I’ll be speaking to the Skagit Unitarian-Universalist Fellowship on Mother’s Day via Zoom at 10:30. This will be the third time I’ve had the opportunity to be the speaker there – and it’s always such a joy for me! It’s like being in a comedy club. The SUUF folks know how to laugh.
Here’s the announcement in their newsletter: A Love Story for Mother’s Day Karen Molenaar Terrell returns to SUUF to share some of the memories and stories from a love-filled life with her mother, Colleen “Mozzy” Molenaar, who passed away in 2017 at the age of 89. As a visitor to SUUF that year, Colleen was so impressed with our church that she immediately declared that it was where she wanted her final memorial to be held… and it was, just months later. Her grandson, Casey, described her as “… a giving and goofy woman.” Today we’ll hear from Karen about this, her “great taste in shoes” and much more.
So here’s what I just chose to waste precious life-minutes doing: I looked up the most popular names for 1980 so’s I could make a meme for people with those names. My intent was to shame them and blame them for all the crap our poor world is dealing with right now. I thought I’d do my little part in making the world a better place by finding us all a Generation X scapegoat this time. (I figured it was GenX’s turn now.)
Here’s what I found: The most popular names for boys born in 1980 were Michael, Christopher, and Matthew. The most popular names for girls born in that year were Jessica, Jennifer, and Amanda.
And, when I saw those names come up, all my nefarious plans for name-shaming just melted away. I thought of all my students over the years with those names and I smiled at the happy memories. I thought of how my young friend, Amanda, stood next to me at the local BLM rally and chanted, “Black lives matter!” with me. I thought of my former student, Michael, who’s all grown-up now and lives across the road and volunteers his time and energy in keeping our neighborhood spruced up by planting trees along the street and giving us gravel to smooth out our driveways. I thought of my journalist friend, Matthew, who wrote such a nice story about my dad. I thought of my former student, Jessica, who always greets me with a cheery smile when we run into each other at the supermarket. And I thought of my friend, Jennifer, who I’d met while she was walking her sweet dog, Maya – a dog she’d rescued from euthanasia at a shelter.
And I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do the name-shaming game – even if it meant diverting attention from people named “Karen.”
Dear Balogna and Dicker, I wish you would stop – I wish you would stop perpetuating the “Karen” meme and the name-shaming. “Huffington Post” is supposed to be one of the “good guys” of the magazine world – a bastion of progressivism, fairness, justice, equity. You guys are supposed to stand up to the bullies – not be bullies yourselves. Yet, just when I think the meme has died out and I’m seeing headlines that refer to “racist woman” or “Tennessee woman” or “maskless woman” instead of “Karen” – “Huffington Post” will publish a story about “Karenting” or “anti-mask Karen.” And…I just don’t get it…what’s the point? How is that helping anyone or anything? I don’t see the Karen meme helping the LGBTQ, Asian, or Black communities. I don’t see it saving our environment or ending wars or helping our veterans, or lowering health care costs. I don’t see it helping women find equity, or see it promoting compassion for the elderly or mentally ill or vulnerable. I don’t see the Karen meme adding anything good to the world at all. It’s as helpful as talking about a “maskless Balogna” or an “anti-vax Dicker.”
In the last week I’ve had to notarize papers, and co-sign other papers, and call the IRS to verify the identity of my deceased 101 year-old father and talk to a bank manager about an ATM machine with a glitch – and, believe me, none of this was stuff I WANTED to do. In my personal experience, I’ve found myself talking to managers because I’ve had life-responsibilities that gave me no choice but to talk to managers. I’d rather have gone on some nice walks.
Today’s unexpected gift came by way of a recalcitrant ATM machine which spit out a message that I needed to contact my “financial institution.” The ATM happened to be attached to my “financial institution” – so I walked around the corner and got in line behind a truck at the drive-through.
Pretty soon a car pulled up in the drive-through lane next to me and I saw my friends, Phil and Courtney. I yelled across to them and pulled down my mask so that they could recognize the crazy lady standing in the lane next to them, waving at them. They smiled and waved back and we had a delightful conversation involving the opening of my son and his partner’s new scone shop, and the haircut and pink highlights their daughter is going to give me next week, and the food we were smelling from the restaurant across the street.
