The last dozen years

 

Hey there, Girlfriend.

As you drift off to sleep, one last time, as an eleven-year-old ball of feisty, fiery, fun energy, I sit here, trying to let my brain convince my heart that it's okay to let go of yet another age and move on to the next one.  For some reason, this time, I feel a little less ready to embrace the change.

The next time I see you (unless our cat decides we need a pre-midnight waking) you will be twelve.  It's the last dozen years' milestone in our little family.  It is the last year before you become a teenager and all three of my children are in that age range.  It just doesn't seem possible.  

I need to remind myself not to jump that far ahead yet.  We still have a year, after all.

Norah, watching you grow over this last year has been a wild ride.  You bring me such joy, and I love seeing your personality, independence, intellect, wit, compassion, bravery, and maturity develop.  You are balancing between a kid and a young woman, already.  There are so many times I find myself feeling like you are wise and mature beyond your age.  

Navigating this age is a a rollercoaster, I know.  We have talked many times about how difficult it is to be a girl your age, with emotions, feelings, thoughts and more all feeling so overwhelming and chaotic.  Friendships feel easy and natural one day and strained the next sometimes, and it triggers introspective hours, worry, and tears.  It doesn't usually take long to realize it's all going to be okay, and things fall back into their happy normal place. But it's exhausting.  I know that you will mature and bloom through it all, and you will come through it knowing what really makes you a treasure to your friends, and your friends to you.  There is so much to be learned in the trials of pre-teen years, and I pray that you take it all with grace and humility, and that nothing but beauty comes forth when this part of the journey is through.

I have many prayers for you this year, as I always do. I pray that you continue to find your strength, your bravery, your calm, and your voice.  I pray that you feel successful, and that you know that you know you are smart, capable, and creative.  I pray that you have success not only academically but socially, and that you continue to be a beacon to others and a positive role model to your peers.  I am always so overwhelmed with pride when I hear adults talk about you and the ways that you make your surroundings a better place. 

I pray that even on hard days, your beaming smile shines through and you find a way to laugh and sing.  I pray that on the best days, you are able to capture moments in your mind and can look back on them in the many years to come. 

I pray that you continue to find things that ignite passion and that you continue to try new things and develop new interests.  

I pray you always care about others and can continue to see those who often feel overlooked or forgotten because that's a beautiful gift from Papa God. 

I pray you never lose your playfulness.

I pray you are always able to see good in the world even though sometimes that feels overwhelmingly difficult.

I pray you always hold on to hope.

I pray you always know that God is with you.

I pray you always know you are deeply loved.

Thank you for blessing me with another year of laughter, singing, creating, exploring, snuggling, and the thousands of other moments we shared.  I love when we are able to spend time together, even if it's something simple like goofing off as we drive through down on errands.  Next time we get coffee, I'll let you order for me.  Don't let me forget.

Thank you for making me a better momma.  Thank you for loving me even when I'm cranky, or you're cranky, or we are all cranky.  Thank you for arguing with me about who loves whom more.  Thank you for never letting me forget that I'm goofy.  Thank you for all the help you provide in so many ways.   Thank you for being authentically you, all of the time.

You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and I'm so glad you're mine.

Happy 12th Birthday, Boo.

Love you more,

Momma

Innocent Assault

 (ATTENTION: pertinent links and resources are located in bold at the end of this post.  If you or someone you know is struggling, please see those)

Once upon a time, there was a little girl.  She was born with dark brown hair, but over time, it lightened to the color of corn silk.  She had chubby little cheeks, green eyes, and a pure little heart full of love and joy.

As she continued to grow, and her hair turned dark, what no one knew about her little heart was that it had been silently broken by someone who loved her.

A simple afternoon, sitting on a dining room chair, against the wall, just right of the doorway, facing a television, watching a game show, next to a man she trusted. After that she didn’t want be around him.  She didn’t want to sit in that chair.  She didn’t want to watch that TV.  She avoided it as best she could because sometimes when she didn’t avoid it, it happened again.

They were confusing moments and she didn’t know how to react, so… she didn’t react at all.

Then, for many more years, she told herself it wasn’t “that bad” because so many people had been through worse.

Sure, his hands had explored places she didn’t want them to be.  But he didn’t physically hurt her.  He didn’t kiss her.  He didn’t take her clothes off her body…. He didn’t do… worse.  

The little girl tucked the memory away and didn’t revisit it until much, much later.  She was utterly relived when she no longer had to see that man, and somehow even more relieved when he died years later. 

However, that same little girl grew into a young woman.  She developed a chest, and because was self-conscious and certain she was “fat,” she made sure to be covered up in public. Plus, she didn’t want creepy guys looking at her… ever.  She was a nerdy dork of sorts, so she wasn’t popular, but that was okay.

When she was in high school though, she met a boy from another town, online, since the internet was just growing and changing the way you could interact with people.  He was from a few towns over, but eventually, they decided to meet up, with friends, of course.  This nervous teen with her glasses and some acne put on a pair of jeans and her Winnie-the-Pooh “baby doll” fitted t-shirt, and met the boy.  It was a blast, hanging out in his living room, listening to music, and joking around.

The lights got dimmer, and things calmed, and she sat next to the boy on the couch.  Without permission, he slid hid hands in between her thighs.   She pushed him away, and he stared at her confused.  He kissed her on the cheek, and his hands wandered back to where they had been.  He tried to unbutton them, and she slapped him. He thought it was funny. He tried one more time, and she got up and left.

She didn’t tell anyone about it, because “nothing really happened” and she solved the problem on her own.

A few months later, she met a different boy, from a different town, who came to her house to hang out.  They decided to go for a drive, and look at the stars in the country, having conversation in his vehicle.  He snuggled up next to her and she relaxed into his arms. His arm was placed securely around her shoulder, and they kissed briefly.  Then, his hands went to her chest.  She told him no.  He stopped.  They continued talking.  She never saw him again.  Soon enough, the girl graduated from high school, made new friends, and was enjoying making memories with her friends.

The girl went to college a few hours away from home.  She was startled to see the first boy in her college dormitory building.  She avoided looking at him and tried to avoid him at all costs.  She wasn’t afraid of him, but she felt so gross when she was in his presence.  In the second semester, she was in one of the same classes as him.   She dropped out.  She didn’t need that class, anyway.

She grew up, got married, graduated, and started a life, got divorced, and continued shaping a life.

That girl is me.

My story is, I presume, to be “not that bad” compared to countless other stories that are much more grotesque, detailed, violating, violent, devastating, and many other adjectives I cannot think of.  What I have grappled with in my adult years, is admitting it’s still not okay, and each unwanted situation was a form of sexual assault.  I am good now. I am healed emotionally and spiritually. It wasn’t always the case, especially during the years I told no one and had to figure out how to be a girlfriend, fiancé, and wife, while carrying around the invisible baggage.

Years ago, I volunteered on a “Crisis Hotline” where I took calls from people in serious situations, sometimes suicidal, sometimes victims of assault.  There was one night, when I received my first 1am phone-call from a quiet voice on the other end, hesitatingly answering ‘yes’ when asked if there was anyone on the other end of the line.  She admitted she was raped.  She was terrified.  She didn't know what to do.  I asked her if she wanted to go to the hospital and talk to someone there- together.  I would meet her.

She said yes.  

I drove miles away to the hospital, and I met this young woman, about my age, in the emergency room waiting area.  We sat in silence, and I explained I would stay with her as long as she would like, but that I wouldn’t pressure her to do or say anything, I would just support her.  

I had been through unwanted contacts in my own body.  

Being inside that sterile room, with the door shut, a female nurse, and a victim undergoing a rape kit collection… broke me.  It didn’t break me for me.  It broke me for her.  It broke me for women and children everywhere.  It broke me for humanity.  

Many years later, someone I hold exceptionally dear asked me to come along with her as she confronted her abuser, after years of undergoing therapy to help heal her heart and mind from years of sexual assault/abuse.  I was so proud of her, so broken with her, and so relieved for her when we drove away that afternoon.

I took a job, over a decade ago, working with children who were dealing with intense trauma and lasting effects of it.  I was able to see how trauma affected their every day lives in ways that I hadn’t been privy to before.  I walked alongside them for almost a year before my life changed, and my marriage ended.

Now, I’m a CASA volunteer, and it’s often possible that the children I walk alongside have traumas related to these areas.  I’ve also taken many trainings on these subjects.  I did not realize until recently how immersed into the subject I have been throughout my life.

