Letting go… and Letting them Grow.

A wise mother once said: Life is about letting go.

EVERY DAY.

Watching our sons leave the fan section – to wear a jersey. I’m letting go.

Charging the football field for the first time. This letting go hurts.
And who ever said my son didn’t have hops? He’s blocking punts. I’m filling with pride.

As I hear myself hollering too loud, I watch from the corner of my eye… a beautiful young girl walking by. She’s wearing my son’s jersey. So, I’m forced to let go.

Life is about letting them take a hit.
And knowing our kids will fall. Sometimes hard. Sometimes they can’t get back up.

I’m forced to watch my strong son limp into the emergency room. On his own.
While I walk behind pushing an empty wheelchair. I feel broke. He’s hanging on.

He can barely support his weight.
He wobbles. His knee looks wrong. Something is very wrong.
I study his expression, but he does not show his pain. I only see determination.

We smalltalk. About his team. Their mission. Their vision. Their need… for each other.

We talk about it takes to be a team player. unselfishness. dedication. resilience. a positive spirit. talent.

Then, we talk about his future.
The nurse forces him into the wheelchair. he finally gives in.

I hear the doctor say something about his ligaments.
No weight bearing. Torn. Surgery.
His season is most likely done.

This time, my son is letting go to an athlete’s dream.
We’re both letting go.

We search to hang onto something! Each other.

We talk all the way home.
We grab lunch, and play cards as we eat.
Ignoring emails. Ignoring the phone.

Instead of putting our clothes into baskets, we’re putting that time into each other.
Just simply being there.
Together. Hanging on.

Watching movies.
Working on projects.

“You know Mom, you really don’t need to sit here all day,” he said.

I grinned. He had no idea how much I loved this!!!

I’m hanging on. To the teenage boy who is so busy, I just follow his dirty clothes.
I’m desperately hanging onto the boy who goes from one athletic season to another.
From the field, to the court, to the diamond. We let him go.

I’m holding tight to the days we read books and played in the dirt.
We’d race inside for science projects and board games. Cookies and Koolaid.
I’m clinging to the days we’d rock all day. Together.

I’m hanging on to the days I could kiss him goodnight, and he didn’t mind.

When your son can only stand on one leg, yet walks his way with his head held high- his mental game is strong. Letting go is a good thing.

It’s much easier to let go of today – when you are filled with great hope in tomorrow!

LET THEM GO to GROW.

My BLOG Is MOVING!!!

hello my dear loyal followers!!!

Exciting news!! I’m moving – but I don’t have to pack! (that’s the best kind of move!)

My blog will now be found at katiedilse.com under the blog tag! I hope you love, love, love reading it as much as I love to write it!

From Dad to Mr. Mom

He’d be the first to admit – Mom took care of the kids, and he worked.

But, I’m good with that.

Hard work was his saving grace.
The grace that got him through becoming a single Dad.

Ed is a farmer. A lover of land.

Most often we saw him dirty. He’d scrub and rub to get the permanent-soil tattoos off his face. Then, clean the dirt out of his nose. It was Dad’s thing.

Work all day, and get up early, and do it again.

He’d pull out a tractor, and start to fix.
He’d spend the next three days fixing.
But, when his crop got rain, all 8 of us would pile in the big family van. Headed to the swimming pool!
Throwing us high, and watching us fall.

He’d plant. He’d harvest.
He’d buy pigs, and turn around and sell them.
He’d teach us to budget, and reluctantly hand over a $10.

Work made him happy, so he did it A LOT.
UNTIL… he had to really get to know his kids again.
The two-parent balance – fell on his shoulders.
We saw changes.

Cooking more meals.
Attending more high school games.
Buying clothes.
Sorting socks.
Talking about the tough stuff.
Grieving.
Taking. time.
Making. time.
Saying “I love you.”

Soon, he was meeting grandchildren.
Planning his retirement.
And moving south.

Sure, this single Dad stumbled in his new shoes.
But, he stayed on the path.
He let us see him cry.
And, we always watched for his smile.

A Dad is really about loving.
Showing us how much he loved Mom, by going on.
Loving, laughing, learning. Losing.
Leaving the past behind.
LIVING today.

Reshaping our ride with a sledge hammer

One sledge hammer.
One demolition car.
And eight boys.

Oh, the damage.
To wreck, and not get reprimanded!
I insisted.

An old beater car was parked in front of the city’s convience store asking us to donate for a chance to “hit” cancer. With a sledge hammer. These baseball brutes ripped and roared with excitement!

“This one’s for my Mom.” A meek teenager grasped the heavy sledge hammer and pounded in the driver’s door.

The young man’s demeanor changed.
His coloring, paled.
His expression, intensed.
His soul was on fire.

