I felt impelled to get out of the house and go for a drive. I ended up at the Bellingham mall with the vague idea that I might go Christmas shopping.
As I headed into Macy’s a young woman approached me – she looked scared. She said her baby was locked in the car with her keys and she asked me if I could let security know. I went into Macy’s and let the customer service people know the situation. They needed to know the model of the car and where it was parked, so I went back out and asked the young mother if I could watch her car and baby while she went inside to talk to the customer service people. She thanked me and I took up my post by her car.
When I looked in the window I saw her baby was crying – so I said, “Hi Sweetie! I’m right here with you!” and she started giggling then and smiling at me. There was a little toy suction cupped to the window and the baby reached up and started playing with the toy – like she was playing with me – and we spent the next minute or so laughing at her toy together.
The baby’s mom came out then, and pretty soon folks in uniforms joined her at her car to help her.
And the thought occurred to me that maybe that was the whole reason I’d felt like I’d needed to drive and ended up at the mall – I hardly ever go there, and it was weird for me to decide to go there today.
I bought a red vest and a new pair of jeans and then started my drive home.
And the clouds and the rain and the gray evening light enveloped me in a peaceful bubble. I’d put in a CD of hymns sung by a pair of young brothers with a youthful energy, and as I listened to the hymns I thought of my mom and remembered all the times she’d sung those hymns to me. I could feel her love with me. As I drove through the Chuckanut Hills, I thought of the hikes I’d taken with Dad and felt his love, too. And then I remembered driving this same route when I was bringing the sons home from swimming lessons when they were preschoolers and I could almost hear them laughing with each other in the back seat. It seemed a lifetime ago, and just like yesterday.
“He leadeth me, O blessed thought! O words with heav’nly comfort fraught…” And suddenly I felt myself connected to all the other people in the cars moving with me on I-5. And for a moment our kinship with each other was so clear to me. I felt us all moving together in a cosmic murmuration. Normally I try to exit onto the backroads, but I found myself passing the exit I might normally haven taken and I realized I WANTED to be with the other folks on I-5.
My drive home was other-worldly and beautiful. -Karen Molenaar Terrell
T’was two weeks afore Christmas and all through Eff Bee not a creature was stirring – not a they, she, or he. We were prostrate and spent from the holiday bustle not a twitch could be seen from the teeniest muscle.
We lay all unblinking in our respective beds while visions of gift-wrapping swirled through our heads. And clad in our jammies and our way cool madcaps we had the vague hopeful hope our bodies would take naps.
Holiday jangles and jingles pinged through our brains – Presley, Crosby, and Mathis taking us down memory lanes – and would we remember every member to be gifted? We mentally went through our lists, hoping none were omitted.
There were homes to be decorated and cards to be sent; parties, caroling, and cookie-making, and we hadn’t made a dent. But with a collective sigh we remembered there and then that it’s really about good will to all creatures – every they, her, and him.
And so our thoughts finally settled and our bodies relaxed as we thought of those we love and a world festooned in pax. With our hearts wrapped in kindness and the world as our ‘hood We’re all brethren and sistren – and verily, It’s all good! – Karen Molenaar Terrell, The Madcap Christian Scientist’s Christmas Book
Christmas Eve, 1988. I was in a funk. I couldn’t see that I was making much progress in my life. My teaching career seemed to be frozen, and I was beginning to think my husband and I would never own our own home or have children. The world seemed a very bleak and unhappy place to me. No matter how many batches of fudge I whipped up or how many times I heard Bing Crosby sing “White Christmas,” I couldn’t seem to find the Christmas spirit.
I was washing the breakfast dishes, thinking my unhappy thoughts, when I heard gunshots coming from the pasture behind our house. I thought it was the neighbor boys shooting at the seagulls again and, all full of teacherly harrumph, decided to take it upon myself to go out and “have a word with them.”
But after I’d marched outside I realized that it wasn’t the neighbor boys at all. John, the dairy farmer who lived on the adjoining property, was walking away with a rifle, and an animal (a calf, I thought) was struggling to get up in the field behind our house. Every time it would push up on its legs it would immediately collapse back to the ground.
I wondered if maybe John had made a mistake and accidentally shot the animal, so I ran out to investigate and found that the animal was a dog. It had foam and blood around its muzzle. She was vulnerable and helpless – had just been shot, after all – but instead of lashing out at me or growling as I’d expect an injured animal to do, she was looking up at me with an expression of trust and seemed to be expecting me to take care of her.
“John!” I yelled, running after the farmer. He turned around, surprised to see me. “John, what happened?” I asked, pointing back towards the dog.
A look of remorse came into his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry you saw that, Karen. The dog is a stray and it’s been chasing my cows. I had to kill it.”
“But John, it’s not dead yet.”
