Savor the Good - Let Go of the Rest

Nearly 23 years have gone by since I first became a mother.  I remember that day well … and yet I don’t.  I remember bits and pieces – the fact that I was rushed by ambulance to Mayo Clinic because I had pre-eclampsia and the fact that my husband drove an hour through dense fog with my parents, probably under a great deal of stress with concern for both me and our unborn child.  I remember that our first child, a son, was born at 10:03 pm the following night.  I vividly remember his innocent blue eyes, filled with adoring bewilderment, gazing up at me from the swaddled comfort of his blanket; and I remember my own awe, wondering who he was and who he would someday become.  I also recall a twinge of anxiety knowing that being a mother would be the most important (and rewarding) job I would ever have in this life.  But I don’t remember the pain – drugs may have helped – but one way or another the joys of motherhood overshadowed and lured me back in a few years later with the birth of our second and youngest child, a daughter, who would steal our hearts forever and make our family complete. 

I vowed from very early on that I would give motherhood my all, I would remember every moment, and my goal was to make memories for my children that would last for a lifetime.  I’ve spent the majority of the years devoting my time, aiming to be present, soaking up every moment and savoring every detail.  Throughout the years, we made a plethora of memories – living everyday moments, sharing family meals, playing games and going on Sunday drives.  We made holiday traditions and enjoyed annual family vacations.  My husband and I attended nearly every event, game and concert and witnessed the milestones.  I’ve always been well aware that children are only young for a fleeting moment and the years are gone in the blink of an eye.  The joys of motherhood are forever engrained in my heart – the sweet scent of infancy, the pitter patter of toddler feet, the urgency of little arms wrapped around my neck, the sensation of their soft heads against my cheek while I read them a story, and the warmth of their bodies nestled in my arms as they fell asleep at night.  Like all mothers, some of the day-to-day details seem to have escaped my memory, but they are still there – patiently waiting at the tip of my senses, continually bringing me back from time to time.  Stories shared in laughter or particular sights, smells or sounds tenderly expose glimpses of years gone by.  The smell of fresh air breathes life into images of their middle years as they ran inside after playing with neighborhood friends.  The slam of a car door renders my relief from their teenage years of knowing they were safe under my roof once again.  A walk around our house, yard or neighborhood tends to send my memories dancing like childlike spirits wanting to come out to play.    

After all these years, I’ve forgotten some of the pieces that were not so perfectly fit to remember.  I’ve given in to the fact that our house was far less than immaculate, my cooking skills were lacking (a lot), and my voice may have raised in anger more times than I care to admit.  Despite my best efforts, there were still some moments of exhaustion, of busyness and haste, a few failures, tears and mistakes.  But I don’t recall what could have made me raise my voice, and I’ve no idea what “to-do” could have been worth keeping busy.  Somehow, I’ve mostly forgotten the less than pleasant moments, and I hope my kids have done the same.  Although in jest, they lovingly won’t let me forget the time I ran over my son’s favorite dump truck in the driveway or the time I forgot to send my daughter’s snow pants to school one wintery day.  But in my mind, this just shows we have connection, share a history and can find humor in the memories we share.  In the end, I can only hope that their childhood memories are outnumbered with moments of happiness and laughter and with feelings of contentment, encouragement and love.

I believe it was Maya Angelou who once said "People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did ... but people will never forget how you made them feel."  So my advice to young mothers is this - if you’re doing your best, then mamas, don’t worry.  Savor the good and let go of the rest.  Be present with your children but go easy on yourself.  Give them your time, your attention and your love.  Provide them with comfort and security.  Encourage them and assure they never forget they are enough, they are worth it, and they are loved.  

We recently moved our son to a new city to start his full-time career and our daughter headed off to college again this fall.  Together, we made additional family memories while planning and organizing, packing and moving.  As each of our children begin to spread their wings, I fear that I have forgotten something … did they pack all they need, will they have enough to eat?  More importantly, did I teach them enough through the years - did I give the right advice?  Will they call me if they need me?  Did I provide them with deep rooted memories and love - enough to carry along into their futures and last throughout their lifetimes?  I hope they mostly remember the good, like I do.  I hope I made them feel special, safe and secure ... and I hope they never forget how much they were (and always will be) loved. 

