In a world quickly being pulled into AI, we can be grounded when we remember the wisdom and clarity that lies within us, a gift from God.
One of the things that has amazed me in 2025 is the overwhelming creep of AI into my life, from vacation planning to finding answers to questions that in previous years would have taken me multiple Google searches and days to find. As much as AI makes things easier, it definitely makes me cringe when I see how fast the world is changing, from digital AI graphics, to photos that ‘never really existed’, to testimonials that we swear are real, but can be attributed to no human ever. How do we discern truth and grow in wisdom?
Tomorrow will be my 2000th day of a streak in the YouVersion Bible app, where before I begin the “rest of my day”, I spend time in God’s word and grow in my relationship with Jesus. I happened to notice my streak the other day, surprised at the proximity of such a large milestone. Focusing on a streak number is not important to me, but the pull to spend time with Jesus is what draws me in each day. Through that time of prayer and study, whether it is just 5 minutes on the craziest of days or days where I am continuously drawn into more, I can feel God’s presence. I can better see and understand God’s blessings and plans for me. I can better hear where God is calling me next. This is a wisdom that AI will never touch.
In years past, through meditation and reflection, I have focused on a word or phrase to begin a new year, such as Embrace or Joy. As I reflect on this past year and embrace 2026, I am drawn to the words, “Ears to Hear”. Only I can hear what God is calling me to do or where to go. The phrase “one who has ears to hear, let them hear” can be found numerous times in the Bible from the Old Testament prophecies to parables by Jesus in the New Testament. Crazy enough, AI tells me that this phrase appears around 20-25 times throughout the Bible…so it must be important.
In only a few months, our move back to the US will be complete, after more than three and a half years living internationally in Germany. I am moving back to my home state, but to a place where I have not lived in over 25 years. The amount of “newness” in 2026 is enough to make my heart rate spike and my stomach churn.
It was not that long ago that we were experiencing these same feelings of uncertainty, with selling our home and belongings and moving overseas to a new country. One visual that helped me immensely when we were moving to Germany was the podcast (and now book) by Emily P. Freeman, about how to walk out of a room. To summarize her teaching on this topic, she describes that when we end one life chapter and start a new one, it is like walking into a new room. We fear when we walk through the door to a new room, we will fall right through the floor. Emily reminds us that there really is a floor–and we will land. And in that new room, there are people who have been waiting for us to enter and will be so happy we have arrived.
It warms my heart to think of all of the people we have met in this new room in Germany, who are such dear friends and will be deeply missed. But I am reminded that when we leave this room and enter the new room in the US, there are also people there that are waiting for us. Some people we know already and love dearly. Some who we are yet to meet. There are new places for me to discover in this new room. New experiences. New opportunities. New ways for me to share my gifts.
When I invest in a daily relationship with Jesus, I best have “ears to hear” on which way I should go or what I should do. God has amazing plans for me and for each of us. We just have to listen. May we have “ears to hear”. No man-made machine can ever take that ability away from me or you. For that, I am thankful.
Reflecting on the gradual transition to a new and inevitable season of life: empty nesting.
It is definitely quieter around here. Not that she made much noise during her last two years of high school—she often retreated into her “nest” (our nickname for the top floor of our house, where her bedroom is). Still, we knew she’d come down now and then for food or drinks, join us for walks with the dogs, and wander the house in search of her cats. But now? Yes, it’s definitely quieter.
Our youngest has been away at college in the U.S. for over a month now, while her dad and I are back here in Germany—with her cats and our one remaining dog. We are, officially, empty nesters. I can confirm: her nest is empty.
People often ask how things are going in this new stage. I usually say, “It’s quiet and different, but she’s where she’s supposed to be.” Over the past month, I’ve been reflecting on what it means to be an empty nester. It feels less like the dramatic shift of stepping off a plane into a new country, and more like the transition between seasons.
Eventually summer shifts somehow into autumn. You start noticing a few chilly, rainy days, but you’re still wearing your summer clothes—no need to pack them away just yet. Then one day, a tree catches your eye with its changing colors. You’re surprised—how are we heading into another season already? But as the colder days increase and more trees change, it starts to sink in: yes, autumn has arrived.
