New Chapter

I've written very little over the past 8 years. Now I want to jump back in as life has changed dramatically and there are stories worth writing home about. Let me begin with a brief summary of the past few months. Each of these is worth multiple posts on their own and maybe I'll come back to them in the future. 

• I married Charles in July of 2023. That's a huge change. I'm grateful to God for bringing us together. He's a good man. Part of marrying him is joining him in his adventures which are taking us to Mexico City. Charles is using his language abilities to help a Mexican organization translate the Bible into the indigenous languages of Mexico which are spoken by 24 million people.
  
  
  

• June 7 was my last official day with Central Rivers AEA where I have worked as an Occupational Therapist for the last 8 years. I worked with some great people who endeavor to help families, teachers, and students. I will miss interacting with students and seeing them grow and develop.
• We spent a week in Florida so I could complete orientation with Wycliffe. This was a restful time in the midst of everything else going on. We enjoyed a day at Epcot where Charles was delighted to speak 6 different languages.
  

• We celebrated our 1st anniversary with a nice meal in St Paul after being granted permanent residency visas by the Mexican consulate.
• We got the house ready to sell and sorted all our belongings into the following categories: garbage, give away, sell, long-term storage, and take-to-Mexico. We are so grateful for friends who helped us pack, clean, load and unload the truck. We could not have done it without you all. 
• Good-byes are a part of every move. We spent as much time as we could with both sides of the family and enjoyed 5 days in Wisconsin with Charles' side of the family. Saying good-bye to friends in Waterloo was particularly difficult for me. I will visit and my phone number still works, but I won't have regular face-to-face contact so it's not the same. These people have had a big impact on me. 
• We spent time in Sibley storing our belongings in my brother and sister-in-law's (who is Mexican) basement and paring down the take-to-Mexico pile to 6 pieces of checked luggage (4 of which were boxes) and 2 carry-ons. 

August 8, Charles' brother, Mike, drove us to the airport in Chicago where each piece of our luggage weighed in below the 25 kilo mark and we boarded our direct flight to Mexico City. 

The Adventure Continues!

Celebrating John's Birthday

One of the things I did during 2020 was help my parents sort through boxes of photos. Most of them dated back to more than 9 years ago because that is about the time we started using our phones as cameras. We all looked much younger in 1994.

One of those boxes was labeled John and was filled with pictures he had taken  

• of snowmobile trips with friends
• of trailers he had made and sundry farming photos
• of he and Lana and their trips to watch NASCAR races
• of their wedding
• and envelopes full of pictures of his precious daughter, Elizabeth.

I looked at some of them with tears in my eyes. He was a good son, brother, and friend. He was a faithful loving husband and he was such a good daddy. His smile lit up the room. He liked to tease though some didn't understand his sarcastic humor. His care for others was genuine. Life wasn't easy, but he was a good man who trusted in Jesus. 

Last Sunday morning, I listened to this song and I thought of John. We started singing it at my church about the time John died, 9 years ago. I remember times when I had to let others sing it over me because the words stuck in my throat as tears of raw grief ran down my cheeks. It speaks of Jesus' wondrous love that tasted the sting of death for all, disfigured and disdained, and 3 days later rose to shame the throes of death and overturn his rule.  The bridge and the final lines joyfully proclaim: 

He has cheated hell and seated us above the fall

In desperate places he paid our wages, one time, once and for all

... The man Jesus Christ laid Death in his grave. 

These words expressed the truth that was my rock 9 years ago. They still do. I'm so thankful that God has opened my eyes to see the beauty of Jesus my King. Those who despised and killed him actually participated in his coronation as they placed the thorns on his head. Because of him, this life is not the end. Yesterday John celebrated his 49th birthday with Jesus, his grandparents, Aunt Suzanne, and, knowing him, many many new friends he's met in the last 9 years. 

If it seems like a fairy tale that is too good to be true, ask God to open your eyes so you can see the glory of his sacrifice that understands and redeems your pain. 

Baseball at age 5

A couple of weeks ago Exo turned 5. He was excited about it for weeks and would proudly announce to anyone who asked that he was almost 5. Exo is a little guy with a ton of energy. He's short enough that he uses a booster seat at the table. He typically runs instead of walking and is known to jump from the furniture and attempts flips and standing on his head. He's also pretty smart, can write his name, and most days he can tell me what they worked on in Pre-K. He loves his little brother and smothers him with hugs and kisses.  He's super ticklish if you can catch him.

His birthday was a beautiful sunny fall afternoon and when I got home from work some friends were here eating ice cream in celebration. Because it was so nice and we had extra hands, we went outside to try some "baseball" with a big plastic bat and ball. Some cardboard that hasn't made it into the recycling worked as bases. Exo's instinct was to run to third base after getting a hit. Eventually he got it figured out, though he sometimes ran directly from first to third.  He just likes to run. At one point, all the kids were on base so we talked Christine into taking a turn with the bat while I held Joshua. Pretty soon the neighbors from across the street came over with their 3 year old boy who had been telling them since we got out there that he wanted to go play with those kids.

