That Bridge

I have a post planned in my head exploring the last ten years of my life. I have moved at LEAST once a year in the last decade. During college I moved multiple times in just one year. I plan on writing more about my thoughts of moving around and finding stability once I get caught up on Downton Abbey. Oh, and after homework and stuff.

But today I wanted to reflect on a place that is very special to me- Atchison, KS. The reason this little town is on my mind today is because the old Amelia Earhart bridge... the old rickety bridge that crossed the Missouri River and into Atchison... was partly demolished today. I saw the video online and I couldn't help but feeling sad.

Moving to Atchison changed my life. I was guilted into visiting the first time. My mom and uncle took me on a campus visit to Benedictine College. I remembering feeling a pull to the campus, especially when the tour guide took us to the river lookout and said many people find their spouses here. The excitement of finding my soul mate inflamed my heart, even though I was seriously dating someone at the time. When I told the guy I was dating about my visit to Atchison and Benedictine he actually encouraged me to go there. He was probably trying to get rid of me because a few months later he ended our relationship, but part of me would also like to think it was the Holy Spirit prompting him to lead me in the right direction. I decided not to go to Benedictine, but the Holy Spirit wasn't done with me yet.

During my "Dark Years" I still made my way back to Atchison. After a very large house party in honor of my birthday, my mom took my best friend and I to Atchison for a haunted trolley tour. Even in my hungover stupor I felt drawn to this small, historical town. Eight months later my mom and I went to Atchison on Mother's Day weekend.

About a month after that Mother's Day trip I felt a pull to leave all that I was comfortable with and move to a town where I knew absolutely no one. That was so unlike me because the majority of the choices I had made was because I wanted to be around my loved ones. But God had different plans for me. I told my mom I wanted to move to Atchison, KS and work to save money to go to nursing school. After the last two years of announcing decisions that seriously disappointed my mom, I was surprised that she was in full support.

So I drove across that bridge to my new life. I found a small studio apartment that happened to be under an awesome newlywed couple who introduced me to Benedictine. I spent four years of my life driving back and forth on that bridge. I crossed that bridge to go my Uncle Dave's bedside as he was dying of cancer. I passed back on that bridge with the seeds of reversion back to the Catholic Church planted in my heart. I crossed that bridge to drive home to tell my mom I had been accepted to Benedictine College. I crossed that bridge with my new boyfriend and his brother to meet his mom, dad and sister... to the family I would be married into and to call my own.  I crossed that bridge a new college graduate, a huge accomplishment for me since I had basically flunked out of two colleges before Benedictine.

I watched the bridge as the flood waters of the Missouri crept higher and higher up its pillars. I watched the bridge as planes swooped back and forth and fireworks boomed in the sky at the Amelia Earhart festival in the summers. 

The bridge was always like a mother welcoming her kids back home. It was always a welcome sight after driving an hour and a half or after driving through a treacherous blizzard. Ryan and I have been back to Atchison only a couple of times since I graduated in 2009. The campus has grown, the studio apartment houses I lived in have new tenants, but the bridge was always the same. Now it won't be there anymore.

This is about more than a rickety old bridge. I have experienced so many changes in these last 10 years and some of the most exciting and scary life events happened when I crossed that bridge to Atchison, KS. I will forever be thankful to that bridge that carried me into some of the best years of my life.

Thinking about the Scary...

***This is a thinking-out-loud post. So please bear with me while I ramble.***

A few weekends ago we went into a Spirit Halloween store. We were wanting to look for a costume for Joe. It didn't cross my mind that the contents of this store might scare the living bejesus out of our innocent two-year old.

We walked in the door and a ginormous animatronic spider jumped out at us. Joe Spider-Manned his way up Ryan's legs and clutched onto him in pure terror. We tried to comfort him while we were walking through the store, but it was extremely difficult with creepy Halloween music infused with anguished screams and moans, costumes with bloody axes and decorations like this hanging all around. This is really a decoration from their store.

I bet the factory workers who make this crap have some freaky nightmares. 

We finally found the children's section, but Joe was still pale-white scared and I admit I was a little uneasy as well. After a minute or two of browsing, we quickly left, making sure we ran past the scary jumping spider and sang, "LA LA LA LA LA LA!!!" to distract Joe.

We went to Target which was right next to the Spirit store and Joe quickly resumed his normal happy toddler self. Still, I couldn't shake the heartbreaking and unsettling feeling I had when I saw the look of fear on Joe's face. For the first time ever I somewhat understood why some parents don't allow their children to celebrate Halloween.

Now, don't worry. I'm not going to ban my children from dressing up and trick or treating. I won't raise them to believe they are worshiping the devil and only let them partake in Harvest Festivals. I will allow and encourage them believe in fairies, unicorns, Santa Claus and make-believe worlds. I will let them have fun with their imagination.

Here I am, glorifying Satan.

I don't think there is anything wrong with fantasy, fun, and a little bit of fright. But Halloween can be so... overly-scary.

