Turning the key in the lock for the last time

It’s that day.  It’s that day I never thought would come and now is here too soon.  Life is so strange that way.  I have despaired this day would ever come.  I have prayed for it.  I have cried for it.  I have packed my things a million times in my head and imagined how it would be when I turn the key in the apartment door for the last time.

In a couple hours, when I turn the key, it really won’t be the last time.  There will be one more trip with family crew in tow.  We will empty the apartment to the walls and carpet.  Our South Dakota acquired furniture will jostle in the back of a U-Haul to its new home in Kingston Springs.  It will be such a stressful trip that the emotions of leaving will be hidden under the rapid movements of people hurrying perhaps to beat a storm, get back to work, and life.  Maria, my youngest grandchild will keep us distracted as she chatters and seeks attention.

I’ve thought of this day so many times.  It’s here.  I have written so many wonderful blogs as I’ve laid in bed in the early morning or tossed and turned avoiding sleep at night.  The inspiration will come again.  I will put those thoughts on paper.  I still have things to say about the Storehouse of Snow. 

I think I’ve been silent on this blog for the last few days because I’m in pain.  It’s not the same pain that I struggled with for months and years during this sojourn to the crucible.  This pain is a good pain.  It is the pain of evaluation and reflection.  It is the pain of parting with friends.  It is the pain of realizing that when you face the truth, the truth is never what it seems.  I’ve said before, it never really was about South Dakota.  It was about me. 

Yesterday we had lunch with some of the people who work with my husband.  His support staff and a new hire that is a friend of mine.  We chatted over food.  He mostly with his support staff, me with my friend.  It was an odd but pleasant lunch.  When time came to say good-bye, there were a few hugs.  His main support person cried.  My husband patted her on the shoulder as they disengaged from a farewell hug.  He said what I’ve heard many times when I’ve cried.  Be strong, be strong.  Those words never seemed comforting to me, but I wondered they brought her any comfort for her.  I hope so. 

My next stop was Wal-Mart.  Yes, Brookings Wal-Mart, home of much of angst and ire over rudeness and unfriendliness.  I remembered not to smile and say excuse me.  I will have to work on my manners when I get home.  But my perspective is different.  I didn’t get angry.  From there I went to McDonald’s for a last un-coffee with a friend.  Neither of us drank coffee and I had nothing.

As I walked in the door, a woman, also named Joyce who cleared tables and used to give us free cookies was waiting for a ride.  She greeted me and said: “Are you the one who is leaving?  Are you leaving Brookings?  Why are you leaving?  Don’t you like us?”  I was stunned.  I guess my friend had told her while she was waiting.  Maybe Joyce asked about me.  We hadn’t been to McDonalds for a long time.  Perhaps she missed us.

As I composed myself to answer her, I thought there was a time if I had been truthful I would have said “NO, I hate this place and can’t wait to leave.  Leaving couldn’t come soon enough.”  But I’ve changed.  Something has changed inside of me.  That’s what crucibles do, they mark you, the cause you deep despair, and then they change you.  To Joyce, I replied, we have family.  We have kids and family in Tennessee, we are just going home.  She smiled and said “we’ll miss you.”

I never thought I’d feel this way.  And I certainly never thought I’d admit it, but I will miss South Dakota.

Offended?

I wrote on my other blog, Sounds of Hope about googly eyes.  Through google and other means, I have a pretty good idea of where people come from who read my blog.  I’m always curious.  Lately, Sounds of Hope seems to have a global interest.  Google analytics tells me that every day, at least a few people put my name in a search engine.  I think that scares me.  It makes me wonder.  Yet, I have put myself out here in the cyber world to tell my stories. 

This particular blog has been about my journey to the crucible of South Dakota.  Yesterday, from what I can piece together from comments, google analytics and other tracking, someone from Madison SD found this blog.  The comment they left indicated that they didn’t understand why I wrote the blog.  I evidently hit a nerve.

Madison SD is a rather pleasant college town about 50 miles from here.  The first summer we were here we spent a few hours there.  It was the year of the presidential primaries.  We ran into Bill Clinton who was campaigning on a misty rainy day in that fair city.  We stopped at the local McDonald’s and saw that people use it as a place to play cards as well.  As far as SD towns are concerned, Madison seems nice. 

It was interesting that someone from Madison would just happen to stumble on my blog.  If people from India, China, Russia, the Philippines and even some places I’ve never heard of happen to stumble on Sounds of Hope, I guess it’s not unusual.  I felt bad that they were offended by my ramblings.  I found it interesting in a blog where I was coming to terms with South Dakota in what I thought was a more positive frame of mind would be offensive.  Oh, I know that my blogs have caused some rankle and rage by some of the good folk of South Dakota.  But with perhaps the exception of my ranting about Governor Daugaard, I attempted to let readers know that this was about me – not the state.  Even the first blog I wrote on Storehouses seemed to make that pretty clear – at least I thought so.  It was a person from Madison who first asked me what God had for me in the Storehouses of Snow.  How ironic?!

I responded to this fine person from Madison that I wished I had met them.  They said they smiled and said “God Bless You.”  For those of you who know I have a penchant for sarcasm.  This is not sarcasm.  I appreciate so much the “Sunbeams” I’ve met here in South Dakota.  The sunbeams who didn’t like what I said sometimes but looked beyond that and understood.  And those precious but wonderful few who held my hand, assuring me it would be okay, and helped lead me out of my own misery.  Maybe this person from Madison could have been a friend.  I wonder how many other good people I missed meeting while I was here.  I could have used more friends but God gave me enough.  The ones He gave me will forever be in my heart.  

