Results in on 2009 New Years Resolution

One year ago, I penned a column outlining my New Year’s resolution to implement Kaizan principles of continuous improvement in my home. The idea behind Kaizan is that small, daily improvements carried out in every job or function eventually accumulate into large gains.

For me, I wanted to gain time and lose frustration and stress by improving the functionality of our home and family.

Throughout the year I have read a few books for ideas. I’ve quizzed my friends. I’ve held rummage sales, passed things down, and worn a path to the drop-off window at Seeds of Hope to purge our “gently” used treasures.

I have lost my way and given up hope many times, usually in the morning when homework papers, permission slips, filling water bottles, finding library books, packing backpacks and securing healthy, portable snacks turns our kitchen into a mini-monsoon of barking bodies.

Despite the strong forces against my little resolution, I kept at it. Sometime this fall I realized I was making progress. So with only two squares remaining on the 2009 calendar, I thought I’d share some of my most effective changes and discoveries with other homemakers who might be swimming in their own sea of chaos.

1. Letting go: I’ve given up on perfection. I can clean the bathroom sink and toilet in two minutes every day, but it might take me a month to find 45 minutes to scrub the room until it shines. I now opt for the two minutes and call it good. Who needs a spotless house? Functional, tidy and peaceful can be achieved with a little dust under the rugs.

2. De-clutter: One of the best concepts I embraced is that you can’t organize clutter. So, I am constantly (daily) removing clutter from the places it loves to collect: our kitchen desk, kitchen table, back entry, laundry room and bedside tables. I put it away, throw it away or send it to the storage room.

For big projects like closets, play rooms or storage rooms, I grab a box, set the timer for 15 minutes and find 27 items to eliminate. Doing this a few times really beats ignoring your family for a whole day while you empty, sort and reorganize a room full of mostly unnecessary stuff.

3. Spread the Work: A couple times a month we do a “Family Clean.” The first person picks everything off the floors and puts misplaced items in a box. The next one dusts. The third vacuums. And the last person puts everything back in its place. Our team goes from room-to-room and is able to clean the entire house in 2 hours.

4. Routines: By far, the most important, small change for me has been the creation of some daily and weekly routines: morning and bedtime routines, regular times for laundry, watering plants, changing sheets, planning meals, paying bills, running errands, preparing for school, reading homework, taking vitamins. Making time for all of these necessary tasks eliminates surprises, reduces stress and makes a lot more time for fun.

The source for the best of these ideas, especially techniques for de-cluttering and establishing routines, is The Flylady. Her book, “Sink Reflections” is full of ideas as is her blog at flylady.net.

This remains a work in progress, but that’s as it should be. Afterall, it’s called continuous improvement. So I have a rather dramatic new challenge for 2010 that promises even bigger gains on my modest beginnings. Stay tuned!

A Little Tiger and Britney in All of Us

My kids were captivated recently by a TV show featuring Connie Talbot. She’s the “Britain’s Got Talent” superstar who, as a darling, six year old won over the crowd and judges with her angelic version of “Over the Rainbow.”

Today, at the seasoned age of 8, Connie’s mom and an army of marketers have capitalized on her talent - and innocence. She has recorded several CDs, her own PBS holiday special, a jewelry line, video games and more.

Watching this child’s performance I couldn’t hold back my cynicism. “Hmm,” I said loudly. “I wonder where we’ll be seeing this little girl in 10 years.”

I hate to be a naysayer, but I’m tired of watching kids skyrocket to fame when they should be focused on growing up, and then struggling through adulthood with life-threatening addictions because they didn’t.

I envisioned Britney Spears, dripping with money, spoiled beyond imagine, and utterly miserable.

She had the means to go anywhere, do anything and buy whatever pleased her at any moment. When she was on tour, Spears was known to send her jet across country to secure coffee from her favorite L.A. coffee shop.

Her money could buy her a beautiful body, clothes, hair and toys, but it couldn’t deliver the one thing she needed most: peace.

Tiger Woods is the most recent childhood superstar whose life built on a seemingly indestructible fortress of sporting excellence is crumbling. I have been a Tiger fan for years, so learning the truth about the man behind the image has been a real disappointment.

To be fair, Tiger earned his reputation by being the best golfer on Earth not for his insights on character, family or values. Fans like me inferred, with the help of sponsors and promoters, the all-around “good guy” image we wanted to believe was part of the package.

What’s most disturbing about Tiger is the commentary he offers on human nature. All the respect, admiration, goodwill, trophies, praise and money he earned were somehow not enough. He had a gorgeous wife, two adorable kids and still sought to fulfill the unmet needs of his ego or sex drive with random female acquaintances.

It’s tempting to condemn the likes of Tiger and Britney for their failures and extravagances, and I have. Yet it occurs to me we are all a bit like them.

In many of our families, we juggle two careers or multiple jobs to afford bigger homes, nicer furniture, fancier cars. We invest heavily in ourselves and search for more toys or gifts or activities to make our kids happy. We strive for promotions and awards, often climbing the professional ladder on the backs of our family and friends.

Rarely do we say, “Now we have enough.” Like Tiger and Britney, there always seems to be more to have or desire. And the ongoing quest for it blinds us from the peace we could experience with a simpler life, from the joy found not in possessions but in relationships with the people who fill our lives.

Christmas is a just one week away. This season, more than any, offers the promise of peace and joy. May we refrain from the last minute activities that will prevent us from receiving it and stop long enough to soak it in.

Merry Christmas!

M-E-R-C-Y Spells Relief

This summer, I got in a big tussle with my husband Mike over the planning and coordinating of household projects and personal schedules. I can’t really remember the details. What I do remember is the tension that filled our car as all of us drove out to a friend’s lake cabin to spend one of the few beautiful Saturdays of the summer.

Traveling east out of Bismarck, I knew I needed to apologize, but I dreaded doing it and wasn’t sure how to start. Finally, I just said, “I’m sorry.” Just a few minutes after uttering those words the scuffle was over, the tension was gone. We were free to enjoy the rest of a fun day. What a relief.

This story had a happy ending largely because of the mercy Mike readily offered to me.

I’ve been thinking about mercy lately and what a desirable trait it is.

Mercy is vital to parenting, and hard to come by sometimes like at bedtime with overtired children who won’t give their overtired mom a break by going to sleep peacefully. Or with little boys who insist on wrestling in Target or Perkins or the pews in church. Or with a four-year-old who talks REALLY LOUD all the time to be sure he’s heard in the event he is interrupted (which he often is.)

Parents need a fountain of mercy to nurture the clumsy, compulsive, curious and tender hearts of their kids.

Mercy is also essential to good marriages and friendships. Everyone screws up and does things that are mean, selfish or arrogant at times. For any relationship to last and grow, mercy from both people involved must be in steady supply.

Perhaps one of the areas where mercy is most lacking today is in relationships with ourselves. We are ruthless in our personal judgments, obsessing on our physical flaws or financial shortcomings -- our nose is too big, hips are too wide, chest is too small, house is too modest, clothes are too dated. We dwell on mistakes we’ve made or compare ourselves to others who appear to be more put together or accomplished.

We can be merciless on ourselves for our failures or differences.

Considering how important mercy is in our lives, it’s too bad this trait isn’t more popularly pursued. Mercy sounds sort of old fashioned and “churchy” -- something you might read in the Bible or hear about on Sundays not something to cultivate like discipline, youth, or wealth.

Perhaps that’s because being merciful really challenges us. It doesn’t always come naturally and some might equate being merciful to being weak. It’s tough being merciful because it forces us to be humble and overlook distasteful faults in ourselves and others.

Mercy comes from those who are secure, compassionate and brave. How different our world and our community would be if we challenged ourselves to be more merciful with each other every day, at home, at work, with our colleagues and competitors, friends and enemies and with ourselves.