John looked back at the dog and grimaced. “Oh man,” he said. “I’m really sorry. I’ll go finish the job. Put it out of its misery.”
By this time another dog had joined the dog that had been shot. It was running around its friend, barking encouragement, trying to get its buddy to rise up and escape. The sight of the one dog trying to help his comrade broke my heart. I made a quick decision. “Let me and my husband take care of it.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded and he agreed to let me do what I could for the animal.
Unbeknownst to me, as soon as I ran out of the house my husband, knowing that something was wrong, had gotten out his binoculars and was watching my progress in the field. He saw the look on my face as I ran back. By the time I reached our house he was ready to do whatever he needed to do to help me. I explained the situation to him, we put together a box full of towels, and he called the vet.
As we drove his truck around to where the dog lay in the field, I noticed that, while the dog’s canine companion had finally left the scene (never to be seen again), John had gone to the dog and was kneeling down next to her. He was petting her, using soothing words to comfort her, and the dog was looking up at John with that look of trust she’d given me. John helped my husband load her in the back of the truck and we began our drive to the vet’s.
I rode in the back of the truck with the dog as my husband drove, and sang hymns to her. As I sang words from one of my favorite hymns from the Christian Science Hymnal– “Everlasting arms of Love are beneathe, around, above” – the dog leaned against my shoulder and looked up at me with an expression of pure love in her blue eyes.
Once we reached the animal clinic, the veterinarian came out to take a look at her. After checking her over he told us that apparently a bullet had gone through her head, that he’d take care of her over the holiday weekend – keep her warm and hydrated – but that he wasn’t going to give her any medical treatment. I got the distinct impression that he didn’t think the dog was going to make it.
My husband and I went to my parents’ home for the Christmas weekend, both of us praying that the dog would still be alive when we returned. For me, praying for her really meant trying to see the dog as God sees her. I tried to realize the wholeness and completeness of her as an expression of God, an idea of God. I reasoned that all the dog could experience was the goodness of God – all she could feel is what Love feels, all she could know is what Truth knows, all she could be is the perfect reflection of God. I tried to recognize the reality of these things for me, too, and for all of God’s creation.
She made it through the weekend, but when we went to pick her up the vet told us that she wasn’t “out of the woods, yet.” He told us that if she couldn’t eat, drink, or walk on her own in the next few days, we’d need to bring her back and he’d need to put her to sleep.
We brought her home and put her in a big box in our living room, with a bowl of water and soft dog food by her side. I continued to pray. In the middle of the night I got up and went out to where she lay in her box. Impulsively, I bent down and scooped some water from the dish into her mouth. She swallowed it, and then leaned over and drank a little from the bowl. I was elated! Inspired by her reaction to the water, I bent over and grabbed a glob of dog food and threw a little onto her tongue. She smacked her mouth together, swallowed the food, and leaned over to eat a bit more. Now I was beyond elated! She’d accomplished two of the three requirements the vet had made for her!
The next day I took her out for a walk. She’d take a few steps and then lean against me. Then she’d take a few more steps and lean. But she was walking! We would not be taking her back to the veterinarian.
In the next two weeks her progress was amazing. By the end of that period she was not only walking, but running and jumping and chasing balls. Her appetite was healthy. She was having no problems drinking or eating.
But one of the most amazing parts of this whole Christmas blessing was the relationship that developed between this dog and the man who had shot her. They became good friends. The dog, in fact, became the neighborhood mascot. (And she never again chased anyone’s cows.)
What the dog brought to me, who had, if you recall, been in a deep funk when she entered our lives, was a sense of the true spirit of Christmas – the Christly spirit of forgiveness, hope, faith, love. She brought me the recognition that nothing, absolutely nothing, is impossible to God.
We named our new dog Christmas because that is what she brought us that year.
Within a few years all those things that I had wondered if I would ever have as part of my life came to me – a teaching job, children, and a home of our own. It is my belief that our Christmas Dog prepared my heart to be ready for all of those things to enter my life.
You are worthy of love. You are worthy of healing. You are God’s beautiful child, the expression of Her Be-ing. You don’t need to wait until something in you changes. Healing is yours right now – no need to turn any more pages. -Karen Molenaar Terrell
This morning I woke up with this verse in my head: “He will perfect that which concerneth thee.” I’m pretty sure I was giving myself a Christian Science treatment in my sleep. 😀
I wake enfolded in divine Love’s arms. Loved, cherished, protected, safe – a perfect and complete note in Her song. Father-Mother Creator unfolds the beauty and harmony of Her symphony – note-perfect since before time, and forever and ever. Amen. And everything that has to do with me, and everything that’s concerning to me, is perfected, evolving fearlessly, flawlessly, ideally. -Karen Molenaar Terrell
T’was four weeks afore Christmas and it was once again time for shamelessly plugging my goods in a rhyme. There were books about Dad, and madcap books for you, books of celebration, and books of poetry, too.
