KISS ME, I'M IRISH

Keeping it real... Second grade. Later we used the yardage from this shirt collar to sew matching playclothes for my siblings.

Everyone is honorarily Irish on St. Patrick's Day.  And that alone is reason to celebrate.  But this year we're clicking our heels a little higher, with a little more green in our teeth than ever before.  Not saying that last part's a good thing, it just Is. 

The first time I watched Irish dancers prancing around like reindeer in green velvet dresses, the hair stood up on the back of my neck and tears ran down my cheeks.  Celtic harp music entrances me, and looking for four leaf clovers can never creep too high on a list of things to do.  

Remember Grandma Annie's clovered lawn sibbies? She told us she'd found a lucky clover there. That kept us tweezing through a sea of green the rest of the summer.

In high school I spent one long night converting an AP English essay titled "I Conquered A Monster" into rhymed couplets - no extra credit ... I just couldn't help myself.  And now I know why.  I'm Irish!

Shout out to all you West cousins out there. Get your green on, cause you're more Irish than you know.  While searching out our British ancestry for Lauren and Dal, who live in Sunningdale England this year, I found them.  

Four full blooded Irish lines through Grandma Lerona who fled the green isle in the 1850's due to extreme famine and longstanding oppression under English rule.  They were James Nathaniel Walker of Newry County Down and Jane Lynn Patterson of County Down, William Richmond Scott of Ballyreagh Antrim, and Mary Jane Maginess from Gilford Down.

To get a feel for who these people are, I took a brisk walk through Ireland's history and yikes. "Luck O the Irish" is really, actually the kind of luck you don't want to have.

Simple Horizontal Celtic Knot

Land of Happy Wars?

After centuries of invasion and enslavement first by the Romans (until 500 AD), then Celts, then Vikings (we're at  700 AD now), blending until frothy when the Norman invasion in 1100 rolled in. This marked the beginning of some really creepy direct English and later British control of Ireland. 

By creepy I mean, as the Tudor Monarchs sorted out their succession issues, each shift from Catholic to Protestant triggered a blood bath over Ireland that left an indelible mark. 

When Henry VIII (6 wives guy) went Protestant in order to obtain his first divorce, Irish Catholics were slaughtered by the thousands and fled northward. When Catholic "Bloody Mary"(Henry's first child) slipped into her crown after little stepbrother Edward VI died, she had 300 Protestants burned at the stake and Irish Catholics breathed easier again. 

They began to move back Southward slaying Irish Protestants in revenge. 5 years later when Mary dies, her half sister Queen Elizabeth I jumps in to swing the pendulum back in favor of Protestantism in 1558 for the next 50 years and there we go again. Another 100 years of Irish revolts, English squelching, then Irish rebellion. AntiCatholic Cromwellian Wars, oppressive English laws and confiscation of large amounts of Irish lands.

So many times the Irish came within inches of emancipation from England, just to be thrown back to their former cycle of prejudice and oppression. When you see what's known of the history of this rocky, green island half the size of Utah, you get a flavor for the comprehensive irrelevance of the soul of man to the political powers that moved Western civilization.

The 'divine right' of kings enforced by all sorts of shenanigans on the part of the neighboring English monarchy, was about all the divinity you can find in the whole mess of the Irish question of sovereignty.  Even more absurd is how all the atrocities and slaughter were done upon the auspices of "God's Will".

During the Great Potato Blight in 1845, a key English government administrator over relief efforts to the Irish, Sir Charles Trevelyan described the famine as an "effective mechanism for reducing surplus population" as well as "the judgement of God" and felt England shouldn't interfere. By his influence government subsidy was cut off, leaving a million Irish people who'd paid long lives of servitude to the crown to die of starvation, while Englishman gorged themselves on corpulent multi-course meals several times a day. 

That dark past combined with the devastating Potato Blight prepared millions of Irish to flee elsewhere for a new start.  As a million out of 6 million inhabitants of Ireland die of starvation, another million five flee to the United States, Europe, Australia and Argentina.  By 1856 there are more Irish people in NYC than in Dublin.

Today, Ireland is divided between the independent Republic of Ireland (Free Ireland), primarily Protestants who won their independence through guerrilla warfare on British interests and police forces in Ireland (1919 to 1922), and Northern Ireland (Not-free but British Ireland), still peopled by a mix of Protestants loyal to the crown and Catholic Nationalists who want out of the UK and into Free Ireland.  


'Black and Tans' refer to an army recruited by Winston Churchill in 1919 during the Irish war of independence to maintain control and fight the IRA by launching attacks on civilians and civilian property in Ireland. At the end of this war of independence Free Ireland emerged.

Northern Ireland still remains a hotbed of resentment and prejudice. Sharing the power between Irish Brits and 'not wanting to be Brits', Irish Catholics and Protestants has been too hot to handle. Decades of discrimination against the Catholic minority over housing and jobs continue fueling bitter resentment and quasi civil war that has taken thousands of lives since. 

Throughout the 1970's, 80's and 90's, military groups on both sides have waged violent campaigns, bombings, shooting on open crowds of people, snipper attacks on police, soldiers, politicians, cats and dogs...anything to pursue their goals. It's the IRA vs. Loyalists, all of them Irish, and it's not a pretty sight. I saw bits of this on the news in high school, but never wrapped my mind around why?

