I.

Our forefathers gave us this amazing right to be represented in our government. We have the right (and I will go so far as to say the duty) to vote for our representatives, senators and the president. If you have voted in the last several elections, thank you. If you have not…then you are part of the problem. If you haven’t voted because you don’t know how or where, I would be glad to help you find your place and even the voting rules for where you live. No excuses not to vote. Ever.

If you voted, then thank you. But your responsibility does not end there. Where ever you may live, you voted for someone to represent you. Have you ever called, emailed, or met your representatives in person? If they are representing you then it is your duty to make sure they know what it is you want or don’t want, like or don’t like. If you call, talk to one of their staff people. Tell them you are a voting constituent, and want to introduce yourself and let them know__________. (You are a farmer and support agriculture or a nurse and have an inside view to health care, or a teacher with an opinion on education, or a stay-at-home mom with an opinion on insurance, food safety, transportation, etc. Maybe you’ve heard stories from a neighbor or friend or grandparents about when they moved to this great country of ours and have an opinion on immigration.) It doesn’t matter who or what it is, your voice matters.

Ranting on social media is probably not going to help much. Taking a minute to draft a short email to your representatives in Washington DC will make a difference. Don’t get me wrong, things may not always turn out the way you want, but at least you tried. Then keep calling. Keep talking. Keep trying. Change does not happen overnight.

Next, and this is the hardest part, talk to your neighbors. Civil conversations. Not just “those #$&@ Republicans or Democrats” but true conversation. We must go back to talking to one another, try opening our minds to those ideas different from ours, sometimes agreeing to disagree. It’s called respect. And it is lost at all levels.

I don’t claim to have all the answers, I just know that true respect and talking with one another goes a long way. If you don’t like the government shutdown or if you do, it is still your right and your duty to make your voice heard. I might just start playing the devil’s advocate and if I see a political post on social media I may just comment with “what have you done about it and what will you do about it?”

Call your representatives.

Vote. Register to vote if you haven’t and your state requires it. Then vote. November is coming. Vote.

Talk with others. Respect others.

Till next time,

Deb

(Just to make things clear, this is 100% my opinion. This in no way represents the views of FSA or USDA. Just me.)

This Changes Everything

Faith. Fear. Castaway. Calvary. Parenthood. Music. Social media. Friends. Beer and Hymns.

A random group of words but not so random.

This Changes Everything.

My first encounter with this phrase was earlier this year as a newly written song by a dear friend Nolan Weisz (and his friend Jon Dahl.) The “this” is about the death and rising of our savior Jesus Christ. (Take a listen here  This Changes Everything!)

The “this” is about becoming more Christ-like in our everyday living. “This” is about becoming better disciples.

This song is still my go-to no matter what is going on in my life. What the “this” is changes constantly. However the “this” truly does change everything.

Faith Changes Everything. Faith can truly change everything. Faith can be your guide through the hard times. Faith can be your sunshine making the good times better. Faith as your religion. Faith in your friends and family. Faith in those that show kindness. Faith that the sun will rise again tomorrow.

Another gorgeous sunrise on my way to work. Faith in a new day dawning.

Fear changes everything. Fear can be useful and protect us from danger. However, fear more frequently paralyzes us. The fear of the unknown. The fear of the future. The fear of failure. The fear of others opinions. The fear of death. The fear of life. Are you fulfilling your life’s calling or are you living in fear of your calling? What if your calling isn’t your day job? What fear is holding you back? If you face that fear will it change everything?

Castaway changes everything. Castaway is a camp/retreat near Detroit Lakes, Minnesota that is run by Young Life. It is an amazing place. Thanks to my Rockstar I accompanied him and several other middle schoolers to a weekend retreat at Castaway. The main musician for the weekend had also wrote a song called “This Changes Everything”. It is very different from Nolan’s but no less powerful. Castaway changes youth. Castaway changes adults. Castaway changed me and my view of the youth of today. There are good people in the world trying their best to be kind and spread joy. These youth are learning to use their faith to conquer fear and “change everything”.

My Sunday morning view from Castaway. Peace.

