Quiet and still, before the family is up, I turn the lights on the Christmas tree and sit in its cheery glow. I wrap myself all up in the soft blanket of Love and feel Her enveloping the world in peace and hope.
I sip my lemon ginger tea with honey, and contemplate Christmases past when the sons were youngsters, and my parents were still with us. Yesterday I was feeling sad about the absence of parents and friends who’ve gone on – but in this moment I feel them still with me and I hug them all in my thoughts and smile at their still-nearness.
Love is never lost. All the good of then is still with me here. Karen Molenaar Terrell
So I plucked up a copy of my Christmas book (literally called The Madcap Christian Scientists’s Christmas Book) sitting by my laptop so’s I could look for things to share. And the book flipped to this page and I realized this was the copy I’d given to Moz and Dad when I’d first published it – when they’d passed it had come back to me. And there was a note from Mom! It was like she was right here, speaking to me. I’d really been missing her lately, so to find this message from her felt cosmic to me. I don’t think I’d ever seen this note before – it was like finding a new treasure.
I admit I was nervous about traveling to LAX this week. I was flying with Alaska Airlines, and they’d had a spot of trouble last week. Also I was concerned there might be a dearth of air traffic controllers – seeing as how these heroic folks haven’t been paid for the last week I wouldn’t have blamed any of them for leaving to find work that would provide them with income. So it was with some trepidation – and a lot of prayer – that I I started my journey to Los Angeles on Tuesday morning.
There had been moments before my trip when I’d had this sense of certainty that Love was with me, preparing my way for me, leading me. I was motivated by Love to travel to California to see my son, daughter-in-law, and grandbaby, and I knew this was a right desire, and could only lead to Good. At those moments, I determined that my mission was to shine love on everyone I encountered on my trip. But, every now and then, a news headline would hit my newsfeed that had me doubting again. There was a battle going on in my thoughts between fear and happy anticipation to see my loved ones again.
My husband drove me the hour and a half to Sea-Tac (bless him!) and dropped me off at the departures door. Now it was just me and Love. It took practically no time to find the security line – and I was, like, the second person in line! I got through the whole security line in probably three minutes!
Once I was on the other side, I went in search of a restroom. There was a flight attendant in the restroom, standing by the sinks, cleaning out her bag – apparently she’d spilled something in it. I asked her if she was going to LAX, and she said she was – I told her we were going to be on the same plane then. Her job, I said, was one of the hardest jobs in the world – flight attendants have to serve and take care of everyone else first, but they’re dealing with the same difficulties as everyone else on the flight. She smiled and nodded and said that yup, we’re all in the same boat together. I asked her if she’d had any problems last week while Alaska Airlines’ technology wasn’t working, and she said she and her crew had been grounded 12 hours someplace. Yikes! But here she was – ready to get on another plane and serve her passengers. Another hero. She indicated – pointing to her bag – she was feeling a little frazzled at the moment, but I told her (and this was true) she totally looked put together, and I felt reassured knowing she was going to be on the plane with me.
An hour later, when I boarded my flight, I saw Sheryl there, greeting people at the door, smiling. I said, “We made it!” and she started laughing.
The flight to Los Angeles was incredibly quick and smooth – I think we landed early. And when I got there, my beautiful daughter-in-law and precious granddaughter were there to pick me up. My daughter-in-law set my little granddaughter down about ten yards away from me and let her race to me, a big grin on her face. I scooped her up and held her close and felt myself in heaven.
I was only in LA for three days – but it was chock full of joy and hope and good people. It was chock full of love. And it was so good to be with my son, daughter-in-law, and grandbaby again.
We went to the neighborhood playground and I climbed the equipment with my grandbaby and enjoyed watching her work her way around the big toys; We stopped at Shawn’s Pumpkin Patchhttps://shawnspumpkinpatch.com/ , where we met Whitney and Dennis, and I had fun volunteering to take family photos for the other tourists; We strolled down the Santa Monica Pier, and stepped into the photo booth for some pics; We went to the Cafe Gratitude for dinner and met sweet Kiara pup standing in line with her human there; The next day we went to the The Butcher’s Daughter for lunch – that day I was proudly wearing my Mariners shirt and I asked one of the servers if he was a Dodger’s fan – he said no, but I found out he was a Yankees fan, and I had fun talking baseball with him for a quick minute; I bought fresh-squeezed lemonades from Mike at Hot Dog on a Stick in Santa Monica – and I really wanted to give Mike a tip for his genuine kindness to me, but he wouldn’t take one – he graciously allowed me to snap his photo, though, and laughed when I introduced myself as a Boomer named Karen – passing my Karen test; Then my daughter-in-law, grandbaby, and I sat and listened to Ian Bradley and his drummer make music next to the Hot Dog on a Stick restaurant while we sipped our lemonades. I dropped a donation in their box and got thanked and twirled for my humble gift.