And I guess I still don't get it. Irishmen may have the soul of a poet, but the emotional makeup of a junkyard dog.  Let. It. Go. Guys. And feel the LOVE. There is land O plenty, somewhere that's green. 

Irish Celtic Eternal Love Knot

Happiness

A happy result of all the sorrow the Irish have seen was the massive dispersion, BOOM, in the 1850's that brought my Irish grandpeople to America.  Now, over 150 years later,  nearly 12% of Americans claim an Irish ancestry.  And the world is now filled with some pretty awesome Irishness. 

So, if corned beef and cabbage sound magically delicious to you too, you're among some fairly high profile friends.  The Irish are wordsmiths, musicians and entertainers with an inclination toward the 'Blarney' that also makes the land of leprechauns so delightful.

Four Irishmen have won the Nobel prize for Literature; William B. Yeats,  Samuel Beckett, Seamus Heaney and George Bernard Shaw.  That's a tiny piece of real estate to spawn such a way with words.

Ireland is thought by some to be the most musical country in the world.  Harp, wood flute, fiddle, Uilleann pipes (a kind of bagpipe pumped with the elbow) and guitar, all sing the poetic songs of sadness and love lost.  Maybe it's because sometimes music was the only weapon the Irish people had.  

U2, Van Morrison, and 3 of the 4 Beatles; John, Paul and George all are 10-25% Irish. The list of American singers with Irish in their blood might surprise you too, Kelly Clarkson, the Jonas Brothers, Christina Aguilera, even Beyoncé and Rihanna.

The art of storymaking, dancing and entertaining is also an Irish trait: John Wayne, Gene Kelly, Gregory Peck, Bing Crosby, Errol Flynn, Judy Garland, Robert De Niro, Ryan O'Neal,  Harrison Ford, John Travolta, Robyn Williams, George Clooney, Mel Gibson.


Yep, even Bill Murray, Rosie O'Donnel, Chris Farley, Will Ferrell,Matthew McConaughey, Robert Downey Jr, Paul Giamatti, Tom Cruise, Bonnie Hunt, Josh Hartnett, Ben Affleck. The ladies Jennifer Aniston, Anne Hathaway, Lindsey Lohan, Hilary Duff, Amanda Bynes, Drew Barrymore,  and not surprisingly.. Brian Regan.  "Say 8, say 8."

At least twenty-five presidents of the United States have Irish ancestral origins, including George Washington and since John F. Kennedy took office in 1961, every American President has had at least 10% Irish blood, until Obama that is. Even the White House was designed by an Irish-American, James Hoban and Commodore John Barry, born in County Wexford, Ireland was the father of the United States Navy.

You know you're Irish when...you don't know how to make a long story short. Yep, this post is over. 

So, kick up your heels people.  Don't be a bogger,  raise your glass to the beloved Irishness in us all.

A toast,  "As you slide down the banisters of life,  may the splinters never point the wrong way."

Easy Irish Recipes

For our St. Patricks dinner this year, we went all out.  Corned beef with cabbage, Colcannon, Cream O'Cabbage and even Irish lime cabbage gelatin with roasted walnuts.   #toolegittoquit

So, we had a little more green caught in our teeth. Hey, green's good today, right? 

Of everything on the table, these two were the most well received. In fact, they're keepers. Got them from an Ireland born Irish woman here in Bend.  Trot it out for St. Patty's day or anyday.  Delicious!

Colcannon

Just take your favorite mashed potato recipe, throw in some microsliced kale to boil with the potatoes and "spuds o blarney"  you've got dinner.  This is an inexpensive dish that is great for feeding a lot of people in a hurry on the cheap.  What's more, according to the "Food Lover's Guide" Colcannon is actually more traditional an Irish meal than Corned beef and cabbage. 

O' Nellie's Cream O' Cabbage

1 large head of cabbage

1/2 cup cream

Salt and pepper to taste

Grated Cheese

Breadcrumbs

Salt & black pepper

Shred cabbage, steam it in a 4 qt cooking pot with 1 cup cream on medium heat until tender - about 18-20 minutes. Stir every few minutes to prevent singeing. Season with a little salt and pepper and cover with lid. When cabbage is cooked all the way through and ready to eat, place in an oven safe serving dish, cover with grated cheese, top with breadcrumbs and brown under broiler until breadcrumbs are golden.

Enjoy. 

May you live as long as ya want. And never want as long as ya live!

For more family friendly recipes from around the world check out The Feel Good Cookbook

at MyFeelGoodFoods.com

A HIGHER LOVE...

The day I discovered bleach sponges I was so pumped I opened the Master Bedroom window and shouted from the rooftop. I’m weird like that. And a magical fluff of fairy dust poofs each time I find another use for this powerful little tool.


Black scuffs pop off of woodwork and walls. Burnt, glazed on food flees from stovetops and cookware. Even hard water stains fly away from drinking glasses and shower doors with a wink and a smile. But what stunned me last is how they even lift smeared dried superglue from a beautiful varnished wood tabletop. #miraclesRtrue #loveinasmallwhitesponge


But this year I’ve found something even more powerful to improve my life than Mr. Clean magic bleach sponges.  I’m reading the instructions and playing around with this tool, trying it out in a wide variety of situations and well, it’s time to talk.