Insecurities might fade. Grudges and petty judgments would disappear. We would all be more free – free to enjoy what’s good in others and ourselves. What a relief.

Resurrecting a Lost Art: Send them Outside

My mom made donuts with my kids last week. We like cheap thrills at our house, and homemade donuts are about the cheapest thrill around. Warm, deep-fried dough dipped in sugar -- delicious.

We ate them as fast as grandma pulled them out of the fryer. She often made donuts for us when we were growing up, and told of my oldest brother John who would smell the donuts frying from outside and bring his friends in to load up.

They would spread their fingers, hang a donut ring around each one and race back outside to romp around. They probably burned off their five-donut snack before dinner.

This image got me thinking about modern boys. Sadly, the smell of baked goods wouldn’t lure many kids today from outside but from playing video games in the next room. They would likely gobble up the fatty snacks and plop back down for a couple more hours of screen time before dinner.

Video games are like crack for boys. I don’t know how or why, but Wii can change my soccer playing, bug collecting, kite flying, bike riding 6-year-old into a whiney, intolerable junkie obsessed with getting his next “fix” in front of the screen.

Television, computers and video games offer an easy path to peace in our homes, but they come at a big cost to our kids. A recent report conducted by the Colorado-based Outdoor Foundation shows that an increasing number of Americans participated in nature-based, outdoor activities in 2008. Great news.

However, outdoor activity for one critical group – children ages 6 to 17 – continues to decline. Down 8 percent in 2008, which follows an 11 percent decline the previous year.

Our kids are starved for fresh air. So I wonder, why do we so often leave our easiest, cheapest and best parenting tool tucked in the back of the closet? Going outside is a great solution to so many parenting challenges. Bored? Tired? Hungry? Crabby? Fighting with your siblings? Get outside.

Fresh air, unfiltered light and the freedom of being outdoors offers a powerful potion for the human spirit. It reboots children – and adults -- energizes us and provides a new perspective.

Scientists have studied the affects of outdoor activities on children. We’ve heard them before, but another look might strengthen our resolve to push our kids outside as the weather turns cold. Here are just a few of the many proven benefits:
• Decreased stress, anxiety and obesity.
• Improved motor skills, cognitive functioning and creativity.
• Development of healthy lifelong habits and hobbies.
• Reduced symptoms of Attention Deficit Disorder.
• Strengthened family relationships.
• Greater appreciation for nature and wildlife.

Today was a flawless fall day, and I spent most of it in a small, windowless office. The sun was starting to set when I arrived home but I was determined to capture a few minutes of fresh air. Thankfully, my kids didn’t resist.

We crossed the street and wandered around a (dwindling) parcel of vacant prairie north of our house. We walked through “Sunrise Crater,” climbed a couple hay bales and played a bit of football. It was a lovely evening and we stayed out long enough to watch the sunset.

Walking home by moonlight, one of the kids pointed to the sky and yelled, “First star. Make a wish.” A few steps later, my four year old said, “I wished that we can come here again tomorrow.”

Now, there’s a wish I know I can make come true. Maybe we’ll bring a handful of grandma’s donuts.

A Simple Bounty

Simplicity is “in” these days, at least in theory. In homes and offices, the word beckons from walls and knick-knacks urging us to “simplify.”

I’ve write often about simplifying. It’s an illusive goal, not easily achieved in our world of materialism and multitasking. We try to reduce, reuse and recycle, then head to Wal Mart to buy stuff to organize our stuff.

Despite an overwhelming number of failures, I achieved a small victory in simplifying this summer without even trying.

I became a farmer – an urban farmer. Inspired by my endlessly talented friend Becky and her handy hubby Leo, they helped us turn a previously useless hill in our backyard into our own little 8 X 14 farmer’s market.

People used to garden to produce the food they needed to survive. Now we don’t have time to garden – we’re too busy working to buy the food we need to survive.

This weekend, as we harvested our last bounty, I was reminded of the simple thrills this little patch of dirt created for our family.

The first thrill was watching our seeds sprout in the warmth of our sunniest room while snow and wind held us captive all spring. We cheered the day an infant tomato reached the roof of its mini greenhouse.

Planting was the second big thrill. I spent an entire evening kneeling beside my daughter and sprinkling seeds in the dirt. Neither of us knew what we were doing, but that didn’t matter.

A few weeks later, lettuce emerged and generated our third big thrill. We proudly shared this with grandparents and neighbors, multiplying these thrills exponentially. The kids delivered bags of fresh green leaves as if they were gold.

Yellow blossoms on tomatoes, cucumbers, peas and watermelon generated more thrills. The fact that those plain little flowers transform into big tasty vegetables is a rather impossible proposition. Our kids didn’t believe it would happen.

So when it did, and cute cucumbers, tiny tomatoes and mini watermelon appeared, we were thrilled again. For the rest of the summer, we savored the fruits of this garden. My son and I hid from the others to share the first perfectly ripe tomato. “Mom, can I go pick peas,” our four year old often asked, as hopefully as if he were angling for a new toy.

As we walked to the garden to clean it out for winter this weekend, I was sad. The limp, frost-bit plants boasted fruit that didn’t have time to ripen. I wanted to be depressed about the long winter that stood firmly between our next growing season, but that little garden would not allow it.

It thrilled us all afternoon. Seeing brilliant orange carrots surface among shovels of black dirt was like finding hidden treasures. Capturing dozens of ladybugs who were feasting on remaining cucumber leaves entertained the kids for hours.

And clean-up complete, the kids lingered long in the garden digging holes and moving dirt without a toy in site.

Our first garden was a great experiment in science, problem solving and innovation. We undertook gardening to generate good food for our family, which it did.

But its greatest bounty was the countless opportunities (and excuses) it gave us to hang out together, be outside, and slowdown enough to marvel at the wonders of our world.

That’s simplicity at its best.

No Time To Spare

I stood at a fax machine recently chatting with a co-worker about how passé the once revolutionary machine has become. In the era of scanning, emailing and electronic signatures, fax machines sit largely idle, collecting dust beside Dictaphones and overhead projectors.

When I entered the workforce, faxing was cutting edge technology and email was an infant. So I don’t have any frame of reference for what the workplace was like without the ability -- and expectation -- to instantly exchange information.

I enjoy trying to imagine that world and the conversations in it. “OK Bob. I’ll look for your draft to arrive in a few days. You should have my edits back in a week.” These pleasant daydreams are usually interrupted by a vibrating phone urgently alerting me to something very trivial that needs my immediate attention.

It’s hard to imagine the pace of life getting any faster or people trying to cram more into our maxed out minutes. Instant messaging, ready-made meals, one-hour processing, overnight delivery, same-day service. The list alone makes me anxious.

Nearly every driver on the road is also talking, texting or checking email on their phone, sometimes while eating breakfast and putting on makeup.

Technology has also blurred the lines between work, play and home life. This can be a great blessing, but has its challenges. The other day I caught myself having a serious conversation with a reporter while decorating for my child’s birthday party. I did my best to disguise my breathlessness while lugging a heavy cooler up and down our stairs.

So goes the imperfect juggling act we call life. We can use every high-tech trick and device, and somehow remain perpetually behind. Between email, cell phone, facebook, blogs, voicemail, twitter, and texting I could spend a whole day with my child and never complete a real conversation.

So what’s the point? I can daydream for hours about life before computers but technology has forever changed the way we live and interact. It pervades every aspect of our lives.

The problem is, the time savers don’t live up to their claims. My Blackberry might have more memory than my own brain and a few more applications too, but it can’t give me what I want the most. More time.

Ultimately, only I can do that, by judiciously drawing boundaries and determining which balls in my juggling act can fall and which ones are just too precious to break.

A Case for Conservatism

For much of his presidency, George Bush was called just about every dirty name possible, including “liar” by Sen. Harry Reid.

We didn’t hear righteous indignation blaring from the steps of the Capitol on the nightly news. No calls for an apology. No outcry for civility or respect.