Calvary changes everything. The Calvary from biblical times truly changed everything in the Christian world. My Calvary is my church. My Calvary changes everything. Calvary is not just a beautiful building here in Grand Forks but my church home. The people here have accepted me and more importantly my boys. Calvary engages my boys in their Christian education and then they bring me to Castaway. Sometimes it’s a sermon. Sometimes it’s the music. Always it is the people. It’s volunteering at Holy Grounds, our coffee shop. It is watching tons of little kids go up for Kids Time. It is having the chance to throw your pennies in a dish held by a little set of hands, knowing that every penny matters.

Parenthood changes everything. Parenthood brings joy, sadness, worry, contentment, and so much more. It is impossible to not be changed by parenthood. There might be stretch marks and an out-of-shape midriff. There will be deep love, deep joy and tears of sadness and joy. My boys have changed me and continue to change me daily. Those of us that are raising kiddos with special needs know that “this changes everything” is even a bigger saying and life moment.

Little Bear with a friends foster dog. They became good buds in two nights.

Music changes everything. I’ve always had a deep love of music. Growing up, music was always on the radio. I’ve listened to polkas and waltz’s, the oldies, classic rock, old country, new country, hip-hop, current pop, Christian rock, church hymns and everything in between. Music brings my soul to life. I’ve played piano and clarinet. I love to sing (my car is my studio.) My Bose radio is one possession I don’t think I could live without. My Rockstar has played cello and alto sax. Little Bear is learning to play the drums. We make up silly songs. When my boys were little and had a hard time settling down I would sing “Amazing Grace” and “Jesus Loves Me” to them. When I am struggling I find myself listening to Nolan and Jon with Good Shepherd Worship. The combination of their musical skills and the songs they sing ground me and give me hope. It may change my mood, my attitude, my day or my moment, but it always changes something.

Social media changes everything. Facebook, Snapchat, Instagram, Twitter or whatever you may use changes everything. Sometimes for good. Sometimes for bad. I enjoy social media for catching news blurbs, sharing my kids with our distant family and friends, connecting with people who I may never connect with otherwise. The scary is the online bullies for our youth and even ourselves. It can consume our minds and time and take us away from truly important interactions. The always happy and always perfect picture we paint can intensify feelings of anxiety, depression, and inadequacy in others. Good or bad? What are you changing with your use of social media?

My Rockstar hanging out with mom. I know these times may dwindle in the coming teenage years.

Friends change everything. Friends open their homes to you for a place to sleep when out-of-town for doctor appointments.

My dear friend Lisa. Her home becomes our home when we are in St. Paul for Little Bears appointments. She even let us crash her birthday this fall. Such an amazing person!

Friends give you their hockey ticket so you can hang out together.

Kay and I with Miss B at her very first UND hockey game. I’m grateful to Mike for willingly giving up his ticket some nights so we girls can hang out.

Friends decipher IEP’s (Individual Education Plan) for your kids. Friends make supper. Friends do not care when your house and your life is a mess. Friends call or text for no reason. Friends push you out of your comfort zone. Friends will face your fear with you. Friends change our life picture from gray to vibrant and colorful. They add rainbows and sunshine and pure craziness!

Friends are made at all places and all times in our lives. From school, to the neighborhood to places like Castaway and Calvary. Friends are made in Parenthood. Friends make music together, they go to concerts together. They will randomly break into song with the right phrase. Music brings friends together for Beer and Hymns.

Beer and Hymns changes everything. Imagine sitting in a small brewery enjoying a beer with a cousin and some friends. Imagine listening to your favorite music while enjoying a beer. Imagine combining all that into an evening. Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in Moorhead, Minnesota does just this. Some of their musicians come out to a little brewery called Junkyard Brewery in Moorhead (Check them out – they have great beer too!) where they play church hymns and songs of worship while enjoying a beer with new and old friends.

Hymns & Beer with Good Shepherd Worship at Junkyard Brewery in Moorhead, MN

I have a cousin that attends that church. I have a friend and musician, Nolan, that works for that church. The three of us are connected on social media. The two of them know another woman in Grand Forks who enjoys their music and the beer. My cousin connected the two of us on Facebook. We realize we both go to Calvary. We are both fans and friends of Nolan’s. We both love music. We connect on social media and end up car pooling to Hymns and Beer one Sunday evening in November to join my cousin, some other friends and many other people to sing with Nolan. It was truly good for my soul.