At Thanksgiving our 22 year old Tanner ran with me one morning along the rushing Deschutes River and opened up about his recent breakup with a girlfriend. Being the dialed in Mom, I listened carefully to his story and as we rounded the halfway mark offered these comforting words. “It just seems to be the nature of dating son. Either she’s more serious about you or the other way around. And then, you find someone that shares your feelings mutually…and it just works out.”  Tanner stopped running. “Mom, you’re not listening to me.”


I thought I was. I heard the details of how it happened and asked leading questions. I was just waiting for the right break in the conversation to offer my reassurance that he was still within the range of normal,...that everything would be okay. Taken aback, I apologized, zipped my lip and said, “tell me more.” I would prove to both of us that I actually was a very good listener.


He continued pouring out his heart for another 10 minutes until our river loop was complete. As we began slogging up the river canyon wall to our home I offered him one more soothing assurance. “Jamie doesn’t know what she’s given up. And I know there is someone out there even better for you.”  He cut me short, “Mom, you still aren’t LISTENING to me!”


I told him I was trying to listen, but I didn’t know how to do what he was asking me to do. I fought back tears…and lost. And he struggled for words to convey his feelings. He hugged me and apologized for making me cry. And we both walked away from it feeling a little raw and still wondering what it was all about.


Fast forward a week. I’m devouring a concept I hope will help me set boundaries on my time without feeling guilty about it, which it totally does, but oh…it is so much more.


Have you ever been listening to someone talk and thought, “if you could just see your problem the way I see it, the problem is solved” or “hurry up and finish what you're saying because I’ve got something to say that is just what you need”? If so, this principle will be a complete revelation to you. And you will know the truth of it by how it feels.


Imagine being the kind of person that quiet adults, small children, grumpy teens, and heartbroken young adults would open up to. And while you’re magnetizing this open sharing of inner feelings you are empowering others to solve their own problems. At the same time you feel more and more free of burden in your significant relationships AND the connections are actually being strengthened and enriched…all by the presence of this simple tool.  Are you IN I say?


It’s called the art of human validation. And it’s listening like I’ve never quite done it before. I just didn’t know how.


There are many helpful books written about it, and the shortest, sweetest I've found is “I Don’t Have To Make Everything All Better” by Gary and Joy Lundberg.


Here’s a brief summary:
1) Be an effective validator (which is not at all what happened that day on the river run with Tanner.) It requires a new goal as you listen and a new vocabulary of validating phrases and questions.
2) Leave the responsibility where it belongs, while still offering help. (I did NOT see that coming. I mean, who knew that was possible?)
3) Acknowledge Emotions, beginning with your own and then others.
4) Develop the Art of Listening
5) Find the right time to teach (almost never in the moment you think of it and often hours later. Teaching is needed far less than I realized.)


I read just one short chapter a week and then practiced implementing it with my infant understanding, but it still works. The main idea is that EVERYONE on the planet shares a universal need including YOU, which is to believe inside:


 I am of worth.

My feelings matter.        

Someone really cares about me.


Write it on a PostIt note and plant it where you’ll read it often. Savor how nice it feels each time you do. That my friend, is the hot commodity that every soul craves, both to give and to receive. Thought it was the iPhone 5?.... It’s Compassion.


Simply by listening to another person in this new way, I bolster their worth, they feel loved by the gesture AND are empowered to solve their own problem. And it even works with people with whom I’ve been bungling it for decades. Reduced to it’s meanest terms, it is the act of climbing inside another persons head and looking out through their eyes. This is more than empathy; it's seeing what they see and telling them so.


It is a tender place really, so you don’t want to tromp around wearing boots in there. Well meaning advice, nudging persuasion, or even trying to cheer them up by shining away the problem will all squash the magic seed you've planted. Once you’ve nailed it (or even come close) and skipped entirely over telling them what they should, need or ought to do, a loving connection has been made between you. And the power is incomprehensible.


My trial run with this tool was with one of our teens who has talked to me less and less over the last few years and which I’ve felt completely powerless to change. I went into each of my interactions with our son with this new goal in mind, “get inside his head, inside the head baby, you can DO this!”


It still feels strange and new.  A few days after our first meeting inside his mind, he called me and said “Ugh, I hate my life, I am never going back to that class ever! It is the BIGGEST waste of my time”… “Oh,” I said, “tell me what happened.”  I whipped out my toolbox of validating questions and phrases and went to work, treading lightly and making my way to the goal, that little tiny chair inside his head right behind his eyes where I can see what he’s talking about. Once there I let him know I got him... mission accomplished.


The interaction was brief and clean, then he said, “gotta go.”  And inside my head I was doing a rambunctious victory dance. My boy CALLED me to tell me about his feelings! What a milestone. The yawning age of silence was broken and I could not contain my joy.


One morning our 6 year old Ethan flopped down on the couch with his little violin in hand. “I’m not practicing and I’m not doing the garbages EITHER!”  Instead of my usual patronizing “eyebrows up my boy, you’re almost finished” or threats “well, I guess we can’t have free time then” or bribing “let’s hurry and finish and then we’ll have a special treat!”  I ventured into the unknown.


“Hmm” I said. “Does it feel like…like there’s just so much to do and you don’t want to do it? (lame attempt, but watch) Then I flopped down on the other couch. “I think I might know how you feel…. Like this morning I woke up and I was just about to get out of bed, but then I remembered all the things I gotta do today and I just PULLED the covers over my head and said no, no, no! I don’t wanna get outa bed!”


