intentional filters

Growing up? Always noise in my house. Not from people- there were only four of us, including my parents, and we weren’t a chatty family. But, there was a constant backdrop of music or the news or an old black and white film filling in empty spaces around teenage angst and hard-working parents. Music to wake us up on Saturday mornings, music in the garage, news during dinner. The radio and the tv were always on. Well into my college years, I could not fall asleep without the tv. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve watched (or heard) When Harry met Sally. There is still nothing better to me than a Saturday nap with college basketball in the background.

Now, I write on my computer. I lead an on-line support group for moms of special-needs kiddos. I fill out doctors’ forms on the computer and I email Curt to find out what he wants for dinner. I text my conscience in Texas and ask her when it’s appropriate to run away (never, without her) and I search Google for honey chicken recipes. I charge my Kindle and wait for new books to download while I forward photos of my kids (usually asleep in awkward positions) to my parents. I edit photos digitally and save them for a (someday) family album. I look up tomorrow’s weather and Ry’s class pictures from her last field trip… all on the computer. I reorganize my Netflix queue and make a grocery list… on the computer. I pay my bills and I update the family calendar… on the computer. I watch Cosby Show reruns and crime shows and English brilliance after the kid have gone to bed… “to relax.”

Hear me: I love my computer, my phone, my tv. I love the quiet noise that tethers me- on my own terms- to the world outside of this farm. But the quiet noise has become loud and bossy of late. It grew from comfortable background static to aggressive intermission music where you can’t really hear the person next to you.  I was nodding and keeping up with the conversation, but barely. The soundtrack had taken over the story.

And I was a wreck.

[Psssst! Come read the rest over HERE.]

I can see clearly now.

What’s that you say? You need room to breathe? You can’t see the stars from your balcony? You don’t remember what the change in seasons smells like anymore?

I can help you with that.

After a long and barren winter, it does my head and heart good to see kids running around the backyard trying to catch a(nother) chicken. Bumpy wagon rides and cutting hamburgers in half.  Teaching the under-aged to drive large machinery.  Lemonade cups stacking up and a squeaky tire swing serenading 3rd and 4th helpings at the picnic table. We only saw the dads and the boys when someone got hurt.

Something happens out here where the screen door slams the kids disappear to hide from going home.  Where dessert is portable (um, ice cream sandwiches) to encourage more play.  Where old friends introduce new kids and the sun lies about how late it is.

These are the nights memories are made.

We’ve got room for you. Head north and a little east. We’ll leave the door unlocked. Bring the kids’ pjs (and maybe yours) for the ride home. Everything else is here.

bedtime prayers

In the interest of full-disclosure, I need to tell you that the video of the speech I gave for Rylie’s school in April is out there. Every hermit bone in my body is shaking. I am a dish best served on paper. Oh man. But, it’s an honest speech, and it was a good night, AND I do believe the people we have worked with deserve the credit I give them in the message. There you have it.

If you’ve ever wondered what I look like, move like, sound like… here you go. Please note: my hair does not always look that good. I do, in fact, close my eyes a lot when I speak. I know. I’m working on it.

•

Have you met my son? He’s just about the cutest thing on this farm. He makes my heart hurt in every way.

Most every night, Curt puts him to bed and they say their prayers. Sometimes I listen outside of the door. I don’t go IN because he’s still three and completely addicted to me and he would never sleep, but sometimes I listen.

Play this game with me. I’ll be Gideon and you be Dad, ok? You start the prayer and I’ll repeat after you. Imagine I have a cute, raspy voice that makes me irresistible. And, my pjs are clean but my face is dirty. And, I still have my baseball cap on. And, socks. I can’t sleep without socks on.

Now

Now

I

I

Lay

Lay

Me

Me

Down

Down

To

Sleep,

[Did your heart flutter?]

I Pray

Pway

the Lord

Lawd

my soul

mines soul

to

keep. Amen.

[I just always, always, always want to remember that.]

What was your bedtime routine as a kid?

