Life doesn’t always go as planned

A few days after I arrived at my parents we started rearranging furniture in my bedroom to make room for some of the things I'd sent on the container. That led to the discovery of a water problem – at least in my room. Last Thursday morning my bleary eyes became wide awake when I stepped in water as I entered the bathroom. A quick look around showed that water was pretty much everywhere in the basement following about 6 ½ inches of rain during the night. I'm not sure what any of us had planned for the day but I know "completely empty the basement" was not on the list. Thanks to the help of my brother and one of his friends (thanks Randy!) everything that was in the basement (except for what is on shelves in the storeroom) is now either in the living room or in the garage. Dad even arranged it all so two cars will fit in the 3 car garage. In the process I made enough trips up and down the steps that my calves were sore the next morning. If you stop by during the next several weeks you are welcome to sit in the kitchen or at the dining room table. If you want something that is normally found in Dad's desk or in the sewing room, you'll just have to wait awhile. For now we have fans and dehumidifiers going to dry out the carpet as we try to figure out what can be done to try and prevent this from happening again. We've heard stories of someone who had waist-high water in their basement (thanks to 10 inches of rain) and another basement in the area that caved in. The dampness in our basement is inconvenient but so far all that's been thrown out is carpet pad.

Friday afternoon we headed north to De Smet SD with my brother's family. Elizabeth has loved the Laura Ingalls Wilder books so a trip to see where most of the stories in her books happened and the pageant sounded like a good weekend getaway. We spent all our time at the Ingalls homestead which is a great place to take kids. You can't go wrong when the first rule is, "Please touch, feel and climb on anything you want." Elizabeth jumped in with both feet and loved it all. She even washed clothes twice using a washboard. The woman in the replica of the Ingalls home had a great rapport with the kids and an hour later as we came by again she called Elizabeth by name. As the evening went on the clouds became more menacing and once again the weather changed our plans. Shortly after we got back to the hotel rain was coming down in sheets. Elizabeth was disappointed (and so were the rest of us) but there is always next year.

As I go through this time of transition it feels like nothing is stable. I was just getting things unpacked and remembering where I'd put them when I had to pack them all up again and now it's all out in the garage in different boxes. I was reminded this morning that no matter how things change or how unpredictable life becomes Jesus is the one who was, who is, and who is to come. He is the same, yesterday, today and forever. He never changes and he's sovereign over all the change in my life. That is very good.

Some small town culture at the County Fair

I couldn't turn down Elizabeth, my 7 year old niece, when she asked me to take her to the horse show at the county fair this week. She loves horses and I enjoy spending time with her. It turns out that she had a friend with her and Mommy came along too but she wanted to ride in my car. It was a warm afternoon as we pulled in a few minutes late – though I didn't need to be concerned about that since the schedule is approximate. Back in my 4-H days (30 years ago) I took some things to the fair but I have little memory of it. I certainly never went to the horse show. The actual judging had been done the day before so we were there to watch the games. They included: carrying an egg on the spoon while trotting, walking and then galloping (none of the eggs lasted very long at a gallop), barrel racing, poles, the key hole, the softball drop… Horses all have their own temperament and one in particular wasn't excited about getting too close to barrels, poles, buckets or anything else it was supposed to go around. A crowd favorite was the little pony with its junior rider who looked pretty good in each game.

Elizabeth's attention span was up before the games so I walked around the rest of the grounds. There wasn't much in the 4-H building but the number of animals in the barns made up for it. Maybe that's why I found the fair on the internet as the "Osceola County Livestock Show". The noisiest animals were the sheep. They were bleating pretty much non-stop. The hogs were pink and clean and it was hot enough they were probably missing some mud. The beef cattle looked like they had lots of thick steaks in them. I was able to discover the name of the best jam and salsa makers in the county in the open exhibit building. The commercial building was pretty sparse. The company reps who had made the trip looked pretty bored. Osceola County is too small to have a mid-way but there were several inflatable slides and jumpers for the kids. The one ride was the local REC (Rural Electric Company) boom truck that would rise to full extension (maybe 30 feet) and make a 360° turn. If that isn't enough excitement for you, you could have put $10 into the demolition derby raffle. The winner gets a car to drive in the feature demolition on Saturday night. It wasn't specified if the helmet was included.