When we are open to the universe things change. When we have a little faith things change. When we face our fears things change. When we go to new or old places with an open and kind heart things change. When we sing and dance things change. When we drink beer with a new-found friend things change.

A smile. A kind word. A chance. A little fear. A lot more faith. A friend. A song. A beer. These are just some of my “This” in This Changes Everything.

In this season of Christmas and parties and cookies and sometimes chaos, take a moment and enjoy the music. What is your “this”? What will you do or say that may be someone elses “this”? Is it a family tradition? Or a favorite cookie recipe? Is it seeing family? Is it forgiving someone? Is it simply a smile to a stranger? Whatever it is, find your “this”.

May your light shine brightly and change everything,

Deb

PS: for more musical motivation from Nolan and Jon follow them on Facebook. I made it easy….use these links.

You can connect with Good Shepherd Worship on Facebook here: https://www.facebook.com/goodshepherdworship/

Nolan Weisz Music on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/nolanweiszmusic/

Jon Dahl Music on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jondahlmusic/

In Good Times and In Bad

October 1996. I was working at Fleet Farm in Fargo, ND in the service center. Me. The lone female with 16 guys or so. It was a great working environment! Fleet Farm hired this guy from Glenwood, MN that was attending NDSU, majoring in Agriculture Systems Management (ASM). I was told I was to train him on the job. 

His first day he walked in wearing black Wrangler jeans, an IH belt buckle (that’s International Harvester for you non-farm followers – it’s the original red tractor brand) and a red jacket with a IH 1456 tractor on the back and “Nate” printed on the front. Blonde hair, blue eyes, all American farm boy. 

My first thought was, “nice – a good looking farm boy, I can handle that.” Then a quick thought of “now that’s the kind of guy I can see myself with.” Quickly followed by “what the heck…you just ended a bad rebound relationship, the last thing you need is another guy.” Phew……good thing he is just a co-worker and someone I have to train. 

Fast forward a month or two and we started dating. Yes, as Nate will tell you our whole relationship is based on a lie. I might have told a little white lie that due to being only 20 at the time that I didn’t have any alcohol in my possession and after a LONG, busy day at work (Black Friday and the opening of Toyland for those familiar with Fleet Farm) I could really use a cold beer. (I may have had a Bud Lite or 2 in my dorm fridge, who is to say?!?) Nate has always been the kind of guy who likes to visit, is truly kind hearted and like most young college guys, perhaps a tiny bit niave. He invited me over for a beer after work. 

The rest is history.

One of the 1st pics we have. Ag Engineering show February 1997.

Then began the winter of 1996-1997 with record snowfall, record blizzards followed by a record flood. Nate left for Iowa for an internship and came back to Fargo in December. He proposed one year to the day since we started dating. 

We finished college while planning our wedding for June 5, 1999.

Fast forward, Nate graduated from NDSU, we moved to Jackson, MN, he started his job at then Soilteq, a division of AgChem, and we got married in about four weeks time. 

The wedding was an event to remember. One of our attendants was arrested the night before the wedding (underage, a bar, a another person’s ID. I still giggle every year. This person just messaged me saying how happy they were to be doing laundry last night instead of in jail!) There was a small fire on the altar during the ceremony. A whole lot of people, in the neighborhood of 400. Drank the Ramkota Hotel in Aberdeen out of beer. Cops were called in the wee wee hours of the morning for a noise complaint. My family all ran from the cops. Old faithful (a new nickname for an old friend) and so many more stories. 

Our wedding party. Some of the best people in the world in this picture.

Wedding vows. In good times and in bad. In sickness and in health. For richer and for poorer. Until death do us part. 

We were so very young. So excited to say those words. Little did we know that those 20+ words would be so true, so hard, so amazing, and so full of love.

My favorite pic from our wedding. We walked out of church, stopped and kissed. Totally unplanned.

18 years. We’ve celebrated good times. We’ve survived bad times and will continue to do so. We’ve supported each other through depression and anxiety and high risk pregnancy and the diagnosis of a child with a brain malformation and through whole winter’s without the stomach flu and always knowing full well that we are blessed beyond belief in the health department. 