I wasn't in town for his birthday party the following Sunday but I heard stories about their baseball "game". The American family doing the pitching reported they were in the field while everyone else took turns batting and running the bases This time Mario got in on the action as well. A few days later I turned on the World Series so the family could see a real baseball game. Unfortunately the few innings we watched didn't have much action and no runs were scored. They were amazed at how the players snatched the ball out of the air with their gloves. The shots from the blimp brought several comments as well about the size of the stadium, the number of people there, and the number of cars. 

A Small Moment

I am often in classrooms during writing time so I've heard teachers from Kindergarten to 3rd grade tell their students to write about a "small moment" that really happened to them. I think they do this right at the beginning of the school year because kids find it more interesting to write about something they did over the summer than the mundane of the school year. Typically my week is rather mundane, but this week didn't feel that way at all. So here's small moment from the week that held many more.

Monday morning I woke up to the sound of thunder and rain on the roof. It has rained so much during September that Mario asked me one morning if it was rainy season. I told him this isn't normal and that this is a record breaking month in a year when we've received over 16 inches more than normal. My first stop Monday morning was the doctor's office. By the time I got in the door, I felt like a wet dog as I took off my rain jacket and gave it a good shake so I wouldn't drip all the way to office on the 2nd floor. When I came out, only a light sprinkle was falling. However water was running along the gutters and I took a couple of detours to avoid deeper water running across the street. In places water was gushing out of people's yards onto the street.

Once I got to the school I decided to set up shop at an empty table at the end of one of the hallways rather than going to my usual space out in a portable.  It was a wise choice as it rained all day alternating between sprinkles and what the French call "raining ropes". I watched the puddles in the playground turn to a lake and the low spots fill with water. The official total for the day was 2.07 inches but others reported over 4 inches in their rain gauge. The weather man expects the rain to continue for the next couple of weeks with an occasional day of sun in between systems. It looks like talk about the weather will continue to include comments about being thankful that it isn't snow, people telling their water-in-the-basement stories, and wondering how the farmers are going to harvest their crops.

Cabbage or Garbage?

Yesterday I was eating the noon meal with Mario, Christine and the kids. Christine had prepared chicken and rice. As we started eating she said something about "garbage." After a few questions and input from the kids and Mario I figured out that she was talking about "cabbage." I pointed to the trash can and said that was the garbage. Christine laughed. At supper she did serve some cabbage and verified that she was saying it with a 'c' sound rather than a 'g'.

Most of the time when we are eating, I'm the odd one out as the conversation is in Swahili. I don't mind. Christine needs to be able to talk with her kids. I do put my foot down when Nathalie says, "Mom wants to know...." I turn to Christine and ask her to tell me directly. She gives me a big smile and tries.

I've also begun introducing them to American sports. Mario watches soccer every weekend and the rest of the family seems to enjoy it as well. Yesterday when I was watching football, Christine and the kids came in. Exo enjoys WWE so he likes the physical aspect of the game. After watching for a few minutes, Christine asked, "What are they doing?" I tried to explain the overall idea and then said, "It's complicated." Christine didn't know that word so I said, "It isn't simple." No it isn't.

I've also started teaching the kids to hit a ball using a plastic ball and bat.  If I get the pitch anywhere close, Exo gives it a good whack. I need to get Mario out there and see if he is a better pitcher than I. And sometimes when the cousins are over, I can try to teach them the concept of running the bases. Come to think of it, baseball isn't a simple game either. I might need the help of some videos.

Year 3, Week 1

Last Thursday was the first day of school at the start of my third year as a school-based Occupational Therapist. Here's a few of the things I observed on the first few days.

• I went into one kindergarten room where the class was sitting on different colored lines on the carpet. They were to go line up when the teacher said the color of their line. One of the students from the pink line got up when the blue line was called. The teacher repeated her name over and over with absolutely no response from the student. When she got to the door, an aide looked at her name tag and pronounced her name differently. The girl immediately looked up at her. Say her name right and she'll respond!
• Day 1 can be rather chaotic in special education classrooms, especially when there are new students.  I was in two such classrooms on the first day that had some very busy students who were in constant motion. One of the boys has a goal of sitting for 1 minute while working on a task. We were elated to see him playing with play dough for 3 1/2 minutes while I provided some physical boundaries by kneeling next to him with my arm around him. We've requested a chair with sides and a pummel so he has additional physical boundaries all the time. We'll see if it helps.
• Day 2 I arrived at one of my schools and was immediately asked, "Have you read your email?" I was then told about a kindergarten student who had a very difficult first day to the point where she spent most of the day outside the classroom because she was being so disruptive. When I went to observe, this girl was doing great. As far as I know she did well all day. My theory: She had been very anxious the day before and was so worked up that she couldn't calm herself down enough to participate. Thankfully, once she knew what to expect, she was participating with her class. 
• I checked in on a boy who had had significant behavior concerns last spring. He also had a great first day. One example: he was one of the first dismissed to sit at the table for snack. I saw him pick up a piece of popcorn, put it down and ask, "Can I start eating right away?" His teacher responded, "Great question. We are going to wait until everyone is seated. And next time I'd like you to raise your hand." What a difference from the defiant, shoe-throwing kid we saw last spring. Summer was good for this student and he's with the perfect teacher for him. She has high expectations for all her students and also lets them know that she cares about each one of them. 