It doesn't help that I was very sensitive and easily frightened as a child. I had a love/hate relationship with Halloween. I loved the pumpkins, the candy, the frivolity. Trick or treating was fun... until I reached a house that had a bunch of scary crap on the porch. Screw the candy, let's move on. It's pretty inronic I was like that since my mom was one of those enthusiastic Halloween decorators and had bats, spider webs, spooky music and this on our front porch that scared the ever living crap out of me each year:

Obviously not too scared to get my picture taken with this unfortunate woman. 

I remember other things that used to terrify me as a child. My cousin had a cassette tape of scary stories. The one I remember the most was about old widow Clamsey and her cat that strangled people. I remember going to a friend's house and she and her older sister insisted on playing vampire. I was the unwilling victim and I remember it feeling so real and scary. There was one time I went to a birthday party sleepover and the birthday girl rented Halloween. Yeah, I spent most of the time pretending to be asleep. Don't even get me started about Jurassic Park. These things didn't just scare me... they stayed with me. I would dwell on them and they would haunt me. Maybe because I was practically an only child and only lived with my mother did it seem that I was all alone and vulnerable.

Fast forward to high school and I wasn't afraid of ANYTHING. Fear turned into brass balls as I frequently went on joy rides with my friends around town all Dukes of Hazzard style. Movies like The Exorcist and Texas Chainsaw Massacre didn't scare me. And my favorite activity? Ghost hunting. My senior year my best friend and I looked up ghost stories on the internet when we were supposed to be working on the school yearbook. After our football pep rally bonfire a bunch of us got together to go explore abandoned houses. (Yes, I know this sounds like a plot of a horror movie. Or just really really redneck-ish.)

Three of my closest friends and I really got into ghost hunting and paranormal investigating. We spent our weekend nights driving around the country, snapping photos in delapitated houses and spooky old graveyards.We tried to talk to the spirits and use Ouija boards, which I know is just asking for trouble. However, we did start and end each ghost hunting session with a prayer, so hopefully that protected us. I was fascinated with EVPs and ghost stories and all that jazz. We never encountered anything paranormal. The scariest thing we experienced was walking upstairs of an old house and coming face to face with a giant raccoon, which we were pretty sure had rabies.

But once I hit my spiritual growth spurt, fear started to creep in. Watching The Exorcism of Emily Rose and Paranormal Activity scared the living poop out of me. Some of my friends and I went to a major haunted house in the Kansas City area. When we were waiting in line I was filled with dread. When we started walking through and a huge Satan popped out of a mirror I was terrified. It wasn't a fun-type of scared... I wanted to get out of there. The thought of hell and evil became much more "real" to me when I became closer to God.

So I've gone from cowering in fear to giving fear the middle finger. Where am I now in regards to fear and Halloween?

I'm still a fan of spooky, creepy things. I still love a good ghost story. I love Tim Burton's eerie weirdness. I find the old-school macabre fascinating. And, hello, I'm Catholic! We have all sorts of weird stuff. We have relics. We have All Souls Day, a day for honoring dead people. We have saints like St. Lucy who had her eyes torn out and St. Denis who was beheaded but didn't die and traveled around awhile carrying around his head preaching.

St. Denis- Bad. Ass.

EYE BALLS!!!!

Catholics have all sorts of other saint stories involving dragons (Satan), saints getting their boobies cut off (St. Agatha of Sicily) and war and blood and guts. And many of the aspects of Halloween that we treasure are not from the hands of Satan, but from Catholicism. (You're welcome, candy companies.)

But then there is the other end of the scary spectrum. Are there some things we do around Halloween that delight Satan? We dress up as serial killers carrying around bloody butcher knives and axes. Women objectify themselves by dressing up as slutty nurses and slutty Big Birds. (What the hell is that all about?!) We focus on the dark and the horrible.

Aren't there enough scary things in our world? We have people shooting up movie theaters. We have 17 year old kids kidnapping children and dismembering their bodies. We have nannies allegedly stabbing children. We have parents beating their 3 week old babies to death. 

Just turn on the news and we see real-life horror stories. There have been real screams of terror and pleadings for help. Do we really need that in CD format to play on our front porches for trick or treaters? There has been precious, innocent blood spilled. Do we need the fake blood and the fake knives? There are so many souls being tormented by real-life demons every day. Do we really need to decorate our houses with them or dress up like them? Do we really need another slasher movie? This is where I can see why some parents don't allow Halloween for their children.

I don't really know the answer to those questions. Still, I do see some value in the scariness of life. After so much dark and terrible we really find joy in the goodness of life. We breathe a sigh of relief when we see the sun rise in a horror movie, because the scary part is usually over. We are delighted when we see that helicopter come and save the people from the dinosaur-infested island. We wipe away our tears and cast our burdens aside when we see Jesus Christ has defeated Satan and death and Hell, and the glorious, light-filled and joyous Heaven is opened to us- where there is only love and no fear. With out all the scary stuff in our lives we don't see just how good the Good is. The scary stuff can be fun at times, but too much of it will cause us to hope in something with a little more happiness and light.

