The Story of My Dad and I: Part 3

I would often half-heartedly ask the Lord for my Dad’s freedom, asking because of my Mom, because of my brothers and sister, but not because I wanted him home. Stubbornly, thinking I don’t need my Dad. One day I was listening to the song “Cinderella” by Steven Curtis Chapman, I had no idea what I was getting myself into!



The words cut deep into my wounded, aching heart. For the first time I prayed for my Dad to come home. Tears just rolled down, poured out, as if I had been holding them in for 2 years. The only words that would come out were “I want my Daddy, I want my Daddy…” I said it over and over again, crying harder and harder as I heard the words from my own voice, from my own heart. My brother heard me, with concern  he came up behind me and hugged me. In that moment, for a split second I thought it was my Daddy. Words cannot describe how I felt. I NEEDED my Dad. I needed a relationship with him. I realized I loved him, respected him, and admired him for who he is and how he raised me. My Dad was reflecting Christ each step of the way, in his own way. Just because he made a bigger financial disaster and went to prison does not erase the great man he was and is today. I forgave my Dad in my heart that night, and you will not believe what happened… The next day he was home, a free man and he was able to spend Thanksgiving with our whole family.
Four months later my Dad walked me down the isle on my wedding day. I received his blessing as I married the man of my dreams, it was such a special moment. I needed my Dad. I need his love. 

Now I see my son inheriting some of my Dad’s traits and I’m so proud. I pray that he can use those outgoing and  'people person' traits to bring God glory, like my Dad.

The Story of My Dad and I: Part 2

When you idolize someone there always seems to be a point when they let you down. 

Guess what? My dad let me down.

In the fall of my second year of college I was in my dorm when I got a phone call from my Dad. I could tell in his voice that something serious happened. I listened, and shook with disbelief at what he had to say. He was the owner of a business that had been on the cutting edge of technology at the time, in order to properly fill the demand my Dad received loans from the government for this kind of company. In a pinch on funds, he misused one of the loans and hoped to pay it back before it had been discovered, before it became an issue. Unfortunately for my Dad the funds never came, his business fell on hard times. My Dad was unsure of what to do, at this point the only thing he could do was tell the government loan officer, ask for patients and forgiveness. The more time went on the less patient the government was on him, until someone else took hold of the case and decided to convict him. Just like that!

My world was turned upside down. 

My father could be going to prison?

I was so angry at him! I wanted him to be punished for what he did wrong, but mostly because he let me down. I felt betrayed and abandoned. My dad and I argued every time we talked, I had lost my respect for him and it show through every conversation we had. I no longer want to be just like him. I kept seeing faults in him that I was working on in my own life, and it looked like he wasn’t trying to change. To have someone I look up to and love so much, fall from a pedestal I put them on was crushing, more than I could handle. You know, all of this happened at a time where it's natural to rebel and question your parents in order to gain more independence as an adult. There is always a time when parents fall from high up where you had placed them as youths. It was just so extreme; my little heart couldn’t take it. I fell into a depression, before I found my comfort in Jesus Christ. My Heavenly Father who is worthy of any pedestal He is put upon.

Last family picture before...

My father was sentenced and spent a year and a half in Federal Prison. It was surreal; we just did what we had to in order to survive. The Lord slowly softened my heart. I was surprised to find that the more I grew in the Lord and learned about myself in my Father’s absence, the more I understood the man I had idolized. 

Part 3 will be posted on July 5th ~ my dad's Birthday.

The Story of My Dad and I: Part 1

I know Father’s Day is in June, but I always celebrate my Dad in July. His birthday is July 5^th He loves grilling outdoors and fireworks. As a child he thought the fireworks were for his birthday. I thought I would tell my story of our relationship. Its a long story so it's in 3 parts.

My dad was always my hero.

