In the Parsonage... Randolph, Nebraska

(fi.edu)

Happy Birthday, Colin!

 =

Throwing caution to the wind?

Adult life is a wild ride, Colin... Pack up those power rangers and hold on tight!

Kindergarten Graduation

 

July 31, 2013

To Colin, on the occasion of your 21^st Birthday,

            On this auspicious day, I wish that I could write like a learned British scholar in order to convey my feelings in a way that would resonate with you for years to come.   Undoubtedly, I will lapse into tired old clichés, but I have to try.  When I heard your voice on the other end of the phone today, I thought that this bad-day experience was actually a perfect segue into adulthood for you.  You, of course, know that we believe you have been an adult since you turned 18-  legally, I guess everyone else thinks that it’s today.  Anyway, when I heard your frustrated voice and listened to your story, all I could think of was the Australian boomerang I gave to you in January.  Colin, adulthood, and life for that matter, is a lot like that boomerang,. 

            Here’s why adulthood and life are a lot like your boomerang.  I know these things because I consulted Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boomerang).  Did you know that a boomerang is a “thrown tool designed to circle back to its thrower”?  Colin, I firmly believe that whatever you throw out at the world, it circles back around and comes after ya.  (Okay, I could be quoting Uncle Ron here, but it is still true!)  Throw love, kindness and compassion whenever possible.  Capiche?  Historically, the boomerang is cut from a tree and so are you.  You have spent countless hours working on our family tree, Colin, so you know that you come from sturdy stock.  We love and support you always and want YOU to reap the fruits of love, Faith and joy.  Just as trees have imperfections, so do we…forgive unconditionally.  To catch a break in life or a propelling boomerang, you have to remain open but on the right path.  Be safe for crying out loud and be aware of your surroundings at all times.  

          According to Wikipedia.org, sometimes boomerangers tune for a flight which involves… 

“The boomerang is then thrown several times to check if it works. The extreme subtleties of the aerodynamic forces on the light wooden boomerang make it surprisingly difficult to predict how the finished boomerang will perform. Two apparently identical boomerangs may radically differ in their flight patterns. For example they may climb uncontrollably, they may fall repeatedly into the ground, they may exhibit long narrow pattern non-returning flight, or display other erratic behaviour. The only sure way to know is to flight test them.”

I know that you are doing this now.  You may have to do some sanding as you go.  Just keep tuning.  It’s all tuning really. Throwers HAVE to discern the “wind and launch direction” by facing INTO the wind.  This will make you stronger, Colin;  I suspect it already has.  It’s counterintuitive really, but the more volatile the wind, the softer the boomerang must be thrown.  I’m sorry if I haven’t demonstrated this principle at times;  I think I am just starting to understand this dynamic myself.                

            Well, that’s it, Colin.  That is how this adult/life business is a lot like throwing a boomerang.  (I’d like to tell you it’s really more like our screen door at camp.  You know the one that leads out onto the deck, but there would be a lot of holes in that analogy…)  Happy Birthday, Colin Thomas Fallon.  We love you and remember to go the distance you will have to make adjustments and minimize the DRAG.  No worries! 

Love,

Mom

It probably would have been better just to post this instead...More wisdom... Fewer words

On the Road- Gettysburg

Steve and Noreen Neitz

            I spend a lot of time on the road in the Silver Bullet;  our gray Dodge Caravan takes me a lot of places.  This summer I started thinking that, at 212,000 miles, maybe I should rename it the Silver Dove.  My mission of loving all and serving all brings me many places, but the image of the bullet often references a can of Coors Beer or a shotgun shell, neither representation seems to be exactly in sync with the purpose of my travels.   Images are important to me for they often serve as powerful symbols of things much greater than themselves.  So yesterday when my amazing husband took the first five hour driving shift after leaving the hotel outside of Cleveland, Ohio, I picked up my Salvation Army Store (http://www.salvationarmy.org/) find, The Mermaid Chair by Sue Monk Kidd (http://www.suemonkkidd.com/MermaidChair/) and found a quote attributed to Thomas Merton (http://merton.org/), which will remain with me in this way forever. ..”My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.  I do not see the road ahead of me.  I cannot know for certain where it will end.  Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.”  In reflecting on this quote, I am drawn to think of my friend Noreen (http://nneitz.wordpress.com/2011/02/14/what-would-you-say/).

            Throughout this summer, the fourth anniversary of my own Dad’s death, I lost other giants from my childhood, but nothing could have prepared me for the loss of Noreen.  Twelve years ago when our “road” took us to live in Gettysburg, I remember spending a lot of nights over those four years sitting on our neighbors, Steve and Noreen’s back porch.  In hindsight, I think that the Neitz Family sort of adopted us… maybe that was part of their family mission… to live “the Jesuit charisms of ‘finding God in all things’, ‘seeking to help souls’, ‘to do everything for the greater glory of God’… (and) going forth for the sake of ‘the service of faith and the promotion of justice’ in the world” (http://jroselle.blogspot.com).   That was Noreen.  And as I sat nestled in at my beloved and packed St. Francis Xavier Church in Gettysburg, PA (http://www.stfxcc.org/) at her funeral Mass, I heard such loving testimony to all of these precepts in her life.  Steve, surrounded by their inspirational children and extended family, read excerpts from Noreen’s blog throughout the eulogy, and her voice was there with us all through her writing.  I think daughter Sarah said it best when she wrote and Noreen later quoted in her blog (http://nneitz.wordpress.com/2011/02/12/becoming-a-woman-for-octaves/), “I bring to my leadership an understanding of the difference between singing and silence. People need … leadership that supports a joyful and enriching life beyond mere existence. I know that a woman for others must also be a woman for octaves; true leadership gives others a life of song.”  That was Noreen… a woman for octaves.     

