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About Karen Molenaar Terrell

Karen's stories have appeared in *Newsweek*, *The Christian Science Monitor*, and *Pack and Paddle Magazine* and she's the author of *Are You Taking Me Home Now?: Adventures with Dad*, *The Second Hundred Years: Further Adventures with Dad*, *The Brush of Angel Wings*, *The Madcap Christian Scientist* series, *A Poem Sits on my Windowsill*, *Finding the Rainbows: Lessons from Dad and Mom*, and co-author of *The Humoristian Chronicles: A Most Unusual Fellowship*. Her photos are featured in the spring 2014 edition of the *Bellingham Review*, and the "Photos from the Field" page of the April/May 2017, December/January 2018-2019, April/May 2019, and June/July 2020 issues of of *Mother Earth News*. Her photos can be found here: https://www.flickr.com/photos/60803140@N06/ Her books can be found here: http://www.amazon.com/Karen-Molenaar-Terrell/e/B0044P90RQ/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1312060042&sr=8-

Who has time for death?

“Hold thought steadfastly to the enduring, the good, and the true, and you will bring these into your experience proportionately to their occupancy of your thoughts.”
– Mary Baker Eddy

I woke up this morning feeling melancholy. Thinking about death. Steeped in gloom. Full of fear. I’ve lost a lot of people dear to me this year – and some of them have not been much older than me. Some of them have been younger. And all of that led my thoughts down a dark and dreary road as I woke to a new day – pondering the how, why, when, and where of my own demise.

***

I asked my husband what he was planning to do today and he mentioned some work he needed to do in his orchard. That reminded me that I had been hoping to dig up some crocosmia bulbs that aren’t getting enough sunshine in my Secret Garden, and transfer them to the front yard. So I grabbed a shovel and headed back to the garden. Spent some time rooting around for the bulbs and re-planted them in the front of the house. But while I’d been back in the Secret Garden I’d discovered blackberry vines trying to take over back there. And my butterfly bush and climbing rose needed some pruning. And the clematis and grape vines had gotten completely out of control. Accordingly, I fetched some pruning shears and the wheelbarrow and went back, again, to my garden to try to bring some order to the chaos.

I spent a good part of the day working outside in the fresh air, in the dirt and among the living things – digging, pruning, loading stuff up in the wheelbarrow to add to our brush pile. And while I was working I didn’t think about death for even one moment. I was on a mission. I had purpose. I had before me the vision of what the crocosmia were going to look like when they bloomed, and the hummingbirds that would be attracted to them, and the roses that would bloom on the climbing rose bush, and the butterflies that would flit among the butterfly bush branches come spring.

***

As the sun started setting, I headed out to the local supermarket to get fixings for dinner. And look what was waiting for me!

bow barn frozen pond sunset 3 this one

Now I ask you – who has time to think about death when there’s so much of Life that invites our attention?

I’ve decided my job right now is to live. I want to be where the living people are.

“Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.”
– Philippians 4:8

 

 

Ode to Boxing Day

Ode to Boxing Day

It’s a humble holiday, tucked in between
Christmas and New Year’s, but it’s really keen.
Things look a little bedraggled, it’s true
The tree’s a little droopy and no longer new

The movies and music of the Christmas season
Are getting on our nerves now, and we’re seeing no reason
To eat even one more sugary oversweet sweet
It’s time for broccoli and carrots (maybe hold on the beets)

The pressure for perfection comes off on this day,
the toys have been opened, and it’s come time to play.
And if before we were wearing faux holiday cheer
to blend in with the others and not Scroogey appear

It’s time now to be genuine, and honest and real.
The food banks are empty, people still need a warm meal.
The homeless and hungry and jobless and alone
still need love and care, still need a home.

So maybe we can celebrate the day after Christmas
by keeping the spirit of hope alive,
we might make that our business.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell, from A Poem Lives on My Windowsill

 

Christmas: All Things New

“…Behold, I make all things new.”
– II Corinthians 5

I wasn’t sure what this Christmas would be like for us. Moz is gone now. Dad has been in and out of hospice twice since her passing. A lot of people who were dear to me are no longer here. It has been a challenging year. I wondered if we might feel holes in our Christmas. But this weekend has been precious.

Scotty, the sons, my youngest brother, niece, nephew, and special friends, Sierra and Michael, came together for caroling through the neighborhood, a rousing game of “spoons” around the kitchen table, some improv in the family room, brunch at Skylark’s, a walk along the boardwalk in Bellingham, and precious time with Dad. There were moments when I laughed so hard I had tears running down my face. There were tender moments that filled my heart. It was magic!

I think losing so many dear ones this year has made me appreciate all the more the time we have to spend with those we love.

Snippets –
(On our neighborhood caroling adventure)
Oldest son: I think we totally crushed Joy to the World. We nailed that one, don’t you think?

Dad to youngest son: Are you still running?
Youngest son: Yeah (nods his head and gives the thumbs up).
Dad to youngest son: This is beautiful country. Do you like living in the desert?
Youngest son: (none of us are in the desert, but Xander doesn’t miss a beat…) Yes. (And he gives the thumbs up.)

After I’ve taken Dad back to his home.
Karen: Merry Christmas, Daddy!
Dad: Thank you, sweetie! (Dad hasn’t called me “sweetie” for a long time and his use of the term really touches me.)
Karen: Good bye.
Dad: Good bye.
Karen: I love you.
Dad: I love you!