Somewhere along the line, I also learned that it was okay to tell your partner or spouse “no” and that just because you were committed to them, didn’t mean you “had to” let them do things, or “give in” to doing things with them, if you didn’t want to do it.  The concept seemed somehow foreign to me, quite frankly, because I just assumed it was the right way to approach intimacy.  I learned that feeling disgusted after going along with something intimate you didn’t want to do was actually a fairly normal response to that situation. 

You’re also allowed to agree to or initiate something and then change your mind.

As I have continued to grow in life experiences and seeing life become more publicly shared and critiqued and criticized, alongside the rest of the world, my eyes have been burned open to atrocities occurring al around us, all of the time. I know I’m not alone in feeling like we are constantly bombarded with bad news and tragedy.  The world feels like a scary, dark, depressing place more often than any of us ever bargained for, I’m guessing. 

I have spent hours in contacts with others who have had experiences in these (and other) areas.  Survivors have my heart.  I hold them all dear.

Lately, I’ve been feeling very overwhelmed on social media.  It isn’t the presentation of the many terrible things going on that overwhelms me, but the commentary. I know that many things presented on social media are biased in some way, and I try to take the information presented with a grain of salt, and to verify, and to research both sides of the cards before I make my judgements.  But… when I read commentary on things, I find it much more difficult to do so…

ESPECIALLY when it comes to commentary regarding sexual assault, harassment, and abuse. For example, famously, the Epstein files.

Rapists

Pedophiles

Molesters

Murders

Assailants 

Traffickers

Solicitors

and so many other labels ascribed to those people who make unwanted words, thoughts, gestures, and contact with a person who is non-consensual, or not wanting these things to be aimed toward or acted out upon them.

There are too many jokes. 

There are too many people victim shaming.

There are too many pcople victim blaming.

There are too many justifying these crimes against others.

 

I find it utterly disgusting when someone tries to pit one abuser against another, saying we shouldn’t be mad about one because we weren’t mad about another in the past. There may have been circumstances in the past that affected someone’s ability to process any of these things then.  We can’t change the past but we can change the future.  We have to start changing our thinking and our conversations NOW. 

We shouldn’t be excusing this despicable behavior just because someone has led a perfect, near perfect, okay-ish, or terrible public life.  It isn’t excusable when you’re a politician, entrepreneur, celebrity, clergy, teacher, any job, any age, ANYTHING.  IT IS ALWAYS INEXCUSABLE. 

This is not political. It's HUMANE. 

Now. Always.  Now is better than never, and each one needs to be held accountable by law for the devastation they put upon another human.

The effects of sexual assault and abuse are often not short term.  A person can stuff it down for decades, and be in the act of intimacy with another person that they initiated, and suddenly be in a moment of panic, terror, shame, disgust, etc. and need things to end.  It is not uncommon.  It is not uncommon for survivors to deal with mental health or body issues.  It is not uncommon for survivors to self-sabotage relationships.  It’s not uncommon for survivors to black it all out and forget about it completely until something unrelated triggers them and breaks them down.

It’s not uncommon that this is happening right now, as you read my words.  And now.  Oh, and right now too.

IT SHOULD BE UNCOMMON THAT IT HAPPENS AT ALL.

I also find it entirely devastating that people still need to be reminded that what a person wears does not justify sexual assault, abuse, or harassment.  What their body is shaped like does not justify sexual assault, abuse, or harassment.  What they have been drinking does not justify sexual assault, abuse, or harassment.

Being drunk does not justify perpetrating sexual assault, abuse, or harassment.

Sexual abuse, assault, and harassment occurs across all “lines” we draw between ourselves- economic, religious, race, age, location, etc.  

So many victims are CHILDREN.

As adults, we spend so much time trying to make sure that youth understand that “no” means “no” at any time it is spoken, in any situation.  When someone says “stop,” they mean it.  If someone rejects you, you accept it.  We tell them to listen to and respect adults, as well as their peers. Children ask us a question, and we say "no" and they ask why, so we say "because I said so." It's ingrained from early childhood. 

But somehow, too many adults forget it applies to adults, too.  "No" and "stop" get ignored.

We are supposed to be protecting each other, not destroying each other. We are especially supposed to be protecting our children and youth.

I know that a child becomes a legal adult at age 18 in the United States of America, but it is widely known research now that a person’s brain doesn’t fully develop until their early to mid twenties. Just a tidbit in case you hadn’t heard that before.  

In terms of protecting our children, youth, and each other, we need to be conscious of the fact that there are eyes and ears around you regularly, and they see, hear, and sense your reactions and beliefs to the terrible things going on in the world.  They will develop a sense of safety or fear in response to those.  They will trust you or they won’t when it comes to important issues as well as trivial things. They will mimick people they love, sometimes even if they don’t understand what or why.

They know how we are treating each other.

They know how we are discussing each other.

They know.

We must do better.  We cannot divide the world continually, especially in regard to things that we all (or most all) agree are just plain wrong.  

I know this has been long.  But, I feel it’s been important.

As I wind down, I can’t help but put myself back in my younger shoes, and wish I had been braver, or more informed, or…. Something.  But I cannot take the blame- especially not for the youngest situation.  He knew what he was doing was wrong.  As a teenager, I would like to think both boys knew what they did was wrong, but I never will know, and it doesn’t matter, because in both situations, I didn’t ask for or agree to things that happened to me.

I do know it is possible to forgive someone who abused or harmed you, bit still want them to be held accountable. They SHOULD be, especially when harming children who do not have the necessary equipping to do so on their own. 

It is soul-crushingly difficult to be brave enough to speak out when something that destroys your innocence is inflicted upon you. I didn’t see that until that night in the hospital room. But I see it now, and I see it every day in any brave person who names their abuser publicly.  I see it as they fight against censorship of the names and events, and my heart honors them.  

Can you feel their pain?

You should.  Put yourself in their shoes and then read or write public comments online. What if it happened to you? To your children? To your family? To your friends?

It can happen to anyone- male or female. Anyone. It can happen incredibly quick and the survivor not realize until its over or be a long, grueling torture (and the many lengths and intensity in-between).

Feel the judgement and blame from millions of people who do not know you, or who are against you because your abuser is someone they like.  Try it.  

I hope it helps you realize how brave they are. How strong they are.

Speaking out is a hard thing to do.  It shouldn’t be.  

A year ago, one of my children spoke out against a staff that they admired, in a place that they felt safe.  It wasn’t a physical action that occurred against them, but unwanted and potentially inappropriate words toward multiple children.  Sure, they weren’t “terrible” but my child felt uneasy and that they were wrong. My child trusted their good moral compass. They came to me.  I told them they should do the difficult, brave, scary thing, and speak out.  So they did.  

The person in authority of the situation at the time commended them on their strength and bravery, because it looks like an insurmountable feat for a child to speak out on the wrongdoing of an adult that they trust, and in some times, admire, and in some times, love.  We were fortunate this situations as more minor that sexual assault, abuse, or harassment.  But it wasn’t okay.  

It's difficult for adults, too.  But, if there's someone or something you need to talk about, please do it. You can do difficult things. You already have- you survived.

If you made it through all of this, I hope it’s helped something in someway.  If you or anyone you know is dealing with sexual assault, abuse, or harassment, suicide or self-harm, or dangerous situations, please know you are not alone, and reach out to someone.

National Sexual Assault Hotline - 1-800-656-4673 (Free, Confidential, 24/7 Support) - https://rainn.org (chat and text available)

National Sexual Violence Resource Center - https://nsvrc.org

National Deomestic Violence Hotline - 1-800-799-7233 (or text BEGIN to 88788) - http://thehotline.org

National Human Trafficking Hotline - 1-888-373-7888 (or text INFO to 233733) - http://humantraffickinghotline.org

Department of Justice - https://www.justice.gov

Helpline Center - dial 211 - https://www.helplinecenter.org

And, if you need someone to be a safe space or more area specific resources, I’m here.

Nicole.m.worthley@gmail.com

When You're Fifteen...

 Spencer, 

I don’t think that the 15th birthday is considered some monumental milestone, typically, but for some reason, in my heart, it feels like a major birthday somehow.  Perhaps, it’s because I know what you’ve been through all these years, and seeing you, a wise, caring, humorous, generous, and loving young man, feels like more than just a dream come true. 

I know YOU don’t always feel that way about yourself, but lucky for you, I’m here.

“Cause when you’re fifteen and somebody tells you you they love you, you’re gonna believe them…”

It’s a song lyric. While I know the song isn’t about parental love, as I powered on my iPad to write to you, as you drift off to sleep after an exhausting week, that lyric burst into my mind.  