World War II Veteran, Jerome J. Einck, Celebrates His 100th Birthday on June 6, the 75th Anniversary of D-Day

Following is the article that I wrote on my Grandpa, Jerome J. Einck.  It was published in the Decorah Newspapers today, June 6, 2019 on his 100th Birthday:

By Kendra Kleve (Jerome’s granddaughter)

June 6, 2019 is a historical day worldwide, as it marks the 75^th anniversary of the Invasion of Normandy, also known as “D-Day”, a critical turning point in World War II.  For World War II Veteran, Jerome J. Einck and his family, it is an extra special day as they celebrate Jerome’s 100^th birthday.   

D-Day on Omaha Beach

Jerome Einck served in the U.S. Army assigned to the 967th Quartermaster Service Company attached to the 6th Engineer Brigade, a special unit formed to land early at Omaha Beach in Normandy, France on D-Day in June 1944.  On the morning of his 25^th birthday, Jerome was among the soldiers crossing the English Channel on a cargo ship carrying tons of ammunition to Omaha Beach.  Their job was to bring the ammunition off the ship for the invasion; however, due to the condition of the sea and the approaching gunfire, they were forced to debark further from the shore than desired, and the cargo was loaded onto DUKWs (amphibious boats) to be brought onto the beach.  Jerome recalls unloading the supplies while under fire.  This was especially dangerous since the ship was at risk of a major explosion due to the large amount of ammunition they were carrying.  All around him, allied troops fired at the German soldiers while they retaliated from their pillboxes or cement bunkers.  Jerome comments that the pillboxes were very well made; therefore, the rangers had to get up close to destroy them with grenades.  “I remember so much noise, and everyone was scared to death” Jerome explains, and he still can’t believe how lucky he was as so many young men were severely injured, crippled for life, or lost their lives.  Records indicate that Omaha Beach was the deadliest of the five beaches with over 2,000 casualties.

Jerome arrived onto the beach as the fighting ensued and landmines still lurked underground.  Soldiers, including Jerome, were without sleep for up to three days as they fought their way up the beach in the rain.  They dug fox holes and attempted to sleep in them as the fighting and rain both persisted; and although they covered the holes with tarps, they still got wet.  Jerome recalls waking one morning in a fox hole to find a lizard on his stomach staring him in the eye.  They ate food rations and eventually slept in tents (4-6 men in each tent) when the conflict began to quiet.  Once they took a stronghold of the area, they were finally able to gather the deceased soldiers, placing them in bags and burying them in trenches.  Jerome describes it as “the biggest disaster you’ve ever seen!”  He recalls having to walk past the bodies, noticing that they all seemed to have photographs of their loved ones lying next to them.  He still wonders if the men had been looking at their photographs as they died or if someone had come along and laid them out for them.     

Like many soldiers, Jerome has vivid memories of that day and his time in the war, but he does not share those memories easily – his family has had to piece together his story from the fragments he has imparted throughout the years; though he recently commented “I thought I would never forget, but now some details are just gone – maybe that is a good thing.”

Life Leading up to the War and After

Jerome was born on a farm near Castalia, IA, the youngest of four children born to Bernard (Ben) and Julia (Doerr) Einck.  He attended country school near his home, and he also recalls attending school in the town of Castalia for a while, where he thought nothing of the long walk to school every day.  Due to his mother’s ill-health, Jerome and his parents moved to Ossian, where his mother passed away when Jerome was 14.  He quit school after 9^th grade and they moved back to their family farm near Castalia where Jerome continued to work until the land was sold about the same time that the army was looking for men to fight the war.     

Jerome was drafted into the army in May 1943, reporting to Camp Dodge in Des Moines, IA before traveling by train to Fort Warren in Cheyenne, Wyoming where he went through basic training.  At Fort Warren, the new soldiers spent time at rifle ranges and built up endurance by hiking and camping in the mountains.  In an attempt to ease their anxieties, they were entertained by actor/comedian, Mickey Rooney.  Joe Louis, the heavy weight champion at that time, also put on a show for them.  After basic training, Jerome was sent to motor maintenance school for eight weeks until he was sent by train to New Jersey where he waited to be shipped to England.  Their troopship set sail for England in March 1944, surrounded by destroyers for protection.  Although the ship was huge, the waves were rough, and Jerome illustrates it as “jumping around like a little toy ship in the ocean.”  Everyone was seasick, not only from the turbulent waves but also from the smell of paint, as the ship had been freshly painted on the inside.  Jerome recalls eating meals and notes that they had to stand up and hold onto their plates to keep the food from sliding away.  At night, they slept in hammock-type cots in bunk-bed style down below.   When they arrived in England, they stayed in private homes throughout the town and met each night to eat supper together.  Jerome continued his training in England, practicing boat maneuvers for a week at a time, until June 5^th – the day they had originally planned as D-Day – but they were delayed by storms until June 6^th.  For a few days before the attack, they were kept in confinement so they couldn’t accidently leak information to the Germans.