Merry Christmas, my friends!
Karen

“Each successive stage of experience unfolds new views of divine goodness and love.”
– Mary Baker Eddy

Wishing You and Yours…

Image

Christmas doodle 3

Baby Jesus Lies in a Manger in the Ford Car Showroom

Karen Molenaar Terrell's avatarhumoristianity

So yesterday I take my car in for an oil change at the local Ford dealership. The air is really bad in the waiting area – it has the same smell as rubber glue. It takes an hour and a half for them to accomplish the oil change. At some point – wanting to get away from the bad air – I wander onto the sales floor. You probably all can imagine what this looks like – shiny new cars, shiny floors, shiny windows. And in the middle of all this is a huge nativity scene. It’s unexpected and takes me off guard. I stop and look it over – trying to make sense of a nativity scene in the middle of all these shiny new cars. It does not compute. And there’s Mary and Joseph and the wise guys kneeling next to Baby Jesus. And Jesus has a…

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Phone Call to Nona

Nona was one of Moz’s dear friends. I hadn’t talked to her since shortly after Moz passed last February. I don’t remember much of what was said in our conversation anymore – another blur in a month of blurs. But this week, as I was working on Christmas cards, Nona entered my thoughts. I knew I needed to send her a card. She’d moved recently, and I didn’t have her current address, but I knew that Moz had talked to Nona not long before she passed on, and figured I could probably find Nona’s phone number in Moz’s address book. And sure enough – there it was!

I called. I guess I was half-expecting to hear the fragile, quavery voice of an elderly lady on the other end of the line, but when Nona answered the phone it was in the same voice I remembered from 40 years ago – strong and healthy and joyful.

“Hi, Nona – this is Colleen’s daughter, Karen…” I began. And she knew immediately who i was and seemed really happy to hear from me.

We talked about Moz, and Nona asked about my 99 year-old Dad. I told her that he’d been in and out of hospice twice now. He’d recovered from a UTI and been taken off hospice, then gotten a blood clot that I was told would kill him within a matter of months and put back on hospice. The blood clot had dissolved and disappeared on its own, and he was taken off hospice. Then he’d developed cellulitis and pneumonia. And had recovered from those things. I’d told my sons they were probably going to inherit Dad someday. The older son had said that we would just pass him on from generation to generation like an heirloom. Nona got a kick out of that. She said Dad is just like that Energizer Bunny. And I agreed.

Nona told me a little about her new home – and how she was led to find it not long after her husband died, and how beautifully everything had unfolded for her.

It was so good to hear her voice again – so good to hear the strong joyful voice of one of Moz’s contemporaries. There was something kind of fortifying and reassuring about it, you know? It was nice to be of the “younger generation” for just a few minutes.

And when we finally hung up I started sobbing.

No. I’m not sure why.

Maybe it’s because I didn’t want to have to go back to being the grown-up.

 

When the Traffic Lights Don’t Work (and we don’t have a leader)

The power was out yesterday and some of the traffic lights weren’t working. But something really cool happened: At each traffic light I witnessed people being courteous to each other, taking turns, allowing those cars stuck on side streets to come into the flow. At one point the driver of the car to the left of me stopped to allow a car on a side street to enter traffic. In order for the car on the side street to enter, I had to stop, too, though – we all had to work together to help the car on the side street get into the flow.  There was no one directing traffic – no one standing in the intersection telling us when to go. But somehow we managed to take care of each other. 

And that’s what America looks like to me right now, too. We don’t have anyone directing traffic. We don’t have a leader who’s trying to help the people on the side streets get into the flow. We don’t have a leader who’s telling us when to stop, and showing us how to take turns and behave ourselves. We’re having to do that for ourselves.

What an incredible opportunity to find out who we are as human beings.

And Now for Your Listening Pleasure (or listening SOMEthing)…

So about four years ago a friend suggested to me that I check out this karaoke site – Singsnap. Kind of cool site. I didn’t spend a lot of time on there – I was only on there a few months – but I quickly recorded and stockpiled some of my favorite Christmas carols before I left.

So if you’re in the mood for some Christmas tunes today – here you go. 🙂
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
Silent Night
The First Noel
What Child Is This?
The Christmas Song

Merry Christmas!
Karen

(Wintery photos by Karen Molenaar Terrell)

This Is the Day that Joy Hath made

My dear Humoristian hooligans –

This is the day that joy hath made. Look for it. Spread it. May it over-flow from your hooligan hearts and fill up the dark, empty places in the streets and alleys, homes and work places, legislative and executive and judicial bodies of our world. May your integrity and honesty transform the scammers, schemers, scrooges, and skullduggerers. May your kindness and patience be a balm to those caught up in the frantic, frenetic, frenzied fabrications of the seasonal festivities. May you leave a smile, an unburdened heart, and hope in your wake. Go out there and work your magic!

This is the day that Love hath made. 
Amen.
Karen

love-hath-made

Waiting for the Christmas Spirit

Waiting for the Christmas Spirit

The kitsch and spangles
and baubles and bangles,
And department store Santa,
just really can’ta
Seem to bring me
the spirit of Christmas.

And I’ve been waiting to feel it –
the real Christmas spirit
Hoping it’d come by now.
The stockings are stuffed,
the tree is all buffed,
The cookies are baked
and frosted and fluffed
But there’s still something missing –
a feeling, a tingling
that’s supposed to come every Christmas.

Except…
Maybe that Christmas feeling,
that energy and tingling
Is something I can have every day –
It doesn’t depend on spangles,
or jingly-bell jangles
Or jolly men dressed all in red.
It comes in the sharing
of laughter and caring
And the comfort in words with love said:
To all – Peace! Joy! Hope!
Every moment of every day.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell, from The Madcap Christian Scientist’s Christmas Book

christmas tree 2015