the difference in –

9 Sep
Grocery shopping.
There are pros and there are cons to both the Dawson-style of grocery shopping and the St.Paul version of grocery shopping.
Tonight, I was very annoyed by the St.Paul version.
It’s impossible to run out and grab anything.  First, drive through approximately ten stop-and-go lights.  Ten minutes if you’re lucky and they’re green; fifteen if they’re red.  Second, wait to check out in lines at least four customers deep.  Third, it just takes too long.  I had a list of ten, maybe fifteen things to grab and it took me an hour.  Gross.
And I kept looking up at people as they passed.  Do I know that person?  No.  Of course not.  If someone cut me off suddenly with their cart, no acknowledgment or apology.  Just a continued run to where they were headed.
I’m disenfranchised with city grocery shopping.  Months ago, I would have told you that I disliked shopping in Dawson because of the lack of options.  And the fact that you couldn’t go in and out without finding someone you know and have a five minute conversation with the traditional Minnesotan goodbye would sometimes get to my introverted self.  But a run to Tim’s now sounds very favorable.  (Even better if they would carry hummus.  Because I bought good hummus tonight.)  After my hour outing for Craisins, coffee necessities, and a few other things that ended up taking an hour of my night, I think I prefer the Dawson version at the moment.

agreed.

8 Sep
I agree with each and every one of these which were posted on a blog I regularly follow —

Ten Important Things I’ve Learned About Blogging

In style with #10, I love you.  Thanks for reading my blog.
(insert high five or hug depending upon our real-world relationship)

new year.

7 Sep
From this point on, it’s a new year. 
First, the blogging will continue but in a different way.  I’m no longer in Dawson (still crying about that one occasionally) and no longer on internship but in blogging throughout last year, I discovered that I like it and many people told me they like reading it.  It’s pretty darn narcissistic – hey, Lindsay, write about yourself and people will read it.  In many ways, in many posts, this blogging thing is helpful to me in processing and working through life.  It’s therapeutic (and something tells me I’ll need lots of therapeutic writing time this year).  Even if no one read it, I would continue.  So I’ll keep writing and if you want to keep reading, you are more than welcome.  
Second, a new school year.  Today was day number one.  My roommate and I decided we should take the traditional first-day-back-to-school pictures to show off our first day outfits and eager smiles.  Eager?  Well.  Something like that.  My family always took back-to-school pictures in front of the fridge; Jeanette said hers were taken in the birch tree.  We’re doing ours in the hallway because, frankly, the rest of our apartment is still unorganized and chaotic.  (Little by little the boxes are unpacked!)  It will be the last first day of school I have.   Ever.  (leap of joy)
Pretty in pink.
A cardigan, of course!
I only had one class this afternoon – a three-hour pastoral care class in which I will learn to communicate nonviolently and take care of myself and others (because all of those go together).  In the midst of this three-hour class, I bet I heard comments start with, “When I was on internship -” or “Being a senior -” at least ten times.  That’s the kind of language I hated as a junior and middler.  But now it’s me.  That’s how I start sentences.  I’m a senior?  Whoa.  I’m a senior!  
… a wee bit of height difference.  She can reach the top shelves!

babies and blankets.

7 Sep
Remember this little guy born back at the end of January?  I made Gavin a quilt when he was born.   It was my first baby quilt, my second-ever completed quilt.  Gavin is the son of a Dancing Banana, the silly name for the closest of all close high school friends.  The Bananas and I have called ourselves that since our sophomore year of high school.  (The seven of us are still friends, stay in frequent contact and will buy anything banana-themed for one another.) Before that, we were the Oatmeal gang.  (It’s best if you don’t ask questions.)

I was tickled pink when Gavin came over with his daddy, Mat, of whom the baby boy is the splitting image.  Gavin came, roll-y thighs and all, with his baby quilt in tow.  So incredibly cute this eight-month old is – I didn’t want to put him down or hand him over to anyone else.  Gavin makes Lindsay feel maternal.  

My second-ever baby quilt was gifted to my cousin, Marissa, while I was home.  Marissa is due with her third child but first girl!  There is no baby yet.  Baby Girl Hanson is due to arrive on October 3rd.  I thought the pink might be a bit lacking in the hand-me-downs from Drew and Logan and I knew another baby quilt project would be fun to tackle.  
I had promised to show Karen this quilt before I left Dawson … and forgot.  Here it is for show-and-tell in photo form.  Know that it is soft, flannel and the backing is made from pink minky fabric (like this) … and that I’m short and unable to get the whole quilt in the picture.  But you get the point.  

hammock.

