I Love You, Auntie LaVerne

Today it was cloudy all day and rained on and off most of the day. At times there was a mix of snow, which is not uncommon March weather in Western Wisconsin. Shortly after my family finished dinner and all sat together in the living room to watch TV, the sun poked out from behind the clouds. And as the sun dipped down, the clouds gave way to a fantastic purple and pink sky. My husband and son even got up, went to the kitchen window, and admired the beauty together. I wish I would've taken a picture of what was out my window. Because it was the last day my great aunt, LaVerne, was on Earth and the beautiful sunset was a wonderful representation of how she was as a person - vivid, bright, and pretty.

Tuesday night my great aunt had a massive stroke. When my mom told me the next day, I, of course, thought of my grandma right away. You see, Auntie LaVerne isn't just my grandma's sister, she's my grandma's fraternal twin sister. And even more than that, they aren't just twin sisters. My grandma married my grandpa, and LaVerne married my grandpa's brother, Ed. The two couples had a double wedding in 1950 when the girls were just 18-years-old. This July would've been Ed and LaVerne's 70th (!) wedding anniversary.

My great-grandparents and their 8 children. My grandma is on the far left, in the back row.
Auntie LaVerne is second from the right, in the back row.

I would guess that most people would say that they don't know their great aunts and uncles very well. But I have spent a lot of time with my mom's extended family and I probably know most of my mom's cousins better than some people know their own first cousins. My entire life there have been family picnics, birthday parties, family reunions, and lots of time together. I remember as a little girl going to Auntie LaVerne's house for big family gatherings. They lived in a northern suburb of the Twin Cities. There was always lots of laughter, lots of food, and lots of people. Once when we were there, a hot air balloon landed in a field right behind their house and we all went running out to watch it land. 

Auntie LaVerne had a piano in her house and she loved to play. Many times she would play and the singing would start. 

Every single time I saw Auntie LaVerne she always, always, always, had a smile on her face. To be with her family made her so happy. She was such a joyful woman. And every time I saw her, her arms would open wide and she would envelop me in a big hug. She just radiated happiness and that is what I will remember most about her. I think it was due to her joy for Jesus. She was a woman who chased after God and her faith was not only important to her but evident to those around her. 

When I was a little girl, the whole extended family...my mom's aunts, uncles, and cousins on her dad's side...would get together for a birthday party for me and my second cousin, Greta. We are just a few days apart in age. Auntie LaVerne was always there. And if you're thinking, "Wait a minute. I thought it was her grandma's twin sister," remember, Auntie LaVerne married my grandpa's brother. So no matter if we were at a family event for my mom's dad's side or my mom's mom's side, Auntie LaVerne and Uncle Ed were ALWAYS there. 

Two brothers married twin sisters. This photo was taken at my sister's wedding in 2013.

She was there for every major event of my life. My high school graduation celebration, my college graduation celebration, my family wedding shower, my wedding, and my family baby shower for my first child. She was so much more than just a great-aunt who I kinda sorta knew a little bit. When you spend that much time together, you bond. You have good conversations. You laugh together. Oh boy, did we laugh together.

Auntie LaVerne and Uncle Ed at our wedding in 2011.

I will miss her so much. And my heart is so sad for Uncle Ed, their kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids. And my heart hurts for Grandma. Her precious twin sister is gone. Part of her identity. Part of a strong bond. Part of her heart. And she couldn't see her one last time because of the Covid-19 "shelter in place" order. That makes me sad too. I know if she could have, Grandma would have been at that hospital, by her twin's side. The sisters spoke on the phone 11 days ago...on their 88th birthday.

My grandma (left) and Auntie LaVerne (right) at their 80th birthday party in 2012. We had many family birthday parties over the years for these two sisters.

Auntie LaVerne had her stroke Tuesday night. She hung on for several days, in and out of consciousness. We were all just waiting for her to slip away to Jesus. Tonight, at around 7pm, five days after her stroke, one of her daughters at the hospital called Grandma and had her talk to her dying sister. As though she was waiting to hear her twin's voice one last time in 88 years, Auntie LaVerne finally let go and died an hour later. 

I imagine her now in heaven, with a bigger smile than I ever saw (if that's possible) and giving hugs to so many loved ones who were there waiting for her. Her parents, several siblings, two sons, two great-grandsons, and more souls who were blessed enough to be a part of Auntie LaVerne's life. She sure made her one life counted. She loved big. She loved her Savior. She loved her husband, Ed. She loved her family and so many friends. 

My grandma and Auntie LaVerne, cozy in an over-sized chair at a baby shower for my first child.

Two different times this week, as I mourned the fact that we were losing Auntie LaVerne, God reminded me of his faithfulness. The first time was on Friday morning when I was reading my Bible and devotional. I read a quick devotional from Our Daily Bread most mornings. Friday morning the title was "Precious Departure" and it said this: "The idea that death is precious might seem counterintuitive; however, the psalmist declares, 'Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his faithful servants' (Psalm 116:15). God treasures the death of His people, for in their passing He welcomes them home." How wonderful that Auntie LaVerne was not only treasured here in our world by so many who loved her, but also by her Savior.