It’s almost over.  This sojourn to what for me has been a crucible is over.  I mentioned Kathleen Norris when I started this blog.  She’s not popular with a lot of South Dakotans either.  I think she probably is just as misunderstood as I am.  But that’s okay.  I’m in good company. 

To the fine folk of South Dakota, especially my new accidental reader(s) in Madison, I wish you well.  This blog will continue until the last piece of furniture is out of the state.  Until then, keep reading as I process these last few days in the Storehouse of Snow.

Thank You South Dakota

Someone asked me why I thought God had brought us to South Dakota.  That’s a very good question.  One I’ve been struggling with for three years.  I did have an answer for her.  It was to get to know my husband. 

Okay, I know we’ve been married for 33 years.  You’d think I’d know him pretty well.  And I do.  I tell him that I have a PhD in him.  I study him.  I know his habits.  When he’s in the bathroom in the morning if I listen for ten seconds, I know exactly how much longer it will be before he’s done.  I know his favorite foods. I know how he likes his eggs.  I know his likes and dislikes.  I know his sizes.  There isn’t much I didn’t know about my husband, even before we came to the land of snow and ice.

So why did I have to come here to know my husband that I didn’t know.  When the call came for us to come to South Dakota we were celebrating our anniversary at a beach in Florida.  We’d been married for 30 years.  I don’t often get my husband to go to Florida nor does he love the beach as I do.  It had the potential to be such a perfect day.  We were there for five days.  Usually our anniversary trips are overnight, if that. 

Birds at Coco Beach

Picture I took as we left the beach that evening

It was an omen of things to come.  I said to him, do you realize this is the longest we’ve ever been alone, just the two of us?  He married a ready-made family of 4, my three children and me.  In a little over a year of the “I do” our first child came, then another, and another, and another and another.  Organized and disorganized chaos was the manner of our lives.  Kids, careers, life – always busy.  Somehow we managed to stay together in spite of some very serious challenges.  Sometimes our love continued through all manner of disappointments, discouragement, and despair.  We survived illness, death, and poverty.  Trust me, I’m not being dramatic either.  We went through hell and back quite a few times. 

For the last three years, it’s been him and I, alone.  Those five days that seems so unique are now our way of life.  At times, we came close to not making it.  The pressures of job and snow almost shattered our lives.  I sunk into a deep depression.  He fought battles at work.  We learned that without each other, we couldn’t stand the pressure.  We learned how to hang on to each other.  In the process, I fell more deeply in love with my husband than I ever dreamed possible.  Why?  Because I’ve seen his character.  I’ve learned he is a man who can be faithful.  I’ve learned to put the issues of the past, in the past.  I’ve learned to forgive.  I’ve learned that he loves me.

I’m watching him sadly begin to disconnect from his dream job.  I’m watching him bring home personal remnants from his office.  I see his sad face as people ignore him and marginalize him.  I see how hurt he is by the lack of appreciation from those he cared so deeply for and helped.  I’ve seen a man who truly cared for the people of South Dakota and Extension hang his head as in cannibalistic fashion, they jockey for position.  I hurt for him.

He’s strong.  But I’ve seen his vulnerable side.  I’ve leaned on him.  I am going to be strong, so he can lean on me through this transition.  It’s the least I can do.

Yes, ours is a great love story, and it's not over.  We go back to Tennessee more in love with each other than when we came to South Dakota.  For that, I suppose I will have to say Thank You to South Dakota and it's Storehouse of Snow.

In My Heart There Rings A Melody

If you have read much of my blogging, you know I have a memory and love for old hymns and gospel songs.  Sometimes they just seem to pop into my head like a jukebox of the past.  Some of the things that spin in my mind even Bill Gaither’s Homecoming haven’t done.  Some of them I hear with a Norwegian accent, others I hear with the magnificent sounds of the Salem Gospel Tabernacle choir.  Yet other times I think of Sister Crandall leading the Calvary Tabernacle choir or Sister Parker on the piano.  The other day a song popped into my mind, I searched for it on youtube and found it played on the organ.  That reminded me of a former Pastor, Lon Calloway who could make you love organ music. 

The last two days, two golden oldies have been floating around in my head.  Until I looked up the lyrics I had the two merged in my head.  I hear these songs with a Norwegian accent and picture Doris on the piano, Fran on the organ, Elise on the vibraharp, Bob on the saw, Erik on the trumpet, Ruth on the trombone, and Oscar on the banjo.  Later I would sit with these saints playing an odd little green instrument called a melodica. 

Sounds of my childhood forever etched in my ears memory.  With a thin red hymnal with three gold crosses in my hand, I would sing along. 

These songs floating in my head are happy songs.  For so long, happy songs have been absent from my mental jukebox.  As I have pondered the words of these songs, I realize they are my testimony.  A testimony of how God has worked in my life in the Storehouse of Snow. 

I’d share a youtube video with you, but it seems they are lacking of these two precious old songs.  The first one, “Whosoever Meaneth Me” was written in 1910:

I am happy today, and the sun shines bright,

The clouds have been rolled away;

For the Savior said, whosoever will

May come with Him to stay

All my hopes have been raised, O His Name be praised

His glory has filled my soul;

I’ve been lifted up, and from sin set free,

His blood has made me whole.