Richer and poorer. Fiscal business has to be one of the most difficult pieces of marriage. Debt. School loans. Credit cards. Vehicles.  House. Medical bills. Low paying jobs. Awesome sounding jobs that just don’t materialize. Lost jobs. Pay cuts. Pay raises. Commissions. Unexpected break downs. Bad decisions. Budgets. Loans. Dave Ramsey Financial Peace University. When it comes to money issues we have got this “poorer” part down to a science. 

When it comes to love we get richer and richer every day. 

If you know us at all, you know how true this all is. If you are new to my blog check out some past writings to learn more. 

Marriage. It truly takes two. Two to make the good times and two to get through the bad times. It takes faith. Faith in God the father, Jesus and the Holy Spirit. Faith in yourself. Faith in your partner. Faith. 

One of my favorite places to regroup. Our church, Calvary Lutheran in Grand Forks.

You see in marriage you are never alone. There have been many times where I have been physically alone while Nate may be out on the road, but in my mind and my heart…I am never alone.

Supportive. I support Nate and he supports me. Sometimes at the same time. Sometimes at different times. Sometimes for a moment or an hour or a day. Sometimes for months on end. 

One of the best parts of marriage is simply knowing that someone always has your back. It is learning and growing. It is watching myself transform into a kinder and less confrontational person. It is watching Nate become a little more out spoken and sometimes being a little more realistic. (Still farming on the moon, just not the entire moon!) 

Today we celebrate in two different states. I in ND with our Rockstar and Nate in MN with Little Bear. Both boys with appointments and summer activities. 

Little Bear and Rockstar. Always bringing you a smile.

So begins another fun and busy summer. So begins the next 18 years of marriage.  I have no idea what the next hour or day or week or year may hold for us but I don’t care. As long as we have each other, we will look to the future with hope and excitement and trust and faith. 

To those that have been married for many, many years….thanks for the example and encouragement.  To those newly married or about to get married….take your vows seriously. Things will be bad and things will be ugly but the good times will come and they will out shine all the rest. 

Say I love you. Give hugs. Get angry sometimes. Dream together. Apologize. Love. 

18 years. 7 addresses. 9 vehicles. 3 pregnancies. 2 amazing boys. 14 employers. Times of unemployment for both of us. 6 daycare providers. 5 schools. Too many funerals and weddings to count. Births of nieces and nephews and great nieces and great nephews. 2 individuals living 1 marriage. All from 1 day at a Fleet Farm. 

Our little Farm Bureau vacation to Pittsburgh in February.

Happy Anniversary Babe! May the next lifetime be as good as all the previous ones. 

Grief.

“If Heaven Wasn’t So Far Away” by Justin Moore.  “Drink a Beer” by Luke Bryan.   “Just a Girl” by No Doubt.  “Rory’s Radio” by Ashton Shepherd. “The Dance” by Garth Brooks.  “In Heaven There is No Beer” original composer Ralph Maria Siegel.  “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” by the Charlie Daniels Band.  “Live Like You Were Dying” by Tim McGraw

A favorite tree on the road to the farm.

Song titles.  All tied to memories.

“The Dance” by Garth Brooks.  Stops me dead in my tracks every time.  Most of the time it brings me to tears.   The first time I saw Garth in concert was about a year after a good friend of mine from high school died in a car accident.  That concert night when the intro started for “The Dance” I lost it.  Tears fell freely.  I missed Clint something fierce.  We were never more than friends in high school but we had become closer as time went on in college.  If you are not familiar “The Dance” talks about how I’d change things if I had only known, but then I would have had to miss the dance.

Now when I hear it I think of Dad and Tim and Clint and Angela and, and, and……

Grief.  It sucks.  It is necessary.  It is ugly.  It is lonely.  It does get better but it never goes away.

This week – Seven years ago my Dad passed away after a fight with lung cancer.  This same week – Six years ago my oldest brother Tim passed away after a hard-fought battle with cancer as well.

There is a cemetery just south of our house. I finally stopped one morning last fall to capture this sunrise picture. Peace.