I love you.

I hope you believe it.

The end of that song goes “But I’ve found time can heal most anything, and you just might find who you’re supposed to be. I didn’t know who I was supposed to be at fifteen.”

I pray that for you, my wonderful son. I believe there is absolute truth in those words.  

I didn’t know who I was at fifteen either.  I do now.

I am your mom.

I am your friend.

I am your safety.

I am your champion.

I am yours.

As you know, I dreamt of you forever. I hoped for you for decades.  I’ve told you more than once, and I will tell you again- you were the miraculous answer to my deepest prayers.

You’re everything I imagined, and so much more…

…and to see joy in your eyes brings me elation that I cannot describe.

Like tonight, when unexpectedly, you were given a gift I’m not sure you dared to dream for, and held your guitar in your hands.  When I handed it to you almost two weeks ago in the guitar shop, I just knew it had to be yours.  I knew I had to make it happen…

..and it did.  The guitar that is years older than you, but somehow was made specifically for you, is yours. And such beautiful moments happened shortly after, when you sat down with your uncle, your siblings, and your cousins, and musical memories formed, filling the room.  I watched you playing, singing along with them, with tears in my eyes.

I know it doesn’t probably feel like it yet, but right in front of me, I’m watching you find who you are. I love who you are.  Quite frankly, you’re one of my very favorite people on this planet.  

The teenage years are complex, no doubt, but I love the general, genuine ease of our relationship.  I love that we can laugh together, cry together, be quiet together, be noisy together… be…. together, and there is no conflict or strife, even on harder days.  It’s a God thing, no doubt.  

When you read this, you will officially be fifteen.   As you go about your days this year, I want you to know I’m still always praying for you- for healing your hurts, for increasing your joys.  I pray that you find deep, meaningful friendships, and people you can call your tribe.  I pray that your interests and passions expand and deepen. I pray that the music you create is rooted in your soul and brings fire to your spirit like it does when I hear you play.   I pray that your sense of humor never fades, and your smile only brightens.  I pray that you feel anchored in who you are and never feel lost in this crazy world.  I pray that you believe only the truth about who you are and not the lies that the enemy wants you to latch onto.

Thank you for the hugs, every day.  You know you hug me more than anyone else in the world, right?  I love it, more than you know.

Thank you for making fun of me and keeping me humble.

Thank you for all of these years.  

You are loved, more than you’ll ever know.

You are worthy.

I’m so glad you’re mine.

I love you.

Forever and ever, amen.

Mom

Two Teen

Dearest Collin,

The day is upon us. Tomorrow, you will become my second teenager.  As is always the case, I feel that this year has flown by and tomorrow could not possibly be your birthday again. As is always the case, I cannot slow time down, and tomorrow is your birthday again.  Time is cruel in that way.

I want you to know that I have loved this last year with you, watching you grow and mature.  I have loved this past year, because in some ways, time has been kind, and although you're a big kid, you still hold on to some of that younger-child joy.  There's a sparkle in your eye when you wonder that I hope you never lose, like I believe you will never lose your love of dinosaurs.  My momma heart hopes you hold onto that as long as possible.  The world as a whole makes us grow up sooner than we should, often times, and holding onto those special things that bring you joy is important, if you ask me.

I know that you do not always agree with me, but Collin, you are so smart.  So often, I will be talking about some random topic, and although I do not realize you're listening, from across the room, you will interject some random fact, or answer a question I hadn't even asked yet, and I absolutely adore that about you.  I love the way your mind works.  I find it to be an intriguing place, and I often muse about what kind of things are buried deep inside.  

I have enjoyed watching you grow in courage as well.  When you went to the youth group retreat this summer, I had a moment of tears, seeing you ready to experience something like that, far away from me, not knowing what to expect, but being full of anticipation.  I heard such wonderful things about you and the color you bring to people's lives when you are not with me.  

I love watching you with your cousins.  Although most of them are younger than you, you connect with them in fantastic ways.  One of my favorite moments of the summer cousin time was when one of your cousins told me that she knows you will protect her.   I loved watching the two of you laugh endlessly, then focus and discuss things on the couch together.  I just love seeing you "click" into place with people.  I love that more than one of your cousins has told me recently that they know you love them so very much.   

I love that we all know that even if there is tension sometimes, sibling bickering, or foul moods, you will ALWAYS have our backs.  You are always on our side.  You have fierce, unwavering love for the people you choose to love, and you would do anything you could to protect them.  We have seen it many times.  I pray that as you continue to grow in patience and wisdom, you will be able to discern the right time and way to stand up for those you care for.    

I know that you are going to do big things in this world.  I know that you are going to continue to live a life of inquisitive discovery, and that you are going to find special ways to leave a lasting mark.  I know that you are passionate for making this world a better place, that you love the environment, nature, animals, and more.  I have seen the fire in your spirit when you hear or see injustice.  

As always, there are struggles in each year that we live and grow, but really, Collin, this last year was so wonderful overall.  You have become more patient, and less quick to react in many situations.  I know that it has been a hard road to get to this point, and I have seen you work incredibly hard to be where you are.  I know that it isn't always easy and that mistakes will be made, but I also know you learn from each of them.  

I pray that in this coming year, as a teenager, you continue to find passions and interests in new and exciting things.  The world is still opening up for you, and there are countless opportunities ahead of you to find what brings you joy.  

I pray that you continue to have patience, grace, and kindness for those around you, and that each day, you feel patience, grace, and kindness toward you as well.  You give some of the very best hugs on the planet, and I pray that you never stop sharing that gift with me and the many others who love them too.  

I pray that while you grow stronger, you continue to grow gentler as well, and are able to find the balance in each moment.  I pray that your love of nature, of cats, and the rest of the world around you continues to deepen.  

I pray that you are always able to find safe spaces and comfort in your environment.  

I pray that while your mind continues to race, it also continues to learn to rest. 

I pray that you and your siblings continue to grow up, but grow together, and use these next years to solidify your bond that will carry you through the rest of your lives.  Siblings are a priceless treasure, and I pray that you all always know that you can count on one another. Always. 

I pray that as you continue on in middle school, you find your people- the ones you know will have your back just like you do for so many that you love. I pray that you will find yourself as part of the larger community of peers, and never as an outsider.  

I pray that even though you sometimes feel different, you realize we are all unique, and even in your differences, you truly, completely belong.

I pray you will continue to be proud to be my son and never embarrassed to be with me.  There's something so wonderful about the fact that you are still willing to hold my hand while walking sometimes.  I love that you tell me you love me in the drop off lane at school as you exit the car- even if occasionally you're in a grumpy morning mood.

I pray that these teenage years are a lot of fun. I know there's potential for... moods, and stuff... that comes with the age, but I also know that there's potential for SO. MUCH. FUN.  It has already been a joy seeing our relationship grow and evolve as time ebbs on.  

I pray you will always let me call you Ollie Bear, even if it's eventually only in secret.

Collin, my love, the world is a better place with you in it.  Never let yourself believe otherwise. 

I pray that being a teenager is all you dream it will be, and so much more.  

You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm so glad you're mine.

Love,

Mom

 

Tween

 

Hey, Girlfriend,

Here we are... at yet another transition.  I didn't google it or anything, but in my mind, this birthday marks the transition from big kid to tween.  Is that how it goes? Tonight, you go from ten to eleven.  It really isn't that much older, but it feels like a big transition somehow.

Norah, you are one of the greatest humans I've ever met. You are full of spice and spunk, laughter, and love. You radiate joy with your smiling eyes and your bounding laughter.  You are SO, SO loud, I like to think your joy carries far beyond who can see you in front of them.  I hear from so many people that they see your light in your smile, in your dance, in your eyes.  It makes me so proud to call you my own.  I try not to get too full of myself, but I like to think that my goal of raising good humans is coming to fruition with each year that passes.  

Sure, now that you're becoming a tween, you're also... a little... well, you know. Emotions happen.  We struggle some days, but our communication within our little family is pretty top-notch most of the time, so we get through even the biggest rollercoaster days. 

We are all learning a little more about empathy and grace these days, I think.  We all work as a team to try to remember to pause and not react, and when we do react, to react with kindness and understanding. It's a wild ride watching all of my littles go from three kids four and younger, to three kids entering their teenage years.  So many people talk about how teenage years are hard, and I know that's true, but so far, for the most part, I am enjoying this phase of life.  It's been so fun to see personalities change and emerge. You, my daughter, are also my friend, and the person I spend the most time with outside of work.  You still think I'm fun and hilarious, and you seek me out more than anyone else I know.  I know that we have had talks about how I'm still trying to navigate that, being a somewhat independent person, and that your need for me, your desire to be around me frequently, to have my eyes and ears on you, is a sign that we have a great relationship.  I tell myself it must mean I am a good mom.  I am truly blessed when you (and your brother) reaffirm that.  I promise that in this next year, I will try my best to slow down and be in those little moments with you, the ones you crave even though I don't necessarily understand it (within reason, of course).