Simple words from another time still have meaning.  I am happy today.  I can see the sunshine.  My hope has been raised.  I’ve struggled with demons of depression, sadness, and fear for so long that I thought I’d never see the sunshine bright again.  I thought the clouds would never disappear.  Thank God, they have.  Lest anyone think it is just because I am leaving South Dakota, it isn’t the leaving that has given me hope.  It is the faithfulness of God to make me “whole” or ‘holy.’

Sin isn’t always about what you do.  Sin is often the effects of others who have sinned against us.  This time in the Storehouse has caused me to face and name the sins that have been done against me and experiencing the grace to make me holy and whole.  This is where my hope comes from.  And caused me to merge with those verses above, the chorus to It is Truly Wonderful What the Lord Has Done:

It is truly wonderful what the Lord has done

It is truly wonderful, it is truly wonderful

It is truly wonderful what the Lord has done

Glory to His name

My mental jukebox is playing another song now as I reflect further on my sojourn in the Storehouse – it reminds me that in my heart there is a melody.  It reminds me that Jesus still sweeps across the broken strings and stirs slumbering chords.  Amen.  

Sunbeams

I’ve commented a lot about the people here in the Northern Plains.  I so wish that my experience had been better here.  I also wish occasionally I could have been quieter about my struggle, my observations, and my opinions.  But I haven’t been.  Truth is rarely pure.  What is truth for me is based on my own experiences. 

The first temperature I saw on my computer this morning was minus 13.  It’s minus 13 here in Brookings.  It has climbed to minus 11.  The good news is there isn’t as much wind today.  The better news is that the sun is out.  Sunshine and light just make everything better.  It’s so easy to let the negative overpower the positive.  It is so easy to concentrate on these frigid temperatures, rather than the sun.  I’ve been guilty of that with my assessments of the people of the Northern Plains. 

Overall I’ve found the temperature of the people here pretty cold.  There are times when to say they’re responses to me have left me as shivering as if I went outside today.  I’ve always admitted I had a bad attitude when I first came here, but I did attempt to be friendly.  My attitude was based on personal issues with the decision to come here, not the people.  The attitudes about the people came from experience.  Even my oft harangues about trips to the local Wal-Mart came after my excuse me and smiles were met with sour expressions and glares. 

I’ve neglected to focus on the sun.  There are people I have met here who are some of the nicest I’ve met anywhere.  There are friends here who have so warmed my heart that I will cry when the day comes for me to leave this frigid wilderness.  Parting will be different and sadder when I leave here.  Everywhere else I’ve left, I always knew I’d go back to visit, or live.  Not so here.  When I leave I probably will never return.  Shockingly, that makes me incredibly sad. 

The sunbeams in this wilderness experience are relatively few.  But their warmth and love is exceedingly wonderful.  Perhaps you need the frigid to enjoy the warm just as you need sorrow and pain to full experience joy.  I would attempt to name you, my sunbeams of warmth, but you know who you are.  I hope you know how much your warmth means to me. 

It sounds corny, but perhaps we should join in a chorus of:

Cornyness and over sentimentality aside, there are some of you who really have been sunshine for me.  I may not hold you in my arms, but you will forever be in my heart.

Core Values

Just when I thought I was beginning to get South Dakota, just a little bit, I am reminded how much I don’t get it here.  It’s been snowing for a couple for a couple of days.  It’s also snowing in Nashville.  Now to people up here, I realize it sounds ridiculous that with just the forecast of snow, they closed many of the schools last night.  I understand that Atlanta is under a state of emergency this morning because they had 6 inches of snow. 

Its fine and dandy to say that the south has no plows and therefore needs more time to get the snow cleaned up.  That’s true.  They don’t have that many plows.  However, at least in TN they were out with the brine on the road and had the salt trucks ready to go. 

Remember that heavy dump of snow in the Northeast?  They got more in the last few days in Connecticut.  I used to love those major snows in Connecticut.  I even had a job where I made decisions about closings when I lived there.  Everything would stop for a few hours, maybe a day when the snow fell in Connecticut.  The big difference there was they had enough plows and actually used them expeditiously. 

I-90 the major east - west interstate through South Dakota

I-29 the major north-south interstate through South Dakota

I’m no stranger to snow.  Someone was shocked yesterday that I used pretty and snow in the same sentence.  I’ve used that language before, they just never heard it.  Why?  Because I just don’t get it here.  I don’t get why if they aren’t going to buy and use plows to actually clean the roads when it snows, why they don’t at least close things so people can stay safe.  They do neither.

In an attempt to understand South Dakota better I decided to listen to governor of South Dakota Dennis Duagaard’s inauguration speech.  It wasn’t a bad speech.  You can hear it here.  He kept it fairly short and to the point.  He talked about South Dakotans core values.  They were self-reliance, persistence, and frugality. 

Governor Duagaard did help me understand.  He talked about how the settlers who came to South Dakota were self-reliant.  He also said the natives before them were also self-reliant.  I think he was wrong.  I’m not native nor do I think I know that much about native culture.  However, I think community is important in native culture.  He went on to talk about not being dependent.  I guess that’s part of the reason why the state feels no responsibility to clear the roads in a timely fashion or close the schools.  It is up to you to be safe.  It is up to you to be able to afford a 4-wheel drive.  If you can’t afford one, and you die on the road, that’s your problem-self-reliance.  After all it was your fault if you do. 