This week.  Every year. Sucks. Cancer sucks.  Grief sucks.  Tim was diagnosed with cancer weeks before Dad died from cancer.  Re-read that last sentence.  Yes, my oldest brother, the rock of the family, was diagnosed with terminal cancer, with six months to live, just weeks before our Dad died – from cancer.

It was hell.  I was numb as I am sure the rest of the family was too.  Cancer sucks.  Death sucks.  The two attacking at the same time is beyond belief.

Dad’s US Army picture late 1950’s. (That glimmer in his eyes can be seen in Little Bear’s eyes a lot.)

May 18.  Dad’s birthday.  He would have been 82.  Dad passed away after a hard-fought battle with the dreaded C word in 2010.  Valentine Malsom.  Born, raised and lived his whole life near Ipswich, SD.  Anyone that knew Dad knew he couldn’t spell.  Math – he was a wiz.  Spelling….not so much.  Dad taught all of us how to remember how to spell Ipswich correctly.  (I Pee South West I Catch Hell.)  I don’t think I can even type it or write it without saying that in my head.  Dad was a jokester.  He loved to have a good time (sometimes probably too good of a time!) and he loved to tell jokes and try to get one over on you.  Speaking of which….“Have you heard the latest?”

A man who worked hard, played hard, served his country in the US Army and always had time for a joke or a visit.  Yes he is missed, but I see so many of his traits in Little Bear.  And it makes me smile.  I can only imagine the trouble the two of them could have gotten into.

Grief comes in lots of ways and over lots of reasons.  Mom and Dad struggled through the 1980’s ag crisis.  They didn’t lose the farm per se but they did quit farming most of the land and had an equipment auction sale.  I must wonder if Dad grieved the loss of so much of the farm?  Or did he silently rejoice?  You see the older I get the more I ponder these things.  Sometimes I just wish for one more conversation with Dad.  As Nate and I face our own struggles right now, I wonder what Dad would say?

Tim. My oldest brother by 16 years.  He wasn’t even living at home anymore by the time I remember.  I do remember him coming home in his canary yellow Firebird. Sparky, the dog, would wait by the driveway and I could hear the car long before you could see it.  It was so exciting when Tim came home.  Advance several years, Tim lived in Aberdeen and was dating his wife and I was just as excited when they came out to the farm on a sunday afternoon.  Then Tim started dirt track racing.  #10 Forever!  I loved racing.  I lived for Friday night racing.  I even accepted summer jobs based on having race nights off.  I can count on one hand how many races I missed over his 10 odd years of racing.  To say Tim was my hero is probably an understatement.  During those years I had the time of my life!  Stories.   Good times.  Memories.  So many lessons learned.  Once Tim had a family the race care was silenced.  In a way I believe I suffered from a bit of grief over that as well.

Tim’s last race car. 1997 What I wouldn’t give to watch that car make one more lap….

Tim lived within 30 miles of Mom and Dad so we all knew that he was available to look after them and help them out along with our sister Anita who lives on the farm.  When Dad was nearing the end, I know I for one, felt at peace knowing that Tim and Anita were still close by to look after and help out Mom.

But then….a phone call I remember as though it was yesterday.  Tim.  The doctors say it is cancer.  They aren’t sure what they can do.  They say I have 6 months to live.  How do you respond?  How do you even begin to process?

Then Dad died.  We hurried and had the funeral so Tim could go to Mayo Clinic.  How do you grieve your Dad when you are now focused on your brother?  That whole next year is a blur to me yet.  (Oh yeah we moved from Starbuck, MN to Grand Forks, ND that year as well.)

Memorial Day weekend we went to Lennox, SD to help my brother Adam with a project and on the way home we stopped in Watertown for supper.  Nate and I talked and decided on a whim to drive to Aberdeen to see Tim in the hospital and then spend the night at my Mom’s.  That night on our way out of the hospital room I said “We’ll talk to you tomorrow.”  By early the next morning Mom got the phone call saying Tim had passed away.  Tomorrow never came.

I remember Tim laughing and enjoying Austin’s reactions so much that day. One of the last pictures I have of Tim. (His daughter Natalie in the background.)