I will let my children trick or treat. We'll put up scary black cats and witches and goblins. I'll let them be spooked. I will let them become lost in the adventure of their imaginations. But I am still trying to figure out that balance of protecting them from scary things and letting them gain courage on their own. I am still trying to figure out how much scary I can handle.

What are your thoughts on scary stuff and Halloween? 

Questions for my Grandmother

47 years ago today my Grandma Margaret passed away. My mom was twelve years old.

I don't know a lot of intimate details of her life. There are no journals or diaries. Heck, it's even hard to find a photograph of her, since she despised having her picture taken. (Just like my mom.) I know she was a wife to Chub McAdams, a mother to seven children, and was a faithful Catholic. She died when she was fifty-two years old from colon cancer.

When I think about her, I don't "miss" her because I never met her. When I think on her death I do get sad, but not in the same way when I think about my uncles or aunts who have passed away. I can still hear my Uncle Bud's voice. I can still hear my Uncle Mick's laugh. I can see my Uncle Bob's sly smile. I can see my Uncle Dave sitting in a chair, talking, drinking a Mountain Dew. I miss them terribly. I don't have that same experience when thinking about my Grandma Margaret, or even my Grandpa Chub for that matter, since he passed away when I was just two years old.

I have always felt a special connection to my Grandma. I was born on her birthday and in the same town where she was born and raised. My mother named me after her. I always thought that had a little something to do with my mom's decision not to give me up for adoption. My Grandma was very active in the choir at church, played the piano and loved participating in music. I like to think that I got my love of music from her. When I was little I was convinced she was my guardian angel.

Now that I am an adult there are times I wish I could talk to her face to face. When I am feeling discouraged about what is going on in my life I wish I could ask her questions..........

Did you ever worry how you and your husband would raise seven children? Did you even want seven children? How did you cope with the chaos? How did you discipline? Were you worried you would screw them up and they'd grow up to be psycho killers? Did you ever want to bang your head against the wall?


Did you ever worry about life? Were you a worrier like me? My mom told me a story about a time she was talking to her dad, fretting about something, and he told her, "You worry just like your mom used to." My mom also remembers one of her brothers getting you a book called How to Stop Worrying and Start Living by Dale Carnegie. How did you power through your worries and fears?

Did you ever despair in your financial situation? I know that you and your husband were poor. However, your children never knew just how bad off they were until they were much older. How did you hide it from them? How did you provide a happy childhood for them? How did you get by? Did you lay in bed and night and soak your pillow with your tears like I have done? Did you rely on God's help? Did you ever fear the worst?

It is well known in our family that you were a devoted Catholic. You were very active in your parish. Did you ever have doubts in your faith? Did you ever have spiritual darkness? Did you ever wonder what direction God wanted you to go in your life? You lived in a town that was dominantly Protestant. How hard was it to hold on to your faith? Did you ever fall to your knees in sorrow and pain and beg God for help? Was there anything you questioned about the Catholic Church? How did you raise your children in the church? Were you strict?

What were your feelings when after six boys you finally got your daughter? Were you over the moon excited? Were you ever scared being a mom? Your own mother died when you were just six years old. Did you ever second guess yourself? Was it always your dream to be a mother?

Did you ever have dreams and hopes? When I was younger I had big dreams of being an actress. Did you ever want to be a musician or a writer? I hear stories of how much you loved to write and how you were one of the fastest typists ever. Did I get my love of writing from you? Did you ever want to travel? Did you ever feel trapped in small town with seven kids? Or were you content with life?


I've heard that your siblings were a little more financially well off than you were. Did that make you jealous? Did you long for a big beautiful home with nice things? Did you long to be free of financial worry? Did you ever worry your children would feel the sting of being poor?

Your seven children were not all born very close together. My oldest uncle was 20 years old when my mom, the youngest and only girl, was born. As they grew older their sibling bonds grew tighter and stronger. How did you instill in them how important family is? I am hoping and praying that my children have a strong bond growing up like my mom and her siblings. How did you do that?

One thing my uncles have stressed about you is that you were very charismatic and had lots of friends. You could meet a stranger and an hour later you had exchanged addresses and would correspond for years. So it seems that even if you were depressed or melancholy at times you hid it well. My mom gets stopped in the grocery store by older people who tell her how wonderful of a woman you were. You've been gone from this world for nearly 50 years. What an impact you must have made. Even though there aren't many photos of you, I am sure your smile was infectious. I bet your laugh was hearty and joyful.


What do you think of your family here on earth? Do we make you proud? Are you resting in peace knowing that your children and grandchildren are still quite close? Are you happy that we rejoice in life, revel in memories and are dedicated to family? Are you sad that no priest or nun has come out of the family like you always wanted? (I promise I'll work on that for you!) Do I make you proud?