 

success is not a finish line

[15 years ago, deep in the woods]

I’m not going up there.

I’m not going up there; I don’t care what you say or what they say… I’m not doing it. I’ll just be a loser and watch. I don’t care.

It sounds like you care, I said quietly.

Tell me what you think ‘being a loser’ is.

Obviously, not finishing.

Not climbing.

Not getting to the top.

Not ringing the bell.

Not doing what every single other person is going to do.

I’m not going up there, and you can’t change my mind.

I… Well, I don’t want to change your mind. Not about climbing. Honestly, and hear me now- if you hear me at all today, I don’t care if you climb to the top of that wall.

Whatever.

What’s the point if I don’t climb? Why’d we do all this stuff today? Why’d we learn all the lingo and do all the practice? It’s all building up now, right? It’s all building up to us climbing that wall and ringing that bell.

I kept feeding the rope through the ATC, my eyes on my climber already at the top.

She wasn’t finished.

And, I know they’re going to cheer me on and I know they want me to try and I know they mean well and they’re my friends- yeah yeah yeah. But I don’t want to and I don’t have to and… well, I don’t want you to make a big scene. I don’t want it to be a big deal.

I’m not going to make a scene. I told you, this is your call. I asked you to put on a harness and a helmet and you’ve done that.  If that’s as far as you go, and you’re good with that, then great. I’m in. I’m not going to push you up that wall, and I’m not going to try to change your mind. It’s your deal.

She looked at me sideways out of the corner of her eyes. They were beginning to fill up with the emotion her heart could not hold anymore.

Do you think if you don’t climb that you’ve lost? 

No.

Yes.

Maybe I just need more time.

Maybe.

Friend, today will not be a success if you climb to the top of that wall. Today will be a success if you leave here tonight with more than what you came with this morning. Today will be a success- for you- if you are one step further down the road than when you arrived. If that looks like climbing the wall, then great. If that looks like climbing the wall blindfolded, fabulous. If that means putting on an awkward harness and learning how to care for your team mates but NOT climbing that wall, then amen.  

I don’t want everything for you.

I just want more.

Do you understand what I’m saying?

I yelled up the top as the boy finished his climb (just short of the bell) and told him to sit back as I lowered him to the ground. As I unhooked him, he unbuckled his helmet and set it on the bench… ready for the next climber.

You are not a loser if you don’t finish. If you don’t reach the top. If you don’t ring the bell. You are a loser if you learn nothing today. If you do not stretch your heart. If you believe the lie that one finish line fits all. You go as far as you can. I’ll push you one step farther to make sure you’re honest… and that’s it. You win.

She was quiet for a long time. I unhooked myself and started prepping another rope… giving her time to process. When I turned around, she was standing there with the helmet on waiting for me to double-check her work.

I figure I can climb to the red mark. That’s a step above our ladder at home. That’s all I’m going to do.

That sounds fine.

I’m ready when you are.

And , she did.

And, she won.

•

For the past 7 weeks, Rylie has been going to church on Tuesday nights and practicing a dance with her friends that would be a part of the Mother’s Day service. Thursday was the dress rehearsal, and the girls got to practice up on the big stage with the band and the lights and the auditorium.

As we entered the room, a microphone fell in front of a monitor sending feedback through the system and out every speaker in the room. We all covered our ears to hide from the chaos. Rylie was terrified and inconsolable… and she left, running.

I stood there for a moment- unsure of exactly what to do. The tears began to leak as I realized she might not be able to do this. This might simply be too hard. And, I know we claimed a spot in that class and I know we drove to rehearsals for weeks and I know most would define ‘success’ here by seeing Ry up on that stage Sunday morning.

But what if she couldn’t finish?

It’s so very hard to remember that success, that winning, that being the best doesn’t always mean being the first or being perfect or being unafraid. That, for Rylie, simply moving to music… simply holding her spot in line… simply smiling in a crowd was winning.

I don’t want everything for her. I just want more.

Sometimes I am the teacher and sometimes I am the student.