So I find the clicking of tongues and waving fingers of shame at Rep. Joe Wilson interesting. Many of Wilson’s critics similarly complain about the health care and tea party protests, and dismiss the protestors as being rude, orchestrated, paid, or ill-informed.

Wilson’s outburst was wrong. Our President deserves more respect. But advocates of President Obama’s rapid and sweeping reforms seem unwilling to recognize one simple fact: the storms of protests are fueled not by ignorant misunderstanding but by ardent disagreement with the basic premise of these changes.

I’m among the conservatives who disagree with much of President Obama’s agenda, not out of desire to protect the rich or the status quo. Not because I’m racist. Not because I lack compassion for the poor or disabled. Not because I’m too dumb or ill-informed to really understand the issues or because I need to be enlightened somehow by my liberal friends.

My philosophy comes after much deliberate consideration. I believe that conservative principles of limited government and a strong free enterprise system offer the surest, most sustainable road to opportunity, prosperity, and happiness for the largest number of people.

Economist Milton Friedman, who died in 2006, staunchly defended free enterprise as the best economic system ever developed by civilization. The great achievements of civilization, he said, have not come from government bureaus but by individuals pursuing their own interests.

In an interview with Phil Donahue, the famously liberal talk show host lamented the uneven distribution of wealth in the world, the desperate plight of people in undeveloped countries, the existence of so few haves and so many have nots.

Donahue’s concerns are legitimate, and most people share them. No one has a monopoly on compassion for the poor and needy.

Friedman maintained, however, that the only cases in which the masses have escaped the kind of grinding poverty Donahue described are where they have capitalism and free trade.

“The record of history is absolutely crystal clear,” Friedman said. “There is no alternative way so far discovered of improving the lot of the ordinary people that can hold a candle to the productive energies that are unleashed by a free enterprise system.”

We have already wandered far from limited government. President Obama’s policies would propel government on a growth chart that seems impossible to sustain. This poses a huge threat to the government’s funding source, our free enterprise system, which in turn will hurt, not help the poor or middle class people President Obama professes to represent.

Rather than creating a fairer more just society, these proposals will undermine the quality of life for all future Americans.

Take exception with the manner of the debate if you will. But the intensity of opposition to these proposals suggests it is change many Americans don’t believe in.

Wanted: Two More Weeks of Summer

As I drove to pick up my kids from school recently, the temperature at the bank read 84 degrees.

I reflected with frustration on the weeks of crappy May and June weather that consumed probably 40 percent of our summer break. How I’d like to exchange these warm August days in school with the early June days of freezing rain.

In North Dakota, the start date of schools is a local matter, one that school boards and superintendents protect vigorously. I agree with local control and support it.

The problem with school schedules is this. Local school boards approve the schedule but the schedule is built around -- or strongly influence by -- a statewide athletic calendar (with a big emphasis on finishing football before the snow flies.) The real “control” being exercised at the local level on school start dates seems pretty minor.

A couple years ago, the Legislature narrowly rejected a measure that would have required schools to start after Labor Day. Lobbying efforts by the school superintendents, school boards and other education groups prevailed.

Local control and athletic schedules aside, there are some sensible and compelling reasons to delay the beginning of school until after Labor Day. And it can be done without threatening local control or jeopardizing the quality of education.

The first and most obvious reason is weather. August is one of the most reliably warm months of the year in North Dakota. Why do we tie our families at home and our kids back in school for two or three of the nicest weeks of the year?

By doing so, we compel a large number of summer attractions to close prematurely. Last weekend was one of the nicest of the season, but families couldn’t take a dip in any of Bismarck’s public pools. All were closed for the season.

Raging Rivers, plagued by a summer of awful water-park weather, is closed except on weekends. That attraction is missing out on a couple potentially great weeks of revenue.

Hotels and other attractions suffer as well because once school starts both employees and in-state visitors dry up. Big attractions like Medora struggle to find staff for the last few weeks of their season because students leave for school in mid August.

A Bismarck hotel owner, testifying to the Legislature on this issue, said his business dropped off 30 percent as soon as school started in August. He said continuing the summer season through Labor Day would have generated another $15,000 in sales for the year – “a meaningful amount for a small North Dakota business who is asked to pay property taxes totaling over $37,000 and a school distribution of $20,683.”

A 2006 statewide survey found that 75 percent of people who have an opinion on this issue support requiring schools to begin after Labor Day.

But a state mandate shouldn’t be necessary. Since schools collectively agree on a very similar schedule now, why can’t they collectively agree on a schedule that starts after Labor Day?

They could. They just need to hear from enough people who want them to.

Summer is short and precious in our state. A later start and finishing date for schools makes sense. It would be good for families, kids, businesses, teachers, and our economy.

And it might even be a welcome change for those poor high school football players forced to practice in full gear on the hottest days of summer.

Friends: A choice and a treasure

"A faithful friend is a sturdy shelter; he who finds one finds a treasure." Sirach 6:14

One of my oldest pals, Schultzie, is in town. We’ve been friends for 26 years, ever since we met as mullet-wearing pre-pubescent junior high kids who shared a love for playing basketball and baking Christmas cookies.

From Thanksgiving through Christmas, we baked cookies almost every day after school. This tradition caught up with us in college. We once took pictures in a mall photo booth and tried to display as many of our cookie-induced chins as possible. When the machine spit out the strip of black and whites, they revealed at least 10 between us.

We laughed for hours at those awful pictures -- just one of countless such events that triggered stupid levels of laughter. Through high school, college and beyond, Schultzie was a pretty constant companion. We covered a lot of territory in those 12 years, growing from childhood to adulthood, and accumulated a hard drive full of memories.

When we were both just 19, our parents amazingly approved of us taking a five-week trip through Europe, largely un-chaperoned.

Credit cards were not yet an international currency, so we followed the “Europe on $20 a Day” plan. We were so nervous about running out of money we ate very little and walked everywhere. (This helped eliminate some of the chins.)

In Rome I remember staring at the carts of gelato, debating whether to eat supper or indulge in dessert because both would break the budget. Sensibility won out at first. But after errantly ordering potato pizza one night, we started ignoring our motherly voices and chose instead the largest-size bowls of Italian ice cream we could afford.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, who commented a lot about friendship, said the only way to have a friend is to be one. This is not so true of sisters, brothers, or parents. All of these relationships are gifts of birth. They are a lot better with effort of course, but they last a lifetime either way.

Spouses too are different, formally bound by a legal and/or spiritual pledge.

Friendship, on the other hand, is a choice. One that can be abandoned at any moment should either party so desire. That’s why friendships are so special. They are completely optional – held together only by mutual interest and good will.

As the years pass, the likelihood of sometime living across the street, across town or even across the state from my friend Schultzie dwindles. We’ll probably always live across the country.

But that’s okay. A lifelong friend is like a favorite pair of jeans that never wear out or become too tight. Days, weeks or even years might pass, but when you pull them on they still fit comfortably -- even if you’ve eaten too many Christmas cookies.

Surviving a Summer of Squabbles

While thousands of people were reveling at the state fair or 10,000 Lakes Festival last weekend, I was solo-parenting at a very different festival: Bickerfest 2009. This included refereeing the ever-popular sideshows Whine-o-rama, Wrestlemania and Squabblejam.

For kids, summer means freedom, fun and a lot more togetherness with siblings. As August approaches, most parents I know are growing weary of the battles.

The scenarios that trigger sibling scraps are usually too-ridiculous to repeat. My favorite exchange this weekend found my son yelling down the steps, “Quit talking to me!” To which his younger brother responded in his loudest possible voice, “No!!! You quit talking to me first.”

In the peak of frustration with Bickerfest, I retreated briefly to my computer and hastily composed an email to my family chronicling the events of my aggravating morning and my not-so-graceful ways of handling it.