Life has changed!

I am sitting in the sun room, my favorite room in my new home. Lingala music is coming from the TV in the living room, sounds of a knife on a cutting board in the kitchen, a crying baby in one of the bedrooms, and the patter of 4 year old feet in the hallway. Yes, life has changed dramatically.

This morning, Mario and Christine and their three children ages 8, 4 1/2, and almost 3 months moved in with me. They arrived in Waterloo from Kenya on a cold evening last December. The small group I'm a part of met them at the airport to welcome them and have taken turns visiting them at least once a week. As Christine's pregnancy progressed the ladies who don't work have accompanied her to many doctor's appointments. The kids also had doctor appointments and dental procedures. Only Mario managed to escape multiple doctor visits. The kids adapted quickly to school and Natalie sometimes fills the role of translator for her mom. Their gentle spirits and faith in God have made it easy for us to love them.

When Mario expressed to us that he didn't feel safe in the house they were living in and how much he could afford in rent, we discussed different options. While out on a morning run I had the idea of them coming to live with me. I have room in the new home I moved into in May. The huge yard is begging to have some kids play in it and the basement reminds me of Mom sending my brothers and I downstairs to run off some steam in the winter. Mario would not have to be concerned about his family while he was working 2nd shift. They could get on their feet financially, improve their English, and save money to buy a house of their own. The group was supportive and the men are helping finish a 2nd bathroom in the basement. Mario and Christine were delighted and are so very thankful.

Yesterday when I showed the two older children around the house they were elated. Natalie looked around and said, "It's beautiful." When I showed them their bedroom and explained they would be sharing it she did a little dance. Exo is more quiet but his eyes were shining with excitement.

This morning the group helped them move their things over here while a couple of the ladies took the kids shopping for school clothes. My office, the guest room, and most of my living room furniture has been moved to the basement but there is still plenty of room for the kids to play. Christine worked on getting the kids' room organized while Mario hooked up the TV. 

Now that it is quieted down, Christine is learning her way around my kitchen as she prepares a meal. Mario is unpacking in their room. I held precious Joshua as I typed this until he fell asleep and now he's sleeping on his little bed in the corner of the dining room. Natalie went to explore a bit outside and Exo is watching cartoons.

Mario's brother stopped by earlier and said my offer for them to live with me was an answer to prayer by everyone in the family, including their parents in Congo. He thanked me over and over again and said that I was now part of the family. I told him what I told Mario and Christine: their being here will likely me bless me as much if not more than it blesses them. There will be difficult times, days when I wish I had a little more space in my room, or more quiet at night, or easier communication across cultures. There will be days when they wish the temperature was a little higher in my house. (Mario is already wearing his coat with the AC set at 73.) I know I will cherish the quiet Sunday afternoons while they are at church. But I expect that I will also greatly miss them whenever they move out into their own place.

Laments

I've always loved singing. Mom tells me that I used to sing about what I could see from the backseat of the car. My lyrics talked about the road that was by the ditch that was by the fence that was by the corn. (Our landscape is stunning in Iowa!)

Most of the singing I've done since I graduated from high school has been in a church context. Over the years I've reached the conclusion that we tend to get our theology more from the songs we sing than from the sermons we hear. As a result, the two most important questions to ask when determining what to include in a church's repertoire are: 1) Are the lyrics theologically sound? and 2) Can this be sung no matter how hard or good life may be? After that comes other considerations such as singability and musical tastes. I'm a part of Redeemer Church in Cedar Falls. We sing theologically robust songs with lots of words and almost every week we sing at least one song that can be called a lament. We always end on a joyful note as we revel in the gospel that is good news in every circumstance.

Currently my church is experiencing great sorrow because Micah, the 8 year old son of one of our families, died as a result of an accident on Tuesday. Wednesday evening much of the church gathered to pray and sing together in our grief. Others from the community also joined us. The mood was somber as I walked into a very quiet space. No music was playing. Micah's picture was on the screen. Children sat quietly. The only talking was done in whispers. The only sound that could be heard more than a few feet away came from the little ones who can't yet talk. Shortly after Micah's parents came in and sat flanked by close friends the elders began our time together. We prayed and read scriptures that speak of our hope in Jesus, death losing it's sting, the resurrection, and God being the God of comfort and the one who wipes the tears from our eyes.

Dirk then took his guitar and after a long pause to gather himself, he explained that at Redeemer we see singing as a primary way we fight for joy when we are together. God commands us to joyfully obey but we can't make ourselves be joyful. There is no switch we can flip. We must have God's help if we are to sing, and sing loudly.  As we sang, Dirk needed to pause at times between verses and songs so he could continue to lead us. Some could not sing because they were overcome with emotion but their lifted hands showed that they were in agreement with the words being sung around them. Micah's parents were too tired to stand but they sang through their tears.