            And so it was on July 30^th as they were planting a tree in Gettysburg to honor my dear friend Noreen, I was driving down a highway in Iowa, missing my dear friend Noreen and praying to be fruitfully busy about living while trying to do God’s will in perfect pitch.

At the Phantom Tollbooth... Concord, New Hampshire

Random Acts of Kindness

                It’s kind of humorous when I think about it now, but at the time, I felt defeated.  As I left the nursing home after visiting my father-in-law, I got in the Silver Bullet and headed back to the cabin.  The tears were coursing down my face as the sky opened up and unleashed a terrible storm.  The torrential downpour outside of the car equaled the emotional upheaval inside of me as I headed up the highway.  I talked, prayed, okay… ranted, as I begged my father in heaven to give me the sight to see the road clearly and the insight as to which way to go.  I felt overwhelmed by all that I had to do, and I felt like a failure with what I had tried to accomplish.  I think that my grandmother used to refer to this dynamic as a good ol’-fashioned “pity party.”  So there I was partying my way up 93 North when I saw the signs alerting me to the fact that there was a tollbooth ahead.  I frantically searched my armrest for the coins I would need to pass through this obstruction in my path.  I found pennies.  I found nickels.  I found Australian coins, but no quarters… nothing that would get me through.  Slowing as I approached the barrier, I reached behind the seat blindly searching for my pocketbook.  As I deciphered its presence and swung it onto my lap, I halted the van at the stall.  I rolled down my window, held up my index finger and asked for her indulgence as I began to scan the deep recesses of the purse for my payment.  Its upright and unbending handles poked into my eyeball, and I was once again blinded by the impalement as well as my own stupefying stupidity.  As this absurd scene continued to unfold and the cars began to impatiently line up behind me, I glanced up sheepishly to see the attendant beaming at me from behind a veil of fog, water and pain. 

                “You may pass on through, Ma’am.  The gentleman in front of you paid your way.  Have a great night.”  My mind was a swirling mass of confusion. 

                “Who?”  I queried while she pointed to the anonymous car speeding away ahead of me.  “…but I don’t know him…”  I floundered futilely for the words to express this misunderstanding.

                “Have a wonderful night!” she cheered.  “Congratulations and thank you.” 

                “Thank YOU,” I bawled as I lowered the purse back to the floor of the car, squinting at the metallic dot on the waning horizon and crying even harder now. 

                …And so it was that when I was feeling the most helpless and lost, a selfless, and presumably random, act of kindness came from out of the clouds to give me courage and help me find my way home. 

 

 

 

Plymouth State University

 

Life’s Little Survival Kit

                I have this group of friends, unofficially dubbed the RaRas, who gather at the pond each year.  Some members of the group protest this name for various reasons,  but I’m not sure what else to call them.  Basically, we address all of life’s big questions over the course of a weekend, reminisce about our life as friends-  family really, and then… rah, rah, I am ready to be propelled back into my life in Nebraska.  To think of it in St. Johnsbury terms, the founding home of the Fairbank’s scale, my life is in balance.  On one side of this scale are my mom and our families, our godchildren, and friends and on the other is our mission:  our vocations in Nebraska with our St. John’s family, school, Spokes, Scouts and Speech. 

                Anyway this summer was a momentous one.  One of our kids will be attending Plymouth State University, our alma mater, in the Fall.  Plymouth was the thread that brought and ties all the RaRas together in one way or another and now the next generation (a.k.a Lindsey) would be using it as her metaphorical dock- jumping off into the big wide lake-world as well.  To signify and celebrate this, the RaRas pulled together a Plymouth State survival kit, but it was more challenging than we originally anticipated to take all of the lessons we learned over our four years at Plymouth and boil them down to tangible objects to symbolize the intangible lessons we learned.  Eventually the survival kit emerged:  a lock, a fire extinguisher, silly putty with sound effects, a paint marker for writing in the snow, a winter tuque and a Vermont tee shirt.  The moral to the these objects-  have fun, be safe and never forget where you come from…

                Our prayer, the real survival kit for you, Lindsey, as you journey off to Plymouth is that you not only have the time of your life as you prepare for YOUR  life’s mission, but that 25 and even 50 years later, you will be surrounded by a group of friends (or dragonflies ;) as the case may be) and their families who continue to inspire you to be the best person you can be and who nourish, support and inspire you along the way.  We love you- RaRa, Lindsey!   xoxo