Wrestling with my invisible covers, across the room he lay there watching me. I looked up at the ceiling thinking of how comfortable I was, just laying there being still. An instant later my reverie was interrupted,  “Mom, come on! Get your violin. Are you gonna get it or not?!”  He was standing there, ready to go. Inexplicable…it must be magic. When we feel understood, an elevating force bubbles up inside of us and we rise to our own challenges.


If we do not appreciate or empathize with a child's feelings, they grow up not appreciating other people's feelings. It's true. As parents we unintentionally teach children that it is not safe to express what they feel.


"I don't care how you feel about it, you'll do it anyway" (ouch). Not far from that sentiment is the confusion and distrust created when an adult says, "You can't be hungry, we just ate" and yet that growling, knawing feeling inside really does feel alot like hunger. Or "You don't hate anybody, you're just upset", when what you really feel is hate welling up inside. Once I and my child acknowledge their negative feeling, it honestly evaporates, at record speed. But if the feeling's denied, suppressed or buried alive, you're sure to see it resurface again, and again. Irrational fears; un-provoked anger and low tolerance for frustration all morph out of the child's buried feelings.


Soon kids figure that it doesn't matter what they feel, they'll just be told they are wrong to feel that way. They do what any smart kid does, they numb up, withdraw and consider feelings confusing, unreliable or just plain bad. Numbed kids grow up to be numbed adults who unwittingly model the same communication style to their children. Emotionally and spiritually you cannot lead a child to a place you've never been.


Which is why changing up the way we listen can have phenomenal cosmic power to heal ourselves and our families... and to give a leg up to generations to come. As I understand how huge this new objective for listening is, I had to know where the Son of God modeled it. It's just too powerful to be made up by man. Did He really climb inside a person's head and look out through their eyes?


The answer is Yes. The town is Bethany. The day is three days after the death of Lazarus, "whom Jesus loved." The sisters, Mary and Martha sent word to Jesus days earlier, that Lazarus was very ill. Instead of immediately traveling to Bethany, Jesus intentionally remains where he is for two more days before beginning the journey, which took another two days.


When Jesus arrives in Bethany, he finds that Lazarus has been dead and entombed for four days. He meets Martha and Mary in turn and Martha laments that Jesus did not arrive soon enough to heal her brother. The women understood the Son of God had power to heal the sick, they'd seen it many times before. He'd even raised up people who'd just died or were thought to be dead, but now it seemed all was lost. I mean, 4 days dead. It had never been done.


And how did Christ, the Son of God respond?  "Jesus wept."  Not because he was powerless to help make everything all better. Before showing forth his power as the Life of the World, perhaps He wept because he'd just sat down in that tiny seat behind Mary's and Martha's eyes and fully felt what they were feeling.


He stands as the indisputable model for life; of how to listen and really get what is going on inside another. He teaches only Love, for that is what He is. And this kind of listening is a piece of the love He gives. His compassion is complete.


But lo, a caution to this tale.  If I cling to all my former ways of communicating, I will FAIL. Some things I simply must let go:


No Buts About It
The word “but” as in, “I’m sorry you’re frustrated, but you’ve gotta do it anyway” or "I love you but I can't let you do this."  When encouraging or admonishing another, BUT cancels out whatever came before it in the sentence, usually the loving part. Drop your buts right here and you’re halfway there.


Questioning Why
Good questions allow people to communicate with mutual understanding.  Poor questions are offensive, create a defensive attitude, and shut down understanding. So, once you're really seeking to understand the other person, or to get information you don't have, steer clear of "Why" questions. They indirectly say, "Defend yourself" as in "Why did you come home so late". And they're often pointless as well. "Why did you spill your milk?" or "Why did you back out before the garage door was up?" Pretty irrelevant questions if you're really seeking to understand.


Questions that are easier to answer usually start with: How, What, When, Where, Do and Is. For example, "What happened that made you so late?" or "How did it happen...splinters of garage door across the street in the neighbors bushes?"


Get much better performance and greater understanding from non-"Why" questions. The best proof of their usual negative effect of "Why'd you do that?" questiona are the typical answers you get. "Cuz," "I Don't know," or a shrug of the shoulders.


One Sided Conversation
Let go of Questions that answer themselves.  “You want to be on time, don’t you?”  “Jesus wants us to be happy, doesn’t he?” “So we want to be nice to others, huh.” Answering your own question in the same sentence tells people there’s no point in participating in this conversation. You are telling them what to think or do and giving them a mini guilt trip if they feel differently.  Super hard to observe and change the words we use. But the alternative is, our words use us! What a trade I say, So worth it.


Advice is Cheap
The biggest let go for me has been telling my people what they should, need or ought to do..on a regular daily basis. "You should've been ready 5 minutes ago" or "You should try to see the problem from their side." "You need to be on time" or "Don't you think you ought to get up now?"

Instead, now I might ask, “Which task do you want to do first?” “What else needs doing before you're ready to go?" or “Would you like some help with _____?” "I'm so sorry that happened. What do you think you'll do?"


I am learning that the vast majority of my advice  “should's, need's and oughts" have been filling up airspace with heavy energy that settles down onto my shoulders and makes my people feel less and less free, even more grumpy, whiny and resistant.


When my husband test drove this new way of listening last week…wow. Nailed it. He created a soft place in my heart that has longed for this very flavor of connection. Everyone does. It will take a little practice, but it’s a tool that wants to be shared, especially between spouses and lovers. I am all for giving the most meaningful gifts of love, gifts St. Valentines may never know and Hallmark can’t put a price on.