In my first draft of this post, I quoted significant portions of the songs we sang. But as I've reflected on it more, those words don't mean as much when read on a page. The music and singing them with others adds to their power. Some of the snippets that have come back to my mind include:

Lord, we believe. But help our unbelief.

Lord, we believe. But help our hearts to sing,

That you are good, all of the time

All of the time you are good.

O God, you never leave my side

Your love stands firm through all my life...

Height nor depth nor anything else can pull us apart.

We are joined as one by your blood.

Hope will rise as we become more than conquerors 

Through the one who loved the world. 

So when I'm drowning out at sea
and all your breakers and your waves crash down on me,
I recall your safety scheme.
You're the one who made the waves
And your Son went out to suffer in my place
And to show me that I'm safe.

Though tonight I'm crying out,
"Let this cup pass from me now,"
You're still all that I need.
You're enough for me. 

I was deeply moved as we sang, Lord I need you, Oh, I need you. Every hour I need you... It was sung at the top of our voices in beautiful harmony. The death of a fun-loving boy reminded us that we are weak and helpless creatures who control nothing and are utterly dependent on our creator for everything. Maybe that is why Solomon says it is better to be in a house of mourning than a house of feasting. Mourning resets our perspective and draws us back to dependence on God. 

Dirk wanted to end with a song that would get Micah dancing so we proclaimed: 

All our sickness, all our sorrows

Jesus carried up the hill.

He has walked this path before us,

He is walking with us still.

Turning tragedy to triumph,

turning agony to praise.

There is blessing in the battle,

so take heart and stand amazed.

Rejoice!

When you cry to him he hears your voice.

He will wipe away your tears. Rejoice!

In the midst of suffering He will help you sing.

Rejoice!

When I was growing up, a quote from Martin Luther hung in our living room near the piano. 

Next to the Word of God, 

the noble art of music is the greatest treasure in the world. 

We experienced that reality on Wednesday evening. The truth we sang had been read and prayed but it touched a deeper cord when it was combined with music which allowed us to proclaim it loudly together. I'm sure that I'm not the only one who has been singing some of those words throughout the day. No wonder Paul tells us to sing to each other (Eph 5:19).

The mood was still somber when we finished. Many tears were shed and hugs were given but there was also a sense that the long road of healing and comfort had begun.  I left with a sense of gratitude for those who have written laments and church leaders who make sure we sing one almost every week. As a result, when we desperately needed them, we knew them and, with God's help, were able to sing them loudly with all of our hearts. 

Kindergarten

Every week I get to spend some time with kindergartners in their classroom. Five and six year olds are full of life and energy and love to tell stories -- that have nothing to do with the current topic. One of the reasons it is so fun to work with them is because progress is readily seen. You can tell a lot about how ready a child is to start writing by how he colors and draws. I'll give you an example of one boy. At the beginning of the year he held a crayon or pencil with his fist and scribbled away. When asked what he had drawn he had an explanation. "That's me and Mom and Dad at the zoo and that's the lion!" He had difficulty tracing a straight line or drawing a circle and without being able to do those basic shapes, it is hard to write letters. So at the beginning we used lots of hand-over-hand as we worked on the letters of his name. Using small bits of chalk or broken crayons got him to hold his pencil correctly. Writing on a chalk board or in boxes gave him some boundaries and extra feedback and in time he was consistently writing his first name.

Two weeks ago I watched him as he drew a picture and knew improvement was being made when the first thing on the paper was a circle and a couple of lines in an attempt to draw a stick figure. By the time he had finished it was covered with scribbles but I had seen signs of progress. This week when he opened his writing folder I didn't have to ask him what he had drawn. It was clearly a snowman: three circles, one on top of the other with a hat on top. There were only a few scribbles on the page. He told me he wanted to draw something about the movie Zootopia and began with a small circle and two lines on top, and a couple of lines going down. It wasn't a recognizable rabbit and his fox was about the same but he was using controlled and small movements. His building had no sharp corners but he was trying to make a rectangle. I am rejoicing to see this boy increase his skills.

The next day I visited a classroom which was rather chaotic at times at the beginning of the year. There is a runner in that classroom so there is a gate at each door and the kids needed multiple reminders to go from one center to another or back to their desk and actually do what they were supposed to be doing. This week when I walked in, everyone was where they were supposed to be and the noise level was appropriate for the activity. When it was time to move from one center to another it was done with minimal reminders. The kids on the computers moved to the library. Those at the library went to the table and began to draw... It was amazing compared to what it was like a month ago. It's great for everyone involved when there are more good days than bad.

Writer's Workshop

Because of my role as a school occupational therapist I am often in classrooms during writing time which is usually called writer's workshop. Kindergarteners draw pictures and label them. First graders write a few sentences about a "small moment." Third graders add describing words and more details to their sentences while drawing a "quick sketch". Today's story is too long to qualify as a "small moment" and I have no sketch. However, I will try and edit before I publish.