Then the truck ahead of me pulled away and I walked up to the teller. I explained what had happened with the ATM and she said, “You know, our lobby has been open since Easter. You don’t need to stand out there. Why don’t you come around into the bank and we’ll help you?”
I’d had no idea the lobby was open! It has been, like, a year since I’ve been in my bank! This was HUGE news! HUGE! I thanked the teller and turned around and waved good bye to Phil and Courtney, and to the people in the car behind me, too, while I was at it – and everyone waved back – then I walked around the corner and into the bank! Just like that!
And this is where I met my new friend, Kati. Like magic, she appeared from a side office, smiled at me through her mask, and asked me if I was the person who needed help with the ATM. Then she ushered me back to her office and invited me to take a seat while she sorted through the ATM confusion. While she was tapping on her keyboard I glanced around her office and saw a picture of Mount Baker. I made comment on it – it was a really beautiful photo – and she told me where the photo had been taken and said she really loved that picture, too. And then – because… every opportunity, right? – I told her I’d climbed to the top of that mountain with my dad. She thought that was pretty cool.
As Kati was working on her computer, music was playing in the background. A song came on that reminded her of “Caddyshack” and that led to a fun conversation about Chevy Chase movies.
She said she’d go out to the ATM with me now to see if the problem had been fixed. I said, “I feel like I’m on a mission from God – like The Blues Brothers.” And Kati laughed and agreed that “The Blues Brothers” was another great movie!
The ATM wasn’t fixed.
So we went back inside. Kati clicked away some more on another computer, and found a way to fix the problem – it turned out to be an error within the ATM. We went back out to test the ATM and this time it worked! Whoo hoot!
I’m so grateful that the ATM was recalcitrant this morning – look at all the fun it brought me!
“To those leaning on the sustaining infinite, to-day is big with blessings.” -Mary Baker Eddy
The more I think about that delightful phone conversation with the IRS lady yesterday, the more I appreciate the magic of it. (See yesterday’s blog post.) I mean… here’s this thing I’m dreading – one more task I have to take care of. One last thing I need to do to take care of Dad’s business – and I thought I’d already done the last thing when I’d had his 2020 tax return sent it. I’d heaved a huge sigh of relief that I was finally done with my duties. After four years of paperwork, of forms, calls to hospice and doctors, Veterans Administration people and financial institutions – that last tax return felt, to me, like I’d finally crossed the finish line and finished the marathon. And then to get that letter from the IRS, telling me that now I had to verify his identity for that 2020 tax return… it felt like it was just too much, you know?
But it ended up being this incredible gift to me! A gift from Dad. A gift from Love, God. I’d needed this. This was the EXACT thing I’d needed yesterday. But it was the LAST thing I thought I needed. I was feeling sick from the vaccine, frustrated by life-stuff, and cranky. And Love gave me this gift that forced me to go a different direction – that forced me to draw close to Love and allowed me to meet a new friend.
“The very circumstance, which your suffering sense deems wrathful and afflictive, Love can make an angel entertained unawares.” -Mary Baker Eddy
Excerpt from Scrapbook of a Year and a Day: January 19, 2020 to January 20, 2021:September 17, 2020 : Here’s what I need tonight – I need to remind myself that we can’t always see how things will work themselves out – and sometimes salvation comes in completely unexpected ways. I need to remind myself of the amazing things that I’ve witnessed and experienced in the last several years during times when I saw no solution and things looked pretty bleak.
Back in February 2017 I found myself in a position that seemed impossible. Mom was in the hospital with congestive heart failure and Dad soon followed her there with a UTI. They were on two different floors, both struggling to stay alive. I’d visit one and then the other – and then go home, on high alert, waiting for the phone to ring and for someone to drop some new crisis onto me.