Later that day, when the kids and I arrived home from some errands, a beautiful vase of miniature roses greeted me at the door. A note in my mom’s script advised, “Spread happiness in a troubled world.”

My mom was famous for keeping her cool. When my siblings were young, we lived just one block from school, so they always came home for lunch. My mom set out the food family style and left them unsupervised to serve and eat lunch while she retreated to the piano.

Chaos usually ensued, as you would expect. But my mom was in her own happy place drowning out the noise with songs and scales. To this day, she insists she was trying to teach them to share.

For me, and I believe most parents, listening to my kids fight is difficult for reasons beyond just the noise or the inherent danger of two boys in a real brawl with light sabers. Remember Madlyn Primoff, the 45-year-old Park Avenue lawyer who became a nationwide news story this spring for kicking her 12 and 10-year-old quarreling daughters out of the car and driving away?

Their bickering was annoying I’m sure, but I doubt that’s what prompted her to make good on the most widely used threat of all time. “Stop fighting or I’ll stop the car.”

Ultimately, what eats away at parents like Primoff – and me -- is the fear that we are the cause of the sibling quarrels. That our combative kids are proof that we are failing as parents. What am I doing wrong and how can I fix this, we wonder?

Parenting experts offer a wide variety of tips and tricks. We’ve heard them before, but perhaps a few are worth repeating.
• Negotiate in advance solutions and penalties for common daily battles.
• Set ground rules for fair fighting, like teaching them to fight with words, not fists.
• Use natural consequences. For example, those who demand to get the first or the most, get the last and the least.

The one point on which all the experts agree is that fighting is both normal and essential for growing up. Somehow squabbling with siblings teaches kids how to solve problems and handle conflicts as adults.

To this end, my most trusted advisor (my mom) and the books, too, strongly advise that parents let kids work out their battles themselves.

So, I guess I can retire my whistle and striped shirt. Next time my kids are fighting, you can find me at the piano.

Life Runs Like a River

It’s summer and that means one thing: family road trips

This weekend, we walked across the Mississippi River. Not on a bridge, but directly through the river from one side to the other. We accomplished this impressive feat at the river’s headwaters in Itasca State Park, of course, where the water is warm and clear and about 8 inches deep.

As we wandered down the infant stream I was able to stretch out my arms and touch the long grass on both banks of this famous river. Amazing!

Dozens of children played in the water. It’s a real-life “lazy river,” and they floated down the shallow, narrow stream beaming with the pure joy of childhood and summer.

As we walked back upstream, I was amazed by the force of the current. I thought it might be gentler at the beginning. That it would take some time to build momentum and force. Apparently not. Even at the onset, you can tell by the pull of this river that it is destined for greatness.

Walking through the headwaters of the Mississippi was oddly appropriate. I’ve been reflecting on the parallels between rivers and life this week, triggered by my dad’s 80th birthday and the celebration of my 10th wedding anniversary.

It’s hard to believe a decade has passed since my husband Mike and I got married. Despite a bunch of major life changes, we feel much the same.

On our anniversary day, we exchanged a couple off-key voicemail serenades. The chorus of one of them, an old Loggins and Messina song, rings through my head as I’m walking up the Mississippi. “And we go on and on, watching the river run. Further and further from things that we’ve done, leaving them one by one.”

I think of the last two decades. High school and college are ancient history. My years of being independent and single are long past. Our kids’ baby and toddler stages, too, are already over. This fall all of them will be in school.

And my dad’s 80th is a stark reminder that my parents are in the twilight of life – every day with them is precious.

When we got married, our dog Bogart was a spry young pup with gleaming chocolate-colored fur. Today, Bogart’s muzzle is completely white, his fur is faded and clumpy, and he struggles to sit, climb or stand up. A decade is forever for a dog.

I watch the waters of the Mississippi racing over my feet at the beginning of a 2,500 mile journey to the ocean, and I’m stuck by how fast my own river is racing. It can be sad to think about all the life stages already left behind.

But the chorus of the song continues. “We have just begun, watching the river run. Listening and learning and yearning, run river run.”

We are powerless to slow the rivers of life. We can’t build a dam to stop them. Which leaves us only to live in and appreciate the present -- to listen, learn, yearn and embrace our river’s flow.

So today, there are fish to catch, cards to play, and meals to share with our family and dear friends. Run river run.

Money Machines Save the Day

My five year old was sitting at the table, counting his jar of money for about the 19th time in two days.

“Mom, I’m saving my money and you know what I’m gonna buy?” he said.

“A Bionicle?” I guessed.

“Nope,” he replied. “A money machine. You buy it for 40 dollars and then after that you can make your own money -- as much money as you want. I’ll give you and daddy some.”

Hmm, I said under my breath, sounds like the government.

We’ve enjoyed some chuckles at my child’s innocence and naivety. But sadly, his scheme isn’t all that different than the economic solutions being implemented by our leaders in Washington.

In the last year, the Federal Reserve has pumped more than $800 billion dollars of new money into our economy. Apparently, when people aren’t spending money because they don’t have any money, the U.S. government can just turn on the money machines and print some more.

It’s just one of the many puzzling solutions coming out our capitol almost daily.
• Health care plans created to protect the uninsured that will unravel the nation’s entire healthcare payment system.
• Cap-and-trade policies that will paralyze key industries like manufacturing and transportation at a time when they are already having heart failure.
• Huge government takeovers of banking, finance, auto and soon healthcare industries.
• And a $787 billion federal stimulus package that includes nearly $1 billion for North Dakota who enjoys a $1.2 billion budget surplus.

Ronald Reagan, speaking at a different moment in history, described today’s government well. “Government’s view of the economy can be summed up in a few short phrases,” he said. “If it moves, tax it. If it keeps moving, regulate it. And if it stops moving, subsidize it.”

As I watch my son count his coins, I’m searching for an answer to one basic question. How do all of these sweeping new policies and spending programs add up to a better America? Where is the common sense, the reality that says one plus one equals two? The change we can believe in?

A group of North Dakotans are asking these same questions in a more public way. For the second time in two months they are gathering to protest the expansion of government with a Rally on the Capitol Mall this Thursday at 6.

They’re planning speakers, music, food and vendors – a 4th of July celebration of individual liberty and freedom from overreaching government that our founding fathers envisioned.

I think I’ll join them, and bring my son. Who knows, maybe someone will be selling a money machine.

Why do dads matter?

When I was nine, my dad rescued a pile of bricks from a historic building that was being demolished in downtown Fargo. He dumped them on our driveway, and these bricks became a summer project for my family and all the neighborhood kids.

Our job was to chip the old mortar off the bricks. The pile was enormous and, for those who have never done it, whittling old mortar off bricks is about as much fun as removing stubborn wallpaper. With hours of free child labor, we eventually transformed the useless pile of rubble into the makings of a beautiful floor-to-ceiling fireplace.

This project is just one of my dad’s many creative teaching tools. Through it, I learned the value of helping others with crummy jobs, saw trash transformed into treasure, and gutted through hours of mundane work to experience the satisfaction of a stunning final product.

I have an amazing father, and so do my kids. Our bedroom is littered with love notes for my husband from our daughter. As soon as she could scrawl together words, she began tucking notes under his pillow that were signed, “scrit admrir.”

Every good dad brings his own unique gifts to his children. But universally, dads fill a number of roles that are vital to our kids and communities.

Dads are a child’s first supreme authority figure. They provide motivation to behave and perform. Growing up, I respected my mom and tried hard to treat her kindly. But my dad, I did not cross. He had very low tolerance for bad attitudes, shoddy work, or disrespect. We all wanted to please him and still do, even as adults.

My kids, like most others today, have a more informal relationship with their dad. But they know he is the leader of our family and rarely challenge his authority. They like him, want to be like him and treasure his approval.