I have always looked like him; I inherited a lot of his more obvious personality traits, including being outgoing and a people person. People told me I was just like him, so very early on I set out to be the female version of my Dad. I admired him so much, I put him on a pedestal; He could do no wrong in my child mind. I am fortunate to have such a loving father who hugged me, showered me with kisses, and bought me things that we could do together. My Dad always told me I’m beautiful just the way I am. The first time I wore make-up, he was sad and told me I didn’t need it, I looked so pretty just the way God made me. I knew he was proud of me. He was more than eager to help me with my special talents, I’m creative, I have always been an artist. I never forgot that I was special because the Lord made me the way I am. I have always felt that I belonged and had a special place in my family, my Daddy made sure of that. My Dad is the guy you find surrounded by people, often telling an exciting story with a glint in his eye as they hang on his every word. 

Nothing I Lack: Guest Rachel Keida

This blog post is brought to you by the lovely Rachel Keida.


"I used to write about hurt, hate, and scorn. But what have I now but love and peace of mind.
 I used to fill my head with mind numbing entertainment, but what have I now but the sound of this river rushing by, birds chirping while they fly.
 I used to want to feel something, anything that would distract me from my troubles,
 but right now I'm content with this soft breeze and a sense of Your presence.
 As I grow I recognize that life's not all about me.
 It's not about my happiness or being successful.
 Life is growth, a slow growing recognition of the Lord's work in my life. 
It's seeing the beauty in the sunshine,
 sensing the wisdom in rocks and trees,
 knowing the tenderness of the wind,
 and the soothing sound or water.
 It's appreciating and loving, deeply caring for those in my life.
 It's having had tasted the pleasures of this world
 yet finally understanding that those do not bring peace or joy.
 It's found in the rich blessings of unfamiliar places,
 the unique and differing features in faces.
 It's knowing and facing my fears, not being afraid to shed tears... Life is a gift from God,
 and now that I know this, there is nothing that I lack." -Rachel


Rachel Keida is a recent Grace Bible College graduate.She is now in Colorado working on a Ranch for the Summer. She has been on various Mission Trips.  Last year, after her Mission Trip to Costa Rica, which included my two teenagers, I had the honor of meeting her.  She is a ray of sunshine as she bring smiles and laughter to all those around her.  Yet, she has great depth to her. She gave me permission to post what she wrote on facebook. It truly struck a chord with me and just knew others would enjoy her thoughtful insight.      Thank you Rachel, love these words.

Why Don't I Want to Turn 25?

As I pulled up to our driveway I stopped to get the mail. Thumbing through it I found a card from the DMV informing me that my licence needed to be renewed by June 9th. I squinted for a moment, than remembered, "Oh Yeah, I'm turning 25."  How excited I was to take that first licence picture at 16. I sighed as I thought about how different my life is now. I parked onto the gravel road of the farm we live on, chickens running around pecking at the ground. I carried my 9 month old in the house and started to cry, and the tears just kept coming.

In the rain at 15

The same tears I cried earlier this spring when I was going through my summer clothes. I had found an old t-shirt I made at Summer camp when I was 15. It was one of my favorites for years, but I have no use for it now. I realized that was 10 years ago, and how different my life is now. I was so head-strong, confident, I had a feeling of belonging in those years and I had a strong sense of God's will. That t-shirt saw some of my favorite memories, the most I had ever laughed, many adventures and dear friends that live so far away now, I can barely keep in touch.

Most days I feel lost in a sea of diapers, laundry, grocery lists, and more things that haven't gotten done. A decent night's sleep is a thing of the past. Everything is new again as a first time mom. Like that familiar, miserable feeling when you're in training at a new role, and everyday you fail a little less. I especially HATE being new at things because I am a slow learner. Regardless of how many diapers I had changed or how many years I had been a nanny before, I had never taken care of a whole household on my own. It never occurred to me that being a stay at home mom means also being a full time cleaner. Did I mention I hate cleaning? (I would much rather sit and chat with you instead.) It just feels like everyday I have to do a list of things I'm not good at and don't enjoy doing, but I guess that's part of growing up.