You may be wondering how a book titled, I Don’t Have to Make Everything All Better could possibly be about Compassion. Check it,  I cannot really make anything all better for anyone.  I cannot unbreak the breakup for Tanner and his girl, or shine away the chaos in our teenagers high school classroom, or keep away the factors that will cause my people difficulty or pain. They must be allowed to feel what they feel.


When I fear what they feel, or deny it or fight it, I’m living in fear, denial and compulsion... and everyone’s peace and power fly out the window.


Yet, when I walk with and invite them to share (with my validating questions and phrases) with my eye single to reaching that tiny seat behind the eyes,  there is tender love, hope floats faster and they heal from within. My compassion connects them not just to me, but also to their compassionate Creator…merely by the way I listen.


No matter what we've been through in life so far, our potential for deep emotional connection remains – we just need to be shown how to grab onto it

Oh, and while you're grabbing, grab an extra box of magic bleach sponges.

Because Love is to share.

WINTER IN THE HIGH DESERT

Moist air and subzero temps make a delicate hoar frost

I've decided the snow speaks a different language here. It squeaks and groans when pressed upon. Wide radial tires or tiny booted feet. No matter, even when it's 2 inches deep. And mother nature giggles to herself as she sculpts intricate crystal lace on every vertical surface under heaven.


Ever seen an inch long hoar frost? It's a crazy beautiful thing in the bright morning light.

Winter came down to our house Thursday night. It twirled and twizzled gently on silver-toed skates and we are all kids again.

Teens wished for a snow day from school and just an hour or two later it might've been. Our car spun breathtaking donuts on 6 inches of snow over a sheet of ice in several roundabouts between home and early morning Seminary. But the next best thing, Early Release really did come true, allowing busses more time to return children home on much slower roads. And now we all know how every mile is two in winter.

In the last 2 days central Oregon has had a record breaking 30 inches of snow gridlocking neighborhoods and making highways impassable. With no snowplow service we towed Brett's sedan out to a main road where he worked up enough mojo to skate his way across the valley to the airport. The forecast said he'd likely not make it home that afternoon, which he didn't. And once our all wheel drive SUV could no longer float the sea of snow we too became snow bound. 

After the storm

Heavy storm warnings were issued Friday night through Sunday morning, and a group of teenagers had to be dug out at midnight and set adrift on spinning, floating wheels to unclog our driveway. City sports and all local events were cancelled yesterday while the Deputy Sheriff's office advised everyone to stay off roadways until warmer temperatures could melt the snow. Even church was cancelled for the safety of ward members today.

The funnest part of this storm is how so much snow awakens the inner child in us all!  Perpetual Mormon Mocha on the stove. Doorways piled kneedeep in winter wear shed and unshed by sledders and skiers and igloo building snowangels, pausing just long enough to pitstop or thaw frozen limbs, eat something warm and head out again. 

Because all our plans were cancelled, we've huddled together to watch Olympic greatness, read stories, thumb through scrapbooks and completely exhaust our stores of fingerfoods.

It's what's fun as junk about roadtripping, or dogpiling, or sleeping eleven people in an 8 man tent. Squishing up for warmth and comfort. It’s one thing families are made for. 

However magical, or icycle your winter is falling... in the depth of it we hope you find within you an invincible summer. 

Love from Bend,

Jonell

Aunt Nellie's Feel Good Mormon Mocha

2 Tablespoons melted butter

2 Tablespoons organic cocoa powder
1 Tablespoon Pero or Postum

1-2 Tablespoons honey

1 quart rice milk or almond milk

1 13 ounce can coconut milk

1/4 cup stevia

Blend and simmer.  Cheers!

HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM BEND, OREGON

Changes -  2013

Life begins where your comfort zone ends. If so, the Francis’ are livin’ the life. We’re learning the only way to make sense of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance.

In January Brett changed jobs to Plant Manager, Certified Planes Division at Epic Aircraft in Bend Oregon.  He swapped autonomy and weekend climbing trips for manufacturing multimillion dollar planes and even flying them occasionally.

Since relocating to Oregon Jonell is changing her questions from “why are yoga pants so comfy?” to asking total strangers “would you join us for dinner?” and “so why are you in grief counseling, what happened?” or classic mom style, “You’re from Utah, are you Mormons? No. Oh (awkward pause), would you like to be?”

Lauren and Dallin (25) changed continents in August for jobs in Fusion I/O’s European office. In Egham England, many changes let them know they’re ‘not in Kansas anymore, Toto.’ Dal traded his Toyota Tacoma truck for a tin can on wheels and Lauren’s home décor changed from Shabby-Chic to ‘draped wet clothing.’ They’re looking into why clothes dryers are turned away at UK borders, especially during this cold winter season.

Tanner (22) is in that map-less phase of schooling where you learn that it’s good to decide, but it is also fine to change your mind. He’s changed majors from Sound Engineering to Business Management (after dabbling in Finance, Rec Management and Music Performance.)  Today Information Systems (web design) feels like home because he LOVES to create. Hey, change means ‘different.’ And until he hits that 4 year mark in college, different is good.

Megan (20) is changing lives in Salta Argentina by shedding the gospel of Jesus Christ abroad. This girl is on fire! She is stretching and growing into her true eternal self more clearly and defined each week. She doesn’t just believe in miracles, she relies on them, every day. We love that she’s there. She returns in July.