From what I can tell you were a happy woman. You were a devoted daughter of God and loved the Catholic Church, but you were no Puritan. She enjoyed a good shaggy dog story. Your grandparents had come to America from Ireland, so I'm sure you had a lot of spunk and spitfire.



I wish I could have known you. I know someday if I get to heaven I can ask you these questions. Whenever one of my uncles passes away, I always imagine you are the first person to greet them on the other side. You were the first to see them come into this world; you are the first person to see them in the other world. Someday our entire family will be reunited again. Not just for a three day family reunion or a couple days for a funeral. We will be reunited forever. Being stuck with your family for all eternity? Sounds like hell for some people. But not for us. It will be a glorious banquet. A perpetual campfire to gather around. And Jesus and Mary and the saints will be there, too, which will make it even more grand.



You have left such a great legacy. Through your marriage to Grandpa Chub you had 7 children and 28 grandchildren. Your family keeps growing. You keep on living through us. Even though I can't ask you the questions I want to ask you, I can listen to the stories I hear, learn from your life, and try to live my life as you did- loving God, loving family and loving life.

Questions for my Grandmother

47 years ago today my Grandma Margaret passed away. My mom was twelve years old.

I don't know a lot of intimate details of her life. There are no journals or diaries. Heck, it's even hard to find a photograph of her, since she despised having her picture taken. (Just like my mom.) I know she was a wife to Chub McAdams, a mother to seven children, and was a faithful Catholic. She died when she was fifty-two years old from colon cancer.

When I think about her, I don't "miss" her because I never met her. When I think on her death I do get sad, but not in the same way when I think about my uncles or aunts who have passed away. I can still hear my Uncle Bud's voice. I can still hear my Uncle Mick's laugh. I can see my Uncle Bob's sly smile. I can see my Uncle Dave sitting in a chair, talking, drinking a Mountain Dew. I miss them terribly. I don't have that same experience when thinking about my Grandma Margaret, or even my Grandpa Chub for that matter, since he passed away when I was just two years old.

I have always felt a special connection to my Grandma. I was born on her birthday and in the same town where she was born and raised. My mother named me after her. I always thought that had a little something to do with my mom's decision not to give me up for adoption. My Grandma was very active in the choir at church, played the piano and loved participating in music. I like to think that I got my love of music from her. When I was little I was convinced she was my guardian angel.

Now that I am an adult there are times I wish I could talk to her face to face. When I am feeling discouraged about what is going on in my life I wish I could ask her questions..........

Did you ever worry how you and your husband would raise seven children? Did you even want seven children? How did you cope with the chaos? How did you discipline? Were you worried you would screw them up and they'd grow up to be psycho killers? Did you ever want to bang your head against the wall?


Did you ever worry about life? Were you a worrier like me? My mom told me a story about a time she was talking to her dad, fretting about something, and he told her, "You worry just like your mom used to." My mom also remembers one of her brothers getting you a book called How to Stop Worrying and Start Living by Dale Carnegie. How did you power through your worries and fears?

Did you ever despair in your financial situation? I know that you and your husband were poor. However, your children never knew just how bad off they were until they were much older. How did you hide it from them? How did you provide a happy childhood for them? How did you get by? Did you lay in bed and night and soak your pillow with your tears like I have done? Did you rely on God's help? Did you ever fear the worst?

It is well known in our family that you were a devoted Catholic. You were very active in your parish. Did you ever have doubts in your faith? Did you ever have spiritual darkness? Did you ever wonder what direction God wanted you to go in your life? You lived in a town that was dominantly Protestant. How hard was it to hold on to your faith? Did you ever fall to your knees in sorrow and pain and beg God for help? Was there anything you questioned about the Catholic Church? How did you raise your children in the church? Were you strict?

What were your feelings when after six boys you finally got your daughter? Were you over the moon excited? Were you ever scared being a mom? Your own mother died when you were just six years old. Did you ever second guess yourself? Was it always your dream to be a mother?

Did you ever have dreams and hopes? When I was younger I had big dreams of being an actress. Did you ever want to be a musician or a writer? I hear stories of how much you loved to write and how you were one of the fastest typists ever. Did I get my love of writing from you? Did you ever want to travel? Did you ever feel trapped in small town with seven kids? Or were you content with life?


I've heard that your siblings were a little more financially well off than you were. Did that make you jealous? Did you long for a big beautiful home with nice things? Did you long to be free of financial worry? Did you ever worry your children would feel the sting of being poor?

Your seven children were not all born very close together. My oldest uncle was 20 years old when my mom, the youngest and only girl, was born. As they grew older their sibling bonds grew tighter and stronger. How did you instill in them how important family is? I am hoping and praying that my children have a strong bond growing up like my mom and her siblings. How did you do that?