I continued to reminisce, looked at pictures that took me back, laughed at different memories. I couldn't exactly pinpoint why I was so sad. I wanted to be able to say "remember when" with someone. I wanted those friendships to last. If given the chance I would go back to being 15 but I wouldn't stay for more than a day. I love my husband, I still love spending everyday with my best friend. My husband is more handsome, talented, caring, a better friend and a better fit than anything I could have asked for. We have a beautiful son who just amazes me. He makes me laugh everyday, and where ever we go its a new adventure. With an affirming smile from my husband, suddenly I am head-strong, confident. I have a feeling of belonging and a strong sense that I am doing God's will being Lance's wife and Everett's mom.

  I realized I am closing a chapter in my life, but a new one has already been in the works. Its bittersweet, and its okay to morn the loss of my teenage years of less obligations and little responsibility. I'm not going to get stuck in the past, and I'm throwing away that old t-shirt. By letting go of what was, I can look ahead and see so much more that my life holds. Being 25 isn't bad it just marks a point when I evaluate where I am and realize how much my life has changed. I'm not going to hold on to 15, its my choice and I'm going to RELISH in 25. And 26. And 27...

My Grandpa In World War I

Memorial Day is a day of reflection and appreciation. 
My Grandpa was in World War I.

 As I was sifting through a box I came across this report that I wrote in 5th grade.  I thought I would retype it and share it:

This is a true story of what my grandpa did in World War I.

During the last year and a half of the war, Frank A. Anderson was in training to go over to the war. After 3 mos. of training in America, alot of young, courageous men like my grandpa (He was 22) went by boat to go over to France to help win the war for them.

In France he wasn't assigned to fight on the war front, but since he was such a good mechanic, he was to drive trucks, full of supplies like mail, food, ammunition, first aid, soldiers, gas, spare parts, Doctors, Nurses, etc. over the border and into Germany, to the war front.

My Father with Grandpa Frank (his dad)

Since the Germans could bomb him during the day he had to go over there by night with all the lights inside and outside the car turned off. Sometimes just in-case the Germans would catch them they had to be good shooters, and my Grandpa got medals from it.

Gradually, the trucks would get worn out, for example: it would get a flat, the engine might stall, run out of gas, etc. and if the men had to get help or didn't know how to fix it, they would get shot, so since grandpa was a good mechanic, he would fix it in the dark and try to hurry to the war front, and back to the base by dawn.

After a few months of being private, he, quickly got to be private first class and up to corporal . The badges he got are Driver and Mechanic badge and Expert Rifler badge and was in the Cops. of Engineers. I am very proud of my Grandpa, because he was so brave. He is now 81 yrs old and had pretty close calls during the last year of World War I.

Army Expert Driver/Mechanic/ Operator Badge

Expert Rifle/Weapons Badge

Remembering Grandma Dora

Dora as a Child

Grandmother, spoke of the past
            many times of a lake - named Lemon
            how she explored for rocks
            loved  travel and adventure
            although, in her later years her adventures were done in books
            had a zest for life

         
Grandmother, loved and respected
            gentle furrows on her face
            scent of baby powder ever present
            favored the color yellow
            a twinkle in her eye
            warm infectious laugh
            a comforting lap that one loved to snuggle in
            "Bless your heart" and saying she was"tickled to see you"
            was a response that many recall
           

Grandmother, friend, wise one
              enjoyed gardening, the feel of the earth, its rich aroma
              loved to work with her hands, crochet and knit for loved ones
              prepared amazing delicacies in her teeny tiny kitchen
              Twins or Vikings Games were often heard in the room
              her knowledge on multiple topics was vast
           
Grandmother, companion, wife
              Lunch Bunch and Friend of the Library
              furry black poodles
              loved holding her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren
              everyone's favorite
              loved her husband dearly
              her conversations were sprinkled with his name
           

Grandmother, deep rich memories of her life
              what she loves makes us smile
              her sweetness will be remembered
              her kindness will be thought of often
             she lives on in our souls, will never be forgotten

In Loving Memory of Dora Irene Shemanek
August 15, 1911-January 11, 1999