The second time God used His Word to remind me of his goodness and faithfulness, even in death, was the family devotion we read just two days ago. Each day we try to carve out time to read "The One Year Devotions for Preschoolers" with our two kids. Yesterday the title was "Life Goes On" and it was just a few short sentences about we are sad when people die because we can't see them anymore. But Jesus tells people to believe in Him and then they will live forever with Him in heaven.

I will miss you, Auntie. I look forward to seeing you again someday. I'm looking forward to that next hug from you. Thank you for your testimony of being a woman of God. Thank you for all you meant to me. I love you, Auntie LaVerne.

Seven Resources to Up Your Christian Mom Game

If you were to ask me what makes for a perfect mom, I would say to you (in my best Dwight Schrute imitation), “Trick question. There’s no such thing as a perfect mom.” Because there isn’t. I dare you to find one perfect mom. She cannot be found.

Every Instagramming mom whose feed is full of her elaborate birthday parties/made-from-scratch-organic meals/adorable wardrobe pieces, every blogger with ALL the parenting advice, every woman you sit next to at church, every mom crushing it in the boardroom, every homeschooling-stay-at-home-mom…they ALL make mistakes. Moms yell, forget stuff that’s important, unjustly punish their kids, fear that they’re messing up this parenting gig, have guilt about something they feel they're lacking in, argue with their kids, and the list goes on.

Because there are no perfect moms, we all need a little extra help at times as we navigate this giant responsibility of raising humans. This is a list of seven books and podcasts that have helped me, given me good things to ponder, pointed me in a better direction than I was headed, and have been aids in upping my game as a Christian Mom.

1. Gist: The Essence of Raising Life-Ready Kids by Michael W. Anderson, LP & Timothy D. Johanson, MD

This book is really for any mom or dad. And it isn’t faith-based at all. But I heard about this book on a Christian podcast and was very intrigued by the interview of the two authors. This book was written by a Licensed Psychologist and a Pediatrician. It covers foundational principles of life, such as love must evolve, learning & anti-learning, and the difference between fun & joy (all of these are chapter titles). It also talks about core development children need, such as self-esteem, telling the truth, and not being over-parented. If you would have asked me before I read this book if I were over-parenting, I would have said no. But the bar Anderson and Johanson set for over-parenting is not nearly as high as I had it. I am over-parenting. One of their biggest points is “words don’t equal parenting.” Meaning oftentimes parents talk too much at their kids, instead of making their point and letting it be.

At times the book is a bit dry as it gets a little bit into clinical topics. And I was hoping it was bit more set up as, “This is the issue your child has? Well, this is how you can address it.” But it was more of a “warning” book, giving examples of ways kids are raised that does not get them life-ready, without many “solutions.” However, there were a few nuggets of wisdom I gleaned and now have in my bag of parenting tricks if I need them.

https://www.amazon.com

2. Finding Your Purpose as a Mom: How to Build Your Home on Holy Ground by Donna Otto with Anne Christian Buchanan

I think I heard this author being interviewed on a podcast as well and promptly ordered her book. This book covers ways to make your home a holy ground, no matter your age or stage of life. Donna examines ways to make your home a place of love and peace, a place of growth, and a place of service. There are questions to reflect on at the end of each chapter and she gives some practical, Biblical advice to make your home a ministry to others – both those who live in it and those who visit it. There is a page in this book where Donna wrote out what could be a creed, or roadmap to making a Christ-centered home. I tweaked her words a bit to make it personal, wrote it on a piece of cardstock, and stuck it somewhere I have seen it every day for the past three years. It’s a good reminder of what I’m aiming for when building our home on holy ground.

https://www.amazon.com

3. The Ministry of Motherhood: Following Christ’s Example in Reaching the Hearts of Our Children by Sally Clarkson

This book really challenged me in both my role as a parent and how I need to step up my perseverance in my relationship with Jesus. This book encouraged me to make my faith a higher priority, without guilting me into feeling that way. This book covers the many gifts a mother can give to her children. Sections are broken out into the gift of grace, the gift of inspiration, the gift of faith, the gift of training, and the gift of service. This book was easy to read with short chapters I could consume in small or big chunks. Sally has a way of retelling stories from the scripture, showing us how Jesus gave those he lived with (his disciples) the gifts discussed in the book as well as reaching their hearts. He was the ultimate example of ministering to those closest to him.

https://www.amazon.com

4. Treasuring Christ When Your Hands are Full: Gospel Meditations for Busy Moms by Gloria Furman

This book examines how moms who are overwhelmed with all sorts of parenting aspects need to lean on Christ. It gives advice regarding treasuring Christ with gospel-centered wisdom, without being a “how-to” book. The book on viewing motherhood as worship is a quick read.

https://www.amazon.com

5. Triggers: Exchanging Parents’ Angry Reactions for Gentle Biblical Responses by Amber Lia & Wendy Speake

This has been the most helpful book I’ve ever read on Christian parenting. I yell at my young children WAY more than I want to. I do not like being the yelling mom and the guilt over it can be crushing to my spirit. And it’s not God-honoring behavior. Once again, this was a book I heard about when the authors were interviewed on a podcast. The first half of the book examines external triggers, or behaviors our children exhibit that can cause our anger to be triggered. Chapters cover behaviors like disobedience, backtalk, lying, sibling rivalry, video game addiction, and ignoring instruction. The second half of the book looks at internal triggers, or areas where we can personally struggle which can trigger anger. Chapters cover areas like running late, going it all alone, messy homes, stress, feelings of guilt, and challenging relationships with in-laws. There are helpful scripture passages throughout the chapters, to remind readers what God says about these topics. There is also a prayer at the end of each chapter, and I have dog-eared a few of those prayer pages so I can go back to them again and again. This book sits on my nightstand so I can pick it up and read a quick chapter when I’m struggling with anger. The chapters are short and there are 31 of them so you can read it in a month if you read one each day.