Duagaard talked about helping someone who has fallen but if they don’t get up right away and work themselves, you should leave they lie there.  What about the old, what about children, what about people with emotional or physical disabilities?  Using the word MUST he proclaimed that South Dakota must be self-reliant.  Thank you very much Governor Duagaard, I prefer to rely on God.  Relying on myself usually gets me in trouble.  Quoting Calvin Coolidge he talked about persistence.  Then he moved on to frugality.  

Everyone chuckled as he told a story of someone who publically embarrassed some people from California saying welcome to South Dakota a state that pays its bills.  I am sure they felt a warm friendly welcome here.

No I don’t get it.  I guess I never will.  The Bible talks about caring for one another without reservation.  In all the encounters Jesus had with people in need, He never told one of them to work harder or get a job to solve their problems.  He just gave them what they needed.  Jesus fed hungry people without a means test.  

We are called as the people of God to be in community, to be one body.  We are called to sacrifice for each other just as Christ sacrificed for us.  Scripture principles call for interconnectedness and mutual dependence.  It calls for generosity, not frugality and withholding from those in need.  1 Corinthians 12 cautions us not to tell the weaker part of the body that we have no need for it.  In fact, we give it special treatment.

It is still snowing.  People will end up in ditches, some will die, others will slip and fall on the ice breaking bones.  I guess that they just weren't self-reliant enough.  I guess it’s better to save a penny then save a life. 

I know this blog will not endear me any further to some people.  I am sorry about that.  Really I am.  I would prefer you liked me.  But it’s just the way I see it.  My core values and South Dakota’s core values as declared by the Governor just don’t match.  My core values are caring about people without reservation and generosity.  What about you? What are your core values?  Snowy days are a good time to think about such things.

DISCLAIMER: Before I get in too much trouble with my blog, these views are MY OWN and do not reflect that of any other member of my family.

I'm Limping

South Dakota and I have been 

wrestling as Jacob wrestled at Peniel.  

it does look a bit like parts of South Dakota, doesn't it?

Do you know the story?  You probably have heard parts of it or think you know it.  It is but a few verses in Genesis 32, it reads:

24 Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. 25When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob's hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him. 26 Then he said, "Let me go, for the day is breaking." But Jacob said, "I will not let you go, unless you bless me." 27 So he said to him, "What is your name?" And he said, "Jacob." 28 Then the man said, "You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed." 29 Then Jacob asked him, "Please tell me your name." But he said, "Why is it that you ask my name?" And there he blessed him. 30 So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, "For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved."

Maybe it sounds dramatic to you that I compare my time here in South Dakota to this story in Genesis.  Without knowing the depths of despair I have felt, the aloneness, the fear – you would be right.  Jacob was afraid of his brother.  He was facing an uncertain future.  He was removed (in his case by his own wishes) from his family and all things familiar.

 

I think Jacob faced himself that night.  I think he dealt with all sorts of memories and life issues.  Whatever or whoever it was that appeared to Jacob, this experience changed Jacob forever.  Wrestling with self is wrestling with God.  It’s asking those tough questions.  It’s asking the why and facing painful truth that causes you to look at yourself in truth.

 

I think South Dakota has caused me to limp.  I know South Dakota has blessed me.  Yes, I really did say that.  In the midst of all my complaining and whining that was really the expression of pain, I’ve been changed and therefore, I have been blessed.  I’ve called South Dakota a crucible.  It has been.  Yet, it has changed me in ways I am sure I still don’t realize.

I tried so hard not to connect and yet I cried in desperation for connection.  The harsh winds of disappointment seemed unrelenting over the last three years.  The coldness of aloneness left me paralyzed.  I’ve honestly thought I would die as the cold and winds continued.  Springs were far too short.  Summer brought confusion rather than relief.  Fall came quickly and winter seemed never ending.

 

I’m better though.  I’ve wrestled with South Dakota and we both won.  South Dakota changed me.  Changed me forever and for better.  I’ve wrestled with myself.  I’ve seen once again that God knows best, and will bring me through the harshness of life.  My life has been preserved.  I’m ready for the future in a way I haven’t been in a very, very long time.  I’m actually thankful for this limp, for it means I’ve survived the crucible of encounter with the face of the Lord.

I CAN CHOOSE

I’m in an odd mood today. I’m not sure it is a good mood or bad mood.  It is probably neither, it just is odd.  I had an odd dream about people I used to know in CT.  He was a leader at the Senior and Disabled Center in Newington and she was British.  She was the first one to suggest my youngest daughter’s name.  I knew the name, but she was the one who suggested it for the child I was carrying.  I could recall her name but couldn’t his.  Finally, it came.  However, their last name still escapes me.

It started me thinking about the past.  I am thinking about loss.  I was thinking about people I’ve known who still matter to me but who have gotten so busy that they’ve forgotten me.  It seems that the human plight is to forget.  We forget so quickly people who loved us, worked hard for us, cared for us and prayed for us.  People like a former pastor.  Or friend who I gave my heart and soul to that never bother to answer an email or keep in touch.  I guess that’s the way life is – people move on.  I told my grandson the other night that friends come and go and occasionally, if you are lucky, you’ll find a lifelong friend.  It is family that usually will be there for you.