But really, you're my daughter and my girlfriend. I love our coffee & smoothie dates, cruising in the car singing at the top of our lungs, laughing about ridiculous nonsense.  I love that our sense of humor is similar and our sarcasm is complimentary, so we can tell when we are being silly snarky with one another.  I love that we can (usually) read each other's expressions and know things without words being spoken.  I love sharing a room with you and I find it utterly fascinating you feel the same way.  I didn't expect it.  I love creating with you. I love watching TV with you. I love fighting over the affection of our cats with you.

And that's just me. You are so many things to so many people. Your brothers are blessed by you and your love for them even when you don't get along.  I know you would each stand up for the others when time gets hard.  I've seen you have each other's backs when it feels like others turn away. Your besties are blessed by you and your silly inside jokes, dances, and hand-shakes.  Your teachers are blessed by you and your sense of community, compassion, and inclusion.  Your cousins are blessed by your unconditional love that surpasses all geography and ages.  Your aunts, uncles, grandparents, and chosen family are blessed in the same way.  Animals all over the place are blessed by you and how your excessive energy can be calmed in an instant so that a furry friend will seek you out almost anywhere we go. You are full of empathy and compassion. You see the unseen.  You have a creative, unique, problem-solving mind that brings goodness to this world.

You're a treasure- a mutli-faceted gem.  

Having once been a pre-teen (I didn't know the word "tween" when I was younger, shocking, I know.. the [late] 1900s were really something...) I know that the next few years are going to be full of self-discovery, conflict, and resolution.  Your sense of self may be challenged in unexpected ways. You may cry a lot of tears over a lot of things, both inconsequential and significant, and it all really does matter.  Friendship lines may blur and change, but I pray you'll remember to always be a good friend to those around you.  I pray that you never harbor hatred in your heart. I pray that you embrace forgiveness, but also firm boundaries to protect your heart.  I pray you are able to tune out the lies you may be tempted to believe about yourself, and hold firm to the truth.  I hope that you are always able to know when to be serious and when to be silly, who to joke with and when, and that it is a rarity to hurt another person's feelings. 

You are brave. You are strong. You are fierce.  This world has thrown some really big stones your way, but you've knocked them down or climbed over each one, and not a single thing can break you if you hold onto who you really are inside. I know it. 

Girl, you're going to move mountains and change atmospheres.  I can't wait to see it.

Keep sprinkling kindess. Keep splashing sunshine.

I love you.

More.

Most.

(Your brothers too, even though you don't always like them, and I have to remind you they're also my favorite people. We'll keep working on it.)

You dazzle me.

YTBTTEHTMAISGYM.

Hahahaha.  I hope I got that right.

But yes, "it's possible."

Always,

Your Momma

Vierzehn?!

 Dearest Spencer,

Fourteen.

Really?

Fourteen?

Can’t be.

Guess it is. 

Vierzehn. Wir werden damit weitermachen. Es klingt weniger verrückt, oder?

Ja.

As I write this you’re enjoying your “up later than your sister” bedtime privileges in the other room, doing teenager things.  When you first started taking your space from the rest of us, I was worried. Maybe even secretly offended, wondering what we were doing wrong.

Then it dawned on me- that’s a typical teenage thing.

Sure, you became a teenager last year.  But you’ve become more of a teenager over the course of the year, if that makes any sense at all. 

I know some people talk about how teenagers can be a bit… much.  It’s true, there are times when it feels like chaos and uncertainty and difficult and exhausting and confusing.  I realize more and more how outnumbered I am at home.  But… so far, it’s been mostly enjoyable, I think… I’m hoping you would agree, but feel free to share with me your brutal honesty on that one once you read this letter.

When it dawned on me that you’re doing typical teenage things now, I was a little scared.  It felt like brand new territory.  I’m not sure why, because clearly, I was a teenager once, and I hung out with other teenagers once upon a time, and half of them were boys.  Yet, I had myself convinced it was going to be slightly terrifying somehow.

Maybe it will be. I like to think it won’t.  I’m practical in the brain sometimes, so I won’t be surprised if it is.

I digress,

Tomorrow, you’re going to wake up and be vierzehn and time has still not slown down even a little bit. You’re one year closer to the day where you will decide to live away from me and your siblings and the whole world as we know it will change.  That realization is ever present in my mind, and it’s why I try tos spend as much time with you doing carefree or interesting things with you- forcing you to swim in a lake, taking you hiking, going to the park, and whatever other things I “forced” you to do (or sweet talked you into).

I loved every minute you were with me this year, even if the minute itself sucked for whatever reason, because it was one minute time couldn’t steal you away from me.

Someday I’m going to be old and you’ll have a life of your own and I’ll look back on the hard times and laugh and be grateful for them, even if we are having a cranky day and you don’t want me to make jokes. I do love that you get my jokes though and goodness knows I appreciate yours (when timed properly of course, because we are very similar like that).

Secret time, and don’t be embarrassed: You’re a really good kid. I see it. I know it. Others see it. Others know it. Others tell me.

Granted, we all have our issues, yours included (I would really like you to turn in more of your homework, after all, for example), but deep down, you’ve got an amazing, caring, compassionate heart, a brilliant mind, excellent wit, creative problem solving and reasoning, and some of the best hugs I’ve ever received.  It’s been so odd transitioning to you being the taller one in a hug and often being the one to initiate it, but I adore those moments more than you know. Wouldn’t want to make it awkward and be all mushy hearted.

This year has been a whirlwind with lots of good and some not so good, of course.  The surprise trip to Florida with your aunt, uncle, cousin, siblings, and I, was the things dreams were made of.  I savored all of the joy you emitted and the whimsy and wonder of all the new experiences we had together.  It’s a week I will remember and cherish my entire life. What a gift we were all given.

I know the end of the school year, the summer, and the beginning of this school year have been tainted with the familiar stench of fatherly abandonment, and I am so sorry that is a rerun you have to live through again.  I am proud of the young man you’re becoming through all of life’s challenges though.  Your ability to voice your thoughts and emotions continues to grow, your honesty is precious, and your resilience is something to treasure. There’s been some really terrible times in your life but still, you smile on, you laugh, and you love.  

I have loved watching your quiet faith blossom as well.  A few weekends ago, when you had a word for prayer time in church, and you bravely sent it in, and the congregation prayed it, and then we found out someone in the church that you don't personally know knew someone that fit that prayer request perfectly- I had chills all over my body but electric burning warmth in my spirit.  It was a beautiful moment, and I was so overjoyed to see you following the whispers you hear God sending your way. I pray your faith continues to grow and you continue to hear, see, and seek Jesus in countless ways.  

I’ve also loved watching my biggest kid love the smallest kids in our family.  Sometimes, I watch you interact with your younger cousins and I just want to literally, audibly, squeal in your face because it’s beautiful moments.  They look up to you and love you deeply.  They see the light in your spirit, too.   I love watching you interact with your uncles as you continue to get older and see the bonds you form with them, too.  Your aunts have always been close to your heart and strong, and it’s been such a delight to see your relationships with your uncles growing. 

Spencer, thank you for continuing to be playful and fun with me others around you, and not being too cool to give me hugs on the regular.  Thank you for helping people in need, even if no one else sees them, without being asked or expecting praise for doing so.  Thank you for being willing to learn new skills and help with different projects that you can do now that you’re older.  Thank you for teaching me new things. Thank you for laughing with me.  Thank you for singing car duets with me, which is hands-down one of my favorite parts of road trips.  Thank you for being you.

I pray that this year, your friendships and other peer relationships grow deeper roots. I pray you find more people to be in your tribe, with similar interests. I pray that you grow to love school and enjoy challenges and are able to let go of the burden of perfectionism.  You are enough as you are, you know.  I pray that you experience vierzehn more times joy than heartache.  I pray that you realize how brave, strong, and smart you are.  I pray that you (and I) savor the minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months this year and hold onto the goodness they bring as long as possible.

I love you.

Like…

A lot.

We’re in this together, forever.

And did I mention…

Ich liebe dich?

Immer.