https://www.amazon.com

6. Focus on the Family Podcast

So what is this podcast I’ve been referring to, the one where I’ve heard so many authors interviewed? It’s the podcast from the Christian Ministry, Focus on the Family. Years ago, before I even had a family, I used to listen to their broadcasts on a local Christian music radio station during my commute. When the station dropped the broadcasts, I went years without listening. Then I discovered a few years ago they have a podcast. Not every episode is about parenting. Some are about marriage, cultural issues, or testimonies of incredible Christ-followers. But many episodes cover parenting topics. Recent episodes have included: How to Raise Strong Believers, Rising to the Challenge of Parenting, Homemade Meals for Busy Families, Trusting God With Your Adult Children, and Raising Boys to be Godly Young Men. All episodes are about 30 minutes and some topics have two episodes. Many an episode has brought me to tears as I stood at my kitchen sink, washing dishes. It is my favorite podcast to listen to because it is so helpful and inspirational. If you don't listen to podcasts, you can access their broadcasts directly from their website.

https://www.focusonthefamily.com/

7. The Working Christian Mom Podcast with NJ Rongner

This is a helpful and at times entertaining podcast. The host is NJ Rongner, a Christian mom who used to be a work-from-home mom, working as an entrepreneur. In 2019 she began working full-time outside of the home. So this podcast is for any working mom, whether she’s working for herself or for an employer. Pretty much on every episode, she interviews another working Christian mom. Some of the topics she has covered with this podcast include: Making Time for Mom Friends, Parenting Beyond the Rules, An Honest Conversation About Loss, Handling Professional Disappointments, and Trusting Jesus to Heal Our Complicated Motherhood Stories.

http://www.workingchristianmom.com/

There are so many great resources out there to help us raise our children as we seek to glorify God. We all have shortcomings and it’s nice when you find a book that “gets you” and offers you some ideas as you lean on Christ for wisdom and guidance.

Books on my “to read” list for the upcoming year include Making Children Mind Without Losing Yours by Dr. Kevin Leman, The 5 Love Languages of Children: The Secret to Loving Children Effectively by Gary Chapman & Ross Campbell, The Power of a Praying Parent by Stormie Omartian, I Can’t Believe You Just Said That!: Biblical Wisdom for Taming Your Child’s Tongue by Ginger Hubbard, Mama Bear Apologetics: Empowering Your Kids to Challenge Cultural Lies by Hillary Morgan Ferrer & Nancy Pearcey. And I want to reread Power of a Praying Wife by Stormie Omartian, which I read for the first time this past year.

Grandma Paulson's Eulogy

We buried my grandma, Irene Paulson, on Saturday, December 7, 2019. I was asked to speak at her funeral. As I thought about it and prayed how I could best honor her, I felt God saying to me, "Just say what she would want people to know. Tell them about Jesus." So I did. The following is the eulogy I wrote and read at her funeral to honor my family's matriarch and to pay tribute to her steadfast devotion to Jesus.

Today we all gather together to remember and celebrate a very special woman, my grandma. What a joyous privilege it is to honor her today, to laugh together, and to talk about the things we loved about her. Especially at this time of year, during the Christmas season when we’re celebrating the birth of Jesus.

I was very blessed to grow up with my grandma close by, being a big part of my life. I have a lot of fond memories of Sunday dinners she cooked up for us at the farmhouse. I saw her every Sunday here, in this very church, my entire childhood and into young adulthood. She came to my band & choir concerts, sporting events, and birthday parties. Like any loving grandparent, she enjoyed supporting all of her grandkids in their extra-curricular activities. She saw a lot of wrestling matches, football games, basketball games, and volleyball matches. She attended all sorts of school concerts. She really enjoyed watching her grandkids sing and perform.

Many years ago, before our family exploded in size, we would all pile into Grandma and Grandpa’s farmhouse to celebrate Christmas. I remember there were years when some of the adults would sit down at Grandma’s dining room table for a game of Trivial Pursuit while we were there for Christmas, usually playing in pairs. Us kids would stand behind the chairs, gathered around, listening to the game being played. And whoever was teamed up with Grandma, usually won. She knew so many things! I remember even as a young girl realizing how smart my grandma was.

Besides being smart, the other thing people probably noticed pretty quickly about Grandma as they got to know her was that she loved Jesus. Her faith was a huge part of her life.

When Grandpa was alive, he would read out loud a devotion from Our Daily Bread and then the passage of Scripture referenced for that day’s devotion. He did this every day when his family was seated around the dinner table. This was a challenging thing to sit through as a kid. Because you had to be quiet and sit still. We would constantly be “shushed” as Grandpa’s baritone voice read Bible verses before he prayed for the meal. But this consistent action of inviting God into their home and pausing to recognize that every good and perfect gift is from above, as it says in the book of James, was a priority in my grandparent’s lives. And it was started as an act of worship because my grandma wanted God to be honored in her home. She was the one who insisted on family devotion time.

