I mean really out.

Like – outside out.

Like – out in the pasture out.

Yes, I know it’s January.  Yes, I live in Iowa.

But it was a balmy 60 degrees yesterday and the kids had spent all afternoon cleaning out some fence lines. When Jan came home they hauled the wood and started a fire – a big fire.

Since they were already out there – and they already had a fire – we decided to pack up some  hot dogs and make it an adventure!

So – by the light of an almost full moon – we pulled up some stumps, roasted our hotdogs and made a memory.

After eating way more s’mores than we should have, the kids packed things up and went home.

But Jan and I sat on our stumps holding hands while we watched the fire turn to embers.

It was so peaceful sitting there in the light of the flames,  talking and listening to the coyotes howl – a real “country-style” date.

It was one of those sweet moments that can’t be planned, they must just be enjoyed!

The year was 1940.

Jan’s dad, or Poppa as the kids call him, was ten years old and growing up in tiny Kensington, Minnesota.

The school children were in state of great excitement as Christmas approached. Poppa was no exception.

Part of their excitement was the upcoming Christmas pageant. This was back in the days when shepherds,  angels and baby Jesus were an integral part of the school program, and Poppa had been chosen to read the Christmas story from the Gospel of Luke.

It was quite an honor.

To add to the excitement, the pageant was to be held downtown at Kensington Hall. The hall was large and boasted a real stage and two sets of curtains – the plush red velvet and an inner curtain of mesh that the angel choir stood behind – all adding to the drama.

For weeks the students practiced and prepared during school hours, as the excitement mounted for the big event!

Finally the evening had come for the performance.

The students all came dressed in their Christmas finery. Poppa was wearing his best suit and his hair was slicked back just right.

The program began on time and seemed to go without a hitch. The angel choir looked angelic behind their mesh curtain as one by one the students performed, building up to the climax – the reading of Luke 2.

Poppa stood in the wings nervously waiting his turn. He opened his Bible to look at the passage one more time and suddenly realized that it was pitch black!

They had only practiced during  school hours – when the sunlight streamed in the large auditorium windows.  With all the house lights off, he couldn’t read a word!

He frantically told the nearby teacher, who frantically told the next one, who frantically wrung her hands in panic.

Finally, the primary teacher, Miss Bovem,  suggested a flashlight. She said she would stand on the other side of the curtain and hold it through the crack so that Poppa could read.

A flashlight was found.

Poppa nervously stepped between the velvet curtains, cleared his voice, opened his Bible and waited for Miss Bovem to turn the flashlight on, reach her arm through the curtains and illuminate the passage.

The light appeared and he started to read the familiar words, growing more confident with each verse.

Meanwhile, behind that heavy velvet curtain, Miss Bovem’s arm was getting tired. She supported it with her other arm and leaned slightly into the curtain.

Still Poppa read.

Then suddenly – without warning – the flashlight flew across the stage as a very startled Miss Bovem crashed through the curtain, landing in a heap on the floor!

The startled audience gasped – and then a few seconds later – a titter of laughter was heard. Soon, the entire hall was doubled over in laughter!

Poppa’s big part was a smashing success!

By the way – Miss Bovem was uninjured in the fall, and later married Corkie Windell and lived a long and happy life. But I’m sure she never again volunteered for the Christmas program!

What child doesn’t love the excitement of Christmas Eve?!

Do you remember how hard it was to sleep after hanging your stockings?

Every year I would toss and turn in bed, trying to stay awake so that I could hear when those mysterious presents appeared under the tree.

I wasn’t the only one. My siblings were the same way.

One year in particular my brother, sister and I made an elaborate plan.

We would stay up until the presents appeared – and then we would sneak downstairs and check them out!

We lived in a big old farmhouse in rural Iowa. I was about 10 years old, which would make Sandy, 9 and Tim, 12.

We obediently went to bed when we were told and waited anxiously until all was quiet in the house. Then Sandy and I very quietly slipped out of bed and headed to Tim’s room at the top of the stairs.

He was waiting and ready with our secret stash of pilfered chocolate chips and dry Tang. We sat feasting in the light of our flashlights, trying not to giggle while we waited for the perfect time to make our foray downstairs.