He grabbed that hammer like it was a baseball bat, and relentlessly put an end to cancer- at least return the low blow.

He threw the eight-pound sledge hammer over his shoulders and wailed on the roof of the car.

The crunching metal instantly changed.
Like he’s adjusted to his Mom without hair.

With all his might, he went after the rearview mirror.
He never wanted to look back at the summer she lived at a cancer center. crunch

Smashing the door, under his breath he muttered “For my Mom.”
Many miles, many years and tears with him in the passenger seat while his family navigates unmapped territory.

Each crunch brought healing.
He and all the sluggers around him wanted to flatten something that has affected each of them. All of us.

They took turns passing the hammer – their torch – of opportunity.
With each blow, they remembered someone who has fought and won, or lost.

They faced their fears. Frustrations. Anxieties.
They crushed all of that, and more.

The demolition was not a derby – but a real fight the kids were tired of losing.

They hit – holding back nothing.
They slammed – with great purpose.
As if they could indentifiy the cell – and kill it.

With each blow, their masculinity shined.
Their budding muscle-bumps were really getting a workout.
They could feel their power – in and out.

Around that demolished pink car, those Little League sluggers became a team.

They cheered and high fived. They wiped tears with their batting gloves.
“We’re hitting the ball tonight like its cancer,” one slugger called.

When they took the field, they fought hard.
Five innings.
Extra innings.
A long game. A long journey.
They were exhausted. Some wanted to quit.
But, they persevered. Through sweat, dehydration, bad calls, and dirt in their faces.

In the outfield, their teamwork was brilliant!
The moment came when the game-winning pop-up hung in the air – as time stood still. The baseball started to fall, in the middle of three sluggers, it graced, but rolled out of our 2nd basemen’s mitt and onto the ground. Their runner ran from 3rd base to home plate. Their team jumped in celebration. We hung our heads. Game over. That battle was lost.

But, next week they have another chance.
Another game. Another journey.
They will face it with bravery and newfound energy.

And, hopefully this test will have the results they’re looking for.

The WIN.

How Driving Miss Halie began!

Hang on tight! This fast-paced world is brimming with opportunity!
We race to get where we’re going… and race to get home!
We pile our speeding tickets in a drawer.

But, when cancer rings – everything stops.
To listen.

At my end of the receiver were four young boys who needed their Mom.
At the other end, a devastated friend.

Embracing her life-changing news, this friend became a hero. Grasping faith. Holding onto hope. Optimistic.
We all smiled. We all cried.

Quickly we rallied.
She had a freezer of food –
drivers for chemo –
friends to sit with her –
a supportive work staff –
a family of love.

As a busy Mom, I had to think unconventional.

So begins: “Driving Miss Halie”

Driving: the hero’s daughter…

She’s sweeter than a pan of brownies…
She’s as wholesome as a truest friend…
She’s honest. Pure.
She needed a distraction. I needed her!
So we drive. Together.

It’s our Wednesday ritual.

We forget about cancer.
We forget about worry.

(I take that back, we worry about the sunroof. Open or closed!)

We roll the windows down. We roll them up.
We play the music loud. We sing even louder!
We dance behind the wheel. We share a pretend microphone.
And. oh. do. we. laugh!!!!

We cruise to meetings and to the grocery store.
We cruise to church. and she helps me sing.
We bake. Together.
We swing through the bank drive-thru. just to spread love!
We hang out in the car wash. just to see the purple bubbles.
We drive semi. so she can blow the horn. And I can see her react!

Finding the right words, or the best way to help a friend in need – takes one thing.
Our hearts.
When we live and we give from there – we’re truly gifting.

If you love cooking: then take a warm meal.
If visiting is your thing: then stop in.
If your faith is your guide: then pray together.
If you life is already full to the brim: find something that works for you.

Whatever you do…
Just do something.

Then… do a little bit more.
Stretch your comfort zone.
Live deeper.
Take risks.

It’s not just cancer patients who need our help.
Oklahoma tornado victims. New Moms. Retired nurses. Teachers. Ministers. Shift workers. Health care providers. Nursing home residents. New people in our communities. High School graduates. Preschoolers.

It’s the hearts who are hurting. It’s the hurt in us.
We must reach out… and give. We must accept.

With an outstretched hand, you can hold so much!
You hold the opportunity to love deeper than you ever thought imaginable! And… watch your world brim with joy, with love, with gratefulness, with fullness!

Instead of feeling caught in a whirlwind life, you’ll feel the wind at your back – pushing you to live your very best life.

It’s the kind of wind that puts our sails in motion!

So… Open up – and let the sunshine in!

Mother’s Day… with my 5 Guys. So blessed.

Two tubes of used lip gloss. The permanent ink was worn off. The applicator bent. But, it was wrapped with a bow.

Given from his heart.