However, that’s not completely true either.  I have two brothers.  When we had our last angry parting, one of the brothers said something like this: “I don’t think we want to be the type of people that down the road say I once had a sibling but I don’t know anything about them.”  I said I didn’t care.  I still don’t really care.  It’s just I am still hurt and angry about how they treated me.  I still want to scream at them.  This Christmas as money was so tight with food and presents scant I thought how the chain goes back to their greediness for money that didn’t belong to them.  I thought of the terrible things they did to my mother and to me. I thought of lying to my mother that they cared and their presence was there. But there is nothing I can do about it.

But we never were destined to be close.  I came when they were half grown.  They moved on in their lives and never had time for me.  It’s the same with some of my own children.  The eldest ones hardly know the younger ones.  I hope and pray that they do always remember that they are their siblings and treat them right though.

I guess I’m feeling sad about losses today.  There have been a lot of them.  My life has been turned upside down and rearranged so many times.  There have been too many moves and no opportunity to have roots.  There have been too many friends that I have loved that have forgotten me-too many family members who forget.  A career that fell on the rocks because of evil vindictive people and so many missed opportunities – they do take their toll.

Yet, I have hope for the future.  I’ve lost all hope at times.  I know the depths of despair and depression.  I know how it feels to be cast-off and abandoned.  But I’ve learned to stop.  To stop and reflect rather than react so you can choose.  I still need a lot of practice in stopping.  In my sadness today I am stopping and saying I can choose.  I am not powerless.  I can choose.  I can choose to believe the truth.  I can choose to have hope. 

Tennessee Christmas

It’s Christmas morning.  Overnight, God took his sifter and dusted the trees and ground with white snow.  It’s pretty.  Snow and Christmas just go together.  Here are some of the views from my windows in Tennessee.

It’s nothing like the snow that falls in South Dakota.  It isn’t like the snow that falls in Connecticut or the snow of my youth in New York City.  Truly South Dakota is a storehouse of snow.

I will probably never know all the reasons God sent me to the storehouse of snow.  I am sure that years from now, I’ll still be pondering this experience, trying to make sense of both its pain and occasional joys.  As hard as I tried, when ultimately we leave and return south, I will miss some people very deeply.

We had a good Christmas.  It could have been very slim.  A “savior” stepped in and saved us.  We were able to shop and have a meal.  Last night it was ziti, sauce, and meatballs, simple food to get us to the main event of reading the Christmas story and opening presents.  Everyone had plenty to eat.  A few cookies, a slice of julekake, a cup of coffee before the fun began.

I guess I like tradition.  When I was a young mother with two small boys, I decided that we needed them.  There was never any doubt that we’d open presents on Christmas Eve.  I am Norwegian.  That’s an absolute.  I wanted my children to hear the Christmas story as part of their festivities.  Every Christmas Eve the tradition is that the youngest child who can read, reads the story.  My youngest daughter is so glad there are some grandchildren around; she had that honor for many years.  This year we deviated, I had my 17 year old grandson read Luke 2:1-20.  I video recorded it.  It is such a testimony to God’s faithfulness.  You can read more about this here.

Sometimes I pray, sometimes I don’t.  That part of the tradition never stuck.  Then the youngest child opens a present.  In turn, youngest to oldest each person gets a chance to open.  Each one waits their turn.  Some people may like mayhem but I always wanted to see the look on each child’s face as they opened their present.  It was like savoring a fine meal.  I can still see my children when they were young as their eyes burst open and the squeals came out. 

Over the last few years, our Christmases have had a hollowness to them.  Too many of the family is missing.  I still have allusions of massive family Christmases.  When the children were little I would imagine all 8 of them home for Christmas.  We’ve swelled to a small tribe of over 20 but we only had eight last night.  But there was joy.  There was a joy in the family I haven’t experienced for a while.  Maybe it’s me.  Maybe the long days and nights in the storehouse of snow have changed me.  I know they have and like Mary, I ponder them in my heart.

I miss my mother.  I sat in the chair she normally sat in at Christmas.  She’d say with each gift, “oh, I don’t deserve this.”  After a box of tea, a new shirt, new pj’s, perhaps some jars of jelly, she’d go off to her room for the night with tears in her eyes.  Yet, I know that she is in heaven with my dad, with her best friend Marguerite who joined her a few months after she got there.  She’s there to hug the child I lost, the grandchild I lost and all the others who have gone.  She’s happy.  She’s very happy.  She’s a peace.  Most of all, she’s seen Jesus.

It’s another Christmas.  In a few days we’ll head back to the storehouses of snow for more lessons.  I’m a better student now.  I’m ready for the snow.  

Holding Your Nose

When I was a kid, most medicines were not flavored.  Like the old Little Rascal’s series where Alfalfa has to take medicine and he puts a clothes pin on his nose, I wished for a clothes pin.  I would occasionally hold my nose.  I remember taking aspirin.  I think you could buy children’s flavored aspirin, good ol’ St. Joseph’s.  I don’t know whether it was because it sounded Catholic and we avoided all things Catholic as a child or if it was that it just cost unnecessary money but we never had it.  Instead my mother would take an aspirin, break it in two and then two again.  The ¼ aspirin would then be crushed between two spoons.  A few drops of water were added along with some sugar.  My mother would come with the spoon saying I needed to drink some sugar water.  It did mask the aspirin taste a little bit.  It was a good day when I finally learned to swallow a pill.

My experience in South Dakota is a bit like taking medicine that tastes bad.  I have always known deep in my soul that God was in control and He had a purpose in sending me to South Dakota.  I don’t much get into discussions of God’s perfect will.  I don’t know if this was “His will.”  I do know that God is with us where ever we go and that He does work all things for our benefit. 