When we were sure that everyone in the house was asleep – or maybe it was when we ran out of chocolate chips – we began our descent down the stairs.

Now remember – this is an older farm house and the stairs were pretty creaky. But my brother had been testing them for weeks. He knew exactly where each step creaked and had the pattern memorized so that we could sneak down those stairs without a sound.

Right side on the first step.

Middle on the second.

Back to the right on the third.

The fourth step is bad, skip it totally and go on to the left side of the fifth.

Step by step he silently led us down the stairs, my sister and I stepping exactly where he stepped.

We didn’t make a sound.

At the bottom of the stairs there were 2 doors. One opened into the living room with the tree and the stockings and all the gifts. The other opened into the newer addition which included a bathroom, utility room, and kitchen.

The door into the living room was closed and it creaked, but the bathroom door was open. The plan was to quietly go through the bathroom, out the other door to the utility room, circle around through the kitchen, and enter the living room where we would use our flashlights to scope out our presents.

The three of us were in line. Tim, in the lead, noiselessly slipped through the first bathroom door like a hunter stalking his prey. I was close behind, followed by Sandy.

Now that we were in the newer part of the house the floors didn’t creak. We were close now! Our excitement surged and Tim picked up speed. He took the next bathroom door at a semi-run with me right at his heels. We had just about rounded the utility room when we heard the loud crash!

We looked back in horror to see Sandy in a heap on the floor – she had gone too fast and tripped on the bathroom rug!

It took a second for the reality of the situation to hit – we were out of bed at midnight on Christmas Eve with flashlights and the smell of pilfered chocolate chips on our breath!

And we had just made enough noise in the quiet house to wake the dead!

We turned tail and took the stairs three at a time. We jumped into bed, pulling the covers up over our heads.

Then, despite our excitement and all that extra sugar, we fell sound asleep.

Before we knew it – it was Christmas morning and we hadn’t been caught!

We ran down the stairs with sheepish expressions and saw all the gifts that had eluded us the night before.

As far as I can remember, that was our last Christmas Eve mission. We soon grew too old for those midnight raids, but it sure makes a fun memory!

You know – I haven’t had dry Tang in years!

If you study a map of Colorado you will soon realize that Pagosa Springs is on the other side of the Rocky Mountains from Denver.

If you look carefully at that same map you would see that there are two mountain passes that we must cross before we find our son.

Two. In the winter. Remember me? I’m the one who freaked out on Teton Pass on a sunny day in September!

We started west out of Walsenburg and began the climb toward La Veta pass. The roads got slicker and the snow started to fly as we reached the summit and started down, very thankful that although the elevation was over 9000 feet, the grades were not steep.

We made it! Piece of cake! One pass conquered – one to go.

The roads cleared and the snow ended as we headed down. We had dry roads, clear skies, and sunshine as we drove across the high plains of Colorado.

Our spirits lifted as we settled in and enjoyed the adventure!

But we soon discovered that Colorado wasn’t done with us yet. We started the climb toward the next pass – the granddaddy of mountain passes – the infamous – the dreaded – Wolf Creek Pass.

We hit snow just outside of the city of South Pass.

It got deeper and visibility got poor.

Still we climbed.

We noticed that cars were just crawling down the mountain in the other lane – a mute reminder that it’s easier going up a mountain than coming down. At least going up we have gravity to help us stop.

We saw an accident that had just happened – it was a miracle that both drivers were still alive when you looked at the condition of the car and the position of the truck on top of the guard rail.

We reached the Summit and started the nail biting descent into Pagosa Springs. Steep 7% grades that end in a hairpin turn. Down and around the mountain.

Low gear. Top speed is twenty miles an hour. Poor visibility and the roads are snow covered.

Finally we reach the bottom and drive right out of the snow into Pagosa Springs!

As I peeled Jan’s hands off the steering wheel, I said, “Never ever again will I take that pass. Never again in a million, trillion years – especially in a snowstorm!”

We drove out to Wolf Creek Lodge and finally- finally got to see Matt!

I didn’t even cry – much.

And he took this picture of Jan and I to prove that we made it. Notice that white stuff on the ground? Oh yeah…

We had a tour, got to meet his roommates and friends – and it started to snow – again.

