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

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/

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!

Daughter — to — Advocate how Hats change

I am a farm girl. I grew up on a family farm in north-central South Dakota near Ipswich. I am the youngest of 8 kids. We raised pigs farrow to finish (from birth to bacon), beef cattle and crops.  My parents were born during the Great Depression, grew up during World War II followed by the postwar economic boom only to be followed by the Agriculture Crisis of the late 1970’s and 1980’s.  I was an impressionable child during the 80’s ag crisis and to say that had a long term effect on me is an understatement.  1988 will forever live in my mind.  I don’t know that the times were any better or worse than any other year but it made an impression on me.  

It was a Saturday morning in January, I woke up early to watch cartoons like most kids but it was so bright outside.  I can still picture in my mind walking into the kitchen and looking out the west window to see the top peak of the big red barn engulfed in bright orange flames.  I went to Mom and Dad’s bedroom to wake them.  Dad sent me downstairs to wake my two brothers that were still at home.  Mom called the fire department and then the neighbors.  It was chaotic.  The lights flashed.  The overhead power line that ran from the main pole to the barn fell from the burning barn and onto the metal gates.  It was an amazing light show almost like fireworks (but how dangerous!!)  Mom told me to get dressed and be prepared to go outside.  I went out and stood by the house holding my black cat “Smoky.”  I watched my brothers and Dad go into the barn and start throwing pigs outside.  As the cold air hit the pigs they started to run around dazed.  Soon it was too dangerous for them to go back inside so Dad and my brothers moved vehicles and some straw bales to hopefully avoid any more losses.  The neighbors came.  They chased and caught pigs that were running loose.  They brought rolls and cookies and bars and coffee.  The fire department eventually came (mind you we lived 11 miles from town and the local fire department is made up of all volunteers – I have the utmost respect for all first responders – but especially the volunteer ones.)  and made sure that no other buildings caught fire and once the barn had burned all the way made sure the fire was out.  We lost our dog BJ in the fire.  We lost several sows (mamma pigs) and some baby pigs along with some older pigs (like the ones that were thrown from the barn and saved.)  Coming from a family and neighborhood with tremendous faith, the conversation was one of thankfulness.  Thankful that no one was hurt.  Thankful that no other buildings caught fire.  Thankful for all who came in support. 

The Barn

Our dog BJ that perished in the barn fire.

Soon a new modern hog barn was built in its place.  Soon we had a new dog.  Soon crops and the garden were planted.  Soon the rain would come. But wait – it’s 1988 and the rain didn’t come.  Instead dust storms came.  Extreme heat came.  I spent my afternoons going to the hog barn to turn on and off homemade sprinklers to keep them cool.  We would watch the big black clouds roll in from the west – not storm clouds – dust clouds.  Mom and I spent a lot of time in the house playing Rumikub or cards.  We didn’t hang clothes on the line to dry as they would just get dusty again. It was far from a normal summer. 

Yet another dust storm rolling in. Yes the "black clouds" are dust in the air. Along with the dust on the ground.

One of my older sisters lived in ND and her first daughter was 1 ½ years old so off I went to spend a couple weeks with her family helping out with my niece and with their dairy farm operation.  It was work but it was fun.  About the time I was due to come home again, Mom called.  The shop had burned.  This time, Mom was in the house and the guys were in the field when a neighbor to the north of us called wondering if there was a fire at our farm as she could see smoke.  Mom went out and sure enough – flames coming from the shop.  She again called the fire department and called the neighbors.  It was a total loss.  Imagine loosing every tool you own.  Imagine loosing every nut, washer and bolt in the bolt bins.  Imagine loosing the spare parts you had on hand.  Imagine the incredible loss my parents felt, knowing that the crops that were growing weren’t going to yield much and they weren’t going to get paid much for them.  Imagine that the loan you took out in the spring to pay for the seed was at 18% interest and you weren’t going to be able to pay it back on time.  Now you’ve lost two buildings – and everything in them.  Do you just walk away?  Do you throw in the towel?  Do you say can it get any worse?  Again my parents took the road of gratitude and faith.  Thankful that no one was hurt.  Thankful that no other buildings were lost.  Thankful.  Having tremendous faith in God they believed that they would get through it.   

What I remember most from that tragedy was the rebuilding.  How all the neighbors and my older siblings came to help.  Mom and I would bake cookies and bars and make meals to feed the men.  It was fun.  I loved making “lunch” and taking it out the guys after school. It was a time of togetherness.  A time of people helping people. 