If Grandma knew you by name, she prayed for you. And she would tell you so. There were so many Sundays that I sat right down there, next to her. And when the time of the service would come to talk about prayer requests, she would sit there with pen and paper, writing down the prayer requests so she could later remember and be intentional in her prayer time at home.

When she was in her 80s, Grandma had a couple of her teenage grandkids approach her and ask if she would be willing to lead them in a Bible study. And guess what. She opened up her apartment to her grandkids and their friends and led them in a Bible study. What a special time that must have been. I would imagine that a woman in her 80s and teenagers don’t have a whole lot of common ground. Except that they all recognized they needed Jesus in their lives.

Because Grandma passed away during the Christmas season, I’ve been thinking a lot about past Christmases. Once the Paulson family had too many people to fit into a house, we moved our Christmas celebration right here, to Reeve Church. Grandma loved her Savior. And one of her greatest desires was to have everyone she loved also have a personal relationship with Jesus. There were many Christmases where we would gather, and Grandma would share the gospel message. She spoke about how Jesus died for each of us. How we all need to confess our sin to God, believe that Jesus died on the cross for us, and then rose again and is alive today. She told us that Jesus was the only way to heaven as it says in John 14:6. Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes through the Father except through me.” She wanted to make sure her family knew Jesus loves us, that he died for us, that not one of us is beyond his grip of saving grace. Grandma knew the joy of serving God and being sold out to him. She wanted everyone to also know and experience that joy. To have a daily relationship with him.

My grandma is in heaven today. Of that we’re certain. And it’s not because she had a stellar church attendance record. Sitting in church doesn’t get you into heaven. And it’s not because she taught Sunday School years ago or lead a Bible study for teenagers. Your works do not get you into heaven. And it wasn’t because she was sweet and read her Bible so much she knew it forward and backward. You can’t earn your way into heaven. It wasn’t her parents’ faith, her husbands’ faith, or anyone else’s faith that got her to heaven. You don’t get there by association. It was because she confessed in her heart that she was a sinner. We all are. Romans 3:23 says, “For all have sinned and fall short of the Glory of God.” She put her trust in Jesus. Her salvation was the foundation of her faith. All that other stuff, going to church, praying, serving others, reading the Bible. Those were the building blocks she stacked on the foundation to build a beautiful life chasing hard after the heart of God.

Like I said before, all Grandma wanted was for her family to love and serve Jesus. And a lot of us do. Not because Irene Paulson said so and we did it for her. But because we’ve recognized our need for Jesus and have been changed by the saving grace of Jesus Christ.

Grandma died on Monday. That night, when I put my five-year-old daughter to bed, I told her that Great-Grandma Paulson had died. Betsy cried a little bit and then, as most five-year-old do, she had some questions. In the weeks leading up to Grandma’s death, Betsy had a lot of questions about God, Satan, Heaven, hell, the cross, and Jesus. The things she is learning in Sunday School and Wednesday night kids church is starting to resonate with her and she’s starting to understand the gospel. Monday night, after talking about it, Betsy asked, “Will I go to Heaven?” And I again told her what we all need to do to go to Heaven, as we had been talking about the previous weeks. Betsy then decided she wanted to confess her sin and ask Jesus into her heart. I think Grandma would be delighted to know that the day she saw the face of her Savior in Heaven, her great-granddaughter accepted Christ and started her own faith journey. And that is the miracle of the gospel! It’s something a young child can understand and recognize their need for Jesus. And yet the gospel is so complex that a relationship with Jesus can be carried out until you’re 91 years old! Even at 91, Grandma was still coming to church to worship with her friends and family. She was still learning by attending Bible study. She was still spending time with God by reading the Bible and having prayer time. She was STILL chasing hard after the heart of God. So what JOY she must have experienced when she was ushered into Heaven and heard what Jesus said in Matthew 25:21, “Well done my good and faithful servant.”

My last day with Grandma

My grandma died today. Just typing those words makes me teary-eyed. But even through all the tears and though I will miss her, today was still a good day.

Yesterday my grandma went to the church she has attended for, oh, I don't know...over 50 years, just like she did every Sunday. Toward the end of the service, she didn't feel well and quickly fell quite ill. Her oldest son took her straight from church to the ER. The problem was diagnosed and was irreversible. It fell on her children to let the rest of the family know that Grandma had only a day or two left on our earth.

So today, many of her loved ones gathered at her hospital bedside to say goodbye. Yesterday she could talk and was able to speak on the phone to her brother, a grand-daughter, and maybe some others. She had several visitors yesterday. Today she was too weak to talk but was awake most of the day. Her breathing was labored and she would breathe faster when the pain increased.

I was at the hospital for a couple of hours. During those short hours, there were 38 family members present. Her children, several grandchildren, and a few great-grandchildren came to say goodbye. We kinda sorta took over the hallway. At times there were many people in her room. Other times, just a couple. Most of the time I was there she was aware of who was talking to her, her eyes fixed on their face.

I stroked her shoulder and told her I loved her. She was able to kind of breath out/sigh "love you" back to me. They were the last words she spoke to me. I knew those words were true the entire 45 years of my life she was there for. Besides my mom, no one in my life as ever expressed verbally that they love me as much as my grandma did. She told me all the time, pretty much every time I saw her. And I never doubted her words.