Raising teenagers is a lot like that. It’s normal for high schoolers to begin pulling away—this slow, natural distancing helps prepare them (and us) for adulthood. When our daughter turned 18, even she wasn’t so sure she was ready for this thing called “adulting.” But this gradual change also gives us, as parents, time to prepare for life without them under our roof every day.
We’ve had children in our home for nearly 25 years. That’s a long season. So what does this next one look like—for me? I don’t know yet. I know it likely involves moving back to the U.S sometime next year, but beyond that, the long-term picture feels a little foggy. That’s hard for someone like me, who loves to plan.
My husband and I do have some exciting plans together—we’ve been preparing for this new chapter for a while. But for me, personally, what are the things I can touch, see, and smell in this new season of life? That’s a good question—and one that will take time, reflection, and prayer to answer.
So, now that I fully realize I’m entering a new season, I’m trying to give myself grace. This transition might take time—a long time—and that’s okay. With each new season comes new opportunities, fresh joys, and unexpected beauty. Sometimes those joys are tucked under a fallen log or hiding in the branches of a tree.
After the holiday whirlwinds, it can be so easy to jump into a new year and not reflect on the blessings of the previous 365 days. Easy to jump into a new day and not be grateful for the gifts in each day. But in reflection and gratitude, peace and joy can be found.
The Christmas decorations are finally all tucked away in their resting places for another year. Our adult children who were all with us for the holidays in Germany are back in the US, back to their lives of work and study. My new calendar has been placed on the wall and already has new notes handwritten on it. It can be easy to turn the page on a new year, a new chapter, and not reflect on the precious experiences of the past 365 days.
For years, before willingly releasing my consciousness to a night of sleep, I would list in my head 3 things that I was grateful for in the day. I wish I was able to write these down every day, but jotting these in a journal nightly has just never worked for me. Listing them in my head helps me to focus on the present, focus on my blessings, whether large or small, and helps send me into slumber with positive thoughts.
This past year, one day I felt God challenging me…”Really? You can only think of 3 things before you go to bed that you are grateful for?” Surely, I could think of at least 10 things before I doze off for the day.
I accepted the challenge and now before I go to sleep, turning the page on another day, I think of 10 things that I am grateful for in the day. God’s blessings are everywhere, and I really do not have a problem thinking of at least 10 things. Even on my worst days, I can find 10 things. If I can think of 10 things, I know my day has been a “10”. This practice has helped me to accept the gift of the day I was given, to put focus and attention on the most special parts of the day, and to guide me into a new day tomorrow.
But tomorrow is never promised. There really is only today. Which brings me back to my reflection on 2024. 2025 is not promised to any of us. But if you are reading this, we all experienced precious 2024 and all its ups and downs. That is very much worthy of pause and reflection.
So, I reapplied my list of 10 things before I go to bed, to reflecting on the past year. How hard would it be to come up with a list? Would it be challenging to narrow it down? I was surprised that my list came to me so easily, in a matter of a minute as I turned back the calendar to the previous year. Each one of these focused on people, as people and relationships make up a strong pillar of my life. (For my family – these are in no particular order as each one is so special).
1 – We were able to spend Christmas and New Year’s with all of our children and their partners. With half of us living on another continent, this truly was a gift as it never had happened before here in Germany. Together, we played board games, laughed, ate, drank, and traveled, just spending time being with each other.
2 – I am so grateful to have been able to spend so much extended time with my family and friends in the US this year, just being with them. A hidden blessing of living so far away is that when you travel over the ocean, you want to stay a while.
3 – My amazing husband surprised me with weekend trips to Bergen, Norway and Naples, Italy as a way for us to see more of Europe and not use his precious vacation time from work. (May we also recommend Lufthansa Surprise Flights, which is how we got to Norway last minute for a cheap deal!). Half of me is Norwegian and setting foot in Norway for the first time was simply a moment I will never forget. Those are my people!
