Where in the World is Mrs. Fallon? 2022

Monday, September 1, 2014

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Then...

now...

God's Not Dead

Here's a picture of Colin's Mimi, Mary giving him a bath. Lots of junk can cloud our Vision!

I didn't take any pictures, but when our son Colin was in a car wreck on his way to work on August 20th, we knew that, if he survived, we would have a lot to be thankful for without the photos as reminders. From the moment the Nebraska State Patrolman and I arrived at the scene until Colin was transferred to the Avera McKennan Hospital and University Health Center in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, it all seemed surreal. Thinking back now, I remember watching the Crofton Rescue workers crawl across his 1984 Buick that looked, to my unsophisticated eye, to be straddling a ravine. They popped the windshield out of its socket, and then passed Colin out through the gaping hole... It's strange to think, but even harder to say as the images continue to replay in my mind. As I watched, I felt like he was being born again, being ushered from death into LIFE. I knew that I was witnessing a miracle, not just in that all of these people came from their lives at the scream of the siren, to save his life, but a realization that Colin's life would never be the same- could never be the same.

The miracles didn't stop there, if anything, they were just ramping up. Amazing doctors and nurses met us at Avera Sacred Heart Hospital in Yankton, South Dakota and without any notice my dear friend and colleague Sister Jane was there, cocooning us in prayer. She thought that she was there for another call, but we were there instead... needing her prayers, her ministry and her love. When they transferred Colin to another hospital in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, I was already in full-throttle mamma bear mode by the time they wheeled him into the Emergency Room there. Wanting to do everything and able to do nothing, I stared astounded as the two nurses who worked diligently on Colin adjusted their name tags...Mary and Joy. What would have been such a small thing to anyone else was everything to me. To me, this was an affirmation that everything was going to be okay. I think I cried then and in prayer turned Colin over to my Blessed Mother, Mary. Not just my Vermont mom Mary or my Massachusetts mother-in-law Mary, both of whom I knew were already knee deep in prayer and supplications, but my heavenly Mother. Later, when Colin was in surgery, I went into the chapel. There was a statue by the altar of The Blessed Mother holding baby Jesus, and my prayer was that She would take Colin in her arms and guide the hands of the surgeons and nurses who were putting his broken parts back together.

     It seems like when we returned to the room after the surgery (or I could be mixing up my times now because it was all a blur) Colin had a new nurse from out of nowhere. In walked a nurse who introduced himself as Gabe. Startled, I asked him, "Gabe? Is that short for something?"
     He replied, "Yeh, my name is Gabriel." Hmmmmmm.
     "Like the angel?"
     He chuckled and said, "That's funny... the lady next door just asked the same thing. Yeh, like the angel." Game. Set. Match.
   Ya know, I could give you a long list of really bad things that have happened as a result of Colin's accident, but the bottom line is that he is alive. He lives to fight another day and will hopefully heal in all of the right places. Our friends and family around the world have lifted him up in prayer while, I know in their own lives, they are suffering with their own sagas. All I'm saying is that God is present. He is present in the miracles. He is present in the tragedies. Life goes on. It's kinda like walking on water... I believe only the fear and doubt drag us under. God's not dead and Colin's not either...thanks be to our God!

"Jesus is more than a great teacher; he is our salvation. He is not just an idea; he is a person. Jesus himself is the very foundation of our faith" (Word Among Us, September 1, 2014).

Monday, August 11, 2014

Yankton, South Dakota

(from The Mount Marty College website)

Mount Marty College

"It's the most wonderful time of the year" is both an old Christmas carol we all know and a song that I am often found singing this time of year as I skip through the halls of Cedar Catholic. Indeed, it is a wonderful time... The new school year doesn't loom- it winks, it promises and it encourages me to dream again. As students are out shopping for school supplies, we teachers on the North (a.k.a the Wild) side are moving back into our classrooms, unpacking boxes and revisioning our learning environments- our classroom communities where we live, grow and dream. To help in the process, our faculty and staff have the opportunity to bond together while on a retreat. Today was that day at Mount Marty College in Yankton, South Dakota. We pray. We discern. We share. As teachers, we dream and we brainstorm ways to authentically love, serve, teach and inspire our students, their families and each other. We block out the noise from our lives and come together to whisper as Samuel did, "Speak, for your servant is listening" (1 Samuel 3:10).