I am no expert in grief.  What I do know is that in the 40 years I have been on this earth I have buried my Dad,  my oldest brother Tim, two of my sisters, Junill and Louise, several cousins, aunts, uncles, grandma’s (both of my grandpa’s were gone before I was born), and some very close friends.  I’ve suffered a miscarriage myself.  Death sucks. Grief sucks. There is no ten-step program for getting through grief.  There is no time frame.  There is no handbook or manual or guidelines or rules.  Grief.  It affects every person differently.  It affects the same person differently each time it is faced.  Grief is hard.  Grief is freeing.  Grief is unstoppable tears and a happy smile of remembrance.

The grief from Tim still sneaks up on me.  It can be a song, a sound, a race car going down the interstate, my boys doing silly things Uncle Tim taught them and the tears will fall.

Girls weekend! Angela was such a fun-loving, crazy women. She is the one in front.

Just a year ago now, one of my best friends was diagnosed with cancer.  She lasted less than six months.  The grief from loosing Angela is still fresh and sometimes raw.  It is unbelievably hard to attend the funeral for your friend from college.  Someone your age. Someone with little kids and a husband and a loving family.  It sucks.  The grief is real. The pain is real.

I wish I had an easy fix it plan for dealing with grief but I do not.  I have my faith which is my rock in these times.  I have my boys and my friends and my garden and my ND prairie sunsets to bring me peace.  There are professionals too.  Counselors, therapists, pastors, and professional grief centers.  We all have our coping mechanisms – try to keep them healthy though.  Ask for help.  Talk to someone.  Grief sucks.  You aren’t crazy.  Don’t deal with it alone.

Grief isn’t just for death though.  Grief can be for a lost job or a lost home or a lost relationship.  We all have ideas and dreams and goals for our job, our home, our relationships and when those things don’t go like we think they should, there is a sense of loss and grief.

Having a child with a disability brings on grief too.  At diagnosis time, you as parents and family go through a grieving process.  When you have a child, you have dreams and plans for them.  It might be for them to be a great sports star or the doctor that finds the cure for cancer and then all those dreams are thrown out the window. You are forced down a completely different road and there is grief.  Grief for what might have been.

Have I been faced with all kinds of grief?  Yes.  Does that make me an expert?  Absolutely not. All I know for sure is that grief sucks and follows no rules.  All I can give you is advice to face it and to not do it alone.  We’ve all been there.  Sometimes a good cry or a walk is all that is needed.  Call someone, anyone, even me.

Taken by my brother Adam. This beer’s for you!

As for me, just know the next time Luke Bryan comes on the radio with “Drink a Beer” I will stop what I’m doing, smile towards heaven and say “Thanks Tim for watching over me.”  Or if I happen to have a beer in hand, I’ll raise it.

If I see a mouse, even a fake one, I’ll smile and say thanks Ang. Or if “I’m just a Girl” comes on the radio I’ll know to contact the rest of our clan of girls from college to just make sure we keep in contact.

When we have root beer floats or homemade chocolate shakes I’ll pause a moment to remember Dad and how these were a favorite treat and a reminder to pause a few moments to enjoy family time.

When I hear “In Heaven There is No Beer” I smile because I don’t know if I believe that.  I’m pretty certain Dad and Tim either snuck some with them or they are brewing it themselves!

I guess sometimes grief comes to remind us of all the good in the life and that even though our loved ones may be gone they are never forgotten.

Till next time,

Shine on, even through the tears.

By the way – the latest?  It isn’t out yet.

Dad about 6 months before he lost his battle from cancer. Even sick, he still was being silly.

Our Gillette Children’s Hospital Story.

“I have some concerns.” Words from our 20 week ultrasound.

“The baby’s brain isn’t formed correctly. The baby may need surgery immediately after birth.” Words from a checkup about a month before birth.

“It’s a boy! He looks very healthy.” Words immediately after birth. 

“The MRI shows that Austin has Schizencephaly. He will more than likely never walk. Never talk. He is at high risk for seizures. He will have severe mental and developmental delays.” Words after the MRI at two months old.

Christmas Photo 2007

“I don’t know anything about schizencephaly but I will find out and do whatever we have to do to take care of Austin” Words from our pediatrician. 

