• A Flower Within a Flower

    I like being here with Crystel in her dorm room on Oahu. She lies on the air mattress eyeing her computer. She’s researching how to replace her lost passport. She hasn’t been able to find it since applying for a job near Waikiki Beach. Her plans to travel to Japan and Guatemala are in jeopardy.

    I break the companiable silence. “How’s it going with the lost passport?”

    “After I’m done eating,” she answers.

    I laugh. Of course. Our sense of urgency is not the same. She’ll let me know when she needs help.

    Her dorm room is spare. The University of Manoa campus is empty. Jody and I had previously thought that other families would have done the same as we did: vacationed in Hawaii with their national student exchange family member for holiday break. Instead, students had only stayed a semester and had already returned to the mainland. Crystel would be alone for New Year’s and the following week before school started. Her friend, Allie, who had visited from Minnesota had also returned home.

    Lanikai Pillbox trail with Allie

    Jody and I had worried about Crystel being on a vacated campus and returning to her empty dorm room in the evening from her new job. We also didn’t want her to be alone on the holiday.

    During the Maui part of our vacation when I told her our concern she said, “Why don’t you come stay with me?”

    “You should,” Jody agreed.

    It didn’t take a moment for me to know that was exactly what I would do.

    32 years ago, when I went into the Peace Corps, volunteers received their initial training for the Kingdom of Tonga on Oahu. During the plane ride from Minnesota to Hawaii, tears flowed down my cheeks. In the airplane bathroom I tried to stuff them back in. With each mile I flew – watching the dot on the large airplane screen move closer and closer to Hawaii – I shed layer after layer of my life until I knew this to be true: I had been abandoned. I was that child, that teenager, the one who had been left to fend for herself against the sexual abuse that raged in our home. To protect my three younger sisters, I reported the abuse to the police when I was nineteen years old. My parents disowned me.

    I was abandoned.

    Hanakapial Falls

    I didn’t want Crystel to feel abandoned. To be alone. I didn’t want her walking on a deserted campus. Spending a week with her and seeing her life would be a gift. An adventure.

    Hiking Lanikai Pillbox Trail with her and Allie, visiting beaches, an arduous 8-mile waterfall hike on Kauai, and kayaking were a few of the things we did.

    It was on the Pillbox hike that Crystel asked me what I was thinking. I told her that I had been on this island before. How my past influences my parenting. She pointed a blossom out to Allie and me, “See that flower within a flower?”

    My children are a flower within a flower. They have the holding space – love – to be beautiful and a landing spot – their mothers – to feel safe and flourish.

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  • Stuff’s Happening: FoodTrain

    Why is it so difficult to write about what happened in November? The month began with foreshadowing that a health issue would require treatment in a three-to-five-year window. Nine days into the month, tests shortened the timeline to available slots for more extensive surgery the next week. By the middle of November, I had had major surgery, my first time being hospitalized except for delivering babies.

    There is a lot I could write about attempting to fill the freezer with food, set up auto-pay for bills, finish a grandchild’s Advent calendar and locate an adult child’s birthday gift within seven days. In retrospect some parts of preparation were successful, and some missed the mark. A hospital rookie, I packed a bag that included a hair dryer, curling iron, underwear, t-shirts, leggings and more than one book. Weak during that first shower I was very happy with clean, natural hair. Nurses didn’t want a t-shirt sleeve in the way of monitors, cuffs or iv’s. My attention span didn’t last through a comparison of humidifiers much less beginning a new novel. 

    Returning home was great. Our daughter had stocked individual meals for a few days. She and our daughter-in-law made Thanksgiving dinner. My plan to fill the freezer had dropped off the earlier lists. Something much better happened: MealTrain, coordinated by friends, some from our neighborhood and some from other parts of our lives, created a predictable safe zone as we figured out how to get through each day. 

    For two weeks the kindness of friends fed us one hot meal each day. Pasta, soup, quiche, chicken marsala, tacos, pork tenderloin, hot sandwiches, each supplemented with salads, vegetables, and breads. Sometimes homemade bread. Plus our friends believe in dessert. One Sunday brunch was delivered and served to our entire family, an incredible gift on many levels.

    My husband received daily notices from MealTrain telling who was bringing dinner and what was planned. These wonderful friends gave generously of themselves showing up every afternoon with food and a few minutes of visiting. They saved Tom, who does not cook much, a lot of stress while making both of us feel supported and inching toward ‘normal’ as we sat at our table eating dinner. 

    Stuff happens, some scary and necessary, some amazingly helpful and kind. To all involved, thank you. Take care.

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    One response to “Stuff’s Happening: FoodTrain”

    1. Eliza Waters Avatar

      Best wishes for your continued recovery…

  • One Generation Gives Way to the Next

    When our sons were small, my husband and I invented our own customs for Christmas, because my parents and his lived hundreds of miles away. Making the holiday special was up to us. We missed our extended families, but we were free to do whatever appealed to us—there was no other schedule or tradition to consider.