Rylie and I talked a lot of the next coupe days about what might and might not happen on Sunday morning. She would wear her costume, I would bring earplugs, we would arrive early… but she would decide.

She- not me or the music or the thousands of people around her- she would decide how far she would go.

And, she won.

(that’s Ry in the back/middle with the pigtails)

(she doesn’t dance much, but she smiles a lot)

(she wins)

Gramma K

Today I’m over at MC’s Thousand Story Kitchen with a short story and recipe from my grandmother.  Join me?

my grandmother, Beatrice (Betty) with her cousin, Joe on his Indian

fresh air

It will not surprise you, if you’ve known me for any length of time, to hear that I once received 2 different shoes in the mail… in the same box. AND- I didn’t realize they were slightly different until after I’d put them on (on the porch… straight out of the box and fresh from the UPS man’s hands) and looked up to see a baby calf loose in the yard.  With no time to lose, I jumped off the porch and chased that rascal all through the yard and through several pastures and piles of poo.  It was not until Baby was safe and secure that I sat down again and realized… LAWD, Kate. They sent you 2 different shoes. And now they’ve been worn outside AND are covered in mess. SO. RAD. Apple pie, anyone?

Y’all are nodding right now because that’s just something that happens in my world. I know.

What’s surprising is that I emailed Zappos.com customer service and explained myself. I explained myself, I apologized for the ridiculous situation, and I asked for a discount. I figured a request for an exchange was going a bit far considering, and I just thought I’d take the long shot and ask for a discount credit.

What could I lose? 

Paul emailed me back the same day.

And he restored my faith in people.

I wish I could buy him dinner.

Wherever you are, Paul, thank you. Thank you for playing along, for making me laugh, for fixing the problem, and for having a good time.  High-five and power to the creativity, Man. There’s an apple pie here on the farm with your name on it.

Here’s his email to me:

•

Hello Kate!

Thank you for contacting the Zappos.com Customer Loyalty Team. My name is Paul, er, I mean… Captain Anomaly! I will be happy to use my super powers to aid you today!

I am very sorry that you received defective shoes (and for the pesky cows thinking they can just hang out in your yard. Darn teenagers! Er, cows!). Neither of those are a normal occurrence, nor is it indicative of the high quality of service and products we strive to provide our customers. Luckily for you, I was recently in an experimental lab explosion involving a lamp, a giraffe, and an expired pack of Bazooka bubble gum. Now, I have some totally awesome WOWing powers that I can use to take care of this for you!

KAPOW!

Whoa! What was that?! Look closely, do you see it? If I use my super vision, it appears to say… 126478842. What does it mean? That, my friend, is the reference number for your new order. Those are the New Balance Classics W574 in Blue/White, size 7.5 Medium. Just like when I am flying, this package is moving with super speed, and should be arriving to you on 5/1! Using one of the plethora of powers in my arsenal, I have transferred the funds over from your original order to this new one, so that you were not charged at all.

WOOSH!

Oh gosh! Did you witness what just took place? Quickly, look to the inbox of your e-mail. You should see a few e-mails from us, but one of those will contain a link to your prepaid UPS return label! Just put that first item back into the original packaging and tape that new label on the outside with clear tape. Please be sure to remove the old shipping label, or cover it up entirely with the new one. Then just drop that package off at any UPS store within the next two weeks.

BLAMMO!

Holy smokes! What could have occurred just now?! I have used my laser vision to vaporize that poor customer service experience and created a coupon for you to help mend your online experience wounds in this troubling time.

That coupon is for $15 and is a one time use, non-refundable coupon that can be used on your next order within 90 days. Please accept this as a further apology for what has happened. The code to use that coupon is below for your convenience.

Hopefully this will help you with your unfortunate shoe situation. I have added some notes to have our warehouse double check that new pair for quality before sending them out to you, and to warn them of the potential cow remnants upon the returning pair, so those will definitely not be sent out to any other customers. Alas, I do not have any immediate solution for the cow predicament, but I will try to think of something and head back down there pronto! Now where did I put my knee pads and cattle prod…

If you need anything else, I would be glad to fly down there and assist you. Permitted that I am not busy fighting the evil Doctor Normality, my bitter adversary. Captain Anomaly, awaaaay!