“I think you should see Dr. Kevin Murphy. He is a great physician from Gillette Children’s Outreach services. He can help Austin physically. Plus you can see him right here in Alexandria, MN.” Words from our pediatrician when Austin was about 18 months old. 

Words are very powerful. They can give you hope and they can crush you. Any family that has dealt with extra medical stuff knows all too well that simple words can be more powerful than the latest medical breakthrough.

Austin was born in 2007 with Schizencephaly, a rare brain migrational disorder. If you were to look at his MRI you would see a big cleft on the left side of his brain along with other parts of the brain too smooth or too rippled or slightly out of place. This has led to additional diagnosis of cerebral palsey, epilepsy, and restless leg syndrome. He has significant high muscle tone (his muscles are super tight all the time) on the right side of his body. He is primarily nonverbal. He uses sign language and gestures. He also uses lots of words, but people that aren’t with him on a regular basis would never understand him. He has a communication device which is a specialized tablet type device with software loaded with all kinds of icons and language. With a touch of the screen it will speak for him. Austin is very capable of using the device when he wants too. 

July 2014. We FINALLY received Little Bears new “talker” (Communication Device). He was very excited to have his new voice.

All medical stuff aside, Austin is a very typical nine year old boy. He loves sports. Especially football, soccer, hockey, baseball and basketball. He fights with his brother. He reads books. He makes pudding and knows how to empty the dishwasher. He folds towels and cleans toilets. He rides bike. He gives great hugs and tells me every day that he loves Mom 100%. 

Our Gillette story has many characters including Dr. Kevin Murphy, Ross Huebner, Joni, Deb H, Dr. Novak and many more. Our story takes place all over Minnesota. We lived in Starbuck. Austin was born at Abbott in Minneapolis. We have seen outreach staff in Brainerd, Bemidji, Detroit Lakes, Alexandria and our current favorite spot is Crookston. 

Our first appointment with Dr. Kevin Murphy lasted several hours. He read all of Austin’s medical records. He talked to us. He talked to big brother Nick. He watched Austin scoot around and try to do everything asked of him. Hope.

He prescribed our first pair of AFO’s (Ankle Foot Orthotics). He prescribed a soft splint for his right hand. Hope.  (Video is from the summer of 2010.  Some of Little Bear’s first independent steps.  He is wearing his second or possibly his third pair of AFO’s made by Ross from Gillette.  I give a lot of credit to Gillette for this huge accomplishment!)

We met Ross. Ross casted Austin for that first set of AFO’s. He answered all our questions. We talked tractors. We talked family. Hope. Connections. 

Austin has had the privilege of seeing Dr. Murphy or one of his associates every three months for the last eight years. He has also had the opportunity of working with Ross that whole time as well. We moved from Starbuck, MN to Grand Forks, ND six years ago and still only travel 20 miles to see these people. Convenience. Helpful. Hope. 

Austin loves his braces (that’s what we call his AFO’s). He wears them every day from the moment he gets dressed in the morning until bedtime. When he grows and the braces need an adjustment we call or email and see Ross with a 20 minute drive to Crookston. It is guaranteed that Ross will bring a smile to Austin’s face and many times Ross will get a hug on the way out. Ross is almost like family to us. Once, and only once we attempted to use another provider (thanks to medicaid rules) for Austin’s braces. It was a nightmare. They lasted less than a week before I called, begging for Ross to fit us in for new moldings. He did. Austin has always been excited to get his new braces but this time I think he jumped for joy. Helpful. Caring. Consistent. Hope. Happy.

About a year ago, Dr. Murphy suggested that we travel to Gillette Children’s hospital in St. Paul to complete a gait lab and follow up with an orthopedic surgeon. Austin was cooperative but nervous during the gait lab until he found out that the technician could turn him into a robot on the computer. Then it was a real life computer game where he could walk or run and then see it on the screen. 

July 2016 Gait Study at Gillette. All the little lights are sensors that helped “create the robot” showing exactly how he walks. Amazing technology at work.

In August we followed up with Dr. Novak for the results and next steps. One of Austin’s favorite colors is purple and we just happened to see Dr. Novak in a purple room. Touch screen games in the waiting room removed the nervousness for Austin. The x-rays were even fun. Kid focused. Fun. Healthy. Happy. 