One thing my uncles have stressed about you is that you were very charismatic and had lots of friends. You could meet a stranger and an hour later you had exchanged addresses and would correspond for years. So it seems that even if you were depressed or melancholy at times you hid it well. My mom gets stopped in the grocery store by older people who tell her how wonderful of a woman you were. You've been gone from this world for nearly 50 years. What an impact you must have made. Even though there aren't many photos of you, I am sure your smile was infectious. I bet your laugh was hearty and joyful.


What do you think of your family here on earth? Do we make you proud? Are you resting in peace knowing that your children and grandchildren are still quite close? Are you happy that we rejoice in life, revel in memories and are dedicated to family? Are you sad that no priest or nun has come out of the family like you always wanted? (I promise I'll work on that for you!) Do I make you proud?

From what I can tell you were a happy woman. You were a devoted daughter of God and loved the Catholic Church, but you were no Puritan. She enjoyed a good shaggy dog story. Your grandparents had come to America from Ireland, so I'm sure you had a lot of spunk and spitfire.



I wish I could have known you. I know someday if I get to heaven I can ask you these questions. Whenever one of my uncles passes away, I always imagine you are the first person to greet them on the other side. You were the first to see them come into this world; you are the first person to see them in the other world. Someday our entire family will be reunited again. Not just for a three day family reunion or a couple days for a funeral. We will be reunited forever. Being stuck with your family for all eternity? Sounds like hell for some people. But not for us. It will be a glorious banquet. A perpetual campfire to gather around. And Jesus and Mary and the saints will be there, too, which will make it even more grand.



You have left such a great legacy. Through your marriage to Grandpa Chub you had 7 children and 28 grandchildren. Your family keeps growing. You keep on living through us. Even though I can't ask you the questions I want to ask you, I can listen to the stories I hear, learn from your life, and try to live my life as you did- loving God, loving family and loving life.

Way Back When Vol. 1: The Baby-Sitters Club

I have another depressing, melancholic post coming up. However, I thought I would break up the regular boring posts of toddler adventures and my Mrs. Poopie Pants feelings and do something fun.

I'm going to start another series. My last series of Wondering Wednesdays hasn't gone quite how I wanted it, considering the last time I wrote a Wondering Wednesday post was nearly a year ago. This new series isn't quite as serious or thought provoking. It's going to be fun.

Every other week (or each week if I'm feeling up to it) I'm going to write a Way Back When post. I might even make it Way Back When Wednesday's, but I'm not going to get too ambitious. (I just now realized it is Thursday. D'OH!) In these posts I'm going to pick something from my childhood or teen years that is a special memory. Some of these you might remember. Some of these only people from my hometown or my family will understand. (Look for a post on 10th Street restaurant.)

But I thought it would be fun to write about something that doesn't emotionally drain me. It may bore you, my lovely readers, but maybe not. Maybe it will inspire you to think back on those happy days way back then.

My first Way Back When post will be about one of my favorite book series growing up: The Baby-Sitters Club


I was probably around nine years old when I started reading this series. My mom bought me the first few books and I was instantly hooked. Kristy, Claudia, Mary Anne and Stacy were like the big sisters I never had. Their stories were so interesting. Each character was so different.

My favorite character was probably the quiet and shy Mary Anne. She wasn't as crazy and obnoxious as the other characters. I did however go through a very strange Claudia stage. Claudia Kishi was very artistic, wore funky clothes and made her own jewelry. I specifically remember designing my own outfit. It was jean shorts with knee length biker shorts underneath and some old Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt that was too big so I used a scrunchie to bunch up the extra material to make a sort of tail thingy on my hip. I also made my own necklace with some weird beads made out of paper. That was a totally awesome look, let me tell ya. The worst part of it... I wore it to a family reunion... so there is photographic evidence of my totally awesome look. Oh well, something to laugh about now!

Of course reading all these books about babysitting made me want to start my very own baby-sitters club. When I was about 11 years old, I got my cousin and best friend to join with me in this new exciting business endeavor! I was to be president (I was such a Kristy...) and we called it Kids Inc. The most exciting part- we had FLYERS. Not flyers we made ourselves, no, no, these were made on a COMPUTER! I think my mom used some old ancient print program with the wicked cool graphics and she printed it on the paper where you had to tear off the sides (is it called dot matrix paper?) Oh my goodness... it was top notch! We were going to be gazillionaires! But, according to my diary, my best friend's dad wouldn't let her be in the club unless she took a baby-sitting class first, which wasn't offered anywhere near our hometown. I'm not sure why I didn't continue my grand idea with my cousin. We were probably in a fight. We were like sisters and fought all the time. Alas, my dreams of changing the course of babysitting in my hometown were dashed. I did eventually get over it.

Then of course there were the BSC VHS tapes I had of the TV series and I just HAD to go see the movie in theaters in 1995! I remember at the back of each BSC book there was a tear-out order form to be a part of the fan club. I think you got a pink watch and some other cool stuff. There was also an order form for the dolls. I always wanted to send these order forms out, but never did. I did have some of the special merchandise- the Secret Santa BSC book, the Guide to Babysitting book and the Post Card BSC book. But my most treasured item of all? The autographed picture of the author of The Baby-Sitters Club, Ann M. Martin. I had written her a letter and to my delight she wrote me back. My eleven-year-old self was over the moon!