Last Monday morning I was sitting with a co-worker doing some computer work and I heard some buzzing that didn't go away. My co-worker suggested it sounded like someone outside with a weed-whacker. That seemed plausible except this went on and on and on. Eventually I realized the noise was coming from my bag. My phone, that had taken a quick dip in some water that morning, was continually vibrating. The only way to stop it was to take out the battery.

After work I went to a phone repair shop where I learned that 1) my phone was not worth the $65 to take it apart and dry it out, and 2) once a phone gets wet it is only a matter of time before it dies. I have been frustrated for some time by the lack of internal memory on my phone so decided this was a good excuse to upgrade. My next stop was Best Buy where two saleswomen helped me find the best option that fit my budget and typical call, text, and data use. I also decided to get a new number rather than waiting for the previous number to be released by my previous provider. That decision is why this story doesn't qualify as a "small moment."

The next morning I notified co-workers that I could be reached at a new number. In the afternoon I sent a text to a friend from church inviting her to come over for supper. A few minutes later she called, "I tried to text you but I get a response from someone who doesn't know who I am. Are you OK?" It seemed strange but when I got home from work I started notified about half of my contacts of my new number. Some texts came back to me but I later learned that for some strange reason most were ending up on someone else's phone. However, all of the calls appeared to be coming only to my phone.

The next morning I engaged in the futile attempt of reaching an actual human being at my provider's customer service. I couldn't seem to push the right number. (I know; push zero for as many times as it takes.)  At work I asked a co-worker if she had responded to my text. She hadn't at the time but did then and got a response from someone else, "Do I know you?" I then used my co-worker's phone to dialogue with the poor person who was getting texts for Alice when she wasn't Alice. Long story short, this person had an old iPhone she only used to facetime with her friends when connected to WiFi. The number I had been given was tied to her apple account so any time she was online, the texts to her old number went to her phone rather than to mine. A very frustrating situation for us both! I thanked her for clearing up the mystery and assured her I would take care of it as soon as I was off work.

Back to Best Buy where a different salesman figured out I could go online and change my number. That looked and sounded far easier than trying to call customer service and that turned out to be the case.  All that was left to do was to send out numerous texts once again:

This is Alice sending you my 2nd new number in as many days. 

Hope this one isn't connected with someone's Apple account. 

All the responses arrived on my phone. At least I think they did.

Catching up on life

Last week a friend posted on Facebook that she would be in Cedar Rapids for a week and would love to get together with anyone in the area. She wasn't expecting a reply from me but we were both glad that it worked out to spend Sunday afternoon together. We first met at a conference for single missionaries while she was living in Spain and I in France. The last time we saw each other, I was moving to Minneapolis. Five years later, she is now in Germany and I'm in Cedar Falls. Between trips to a Chinese buffet we took turns telling the stories of the past five years. In some ways our lives have had similar twists and turns. God led us to different places and opened up doors that we didn't expect or necessarily want. Last November we both ended up in the hospital: I with a planned surgery to remove my thyroid and she with a bizarre infection in the lining of her lung that the doctor's still can't explain. I was also eager to hear some firsthand stories about the huge influx of refugees in Germany. She gave an encouraging report of how the churches in her area are helping to meet needs and encourage integration in the midst of a government system that is somewhat overwhelmed. The news reports don't talk about the open doors for the gospel but they are there and many of these refugees are open.

After a couple of hours of stories we were the only ones left in the restaurant and began wondering if they were waiting for us to leave so they could move on to other things. As we paid the man commented, "You look like friends who haven't seen each other for a long time." That would pretty much sum it up.

Cultural Diversity

At the end of my 2nd interview for my current position, I was asked what I thought about working in a school district where over 30 languages were spoken. I could hardly wait for them to finish asking the question because I was quite excited at the prospect of living in a more culturally diverse setting. I noticed small things as soon as I arrived: the Indian and Thai restaurants, the Bosnian bakery, the varying shades of black, brown and white skin tones at the grocery store. Once I started work I began to interact with students and adults with varying life experiences and I throughly enjoy it.

Last week one of my co-workers received referrals for two children in a French speaking family. It was great fun to go with an early child educator into their home and translate. I was slightly disappointed when it turned out the kids were doing great and just need to get into preschool. That meant I wouldn't get to go back. The whole experience brought back to mind the visits in the homes of my friends in France.

Tuesday evening I met "Fatima" a student from the Middle East who is here studying English at UNI. The program she is in seeks to match up students with local families. On Saturday I went with her, a cousin and two other international students to the National Cattle Congress in Waterloo. It it turned out to be like a fair that is heavy on the livestock and light on all other types of displays. As we entered the first barn, I looked around and Fatima was nowhere to be seen. It turns out she is quite afraid of animals. It was easier for her to walk into the barns where the animals were in pens than the ones where the back of the stalls were open. With some encouragement she was happy to look from a distance. The other two students from Malaysia were eager to pet the llamas and rabbits. When we walked by the goats, Fatima told me of a vivid memory of buying a goat with her father and crying with great fear as only a 5 year old can when he put it in the back of the car to take home. It all made me smile, and she was a good sport. As we left I told her she now had something to write home about. She was puzzled but after I explained, she said she had already sent pictures on snapchat. She told me she had a great time, and I'll take her word for it, though I can't help but wonder if she was telling me that just to make me feel good. I would love to hear what she told her brother and cousin who are also here. Next time we'll do something that doesn't involve animals.