Dads provide protection and security -- financial and physical. My dad, at nearly 80 years old, still works every day to secure a better future for everyone in my family. He has devoted his whole life to us, without complaint.

In any threat -- be it a bad blizzard, a bad recession or bad person -- we turn to our dads to pull us through safely. They can also be counted on for rowdy wrestling matches, piggy-backs to bed and occasional suspension of rules regarding bedtime, snacks, or destructive indoor games.

Finally, dads are a steady source of unconditional love. This isn’t unique to dads, of course, but as a whole, I think dads come very close to perfecting the art of loving without conditions.

They typically don’t need much recognition, encouragement or material gifts. But offer your dad respect and he will do or give you anything you need, including, if necessary, his life.

Dads are precious. If all fathers were dads to their children, our world would be a much better place. To appreciate what they do, look at the poverty, crime and hopelessness that dominate cultures where dads are largely absent.

Dads are like the bricks I cleaned as a kid. They provide a fortress of authority, protection and love that our children and communities need to grow and be healthy.

May God abundantly bless our dads.

Unlimited Minutes and Other Technology Tricks

Last week, a colleague entered my office at about 2:30 with a request. He needed 160 copies of a document that didn’t exactly exist by noon the next day. I mentally scanned all the other items on my plate and realized this was now the largest pile of potatoes. So I jumped in, serving “drop-everything” requests to at least three others in the process.

One of them was a co-worker who I needed to confirm some facts. He called several of his sources, but none answered their cell phones. We impatiently searched the web for information. No luck.

He placed more calls and text messages. Skunked again. “Hmm,” he said in disbelief. “This is the first time I’ve ever called Lynn when he didn’t answer his cell.”

The first time? Ever? Despite my desire to complete the project, I secretly applauded Lynn for being temporarily unreachable. Clearly, he’s way too accessible.

Not so many years ago, this request would have been impossible. Producing and printing 160 color copies of a four-page document laden with facts and statistics would have taken weeks or even months. Today, not only is it possible, it’s fairly reasonable.

I wish I had been involved in the business world before the Internet, email, cell phones, fax machines or even Fed Ex. I want just one memory of a conversation that ended with, “OK, I’ll get it in the mail today,” and the recipient had to wait days or maybe weeks for the item to show up in a mailbox.

Today, most documents arrive electronically often bearing a red exclamation point. It’s the perfect symbol for our culture today. The faster technology delivers, the more we cram into our lives. We can fish and work, drive and text, all at the same. Unlimited minutes, always available like Lynn to confirm facts.

This pace has a lot of us frazzled. Monday, within one hour, I heard, “June is awful for us,” “Today has been just unbelievably crazy,” “I’m so tired of being busy,” and “What do I want? To rest.”

But as much as we complain about the busy state of our lives, how many of us are willing to change it? To ask, “What’s most important to me?” and to make the tough decisions that will turn those priorities into reality.

At a graduation this weekend, a speaker talked about the importance of standing aside in life for things that are important to us rather than following everyone else’s priorities or complacency.

I thought about this advice recently when a dear friend complained to me about being so busy that she doesn’t even have time to enjoy simple things with her kids, like taking them to the park.

“Why not?” I asked. She offered a litany of reasons about how the tasks consuming her time were contributing to an important professional goal. “What other goals do you have?” I asked. “Well, the kids of course, those are our most important goal,” she said.

We left the conversation at that. Four hours later, she called me back. “Guess where I am?” she said before even saying hello. “Having a picnic with the kids at the park!” And then she added triumphantly, “I’m leaving my cell phone in the car.”

The Value of Wave Breakers

I almost drowned last month …OK, not really, but I swallowed enough water during a recent swim that I entertained the possibility I might drown.

I’m not a great swimmer, but it’s been my exercise of choice for nearly 10 years. The waves in the pool on this recent evening were terrible. I bobbed and weaved all over my lane, gulping water and getting dizzy and disoriented.

In the middle of my second lap I felt myself starting to panic. After just three lengths, I stopped at the wall, exhausted. What on earth was going on?

I felt like I was swimming in the ocean. As I looked around the pool, I counted only six people. Two teenage boys were attempting to swim the butterfly in the lanes right next to me. They weren’t very good at it, or very smooth.

Assuming they were the source of the waves, I stared at them a couple times hoping they would move over, give up or switch to an easier stroke. In true teenage form, they completely ignored me. Clearly, they couldn’t see the intensity of the glares behind my swim goggles.

I continued on. After a few more laps I was clinging to the edge again, trying to recover. I saw a guy four lanes over doing the same thing. “Why is it so wavy in here?” I yelled over at him.

“No lane ropes,” he said. I’m sure he felt like saying, “Duh, lady – didn’t you notice that?”

I had noticed, of course, but never imagined they were so important. I thought the ropes just organized the swimmers, and never realized they organized the waves too.

I wanted to quit and go home, but I had worked too hard to arrange this time at the pool and really wanted a swim. So, I told myself to stop being such a wimp and pushed away from the wall.

For the rest of that swim, when I wasn’t worrying about being swamped by a wave or passing out from dizziness, I thought about how valuable lane ropes are in the pool and in life.

Everyone needs the protection of lane ropes -- family, friends, mentors -- people who stand near, help keep us on course, break the waves, and strengthen us to stay afloat among the challenges that inevitably penetrate their barrier.

I’ve been blessed with a steady line of lane ropes, and hate to imagine how I would be today if I had lived fully exposed without the strong presence and love from family and friends who have been at my side breaking the waves.

A lot of people aren’t nearly as fortunate. Many, even in our own community, could use some extra wave breakers. A 30-minute swim was a good reminder to jump in the water more often for my neighbors to make their swimming a little bit smoother. Some money, a ride, a helping hand, even just a smile.

You never know when you might save someone from drowning.

Spring: Time to shed some weight

For the last two weeks I’ve been apologizing to everyone who enters my house. Just inside the front door, I have transformed our dusty and useless dining room into a staging area for my latest project.

Stacked chest high are boxes of maternity clothes, piles of toys, collections of glassware, half used bottles of hair tonics and anything else that has no overriding functional or emotional purpose in our lives.

I started 2009 seeking to be lean. Now, with the green grass of spring I’m trying again to lighten the load. I recently watched my neighbor downsize her family of six into a smaller house. Now I want to do almost the same thing: downsize the stuff, keep the house.

My friend Sandy calls this a pretend move. I love this idea.

The process of packing, hauling, unpacking and relocating every single item you possess quickly clarifies the wisdom of saving a half-used bottle of four-year-old sunscreen or Grandma Olga’s nightgowns accepted while grieving after her funeral.

To provide a deadline for this project, I volunteered to host a multi-family rummage sale. This is actually more motivating than a closing date with a banker – rummage salers case your joint the night before a sale and begin collecting their purchases at the slightest sign of daylight.

My kids are absorbed in the project too. On the sales block are some precious toys they know will fetch a good price. The two oldest are laying claim to baby things they are convinced were theirs. Our youngest, on the other hand, is suddenly attached to toys he lasted touched when he was toothless.

My daughter even asked this weekend if she could sell a large chunk of bark she found. “Sure,” I said mindlessly. “How much do you think someone will pay for it mom? Three dollars?”

Money is certainly their motivation, but mine is altogether different.

My oldest sister gave me the book “Gift from the Sea” for my 40th birthday. First written and published in 1955 by Ann Morrow Lindbergh (the wife of Charles Lindbergh), “Gift from the Sea” offers Lindbergh’s thoughts on balancing life, work and relationships.

The mother of five lived in a different era, yet her struggle to find balance in life parallels that of women today. The book is the product of Lindbergh’s hiatus by the sea away from her family.

At the sea, she discovered and began to shed what was unnecessary to her. Clothes first – she needed only a few light pieces. This spread into the shedding of vanity. She simplified her shelter, needing no heat, no telephone, very little furniture or decorations. This spread into the shedding of pride and material possessions.