While it is true that I came kicking and screaming up here, I’ve never doubted there was a reason, a purpose to it all.  I’ve experienced a lot of pain in this South Dakota crucible.  You’ve read about it here on these pages.  There will be more pain.  There is always more pain in this life.  Anyone who tells you different is delusional or just not honest.  I am not saying all pain is good either.  But pain tells you something is wrong.  Pain demands you deal with it.

I’ve been dealing with pain I had neglected for the last few years here in this frozen desert.  I have feared for my sanity and my life.  I have cried many tears.  I have asked many questions.  I have come to the brink of despair and even death.  My emotions have been raw.  I experienced another dark night of the soul.  I found that in one’s life you can experience this more than once.  I begged God for relief.  I sought help and prayed even when I couldn’t pray. 

I’ve survived.  I’ve not only survived but I’m better.  Not better in the sense that a flaw has been righted but in the sense that I am a better person.  I have chased demons that have haunted me all my life in this wilderness of snow.  I have slayed a few and learned how to fight the others that still occasionally show their heads.  It’s not been easy.

I’ve learned so many things about myself, Joyce has been uncovered.  Joyce has been found once again.  She is ready to live the rest of her life.  She has hope once again.  The crucible always refines you.  I’ve held my nose and taken my medicine.  There was no spoonful of sugar to help this medicine go down.  But I’ve swallowed the medicine and it has made me whole. 

Are you a senior?

I'm in TN.  It's cold.  Not as cold as the freezer I normally abide in, but nevertheless, it is cold.  My daughter was shivering yesterday as she asked me if it was as cold in South Dakota as it was here.  She of course knew the answer. She's been to South Dakota.  She was there last January and told me that it was the coldest she had ever been.  She hasn't been back since.

I am here because I have class on Saturday.  My last class of the semester will include the first introduction to our Statistics teacher.  I'm dreading that.  I'm dreading that more than the snow that will fly while I am taking that class.  I keep telling myself that I'm reasonably smart and that although math has always been my nemesis, I can do this.  I have panic attacks at the sight of an equation that includes a square root symbol, an x or a y.  I have glaze over every time we talk of research methods in class.  I think it's going to be a long hard winter, in more ways than one.

Hopefully the winter in Tennessee will be mild and I will find a reprieve from the weather here often.  I may have to be here for the month of February as I have two classes that month. And it's a short month!  Maybe I'll have more experiences like the one I had last night.

Rather than tell you again about my experiences in the grocery store or at Wal-Mart in South Dakota, let me tell you about the experience at Publix last night.  For those of you not familiar with southern grocery chains, here we have several.  One is Publix which is probably my favorite although a bit more expensive.  We also have Kroger and Harris Teeter.  Nashville is fully blessed to have Trader Joe's and Whole Foods as well.  I used to think shopping at Whole Foods was too expensive, that was until I went to Pomegranates in Sioux Falls the other day. YIKES!!!

I didn't want to go to the store.  I was tired.  I had things on my mind.  But we needed a few things and needed to eat at home instead of out.  I picked up eggs and veggies and bread.  Standard fare.  I was turning an aisle by the frozen food and it happened.  While it wasn't a near collision, it was close.  This very pleasant woman pushing her "buggy" (a southern term for a grocery cart - a term I refuse to make part of my vocabulary).  She smiled!  She smiled so nicely.  I smiled back.  We went on about our business.  I called my husband at home and said you'll never guess what happened.  This woman and I had a brief exchange of pleasantness in Publix.  It was such a big deal to me that I had to share it.  Just like I'm sharing it with you.

I got to the check out.  The young man, looked like he was still in High School had evidently been taught manners.  He asked the standard, did you find everything you needed?  I said yes, thank you.  He said EXCELLENT! and smiled.  He went on to ask me how my day had been.  This was 9:30 p.m.  He must have been up at 6 a.m. to get to school on time.  He'd no doubt dealt with the hassles and stress of High School algebra - yes, I'm thinking about math again.  Nothing could be more stressful than Algebra - you know I managed to even get out of taking College Algebra but there's no getting out of statistics.

Back to the grocery store --- as he made a little bit of small talk with me - not a lot, just enough to let me know that he saw me as a human being, I thought how different is this?  Then he asked the question that no one wants to hear.  He said, are you eligible for our senior discount?  They give a senior discount on Wednesdays.  I said how old do you have to be?  He told me.  I sighed a sigh of relieve and said, no I'm not,.  He gave it to me anyway and I saved 5% on the order.  Maybe it won't be so bad and I'll get used to just saying yes, I am eligible.  I have put in the years after all.

What was strange about the whole thing was that I wasn't the least bit offended or upset at the question.  The kid was so nice and polite.  He was right, I am close to that age.

As I left the store, I clicked on the radio to listen to Dr. Asa On Call.  There was this man calling about his wife.  It was the sweetest thing I'd heard in a long time.  A gruff but very southern sounding truck driver was calling about his 47 year old wife who was fainting.  He said it scared the crap out of him.  He said he was "fixin" to do something and she just falls over.  He used every colloquial southern phrase and it was delightful. What was most delightful was his concern for his wife.  In it's own way, it was another southern experience of care and concern.  It warmed my heart to know that a Bubba can really show a soft side

So is this just another rambling of Joyce about the wonders of Tennessee compared to my angst about living in South Dakota?  No, I have a point here.  It's Christmas time.  It is a time where the difference between pleasantness and politeness verses rudeness and refinement can make all the difference in your day.  I am going to remember MY manners even when people don't show any and make my own happiness and pleasantness the next time I meander the aisles of the Brookings HyVee or the Brookings Wal-Mart.  Maybe you should do the same.  We'd all be happier for it.