My mom read Psalm 23 to her, through tears, because Grandma loved Scripture so much and it was a huge part of who she was. I'm so glad that the last place she went before she got so sick was her beloved church. She got to spend time with her church family one last time. She was the oldest congregant of her church, at 91 years of age.

As I stood by her bedside today, I didn't know what to say, so I sang. I told her I would sing to her the songs I sing to my daughter every night at bedtime. So I sang these words:
Oh, how I love Jesus
Oh, how I love Jesus
Oh, how I love Jesus
Because he first loved me
I cried through most of that little chorus and my voice cracked quite a bit. But then I was able to continue, without crying much.

Then I sang to her another song I sing to my daughter most every night.
God is so good
God is so good
God is so good
He's so good to me.

He loves me so
He loves me so
He loves me so
He's so good to me.

Then I sang the chorus to my favorite hymn, How Great Thou Art. When I began to sing that her eyes opened wider and her mouth was moving like she was trying to say the words. I was so emotional that I couldn't think of the first verse, so I started at the chorus:
Then sings my soul
My Savior God to thee
How great thou art
How great thou art.
Then sings my soul
My Savior God to thee
How great thou art
How great thou art.
My uncle, Howard, was the only other person in the room at the time, and so he started in at the second verse. I joined in and we stood by her bed, a duet with a nice baritone voice and my crackly/crying voice. It was a very special moment. My uncle and I told her how important her faith was in our lives and that her love for Jesus was her legacy.

Right before I left the hospital to go back home, I went back to her bedside one last time to say goodbye. I just stood next to her, looking at her, her eyes barely open. Her breathing was quite labored. I stroked her face, told her I loved her. She couldn't respond. I told her to rest and the final words I said were, "Sweet Grandma." Because that's what she was. So sweet. Never said a bad word about anyone. Loved Jesus with her whole heart. Treasured her church family, her time reading the Bible, praying, and never wanted anything more than her family to love Jesus. That's all she ever wanted.

She slipped away to Jesus a few hours after I left the hospital. She's pain-free and with Grandpa, who left us 22 years ago. Her stomach issues are gone. Her aches and pains are gone. Her diabetes is gone. She saw the face of her Savior today. And that's what makes our sad day a good day.

Happy retirement, Dad!

* Disclaimer: all info in this blog post is from my recollection so it might not be 100% accurate. I'm sure I will be corrected if it's not.

My dad grew up in a small farming community, raised in a family with nine kids and his father was a dairy farmer himself. Being one of nine and living on a farm, you don't really have a choice but to become a hard worker. So that's what my dad has been his whole life - a hard worker.

When my dad was a teenager, he got a job working at Junkans Motors - a small local business that repaired farm machinery. He was a Senior in High School and he walked up to Dick Junkans and asked if he had any part-time work. No application, no interview. Dick said he did and Dad started right away. The summer after he graduated, Dick said, "You're sticking around, right?" Dad said he had planned to if he could work full-time that summer. The next school year he commuted to college and put in a semester or two. After that, he was a full-time workin' man. At the ripe old age of 20, my dad married my mom. He needed a few days off for the wedding and a quick honeymoon getaway. It was probably the first time he had asked for time off since he had started at Junkans. His boss told him he could have the time off, but he needed to find someone to cover his work. He asked his friend, Kevin Monson, to fill in. When Dad came back to work, Kevin stayed. 

A few years later, my dad thought it might be time to look for a different job. He landed an interview at a local food processing plant (then called Land O' Lakes). My dad thinks that somehow his boss found out about the interview and that he was looking for a different job. It is a small town, so that's completely possible. So I believe it was the next day (or shortly thereafter) when Dick approached him and said something to the effect of, "I'm looking to sell my business. Do you want to buy it?" And so that's what happened. In their early 20s, my dad and Kevin decided to buy Junkans Motors and go into business together. They took on a third partner, one of their co-workers named Lawrence Hanson. Except no one called him Lawrence. His nickname was Squirrel (for reasons unknown to me) and I didn't know that his "real name" wasn't Squirrel until I was a teenager myself.

A newspaper clipping from 1975. My dad is the second one on the left. His name is spelled wrong. Next to him is his oldest brother. Then there's Squirrel (his last name is also spelled wrong) and Kevin is on the far right.

Since there was no one with the last name Junkans in the business picture any longer, the business was renamed. The three co-owners had last names of MonSON, HanSON, and PaulSON. I believe they had a contest to rename the business. A local woman submitted the name "Son Equipment." If you said it fast enough, it kind of ran together and sounded like "Sunny Quipment." Amongst my family and many of the Monson family, it became referred to as "The Shop." 

A new building, just on the edge of town, right on the highway, was built and it became my second childhood home. I spent hours at Son Equipment. My dad ran the garage part of the business (the shop), Squirrel ran the parts counter, and Kevin ran the office and sales part of the business. That's not to say you wouldn't find Kevin back in the shop or my dad in the office...they both pitched in with all aspects of the business.

My entire childhood my dad pretty much worked a 50-60 hour work week. He worked every other Saturday. He unlocked the door and turned on the lights every day. He fixed on tractors and farm equipment. Many times he drove out to farms and fields to repair a broken down piece of machinery that a farmer had tried to get going but needed help. 