4 – Early in 2024, I had the amazing opportunity to help our future son-in-law propose to our daughter in front of a stunning castle on a golf course. Another moment I will never forget, and we even had sunny blue skies on that February gray day, just at the right moment.
5 – Later in the year, I had the honor of being there in person with our daughter when she shopped (and found) her wedding dress. Milestone moments for sure! Video technology helps us feel connected to others being so far away, but I am grateful that for this moment I was there in person.
6 -This fall, I traveled to Georgia to see where our son was working in an engineering Co-op. As an added bonus, one of my sisters was able to join in the fun. We also traveled to South Carolina to see our uncle (who is a priest) and his church parishes there. I called it “Operation Sun and Son”! A success.
7 – For our youngest, 2024 was a very challenging year. As someone who battles migraines and other medical conditions, dealing with the German medical system here has been extra challenging to say the least. I am so proud of all she has accomplished as a senior in high school, despite all of her medical challenges. But the greatest gift was that she was able to begin a new medicine after turning 18, that has been simply miraculous. I hate to even say how amazing it has been, to not jinx her. But I do give thanks every day for this medicine and for the people who created it. Simply life changing.
8 – Well we bought a house in 2024. That was huge! The house isn’t huge, but if you play Monopoly, you understand the importance of having properties all together. This house is directly behind our small cottage on the water in Wisconsin. We hired an architect and look forward to making this our retirement home someday.
Our future Wisconsin sunrise
9 – I turned 50 in 2024! A big milestone! For 10 years, I had told my friends that I wanted to celebrate my 50th somehow in Europe in a castle. I had no idea that actually would happen. From celebrating the day at a wine tasting in a castle on the 50th parallel here in Germany, to traveling to Ireland and Scotland with our friends from the US, to celebrating in the US at our new home later in the summer, 2024 was year of leaning in on experiences and savoring the moment. These experiences are ones that will grow huge memory dividends in the future — moments that truly last and are what life is about (check out the book “Die with Zero” by Bill Perkins to learn more about memory dividends). We are a huge fan!
10 – Last but not least, this was the year that I realized that I needed to do some planning for our empty nest and put myself out there, leveraging my skills in my current world. I went back to teaching Zumba Fitness. I started an English-speaking faith community. And I even became a demonstrator for Thermomix. (If you don’t know what Thermomix is, just wait until I get back to the US. You will know then).
The next time you lay your head to your pillow, I encourage you to reflect on your day and think of 10 things you are grateful for. It is ok to have repeats! This simple act can help you focus on the present and your many blessings, no matter how challenging the day.
As I have turned this page into the new year, I realize that this coming year is turning the page on so many new chapters. A wedding. A graduation. A possible return to the US. Chapters that are full of treasured characters, plot twists and turns, and a common thread through it all: “God, thank you”.
A mom reflects on their emptying nest and the courage to write new life chapters, all part of one beautiful life story.
Our youngest of three, with a big grin, waved and boarded the bus in 2013 for her first full day of school as a 1st grader. “Now you can get some work done, Mom!” she exclaimed. Her funny quips always brought a smile, and even at that young age, she could see the challenge of balancing work and family. I was going to miss our special “bagged” lunches in my office, but I was so happy for her excitement to finally be in school all day like her brother and sister. As a preschooler and kindergartener, she had “worked” alongside me at our local church complete with her own desk and phone in my office.
How quickly those years flew by. Today, as she headed off to school for the last “first” time of her high school career, I’m reminded that I’ve been doing this ‘first day of school’ routine for 18 years. That’s a long time—a third of my life—and it’s worthy of reflection. Luckily, our youngest has aspirations of medical school, our middle child is still in university, and our oldest is starting her master’s degree this fall, so I can still look forward to the obligatory selfies. But it isn’t the same. There’s no in-person hug, no smile, no wave to kick off this special day. Every new beginning must be preceded by the end of a chapter.