Ready or not, here we go

Though I officially started work on Aug 8, this past week was the first time I had a full 5 day work week. Monday and Wednesday I had time to get a handle on the students on my list -- or at least try to. Tuesday was another day of training for working with those in the birth to 3 age range. I won't be starting that right away, but still needed the training. And Thursday school started. I didn't really know what I was doing (and still don't) but I had been to observe and get to know the teachers and the students. It's been a long time since I've spent much time in an elementary school and here's some of the things I observed.

• Kids who were yawning and saying they were hungry at 10. They are still adjusting to the school schedule.
• Teachers who appeared to spend most of the first two days setting the tone for the year and who was in charge in the classroom. It takes a bit, but the students seemed to be slowly catching on from kindergarten to 5th grade.
• A few kids wandering the halls unsure of where the bathroom was or how to get back to their room. (I felt for them because I was in the same boat and had to ask for assistance a few times.)
• A kindergartener who sat with tears in her eyes throughout the whole time I was in her room.
• A few boys doing stellar work to include the one quiet girl in their group project.
• Teachers who knew what their daily schedule was for next week and others who knew what the plan was for today and a general idea of what is to come.
• Secretaries know everything. Really they do. They gave me teachers for everyone on my roster, directions, and opened the locked office for me. To top it off they all appeared calm in the midst of the controlled chaos.
• In a crowded classroom, an experienced teacher put the well-behaved kids in the middle and the ones with the most wiggles around the edge. 
• Teachers who addressed issues quietly and without the rest of the class being aware that there even had been an "issue." 
• By the end of day 2 I had a better idea of what questions to ask so I can nail down a schedule.

I may not know what I'm doing but I've been told that is OK and even to be expected. I'm grateful for my mentor and other fellow OTs that I see back at the office who answer my questions and assure me it will get better, even if it does take a few years.

A New Job!

I have started a new job. After working for 20 months as an OT with the geriatric population in a nursing home setting, I'm now working with AEA267 as an OT in the Waterloo, IA school district. That is a big switch in many ways. Instead of working with those who are 90 I'll be working with 9 year olds. I've gone from a small company to a state agency with around 600 employees. There is much to tell but since I've just had a few days of orientation, I'll stick to the story of how this came to be.

It started last winter with our declining and varying caseload. I was hired to work 40 hours a week but the actual hours worked depended upon the number of people who needed my services. Some days I worked 4 hours and the next I worked 10 with little advance notice. That pushed me to start looking for something else. There are few OT jobs in northwest Iowa and I didn't want to move to work with a similar company as I didn't think I would find a better one to work with. And if I was to move farther away, I wanted to work in schools so I would have vacations and in general be more available to spend time with my parents. I filled out numerous online applications and had an initial phone interview for a position in Arizona. That seemed too far away so I didn't follow through on that one. After several months of waiting, I had two more interviews for positions closer to home.

In the meantime my landlord would not let me have a month-to-month lease and I needed to give my notice before I knew if I would be offered a position. I prayed that I would know where I was going by the time I moved out. I received a call offering me the position on Friday, April 30 about 30 minutes before I left work to complete the final preparations before the moving crew showed up to load the trailer. I was very glad to know that I had a destination. My second thought was, "I'm going to France next summer!"

I continued working until the beginning of July when I moved back to my parents basement. Among other things I took an online refresher course in pediatrics where I learned the importance of tummy time and why crawling is so important for a child's development. I also went on vacation with Mom and my 13 year old niece, Elizabeth. I'll save those stories for another post. We picked Dad up in Indianapolis on July 30 after his two week bike trip from Lincoln, NE and headed home stopping through Cedar Falls to show them my new apartment. I moved in on Aug 3 and thanks to Uncle Steve and Mom and Dad's help, I felt pretty settled by the weekend even though I can't always remember where I put things.

Comfort foods

I recently heard an interview about how we learn to eat. It starts with what our mothers ate before before we were born. We are hard wired to like sweetness and dislike things that are bitter. From there, what we find tasty is largely based on what our parents put on the table when we were young. I grew up on meat, potatoes, and vegetables from the garden seasoned with salt, pepper and onion or whatever was in the Hamburger Helper packets. Thankfully Mom branched out as more foods became available in area grocery stores. There are only two things I don’t remember liking growing up. The texture of watermelon ruined it for me. I was very put off by both the taste and texture of liver. My parents required us to at least eat a little bit of everything on the table but I didn’t have to eat any watermelon. We did have to eat liver – every Saturday. My brothers and I figured that since Mom considered liver to be the best way to boost her low iron, than she and Dad could eat it when we were at school. But Mom’s theory was that if she was low on iron, we all were. So every Saturday noon we drowned our piece of liver in ketchup and thus learned to eat what we don’t like without (much) complaining. I now enjoy watermelon and "liver" is my standard response when people ask me if there is anything I don't like. They laugh and assure me it will never be served in their home. 