I think the real reason I loved this series so much was because the girls of the books were stepping into their teen years, and I was just a few years from that milestone. I couldn't wait to become a teenager. I couldn't wait for lockers and dances and notes from your crush passed in the hallway. I was excited for the days of getting more responsibility and more freedom. Eleven years old is a strange time. I was still very much a child, but wanted so badly to be an adult. I don't think the term "tween" was around back then. The girls of The Baby-Sitters Club gave me something to look forward to, something to yearn for.

I still have some of my copies of the BSC. Sadly, I never read them all. I outgrew them before I had a chance to finish the series. I think the last one I remember reading was #100 Kristy's Worst Idea. I see the last one was #131 The Fire at Mary Anne's House (uh, WHAT?!!)

To end this post I present you a clip from The Baby-Sitters Club TV show episode of Dawn Saves the Trees. And yes, that is Zach Braff from Scrubs. Excellent!





What were some of your favorite book series growing up?

Christmas, Christmas Time is Here!

*That bald-headed babe is me on my first Christmas being held by my loving big brother, Roman Catholic Cop. Looks like I'm trying to punch him...even then I was trying to defend myself!

I should be packing my suitcase because tomorrow we leave for Kansas City to spend one Christmas with Ryan's family and then off to Tarkio to spend another Christmas with my family. I should be baking sheet after sheet of cookies. So what am I doing instead? Trying to write this blog post while being distracted by home videos that I burned to DVD last night.

A couple weeks ago I had big plans to dive deep into all my favorite Christmas memories and put them in blog form. And even though I am unemployed, I got too busy to organize my Christmas memory thoughts.

So here is a shorter version of my favorite Christmas memories.

Childhood

When I was growing up we didn't have a lot of money. We didn't have a telephone or a car. It was because of the generosity of family and of strangers that made my Christmases a wonderful childhood memory.

I'm not sure how old I was- maybe four or five years old, when one day we came home to find a box on our front porch. In it was a few toys for me (one was a big moose stuffed animal named Mooseltoe that I still have to do this day), a winter coat and a few groceries. My mom had no clue who it came from.

Thanks to my Uncle Steve and Aunt Betty and my Mom and I actually got a good Christmas. Without them my Chrismases would have been pretty bleak. Every Christmas until I was about eight years old Steve drove the two hours from Kansas City to Tarkio to pick us up and take us back to his house. He, his wife, and my mom pitched in for wonderful presents and goodies. His wife always cooked an amazing Christmas dinner. One year I was supposed to say grace before dinner and I stood up and said the "Pledge of Allegiance" like Aunt Bethany does on the movie "Christmas Vacation." (In my defense my older cousin convinced me to do it. I sure hope God has a sense of humor!) One time we drove to another uncle's house and sang Christmas carols in his front yard. We'd always go look at Christmas lights on the beautiful big homes on Ward Parkway and the Plaza Christmas lights. It wasn't anything too spectacular, but for this small-town girl I was awe-struck.

My mom and Steve used to take me to see Santa Clause at the Ward Parkway mall. Now here's the funny thing: while I was little I never knew the street with all the big homes was Ward Parkway or knew that all the shops lit up were called the Plaza. The only thing I was familiar with about Kansas City in my later years was Barry Road and North Oak Trafficway since my brother lived in that area. We never went south of the Missouri River. But when Ryan and I started dating I went south of the river a lot because his parents live there. They live just a few blocks from the Plaza and Ward Parkway. So when Christmas came and I begged Ryan to take me out to look at all the Christmas lights I was almost in tears because I was looking at the same houses and buildings I had ooo'ed and aahhh'ed at when I was a little kid! I never made the connection that these were the same areas! And it made me wonder....Like me, Ryan always went to see Santa at Ward Parkway mall. Maybe I was standing next to my future husband in line to see Santa when we were six years old! (I've scoured all my mom's photos and Ryan's mom's photos to see if that was the case...I don't have any hard evidence, but I'd like to think we did stand next to each other!)

Oh I have so many more memories to share of my childhood, but that will have to wait until next year. BUT- there is one commercial that always stands out to me and I swear it's been on for years:

Christmas Through a Child's Eyes

It is this time of year that gets me SO excited to have children someday. As adults we stress during this joyous holiday season. A lot of times we see no joy at all. We see expenses, budgets, event after event, time constraints, and pressure to make everything look holly jolly. But if you look at a child and see how excited they are, how pure their happiness is that Christmas is coming soon, the season takes on a whole new meaning.

I remember when my nephew Max was about three years old. I was helping him with his stocking and his joyful reactions to each thing pulled out brought tears to my eyes. When he pulled out a bottle of Elmo bubble bath you'd think he pulled out the Holy Grail he was so excited and happy!