    A few years ago

    We read “The Night Before Christmas,” filled stockings with candy, assembled big toys like the play kitchen, and added batteries to toy guitars and handheld games. We took a bite out of the cookies left for Santa and scribbled “Thanks!” on the notes our sons wrote (Santa has good manners). 

    As our boys got older and Santa became a sweet memory instead of an actual visitor, our habits changed. The four of us began cooking elaborate meals together—three days of them. Christmas Eve Eve’s dinner would be whatever the group craved—maybe Southern BBQ or cassoulet. An Italian feast (calzones, fagotch*, and homemade pasta) became a required ritual for either Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, and the third meal might be something fancy like Beef Wellington. Later we welcomed our sons’ girlfriends (now wives) into the kitchen.

    When they married, we understood some traditions would have to flex; after all, our daughters-in-law and their families have traditions, too. Changes have already begun. This Christmas the six of us will be together on Christmas Eve. My husband and I will miss our three-day extravaganza, but believe this is the right way forward.

    If we have grandchildren, I envision more changes on the horizon. I’ve watched and learned from friends and family who have married children and grandchildren. They’ve all had to adapt and invent new approaches to holiday gatherings. My brother and sister-in-law spend either Thanksgiving or Christmas with their married child and her family, but not both. Other relatives get together after Christmas, because their child’s divorce means accommodating two separate parents and three sets of grandparents. A friend doesn’t see her children and grandchild until New Year’s Day—scheduling the group at Christmas has gotten too complicated.

    My friends and family don’t relish being alone on Christmas, but they accept the situation and make the best of it. As grandparents, they are no longer the center of holiday celebrations—their adult children and grandchildren are. It’s their turn now.

    I expect changes will continue for my family. As my husband and I age and grandchildren arrive, we’ll adapt again and again. Gracefully, I hope. After all, this is how life is supposed to go. One generation gives way to the next. Inherent in raising children is the assumption they’ll become independent adults, and as a parent, I will be less central. One day, they’ll be responsible for arranging (and cleaning up!) our holiday celebrations, and eventually their children will do the same for them. 

    That’s as it should be.

     *The family’s phonetic spelling for a form of focaccia in which ground meat, tomato paste, fennel seed and other spices are spread on bread dough, rolled up, baked, and sliced into pinwheels.

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    12 responses to “One Generation Gives Way to the Next”

    1. LuAnne Holder Avatar

      Yes, that is how it should be, Ellen. My husband and I have gotten used to quiet holidays with no family. Our adult children are scattered all over the globe. I admire their independence. So we celebrate togetherness at other times. Like two weeks before Christmas we traveled cross country to visit one daughter and her fiancé and had a great time seeing lights at the botanical gardens near their house because they went to his family’s for Christmas. In a way it dots the whole year with holiday togetherness instead of pouring it all into a couple of days once a year. I hope you had a lovely holiday.

    2. Bev Bachel Avatar
      Bev Bachel

      Your post brought tears to my eyes and warmth to my heart. Thanks for sharing. And happy holidays!

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        Thanks, Bev! I hope you have nice holidays too

    3. Ann Coleman Avatar

      You’re so right, as hard as the changes can be, they are only natural. And they have their good points too (it’s nice not to stay up late on Christmas Eve, assembling toys!) As we age, our children and eventually grandchildren, dictate how our holidays are celebrated. And that’s exactly as it should be.

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        I’m trying to accept the inevitable graciously, but I also believe there will be joy ninth new ways. happy holidays to you and yours!

    4. Luanne Avatar

      Beautiful description of the flexibility of family to create and pass on traditions. We also created our own because we grew up in different religious traditions, so made up our own for our kids. I would love to have grandchildren to see if any of what we created is passed on to them.

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        Thanks for sharing your experience. You’ve raised an interesting idea. What I’ve continued from my parents is not so much the specifics but more the spirit of the holiday. Lots of love, fun, good food.

        1. Luanne Avatar

          Definitely lots of all those ingredients!

    5. Eliza Waters Avatar

      Our boys must be similar ages as Santa gave ours the same FP castle (we still have it in case young ones come to visit… it is a popular toy 😊 ). By high school, snowboarding took precedence over holiday traditions and they fell by the wayside. I still miss the gathering and feasting on holidays, but they are making their own choices now. We must give way.

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        Yes, indeed and there are gifts in each new phase.

    6. Karen Seashore Avatar

      when my mother died, we stopped eating lutefisk which, in her view was essential to keeping us Swedish for the next year. I still love the stories about my childhood rituals, but most of them have shifted by popular demand. It is all good, including the addition of Hannukah…

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        Thanks for reading! I agree—it’s all good.


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