I ignored it as we sat down to lunch and tried to just soak up the time with Matt. But it was getting harder to ignore – especially when the director mentioned the Winter Storm Warning that was going into effect.

I tried not to meet Jan’s eyes – because I knew what he was thinking – Wolf Creek Pass.

He talked to the director to see if there were any other options for getting out of there.  There were none. If we wanted to go home, it would be over that pass.

Graduation was at five o’clock. If we stayed for that – we would be traveling over the pass after dark – and after it had snowed all day.

If we left on Saturday – we may not make it out at all.

We said our good-byes and left.

Three hours. We traveled a day and half for three hours with Matt.

And we missed graduation.

We bought some chains for the rental car before heading east out of Pagosa Springs and started climbing up that pass that I had just said I never wanted to go over again ever in my lifetime.

And I got to do it twice – in one day – in a snowstorm.

Thankfully the grade on the east side of the pass wasn’t as steep and winding as the west side, because the snow was deeper and the visibility worse.

Once again the snow stopped at the town of South Pass and we started across the high plains of Colorado in sunshine with dry roads.

Can I pause a minute here and say what an incredible man my husband is?! I was amazed at his driving skills and cool under pressure.

We drove hard and fast – making it over La Veta Pass after dark – despite the blowing snow and black ice. We just kept driving north on Interstate 25, thinking that if the roads were good – we were going to get as close to the airport as we could.

We finally got a hotel on the north side of Colorado Springs – which proved to be a wise decision since we woke up to another snow storm.

Unbelievable.

We had one more white-knuckled drive into Denver – but made it to the airport in time.

Our flight was an hour late – but considering everything else that we had gone through in the last few days – that was nothing.

Home never looked so good!

And you know – even though things didn’t go as planned, it was still a wonderful trip! I would do it again in a heartbeat – but only in July!

Post script-

We found out later that they closed Wolf Creek Pass a few hours after we got through. The other family hoping to drive home was still stranded on Sunday.

Northern New Mexico, from Albuquerque to Southern Colorado had a winter storm into the next week.  If we had stuck to our original plan – we might still be there. Some of the students who planned to travel that direction were still waiting on Tuesday.

Matt made it to Durango for his flight home on Sunday, but only after another white-knuckled drive west from Pagosa that included hitting a deer.

Remind me to avoid Colorado in the winter!

Not in a million – trillion years. I actually lived it – and I still don’t believe it!

I flew in an airplane – yes me, the claustrophobic one who can’t even sleep in a sleeping bag and is deathly afraid of heights  – flew in an airplane to see our oldest son Matt graduate from the Summit Semester Program in the Rockie Mountains near Pagosa Springs, Colorado.

At least that was the original plan. But things don’t always go as planned…

We booked a flight to Denver, were we planned to catch a connecting flight to Albuquerque, rent a car and drive north to Pagosa Springs.

We were going to spend Thursday night in Pagosa Springs, all day Friday with Matt and fly out of Albuquerque on Saturday.

Oh – and did I mention that my husband went on line and found a super expensive hotel room in Pagosa Springs for Thursday night – at a bargain basement, non-refundable price? We’re talking a hot tub with a mountain view, king size bed with a dozen fluffy pillows, and thick cotton sheets.

Let me tell you folks – we are more of a Super 8 kind of people so I was really excited at the very thought!

The first leg of the trip went well. We checked in, made it through security just fine, and I didn’t even have a panic attack on the plane! We was feeling pretty confident as we landed in Denver.

Then we saw the snow -  a lot of snow. We had flown right into a winter nightmare.

Our connecting flight was delayed. Then they changed our gate, then our plane, and finally 2 hours later they canceled our flight.  We were re-booked at a much later flight into Albuquerque – if it made it out at all.

We discussed our options. We could spend 6 hours waiting in the Denver airport and hope the flight makes it in to Albuquerque at midnight and then drive 3 hours to Pagosa Springs – or we could rent a car and drive the six hours to Pagosa Springs ourselves.

I mentally did the math and saw myself in the hot tub in Pagosa just about the time the flight was taking off. Take that United Airlines!