Smile Sweetie

I live a lot of my life on Facebook.  I suppose that sounds very sad.  And it is.  However, it is how I've kept connections and sanity during the long stint in South Dakota.  People still don't understand how incredibly hard the adjustment (or in my case lack of adjustment) to SD has been.  I've said repeatedly it's not just the weather.  I understand that even some of the locals don't like bad weather.

Last week a Facebook acquaintance from South Dakota made a comment about hating the winter weather.  She's more a friend of a friend, but I've met her a few times.  She's a very overly positive person.  Those people are nice and it works for them.  But sometimes the drippy everything is perfect, make lemonade out of lemons type of people get on my nerves.  I had a friend in Connecticut who was like that too.  We are no longer friends and it is largely because she found my realism too much for her Pollyannistic view of life.  I do miss her though.

After this acquaintance commented on the weather, I made this comment:

When I say that, people get mad at me.

She replied:

I'm only talking about the weather, not the location or the people

Unable to leave it alone, I said:

It doesn't matter what I say - I can just say it's cold or icy and

 people jump down my throat, but oh, I guess that's the people, my bad...

Zing!!! Zingers.... It was obvious she didn't care for me.  It was obvious that she, like a few others in South Dakota feel the need to defend their fair state and its people. 

I wish they could have been with me this week in Tennessee.  While I will confess that the rudeness of Wal-Mart employees can be universal.  I ran into a few of them at Cheatham County's Wal-Mart.  Overall, I was once again amazed at the difference in people.  

Thanksgiving morning, unprepared for the feast, I went to Kroger to correct that situation.  My cart (buggy in the South) was getting full.  No one cut in front of me with their cart.  Those occasional potential corner collisions were met with a smile and an Oh Excuse Me from both us.  When I say oh, excuse me in Brookings, it is usually met with a glare rather than a smile.  

In the parking lot, a young man stood by my car waiting to take my cart, along with his, to it's waiting place in the parking lot.  He didn't work there.  He didn't have to do that.  He said to me, "May I take that Ma'am?"  I said, Oh Thank You - he said have a Happy Thanksgiving Ma'am.  

Then yesterday we made our last ritual stop in Tennessee.  We always stop at the Sudden Service gas station in Pleasant View, TN.  They have a Wendy's, a convenience store and best of all a Dunkin Donuts. One last cup of coffee for the road, and donuts to munch on as we travel.  Heavenly.  My husband paid for our gas purchase.  The young woman behind the counter called him "sweetie" - "Thanks Sweetie."  He is old enough to be her father, and I know it is just habit with her, but it still sounded nice.  

We purchased a few things at Wendy's.  There we heard, have a good day Hun... I guess there is something about cowboy boots and buckles that prevent that kind of endearments?  As I ate my spicy chicken nuggets I heard another woman at the register say to her customer, Ya'all have a blessed day.  You too replied the customer... Ahhh, I hated to leave the south.

Finally, we got our coffee to go.  And of course the sour cream donuts I love so much.  The young woman behind the counter was all smiles.  Her register wasn't working.  She had to go to the back for everything she did... She still smiled.  She went out of her way to be pleasant.  She greeted a regular by name but never missed a beat or a smile in her interactions with me. 

That was a nice way for Tennessee to say good bye to me yesterday.  Soon it will welcome me back home again.  Until then, I'll try to remember not to smile in Brookings and to forget my manners or say excuse me.  I've adjusted.  It is the people.  They are different.  I suppose they aren't bad.  They like each other.  Maybe they even remember to say please and thank you and excuse me among themselves... but they just don't smile.  

Faithfulness is more important than happiness

I wonder how many times I have gone through this feeling of dread in the last two and half years.  Has it only been that long?  Two and a half years?   As I count on my fingers, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November…. Yes, it’s actually been two years and eight months since I first saw Brookings SD.  But who’s counting J 

I’ve written before of my husband’s elation and my sorrow when he first was summoned to work for the people of South Dakota.  I am often chastised because of my comments about the people of South Dakota.  I suppose I view them through my own lens and since I do, I see them differently than someone who finds the Dakotas home.  Some people feel the same way about my beloved Brooklyn.

Today I am heading north again.  I wish this were the last time.  I don’t know when the last time will be, it is just a reality of life now.  I am reminded of the words of my professor, “It’s not for forever but it is for now.”  It just is.  It is how my life is lived at this present moment in time.  I live like a yo-yo on a string being pulled here and there seemingly against my will.

Yet, it is my choice.  I could stay in Tennessee.  I’ve always had that choice to stay here.  I have a home here.  I have children here.  And in retrospect, the correct decision would have been to stay here.  It is my husband who is bound to the people of South Dakota, not me.  Yet, I am bound to him in this love relationship of 32 years.  Over and over, every time I get in that car to head north I am saying “I do…for better or worse.” 

I want to stay here.  I can’t describe to you how I feel when I come home.  I am sure you know the feeling of coming home.  But this is different.  There is a lightness and a contentment that comes over me that is hard to describe.  Today I have the opposite of that feeling.  Today I feel the dread and angst of not just two days of being in a small car, but of returning to a place that is not home.