Mom

Another Dozen Years

 Dearest Ollie Bear,

I wonder how long it will be before you ask me to stop calling you “Ollie Bear.”  I hope that you never do, but I understand that as you get older, things like that may be less acceptable, so I’m holding on to that nickname as long as I can.

As you lay in bed tonight, wrapped up in your blanket, with Mr. Cuddles and books strewn about your bed, you look so young, but so much bigger than I remember you being not all that long ago.  In the last year, you’ve not only grown taller, but more patient, focused, and mature.  I’ve watched you deal with complicated situations and heated emotions with more grace than ever before.  I’ve seen you kneel down to the eye level of younger kids and help direct them in clear, loving, rational ways.  I’ve seen the amount of impulses you act upon decrease in number as the days wind onward. You’ve walked long, difficult roads, for many years, and come so very far.

Mister Collin, you bring such depth and variety to my life, but also the lives of countless others around you.  This year, you’ve started middle school, which was an emotional transition for both of us.  You’ve left such a lasting mark on the hearts and minds of so many in your days, however, that there were emotions and questions and anecdotes and memories shared with me by so many of the elementary teachers  and staff that you left behind as you go forward on the new journey.  Watching them all hug you on the first day of school this year, as we took your sister to her final elementary year, brought tears to my eyes.  They trickled down my cheeks after I watched you step out of the car and walk bravely to the new school where you will meet an entirely new set of people to leave a mark upon.  I pray that it’s a positive, beautiful mark, and that you can touch their lives as you have so many teachers and staff before them.  I get such joy hearing all sorts of Collin stories.  You really liven up this life.

You are such a smart dude.  The amount of information you are able to bring to us is incredible, and listening to you and your older brother discuss more complicated topics than you have in the past makes me grin in the other room as I listen in quietly.

I’ve enjoyed learning new things about you over the course of this last year.  Just recently, I found out your favorite song is “Everybody Wants to Rule the World,” by Tears for Fears, which intrigues me greatly.  It sure does bring a smile to my face to see you run to the room the song is playing from and do your little bee-bop dancing as you sing along.  I really have no attachment to the song and could go my life without hearing it again, but then I wouldn’t have those moments of watching the joy it brings to you. I love that you found an interest in playing the trombone in the school band last year, and that you’ve become quite a talented artist, bringing your unconditional love for dinosaurs to drawings I find throughout the apartment and car. 

You still have such a quick sense of humor, but also a clever set of problem solving skills that have become quicker as days go by.  It’s been another fun thing to watch you really tap into. 

You’ve become braver over the last year and really been more open to trying new things.  It’s been a joy to watch you realize new loves, likes, and even dislikes.  The world is such an expansive place and with so many experiences to immerse yourself in, and I love that you’re willing to approach it in ways you haven’t in the past. I love that you realized you love steak… and bacon- lots of bacon.

I love that you’re almost always up for some kind of adventure (even if it takes a little coaxing) and that you still let me take your picture even if you don’t really want me to.

I love that you still love to hug with full force and wreckless, loving, abandon.  I love that you still like to snuggle me.  I love that you still rest your head on my shoulder as we sit on the couch.  I love that you remind me you love me.  I love reminding you the same.

Collin, I can’t wait to see what your next year brings.  The first dozen have shown developed a love in me like no other and helped me see the world through so many different lenses and filters.  You’ve taught me deeper patience and understanding.  I have seen you bring those same gifts to others in all areas of your life. 

I pray that your next year is filled with life-altering and personality-solidifying experiences, but I mean that in the best ways.  I know you’ve had enough heartbreak and trauma in your first twelve years.  I (perhaps unrealistically, because we know how the world can be) hope that only great and beautiful things fill this next year of your life.  If, by chance, some less than wonderful things happen, I hope you can find the beauty in them, at least looking back at them, if it is hard to as you go through.

I pray that you make life-long friends and supportive, positive relationships in middle school. I hope you find your niche and your people and that you sense safety in those spaces and communities.  I pray that your mind is enriched greatly by all the new things you will learn and do. I hope you love your middle school years.  I hope your year twelve is the best one yet.

Thank you for being a beacon of unconditional love, not only for me and your family and friends, but even for many who have “wronged” you or caused heartache in the past.  Recently, we were discussing a person that, at the time, was incredibly difficult to continue interacting with, and you remarked how they were a good person.  It stopped me in my tracks and I tasted the bitterness in my spirit and realized that you were right, they are likely a good person, even if our experience with them was pretty wretched overall.  

I hope you can continue to easily forgive others and to not hold grudges that weigh on your heart.

I love you, my Ollie Bear- more than you’ll ever know.

Happy Birthday, Buddy.

You’re the best thing that ever happened to me and I’m so glad you’re mine.

-Mom

Someday, You Can’t

 This summer has started out so very similar to the many summer “vacations” we have had before in our little family.  School is out, leisure time abounds (for the children anyway) and we set off to intentionally spend time together doing, generally, simple activities to create memories together.   This past year, the kiddos finished 7th, 5th, and 4th grades.  They’re getting older, and each year, that fact weighs silently on my mind a little heavier.

Over the last handful of years (it feels like very few, but it has been 7 or so), I have lost two aunts and two uncles, each of my parents having said their earthly farewells to at least one sibling.  I have had the sorrow of saying these goodbyes to many people over the years, and the finality of death has not escaped me since I was a child.  

My own children are coming to grips with these circumstances in ways they’re understanding much more deeply as they’re growing up. This past winter, we learned the devastating news that a deeply loved uncle passed away.  This death rocked my children’s hearts a little harder, because he was an uncle they spent a considerable amount of time with when we would go back to my hometown area in MN.  He would randomly show up and spend wonderful hours playing alongside my children, loving on all of us.  My kids refer to him as “the best kind of uncle” and their hearts have taken many months to speak his name without their voices cracking or tears filling their eyes.  I think more than any so far, this was the death that really left a life altering impact.

Since his funeral, we have had many conversations about spending time with those you love.  There’s a song that we all love, “Til You Can’t,” and the lyrics are simple and powerful and remind us that someday, those people you love won’t be there anymore, so stop putting off until another day the time you could share right now.

This lesson has applied to multiple circumstances since my uncle’s passing, but today, sitting beside an algae-tinted lake under cloudy grey skies, I watched two of my children float around on inner tubes, while my oldest sat beside me, digging in the sand, unwilling to participate in the activity.  He insisted it was good enough that he came along and that having fun was not a necessary part of the endeavor.  On one hand, I understood where he was a coming from, and almost agreed to an extent, but my momma heart turned on the waterworks and silent tears fell down my cheeks. I did not look his way.  I stifled any sniffle I felt coming, and I tried to swallow my emotions down so that I would not guilt trip or embarrass him making an emotional scene.

I was not upset that he was resisting the fun, I realized as I dug to the root of my flood, but rather, I was wading through a conversational path we had taken earlier this summer- the “18 summers” talk.  We had heard on the radio that children basically have eighteen summers  and then they’re adults.  Sometimes, it’s less, whether it’s death, taking on summer jobs, or other reasons.  We discussed how he’s already 13, his brother almost 12, and his sister is 10.  Most of those 18 summers have passed us by, and a few of them felt cheated due to being quite sick with covid and then another recovering from a spinal injury. This summer will feel shorter as of month from now I will have a surgery to repair my foot and will be unable to drive or do much for the rest of the summer.   “The days feel long but the years rush by,” I told him. He agreed.  That morning we drove in silence for a while until the next song came on the radio.

Tonight, sitting on the beach, I realized my heart was aching for my children and the realization that these days are also going by really quickly, and soon, they’ll be gone.  Much like the song I referenced above, we can’t guarantee there will ever be another peaceful day on the lake where all three children could float on the waves, splashing, laughing, and forming those memories that will carry them through their lifetimes. 

I finally decided to speak.

“I’m not mad, buddy.  I’m not disappointed.  I’m just realizing how short these days really are.” I said.  

I reminded him of the 18 summers.

“Why do they want to hang out with me? I’m a boring moody teenager. They think I’m annoying.”

“Siblings say that.  But they don’t always mean it in their soul.  They mean it in the minute, but when that minute is gone, they’re going to realize they were wrong.”

He gave me an argumentative look, but held his words before replying.

I went on to explain to him that now, as a 40 year-old, seeing half a lifetime go by, having spent so many summers orchestrating memories with my children, I see it from a fresh perspective.  It’s true that their summers are winding down.  Mine are long gone.