 After the invasion, Jerome continued his tour of duty in France and eventually stood guard over critical areas during the final months of conflict.  He recalls spending Christmas there and giving some of his rations to the kids in the town.  Rations included soap, candy and cigarettes and they were paid just $50 per month by the army.  The first year after the invasion, Jerome and his company moved to Belgium where Jerome worked as an honor guard at Henri-Chapelle American Cemetery.  The bodies of the fallen soldiers had been removed from war-torn areas and laid there to rest.  Jerome recalls looking at the names of the soldiers while he was there.  The men in his company were like brothers to him and he has quite a few stories of his time with them.  While in Antwerp, Belgium, Jerome was also assigned to work as a telephone operator.  He alternated day and night shifts with the other soldiers spending his occasional time off swimming in a pool near the large house that the army provided for them to live.  He recalls sleeping on mattresses filled with straw from area farmers.  He admits that he hardly had time to feel homesick except when he first went into the army and again when the war was over and he was waiting for his turn to go home.

Returning Home.  A Love Story and Family Life on the Farm

Jerome returned home on February 4, 1946.  He points out that it only took them around 10 days to get to Europe, but it took them 24 days to get back as their ship, the “George Shiras”, was rerouted due to storms and they ended up having to stop at the Azores Islands to refuel.  When he was discharged from the army, Jerome took a train from New York back to Cedar Rapids, IA where he got off at the bus station.  There, he waited until morning when he could contact his soon-to-be-wife, Norma (Koch), who was living in Cedar Rapids and working at Rockwell Collins for the duration of the war.  She immediately quit her job and the two of them headed home together to Ossian, IA.  The young couple was eager to marry but Lent was coming soon and the Catholic Church did not allow weddings to be performed during Lent.  Therefore, the couple quickly planned their wedding and they were married just weeks later on February 28, 1946.  They did not have time or money for lavish wedding attire, so Norma wore an aqua suit and Jerome purchased a wool suit which was the only one he could find at the time.  They exchanged private wedding vows on a wintery morning and celebrated with lunch at the Green Parrot in Decorah and a reception after at Norma’s family’s farm.  Since Jerome did not own a car yet, friends drove them to a hotel in Oelwein, IA where they spent their honeymoon.  If you would ask Jerome, he would tell you that the love of his now wife, Norma, is what got him through the tragic days of war.  He carried her photograph with him throughout his years as a soldier and he continues to carry it in his wallet yet today, proudly displaying the now-tattered photo for family from time to time.  He says he looked forward to her letters, which she sent daily and spritzed with her favorite perfume.  He tried to return her letters when he could, via V-Mail, which the army censored by blacking out any information they viewed as confidential.      

    Jerome and Norma spent the next several years farming and raising a family together.  They started out living with Jerome’s father until they could get back on their feet.  Jerome worked for a telephone company laying telephone wire underground and also helped his sister and her husband farm.  Their first daughter, Sandra (Thuente), was born in April 1947.  Shortly thereafter, they heard about a farmer north of Decorah looking for someone to run their land.  Jerome’s brother-in-law allowed him to use his machinery, in return for labor, so he could rent the farm on half with the owner.  Jerome credits the help of his sister and brother-in-law as being vital to their future in farming.  During the first months renting this farm, they lived in a small, previously abandoned house nearby, paying just $5 a month in rent.  They have fond memories of that little house even though it was nothing fancy and did not have running water or electricity.  Once the landowner got to know them, they invited the young couple to move in with them, allowing them to make their home in a few rooms of their house.  Their daughters, Annette (Bohr-Wiltgen) and Dianne (Trytten), were born during that time in 1949 and 1950.  Soon after, the family rented a farm west of Decorah where they remained until 1955 when they moved onto another farm, southwest of Decorah, which they would make their lifelong home.  There they raised pigs, beef cattle and chickens and milked cows.  Their fourth daughter, Linda (Ludwig), was born there in 1958.  They rented the land on half until 1974 when they purchased the farm as their own.  The couple continued to work hard and make memories there until 1998 when they retired to a home they purchased in Decorah where the two of them still make their home together today.  Their farm is now owned and run by one of their grandsons.  