As the nest gets emptier, it would be easy to fall into the trap of not knowing what comes next—wondering how I will contribute, how I will be needed. For half of my life, one of my main purposes has been to care for and nurture our family, equipping them to someday fly on their own. Now, it’s easy to feel less needed, reflecting on the past and gazing into a future that looks vastly different. But today, I was reminded that when you remember you are not alone, you can find strength and encouragement.
This morning, I hiked through the forest with a parent group from our international school. I enjoy this group, but on a hot, humid morning, where my “pity party of one” seemed more appealing, I forced myself to join the hike. Though the journey was arduous, my soul felt refreshed, and I found a renewed sense of purpose afterward. I met people who were experiencing similar feelings—grappling with the loss of something or someone and trying to find ‘what’s next’ and where to go.
I may have been the only parent on the hike today whose youngest child is beginning their last year of school, but each person seemed to be at the end or beginning of a new chapter. There were those mourning the loss of a career in a previous country, finding it challenging to work in Germany. A wife mourning the loss of her husband. A woman who had only been in Germany for a week, moving her family from Korea, struggling to find the English words she so desperately wanted to share to connect with others.
We listened. We shared. We walked alongside each other. I was reminded that what I am feeling is normal. It’s normal to feel uneasy at a big life milestone, at the turning of a chapter. A sense of loss. Trepidation. It can be tempting to stay stuck in the same chapter, but if the page does not get turned, the story will never grow.
With each new chapter, the book becomes more complete—becoming an even more beautiful story.
I am beyond grateful for the people who are such a vibrant part of this entire book, especially my husband, children, friends and family. And I know that just because our daughter is graduating next year, that does not mean my role as a mother has ended. As our adult children know, mom is just a text or a call away, no matter what the topic.
But, my book is expanding, continuing on with a new chapter. I am reminded to use the blessing of each new day, embracing my abilities and passions, to continue to write my story. I have gifts that go beyond motherhood, and there’s still so much I can do. I don’t know exactly where this new section is heading, but I do know that if I don’t invest the time and energy to begin this new chapter (and ask God to direct my steps), this book won’t be as beautiful and full as it could be.
“I heard you say that you wanted to learn English better. I’m not a teacher, but I’d be happy to meet for coffee each week to help you practice,” I offered to the woman I was hiking with today, who had just moved to Germany from Korea. Her face lit up. “Yes, yes, I would like that,” she immediately replied. I gave her my contact information and decided to say yes to this new adventure, one of several new changes in my book plot recently.
It’s time soon to turn the page on this new chapter, closing a long one of many years. There are so many new characters to meet, new adventures to explore.
Here we go.
“Now you can get some work done, Mom.”
Yes, I can. And I will. And I ask God to help and guide me.
How can one help a marriage strengthen year upon year? The ability of being home with each other, even when you are away.
My husband isn’t at home on a karaoke stage, nor in a choir or a Zumba fitness class. Similarly, I’m not at home on a fishing boat, in the woods hunting, or working deep within a technical, hands-on problem. Yet, we are home with each other.
As we celebrate our 27th anniversary this year—once again, from different continents—I’m reminded that despite the miles between us, those miles seem to vanish because we are ‘home’ together. I believe that in any marriage or partnership that endures over the years, there must be that shared feeling of ‘being home’ with each other, to navigate life’s trials and joys. ‘Being home’ means feeling safe to be yourself with one another. It means knowing your spouse or partner so well that you’re both committed to supporting each other in becoming the best versions of yourselves—and extending grace and forgiveness when you inevitably fall short. ‘Being home’ is about helping to make what nourishes your partner’s soul a reality.
Today, my husband is ‘home’ in our new home back in the US, working diligently to prepare it for our future life and feeding his soul through quiet and rest. Meanwhile, I am ‘home’ here in Germany, supporting our youngest as she begins her final year of high school. For the past three years, our anniversary has been celebrated across continents due to circumstances beyond our control, such as the challenges of helping our adult children with university moves while we’re overseas. Yet, even when we’re not physically together for these milestones, we’ve remained ‘at home’ with each other. WhatsApp messaging and technology certainly helps, but it still requires communication and prioritization—foundations that are essential in any strong marriage or partnership.