Happy New Year!

eek! (from cedarcatholic.org)

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Olean, New York

CUTCO KA-BAR

Visitors' Center... Who Knew?

For as many times as I have driven cross country over the past nine years, how have I never seen the CUTCO Visitor's Center advertised before? It's been two years since CUTCO came into our lives through our son, Colin, and I have to admit I got a little excited when I saw the brochures as I was traversing the great state of New York! CUTCO's website (http://www.cutco.com/company/visitorsCenter.jsp) explains everything inquiring minds would ever want to know about this company and probably even more! The Visitors' Center boasts a store, museum and free sharpening and repair. That's worth the price of admission right there, which happens to be free by the way. Now, I know that won't necessarily help all of Colin's faithful customers who have cut themselves during their culinary pursuits with this outstanding, American-made cutlery, but I couldn't help but share this REMARKABLE information! Go CUTCO!

Friday, August 1, 2014

Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center, Lebanon, New Hampshire

Mom

It's almost like God prepares me for stuff.

When my dear cousin Asa had a stroke at 42 years of age, even though he was on the other side of the world, I felt like I went through it with him. He taught me about many things including the warning signs of a stroke, the various stages of recovery and how humor is essential to life and healing. So when I sat down to lunch with my mom on a warm Tuesday in June and her words were jumbled and slurring, I knew something was wrong. She complained that her arm was numb, but having just gotten out of bed, maybe she had leaned on it wrong as she was saying her rosary? Someone once said that "the eyes are the window to the soul", but honestly when she started to speak- it was her voice, her speech that illuminated the problem. All that followed was a blur of medical people, tests and a lot of prayers until after she was admitted, two hospitals later, at Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center in Lebanon, New Hampshire.

That night from the chair bed next to my mom, I watched her face register all of the emotions she seemed to be feeling… even as she slept. The irony of the situation didn't escape me. I watched the doctors and nurses come and go. They would be the ones to help my mom find her voice again. And I watched… helpless. Even though, I spend a good portion of my year in Nebraska coaching speech and I pray- helping students to discover their individual voices, never could I imagine that my mom’s voice, her speech could be damaged by anything, let alone something that they were calling a “mini” stroke. She has been so strong for so long… 14 years on dialysis… every Monday, Wednesday and Friday for 3 ½ hours a day, she has fought to stay alive. As in Hebrews 12:1, she has “run with perseverance the race marked out for…” her, but that racecourse keeps twisting and turning and sometimes, oftentimes, it is scary and disheartening to watch. But then (using the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont vernacular) I am forced to remember whom I am dealing with.

When I moved Mom back home to her home three days short days later, I stumbled upon a scrapbook I had assembled for my Mom and Dad’s 40^th anniversary back in 1995. Anyway, I had written to all of their dear friends and family asking them to write down their favorite stories about my Mom and Dad, and then I compiled this and presented it to them. In this book, I found an old and yellowing letter dated 12/21/94 that I had addressed to my parents for this very occasion, but I began to realize what it had to teach me 20 years later...

Dear Mom and Dad,

I saw a six year old girl walking down the street today; she was crying as she tried to carry two big bags of empty beer bottles to the corner market. I stopped to help, but of course the situation was truly beyond what I could fix. I drove her to the market, carried the bags inside and then was instructed to leave her behind. My tears choked out of my eyes onto my cheeks, as I climbed down those market stairs and got into my car. I could not breathe.

In the midst of my tears today, I found deep, deep joy in thinking back to growing up in St. Johnsbury. I remember walking through our neighborhood and town with a strong sense of security. I remember my first trip alone across Portland Street bridge; certainly, I was much older than six. By the time I reached Hovey’s, I was breathless with the thrill of freedom. I walked, oblivious to any evil. I remember thinking that being half Letourneau and half Kenney was the absolute best, most powerful thing to be. I remember feeling very independent, but now I realize that the feeling of independence came from a very strong dependence on you. I had walked that bridge a million times before with you and Tina, Pattie and Wayne. I knew you were back home waiting, perhaps breathless for my return.