My dad's hands were pretty much always stained from grease and motor oil. He smelled like "shop" when he came home. His work boots were a fixture in our entryway. The Shop was a big part of our lives, of course. Squirrel eventually retired, selling his part of the business to Dad and Kevin, leaving them as the sole owners. It was a good fit as a partnership, Kevin being a bit more of a risk-taker than my dad, my dad being the one to always carefully weigh the pros and cons of business decisions. And both of them were willing to roll up their sleeves and do the hard work of running a small local business, serving their community they raised their families in.

In the 1980s, small family dairy farms were struggling as the farming industry was taking a big financial hit. So in the early 90s, the business switched over from farm machinery sales and repair to used car sales and repair. And the business name changed from Son Equipment to Son Auto. We still called it The Shop. 

As a teenager, I did odd jobs around Son - mostly washing cars, getting them ready to go out on the car lot. I showed that pressure washer who was boss. I vacuumed out the interior, I scraped off window tint, I ran through a checklist to make sure all radios and blinkers and windows were in working order, and I checked oil and windshield fluid levels. Sometimes I drove all around the countryside, picking up parts at other stores and garages. One time I was sent to a town about 25 miles away, in a pickup truck without a speedometer that didn't work, to haul back a piece of farm machinery. I think it was a disk. It was wide and took up the whole lane and then some. The farmer hooked it up to the pickup truck and off I headed back. But the thing swayed so much that the pickup truck would start to rock if I got going too fast. But I had no idea where the threshold of beginning to sway was because I had no speedometer. I held up traffic for miles on stretches of two-lane road where I couldn't be passed on the highway. I got a lot of honks. I don't think I could go much over 25 mph and it well over an hour to get back to Son. As a teenager, this was a highly embarrassing and stressful situation I found myself in. One guy passed me and as he drove by, he mocked me by swaying his shoulders back and forth, rocking like I was inside that pickup truck.

Once I got my license, I always brought my car to Son to wash it. I was out of college before I drove through a car wash for the first time. I was married before I ever took my car anywhere to get an oil change - my dad always did it for me in the shop. It has been quite handy and fortunate to have a dad that knows "all things cars" and can fix it. And if he can't fix it, my sisters, husband, and brothers-in-law call him and ask if the price quote we got from another garage is reasonable or inflated.

And so it went for many years - Dad and Kevin selling and fixing cars at Son Auto. They tried to be as fair as possible to employees and customers, helping as many people as they could. My dad would get early morning calls and phone calls on Sunday at the house from people needing him to figure out their car problem from over the phone. And he could do it. Sometimes it was someone broken down on the side of the road and they needed rescuing. Sometimes it was a brother or friend who was working on a car and needed some advice. Dad got good at doing diagnostics without even looking at the vehicle. So much so that when my husband and I were dating, we were at a birthday party at my parents' house and he wanted to ask my dad for permission to marry me. His plan was to use his Jeep as a ruse to get my dad out of the house for a private conversation. He told my dad that he wanted him to look at his Jeep because he was having an issue with the air vent blower not working correctly. My dad asked him a couple of questions then told him what the problem was and what needed to be done to fix it, all without leaving the living room. And thwarting my husband's plan that day.

Eventually, the business sold and fixed speed boats and pontoon boats, in addition to cars. A couple more locations were added. Then they opened a couple auto parts store around the area. Several years ago Dad and Kevin were approached by a friend and local businessman who wanted to buy their business. The business was sold and they stayed on as employees, having a boss for the first time since the mid-1970s. My dad had his very first performance review (insert an eye roll by me). Without going into specifics, shortly after the business was sold, circumstances out of their control changed. Kevin left to find another job and it was the strangest thought to me that my dad and his business partner for almost 40 years wouldn't be working together any longer. Change is hard. At least for me, it is.

Another change happened when the "auto parts" part of the business was sold off and my dad went along with it. He moved to another store in a different town. It was another change that was a bit hard to get used to...knowing I would never be in the old Son Auto - the building I spent hours and hours of my childhood in. Knowing that Dad wouldn't have access to a shop to fix cars in, no access to trailers and skid steers and other equipment used to get things done. Again, change is hard. Eventually, Dad returned to a job back in his hometown, just down the road from the old Son Auto, at another location of the parts store he worked for. He no longer had any association with what was Son Auto. It was a new business name, with a new owner, with a new business plan.

Dad and grandkid #6 at his job in 2014.

Dad and grandkid #7 at his job in 2017.

My dad is the hardest working person I know. And today is his last day of work. He is retiring after working five days one week, six days the next, for about 50 years. I'm sure that there were times during his time as a business owner that he wanted to quit. But so many people were relying on him and Kevin. I'm sure there were a ton of hard-to-deal-with situations I never knew anything about - things that kept him awake at night. I'm sure Dad and Kevin didn't always agree on everything. But they changed with the times, pivoted their business, served the community, employed many people through the years - all without college degrees. They put in the long hard hours as business owners and made a lot of sacrifices. I'm so proud of my dad. He is one of the most fair, reasonable, responsible men I will ever know and I'm so grateful he raised me and worked hard for me, my mom, and my sisters.

My kids and my dad on his last day of work. I decided spur of the moment to bring him balloons and lunch to celebrate (and because I always need closure on life changes).