Over the years, we’ve lived in many homes, across the U.S. and now in Europe. I remember countless moments of uncertainty, not knowing where our next home would be—sometimes not even which state or country. Yet, we always reminded each other, and our family, that as long as we were together, we were home. I thank God for the incredible gift of an amazing, supportive, and loving husband with whom I’ve had the privilege of being ‘home’ with for so many years.
We’re not promised tomorrow, but we cherish the gift of the present. I am deeply grateful for the journey of the past 27 years—the ups, the downs, and the wisdom we’ve gained along the way. Most importantly, I am thankful for the gift of being ‘home’ with my husband. I love you, my dear. See you soon.
There are many weeks of my life that I could not recount the key moments when looking back. However, the events of this recent week will be a permanent part of my story as I experienced mountain top highs and the deepest valleys. The highs and the lows, their juxtaposition running concurrently together, reminding me “this is life”. And where my gratitude for the light AND the dark places in my life rests, there my heart, life, and joy is.
I recall my mother saying many years ago when she was alive that she thought everyone should have to take an art appreciation class, as she had learned so much in that university 100-level art class. As for me, I have a hard time discerning all the meanings in works of painted art. But when my friend (a trained artist), shared with me that in the most enriching and vibrant life, the highs are going to be extra bright and the lows will be super low, I could definitely visualize that analogy, especially after the past week. A week that was a complete roller coaster from the highest of life’s highs to the lowest of life’s lows.
Yes, even I can recognize that a painting is flat and boring without the striking differences of color and the use of light…and shadows.
My friend and I were walking through the forest, walking the dogs, reflecting on the challenges and joys of the previous week. I was sharing with her the details on how I was asked by our daughter’s boyfriend (now fiancé), to help pull off a wedding proposal to our daughter. He wanted something private and scenic. How exciting and I was able to take part in the planning!
I had ideas, one of a beautiful hike to Burg Eltz, a 2-hour drive from here in Germany. But nothing really clicked on how to successfully pull that off until I bumped into my local German friend, who I knew would have local recommendations. And… she did. She recommended the Schlosshotel Kronberg, just a 15-minute drive from our house. The Schloss (castle) also happened to be on a golf course, which our daughter is passionate about, featuring a breathtaking view of the Schloss from one of the greens. I checked it out several times in advance, speaking with the people at the front desk, and worked in secret with our future son-in-law on how this could work.
This was my view of the Schlosshotel when I visited earlier in the week to check things out. Stunning, but grey. It would have to do though, rain or shine.
When the day came last week, we were so happy to see some little bits of sun outside. In Germany, we only see rain and clouds and more rain and clouds this time of year. But that day was different. After a beautiful lunch at a local French cafe together, I invited her to check out this local golf course with us, saying that a friend recommended that we see it. Everything went according to plan and as I casually said, walking up to the 14th tee box as the sprawling Schloss came into view, “I need to tie my shoe, you go ahead”…that was his cue to keep walking hand in hand to the spot where he wanted to propose. I stayed back and couldn’t hear a word, but when I saw him go on one knee and our daughter jumping up for joy and then, their kissing and embracing…I knew that this was one of the best moments to witness in life. It was absolutely perfect. Peaceful. Quiet. Colorful. Loving. And the skies were even blue, just for that moment.
The day of the proposal, just several days later from when I visited. Simply perfect.
The view from our Airbnb rooftop in Athens
Fast forward 48 hours and we then were together as a family on our way to Athens, for a weekend getaway while our daughter and future son-in-law were here in Europe for a few weeks. We arrived in time to check into our home for the weekend in the Athens City Center and celebrated the setting of the sun with a glass of wine on the Airbnb rooftop featuring a beautiful view of the Parthenon. The special evening was topped off with an incredible Greek dinner outside, with some of the best Baklava for dessert. What a way to begin our Athens experience!