Like the marines, there are a few good people in South Dakota.  I’ve met some of them.  There is the professor at the seminary who I’ve only met briefly in person who still cheers me on and encourages me.  What a gift!  There are the beautiful friends I’ve made at Grandview Covenant Church.  They are true gems.  I have been so blessed to know them.  I feel the same sadness of leaving that I feel now when I think of the day I will not see them.  Then there is my un-coffee buddy.  She’s help me cope in ways she can’t imagine.  And my wise woman – the wise woman who has known my darkest secrets and my deepest pain and held my hand as I walked through a maze of despair.

In a couple of hours I’ll get in my tiny 2003 red Chevy Cavalier, what a story I could tell you about that car.  Like me, she’s old but she has been so faithful.  I’m being faithful today too.  I am returning with my husband to South Dakota because it is the right thing to do.  Sometimes I get tired of doing the right thing.  Sometimes I wish I didn’t have this strong moral compass telling me to “do unto others as you would have them do unto you” or telling me to “love unconditionally.”  But I do have this compass, and ultimately I am thankful for it.  I think it is the compass that guided 32 years of marriage. 

Today I’ll renew my vows again.  I will forsake all others and keep myself to my husband.  I will say “I do” not with the giddy joy of a bride, but with the wisdom of an old woman.  A wisdom that tells me that faithfulness is more important than happiness. 

Someday we will say good bye to South Dakota.  Someday I will have one place to live again.  Someday… but that day is not today.

That Four Letter Word S--W

I had a good day yesterday.  That's odd for South Dakota.  Although perhaps it's not as odd as I make it out to be on this blog.  The problem never has been really South Dakota, the problem was always me.  South Dakota does make me crazy.  South Dakota does make me sad.  South Dakota has drug me to the pits of depression. However, it's really not because South Dakota is some how inherently evil.  It just is like oil and vinegar, or any other two elements that can never fully integrate, I am not a good in South Dakota.

It's fine to say that South Dakota can't change for me, to say that it is me who has to change to accommodates it's ways, it's weather, it's idiosyncrasies, it's people.  But I can't.  I've tried. I can however, learn to navigate this hostile terrain safely.

There was a bit of rain yesterday that was a harbinger of the snow to come.  I've been checking weather.com, accuweather.com, weatherbug and the national weather service.  All with the anticipation of the dreaded four letter word, snow.

When I was a kid, I think I loved snow.  I remember building snow forts.  While I pine away with romanticized visions of life in Brooklyn, Brooklyn has changed perhaps even more than I have.  There are but scan few Norwegians left in my old neighborhood.  8th Avenue is a China Town.  The 17 of May parade, still held in Brooklyn, now marches in a different direction on a different Avenue. Salem Gospel Tabernacle is no longer Salem, it is Sunset Park Community church.  There are no string bands or Smörgåsbord or Juletree Fests.  But it still snows in Brooklyn.  Snow seems to be a constant in my life.

I had a conversation about snow today with my husband.  It really wasn't about snow.  It was about me and snow.  I've been doing all this weather checking because I have to head south again for class on Saturday.  I was contemplating do I leave tomorrow or Thursday.  Two days of driving in a little 2003 Chevy Cavalier that like me, is feeling her age.  I've driven in extreme snow many times and survived.  But I'd rather not do it again.

Cows, South Dakota and Snow - all synonymous

Oh I signed on for this so I supposed I shouldn't complain.  But here is where this all comes together.  Snow can be predicted but is always unpredictable.  A slight change can dump more snow or less snow.  Today's snow will not be like tomorrow's snow.  The snow in Brooklyn is a different experience than the snow in Missouri.  The trace snow in Tennessee does not compare to the mountains of snow in Connecticut. And of course nothing is like the powdery whiteout blizzards of South Dakota.

I want predictable.  Oh not that I'm not fun loving and like adventure and new experiences, I do... but when they are done, I want predictable.  I want to know that if I plan to go to Tennessee on this day, that's the day I'll go.  I want to know that if I plan to get up in the morning and do this or that, that by the time the day is over I've done this or that.  I want only occasional changes in my life-not constant the every day something changes patterns of my life here.

Thats the problem here in South Dakota -- besides the cows and the rudeness and all the other things I complain about, the real problem is me.  I want some stability.  I want to know where home is.  I want to not have my life reordered and changed.  Like the rapid changing weather patterns here in this Storehouse of Snow, I find the changes paralyzing and depressing.  If the weather has to change, can it not change so fast? Can I have a warning that it's changing?

My husband's job makes extreme demands on him.  He's become a soldier - no I don't mean he's joined the military, I mean he is a soldier.  He's always ready for the changes and demands. He sets aside his emotions and just does it. He never checks the weather reports.  He never considers whether the weather might change.  He just packs up and goes.  I can't do that - that's why he's adjusted to South Dakota and all the places we've lived so much faster than I have.

Snow is coming - change is coming - and it keeps coming - the cold dark depression of winter is setting in to South Dakota.  I'm not ready for it.  I don't think I will ever be ready for it.  But it will come nonetheless.  I will drive tomorrow, or the next day and go south.  I will have Thanksgiving at "home" - if it is home? in Tennessee.  Then I'll return to the snow and leave again in a few days.  Such is life right now -- constant change impinging on a life that wants stability.

Until then, I guess I need to lace up my boots, button my coat, tie my scarf and navigate through another South Dakota winter.