Nate (18) stayed in Provo to finish high school leadership commitments. Living with the Francis Grands changed his home life from chaos to quiet overnight. He fills the silence with mesmerizing oboe and English horn solos to the night as he prepares for auditions with the BYU School of Music next year. 

Lynley (15), exasperated said, “Tell me we are not going to be THAT family…that lets kids choose their own tacky clothes.” Because of her fashion influence we are all changing outfits more often than we did before. If we look good, it’s because Lynnie’s on task.

Isaac (13) changed sports uniforms. All club level sports in Oregon mean Sunday games, so to keep the Sabbath holy he’s playing anything city league he can sign up for... now basketball.  He also plays percussion in band and is playing hard to get with the Middle School girls. To which we say, “Good on ya, bro.”

Joslyn (11) is all over Unicycle Club at school. She can jump over objects, turn a tight circle and go up and down ramps on one wheel. Woot, woot! Mixing it up with family life at home means changing her “ride zone” often. Remember that one time Joss found out riding on the dining table was NOT a good activity?

Alex (8) thanks God for this planet and often prays that angels will help everyone who needs help across the whole earth. One time he threw in “And please bless Mom that she can get a calm heart again.” Thank you Alex. Actually she was getting a bit snippy and uncalm just then. Melting and changing hearts is one thing he does easily and who doesn’t need more love like that?

Ethan (6) got intense one day. “Mom, don’t say ‘corner,’ say vertices, okay? Instead of a not fancy work, than say it!” He’s enamored with words – reading them, understanding their meaning (“What means a nickel?”) and changing them up at will. He came tearing downstairs dressed like a ninja and belting, “Evy buddy is Kung Fu Friday.  Hoo. Haa!” and dove headfirst over the couch. He warned everyone, “Don’t try this. This really hurts” as he did it again. He can change the mood from neutral to high octane fun in a heartbeat.

We wish you JOY as we celebrate Him whose influence makes all change for good possible. We have a personal, powerful Savior, who is more powerful than the problems life will surely bring.

He changes souls, who then change their circumstances. And we praise Him for this miracle in life. He lives! He is Jesus Christ.

                                                      Our Love to you this Christmas,

                                                                             The Francis Family




New Address: 19766 Thimbleberry Way   Bend OR, 97702

TRUTH...ON A BAND TOUR

Our son Nate remains in Provo this year to finish out high school as drum major for his marching band. Two years ago when he became drum major elect he invited me to go on tour with the group his senior year …this was the trip that mattered most, and now I know why.

Within weeks of his election to drum major, Nate learned that Timpview's revered band director of 22 years, Dr. David Fullmer, would be moving on to coach University bands and that our family may be moving two states away for a new job. It pained Nate that so much change would happen at once and that he’d have to choose between finishing what he’d started two years earlier and having solid family support his senior year. What to do?  Fly off and restart in Oregon?  Or stay and see his hard work as drum major come to fruition? He made the decision to finish what he began.  

As a Mom, I’ve have had both kinds of tears over Nate’s involvement with Dr. Fullmer and his tightly run ship. At first there were tears of joy as my 14 year old son threw himself into summer band, waking early, sweating it to memorize scales, pass off music and work it in the hot summer sun. This was teenage military boot camp and what mother of teens doesn’t smile upon emerging self-discipline? None, I say.

My heart warmed as Nate chided our family with Fullmerisms like “to be on time is to be late Mom. The only way to be truly on time is to be early.” On the day of his first (and last) tardy, he was called to midfield with other late teammates and told to “raise your hand if it was someone else’s fault you were late today.” Those who did were told to drop and give him fifty pushups. “No one is responsible for your behavior or your performance but you. Is that clear?” Phew. So glad he didn’t raise his hand, Nate and the group began running laps around the practice field to let that life lesson sink in deeper still. 

But I think I may have cried a sad tear or two when I'm the one being taught by Dr. Fullmer thru our son. When he censures me in fluent Fullmer, I usually smile..but then sometimes not.  What seems preposterously impertinent one second melts into the raw awareness that, "wait a minute, wait a minute...he might actually be right. Maybe I do need to clean up my act or remember that 'it's not all about me.'

Timpview has been known over the decades as the band that enters a competition, sweeps the awards (even from much bigger schools), and then sometimes-- doesn’t stick around for the honors. It happens. They wow the crowd with difficult music, great show design, great musicianship, artistic elements and precision footwork. And they remain one of only two high school bands in the state to wear white shoes with dark pants because they WANT their fancy footwork to be seen and appreciated. Yep, they are THAT band.

The same was true of this band tour. Timpview, now under the direction of Jared Hearld and a completely new staff, entered the Red Rocks Band Competition in St. George, which is considered by Utah high school bands as the State Championship. They came, they blew everyone away…and there was no one left behind to receive the overall award or the caption award for best drumline.

No, the band was gathering back at their hotel for a night of reverie and honor. It was Seniors night (the bandimony meeting) where upperclassmen remember and share band wisdom of the ages with the rest of their band family. They laughed, they cried. It moved us all. 

The next day at the Las Vegas Invitational, an even bigger band competition, a family recognized our tshirts and asked why no one remained behind the night before to receive the awards in St. George. I was at a loss for sure. It seemed a little snobbish to me that we split the scene. I knew Nate missed Sadie Hawkins the weekend before to stay behind and receive awards at the Davis Cup Tournament, but this time there were even more significant honors to bestow back at the hotel. 