And then, the next morning, I woke to the news that my dad had received his biopsy results that we were waiting for, but not the results we had hoped for. Aggressive prostate cancer. In that moment, everything else in the world slowed and faded into the distance, making my peripheral vision cloudy and muddy. All I could hear was my heart beating rapidly in my chest. This news quickly sucked me back almost 24 years earlier, when we had received the news of my mother’s inoperable glioblastoma multiforme brain tumor. Is this really happening, I wanted to wonder? But I knew it really was.
And then soon after, we were faced with the juxtaposition of a new day in Athens. The e-bike tour that we had planned and were so excited for. The cats upon cats that our younger daughter was so excited to see. And dad, and the rest of our family, thousands of miles away, and we were there helpless.
I knew that we had to go on our bike tour, even though we were grieving and pained at the same time.
I reminded myself to keep putting one foot in front of the other, take deep breaths, and pray.
On our tour, the tour guide led us up to Observatory Hill where we could see the Parthenon in the distance. She offered to take photos of each of us and knew exactly how to make these photos original. Right before we were going to leave, I felt the urge to ask her to take one photo of me. She asked me to jump up in the air like our daughter, and crazy enough, I tried. And thought, I failed. But what I didn’t realize is that in looking at the photos afterwards, she caught snapshots of me laughing. Joyful. Amidst the pain. Amidst the sadness. Joy can exist in the pain.
The highest of highs can exist with the lowest of lows.
After our weekend escape to Athens, we boarded the plane and as I buckled my seatbelt and put my headphones in, my mind began to race to my father and his diagnosis. What’s next? I could have easily been sucked down with grief. But I decided I should listen to the Ash Wednesday sermon podcast from the past week by our former pastor, Rev. Dr. Lorne Hlad, of Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in Cincinnati, Ohio. And as soon as I heard his first opening sentences, I knew I needed to hear that sermon (you can see and hear his full sermon here).
In his message, Pastor Lorne talked about how we live in the tension of the uncertainty of this life and the certainty of death. He shared how we try to overcome and outrun these realities, however, we can’t.
He then asked, “What’s that like FOR YOU? …
In what ways have those two realities, the uncertainty of this life and the certainty of death, made themselves known to you in your life this year”?
Boom. I felt like a weight had just dropped on my chest. I knew God was talking to me through Pastor Lorne, thousands of miles away.
Through his sermon, he challenged us that perhaps the first step is just naming and facing those realities. “We are reminded, life is fragile, life is precious, life is fleeting”. It is easy for us to become ‘cynical or jaded’, but through Ash Wednesday we are reminded that ‘everything matters’. We are reminded of God’s faithful and overwhelming promises to us. ‘Every person, every breath, every relationship…matters.’ Then he suggested that perhaps our failure to recognize the value in all of those things, is what is behind our pain.
His words reminded me where my priorities lie and helped me process those mountain top highs and the darkest valley lows of the past week. His challenge was clear: for us to re-value precious moments, both the grand and the ordinary, people, and relationships. In doing so, we are to not be mournful about how we will all be dust someday, but to be encouraged and empowered, because everything matters. We can “re-claim our lives, ‘for where our treasure is, there our heart is’ (Matthew 6:21)”.
The next day during my daily prayer and devotion time, God led me to several devotional plans by the author, Kara Tippetts, who was a mother of four, wife, author, blogger, and died of cancer at the young age of 38. I had never read any of Kara’s works, but I was feeling called to read more of her wisdom, written down from her life years earlier. One of Kara’s quotes was “One of the things we’ve learned this crazy year is to enjoy the moments. The thing about suffering is it makes the sweet moments so much sweeter…The joy in the mundane feels so much more real when sadness has been walked through and tasted”. What a blessing she is still able to continue sharing her words of wisdom on living a life filled with joys and suffering.
This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Psalm 118:24
The highs. The lows. The light. The shadows. A life without the light and the shadows is lacking full definition and vibrancy. The more brilliance, the more shadows, just as in the most treasured of paintings.
With the brilliance and the shadows,
the greater is the total life experience.
Where can you experience more brilliance in your life? How close and present are the simultaneous shadows?