Change is taking shape

It feels like nothing is normal right now. Everything is changing and in the midst of transition I'm thankful that some of the changes have become more concrete over the past week.

I bought a car. This Corolla was previously owned by a little old lady who managed to put 12,000 miles on it in 7 years. Despite that slow break-in-rate it survived me driving it 6 months worth of miles in four days.   

I made a trip to Minneapolis, my new home. On Thursday morning I met a friend of a friend who was considering me as a potential housemate. Then I visited and applied to the community college I'll be attending this fall. I also attended an informational meeting on the Occupational Therapy program at the U of Minn. I have a lot of work ahead of me. "Rigorous" seemed to be the word of the day. By the time I returned to where I was staying I was exhausted. That seems to be a major side-effect of being in transition.

Saturday morning I walked around Lake Harriet. I will enjoy all the bike trails in Minneapolis. The next stop was getting my living situation confirmed. While it will involve many more changes, it's great to have an address. Now I can start whittling away on the list of things that couldn't really be done without an address even though I won't be moving until sometime in early August. Until then I've been counseled to rest, rest, rest. Sounds good to me!

What's behind this blog

Writing letters home is a family tradition.  My grandparents moved to Iowa from Indiana when my mom was 7. The story I’ve heard is that Grandma would walk to the train station once a week to mail a letter to her mother.  She would tell whoever had accompanied her that the letter would arrive the next day.  (It would take at least 3 days now.)

The letters I remember receiving growing up were from my aunt.  She is a great story-teller and writer.  It helped that there was never a dull moment in her family so she had plenty of fodder.  For awhile Mom and her sister also exchanged cassette tapes.  We’d sit around the table listening to the table chatter at their house and then tape over it with our own table chatter.  (To bad those no longer exist – it would probably be some great blackmail material against my cousins.)

When I went to college I did my best to send a letter home every Wednesday so my parents would receive it on Saturday before they called me Sunday afternoon.  At first those letters were easy to write; there was a lot to tell about.  But as I settled into a routine it became more difficult and I’d ask my roommate for some ideas.  Her comment was, “If you don’t have anything to write about, why are you writing?” 

“Because that is what is expected.”  As far as I know I didn’t miss a week – and neither did Mom.

A few years after college I moved to France and continued to send a weekly letter home.  International phone calls were expensive so we talked only on birthdays and at Christmas.  That made the letters that crossed the Atlantic even more important.  Once I put a letter in the slot at the post office only to realize I hadn’t put a stamp on it.  There was no way to dig it out and my French wasn’t good enough to ask if they would get it for me.  I went back home and printed another one out and sent it with a stamp.  My parents received both on the same day.

Over the years I became much less disciplined in writing home each week.  I suppose I can blame it on email and the dramatic drop in telephone cost.   With email I no longer have to fill up the page and sometimes it’s just easier to call.  I’m sure Mom would think that is no excuse. (though she’d never say so.)

Besides writing home, I also was responsible for a monthly newsletter.  Now that I’ve left that position and have moved back to the US, several who received the newsletter have told me that they would like to stay in contact.  That led to the idea of this blog.  I can post a letter and those who are interested can read it here.  At the same time I’ve wondered when I’ll run out of things to say.  Since I’m in the midst of a major transition there will be many stories to tell.  But eventually I’ll settle into a routine and it will take more creativity and thought to come up with a new story.  I may even have to ask a friend for some help.  But I think I’ll enjoy the discipline of having to post something once a week to family and friends wherever they may be.

Look for a new post every weekend – and be sure and write back from time to time.