Enjoy your retirement, Dad! Your kids and grandkids are excited that you now get to sleep in, nap when you want, come to ALL the activities, and spend more time with us. When you're not doing yard work, working on home improvements, working up at the cabin, or helping us with projects at our homes, that is.

Oh, and P.S. my dad was at our house a few days ago and replaced a couple of parts on one of our cars. Some things never change.

Big time sports in a small time town

In 1986 one of the sports-movies-to-end-all-sports-movies was released. A tiny Indiana town scrapes together a few boys who overcome several hurdles to put together a scrappy season. The town rallies behind the boys and momentum grows until finally the underdog team from a town no one has ever heard of triumphs over a much larger school. Jimmy Chitwood sinks the last second shot to win the 1952 basketball championship. If you know anything about sports movies, you know I'm talking about the movie Hoosiers.

I have watched Hoosiers so many times and I've cried more than once during the pinnacle scene. There's just something about a story of an underdog that moves us, doesn't it? But this movie has always moved me for a different reason, due to the fact that it's a movie not just about a small town team, but it's also a movie about a small town.

I grew up in a small town. Whatever "small town" means to you, think smaller. As you drove into town, there's a population sign and most of my childhood it read "899." Then, at the next census, it jumped. To 901.

My graduating class had 50 students. When I took driver's education, I had to drive to the next town down the road with my instructor to practice driving through a stoplight. Because my town has never had one. Growing up, I could show you where every single classmate of mine lived, I could tell you their pet's name, I could tell you what church they attended, and I could tell you what car they drove when we all got our driver's licenses. I moved away from my hometown 25 years ago when I went to college. My parents still live there and not much has changed. Including that fact that nothing brings our small town together like an exciting sports season with any of the high school's teams.

When I was in high school, I was on the basketball team. My freshman year I was on Junior Varsity (also sometimes known as the "B" squad). I had three friends that were bumped up to Varsity, even though they were only freshmen. With such a young team, our Varsity did not have a winning record that year. My sophomore year I played on both Junior Varsity and Varsity. It was the most physically exhausting time of my life because I practiced with both teams. I played in several Varsity games and that year, due to more experience, we fared a little better. We had a winning record for the first time in a few seasons. We won the first round of tournament play and you would have thought we won the entire championship...we were so excited. We lost the very next game to end our season, but it was an improvement over the previous year. My junior year, we really got rolling. I think our record was something like 22-2.

In my state, the basketball playoffs are Regionals, then you advance to Sectionals, then you advance to the State Tournament. Keep winning, keep playing. Lose and you're done. Schools are matched up by enrollment numbers. So schools play other schools relatively the same student body size.

My junior year, during tournament time we won the first two games to become Regional Champs. We had two games to win in Sectionals to get to the State Tournament in girls' basketball for the first time in our town's history. We won the first Sectional game but lost the game that would have put us in the State Tournament. My senior year, the exact thing happened. Against the same teams. In a wild coincidence, the same four teams made it to Sectionals and the outcome was exactly the same. We beat the same team in the first game, we lost to the same team in the second game. Both years we were so close to making it to the State Tournament!  But it was not to be.

What I remember most about those winning years was the camaraderie with my teammates, the butterflies in my stomach at the start of every game, the teams we battled against, and the support from the fans. The support from our small town was incredible. I would go to our local grocery store and people I bumped into would say, "Good game last night," or "You girls are going to win next week." For many games during the regular season, the stands were full. But during tournament time, they were packed. The whole town and then some would show up to support us. Alumni would come back from college to watch. Older alumni would bring their families to watch and cheer. The bleachers would be a sea of blue and white, our school colors. And it would get SO LOUD. Every made basket was celebrated. Students and adults jumped out of their seats multiple times. Cheerleaders rallied the fans in chants of support. At times the volume was so high in the gyms that we could barely hear our coach from the bench or even each other out on the floor.

To this day, twenty-five years later, when I go to a high school basketball game, I still get butterflies in my stomach when the pep band is playing in the gym, the smell of popcorn floats through the air, the players' shoes are squeaking on the floor during warm-ups, and then the warm-up clock buzzes, the players are introduced and the refs assemble the teams on the floor for the opening jump ball. Those butterflies are Pavlovian, I suppose. All those sounds, smells, and sights bring back a lot of memories and feelings.

Seven years after my team got so close to the State Tournament, the girls' basketball team DID make it to State for the first time in our school's history. (The boys' one appearance at State happened in 1972.) You can bet that I was there, cheering on those girls. It was an exciting time and support from the community was out in full-force. Signs in store windows, pep rallies, buses full of students, blue and white shirts on everyone, signs being held up at games, a rowdy and excited student section, a loud and proud pep band giving it their all. And it's all happening again right now.

This time it's the boys' basketball team making a run of it towards the State Tournament. And even though I live 50 miles away and haven't been to a game this year, it's all very exciting all over again. My parents go to just about every basketball game, even though they haven't had a child in the school system in 16 years. That's what you do in a small town. You support every team and cheer on kids you have watched grow up. You watch children of second, third, and maybe even fourth generations of families who have been playing basketball for the school for years. Both my dad and my grandpa played basketball at the same high school I did. At least three of the boys on the team this year has a parent that went to high school with me (man, I'm old). Through my parents being fans, I've heard updates and stories about this year's team. My parents took my daughter to her first basketball game last week to watch this team of boys. She's told me that she wouldn't go again because her "heart was too loud in her chest." That means the bass drum in the pep band was loud and she's four so that's the best way she could explain that. To her, the best part of the game was the bag of popcorn she consumed.