I wrote two books about the drives and adventures I had with my centenarian father, Dee Molenaar, a well-known mountaineer and artist. Are You Taking Me Home Now? Adventures with Dad, and The Second Hundred Years: Further Adventures with Dad can be purchased on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and through any of your favorite bookstores. The books have five stars on Amazon. In her Amazon review, Heidi writes: “This is a delightful book and Karen is a gifted writer. She lets us listen in to the conversations she and her 100 year old Dad have on their car trips, which had me laughing and crying. Interspersed are memories of earlier times. Having a relationship with an older person whose body and brain don’t work as well as it used to requires patience, humor and love. As someone else here said, ‘Karen shows us how to do it right.’ I enjoyed reading this very much. I highly recommend this book and will be giving it out for gifts.”
My Cosmic Celebration series includes two books: Cosmic Connections: Sharing the Joy and Cosmic Kinship: Celebrating Community. These books can be purchased on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and through your favorite bookstore. They currently have five stars on Amazon. C Meares writes: “Cosmic Connections follows the excursions of an extraverted author and photographer who befriends nearly every person who crosses her path. This uplifting read highlights life’s small moments of connection — with strangers, old friends she meets by chance, the hapless, friendly dogs and former students. The author uses brief anecdotes—one or two pages—to show how much goodness permeates life. One entry describes meeting a stranger, only to find out she is the daughter of the minister who married her and her husband (in another part of the state) 30 years before. Her warm writing style and enthusiasm for life is infectious.”
In 2005, I published my first book, Blessings: Adventures of a Madcap Christian Scientist. It currently has 4.5 stars and 45 ratings on Amazon. VoIP – Dragon User writes: “OK, after reading the reviews, I thought this might make a nice Christmas present for a friend. When it arrived I decided to ‘peek’ at a few pages, but couldn’t put it down. I finished reading it in one sitting. But how to review the book is a challenge. It leaves you with such a joyful uplifted feeling and one of appreciation and relevance. At first I found myself saying, ‘I want to know this woman’ and after I finished the book I felt I did.
“Karen brings very positive reinforcement into the reader’s experience and the easy flowing style just melts in your mouth like comfort food. I found dozens of instances where I saw a parallel in my own life, that were entertaining and inspirational in a down to earth sort of way.
“I’m wearing a smile having read this and can’t think of a better way to pass an evening than this quick roller-coaster ride through another’s eyes of refreshing gratitude.
“It touched my heart and soul. Highly recommended.”
There’s also a fifth book related to the series called The Madcap Christian Scientist’s Christmas book. In his review for The Madcap Christian Scientist’s Christmas Book, Jeff Chase writes: “It’s my second Christmas with this book, and I think I’m enjoying it more this year, perhaps because it’s already feeling like a tradition. Karen’s stories, poems, and musings are full of warmth, humor, and love. There’s much to relate to here. I find myself recalling my own Christmas stories from years past. This book is a gem, made for relaxing. Enjoy!”
These Madcap Christian Scientist books can be purchased on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and your favorite bookstore.
I have three books of poetry: A Poem Lives on My Windowsill, The Brush of Angel Wings, and Since Then. These books can all be purchased on Amazon, and through your favorite bookstore. In her Amazon review of The Brush of Angel Wings, Nikki writes: “The author of “The Brush of Angel Wings” never fails to disappoint me. The poetry in her latest book causes a wide range of emotions in the reader, from joy to sadness, happiness to grief, humor to acceptance. Every poem is unique, yet the author’s distinct style can be found in each one. I enjoyed seeing glimpses of the author’s life through her poetry. I can’t wait for her next book to be released.”
“Karen Molenaar Terrell’s Scrapbook of a Year and a Day is, essentially, a compilation of Facebook posts written between January 19, 2020 and January 20, 2021. If I were to collect my FB posts, it would be very, very dull indeed, but Karen eliminated the silly cat videos, if she ever posted any, and has instead put together a moving and coherent account of the tumultuous year we all lived through and her personal experience of the year following the death of her father, Dee Molenaar. What I particularly love about Karen–and this book–is her perspective on things and her constant striving to live up to her ideals.
“I’m really not a dog-earrer–I find it a vile habit–and yet I folded down the corners on several pages.”