I told him about moving to college when my youngest sister was a toddler.  I had a two-hour commute to see any of my siblings at that point, when my summers had gone from being at home beside them, leaving to spend it with friends, to working at a camp and never living at home with any of them again. As the oldest of four, I understood how sometimes it feels like a burden to play with or entertain younger siblings.  I know how it sometimes feels like you’d rather be doing anything other than splashing in a lake.  I understand how you might not want to sit beside your parents for hours on end when you could be interacting with someone your own age who would undoubtedly be more fun and certainly more cool.

I get it.

Thankfully, I have loved my siblings fiercely all of their lives, and as an adult, although they were younger, I still made time and conscious effort to make memories and have adventures with them, often bringing them home with me for multiple days so we could explore, play, laugh, and grow together.  I am blessed beyond measure for years upon years of that.

But I get what it’s like on the other side of all of that, to see your grown-up siblings a fistful of times a year.  Often, those times are spend reminiscing, joking, and laughing about the years that have already passed by.

I understand wishing that we had even more hilarious inside jokes and fun memories than we do.  Yes, we have countless wonderful memories and photos of our adventures, and they are indescribably invaluable, but my heart aches knowing we could have had more. My sisters have become some of my dearest friends, and when push comes to shove, as annoying as we might have thought each other were growing up, any of us siblings would be there in an instant in the best ways we could if we were needed.  That love is rooted deeply despite differences and years apart. 

But we could have had more.

I am the one who left them behind, potentially like my oldest could to his siblings someday.  The effort to be with my siblings when my summers had faded and theirs were still in full bloom sometimes felt insurmountable and I know in retrospect that I took the days and hours we did have for granted more than I would have ever cared to admit at the time.

It’s that hindsight that has me looking straight ahead at the end of my own children’s summer roads.

He stood up and he hugged me, like he has so many times before.  I thanked him for coming along.  I realize, though I haven’t spoken the realization aloud to him, that at any time, I could tell him that he “has to” come along, and he could refuse, and that would be that. My days of carrying him to the car and buckling him into a seat have been long over.

“I think I’m gonna go get changed,” he told me.  Off he went to put on his swim trunks.  Together, we inflated his tube, and he hit floated out into the lake to laugh beside his siblings.

We all four talked on the way home about trying our best to pause and take in the moments, to take the chances, and to make the memories while we still can.

“Because someday, you can’t” my oldest said. “Like the song.”

I know we likely will not always been in the frame of mind to see adventures and outings that way.  I’m praying I will always have a grateful heart for the days when we do and the patient grace to remember that my children are growing older and more independent, and it will eventually change no matter how hard I try to keep the days from slipping through my fingers.

Ten Years of Sunshine

 Miss Norah,

You just hugged me goodnight, and I reminded you that you’re one of the best things that ever happened to me.  You went to your bed, one last time as a nine-year-old, with a glimmer in your eye that sparkles the anticipation of tomorrow.

I don’t know if I’ve told you in person how I’ve always thought of you as my Sunshine baby.  Your oldest brother was my first miracle and the answer to a lifetime of prayers.  After he was born, I lost a baby while I was pregnant.  When a baby is born after a loss like that, the next child born is considered a rainbow baby.  Your second brother was the rainbow after the storm.

You, my girl, have always been the sunshine that followed. 

I know I have told you how you were a big surprise, from the moment I found out I was pregnant with you, to the ultrasound where I was told you were a girl (after I was so certain I was meant to be a “boy mom” and never have a daughter), to the day you were born where you proved to me you really are a girl.  You were unexpected to me, but God knew what He was doing, and you were the perfect completion to my set of answered prayers.  

You have always brought the sunshine.  You bring it to me, but also to others.  You sparkle and you shine from the inside outward.  You have the most brilliant heart of gold, seeing what others often miss or overlook, and make sure that people who might go unnoticed see that they are important.  So many times, you’ve asked to give money, food, a hug, a gift, a blanket, your time, and your love to those around you- whether you know them or not.  You make my own heart swell with pride.

You are not only my daughter, but in some ways, you’re my friend.  You are my sidekick for errands, snuggles, and creating.  You have an amazing sense of humor and joyous laughter.  You sing your heart out every single day.  You are ready for pranks and silliness but also for serious talks and matters of the heart.

You are a delight to your brothers, even when you may not be getting along.  They have always been fierce protectors and know that you are their own. You reciprocate the same for them, and it blesses me to know that you will always have each other’s backs even when I’m not around.  

You brighten the lives of your extended family and your friends.  Animals love you too!  It’s amazing to see how so many are drawn to you and appreciate what you bring to this world.

The last year has been wonderful, but also sometimes a struggle, for as you start to mature, I’m having to get to know new sides of you.  Your interests and style have begun to change, and I must admit, when it first started, it threw me for such a loop that I felt maybe I was living in a dream.  The predictability of your long-time childhood passions began to fade away to reveal what your young lady heart and mind find joy in now.  

Because you are my only daughter, its taken some getting used to new facets of your personality, some of the sass, and unpredictability of older-girl emotions.  I pray that as you continue to grow and some things continue to change, we will both be blessed with unlimited patience and compassion for one another as we figure it all out together.  Your brothers are included in that prayer too.  In some ways, now that you are all growing up to be big kids, preteens, and teenagers, we are all getting to know each other in news ways all over again.  Some days this home is definitely chaotic and we feel a little overwhelmed, but I’m so grateful we are all lead by love and Jesus and I know we can get through any tough times together.

I know from experience that being a ten-year-old girl is not always easy.  I know that being in fourth and fifth grade with other girls can be a challenge and like riding an emotional rollercoaster set up inside of an unpredictable wave pool. I pray that your heart doesn’t take anything thrown your way as an attack on your identity, and you’re always able to remember that the other girls your age are all going through similar things alongside you, and it can just be a stormy mess sometimes.  There will be rainbows and sunshine after the storms if you hold on tight- I promise.

I have loved watching you flourish academically, artistically, musically, socially, and in your faith.  You are a gem with so many beautiful facets.

As we close out your first decade of life, I hope that you know I am always on your side, even when you might not see or feel that is truth.  I pray you never let the world dull your sparkle and extinguish your light.  I pray the atmosphere changes when you walk into a room because you carry the love of Jesus within you.  I pray that you find your tribe and make lifelong memories that you can look back on when you’re an older woman, like the many I share with you about my years as a young girl. 

I love you, Miss Norah.  I’m so grateful for the ten years of Sunshine I’ve already been given. I cannot wait to see what’s in store.

I’m so glad you’re mine.

Love you most.

-Mom

Randall Lawrence Flesner - Obituary

 Randy Flesner - Obituary

Randall “Randy” Lawrence Flesner, age 54, of Walnut Grove, MN, passed away on December 12, 2023, in Redwood County, Minnesota.  

Randy was born on February 8, 1969, in Tracy, Minnesota, to Lawrence and Leora (Foster) Flesner. He was welcomed home by four older sisters, and a year and a half later, welcomed one more sister into the family.  He was confirmed at Our Savior’s Lutheran Church in Lamberton, MN, and attended Lamberton High School, where he graduated in 1987. He served his country in the National Guard and remained patriotic throughout his life.

Randy met and fell in love with his soulmate, Amy, on April 3, 1991.  They were married on April 3, 1993. Together, they raised beloved “fur babies,” beautiful Siberian Huskies and Malamutes, as well a blue and gold macaw “Joey Bird.”  Although they did not remain married, they continued to be the best of friends throughout the remainder of Randy’s life.

Randy’s family was of incredible importance to him and he made certain to let them know how much he valued them.  He was a wonderful husband, son, brother, uncle, and friend.  Randy loved to have fun with those in his life, from the youngest kiddos to those his senior.  He had a fun, playful nature, quick wit, and a memorable, contagious laugh.  He was quick to lend a helping hand, a listening ear, a huge hug, and so much more if someone he cared about had a need.  He was an absolute treasure to many.

A traveler by nature, Randy spent years as an industrial painter and a union member, where he worked all over the country painting things like bridges and water towers.  He loved his job, and often spoke of his coworkers and adventures.  His colleagues became a chosen family, and he cherished them dearly.  Randy also loved riding motorcycle and exploring the great outdoors.

Randall is survived by his best friend and soulmate, Amy (Christensen) Undine of Lincoln, NE, sisters Debra (Daniel) Turbes of Revere, Anita (Joel Byers) Weber of Milroy, Linda (Guy Vanderwerf) DeSmith of Walnut Grove, Sara (Randy) Panitzke of Mesa, AZ, Susan (Mark) Daniels of Morriston, FL, brothers-in-law Brian Vanderlinden of Sioux City, IA, and Richard Weber of Lamberton, as well as many nieces, nephews, great nieces and nephews, and countless other dear family and friends.  He was preceded in death by his parents, Leora and Lawrence Flesner, sister in infancy, Helen Flesner, sister Katherine Vanderlinden, brother-in-law Gregg DeSmith, niece Carissa DeSmith, grandparents, and numerous aunts, uncles, and friends.