Besides, I trust Jan behind the wheel of any car in any weather before I would trust some pilot who looks younger than my 15 year old son to fly me over the Rocky Mountains in the dark in a snow storm.

Just saying.

So with the vision of a hot tub with a mountain view dancing in my head – we rented a car and headed south out of Denver. What’s a little snow – right?!

Wrong! The roads were slick and travel slow until we hit Pueblo, where for about 15 minutes Jan actually got up to speed before it starting snowing again. By the time we saw the exit to Walsenburg he was driving on sheet ice.

He turned in the first exit and into a motel. Remember what I had been anticipating for weeks? Hot tub with a mountain view, a dozen fluffy pillows, and heavy cotton sheets?

This is what I got.

Circa 1960.

Trust me – the furnishings were original. I walked in and felt like I was in Goodwill – on the wrong side of town.

It looked like the Brady Bunch should walk out – and I mean the early Brady Bunch before Greg’s voice changed.

Two flat pillows and no hot tub -actually there wasn’t even a tub. And the whole bathroom listed to the north making the toilet more of a rocking chair.

And it was cold. Really cold.

I put on layers of clothes, climbed in the lumpy 1960 mattress, pulled the threadbare blanket up to my chin and fell asleep listening to Vince Gill sing a duet to Miss Piggy on TV.

I’m not even kidding.

Not exactly the night of luxury I had anticipated.

Between the lumpy mattress, the cold, the worry about the weather, and second guessing our decisions, neither of us slept well.

But we must have slept some – because we woke up – and the sun was shining.

We hit the road early.

Of course we had to stop at a restaurant for breakfast since one wasn’t served at the “hovel hotel”. Come to think of it – it didn’t even have a coffee maker.

At this point, we were beginning to see the humor in the situation – at least until we headed west out of town.

To be continued…

The year was 1936.

Jan’s mom, or Damie as the kids call her, was just five years old.

For the little girl growing up in Minnesota during the Great Depression, it will always be remembered as the year that Grandma died.

Grandma had eleven children, some married with families of their own, others still living at home when she died.

She had been the matriarch of the family and her absence was most keenly felt as Christmas approached.

She did the baking, the decorating,  and – most importantly to a five year old – the gift buying.

The family would gather at the traditional Swedish Christmas Eve Service at midnight, followed by a trip to Grandpa and Grandma’s house for thick black coffee and the Swedish treats that Grandma had spent weeks making.

What would Christmas be like without Grandma?

Grandpa felt the loss most of all, but despite his pain, he knew that he didn’t want his grandchildren to remember this Christmas with sadness. He wanted to make it a special time.

As the cold December days passed, he made a plan. After a trip to the local dime store and then to the barn for the needed supplies, he was ready.

Finally the big day arrived and the family gathered.

The aunts had done the decorating and pulled together hot coffee and a feast of goodies, but grandma’s absence was keenly felt.

Grandpa slipped out of the room and quietly hung a sheet in the doorway.

He came back in holding a fishing pole with a bag attached to the end and called the grandchildren to gather around.

He explained that each one would get a turn to fish in “Grandpa’s Fish Pond” and see what they could catch. Then he quietly slipped behind the sheet.

Their eyes grew large as one by one each grandchild grabbed the pole and lowered the bag over the side of the sheet and pulled it back.

They had each caught a gift!

It wasn’t anything fancy or expensive, it was just a little something from the dime store. But the fun they had “catching” their gift made it extra wonderful!

With shining eyes they held that gift tightly while tucking the memory of that special Christmas into their hearts.

Damie has included a fish pond in our own family Christmas celebration for several years now.

And every year as we watch the shining eyes of the grandchildren “fish” for their gifts, we are reminded of that first Christmas Fish Pond, when Great-Grandpa looked beyond his own grief to make a special Christmas for those he loved.

The kids spent a good part of last weekend cleaning and putting up Christmas decorations. Even the guys helped – although I think they weren’t as excited about the decorating as they were about eating our traditional chocolate fondue while they did it!

To me, decorating for Christmas is a special time when we share the memories of Christmas’s past and pass on traditions.

Traditions like our red Christmas stockings.

When we were born, my siblings and I each received a handmade red Christmas stocking from Grandma Griner.