She also shed hypocrisy in relationships and her mask of insincerity. She didn’t need these when she was with her best, most trustworthy friends.

In the end her challenge was not how much, but how little she could get along with.

I remember standing in my friend’s garage before she moved. One-third of it was full of items she planned to shed. Another third were things for indefinite storage. And the final pile, probably the smallest, contained their necessities for daily living.

It’s amazing what we collect, even more amazing why. Standing in my dining room the stuff surrounding me feels heavy and rather suffocating. I’m excited to shed some of it and to be more disciplined in the future to ask, as Lindbergh did, before accumulating more things to manage, “Is it necessary?”

Not just an ordinary jog in the park

I had my own personal Earth Day celebration this weekend – a surprise party actually.

As I drove down to the river for a morning run, a thick fog limited visibility to about 30 feet. I delighted at the sudden sight of a big wild turkey strutting in the coulee near my car. I felt like yelling, “Good morning,” to him.

The entire river valley was smothered in fog, even the bridges were hidden from view.
The birds had already been awake for hours. They had a lot to talk about after such a long winter. Their busy chatter provided the music for my run. Woodpeckers hammered away on trees, robins sang their cheerful song and countless others I can’t identify clucked, cawed and tweeted excitedly. Maybe I’ll see an owl, I thought, and kept a close watch on the naked trees for any such sign.

I passed a lone goose swimming peacefully on some backwaters. He was still there an hour later on my return -- what a life! A few of his lady friends were making their way toward his pond and I almost had to veer off my path to avoid them.

Showing not even a hint of concern at my presence, they leisurely waddled across the trail, glancing ever so slightly at me with their bills in the air. All they needed were a couple of bonnets and they could have passed for the sassy geese in “The Aristocats.”

A squirrel bounded under my feet, perfectly camouflaged against the trees and dead leaves that covered the ground. I harkened back to winter walks when we were repeatedly thrilled by giant white jackrabbits that popped randomly out of the snow and led our dogs on fruitless chases across the prairie.

As I headed north again the sun finally overpowered the fog. Could it be that the grass was already turning green? Just a week ago the same path was impassable with snow and ice.

As I jogged under the new Memorial Bridge, a low hoot echoed above. Was it pigeons or the wind bouncing under the rafters? I wasn’t sure until I saw a chorus line of gray birds watching me intently from their high roost. Their numbers and formation were so impressive they could have been the Rockettes.

Another mile north, on higher ground, the fog returned thicker than before. I couldn’t even make out the nearest river bank. My brow was wet, not from sweat but from the mist of the fog. The sudden awareness that I was running in the clouds gave me a fresh rush of energy.

On the final stretch of my run, Mr. Golden Sun shined powerfully over the hills that flank the river. He was determined to suppress that stubborn fog. A grove of black trees stood proudly while the sun’s rays beamed behind them.

The reflection of the rays in the fog was brilliant, a dramatic contrast to the black trees. Those trees knew they were in the spotlight, and they loved it. This scene and the end of my run left me breathless.

Back at my car, I stretched and pondered the many surprising joys of the past hour by the river. When I stood up I almost couldn’t believe what I saw. There before me, spanning the river, was the grand finale: a full rainbow.

I felt like cheering, but stood instead in silence and admired the small miracle until it vanished.

Thank you Mother Nature, dear God, for such an amazing show.

Keeping Our Kids Afloat in Dangerous Seas

Who knew McDonald’s play land would be the site of my child’s first informal education on some intriguing adult subjects. One minute she and her friends were slipping on the slides, the next minute she was getting an earful of confusing information about her favorite childhood idols.

Her “teacher” was another little girl, smart and kindhearted, who had been educated by her friend, who had been schooled by her teenage sister who found the gossip on the internet. So it goes. News travels fast among the young and curious who have access to virtually endless information online.

While I regret that my child heard some of this, the experience offered a timely reminder about the world in which children are growing.

Humans have been educating and corrupting each other since the beginning of time. I learned an awful lot from my friends as a kid, good and bad.

The big difference is back then our steamiest source of information was Judy Bloom books that we snuck in the library to read juicy details about puberty. My childhood idols were Mary Ingalls, Marcia Brady and Charlie’s Angels.

Today’s children swim in a sea of popular culture dominated by sex, violence, pornography, gossip and materialism -- all of it available in graphic video just a click away on a handheld device.

Sadly, our children’s youth and innocence are drowning in this sea, and often the death is occurring on our watch in our very own homes.

Our community has had extensive conversations and initiatives aimed at improving how we feed our kids. But I wonder, are we worried enough as parents about how we feed the minds of our children through the movies, video games, music and online information they consume every day?

I was talking recently with a mom, Laurie, who is in the throws of raising teenagers on the East Coast. She piqued my interest in the hottest teen show called, “Gossip Girls.” It’s “Desperate Housewives” for teens.

Last week’s storyline followed characters at their elite New York City high school as they talked about “makeup sex,” attended cocktail parties and plotted to ruin each other by posting sex tapes on the internet.

Laurie and her husband watched an episode with their kids and decided they could find better entertainment. The teens moaned and complained, “ALL our friends get to watch it.”

So, Laurie called the other parents and asked if they’d seen the show. None of them had. “Sit down next week and watch it with them,” she urged.

I like this approach. First, the parents are aware of potential problems because they monitor their kids’ entertainment. Second, they set boundaries and standards, explaining inappropriate material and offering alternatives. Third, they talk to other parents – not condemning but suggesting they might want to make an informed decision.

The first line of defense is parents, but others can provide valuable support. Bismarck’s Charity Lutheran Church is tackling this issue with discussions about purity. The program is aimed at teaching “tweens” that what they choose to put into their minds -- via music, movies, books, Internet sites and video games -- affects the way they think and act.

It’s a great program that provides a framework for parents to reinforce at home.

I can get easily overwhelmed by the challenges of raising children today. The world is a constantly changing sea of tantalizing high-tech hazards and I feel ill-equipped at times to compete.

But I’m reminded and encouraged that the tools we have as parents, if we use them together, can be extremely effective. Be aware, set boundaries, communicate openly with kids starting when they are tiny, and form alliances with other parents and adults.

These are our life vests and we must use them diligently to keep our kids afloat.

Sunny Getaway = Happy Parents

Fresh back from a five-day sojourn in Southern Florida, I’m listening to blizzard warnings on the television and searching my skin for any remaining evidence that I was recently near the equator.

I’m also trying to remember what it was like sweating in the sun just a few days ago. I can see myself lying in that lounge chair. If only the wind would quit howling I might be able to recapture the feeling too.

This was the first vacation without kids for my husband Mike and I since we gave birth to our first seven years ago. We daydreamed about these five carefree days for months. The righteous indignation of our kids made the anticipation even sweeter. How dare we travel to the beach without them. “NO FAIR,” they complained.

You’re right – it isn’t fair, we taunted back. Whoooo hooo!!!!

We left them in the capable hands of my 23-year-old niece Amy, and stocked her with four gallons of milk, 3 dozen eggs, 24 yogurts, a freezer full of meals, pre-arranged play dates and car pools, schedules, charts and phone numbers for reinforcements.

What she lacked in experience and parental wisdom she would certainly make up for in energy, we reasoned. She agreed to the job without negotiating her fee first. Take Away Lesson Number One for Amy.

When we called her from the Minneapolis airport on our flight out, she was trying to squash a meal-time rebellion. Take Away Lesson Number Two was taking root: Do not rush to have children.

This one meal probably delayed Amy’s childbearing days by about a decade. But she handled it like a real pro and did what any seasoned mom would do. She created a chart, titled it, “Report to Parents” and decorated it with sad faces.

Here’s how she described her first meal: “E got up from the table several times while eating to do karate and yell. All three kids yelling even when repeatedly asked to stop. E and N repeatedly putting faces into pizza and laughing when told to stop. The youngest gave me two thumbs down and said, ‘Amy, you’re this!’”