Just two days before Mom was going to be released from the hospital into hospice care, a hospital social worker told me that it looked like the assisted living care facility wasn’t going to accept Mom back into her and Dad’s home because of her medical issues. I told the social worker that the assisted living place hadn’t told me anything about this, and surely they would have let me know, right? But she seemed pretty sure about this. So I called the assisted living place on Saturday and was told that Mom was going to be evaluated on Monday morning to determine if she could be brought back to her home. Which. Hospice needed to set things up for her – and they needed to know right then where they should send the equipment. I needed answers immediately. Finally, the assisted living lady told me (under her breath) that if she was me she’d be looking for another place for my mother and father.
I had two days to find a new home for my parents.
In a panic, I started calling other assisted living places and soon realized that the cost of the care my parents were going to need in the facilities would clean out their savings in a couple months. I thought maybe I could use my retirement savings to help them – but that wouldn’t last too long, either. And – honestly, I didn’t want to send my parents to some strange, unfamiliar place that looked like an institution. The thought came to me, then, that I should bring Mom and Dad into my home when they were released from the hospital, and provide the care myself. Scotty agreed to this plan and agreed to help. (I married an incredible man.)
I was still teaching full-time then – so this was going to be tricky.But I told the social workers at the hospital that I wanted Mom brought to my home when she was released on Monday. She asked me if I was sure – I think she was concerned about me – but I told her yes. It felt right. Hospice got in touch with me – bless them! – and, when Mom was brought by ambulance to our home, a hospice nurse came over and showed Scott and I how to care for her.
I’m so very glad Love guided me to make this decision for Moz. I’m so glad she was brought to our home, surrounded by our love. We spent the whole day telling each other how much we loved each other – and in the wee hours of the morning, while I dozed on the couch next to her hospital bed, she passed. I felt myself brushed by joy and peace and love, and woke to find she was gone.
So now I had to find a home for Dad – I’d promised Moz that she didn’t need to worry about him – that we’d make sure he was alright. Originally the plan had been to bring Dad into our home where he could be with Mom – but, now that she was gone, our home wouldn’t be the right place for him. He needed the kind of care that someone with skills greater than my own could give him. The social worker asked us if we’d ever looked into adult family homes, and gave us a booklet with names and phone numbers.
When I got home from the hospital after my visit with Dad and the social worker, I went for a walk – at this point I was completely emotionally and mentally stretched – feeling out of my depth and scared about the future – and I needed to find some peace for myself. And suddenly a rainbow arched across the sky – and it felt like a promise! – like Moz was there with me, reassuring me, telling me everything was going to be alright. I began making phone calls to adult family homes – and on the second call I felt I’d found the right place. My brother and I went over to check it out – there were bird feeders in the front yard, and cats and dogs – and I knew the woman who answered the door would have been someone Moz would have felt an instant kinship with. AND the cost of care for Dad would fit his budget!
I felt like a weight was lifted from my shoulders. We had found Dad’s new home – a place I didn’t even know existed a day before!
Some powerful (and really unexpected) magic happened today.
I woke up feeling unwell. Yesterday I’d had my second Pfizer vaccine and it had hit me hard. I did not feel on top of my game. I drove to the post office to mail off a package and to pick up my mail from the post office box. There was a letter from the IRS in there – telling me I needed to verify my deceased father’s identity (he’d died in January, 2020, at the age of 101).
The last couple of weeks have been crazy with paperwork: Papers to notarize; papers to co-sign; papers to attest to this and papers to attest to that. So when I got this letter from the IRS, I felt my heart sink. I wasn’t sure I could handle even one more piece of paperwork. And, because of the vaccine, I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to take that on today, anyway. But I figured I’d give it a try and see how far I could go.
I tried going to the website the letter told me to go to – but in order to verify Dad’s identity there I’d have to provide numbers for his credit cards/mortgage/student loans/etc. – and… Dad is dead. He doesn’t have any of that stuff anymore. So I called the number that was given on the letter. The first time I called I was told to try again later – maybe tomorrow – because the IRS is really busy. But when I gave it a chance and called again half an hour later, I was given the option to put my phone number on a waiting list and was told the IRS would call ME back in half an hour.