After a thrilling qualifier and then finals with schools from Utah, Nevada, and California, Timpview placed fourth with less than a 3-point spread from first to fourth. It was tight at the top. Parents and staff watched intently for each super-cool trick or stunt to come off well. We tried to anticipate what the strengths and weaknesses of this years show would be to the judges, and wondered what could be done to build the program for next year.

The next morning at breakfast, band members had the voice recordings of field judges and were listening for feedback. Being a personal improvement junkie myself I longed to be right there listening but was involved elsewhere in the room. I asked Nate if he’d like to go over and listen in and he responded, “No, it’s never been about the awards Mom or what the judges think.” WHAT? You kiddin' me? You reach this level of excellence and you don’t even want to know what the judges are saying???

“No,” he said. “There are really only three factors in winning any competition a person enters and two of them you have absolutely no control over. They are: 1) whoever shows up to compete with you, 2) the preferences of the judges, and 3) your performance. It was never about the awards Mom, just the performance. We do it all for the crowd…and that’s all that matters.”

He left me…in shock and awe. In another minute or two I knew the truth by how it felt. Yet it was uncommon truth. I felt that too. I batted the idea around in my head over the long drive home.

To pursue the marks of success (ie, awards, honors, $$$) resonated with something profound that Victor Frankl observed after years in a Nazi work camp.

“Don’t aim at success—the more you aim at it and make it a target, the more you are going to miss it. For success, like happiness, cannot be pursued; it must ensue, and it only does so as the unintended side-effect of one's personal dedication to a cause greater than oneself.

Happiness must happen, and the same holds for success: you have to let it happen by not caring about it. Listen to what your conscience commands you to do and go on to carry it out to the best of your knowledge. Then you will live to see that in the long run—in the long run, I say, success will follow you precisely because you had forgotten to think of it.” (Frankl, Man’s Search For Meaning, p.xiv)

And so it is. Dr. Fullmer got it. Nate gets it. And now I’m beginning to understand.

Find your purpose, your inner “why” and pursue it with all you’ve got. For Timpview’s Band it is giving the crowd their very best show, every time.

Success in your endeavor and the encumbant happiness must follow precisely because you are so absorbed in your purpose that you’ve let go all thoughts of “am I happy now?” or “am I successful yet?”

Work hard to make the world a better place because of your gifts, and in time you’ll have both success and happiness… because you’ve forgotten to think of them.

Thanks for sharing with me!


Shameless Plug: Armed with my magical "dirt drink"  Exodus GI Cleanser, and Feel Good Foods Glutamine, on the first chilly night I administered to members of the Flute section who'd been sidelined by tummy troubles and closing airways. When Nate learned what'd happened, he apologized to his teammates for the gritty texture and added, "but it does work". Within about 10 minutes that hole in the flute formation was again filled and the band marched on. On day two I began getting requests to mix the drink for members of the trumpet section and then drumline. Even a few of the staff and band parents were blessed by these ready gifts from the earth to quickly relieve upset stomach and aching joints and muscles. Woot, woot for The Yeast Beaters Cleanse and Timpview Marching Band!

Nate’s favorite performance of his high school band career was their 2011 show at the Las Vegas Invitational, Sophomore year. Nate's the second Tuba (Sousaphone) from the right at the start. After that, good luck. Ha!

2011 Timpview Marching Band Show

Here is Nate's final show with marching band. Enjoy!

2013 Timpview Marching Band at Las Vegas Invitational

LETTING GO

Nothing like the seaside says to your whole soul, “let it go”. The rumble and roll of the ocean, then the calm of a retreating wave. And, wait for it… wait for it…another rumble and roll decrescendos to a flat, smooth,  “pshhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

When we changed home states in July my battle cry was “Life on Vacation,” and that went well all summer long. Hold the projects, productivity step aside, I’ve been all about playing with our children and making memories. The kids aren't getting any younger. Maybe I'm not either.

Now, three months later with school, work, and church responsibilities filling our hours, I’m scratching my head and wondering if the doubtfilled world was right after all about living life on vacation…year round… with 6 kids under the roof. And yet, I WILL NOT YIELD!

Drive it back into a corner, shave it close, reduce it to its meanest terms and then answer me, what makes a vacation a vacation? It’s giving yourself permission to leave it all behind. To let it go. It’s clearing your mind and your days in a few broad strokes of the deadlines and to do’s… to breathe first in, then out again, and then repeat. To observe, to laugh, become more mindful and love more deeply, just because you can. But it starts with letting go..

Repeat with me. “I effortlessly let go. I am free.” Then feel an ocean wave wrap up around your ankles, hang motionless for a moment, and then retreat, drawing with it all the bunched up tension, all hurry, all heaviness. For this moment…you and I are free.

As a recovering workaholic led by immense desire to pioneer a more funfilled life, I still carry a banner for “Life On Vacation”.  So, on the last holiday weekend before winter’s chill freezes central Oregon, I took the kids camping at the beach.

It began with a challenge from our eldest son Tanner to unplan the weekend.  “Pardon me, are those plans and expectations lurking up your sleeve Mom?" Let em go girl. Let. Them. Fly!

We took our sweet time getting there, (not our native mode of transport) stopping for snacks, brunch, 11’sees and late, late lunch. Whatever we saw that drew us we followed it; like a canine family chasing butterflies.  Living in the moment with the last fall berries along the roadside… playing on a rope swing out over a surprise lake, and exploring along it’s shore.