Now as I look at our two sons, I think that is exactly what I want for them. They say, “Hold me, Mommy,” and I hold them hoping that I don’t smother them. I want to give them space to grow, be independent and strong, but at the same time I want to shelter them from, while not blinding them to, the evil that can be a part of life. I want them both to be independent people, self confident because of the loving dependency we all share, not isolated or angry, lost souls. I want them to recognize suffering in the world and do what they can to ease it, without succumbing to it. I want them to look back on their childhood and feel that being half Letourneau and half Fallon is the absolute best, most powerful thing to be.

Love, PJ

I had forgotten about that experience. I had forgotten about that scrapbook, but I found it just when I needed it the most. It was then that I realized that being half Kenney and half Thomas made my mom just about the strongest person I have ever known.

Stroke Signs:

	Face Drooping
	Arm Weakness
	Speech Difficulty
	Time to call 911

Additional signs of a stroke may include:

Sudden numbness or weakness of the face, arm or leg, especially on one side of the body
Sudden confusion, trouble speaking or understanding
Sudden trouble seeing in one or both eyes
Sudden trouble walking, dizziness, lack of balance or coordination
Sudden severe headache with no known cause (source: http://www.strokeassociation.org)

Monday, May 26, 2014

Chicago- National Catholic Foresenics League Grand National Tournament

Harvest Time

As I have driven around Northeast Nebraska this week, I have been inspired by nature’s beauty and the warm weather that feels like summer is finally arriving. I see farmers in their fields preparing to sow their seeds, planting their crops by doing whatever it is they do to unleash their seeds’ inner code to grow and produce abundantly. The fields begin to awaken and the irony is not lost on me as we finish the last days of school for the year, my Seniors cross the stage to bloom into their futures that await, our sons come home from college and three brave juniors with laptops and an extemp bin climb into a SUV and journey with me across the prairie to the National Catholic Forensics’ League Grand National Tournament in Chicago. For us, it’s harvest time.

For the past week and a half while the rest of the Hartington students started their summer vacations and the building renovation crews moved in, three of our speech team members were hold up in the 3^rd floor computer lab for 8 hours a day reading, researching and expanding their knowledge (and extemp files); writing, presenting and critiquing speeches, while debating economic and foreign policies. I learned so much. We explored these issues in relation to the tenets of our Faith, the education they are consumers of on a daily basis and why all of this matters to them and the judges they would meet in Chicago. It felt like Harvest time. We had worked all year to help them find and refine their voices, while discerning where their roads might lead them. Most of the time, I just listen in amazement. In my most revolutionary moments, I am not sure the schools we need to construct or renovate have to do with walls or trophies, but rather ideas and attitudes. Sometimes I think if I could give my students a set of extemp questions and a weekend in Chicago, their education, voice and vocation would emerge. As our extempers go out into the world to fight for justice, serve others and make meaning, they...

are like superheroes… in suits… minus the capes.

Saturday, November 30, 2013

At the Front Lines of the Revolution...

in the Classroom...

Chapter 1

When I came home from school the other day, I told my husband of 25 years that I had the best day ever in my 26 years of teaching. Here's why- this is kind of like a confession...

My seniors are finishing A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, and even though, as a teacher, I know and understand what makes it a classic, sometimes I struggle to convey that information to those smart, beautiful people surrounding me each day... I always want the curricular activities I use to be authentic and rigorous at the same time, but every now and then the forces of the universe converge to give me, and those students, something greater than I ever could have planned. God is like that, ya know...

Chapter 2

Anyway, I became aware (ahem) of a Facebook page entitled "Cedar Catholic Confessions." I read it and felt sick at what I saw. I was assured by our Principal that he and our President were already aware of it and had asked Facebook to take it down. They were waiting to hear. As our President, Father Loseke had written in that week's bulletin, "... Due to the anonymous nature of the sites, anyone, whether or not they have any connection to the school, can submit a post and say anything, true or false, he or she may want. Because of this, some of our students at Cedar Catholic were mentioned by name and were subjected to sexually harassing comments. Other individuals had posted raunchy and explicit comments" (http://www.holytrinityhartington.com/bulletin11-10-13.pdf).

Chapter 3

It was disturbing. I didn't want to interfere [yeah, right ;) ] with the investigation, so I made several obtuse and veiled "observations and comments" to my students warning them not to have anything to do with inappropriate or even scandalous affiliations that might be out there, especially during this time of year. Advent, you say? True, I say, but I was thinking National-Honor-Society-recommendations-time, actually. "Think about the short and long term consequences for your actions and what messages you send out into the world on social media, for example," I offered. In my mind I accused, "Heads WILL roll, baby!" (Cue in Madame DeFarge knitting because I was already losing my head over this situation...) Luckily, the Lord had BETTER plans.