I am currently on a low-iodine diet which means no eggs, dairy, or anything from the sea including salt, and no more than 6 oz of meat a day. That’s a hard diet to maintain when going to a Super Bowl party so I decided to make some falafel. I wasn’t sure that anyone else at the party would even know what it was or would like it, but I wanted something I could eat. It’s a mixture of garbanzo beans and cilantro, flavored with cumin and, in my case, non-iodized salt. Add enough flour so it is stiff and fry it up. It tasted so good, crispy on the outside, soft in the middle with a mouthful of flavor that reminded me of warm and generous North African hospitality. One friend had just seen something about it on the cooking channel so she was delighted to taste it and declared it “good”, even though it was no longer warm and crispy. I was reminded of going to a hole-in-the-wall East-African restaurant with 2 friends, one of whom had been to Morocco. One taste of the complimentary soup was all we needed to be transported back to Morocco. My other friend thought it was "really good," but she didn't have the same associations. No wonder I like ethnic restaurants. The flavors remind me of places I have been and dear friends who have welcomed me to their table.

Caucusing

I grew up in Iowa and remember my parents driving to the big town of Harris to participate in the presidential caucus but this was the first year I was in the state when it was worth participating. It is quite different from voting on election day or in a primary as I have done in Minnesota.

The first difference is that everyone has to show up at the same time -- 7 PM. That led to the only traffic jam I’ve encountered in Spirit Lake in the entire time I've lived here. It seems there were a lot of other first time caucus goers since both parties broke participation records.

After parking my car and walking a couple of blocks, I stopped at the first table to find out which precinct I was in and made my way to the number 11 sign where I officially signed in. Every chair was filled along with the standing room so I stood off to the side near a precinct that had a whopping 12 participants.  The first order of business was a 2-minute speech given in support of each candidate in alphabetical order. Not all of the candidates had someone willing to speak for them. Some were better prepared than others. The moderator kept things moving and did cut one person off. The first candidate who didn’t have a spokesman (I think it was Kasich), opened the door for someone to give a 2-minute anyone-but-Trump speech. (This turned out to be ineffective since Trump won the county.) After that the moderator only allowed pro candidate speeches.  I doubt these speeches changed anyone’s mind since it is likely that those who showed up had someone they wanted to vote for.  Each speaker did encourage a large turnout on election day, no matter who the Republican candidate was.

After the speeches were out of the way it came down to precinct business. I was standing behind the people who were speaking so missed the details. It had something to do with choosing people to be part of the county Republican committee and county delegates. Finally a pad of 100 sheets of paper marked with the precinct number were handed to each precinct chair.  Somehow the chair managed to tear off a sheet and hand one to each person. The chairmen from the precinct with the most people immediately called out, “We need more!” I found a pen next door where there were fewer people, wrote the name of my choice, and placed it on the table where the chairwoman of precinct 11 was trying to maintain some semblance of order. I’m thankful I didn’t have to count the ballots and figured I could wait until morning for the results.  It was about 7:40 when I headed out the door.

Mentoring

A new weekly activity since October has been spending at least an hour with my mentee. She's a delightful 1st grader who is full of energy. We spent most of the fall doing outside activities which she loves. We played in parks, went on a nature scavenger hunt and hiking, and we played at the beach. Her mother says she isn't very athletic but the child loves to run. The favorite game at the park is tag and the trails at the park were often taken at a run. It's a good thing I'm somewhat in shape so I can attempt to keep up. She can run faster but I can run longer. Activities have been more difficult since winter arrived. We went swimming at the Y and last night we joined some people from my church at the bowling alley. Even the kid bowling balls were a bit heavy but she managed a decent score thanks to the bumper pads being up. The bumper pads added a few points to my score and I broke 100 which was my goal. My mentee was excited to see a classmate there and she enjoyed interacting with the other kids who cheered her on.

A friend jokingly asked if the program was for at-risk kids or at risk adults. Probably a bit of both. It's hard to tell what impact I'm having on a 1st grader, other than I'm providing a listening ear and one-on-one time in which she has a hard time getting in trouble because there are no other kids around to egg her on. Even when there have been other kids around she's been obedient. For me, it is an opportunity to be around a kid, which means even more to me because I spend my work day primarily with the geriatric population. My creativity is also being challenged as I come up with ideas of things to do and places to go. She has ideas as well which helps.

Try a mentoring program in your area. There is especially a need for men to be a role model for the boys who are waiting for a mentor of their own.

Surgeries

I don't usually make New Year's resolutions, but it will take some resolve to get back to writing here on a regular basis. There is plenty to write about but after a month (and now months) of silence, there is too much to write about and I don't know where to start. I've decided the best way is to jump back in with the most significant change over the past several months.