Her final remark: “Supper = disaster.”

On the other end of the phone in Minneapolis, I searched for some helpful tip to make things better, but my mind was already on the beach. “Show them who’s boss, Amy,” I encouraged before dashing onto the plane to Miami.

On the jet way I remembered Mike’s warning to her the day before. “Amy, you know how there are times in life where five days just flies by and you think to yourself, man where did that time go?” he said.

“Yeah,” she responded cheerfully.

“Well … this isn’t going to be one of those times. The days are going to go reeeeaaaaal slooooooow.”

For us, on the other hand, the days dissolved faster than a bite of cotton candy. What an escape from the responsibilities of work and family, from cold weather and daily routines. By the second day, everyone on the trip was holding hands and snuggling -- not necessarily something that happens spontaneously after wrestling with kids and work all day.

We talked without interruption and broke all the rules -- stayed up late, slept in, ordered adult food, drank Pina Coladas in the afternoon (I think it was after noon), and read chapter books of our own choice.

The sun and heat were great, but the biggest takeaway from the trip was remembering how much I like my husband.

With a benefit like that, we won’t wait seven years to arrange another “unfair” getaway, if only to Minot. That is if we can convince an unsuspecting babysitter like Amy to make it possible.

Simple Principles Keep ND Healthy

A few national reporters are looking curiously at North Dakota these days, wondering how this obscure, little state is avoiding the economic devastation that’s occurring from sea to shining sea.

“Maybe we could learn something from North Dakota?” they have asked.

As a matter of fact, they probably could.

While most states are trying to patch up their bleeding bodies with band aids of stimulus dollars, North Dakotans are debating ways to responsibly use or even save the millions in federal money that, frankly, we don’t need.

It’s easy to dismiss North Dakota’s success in one word: oil. But it isn’t that simple. If oil was the core of our success, our economy would have plummeted right along with oil prices in the last six months.

It hasn’t. So what’s going on here? High demand for energy, strong commodity prices, and a construction boom has certainly bolstered our economy. But two other major factors, fully within our control, are stabilizing North Dakota’s economy and they offer some timeless lessons for the rest of the nation.

First, North Dakota banks and financial institutions didn’t partake in the lending schemes that have destroyed housing markets and financial systems in nearly every other state. As one Bismarck car dealer told the New York Times in December, “We don’t do those goofy loans here.”

Our banks and consumers largely bypassed the tempting new products on the market, following instead traditional, proven lending methods. This has made an enormous difference in North Dakota.

By avoiding the mortgage disaster, our financial sector remains healthy and able to provide the stabile financial foundation that fuels our businesses and shoulders our economy.

The lesson is a simple one: If it seems too good to be true, it is. Home ownership is an awesome goal, but it can’t be achieved by simply lowering lending standards. Three cheers for North Dakota’s sensible, conservative bankers and home buyers.

Another key factor that is largely going unnoticed is the stability of our government. This isn’t just an accident or dumb luck. It’s the result of diligent elected leaders who have set priorities and made tough choices.

For years, we have elected people who have been good stewards of our resources, using economic growth to fuel government growth not the opposite.

Most importantly, our leaders have paid careful attention to funding government that is affordable not just in good times, but bad. In 2007, legislators rejected $550 million in new spending programs that would have further increased the baseline cost of government and devoured a bulk of today’s budget surplus.

They also returned millions back to taxpayers and saved millions more in a state “rainy day” fund.

This too is a simple lesson: live within your means. It’s a rule our elected leaders have followed that’s paying big dividends for all of us.

North Dakota citizens reflect this same principle every day. It’s why most people here don’t lease fancy cars they can’t afford just to make themselves look good. It’s why I’ve never seen a “foreclosed” sign on a house in my city.

It’s why twice in the last two weeks I’ve learned of friends who secured a second job to pay for a vacation or home improvements rather than going into debt.

North Dakota isn’t completely immune from the economic crisis, but the strength of our financial system, the stability of our government and the sensibility of our citizens give us a fighting chance to escape the worst of it.

ND Wins Big -- Or Do We?

“Why is everything so bad right now Mom?” my daughter asked while we were making supper and listening to the evening news recently. “Why are they always talking about how bad everything is?”

I hadn’t considered how the constant news about crisis and tragedy might sound to our kids … So began my attempt to explain our country’s economic woes to a 1st grader.

My child is confused by the constant doomsday talk not only because she’s seven but because she doesn’t really see or feel the pain here in North Dakota.

No, we aren’t completely isolated. Some dear friends are leaving our neighborhood, in part to shelter themselves from the recession. My husband survived two reductions-in-force last year and his company was recently bought out, promising more cutbacks. So, our future has some concerning question marks.

But despite some layoffs and evidence of slowdown, North Dakota stands like an economic fortress among the houses of cards that are toppling throughout the United States. North Dakota has a $1 billion budget surplus, abundant jobs and among the lowest unemployment rates in the nation.

Considering the steady financial position of North Dakota, I was among those disturbed by news from our Congressional delegation last week that North Dakota will receive $493 million in “formula funding” from the economic stimulus package.

Formula funding is one of those government terms that we tune out. It must be code for money distributed without consideration of need.

“Per capita, only two states do better,” a news release from Sen. Kent Conrad glowed. “These resources will be invested in North Dakota’s highways and bridges, our law enforcement agencies, our growing energy sector, and our children’s school lunch programs.”

Fine. North Dakotans will probably spend it more wisely than most. But I thought the point of the package was to stimulate troubled economies? With some states near collapse, should North Dakota with a record budget surplus be among the biggest winners per capita of stimulus money?

I know North Dakota won’t reject the money, but I’d like to see us return part of it. For instance, our share includes about $25 million for the State Energy Program. Compare this to the program’s current annual budget of about $250,000 and you’ll understand why some people in state government question whether we will be able to responsibly spend all of this money. That's a 10,000 percent increase in just one program in one small state.

Examples like this undermine confidence in this approach. I'm plagued with questions about it. How can a 30 percent increase in the entire federal budget be debated, passed and signed into law in less than one month? Will we ever pay it back? Who are we beholden to for this debt? Are we the Soviet Union of the 21st Century, spending our way to prosperity while we mortgage our financial systems to a future world power like China?

Another side of me is just curious, as an outside observer might be, to witness what kind of effect this massive spending plan will have on our nation. Is it bold and brilliant or the beginning of a long and painful demise?

Plenty of people are making predictions, but no one really knows. Ultimately, all of the nay saying, cheering and predictions in the news doesn’t matter. We are in an economic, political and social experiment of historic proportions, and only history will determine whether it works.

My daughter feels isolated from the economic crisis today, and I hope that continues to be the case. Most of all, I pray it doesn’t fall squarely on her lap when she’s raising a first grader of her own.

Obsessing about Love

Last week, our kids transformed the kitchen into a Valentine factory. Glitter covered our table, counters, chairs and most of our dogs too. Piles of papers baring heart-shaped wounds littered the floor.

They produced 50-some creations that only a mother can recognize as hearts, and taped a piece of leftover Halloween candy on each one for good measure. (At last -- that stash is gone.)

Valentine’s Day aside, love has been on my mind a lot this past year. Not heart pounding, stomach dropping romantic love, but love as in “love your neighbor” or “love your enemy.”

Love like:
• The Trinity Lutheran Church lady who volunteers 50 hours each week to coordinate The Banquet meals for needy people in our community.
• The young women who help developmentally disabled adults swim at our local pools.
• The people who run the Children’s Advocacy Center, Abused Adult Resource Center, Teen Challenge, Charles Hall, Ruth Meier’s, and all the churches that serve the poor and less fortunate.

These people live love as a calling.