Chapter 4

     (Forgive me, Father (Loseke), for taking literary license with what happened next for dramatic effect and literary emphasis. I confess it now to you and to any reader, but, it is essential to understand and feel, the power and poise with which you spoke.)

     When Father walked in front of the altar on Friday morning, no one said a word. Some students exchanged glances with eyes pulsing for exaggerated effect. Everyone just knew that a storm was brewing, but none of us knew exactly what this tempest might look like. I expected anger and ranting because of the shock I felt after reading those "confessions." Instead the battle cry built over the next several minutes while Father spoke and crescendoed toward revolution. Much like his bulletin plea, he explained" ...we at Cedar Catholic petitioned Facebook to take down the demeaning site, but they refused our request due to the protection of free speech rights in America and their own polices at Facebook. Nevertheless, we decided that we would not allow our students and our school to be maligned or harassed any longer. Originally, keeping in mind our Safe Environment policies, we cautioned people to avoid the page because of the sexually explicit nature of some of the posts. However, we decided to try to beat the creator of these sites at his or her own game through our own right to free speech. On Friday, I asked anyone and everyone with a Facebook account who is a student, parent, alumnus, or friend of Cedar Catholic to visit the Cedar Catholic Confessions page during the noon hour, to 'like' it, and to post at least five positive, upbuilding, and complimentary comments about Cedar Catholic. Our goal: to flood their wall with so many good and positive messages all at once about Cedar Catholic that anything wicked would be buried under the sheer amount of goodness...As you do, please do not submit anything negative about the site or the site's administrator. We want to keep it totally and completely good.
     (Pastor’s Note: I am writing this article Friday morning... so I hope that by the time you read this bulletin article, we will already see the effect of our social media revolution to take back our good names.) As Christians, we firmly believe that evil, which lurks in the shadows and in the darkness, cannot survive when it is dragged out into the light... We can never forget that we are the light of the world. In the name of Christ, we must let His light where it is absent! This past week’s experience taught us that sometimes one cannot fight evil and wickedness with power. Rather, we are reminded that sin and evil are always defeated by goodness, love, respect, and virtue. Thanks to all who helped, and who will continue to help, keep our kids and our schools safe from evil" (http://www.holytrinityhartington.com/bulletin11-10-13.pdf). THIS WAS WAR! or was it?

Chapter 5

I chastised my lame self the entire way back into the classroom for, after reading and "absorbing" the themes from A Tale of Two Cities a dozen times or more, I had never apparently synthesized them into my being. After going all "Madame DeFarge" before Mass, I returned to my classroom, a more humble, contrite revolutionary. Nevertheless, I marched to the front of the classroom , fired up the laptop and blasted the Beatles', "Revolution" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tH9zG28GQEg). My seniors and I discussed the nature of revolutions as depicted in the song, in the book and in our lives that morning in Hartington, Nebraska. Synchronicity. In my mind's soundtrack, it was actually the music from "Do You Hear the People Sing?" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PTLwzuQuRsw) from Les Miserables that pounded in my brain as we made our way to the computer lab.

Chapter 6

There was a light evanescent air in the computer lab as students excitedly shared and volleyed ideas around for their part in this war of words. They logged onto Facebook (eek) and read the other comments by the parents, students and alumni as I heard them laugh and say, "I know... I love that about our school!" The room was abuzz with everything that we LOVED about our school, and they searched their hearts for ways to say it best. They were PROUD to defend HER. There were PROUD to defend US. The students, members of the Cedar Catholic family, didn't even ignore the most obvious irritations that affect us, or any member of a family, on a daily basis. They took on those bullets too. Maybe this is what confession should really be. Acknowledging, in great love and light, the good and the bad that comprise us all. When the "administrators" of the Confessions' page broke in and editorialized saying something to the effect that they didn't mind the positive, but that the posted comments couldn't be DULL, I knew that LOVE had overpowered the darkness. Light wins.

Epilogue

By 2:30 that afternoon, the Cedar Catholic Confessions' page was down. Objective met..lesson learned... case closed. Peace achieved...Thy kingdom come.