In addition to their four daughters, Jerome and Norma have eight grandchildren and fifteen great grandchildren so far.  Throughout the years, Jerome has expressed that he hopes his grandchildren and great grandchildren never have to experience the tragedy of war. 

The family will be celebrating Jerome’s 100^th birthday with a private gathering the following weekend.

December Perceptions

The first of December heaved us into winter with a blustery snowfall and lured us into the holidays with the spirit of Christmas.  Outside the safety of my living room window, the roads grew ice covered and slick, and I was glad our kids were a bit further south where the weather was not quite as brisk.  By Sunday morning, the weather had calmed to a gentle snowfall and my husband and I decided to take a road trip to have lunch with our kids before they buckled down to start studying for upcoming college finals.  I am not typically a fan of winter weather roads, but as long as my husband was behind the wheel, I was up for the drive.  My heart was full and I enjoyed the sentiment that encompassed our conversation as we proceeded down the road for the next hour or so.  Just outside our vehicle windows, the tranquility of the fresh snowfall stretched out before us.  The morning sunlight sparkled and danced among the frosted trees while blankets of snow, laced with sunshine, protected the hills as they rolled softly into the horizon.  In the distance, a snow angel's presence graced the landscape with a peaceful glow as if touched by the heavens.

Just a week ago, I had surgery on my eyes to correct cataracts that had been trying to cloud my vision since birth.  After being destined to wear glasses the majority of my life; suddenly, I was able to see into the distance with 20/20 vision, and my new eyes blessed me with a perspective of the world that I hadn't seen in years.  That morning I was a bit surprised to detect that individual tree branches bore tiny twigs that sprouted hope from each limb.  Chubby squirrels could be found scurrying into trees with cheeks full of nuts, and I was drawn to a vibrant, red cardinal patiently watching over the world from its' perch high above.  Curiously, in the distance, snowmen with carrot noses waited patiently for young children, and houses held stories inside the dimly lit windows of their homes.  And so, my thoughts were drawn out into the world ...

Typically, my perspective is filled with my own present moments and my heart tends to overflow with gratitude (at least most of the time).  However, once in a while, especially around the holidays, I sometimes find my perspective to be a little bit off kilter.  I find myself longing for the fictional perfection found in Hallmark movies and fairy tales, while social media dangles glimpses of glamorous lives as others want us to see them.  It can be easy to forget that there is a reality behind every perfect picture and a continued (and less blissful) story follows each Hallmark-ending kiss once the credits have rolled.  It is important to remember that there are shadows within the light in every window and a struggle at the helm of each success.

My recent 20/20 vision of the far away world has also brought about a less-than-perfect view of the world right under my nose.  (Yes, I now need to wear reading glasses as I write this blog.)  This has reminded me that it is important to remember that there is life  beyond our fingertips, in fact more than the eye can even see.  We are each but a tiny twig sprouting from a multitude of greater branches, and there is beauty to be found when you behold the rest of the picture.  Sometimes, we need to take a moment to witness the beauty of the bigger picture to bring joy to the world that is close to our hearts.

So in the spirit of the holiday season, please join me today in seeing the beauty in the world around us, reaching out to those less fortunate than ourselves.  May your cups be half full and your grass be ever green, and may your world glisten with a sparkle of hope for the coming year...

Happy Holidays - Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year!

We Are Going to be Okay...

We moved our daughter (our second and youngest child) to college a month or so ago.  It truly felt like life was ending.  The first couple weeks were the hardest!  I knew that I would miss her, but I wasn't prepared for the anxiety and all the strong emotions that consumed me day in and day out.  I was desperate to know that my baby girl was "okay" while she in turn was exercising her newfound independence and didn't feel the need to be in contact with her mother.  It felt as though she may never need her mother again and life as I had known it for many years was over.  Suddenly ... 