That is a memory I will cherish and I cannot wait to see that same look of happiness and excitement on my own child's face someday.

Yay Mass!

I just love, love, LOVE Midnight Mass. Before Mass begins all the lights are off except for the lights in the back choir loft. The rest of the church is lit by candle light and Christmas lights. There are tons of sparkling poinsettias around and a large and beautiful nativity scene. While all the world is either asleep or doing their own holiday shin-dig, I am there with my family celebrating the birth of Christ by receiving His True Presence in the Eucharist. It truly is a silent night before Midnight Mass. I sing in the choir and we're pretty good (I think so anyway!)

It is so quiet and peaceful before Mass but once Mass begins it's an all out celebration! The lights turn on, the procession starts and the birth of Jesus is proclaimed! Our priest uses incense and all the High Mass goodies that is only used for Easter and funerals.

The church is usually packed. On any other Sunday many pews are left empty, but at Midnight mass even the much-avoided front row is filled. Sure they are not all St. Paul parishioners; many are family members of parishioners and CEO Catholics (Christmas, Easter and Other Occasions) but I'm sure a full church pleases the Lord.

Well I've already spent way too much time blogging away. I need to pack and bake! I'm taking a blogging break to spend time with family and friends. I wish all of you a very happy and blessed Christmas. May God bless each of you and your families!

Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred,

and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit,

become a child again at Christmas-time.

-Laura Ingalls Wilder

Ravens are Flying...

This upcoming weekend is Benedictine College's Homecoming. My husband and I would love to go back to visit the place where we met and fell in love. However, he has to work this weekend so we'll have to find some other time to visit. If you'd like to know how I discovered Benedictine you can find it in the post about my "spiritual growth spurt."

I wasn't a typical Benedictine student. Since I transferred there I never got to sit at the "Beanie Banquet" or even receive a transfer beanie (I had to request one a week before I graduated.) Beanies are a special tradition to Benedictine. I think we are the only college in the U.S. to uphold this tradition where freshman students wear these small skull-caps during the first couple of weeks of school and if an upper class man pulls off said beanie they have to "kaw" (loudly!) like a raven (our beloved mascot.)

I definitely did not belong to any clique. I wasn't a jock, a party-goer, musician or an artist. The group I would have definitely "belonged" to was the large and diverse group that was proud to be devout Catholics and upheld the teachings of the Church (after all, I was a Theology major!) I wasn't involved in any groups in campus ministry, or FOCUS, or the pro-life group (even though I so longed be a part.) I disciplined myself so hard that I refused to let any extra-curricular activities get in the way of finishing college. I was afraid if I stayed hours chatting in the Caf that I would be tempted to miss class. Sure, I wasn't participating in the "extra-curricular" activities I had at my previous schools, but I was so scared that even getting too heavily involved in campus ministry would get in the way of my studies.

I did make a few great friends, and I got along with my classmates, but I wasn't involved in late night runs to Daylight Doughnuts, have study sessions in the library or Haverty Center, or go on trips to the March for Life in Washington D.C. with my friends.

I never even learned the Fight Song.

But I am totally OK with all this. I am 110% proud to be a Raven and miss my days of being a student there.

Sure I had some problems with some of the administration, but since the college is growing quickly there are bound to be changes not everyone is happy with. And I know there are people who complained about their time at Benedictine. There are Facebook groups and comments of how horrible they think this college is. Even though I've complained as well, I get SO MAD at these comments.

How about focusing on the GOOD rather than the BAD? Those that complain cannot say their entire time at Benedictine was so horrible. Give me a break. (OK, I'll get off my miniature soap box now. Everyone has a right to their own opinion...)

So in my tradition of making lists, I will continue in what I miss about Benedictine College.

• Even though the college is growing, it is still a small community. The classes were small and I knew a lot of the students there. (Even if they didn't know me.) I felt I was a part of a very large family.
  

• Speaking of the word "community", I got SICK of hearing that word while I saw a student, but now I look back on it with fondness. The few times I went to eat at the Caf I observed a very diverse group of students. Many had different interests and beliefs, but we all were in the same boat: trying to get through school, figuring out the future, fighting boredom in Atchison and adjusting to this whole "growing up" thing.
  

• I loved my teachers. And not just my theology teachers. Dr. Nick was hilarious and insightful, Brother Larry had a lot of "cocktail information" and even my philosophy professors (a subject that makes me cringe a little bit) were funny and actually made some sense. All the professors I had genuinely cared about their students' well-being and growth.

• I miss the actual campus. Sure there were those KILLER stairs and hill between the Student Union and Admin (or St. Benedict's Hall, sorry- I'm old school.) But exercise is good right? (Well except when you are running late and have to physically RUN up those stairs...) The campus was right next to the Missouri River, and the whole campus was just beautiful. The trees, the flowers, the landscape. And even in winter when the first snow fell there was this quiet sense of peace. Now they have the beautiful Marian Grotto. (They always get the good stuff when we leave huh?)
  