In May of 2014 I noticed a nodule on my neck in the thyroid area. I was in St Cloud at the time and didn't know a doctor even if I had the time to go. Besides, I was preparing for a six-week bike trip and didn't want it derailed. A doctor friend told me it wasn't urgent since I wasn't feeling any differently. I let it go longer than I should have, but I did finally get to the doctor in September. That began more trips to doctor's offices than I've had in 20 years.

The results from a fine needle aspiration biopsy was suspicious enough that the right side of my thyroid was removed on November 16. The diagnosis came back as follicular carcinoma which meant the other side needed to come out too. The second surgery was on December 24. I was off work for a week both times but recovered fairly well with little pain. The first time I stayed overnight at the hospital with a drain. The second time my surgeon allowed me to go home that same day and without the drain I had more swelling. But overall it didn't make much difference in my recovery. Both times I ran 3 miles 4-5 days after surgery. I went slow but I had no problem doing them. I did have a lifting restriction for a week and I dealt with some lightheadedness which evidently was due to being dehydrated.

People have asked me if I'm feeling better now. I wasn't feeling bad to begin with. In fact, in some ways it's "worse" now as my body adjusts to the thyroid meds and we figure out the proper dosage. It's only been a couple of weeks but they made a change in the dosage following a blood test on Friday. I haven't quite figured out how it all works, but I was feeling rather amped up especially in the early morning hours when I would have just as soon been sleeping. This will be the biggest challenge in the weeks or maybe months to come. I've joked with nurses that I now have a medical history and yes, I do take some medication. In February I'll be swallowing some radioactive iodine which will destroy any remaining thyroid tissue in my body. No further treatment should be needed. If I have to have cancer, thyroid cancer is a good kind to have.

A Hard Day

In the early afternoon I sat in the lobby area finishing up a daily note after seeing a patient off for a doctor's appointment. As I finished I looked out the window and saw a family dressed in suits and ties and dresses. A couple of them were carrying flowers and one was pushing their mother in a wheelchair. They were bringing her back after attending their father's funeral. She had been one of my patients several months ago. Her dementia makes it difficult to have a conversation with her but she is always pleasant and has a smile for me. I can't help but wonder if she will remember why her husband no longer comes to visit.

I shut my computer and headed around the corner in time to see another family leaving the room where their mother's body now lay as an empty shell. There were tears streaming down their cheeks. It hurts, even though she was elderly and her body was worn out. She too had been one of my patients. The things she said cracked me up sometimes. Upon return from the hospital she commented several times, "I can't believe they kept me at the hospital all that time without feeding me except through my arm. And they just let me lay in bed and didn't get me up. Now I just don't have any energy." Every time a resident dies, part of the personality of the place dies as well.

Later in the afternoon I walked by the office as one of the administrators explained to another resident and his wife that we were going to have to stop therapy with him. I was glad I wasn't responsible to have that conversation. It is hard to see someone stop progressing and even regress, especially someone who works so hard in therapy. He never complained though he would sometimes express frustration when his legs didn't cooperate. He wanted to go home and, even though the doctor had told him it wasn't safe, he and his wife still held out hope that he'd get better. Having the therapists tell him we couldn't continue must have felt like the final blow. We want to help people get back home and it's hard when that doesn't happen.

July 4 at the Lakes

I grew up 30 miles from Okoboji but we didn't make the trip east very often during the summer except to go to the Conference. We definitely did NOT make the trip on July 4. Staying up to watch the fireworks was already a big enough stretch for my family without adding on the drive home complicated by "all that traffic". This year I got to see the craziness of the 4th at the Lakes in person and here's a few reasons it wasn't that bad.

• I had already learned on Memorial Day weekend to go down to the light when I want to turn left.  
• On a few Friday afternoons as I headed home from work I've been caught behind enough cars at a light that I had to wait for it to cycle through 2 or 3 times before I could be on my way. But on July 2nd and 3rd I worked in Spirit Lake so I didn't get to see what traffic was like then.
• I spent most of the 4th celebrating with my cousin Nick, and his bride, Dondi, at their wedding. which began with a 2.5 mile run at 8:00, a wedding at 1:00, followed by a reception with grilled hamburger and pork patties, potato salad, chips, ice cream, and a dunking tank which the kids throughly enjoyed. The traffic didn't affect me, but Dad said the line at the 4-way stop at Vick's corner was 1/4 mile long. In normal circumstances, 3 cars would be considered a traffic jam.
• As I got home, my next-door neighbor was headed out for a bike ride. We talked of going to see the fireworks on our bikes and I told him that one of my patients had said the best place to see them was at Des Moines beach. He went to scout it out and found a house under construction with a small dock directly across the lake from the Park. It was a perfect spot for two introverts who aren't night owls. From our vantage point we could hear the music and the announcer without having to deal with the hordes of people. (Later someone told me there had been so many people in the area of the Park that she couldn't even hear the music.) We also had a great view of the fireworks when they began. At the end, Matt thought it was one of the best firework displays he'd ever seen. I decided not to mention those at the top of my list including the show for the G-7 in Lyon, or the competitions I saw in Germany and in Clear Lake, IA. For NW Iowa, it was good. And the best part was I was home and in bed by 11:00.