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A Celebration of Life honoring Randy Flesner will be held at 2pm on Saturday, January 20, 2024, at Our Savior’s Lutheran Church, in Lamberton, MN.

In lieu of flowers, the family requests that you make a donation in Randy’s honor to your local organizations, such as the VFW, American Legion, pet shelters and rescues, and churches.  Randy held these close to his heart.

First-teen

 Dearest Spencer,

Here we are again, at the end of another era, the beginning of another milestone, an old familiar, but oh so different place than we were 365 days ago.

Tonight, you close off your first dozen years and you will wake up as an official teenager.

Not kid, not pre-teen, but a teenager.

Wow.

I know I’ve been calling you a “teen” for a few months now and joking about rounding up, but it hits so much harder tonight. 

We have talked many times about how we are both learning as we go, growing as we go, and figuring this journey out together, and it still rings true.  I finally feel like I have a decent grasp on having big kids instead of little kids, instead of toddlers, instead of babies, and here we are, a new juncture, and it’s off to the races as we veer into the years of having teenagers.  You’re the forerunner, obviously.  I hope that the years are good to us, the disagreements and stresses are few and are between, and the laughter and hugs are countless.

Realistically, I know it won’t likely be all wildflowers, sunshine and rainbows, but I pray that it’s more wildflowers, sunshine and rainbows that torrents, deluges, and gale forces. I pray that it’s more dancing than falling, that’s for sure.

It has been such a joy watching you grow and transform before my eyes.  I have been reliving old photos and videos at night lately, thinking about how you were the answer to my biggest prayer- that I could be a momma.  I think about how your blue eyes have sparkled looking back at mine for the past dozen years, and how familiar that is to me, and how it ignites sparks inside my heart.  

Watching your personality blossom has been another treasure to me.  I remember when you were so much younger, and it was harder to tap into “your brave” and there were many things you just wouldn’t do.  There were many things you wouldn’t do alone, but you were braver with me by your side.  I was your steady and your charge when you were hesitant or leery of whatever was going on around you or what was being asked of you.  Your meek, little voice still echoes in my head.

But now… I’ve recently come to the realization that you may be braver without me.  I think about the fact that you were ready and willing to attend three different camps or retreats this past summer, with three different groups of people, in three different states, all without me, all with very little contact to me, and how you flourished and thrived and each one chiseled you into the young man you are turning into, a little bit at a time.  I loved seeing you again for the first time, each time, and how you would come to me, arms wide open, with a huge grin, and tell me you missed me.  It was unexpected each time, but they were threes heaven-sent moments. 

Another thing that has been a delight in regard to those excursions, is hearing other people tell me how wonderful they think you are.  You were reported to be very kind, thoughtful, hilarious, and fun.  Many of us have enjoyed watching you come out of your shell more and more. (As a side note, have I told you that I am so proud of you for starting to let more people “in” on all areas of your life including your thoughts, emotions, fears, joys, and triumphs?  I am.  You have spent many years guarding these parts of yourself, for reasons I do understand, but you’ve been slowly breaking down your walls, and it’s a magnificent thing to experience.)

As I realized these things recently, you and I had a discussion about how you feel more relaxed and open going to youth group nights by yourself, instead of with me there.  Surprisingly enough, it didn’t hurt my feelings at all, but made me so proud of you for your honesty and bravery.  You’ve climbed quite the hill in your years, and it’s amazing to see you reaching the pinnacle and I cannot wait to see where you go when you get closer. I don’t know if one every really reaches the hypothetical summit, but if you do, I’ll be here cheering you on for that as well.

In another side of your personality, I love listening to you experiment with your instruments.  I cannot tell you how big I grinned when I heard you play a little diddy on guitar that sounded like the solo to my favorite song. Your teachers at school all tell me how great you are as well, and that they are proud of you.  I know, personally, music is one of my best friends, like a cozy blanket that understands me no matter what my mood or life circumstance is.  I feel that it may be similar for you as well.  One thing that you possess that I don’t though, is the ability to pull music out of thin air, play by ear, or goof around and have it still sound good. I might be a tiny bit jealous in that aspect. 

Lately, I’ve been trying to give you more independence and trust, inch by inch, because you are older and should be gaining more responsibility and independence as we go along, but sometimes, that’s hard for me, and I apologize if I come off as overprotective or untrusting.  The world we live in continues to change into one that seems crazier and more uncertain than the one I grew up in, and I’m always trying to navigate how that should look so far as parenting goes.  As you know, and have said in the past, I’m pretty much doing it myself, and often I second guess or doubt myself and whether I am doing it right, or good enough, and so forth.  Thank you for being patient with me.  (I will admit, however, that I love the moments where you’re not “too cool” or “too old” to do things that are still whimsical and fun.  Tonight, for example, we had the perfect balance of going trick-or-treating with family, but then the independence to go again on your own for a while.)

With that said, I promise to continue to try to extend my own patience with you. I know there are times when I am less than patient and certainly not perfect in how I approach things.  I joke occasionally about how I was once a middle school or teenage girl, but I was never a middle school or teenage boy, so I don’t always know how to decode what you’re hinting at and I don’t often quite understand what you’re feeling.  I will continue to try to learn the balance between giving you privacy, but also holding you accountable.  Clearly, this stage of our lives is going to be a work in progress, possibly the entire time.

Spencer, I think you’re truly amazing, and the world is so blessed to have you in it.  I have loved watching your faith start growing in different ways, trying new things, and enjoying new experiences.  I loved getting you a Bible this summer, and each time you tell me about a verse or story you’ve found interesting brings me even more joy.  Thank you for what you’re willing to share, and know I understand that a faith life is personal too, and I respect that I cannot and will not always get to know everything.  That’s new to me too.  I’m so used to the little kid information overload that the preteen and teenage withholding feels a bit foreign still.

Thank you for loving like you do.  Thank you for giving me hugs for no reason, out of nowhere, and when I’m sad.  Thank you for all the fun we have in the car going to or from school, and for obliging when I ask too many questions about your day.  Thank you for your wonderful sense of humor that feels so much like my own, and for the respect you show asking if you can tell jokes before just blurting them out.  That probably seems or sounds silly, but it just shows me that you respect boundaries of others.

Thank you for going out of your way to help others, whether it is you giving a little of your spending cash to another student on a trip, or respectfully assisting someone who may be less physically agile due to injury, age, illness, or other reasons.  I have heard accounts of both of these things, and many others, when they’ve happened and I’m not around.  There’s nothing quite like hearing something wonderful your child did when they didn’t need to impress or prove anything to others.  Thank you for holding doors and carrying in one more grocery bag yourself so I don’t have to- without being asked.  

As bittersweet as it is to see you continue to grow up, I am truly excited to see what the future holds.  I don’t want to say goodbye to the childhood years where you need more care than independence, more cuddles than thumbs up, but I know it’s going to be a beautiful thing as you continue to grow older and our relationship starts to take on more friendship qualities as well.  

Thanks for the abundance of random information that you spout out with no rhyme or reason.  Believe it or not, I do the same thing to others.  

I pray this year brings you boundless laughter, new favorite songs, interesting additional friends, and a real sense of who you are, as a child of God, a son of mine, a brother, a grandson, a nephew, and a friend.  You are a delight to me, even on our harder days.  

Love you more,

Mom (not Bruh)

A Familiar Loss of a Different Kind

On Monday, morning, October 9, 2023, my dear friend, Buffy Sue, passed away unexpectedly in her home.

I have lost friends and family before, numerous times.  This loss, however familiar in some ways, is unique and different compared to those in the past.  This feels like new territory in some respects.

During my adolescent years, the internet was just starting to really become common and accessible.  In my tenth grade year, I joined a website for teens with journals, games, polls, messaging, and so forth.  It started out as somewhat of a social experiment in my mind, as well as an exciting way to explore new territory with people my age, all over the globe.  I had a MySpace page, where I found friends and new music, taught myself some basic HTML and photo editing skills, downloaded ICQ and AIM messengers, and continued to make connections.  It didn’t take long before I was fully immersed in the website I first mentioned, making friendships and relationships that many adults at the time would tell you were not and could not ever be real, true, lasting friendships.  It seemed absurd that you could have a relationship with someone you had never met. I grew up in a tiny town with amazing “real-life” friendships, as I would have referred to them at the time.  These online friends were no substitute, they were an addition to my tribe.