• Daily routines were completely out of wack and I had extra hours that I wasn't sure what to do with;
• Dinner plates were even fewer than when our son left for college three years ago (Who am I kidding?  Meals in general have been fewer since she left.)
• The house was empty in the mornings and I no longer had to try to keep quiet as I made my coffee, etc., and I could even belt out my favorite songs in the shower if I wanted to.  (Though typically, I've now spent my mornings in silence, and in fact, I sometimes now show up for work with my voice slightly horse since there is no one to say "good morning" to as my husband leaves for work long before dawn.)
• Her bedroom is hauntingly clean, her bed continually made and there are no clothes on her floor - a constant reminder of her absence as I pass by (I finally had to just shut her door!)
• And I have been parking my car in the garage now after EIGHT years of parking on the street.  Since the kids began driving, we had them park in the garage to assure that their windshields were always clear on winter mornings.  (A number of times already I have hunted for my keys or walked out the front door in search of my car.)  Yep, habits are hard to break!  

In the weeks to follow, since they left for school, the kids have each been home a couple times already.  I've washed a few loads of their laundry, listened to a few stories, and given a few words of solicited advice.  I've received texts, SnapChats and phone calls in between visits, and I've even been honored with a few minutes or so of Facetime.  Though there have been a few struggles, they are doing "okay".

Meanwhile, I have managed to fill the extra minutes ...

• I've enrolled in a class toward finishing my degree
• I've had extra bonding time with my husband
  
• I've spent time with old friends - drinking coffee, going for walks, and more ...
  
• I've crossed off new bucket list activities .... I made salsa for the first time (it's the little things)
• And for what it is worth, I've managed to write another blog (it has been OVER a year since my last blog post, but with the stress of the above, I have been struggling to find inspiration.)

Anyway, I've got to go charge my phone just in case the kids text or call. 

And

although we may still be adjusting, 

I think we just might be "okay"...

Breathing Life Into Our Years

Wouldn’t we all like to live a quality life of great length filled with joy and memories to share, lived with purpose until close to the end?  I've witnessed both sets of my grandparents live well into their 90's (and one set is still counting.)  I am proud to provide a branch on their trees of loved ones.  I have enjoyed hearing stories from their years gone by and learning about the marks that they left on history.  A lifetime of memories is one of life's greatest treasures and advice from their experiences is a blessing to have shared.

I've also witnessed lives that were cut far too short. My brother, Adam, and my cousin, Rik both died before even reaching 40 and my father died at the age of 48.  I wish, almost daily, that they were still here today, but they each left their marks in their own ways.  I give thanks to have shared in their years.  I remember clearly what my dad said the day he found out he had cancer, he claimed "I lived a full life - I just did it too fast!"  We've also heard it stated "It's not the years in your life, it's the life in your years."  The saying, in its truth, provides comfort in times of grief and gives incentive to many to reach for their goals.   

Goals.  Everyone needs goals - something to strive for, to be better at, to bring purpose to our lives.  As children we have big dreams of being astronauts and firemen, teachers or mommies when we grow up.  As young adults, the opportunities are endless.  But where do we start?  Suddenly, “when I grow up” becomes next year or real soon and kids are thrust into their futures trying to find their way into adulthood.  It can be overwhelming and even scary at first.  But it is important to remember that “Rome wasn’t built in a day” and likewise our lives are made up of a continuous journey of goals both big and small.      

I am currently in the midst of midlife myself as I am half way through my forties.  With our children quickly entering their own adulthoods, life as my husband and I have known it for years is about to fade out and the rest of our lives is not quite yet in focus.  At midlife, we may start to question our own existence.  What have we done with our lives?  What is our legacy?  Are we doing enough?  What now? 

As our years grow in length, wrinkles begin to mark the passage of time, creating a work of art sketched by years of laughter and worry.  In the end, we all have a story to share - a lifetime of joy, some moments of pain, memories to cherish and a few we may rather forget.  Each story is uniquely our own.  Some have grown trees filled with family to span generations to come, some have built resumes of achievements and credentials, and some have filled bucket lists with goals they've accomplished through time.  Some have grown crops to feed a family, taught the minds of those eager to learn, or saved lives as a doctor or nurse.  Any life lived with passion, wherever it may lead, is one to look back on with pride. 

A full life is often built around love.  There is no greater joy than the love found in life and it is there in a variety of ways.  There are those whom we love for a very short time, those we have to let go, and those we may never forget.  There’s the enjoyment of friendships (yes, those are love too) and there’s always ourselves and our God.  There are those who support us through thick and through thin, those who will surround us in the end, and even those who wait for us on the other side.  In the end, we all hope for a life of great length but we pray for a life just well spent.  It's impossible to say when we'll breathe our last breath, but we can each live today to breathe life into our years.