We scheduled surgery for November. It was a Single-Event Multilevel Surgery (SEMLS) on both feet. I’ll skip the medical jargon and say this:  on the left we fixed his flat foot with two incisions.  On the right, we fixed his flat foot, moved his heel, lengthened and straightened his tibia (the front bone in your lower leg) and lengthened his calf muscle with a total of five incisions. We prepared. In Austin’s words he was getting new feet that would help him run faster and slam dunk a basketball. Big ideas. Hope.

We arrived for surgery. Even though Gillette Children’s hospital in St Paul was under some construction, it was still an amazing facility. Austin was calm but nervous. Mom and Dad were calm but nervous. Two Pediatric Orthopedic Surgeons, a whole slew of nurses and others to complete the surgery, fit him for new AFO’s, dress both feet in giant bandages and five hours later Austin made it to recovery. Then he was off to his own room with an Xbox 360 all for him to play. He had amazing nurses and aides. Every day of our hospital stay a young man, Casey, was his nurses aid. He quickly became Austin’s favorite. To the point that one day he even asked for the “tall boy”.  Caring. Amazing. Healthy. Hope. 

November 21, 2016. Gran and Little Bear having some fun while recovering at Gillette Children’s Hospital post surgery.

Austin’s favorite color is blue and his favorite books are Pete the Cat books. (Pete is an all blue cat with a unique perspective on life.) Of course he had blue casts. We came to call his casts his Pete the Cat feet. After our stay at Gillette and a few days at Grandma and Grandpa’s house we came back home to Grand Forks, ND.  Austin’s first request was to play baseball. In his wheelchair, covered in blankets, he smiled from ear to ear holding his aluminum bat while Grandma pitched to him. Happiness. Hope. 

November 25, 2016. First day home from surgery. Playing some baseball with big brother.

Four weeks later, Mom, Grandma and Austin headed back to St. Paul. We said goodbye to the Pete the Cat feet and were fitted for his new, blue, AFO’s. And then he stood and took a few steps with Mom’s help. Absolutely amazing. Another four weeks, x-rays, a little more flexibility worked into his AFO’s and happily walking, almost running, away. Amazing. New feet rock! Hope.

Free of our Pete the Cat blue casts and sporting our new blue AFO’s. His smile says it all.

Three months since surgery and Austin spent a beautiful day outside shoveling snow, playing basketball and jumping over puddles. He is already talking about Special Olympics Soccer this summer. He will be faster. He will be stronger. He is hoping to bring home gold this year. Goals. Dreams. 

Words are powerful. Actions are powerful. At the end of the day it is still all about the people. When I think of Gillette, it is not of the big, beautiful hospital in downtown St. Paul it is of the people and what they have given Austin. Hope. Dreams. Health. Happiness. Gillette is Dr. Novak and Dr. Murphy and Ross and Deb and so many more real, caring people. A visit to any of these people is a promise of a great future for Austin. A 20 minute drive to Crookston for all the little things is convenience for Mom and Dad. It means we get the best of the best to care for Austin in our neighborhood. We aren’t alone. Most of the time, Ross and others are booked solid all day. Outreach Services allow us to take the least amount of time off from work and school. It saves us money in travel expenses. It gives us peace of mind to always see the same provider. I don’t want to imagine our lives if Gillette didn’t have their outreach services. Having the positive experiences we have had and given the uncertainties in the medical and insurance world’s these days, I worry about the future. Still Gillette’s outreach services have been one solid rock for our family, a known and trustworthy resource that I hope only continues to grow.  

Convenience. Helpful. Hope. Family. 

Four months since surgery and Austin is back to riding bike, playing basketball and soccer and running with his friends. All things he was never to be able to accomplish. To families facing new diagnosis and new referrals to Gillette, know that the future is bright. You’ll have top notch providers and caring people on your side. Your kiddos will only be limited by their imagination. (Families if you have any questions on our journey or what might happen on yours please reach out.)

Hope. Never give up hope. 

Always a party waiting to happen. Try to tell this face what he can’t do….I dare you!