That website was the beginning of my online journaling (now called blogging) endeavor, and I wrote almost every day.  At one point, I had journaled every day for one or two years.  I honestly cannot even recall. I had friends that read daily, commented daily, and I reciprocated in their journals.  As we got older, we started chatting, emailing, writing letters, sending text messages, and sometimes even meeting in person.  While it may seem shocking to believe, I have made some of my most trusted friends on that website, and they know me, the real me, and love me in return, and we have had these relationships for twenty-some years.  They’ve been by my side, figuratively speaking, through high school, high school graduation, boyfriend breakups, college, college graduation, engagement, wedding, marriage, infertility, deaths in my family, births of children, betrayal from my husband, divorce, single-parenting, covid, overcoming, and so many more events in my last twenty years.

In 2012, after giving birth to one son in 2010, then losing a pregnancy in 2011, I became pregnant again and was due with our next child in August.  At the time, I was working an in-home daycare with one of my best friends, with a husband who worked long hours out of town and was away a lot.  I joined a pregnancy app on my phone, which came with message boards.  Those message boards were a bit rudimentary, and it wasn’t long after that an August 2012 Momma Facebook group was formed.  So many women around the globe joined that group, and we shared so much of our lives together.  That group still exists, and while it’s not as frequently utilized, we mommas are there and we still love each other.  Some have been fortunate enough to meet in person, and many of us developed deeper side friendships with mommas we really connected with, and have kept in touch in multiple other ways.  When we had our babies, we were there.  When they turned one, we were there.  When we have had triumphs and joys, we were there.  When lives turned unexpectedly upside down, we were there.  It is a core group that you know is going to be there even if it’s been a year and you need to rant about something related to motherhood, you need prayers or advice for any other topic, or you’re in a crisis and you don’t know what to do.  It’s been such a joy watching our children grow up together, even if we are not physically together.

This momma group is where I met Buffy Sue.  

Buffy Sue was absolutely my closest friend in that group.  She brought me such joy.  Her laughter was contagious and when she would get laughing, I may not even understand really what she was laughing about (because sometimes she would be laughing so hard her words didn’t sound comprehensible) but it would get me laughing, too.  She gave great advice when I needed it.  She said stupid funny things when I needed comic relief.  She sent me pictures and videos of herself and her daughters frequently.  She told me all about her coffee shop, when things were going well, when things would unexpectedly break down and cause messes, when things were going splendidly, all of it.  I always told her I wished she could deliver MY coffee, but joked that it would probably taste a little funky by the time it arrived, so she would just have to drink what I would order in my honor.  She blessed my children and I in big  and little ways, from surprises in the mail, to silly letters, and much, much more.  She helped me see straight through tears of confusion and anger when my marriage was falling apart.  She reminded me how strong I was, and how I was never really going crazy even if I thought it might be the case.  She encouraged and supported all my creative endeavors.  She was a champion for everyone she loved and so many other she barely even knew.  She would do anything she could to better someone’s life- not just mine.  I tried my very best to do the same for her in her life, and I can only pray that I made an as much an impact on her as she did on me.  As I’ve been reading tributes to her online, I am blown away, but also not really surprised, by the impact she made on her community, but even further, around the world.

When I read last night that she was gone, it felt like I was being punched in the chest.  I turned off my phone screen multiple times, feeling like I was just imagining what the screen said.  When I realized it was true, I wept quietly in my room, away from my sons.

You see, they didn’t really know Buffy.  They knew of her, because I would show them videos or photos sometimes when they’d ask what was so funny, but they never really met her.

That’s when I realized, in a way, I had never really met her, either.  Well, not in person, anyway.

That thought struck me in the strangest way, as I then wrestled with my own thoughts.  That lasted much of the night, and I cried myself to sleep, still feeling sort of strange to be feeling as sad as I was.

Today is my day off from work, so after I took my two littles to elementary school, my oldest and I carried out our day-off tradition.  I drive him across town to middle school, but on our way, we stop at a coffee shop of his choosing, and we play “coffee roulette” where I let him order a drink for me (so long as it is not straight up black coffee or espresso) and he chooses a bakery item for himself.  When we were picking up our items from the drive through window, I started to feel tears welling up in my eyes.  As we pulled away, I blurted out to him, “one of my online momma friends died this week.”

He was stunned.  He stared at me for a moment before he said “that is so tragic and I am really sorry, mom.”

I told him how I didn't want to burden them with my loss, and how I nearly broke down this morning when I realized if I sent her the goofy Snapchat photo I was sending some friends of our cat trying to get involved in non-cat-related activities she wouldn't ever open it anyway.

I began to tell him about Buffy and all of her great qualities.  I told him how she was really “Steve the Elf” a couple years ago who sent us tickets to For King and Country’s Christmas concert locally.  He laughed about it a while and then told me how she sounded so cool and it made all the sense in the world that we were friends.

“We really were friends,” I said, trailing off a little.  

I finally began talking aloud about all the conflicting thoughts I had been feeling the night prior- how could I possibly be so sad when I had never even been in the same room as her?  How could I be devastated knowing I wouldn’t get to hug her in person when we still hadn’t had that chance?  How could she possibly have left such a lasting impression on me when she was so far away?  

He and I then talked about how it absolutely makes sense that I was so sad.  She was real.  She was a real friend. She knew me better than many people.  Just because we had never been in the same place geographically, she was with me so often, in a few second spurts, day in and day out.  We shared each other’s triumphs.  We shared sorrow when her dad died.  We laughed when we would say or do stupid things.  We shared music.  We shared a friendship.

He and I then had a great talk about how you really can create life-long, true, deep relationships with people you have never met, but how you also have to be careful in letting people online into your life sometimes, especially with sensitive information.

I explained how I have two groups of real-life-online-friends, those who are still in my life from high school, and those who came into my life as a momma, and are still in my life today.  He knows I have amazing friendships with some of these.  He began asking me questions about many of them, and I got to tell him stories about how one friend and I would write a fiction blog about a world where we were actually together, and another friend and I would fill up a notebook with multiple letters before sending it off, and how I met one in Nashville, and stayed with one in Brooklyn, and met up with two in Omaha, and one came to Sioux Falls.

He told me I was a really great friend.  He wiped away my tears and reminded me he loved me.

As he got out of the car and I drove away, the song “Banks” by Needtobreathe came on the car stereo, and it brought me right back to Buffy, and the type of life she lived and the way she loved fiercely.

I was watching the sun rise above the trees, alone again with my thoughts and my sorrow.  I had finished my coffee, and remembered that my favorite local coffee drink, the Honey Bee Latte, was half price at that time in the morning, and I had enough pocket change in my cup holder to stop and grab one. I wasn’t quite ready to go home and sit with my thoughts yet, because my emotions were still swirling.  So, I stopped and ordered my favorite, one I had told Buffy about long ago, and decided to go to the outdoor campus here in town and go for a walk.  I dove deeper into my thoughts and emotion and decided that I needed to write.

I always find that I need to write.

This time, it was a little different.

I realized that I could search all over for a physical place where I felt my friend and I were together, but when it came down to it, the living room of our friendship was really the internet.  It was in writing, mostly.  I knew I needed to come sit on the virtual couch of our friendship and feel the emptiness in that room, and embrace the love I had for her in this life, through the screen in front of me.   I walked a couple of miles until my coffee was gone, with the gentle wind blowing through the trees, thinking about the songs she might send my way on a day like this, what joke she would make, and if her Honey Bee Latte would be even tastier.  I believe it would have been, no contest.  

So here I am, writing my heart out, wondering what she would say if she saw all of these words before us.  She would downplay her own significance for a while, but tell me how much she loved me, and turn it right around and build me up, because that’s what kind of champion she was.

This sorrow I feel is like that of any other friend or family I’ve lost, but different in that unfamiliar ache of the in-person hug I won’t get on this side of heaven.  As I sit through the grief, I realize this won’t be the first time on this path, because I am so blessed someday, potentially (unless I go, first) lose many more I love so deeply in this way.

My sorrow must only be a fraction of the sorrow felt by her mother, her siblings, her husband, her beautiful daughters, and her countless friends.  I’ll be thinking of them often and praying for their piece as they live out the immeasurable grief I’m sure they must be feeling.  I’ll continue to read the tributes to her online, and count myself so fortunate to have a treasure like her in my lifetime.  

I know you’re singing with the angels, Buffy, love.

Until someday,

-Me