I used that half hour to prepare – not just gather all the tax stuff I was going to need for the phone call, but to prepare myself with prayer, too. I made a choice. I was going to see this phone call as an opportunity to make a new friend – to connect with another someone who was calling to help me. I would be cheerful. I would be friendly. I would be kind. I would be grateful. I would find healing.
When my phone rang and I answered it I heard a voice on the other end that was warm and rich and a little southern – she sounded kind of like Viola Davis. I explained my problem to the IRS lady and, as she asked me questions, we began to share laughter with each other. She asked me my Dad’s birthdate and when I told her Dad was born in 1918 and said, “Isn’t that crazy?!” – she laughed and agreed that it WAS crazy. She asked me my name and I said, “Well…ummm…this is not a good time to have my name, but I’m Karen.” She started laughing and told me she was sure I wasn’t THAT kind of “Karen,” and when I assured her that I wasn’t that kind of “Karen” – that I actually have marched in a BLM rally – she thanked me for doing that. When we’d started our conversation it hadn’t sounded like I’d be able to verify Dad’s identity right then – that I’d maybe need to fill out other forms first – but by the time we’d ended our conversation the IRS lady had led me through the verification process and I was done! I told the IRS lady that she had been “delightful” and thanked her so much for all her help. “God bless you!” I said.
She said, “God bless you, too!”
Isn’t that lovely?!
I have no idea what this woman’s name is or where she lives or what she looks like – but I felt the love coming through the phone today, and I felt like I’d met a new friend.
And after I hung up the phone I realized that I was feeling much better physically, too. Love heals.
So I’m lying in bed this morning and I realize I have a choice – I don’t HAVE to get out of bed today.
If I get out of bed there are sure to be problems and complications. I am almost guaranteed to make SOMEbody angry today. I am pretty much guaranteed to say the wrong thing to someone at the wrong time in the wrong place in the wrong way. I may get in someone’s way. Someone may get in MY way. I may lose my temper today. I may be thoughtless and unkind. I may die if I get out of bed.
On the other hand, I may die if I stay in my bed, too. I may miss out on a chance to be thoughtful and kind. I may miss an opportunity to learn something new and to laugh, and meet a new friend, and see an eagle soar, and enjoy the sunshine on my face.
It takes courage to get out of bed each day.
To all the courageous people who dare to get out bed and face whatever comes between now and tomorrow – I wish you all the wonder and magic you find today because you got out of bed. -Karen Molenaar Terrell
Last night: Went outside and took a walk around the house and let the twilight wrap itself around me. Listened to the frogsong, and birds chirping to each other. Breathed in the cool evening air, filled with the scents of apple blossom and just-mowed grass and damp earth. And a flood of memories rushed into my thoughts: sitting outside with Dad when I was a little girl, looking at the stars and watching for satellites; Camping out at Mount Rainier – the family sitting around the campfire while Dad played his accordion. Family trips into the Canadian Rockies. And I felt Dad with me, right now, looking at the evening sky with me. Always with me.
(Photo of a Skagit County, Washington, sunset by Karen Molenaar Terrell.)
My husband and I visited Tulip Town (Mount Vernon, Washington) on Thursday. The tulips aren’t quite in full bloom, yet – but it was a sunny, blue-sky day; everyone was friendly and full of good humor; and get this – I asked a random person to take our photo and he turned out to be a professional portrait photographer! Can I pick ’em or can I pick ’em?! I’ll attach his photo of us at the bottom with a photo credit for him – he did a great job!
Here are some of the photos I brought back back from Tulip Town. (Photos by Karen Molenaar Terrell.)
Below: Photo of Karen Molenaar Terrell and Scott Terrell by professional photographer, Bob Wachtendonk, of North Bend, Washington.
National Wildlife Federation is hosting a photo contest and I’ve entered five of my photos in it. True to form, I got ’em in just under the wire yesterday. If you would like to vote for any of these submissions (hint, hint), here are the links:
Adventures of the Madcap Christian Scientist 