I didn’t realize it at the time just how bad the financial situation was for my parents.  Looking back – I do now.  One of my sisters had been paying the phone bill so that Mom and Dad could keep a phone.  She also paid for parts and groceries.  My oldest brother chipped in too.  That Christmas I remember getting three gifts.  Two from my brother who had my name  (at this time us siblings drew names at Christmas time)  it was a Mickey Mouse beach towel and a small cassette sized AM/FM radio with head phones.  (The towel is still at Mom’s house – worn but still getting used.)  The third gift from Mom and Dad was a stuffed white dog.  He looked like a bull dog.  I named him Wrinkles.  Wrinkles was a favorite.  Shared my bed until I was married.  Wrinkles helped me through high school love, break-ups, college, and even a miscarriage.  I could grab him in a minute.  All the moves we’ve made, I still know right where Wrinkles is.  What made Wrinkles special was a conversation I overheard that I wasn’t supposed to.  You see Mom and Dad didn’t have money to buy us all Christmas gifts that year.  My oldest brother bought Wrinkles for me.  Family taking care of family.  Wrinkles was and still is a reminder to me of that.

Why is any of 1988 important? That one year is a HUGE part of who I am today.  In high school a cousin and I dreamed of becoming accountants and owning a ranch in Wyoming.  I loved the farm life.  I wanted to be a farmer.  But you see Mom and Dad encouraged all of us to do anything BUT farm.  Farming was unpredictable and tough.  So I listened.  I went to college and got a degree and a job.  But that deep down love of agriculture has never left me.  I married a farm boy.  We even raised beef cattle of our own with my in-laws for several years.  My job for the last 8 years has been working for the Farm Service Agency (FSA).  FSA is an agency within the United States Department of Agriculture in charge of administering programs to assist farmers and ranchers.  We got involved.  We joined Farm Bureau.  We became advocates for agriculture.  We went to Washington, DC to see how policy really happens.  We went to leadership conferences.  We made friends.  I still love agriculture.  I don’t necessarily want to farm full time as the “Fear of 88” is still alive in me but I will do everything in my power to advocate for those that do. 

Crop commodity prices have dropped to very low prices once again.  I see farmers that are quitting.  I see farmers that will be forced to quit by their banks.  I see families struggling to hold on to the quality of life that farming brings.  I see parts of 1988 coming.  And it scares me.  And it angers me.  Every day on social media I see a post about organic vs conventional farming.  I see wildfires destroying pasture land in Kansas.  And I see my friends posts with their kids nursing a baby calf or pig or goat to health.  I see people bringing animals into their homes and bathtubs to warm them up so they can live.  I see optimism that this year the weather will be good and we might break even.  I see courage.  Strength. Faith.  I stand with them – to support them. 

Less than 2% of the US population are farmers.  Less than 2% of the population provides food, fuel, and fiber for each and every one of us.  People preach that organic should be the only way to farm. People preach that all animals should be raised outside.  People that are the 98%.  It does not matter to me if you choose organic, conventional, free-range, grass fed or grain fed.  Be thankful that you have the ability to have a choice.  Be grateful for the people putting their lives on the line to feed you.  No one way of farming is correct.  The best way to farm is how the farmer chooses to.  If the farm operation is reasonably profitable and working to be able to pass it on to the next generation then it is good.  I have friends and family that actively farm yet.  I have friends that farm conventionally.  I have friends that are 100% organic.  I stand with and support them all.  You should to. 

Today if you stop at your local grocery store to buy milk some of your choices are:  skim, 1%, 2%, whole, soy milk, lactose free, almond milk, rice milk, any of these as organic or from grass fed animals.  Your choices are limitless.  Stop.  Think.  What if your only choice was to buy milk or buy bread for your family.  Nothing else. No specialty items. Would all the choices and arguments matter?  Support Agriculture.  Say thanks to a farmer.  On social media try to find it in yourself to not partake in anti-agriculture comments and posts.  Instead, simply throw a shout out to all people involved in Agriculture.  “Thanks for taking the risk to feed me today.” 

If you ever have questions about ag practices or animal care…please ask a farmer or me. I know lots of farmers that would love to answer your questions.

I will always be a farm girl. One made from dirt and dust, gratitude and faith, compassion and strength. Our pasts do influence who we are and who we become – mine made me an advocate.

My Dad sold Jacques Seed back in the day. This is my "advocate hat."