7 Sep
The view upward from the hammock.
The hammock was part of Molly and Lindsay’s day of fun.  Molly is in fifth grade now.  She’s my cousin.  And godchild.  And likes to poke my sides and tickle me under my chin so I make that back-of-the-throat disgusting noise.  I love her lots.
The day together began with Sprocket (my car) needing an oil change.  That was fun.  We waited in like with, like, eighty cars … according to Molly anyways.
We went to a rummage sale at my church.  Also fun.

We ate spinach salads.  Yum.

Decorated cake balls for the party that evening.  The cake balls were PERFECTION.  So perfectly dipped and delicately sprinkled.  They were pieces. of. art.

Then we found the hammock, two trees and cuddled up in the midst of the wind and chill.  This hammock was my bed for a week when I was on a mission trip to Mexico, mixing concrete and passing buckets of the wet goop to cover roofs on houses in the Yucatan.  The hammock is super comfy and super huge enough for many of us to pile into it.  (When I was in Mexico, it was large enough for me to wrap it around myself with some left over.  With stupid innocence to think it would save me from the geckos.  That covered the ceiling.  Every night.)  Molly’s older brother, Sam, came later and joined us in our hammock glory.

pieces of home.

6 Sep
I was in limbo for a week.  I finished in Dawson but wasn’t quite ready to begin classes.  After dropping off my belongings at my new apartment on the Luther Seminary campus, I trekked home for a week of relaxing and time with family and friends … AFTER I took Tuesday and Wednesday to write, proofread, and fret about my approval paper due for candidacy.  (As a senior at seminary, I go through the approval process, where the faculty along with representatives from my home synod must agree and approve me for ordained ministry.  Step one of approval: the dreaded 17-20 page essay.)  After the essay was complete and emailed to the proper people, this is what I enjoyed …
… This is the view and how I (and my short, stubby toes) sat each morning and some evenings, often with a bowl of cereal or a mug of coffee in hand.  A screened-in porch with comfy wicker furniture.  After spending a year in western Minnesota, I appreciate the trees and the rolling hills more than before.  (Though there is something to be said for the open sky as well.)
The view of the old farm where I grew up from my backyard.
… An evening of bananagrams with a few of my own bananas and some of the guys.  Lynn and Kyle added a dimension to the addicting game – instead of yelling,”Peel!” when appropriate, a word or phrase is assigned in its place.  “Frigidaire.”  “The man punted Baxter.”  “Marshmallow.”
… Brunch and a matinee performance of Hairspray at the Fireside Dinner Theater with the ladies – aunts, cousins, grandma, sister and mother.  Very enjoyable.
… Many Target runs with various people.
… An Edgerton High School visit to see an always favorite band director, a wonderful administrative assistant, and, of course, Aunt Peggy.
… A dual birthday part night for sister, Emma, who turned 18, and Grandma Julie.  The most perfect night to be outside for a campfire.  Cousin Sam likes his s’more.

gnome, gnome in Dawson.

6 Sep
To the tune of Home on the Range, this ditty was sung for me during coffee hour on my last Sunday.  I’m not sure who to credit as the author … ?  And not sure about the lawnmower verse?  Check out the link for the embarrassing explanation!

Home, home in Dawson
Where under bridges gnomes play
Where seldom is heard
A discouraging word
And the snow can blow all day.

Gnome, gnome in Dawson
Where Intern Lindsay’s at Grace
Where she’s learned a lot
And become a part
Of the work in God’s holy place.

Gnome, gnome in Dawson
Where Lindsay teaches the kids
They all have great fun
And when they are done
They’ve learned a lot about God.

Gnome, gnome in Dawson
Where a blind girl drives a lawnmower
She drives to the right
And my, what a sight!
She goes in circles some more.

Gnome, gnome in Dawson
It’s time for Lindsay to part
May you enjoy your next year
And with a big tear
We send you love from our heart.

One year ago –

6 Sep

Labor Day, a year ago, the beginning of my time in Dawson.

Last Sunday.

3 Sep
My last Sunday at Grace really was all things wonderful.  I preached my last sermon, was given many kind words, and honored in the best ways possible during coffee hour.  The do-day ladies, with whom I tied quilts every month, made me a quilt.  The congregation as a whole gave me generous gifts, many hugs, and much love as I was sent on my way.
Being honored during the worship service.  Coworkers Keith, Tammy, Emily and Karen in the background.  (Along with the top of Chris’ head.  And Kendall is probably the receiver of my surprised/are-you-kidding-me face.)