I am loving seeing all of the photos on Facebook of all of the boys' games. I love seeing the sea of blue and white sitting in the bleachers. I love seeing the joy and pride on the faces of the fans, players, and parents as this team takes the whole town on an exciting and wild ride. And it's different when it's your own hometown, versus another team you're rooting for. I have two cousins who grew up in a small town, about the same size as mine. When they were in high school they made it to the State Tournament in both football and basketball. And boy, was that an exciting time. I went to several games, cheered for my cousins, cheered for their friends I had gotten to know. But it just isn't the same as when it's your own town playing.

This is one of the best parts of being from a small town...supporting the local high school team, whether it's basketball, football, volleyball, or wrestling. And when it's a season where the team is really good, it's just so unifying for all those fans. There just isn't really anything else like it.

I won't be able to go to the big Sectional game tomorrow and if the boys win and make it to the State Tournament, I won't be able to go to that either. But I'll be cheering from afar! And maybe I'll pop Hoosiers into the DVD player, just for old times' sake.

Billy Graham

Billy Graham finally saw the face of his Savior today, when he passed away and entered Heaven. This morning when the news story broke on the TV station I was watching, they ran a piece highlighting his life and ministry and I cried. My husband and I have had the conversation before on the subject of celebrities dying and that people cry over a person they personally never knew. I told my husband I couldn't think of one celebrity that I would cry about when they die. I was wrong. I've been weepy all morning over Billy Graham's death. But it's not tears over the man so much, as tears over what he meant to so many people, worldwide.

In 2015 we took a family vacation to North Carolina.
We went to a Billy Graham exhibit at a museum in Raleigh.
This was a snapshot I took of one of Billy's Bibles.

Billy Graham was a huge part of the Christian culture where I grew up. Once upon a time, he was the president at the Christian school where I started my college career. He left that position to go into his preaching ministry full-time. His legacy was still felt at that school when I attended over twenty years ago; forty years after he left. Billy's ministry headquarters were also located in the Twin Cities for many years before moving to his home state of North Carolina. He also started the biggest local Christian radio station in the Twin Cities. Yes, the format is very different from when he started it over sixty years ago, but the purpose of the radio station remains the same. To proclaim the gospel. The station reaches millions every day with the good news that Jesus came to save mankind. The ripple effects of Billy's ministry will never be known this side of heaven.

But perhaps the biggest impact of Billy Graham's legacy in my life is the fact that my grandparents went to one of his crusades in 1950 and accepted Christ. Of course, I'm sure that there were many people in my grandparents' lives that contributed to their faith journey. They both grew up going to church. I'm sure their mothers prayed for them. They had Sunday School teachers and pastors who poured into their lives. But Billy Graham was the one that got them to cross the finish line and start their new lives in Christ. The gospel message that Billy spoke that day finally reaped all of the seeds of faith that so many had sown into my grandparents' lives. Because of their decision, they raised six children in a Christian home. My grandma's favorite verse is Joshua 24:15 which says, "But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." And they have served their Savior faithfully together for over 60 years. And because of that, their daughter did the same and raised me in a Christian home that served the Lord. And now, I do the same with my family.

So why am I so weepy today? Good grief, the man was 99. He lived a good, long life. He is in the very presence of Jesus and with his beloved wife, Ruth. I never attended one of Billy Graham's crusades. I did not know the man personally. I think one of the reasons for my tears is because his legacy is part of the fabric woven into my journey of faith. But I think mostly it's because of what he stood for - The Gospel of Jesus Christ. The fact that Jesus left Heaven to come to earth to die on a cross so that sinful mankind can enter into a relationship with God is the most paradoxical event in history. The gospel...so simple a child can understand it. Yet so complicated that biblical scholars have debated it and dissected it for centuries. The gospel...it can humble you to your knees, in a low posture. Yet it can cause you to reach your hands as high as possible, in as big of a posture as you can muster. The gospel...it can make you weep while wearing the biggest smile on your face. The gospel...it brings freedom to those who believe it. Yet some rulers and governments in history have tried to repress it because of their fear. Billy Graham was about one thing - telling as many people as possible around the world the good news of the gospel. His greatest goal was to point others to Christ. He knew that the gospel cannot and will not be stopped. God gave him a giant and far-reaching platform to tell people all over the world. And people listened. They flocked to Billy's crusades by the millions. Because Billy spoke the truth. And it was never about him. It was always about Jesus.

Was Billy Graham perfect? Nope. Far from it. Because no one is perfect. Did Billy realize that he was a sinner and only the saving grace of Jesus Christ could rescue him and give him life? Yes. Does God love Billy Graham more than He loves you? Nope. Will we ever have the scope of ministry Billy was given? Nope. In Mark 25 Jesus told a parable of what Heaven is like. This is the passage of scripture where Jesus is quoted as saying, "Well done, good and faithful servant." Those are the six words that every Christ follower longs to hear when they enter Heaven. I am certain that Billy Graham heard those precious words today. Not because of the number of people he brought to Christ (I don't think God really cares about stats). But rather because he was obedient to God's calling on his life and he did his best for Jesus with what he was given. May we all do the same.