May we extend our gratitude for the brilliance and the shadows. All of these intertwined produce abundant living, an abundant life bursting with colors.
Here is to cherishing abundant living.
“I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly”
We long for the reassurance our loved ones who have died are ok. If you pause and listen, sometimes you can hear.
I was walking into the restroom at the Norske Nook restaurant when I happened to notice the song playing on the radio. I had not heard it before when my dad and his wife, Marilyn, and I were sitting at the restaurant table, relishing being at this special place. We had stopped at the Norske Nook for lunch on the way to Minneapolis to remember my aunt Jan, my Godmother, my dad’s sister, as she and my grandma had loved this place dearly. We were headed to her funeral after she died suddenly from a serious infection. It was a shock for all of us as Jan was so full of life and a joy to all who met her.
The Norske Nook is a small restaurant, off the freeway, in the small town of Osseo, Wisconsin. Known for an incredible selection of homemade pies…and all things Norwegian, from gifts to books.
After I ordered our food, which included a treasured plate of lefse, (a Norwegian potato “tortilla” spread with butter and sugar and wrapped in a spiral), I headed to the restroom. This is when I noticed the song.
Lefse!
“Don’t stop, believing”…I noticed the last few lines of the classic song by Journey as the song was ending. Soon after, the next song began. “I’m a Believer” by The Monkees. Usually when I hear that song I think of Shrek, but this time my interest was piqued by hearing these two ‘believing’ songs so close together. I immediately smiled, felt a chill in my body, and said “thanks Jan, you are in a better spot”. She truly was a faithful believer.
Jan had always been a woman who helped strengthen my Christian faith. When my mother died in 2000, she reached out to me through the years with cards, books, phone calls, letting me know that she was here and that she was cheering me on in my faith and daily life.
Before I left Germany to head to the US for her funeral, I had found one such book she had given me. It told the true story of a Norwegian boy during World War II and the occupation of Norway by Germany. She had left a note inside for me, saying she has found it at the Norske Nook in Osseo and had loved it. She wanted me to read it and then pass it on to my dad when I was done. So that is what I did. I read it on the plane and then gave this gift to my dad, from his sister.
Knowing that Jan would have looked through all the books on the shelf there at the Norse Nook, I jumped up to peruse and see what I could see. Immediately I saw a book titled “Laughing for Lutherans”, with the quote from Martin Luther on the cover that said “If Heaven does not include laughter, I don’t want to go there”. I grabbed it and knew I had to purchase it.
At our table, we dug into the book of Lutheran bulletin bloopers and funny little quips that people have said, and we laughed. And we laughed. As someone who worked at our church for 10 years and edited way too many bulletins and newsletters, I know that is not easy and sometimes funny things are printed or said. I knew I wanted to give this to my sister, also Jan’s goddaughter, and a youth director at her church. Jan would have picked that for us for sure. She had a great sense of humor. Once she saw that I had a Martin Luther doll in my church office (long story…was a gift)…she insisted we take a photo together with it.
We left the restaurant and headed to Minneapolis as her funeral was the next day. As funerals do, they bring family together who have not seen one another in years. Seeing so many family members and spending time laughing with them was so good for my soul. My sisters and my nephew performed a rendition of “Amazing Grace” with vocals, piano, and violin for her funeral. I know Jan would have loved it.
My time with extended family was quickly coming to a close. I was already at the airport the next day to return to Germany. My check in took only a few minutes, so I had lots of time to spare. I found a quiet spot with some tasty American treats to savor and was debating what to do next to spend my time. I was behind a few days in my online Bible devotional plan that I do with friends around the US, so decided to dive right in.
I sat there and studied and reflected for quite some time before I caught the song on the radio in that small cafe and it caught me by surprise. “I’m a Believer” by The Monkees was playing on the speaker. I thought “how could that be?”, thinking back to just two days earlier at the Norske Nook.
I believe Jan was telling me one more time she was ok, better than ok. She was in a much better spot, and I, should keep believing.
Embracing Second Half Wonders 