Coffee hour was in my honor and included my own gnome story, a song – sung to Home on the Range, and an ode to my time as an intern.  It was a roast in the kindest way possible.  In many ways, it made it even more difficult to leave because it was so wonderful and honoring.  It did however include the revealing of my high school weekend winter occupation … the stripping came up.  (And then I owed the fellowship hall an explanation of what kind of [tobacco] stripping my parents made me do as a child.)
After the congregation members had made their leave, I took the much-talked-about tour of the sanctuary attic.  Keith, the custodian, had been promising me such a field trip for months to visit the bats, but it hadn’t happened.  So, in my pointy Nine West heels, I climbed the ladder to the attic to say that I’d been there, done that, check.  (Pictures still to come.  I know you want to see the sanctuary attic just as much as I did!)  Then the staff and I stood in the main office, none of us quite willing to say the first goodbye.  
Keith was the first to make his leave, giving me a hug, and saying, 
“Goodbye, Sunshine.  
It’s been fun.” 
Slowly but surely, sadly and with tears, the rest of the hugs were given and goodbyes were said.  The staff have become close friends – family in many senses of the word.  
Sad day.

Almost a week later and at home in Edgerton, I still feel displaced (as my wise friend, Justin, calls it).  I’m still sad.  I cried pretty much all of Sunday afternoon, Monday and Tuesday.  I even treated myself to a bit of pity-shopping … which led to the addition of two new cardigans to my wardrobe.  (Opps?)  The added stress of needing to complete and send in my 20 page approval paper helped matters none.  But it will get better.  Time at home is good.  Feelings of displacement will wane.  Back to St.Paul on Monday.  Class on Tuesday.

But for now – I grieve.  I grieve the end of internship and the physical distance friendships and relationships.

Sad day.

My gnome story.

3 Sep

Another part of my send-off during coffee hour included the reading of my very own gnome story.  One should know that the gnomes in Gnome Park in Dawson each have their own story, their own tale about the type of gnome they are and the kind of activities they engage in as gnome people.  In my honor, Kendall wrote a gnome story for me.  I have my own gnome story! My life is now complete.  As the story was shared, I was dressed with a gnome shirt, a gnome cap and a heart on my sleeve.  The story is quite extensive but I will give you the highlights – the ways in which Kendall slyly and lovingly made kind fun of me, my dressing patterns, and creative outlets.  

(a half-page worth of super descriptive characteristics of Dawson and then – )  This is a story of a gnome that lived in this village for only a very short time.  It was the wind from the east that brought this new gnome to live in the village.  But this gnome came to this village on the long road that runs East and West with a very strange wheelbarrow that was loaded high with lots of boxes and books and baking things.  This wheelbarrow had a tag on its front and rear with the name of a place we barely mention in this village – Wisconsin.  The little gnome traveler was tired and weary after having many other adventures and she looked around this village; she stretched and yawned and stretched again and rubbed her eyes.  And she thought and she thought and she thought.  Then she stretched and yawned.  And yawned and stretched.  As she was thinking, she looked around this village and she saw many little people.  They were mingling in the grass near the swimming pool.  They stood so still and so quiet.  This weary and tired little gnome from all her adventures watched these little people and she thought, ‘This village will be just the place for me to stay for a while.  It will be still and it will be quiet.’  And so began the adventures of a new gnome who pushed her strange wheelbarrow piled high mostly with books, and boxes, and baking things with tags on the front and rear from a place that was barely mentioned in the little village.  Now, there are a few things you should know about this new gnome.  She was a very, very curious gnome.  She was not like any of the other gnomes you may have heard about.  First of all, she is young for a gnome – in people years, that is.  This gnome likes to travel about and have adventures because she is still learning about the world and she still has many things to see and things to discover.  Now it is also important to know that gnomes don’t own many things.  They usually give away whatever they have, and they either make or find whatever they have to give.  But this gnome needed a place to store the things that had been piled high – mostly books and boxes and baking things in her wheelbarrow with tags on the front and the rear with a place that was barely mentioned in this village.  So she found her very best gnome cap and set it straight on her head.  She found her nicest cardigan sweater and she set off walking to find a still and quiet place to be.
(the adventure continues with this gnome discovering a church where she plans a party and then prepares to leave after her short stay)
Now as all the villagers stood by the side of the long road that runs east and west from their village they waved goodbye to their new gnome friend. All will be well in this village because as the villagers raised their arms to offer their special gnome farewell, they all noticed that yes, the hearts on their own sleeves had gotten heavier.  But not only heavier, they noticed that the hearts that they wore on their sleeves were much, much, much larger than before this new gnome came into their village with her wheelbarrow with tags on the front and rear of a place that was rarely mentioned, piled high with mainly books, boxes, and baking things.  So they were thankful.  And all will be well, too, in the new adventures of this gnome who likes to travel about because she is still learning about the world and she still has things to see and things to discover.  Yes, all will be well.
And as the gnome preacher left them on that long road that runs east and west through their little village with her wheelbarrow with tags on the front and rear with the name of the place that is rarely mentioned, piled high with mostly books, and boxes, and baking things, all the villagers hoped that the heart the gnome preacher carried on her sleeve had grown larger as well because of their time together.
The end.
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