It was the annual “teacher’s cleaning their desks” rummage sale – and the boys had packed cash. A lot of cash. They cleaned their piggy banks, and there were inter-loans within the home. They were on a mission.

And I was the lucky recipient!

They set the stage for the perfect Mother’s Day. They’d talked about it for weeks, and it seemed all 5 of my guys were in on it. And to be quite honest, I’d looked forward to it for 365 days! I love that day!!! Don’t you Moms?

We devote our lives into our kids.
We make their hearts part of ours.
We give and give… and give deeper yet. To the point of collapse.

We marvel when they make choices – the right ones.
And we’re there to guide them through the wrong ones.

My sons are so tightly wound within my heart – its hard to let them go.
To school. To the park. To a sleepover. To camp. To driver’s ed.

But, they are simply a gift. From God. And its up to us to savor every minute with them.

To accept the used lip gloss, brush it on our lips, and put it in our purse.

To wear the homemade crown. To the park? When we pick up our kids from school? To work?

I just know, we must keep the crown. In a very safe spot. Because it says the words Moms love to hear: “World’s Greatest Mom.”

So many times I’ve wept at my Mother’s grave.
I’ve vowed to miss church on Mother’s Day because I know I’ll just weep there, too.

I stay away from the Hallmark section during May.
Once, I made the mistake, and my tears ran.
But, the lady next to me was holding that tear-stained card, and she understood.
She’s been there. She actually ended up holding me, too.

Moms teach us young ladies how to be the “World’s Greatest Mom.”
She showed patience.
She taught me how to drive a grain truck, and was there when I over filled it.

She showed unconditional love.
She taught me to always take a stand, but picked me up from detention.

She tried to teach us self control.
But, it was ok to sneak rolos from her candy cupboard. She’s said chocolate does wonders.

She made us feel worthy.
She taught me how to apply makeup, but said I’m more beautiful without it.

So… for me and my guys.

He’ll be driving soon. I’m ready.

I’ll hold his hand as long as he lets me. Right now he loves it, but I know that will change.

I’ll play baseball, basketball, and football. I usually catch balls with my face.

We’ll check for loose teeth. Because he’s still my baby.

I wear the pink lip gloss – just a light coat.
I’ll take them for ice cream – on special occassions.
We’ll teach them to be independent – and the growing pains independence brings.
But together, we will grow.

And I will love their father with my whole heart. He’s really easy to love! And, Father’s Day is just around the corner!

Dirt…. dirty… we need more AXE!

“Why did Grandpa have to die?”
“How many seconds in a year?”
“How many Super Bowls have the Falcons won?”
“How deep are the roots of a 20 foot tall tree?”
“What is Europe like?”
“Why isn’t she nice to me?”
“Mom, he makes me feel awkward. I don’t know how to talk to him.”

In a 20 minute window – they fired all of these questions! BIG picture observations. In a fast-paced world, it’s tough to create the right place for kids. Somewhere they can really talk. So you can get to what’s on a kids’ mind, or what concerns them.

Creating an environment without pressure. A place they are not rushed. Or distracted. Where they feel open to talk, but not cornered.

Engaging brains… and creating space for the tough conversations. We do it on the farm.

They are so busy, they forget we’re working on their hearts. Not just the job ahead of us.

No video games. No phone interruptions. Just us. And a little dirt.

You only need one thing: a rake. or a hoe.

The best conversations happen in the pumpkin patch. In the tractor. In the garden. Driving semi. Or cleaning closets.

It’s asking, “hey, you’re terribly crabby. What’s up?”

“I miss Dad,” one of the little Guys say.

I agree. It’s springs work on the farm – long days, short nights. “So do I, but you don’t have to pounce on your brother. It won’t get Dad home any sooner.” suddenly, he gets it.

The real dirt on raising kids: its not easy. But. With the right fertilizer and favorable conditions, the crop will surpass all of your greatest yield dreams!

Get rid of the weeds. the bad influences
Water often. spend time together
Watch for identifiable diseases.you know the dangers
Keep your eye out for pesty rodents. usually, you can smell them
Cultivate your soil. your future
Plant good seeds. watch them grow

18 wheels… and a dozen reasons I shouldn’t drive TRUCK!

It wasn’t Needles Highway… but it felt like it! A daunting drop off on either side… my green semi and I. Like dangling a hippopotamus on a tightrope!

With 18 WIDE wheels, one lone trail, and a crazy driving history… I was scared.

White knuckles, I grabbed the oversized steering wheel. How fitting: I’m wearing “I fell in love with a John Deere boy” on my t-shirt. I adjusted the air-ride seat. Guess I’m fit to drive a rig.

“Don’t drive in the track… ride the ridge. If you don’t, you’ll wreck the truck,” my farmer instructed.