Since we never had a fireplace mantle to hang them, every year Mom would hang those 5 stockings on the wall until Christmas Eve.

(Okay – something I’ve wondered for years – how in the world did Mom get them to stay on the wall all month?)

Then – just before bed on Christmas Eve – we would take our stockings and safety pin them to the couch – most of the time using diaper pins (you know the ones with little pastel duckies and bunnies on them!)

And we would sit, in order of age, in our handmade jammies, with excited faces, and take a picture.

Every year.

Even the year we had mumps.

Trust me – some of those pictures are really embarrassing! Especially when we got into our teens.

When each of us got married and started our own families, my sister Teresa continued the tradition. She presented each of our children with their very own red Christmas stocking, just like the ones Grandma made.

Since I also don’t have a fireplace to hang them, our stockings get hung on our open staircase until Christmas Eve, when – you guessed it – we take them down and hang them on the couch!

And I bet you’ve figured out what we do next!

That’s right – we sit the kids down in birth order and take a picture of them  – in their jammies with excited faces just before they go to bed.

Every year.

Even the year they all had the head colds and bright red chapped noses.

Trust me – some of these pictures are really embarrassing, too!

Especially now that they are in their teens!

But what a special memory!

It’s a tradition that ties us together, past and present.

A special bond we share together as a family.

And as my kids start leaving the nests to set up their own households, their red Christmas stocking will go with them.

Then, in December when they pull out the Christmas decorations, they will see their bright red Christmas stocking and remember.

Kimmer, Mindy and Pancake.

Three strangers who became best friends.

Oh, the adventures we had!

One by one we got married, graduated, moved on.

Now – 2 continents, countless moves, 13 children, 3 foster kids, a son-on-law, one grandbaby and 23 years later – we finally reunited.

All three of us in one place – at one time – with no interruptions.

The fellowship we shared was so sweet!

We kept staring at each other and reaching out to touch each other as if we were afraid that it was all a dream and we had to make it real.

We cried.

We prayed.

We laughed so hard!

As we poured out our hearts, shared pictures, and reunited with our younger selves – it was very clear that despite the many years that have passed since those college days, inside we’re still those same girls.

Still a bit silly, but full of hopes and dreams and ideas.

Stronger. Wiser.

And still the best of friends.

Same Girl

Twila Paris

She’s still the same girl
Wiser for the years
She’s still the same girl
Stronger for the tears
Listen to her story
And your heart will glow
She’s still the same girl
And we need her so

And anywhere that Kimmer is – there is laughter – lots of laughter!

We were browsing through the racks at the local thrift store when Kimmer quickly picked up on the fact that my kids thought our taste in clothes was a little dated – so she started pulling out ridiculous pieces to show them.

She was gushing and embarrassing them royally when – out of the craziness – Dagmar finds a nice pair of jeans of Pedro.

I look at them and say “awesome”.

Kimmer looks at them and says, “Precious!”

Dagmar almost chokes. “Awesome and precious?! Oh really! These are beastly sick pants!”

Kimmer and I look at each other blankly, “Beastly sick?”

Dagmar just shakes her head and moves on.

Okay – so maybe it’s more than our taste in clothes that’s a little dated.

At home later on that afternoon -  I asked Pedro to try on the clothes that his sister found for him.

As he come out wearing his new pants, we looked at each other and tried very hard to remember the words Laura used to describe them.

Now – I should insert here that the night before we had stayed up much later than any two 40-something mothers of nine kids should – so we were pretty much brain dead.

As we were frantically trying to remember the correct terminology – Kimmer blurts out, “I know – the word starts with an F – I know it – they’re fruity!”

The room erupts with laughter.

There’s never a dull moment with Kimmer around!

I’m becoming a habitual offender!

At least this time I brought the kids with me!

We met up with several other home school moms and their kiddos at a local park to enjoy one of the last wonderful days of fall.

While the kids played and played and played -

The moms sat and talked – catching up on life, sharing ideas, and just soaking up the sunshine.

Our biggest entertainment -

Watching the babies be cute.

It was one of those “easy” kind of days that makes me so glad to be home schooling.

I’m thinking the kids were kind of glad, too!