It was foggy, cold and just about dusk when we rolled into South Beach State Park to set up camp and bed down for the night. You never can tell with butterfly chasers, exactly when you'll get there.

It felt like we were Boxcar Children setting up a makeshift home in a strange land. Our site backed up to the ocean under towering cypress trees all knarled and hunched like giant loyal wild things protecting us from danger in the coming night. The boys went right to work setting up shelters while the girls made dinner, kale cranberry salad with sunseeds and gyoza dumplings. No popcorn and carrot sticks for dinner tonight kids!

Everyone was cheerful, even electric with excitement that for the first time in Oregon, we were at the ocean. We giggled more softly as neighbors shushed us. Hey, it’s 9pm and WE ARE ON VACATION!

We dove into the tent just as the rain began dancing on the rainfly. My sleeping pad was thin enough that I lay awake listening to the cadence of the rain.  And then of the fog horn. After half an hour I clocked it in my head. “One banana, two banana…Yep, 10 seconds”. 10 seconds on the warning blast about the rocky jetty into Newport Harbor. 

At 3am I was awake again with the sound of harbor sea lions barking on the beach. How cool was this? Campout AND a show! I unrolled two spare sleeping bags to get more padding and snuggled back in til morning.

At South Beach, nearly a quarter mile of dune separates the campground from the oceans roar. The dune didn't exist until Newport jetty was built blocking the natural movement of ocean sand up and down the coast. Over the last 50 years this 1/4 mile of new real estate has gathered and encouraged its own tundra; in the oldest part a cypress forest and then huckleberry bushes, merging down to a sea of tall grasses that carpet the dunes until at last they part and the white sand stretches out to the great deep blue. It is equal parts stunning and adventurous. We found deer, sea birds, a great owl and friendly red mushrooms hiding in the forest and grasses.

We needed no other diversion, and we really did nothing else but play in camp and on the beach. I cannot tell a lie, I DID gather a handful of cool local attractions to see and do from people in the know. But effortlessly letting go of that list made space for everyone to breathe in and then out, repeatedly…all weekend long.

We tidepooled around the boulders of the jetty, flew kites on the beach and chased the waves all day long, returning to camp only for want of food or sleep. Scratch that, we totally napped on the dunes and grazed on beach food when our people food ran out...wild huckleberries, seaweed samples and even some sushi (4 new inductees to the Raw Jellyfish Eaters Club. Woot, woot.)

Eureka! We’d recaptured the rhythm of life on vacation, and it’s stayed with us for several weeks now. And when life becomes a drill again, I’m learning the magic trick of effortlessly letting go the list.

Never say die my friends! Vacation is a gift you give yourself. But don’t wait a week, month or year to give it. If you are a dedicated “press forward” person like me, or even if you're not, go ahead. Power nap, stare out the window, sing at full throttle to the walls, do something that recreates you…heaven knows, the list will wait. When you return to what must be done you’ll be resonating at a much higher frequency, closer to joy, which is our native frequency by design.

So, here’s to a little more “life on vacation” for you and me both!

KEEP CALM...AND EAT BERRIES

Now that school is back in session, I’d give anything to preserve that carefree feeling that comes with summertime. Well….I figured it out. And I’m letting you, my friend, in on the juicy secret.

Shhh… EAT   MORE   BERRIES.

Blueberries, strawberries and blackberries are true super foods. Naturally sweet and delicious, berries are low in sugar and high in life preserving nutrients - they are among the best foods you can eat!

And every July and August in Oregon they are everywhere. Dripping and draping all over the landscape West of the Cascades, succulent blackberries line every roadway and riverbed and untamed patch of land as far as the eye can see. Blueberries can be hoarded cheep at “U Pick and Pay” places along the River cut canyons that tumble from the mountains of Central Oregon all the way to the coast. Organic strawberry farmers welcome picking your own delectable gems of juiciness along the McKenzie, and even Fred Meyer discounts huge clamshells of berries during the height of berry season for 4 quid apiece. It’s a veritable berry Barmitzvah!

Hard to be unhappy with that kind of gorgeousness going on all around you. I mean, how do you badmouth a fresh berry? Or anyone or anything, for that matter, when there are fresh berries in the house? It’s inconceivable.

Last week a fun friend invited us for a berry picking expedition. We loaded up the cars with kids, cups and containers and headed over the mountains to hunt for edible treasure.

6 hours later we rolled back into the driveway, tired, full of berries, purple fingered ALL, and still damp from our bridge jumping challenges on the McKenzie. After dining on all the fresh berries we cared to eat that week, a large berry stash is tucked away in the freezer to last until Spring or whenever friends come up for a little getaway (yes, that's you).

I especially love the random blueberry leaf or tiny stems that end up in my breakfast bowl, or the occasional greenish blueberry whose tartness reminds me that we did it ourselves…because we can.

You're invited, my friend. Add a few more berries to your life and extend the magic of summer wherever you are.

Favorite Banana Berry Smoothie (Serves 8)

4 cubes ice

1 cup frozen berries (Costco has our favorite Oregon Berry Blend for a great price yearround)

1 (13 ounce) can coconut cream

2 bananas (fresh or frozen)

¼ cup frozen OJ concentrate

Blend until smooth and dive back into summer!