Ride the ridge? I don’t even know where my tires are! I know they’re under the semi – but exactly where? My mind was picturing… somewhere within a 3 foot area – but my tires needed to fit unto a small 18 inch ridge. this is not good. it’s bad.

My driving record flashed! Taking a corner too tight and hanging my rig in mid-air. only 16 wheels touching earth. 18 were supposed to.

What about the traffic jam I caused? And… the fence I wrapped around the plow? How do I get myself in these predicaments? glancing at my t-shirt… I remember.

It’s spring planting. Hectic. Time-crunched. Adrenaline-driven. Stretched-to-the-limits. So the world can eat.
My farmer needs me, and I want to help.

Balancing on the narrowing ridge I shifted into low. Two-miles. I can do this. How long can two miles really take? (Just ask a beginning runner.) The drive felt like 200 miles.

I carefully… ever-so-slowly… took the rig down the needle. Like a cooked spaghetti noodle in a confining cardboard box, I tried to maintain my rigid, determined spirit.

The most intense driving of my life. I was sweating. Profusely. I was cursing. Everything.

“I’d rather drive 500 miles in a white-out blizzard, than drive that road with this rig again,” I yelled! I pulled the parking break. Leaving that nasty green machine in the dust.

At least for the day.

But tomorrow, I’ll try it again.
I’ll jump behind the wheel, smile wide, and give it another spin!
All… because I fell in love with a farm boy!

Red carpet runway… for the kiddos

Elegance… “kindergarten-style”…  is true elegance.

Boys who extend their arms, gratifying “ladies first.”
Boys who pull their chairs out for their dates.
Guys who hold the doors for the girls.
Boys properly asking girls for a dance.

You may shake your head at the old fashioned flare. But this Mama’s so happy to find teachers who take the time to teach elegance in our schools!

Teaching through unforgettable experiences.

Kids walk the red carpet. Pose. Smile for nearly 50 lens vying for the perfect shot. Elementary girls scream like Bieber is in house!

“First grader Natalie… escorted by second grader Michael.” Then the kids, feeling like celebrities, walk into a classroom transformed into an whimsical splendor.

This is Elegant Day. Toasting the letter E and Everything Excellent, Entertaining, and Extraordinary.

Dressing in your best, and behaving like gentleman.
Manners: please, thank you, and “you look lovely”.
Delicate foods: chewing with your mouths closed.
Napkins: are to be used.
New foods: deserve a chance!

This day of practical application has more value than any class can offer.

When we take the 5 guys off the farm – and into the city –  new demands are in place. We simply say, “This is just like Elegant Day.” We get results! Free desserts because their manners are superior.  Strangers stop and notice. Waitresses write notes on our napkins. The lessons stick. The attitudes change. The manners appear. Because they’ve learned in kindergarten – what they need to know as men.

Oh…. and not all waitresses have loved us. For many years – a $25 tip would hardly suffice because: three high chairs and one kind on the loose is overwhelming; macaroni and cheese  smeared on wallpaper is not appetizing; and tables that look like tornadoes are not cool.

But, thanks to Elegant Day, you’ll stand by our table and hear 5 guys with lots of “may I’s”, “please”, and “thank yous.”

And for all the headaches and fights and nagging and reminders it takes to get to that point……………..“You’re Welcome!” 🙂

It’s a new day: let’s run.

Does a singer need a Country Music Award to be a “star?”  Do we have to win a race to be a “runner”?

My P.R. is mine – but nothing to brag about. My split isn’t negative. 50-state runner’s club: not a member. I may never run a full. But, I’ve logged hundreds of S-L-O-W miles. I’m a Mom who loves to run!

I stay outside of the circle of being called a “runner.” I reserved it for the fast ones. The athletic. the graceful. the chiseled muscled humans. For just about anyone – but me.

After Boston’s tragedy –  many people, like this Mom,  with great pride stepped into the runner’s circle.  The worldwide runner’s family.

Like the burning muscles after a long run, our hearts tightened for the loved ones on the sidelines, and the ones who were steps from completing their marathon – their journey. And the ones who were hoping to make their personal history.

The fans are a runner’s life line. Our energy. Our push. Strangers become encouragers. So many times, they understand the sacrifice and months of dedication it takes to cross the line. The aching muscles, the euphoria.

Crying at the news at the Boston finish line, and begging for answers…  my legs twitched.  Burning for a good run. Go out. Run far. Run faster than yesterday. Run for them. Run for the brokenness of the world! Go run… 

We run for change. We run for a better tomorrow.

Digging deep… we will keep running!  to remember. to resolve. to restore. to recreate a beautiful love for the finish line.

We are RADIATING RUNNERS with a remarkable resilience.

*** We’re always looking for more members of our runner’s family! If this Mommy can do it…. anyone can!!!!