Recently, a young priest at my church told our congregation that he hoped we could feel his love for us “overflowing” from him. He choked up a bit as he spoke and his words struck me, not because they were terribly profound but because they were so sincere.

Here was a young man who has devoted his life to loving and caring for others and you can, most certainly, feel the love flowing from him. What a gift to us – immeasurable really, in terms of the impact on people around him.

Helen Keller said, “The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.”

We hear this and nod because we know it’s true. Yet we are so easily, almost obsessively distracted from this lesson. We pack our days trying to see and accomplish and accumulate things to touch, and in the process lose sight of our most important calling to love.

In the rush of a day, it’s easy to bypass simple, loving gestures like sitting down with my five-year-old to talk about his school papers, having a complete conversation with my husband, or calling a lonely friend.

Mattie Stepanek, a young poet who died at age 13 from a severe form of muscular dystrophy, became famous for his touching “Heartsongs” poems. I’m not a big reader of poetry, but this little boy’s plain words are inspiring.

In a poem titled, “Believing in the Journey” he wrote, “Everyday, everyone in the world should do at least one nice thing for others. Doing so can help each person believe in himself or herself more fully and give confidence that may inspire each person to do more new and good things.”

It’s simple and idealistic. But it works. Kindness and love are contagious, not just on Valentine’s Day but everyday. May you be inspired to do more new and good things, even small and insignificant, so your love overflows for everyone to feel.

Considering a new conversation on abortion

Swimming this weekend with my kids we played my favorite pool game: tea party. Four of us gathered in a tight circle and dunked under the water at the same time. I yelled a secret phrase as loudly and clearly as I could, then stood up and waited for them to guess what I said. They looked at me, puzzled. No guesses.

We tried again. And again. And again. Each time I yelled louder and enunciate more carefully. Finally, on the fifth or sixth round, my daughter finally heard me correctly. “MICKEY MOUSE!” she yelled.

The ongoing debate about abortion in this country bares some similarities to this underwater communication game. Both sides chant loudly and enunciate clearly, but they could all just as well be underwater. Their opponents can not understand them.

Unlike my recent game, however, when it comes to the debate on abortion, both sides have practically stopped listening or trying to understand.

Last week, in revoking the Mexico City Policy, President Obama said, “I have no desire to continue this stale and fruitless debate,” and pledged to bring people from all sides together for a fresh conversation on abortion.

I immediately dismissed this promise. A fresh conversation on abortion? Impossible.

Later, I began to consider the alternative. If we can’t somehow initiate a new conversation, the abortion issue will continue to be a game of political “keep away.” When liberals are in charge, national policies will make abortion easier. When conservatives hold the reins, policies will restrict abortions.

This is how it’s been for 36 years. I was four when the “keep away” game began.

So, assuming President Obama is sincere in his desire to create a new conversation, I’ve been thinking about what that might be. What would it sound like? How do you bring these ardent foes together?

First, a new conversation demands that neither side will receive everything they want. This has always been the first and final stumbling block on this issue. Pro-life groups can cede no ground on the taking of innocent life. And the pro-choice advocates stand firmly against any government infringement on a woman’s ability to manage her own body.

End of discussion.

But what if, in a new conversation, Roe v Wade was off the table? What if advocates for life gave up efforts to repeal Roe v Wade? What if we accepted that in terms of U.S. law -- not church teachings, spiritual understanding or moral positioning but legally speaking -- U.S. women have a legal right to chose?

Would this giant concession open the door to a fresh conversation on abortion? And could that liberate people in both camps to quit defending their most pure positions and get about the work of reducing the 1.2 million abortions in this country each year?

Ultimately, abortion is a lose-lose choice. Except in the case of rape, the mother (and father if he’s consulted) lose a life of their own making, the baby loses its future, thousands of potential adoptive parents lose an opportunity to love and parent that child, and society loses the promise inherent to that life.

I believe most Americans view abortion as an undesirable solution. No one, at least no one I’ve ever met, wakes up in the morning and thinks, “If only we could have more abortions in this country. That would be good for America.”

But in fighting to maintain a woman’s right to make this most intimate and significant decision, the pro-choice community has had to diminish the value of the life at stake. Granting any rights or compassion for the unborn child could jeopardize the woman’s exclusive authority to determine her and her baby’s destiny.

This position takes its most extreme form with pro-choice advocates who have more compassion for mistreated animals than for a baby girl accidentally born out of a botched abortion.

We are more reasonable than this. We can do a lot better, working together to reduce unwanted pregnancies, to empower women, to promote life and maintain choice while minimizing and maybe even someday eliminating the need for or use of abortion.

Or we can remain in the swimming pool, continue our underwater conversations and let the game of “keep away” continue.

Answering An Important Call

When a friend of mine announced last year that he was running for the legislature, he was surprised at first by the reaction from people. He expected a few pats on the back. Maybe a couple, “Atta boys.”

But most people -- friends, co-workers, even service club members -- said something quite different. “Why the heck do you want to do something like that? Are you crazy?”

I’m wasn’t too surprised by this response. Legislators are easy targets for criticism, especially during the session. People like to highlight frivolous bills to represent the work of the group as a whole. “Why are they wasting time selecting a state fruit?” critics grumbled last session. “Don’t they have more important things to do?”

Another favorite, “Rather than meeting for 80 days every two years, they should meet for two days every 80 years.” The crowd roars. Heads nod in agreement.

I have a different perspective. For almost 15 years, I’ve been ringside at our state’s legislative process – working for the governor, the legislature or as a lobbyist. I’ve been in public hearings and closed door meetings alike.

I don’t see a bunch of men and women bumbling dumbly through the process, milking the system for freebees and health benefits, or maneuvering laws to benefit themselves. I can’t honestly think of one such example.

Rather, I see 141 normal North Dakotans -- dads, moms, grandparents, farmers, business people and young professionals. People with families, careers and hobbies who somehow manage to extract themselves from their real lives to devote nearly four straight months to lawmaking.

Their days begin early, frequently end late and in between they live, eat and breathe policy, politics and potato skins. People line up to talk to them in the halls of the capitol, outside hearing rooms, at their desks, or through their computer, phone and mail.

Unlike many states, our citizen lawmakers act on every single piece of legislation introduced. Last session, that was nearly 950 bills including the state fruit initiative started by high school students as a way to learn about the legislative process.

I love the fact that in North Dakota anyone who wants to change our laws can try to by simply finding a legislator to introduce a bill. Every idea gets a fair hearing and a vote. No one sits at the gate and says, “This is a good bill, we’ll talk about that. But you there with the dumb idea, that one won’t be heard in my committee.”

Legislators are personal spokespeople for us in our self-governing process. They set policies that have significant consequences on life as we know it -- like whether we can drive and talk on a cell phone at the same time.

And they walk line-by-line through thousands of pages of the state budget that funds 73 agencies and all of our vital services. Want to see what’s involved in this? Sit in on an appropriations hearing for a day -- or even an hour. (Be sure to bring coffee, or Red Bull.)

In return for their work, North Dakota’s part-time legislators receive about $13,500/year plus health insurance. Taxpayers also cover room and board for legislators while they are in session. Not a pittance, but certainly not outrageous. Minnesota legislators earn twice as much. South Dakota about the same.

In California, legislators receive $110,000 year, a free car and nearly $150 per day for expenses.

At the opening of this year’s session, the Jamestown High School choir sang a beautiful song that paid tribute to those who “answer freedom’s call so freedom’s cry will still stay strong.”

Listening to the lyrics, images of soldiers and veterans came to mind. But as I looked around the legislative chambers at the people serving as our representatives, I realized they too had answered freedom’s call. Often, like in the case of my friend, without a lot of public support or encouragement.

Our legislators and the laws they pass aren’t perfect, and the process can be ugly. But the final product has been serving North Dakotans pretty well. Maybe these folks are a little crazy, but I’m sure thankful they are answering this call.