The inconspicuously clad “Captain Anomaly”,

Paul

Customer Loyalty TeamZappos, Inc.

•

After reading this, Trace said, “We need more of this in the world – lightheartedness – laughter – imagination – giddiness – and superhuman problem solving skills.”

Amen, Sister.

Amen.

eh

After my literal 15 minutes of fame last Thursday, I calmly walked off the stage (without falling) and took my seat. I was overwhelmed with relief and absolute elation afterwards… so much kindness, so much encouragement. An oasis of a night in a desert of a year… or two. Look. Even my hair was totally behaving. It was incredible. Thank you, Kelly.

Friday brought the realization of a HUGE work project for Curt at Camp Roger- his whole company came out and raised a new rope swing out over Little Bostwick by hand. It had been in the works for so long! The goal was to give to the camp, of course, but also have a huge team-building day for the folks at Wolverine Building Group… so we prayed long and hard for good weather, strong steel, and no ice.  Curt lost more sleep over those 2 telephone poles than any other construction project I’ve seen in the past year. And Friday? 65 degrees. Sunny. Smooth sailing perfection couldn’t have gone better. SO LOVELY.

Check TWO crazy things off the list.

And then, I was up to bat again.

[It was a ridiculous week. I'm still sleeping it off.]

I had volunteered to host the Grand Rapids/Holland chapter of the (in)RL 2013 meet up. There’s this fabulous free webcast for women each year… this year it focused on staying in community when community is hard. Appropriate, no? Friday night was a watch-at-home session and then Saturday, all over the world, women met up in-person to watch the other sessions and have some conversation.

So, ok. I can do this, right? I’m a hermit, but I’m making great strides. I even gave a speech early this week!

Cue my co-host emailing me 2 days before and saying she had to bail for family reasons.

Still ok. She dropped off snacks ahead of time, I loaded up decorations, I bought name tags, my hair was still looking good. I’m in. I’m in because this year they’re talking about staying in community when it’s hard and awkward and this is not lost on me. I’m in because I don’t mind the hour drive there and the hour drive home in gorgeous weather… ALONE. I didn’t even turn on the radio, People. It was glorious.

And I arrived and I decorated and I set out all the handouts and the gifts and the snacks and I waited… I waited for the other 25 brave RSVPs to walk through the doors. Twenty-five strangers who would spend the afternoon together and stretch their community arms a little bit. Twenty-five people who wanted to meet-up beyond the regular (in)courage blog posts we read every day.

And five of us showed up.

Five.

And I thought, I honestly thought- at 10:35am when it was obvious this was IT, time to fish or cut bait- what in the world is even possible here?  I was so ready! I had tried so hard! I had driven so far! I was scared, too! Totally not fair.

That’s what I thought.

And then I thought, screw it. We’re doing this thing. Roll tape. Pass the chocolate.

What followed was 4 hours of fresh conversation, honest questions, and Godly effort from 5 women who stuck it out.  We left with books and cute mugs and leftovers for our family table. We left with questions about what steps God was asking us to take (and, no, He is not asking me to wake up at 5am) to better our families, we left encouraged by the women we watched on-line and their stories… which sounded remarkably like our own.

I didn’t think it would work.

God, apparently, does not work through RSVPs… he works through willing hearts. And He blesses effort. Even tiny, hesitant, nervous effort. He does not care about numbers or decorations or gluten-free or tamed hair. He cares about community. Community with each other that leads to community with Him.

Will I do it again? You bet. Next year- I’m hosting. But on different, calmer, gentler terms. It will be here… at my house… with my dirty floors and my great food. It will be here… with friends I want to share the day with and strangers who need a welcome mat. It will be here… and I will not count RSVPs. I will not count RSVPs or left overs or miles or extra pens.

I will simply open the door and welcome willing hearts in.

Amen and may it be so.