• The library is where I spent my time preparing for my comps and studying for midterms. I always felt really safe and at home since I was surrounded by students with the same concerns and stresses as I was having. I knew I was not alone.

• I miss going to Mass at St. Benedict's. I especially miss the Student Masses on Sunday nights. I felt I was with family, and we were literally experiencing Heaven on Earth. The Liturgical Choir was amazing and really helped me to focus on celebrating the Eucharist. I miss having people to talk to about religion (and who actually share my same beliefs.) I miss people getting excited over a new piece of reading the Pope comes out with or when the Bishop comes to campus. I miss seeing a real spiritual fire for the Catholic Church. Perhaps that is what I miss the most...

• There was always something to do or a club to get involved with. Even though I did not take advantage of this, I know that if I wanted to I could go see a soccer or rugby game, listen to a speaker, or go see my fellow Raven's hard work and research on Discovery Day.

• I miss those glorious days when I really did not feel like going to class and I'd go up to the classroom and seeing a sign on the door saying "Class Canceled."

• I say this now that I've graduated, but I kind of miss those times right before a final. Everyone was nervous and anxious. But like I've said before, we were part of a community- we shared each other's pain.

• I loved participating in concert chorale. I loved the music concerts and productions offered by the music department. Kudos to you guys and girls.

• I loved the genuine pride of Benedictine that was shown in our sports programs. That was definitely a unifying force.
  

• I miss "The Joe." I obviously was not a resident at this all boys dorm, but Ryan was, and I LOVED the guys who lived there.

• I miss the excitement around the time of Christmas Break. The decorations, the parties the Advent Masses. We all worked so hard during the semester and were looking forward to going home to our families and getting a break.
  

• When a student tragically passes away, there is always a sense of unity in grieving this student. We all truly feel the pain of losing a part of our "family."
  

Gosh, I feel myself getting teary-eyed thinking back on my time at Benedictine. I remember during my last weeks there I was ready to be DONE FOREVER. (Of course I had been planning a wedding as well- I was a wee bit stressed.) A friend who graduated from a different college said I would miss it once I was out of there. I thought that was pure hog-wash. Sigh....well he was right (once again.)

I'm sure others have much more exciting memories of Benedictine. But these are mine. And these memories I will truly cherish forever.

"Surround her with your goodness and keep her in your peace.
May Benedictine flourish, her family increase.
Like dappled trees in Autumn
or flowers fresh in Spring,
your glory casts its beauty where souls in wisdom sing."
-O Lord of Every Blessing

Beautiful Fall

It's that time of year....the days get shorter, the weather gets cooler, and the landscape bursts with beautiful shades of red, gold and brown.

I absolutely love fall. I'd say it's my favorite season of the year, but when the first snow falls, I say winter is my favorite; when the tulips start to peek out of the ground, spring is my favorite; when the pool finally opens and it's sunny until 9:00 p.m., my favorite is summer!

I'm in the mood for listing, as you can see by my last blog. So I'll do it again, it's easier for me to type and doesn't bore y'all too much!

Why I love fall:

-hoodies

-the smell of burning leaves

-pumpkins (picking out, carving)

-the sound of crunching leaves under your feet

-turning on the heat for the first time (I love that musty smell that first comes out)

-putting stuff in the crock pot and smelling the yummy smells when you come home from work or school

-FOOTBALL!!!! (College, pro, high school- I love em all! I have great memories of attending high school football games!)

-caramel apples- yum!

-mums

-Halloween and Thanksgiving (I love the food, candy and history involved! I'm a nerd, I know..)

-decorating (My mom is the best fall decorator- the pumpkins, Indian corn, small gourds, neat Halloween stuff)

-chili

-the fall TV line-up (FINALLY my shows are on!)

-fall-scented candles

-apples in general

Autumn is such a peaceful and beautiful time. And it's a time for change. I feel a change in the air for my life... the job interview this past Tuesday went very well, so I'm hoping that a change of scenery will be in store for my husband, my doggie and I.

Like I mentioned a few blogs ago, I'm trying to get healthy. Eating-wise, I'm still eating junk, but just not as much! I'm walking about three miles a day, except for the last couple of days since I've been sick. I'm taking vitamins and getting to bed before midnight.

I'm making some changes with my appearance as well. I have never been or ever will be obsessed with appearances. But after dressing up nice for my interview I realized there are some areas I can "tend" to. I need to tweeze those eyebrows! I need to keep my hair brushed and a little bit of make-up isn't a bad thing. And for the love of Pete....I need to wear anything besides sweatpants!

I've been doing pretty good spiritually; I haven't been through a dry spell in awhile. I'm continuing daily reading devotions and praying nightly with my husband. However, I know that spiritual dry spells are always lurking around the corner. I'm trying hard to stay devoted even when it is not easy.

What a beautiful time of change.