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Thank you for letting me shamelessly plug here. It brings me such joy to connect with others through my writing. – Karen Molenaar Terrell
Head, foot, and elbow shoulder, hand, and big toe, right, left, and center, every race, nationality, and gender – all part of the same Body, the same planet, the same universe – there’s no last and no first, no best and no worst. We are One in One. -Karen Molenaar Terrell
“One infinite God, good, unifies men and nations; constitutes the brotherhood of man; ends wars; fulfils the Scripture, ‘Love thy neighbor as thyself;’ annihilates pagan and Christian idolatry, — whatever is wrong in social, civil, criminal, political, and religious codes; equalizes the sexes; annuls the curse on man, and leaves nothing that can sin, suffer, be punished or destroyed.“ -Mary Baker Eddy
“For the body is not one member, but many. If the foot shall say, Because I am not the hand, I am not of the body; is it therefore not of the body? And if the ear shall say, Because I am not the eye, I am not of the body; is it therefore not of the body? If the whole body were an eye, where were the hearing? If the whole were hearing, where were the smelling? But now hath God set the members every one of them in the body, as it hath pleased him. And if they were all one member, where were the body? But now are they many members, yet but one body. And the eye cannot say unto the hand, I have no need of thee: nor again the head to the feet, I have no need of you.” – I Corinthians 12
I just republished Since Then, a book of poetry I originally published in 2021, to give it a new trim size and make it available outside of Amazon. It should be available to purchase at Barnes and Noble and other bookstores soon.
Here’s a sample:
When Moz Was Here
A comforting ritual – baking the annual Thanksgiving pies connects me to Thanksgivings past – decades of home and love, laughter, food, memories of those who’ve newly-arrived, and those departed. This year will be the first Thanksgiving without Moz. And as I pour blackberries into the pie, I realize these berries were ones I picked the summer after she passed, and I wonder if I might have a left-over bag of blackberries I picked during the summer before – when Moz was still moving among us. I go to the freezer in the garage and root amongst the frozen bags, digging, searching – and there! I find a bag of berries marked 2016! And now a part of the world that still held Moz in it is in this year’s Thanksgiving pie. -Karen Molenaar Terrell
My oldest son was born 32 years ago next month. The moment I became a mother, I changed profoundly as a human being. Here was a little life that meant more to me than my own life. Here was someone I would die for – without a second’s thought.
I instantly felt connected to every mother in the universe. I hadn’t really noticed babies before I became a mother myself, but when I became a mother I suddenly discovered that there were babies everywhere! I found my motherly instincts coming out with every baby I encountered – I cooed and played peekaboo and never hesitated to hold a baby other parents handed to me when their hands were full.
Becoming a mother changed who I was as a teacher, too. Now when I looked at my students’ faces I could see them as their mothers saw them. In fact, after I became a mother I found it easier to see EVERYone as their moms might see them. It opened up a whole ‘nother world to me – a world where I better understood my connection to everyone on this planet.
Five months after I birthed my oldest son, I celebrated my first Mother’s Day as a new mom. My own mom sent me $50 for that Mother’s Day. I wanted to buy something special with that money – something that I could keep forever to remember my mom, and to celebrate my own motherhood.
I went to our local mall – at that time our mall was a lively, busy place, filled with big department stores and little kiosks. At one of the kiosks I found a silver ring that depicted two dolphins swimming alongside each other. In my mind I saw a mother dolphin swimming alongside her baby dolphin – protecting and guiding him. That ring seemed perfect for Mother’s Day!
I loved that ring and what it represented for me, but at some point – I can’t remember exactly when now – it got put in a jewelry box with other rings and I lost track of it.
And this month I found it again! I put it on – and discovered another cool thing about this ring: although my fingers are no longer size 4, the ring bends to fit my fingers – it adapts to who I am now.
When I put on my dolphin ring, I remembered my mom’s gift to me that first Mother’s Day. I pictured her sweet face smiling at me. I could hear her voice. I told her that I understand now – I understand things I didn’t understand 32 years ago. I understand her sacrifices. I understand how much I took her love and support for granted. I understand the joy she must have felt when she became a grandma, and I understand now how it feels when your children fly from the nest to make their own lives – the pride when they unfold their wings and take to the air, and the closing of a chapter as they become specks on the horizon in their flight.
When I was a young mother I embraced the sacrifices that a young mother makes. But now I understand the sacrifices a mother with grown children makes – and they are just as real and just as noble. I didn’t appreciate what Mom sacrificed as we grew up and made our own lives. She never asked for more time with us – she knew we were busy – but I remember that Christmas Eve night when I showed up at Mom and Dad’s house unannounced and I remember the look of joy on my mom’s face when she came down the hallway and saw me sitting at her table. I’m so grateful now that I gave her that Christmas Eve night. I wish I had been able to give her more.
My dolphin ring links me between two generations – links me between my mom and my sons. And I’m so grateful for all of the love this ring represents.
Up in the middle of the night. Battling fears. Battling dismay. Something catches the corner of my eye – I look outside to see a little star sparkling at me – flashing red to blue – above all my fears above my dismay – a reassuring light in the darkness. A promise. A smile from the Cosmos. “You are my precious child.” -Karen Molenaar Terrell
Adventures of the Madcap Christian Scientist 