The morning of my last day there, my daughter-in-law brought me to a music-in-the-park event for toddlers hosted by the musician, Ryoji. And oh! Once again, I felt I was in heaven. The music, the youngsters, the parents and grandparents and nannies – of every color, race, and ethnicty – enjoying music and dancing together and showing love to one another – isn’t this heaven?!
In the afternoon my son drove me to LAX for my trip back to Sea-Tac. We gave each other big hugs goodbye, reminded each other we’d see each other again soon at Christmas, and I headed for the security line.
I got in line behind a woman who just radiated good will and kindness. I told her I’m always a little nervous about going through security – afraid I’ve accidentally committed some security transgression (this time I accidentally wore my cellphone into the full body scan, but – thank goodness! – the TSA official clocked the cellphone before he scanned me – he said cellphones are 99% of the reason the scanner alarms go off – yikes!). My new friend, Alia, laughed and yawned and said she was too tired to be nervous about that today. We got to talking then, and learned we were both on the same flight to Seattle! How cosmic! I followed Alia through the security line and then we both went separate directions in search of food. But we met up again in the waiting area before we boarded the plane, and got to talking about our families, the goodness of people, and kindness. Heaven again!
I met so many wonderful new friends on my trip! And every place I went I found heaven.
My dad’s birthday is today. He would have been 107. I’ve put other stuff on my wall about Pop – recycled stories and videos (and have I mentioned Dad is in Wikipedia?) But I thought I’d gift him with something new for his birthday. He’s not really gone, you see. I still feel his presence here with me – not as a ghost or anything – but I feel his smile with me, his humor and his love.
Daddy, I miss our drives together. I miss the conversations we managed to have, even though we were both hard-of-hearing. I remember you sitting in the passenger seat, your head going back and forth as you took in the landscape, telling me about the geologic history of whatever area we were traveling through, and often saying, “I made a field trip out here for the USGS,” or “I hiked that trail,” or “I climbed that,” or “This would make a good painting.”
One of the greatest gifts you passed on to me was a love for the outdoors, and an appreciation of the natural beauty around us. I followed you up to the summits of Hood and Rainier, Baker and Adams – and when I look at those peaks now I’m sort of in awe that I climbed them – who was I to think I could do that?!
I was Dee Molenaar’s daughter, that’s who.
You instilled a confidence in myself that’s gotten me through some really challenging years. Thank you for that gift, too.
Through your travels and connections you met some amazing, fearless people. Your community of fellow adventurers was filled with brave, heroic visionaries. You introduced me to people of all races and all major religions, and exampled for me what it means to love the world’s people without bigotry or discrimination. As a youngster, I hiked with Tenzing Norgay! As a twelve-year-old, I ran a mile down our country road with Doris Brown!! Governor Evans came to our house to borrow climbing equipment one time. And it wasn’t out-of-the-ordinary for me to pick up the phone and find myself talking to Edmund HIllary. You were comfortable moving among both the famous and the not, and always enjoyed meeting new “mountain people.”
You could be stubborn. You could be critical. You could be bossy. But I always knew you loved me. I always felt your support. You let me know you were proud of me. I’m glad I had you for my Pop.
Happy birthday, Daddy!
(Photos: My feet next to Dad’s – I think this was on our climb of Mount Hood when I was 15; a screenshot of what came up when I googled “Dee Molenaar”; Dad, my brother, Pete, and I on Mount Rainier.)
My trip to visit my son, his wife, and my granddaughter only lasted three days, but I was living in a whole ‘nother world inside of those three days. I came back restored.
Because I wanted to travel light and didn’t want to have to worry about carry-on baggage or trying to get all my electronics out of my backpack when I went through security, I didn’t bring my laptop or ebook. I didn’t listen to news, didn’t watch television, and, other than posting some quick pics from my cellphone, I pretty much stayed off of social media.
It was AWESOME!
The son and his family live in Venice, California, and we took long walks together over the canals and down to the beach, past vibrant murals and artsy boutiques. My granddaughter, little Linh, pointed out a white egret stepping along the edge of the canal and we enjoyed watching him as he foraged for lunch. And then Rigby the pup came up to us with a big smile and a wagging tail for a pet on the head.
We walked to the Erewhon Market and were greeted with a friendly smile at the door by Russ, who told me that the market has a lot of people named Russ there. “It’s like a Russ magnet,” I said. And he laughed and agreed.
On my last morning in Venice, Christina and Linh brought me with them to the Linnie Canal Park for a music program for toddlers. The four young women who led the program sang with the children, brought out instruments for them to play, and led them in fun dances. Music and dance and toddlers laughing together! That, my friends, is healing.
My son drove me to the airport, parked, and walked me in. I saw a couple of security guards standing at the bottom of an escalator and asked them where I needed to go. They smiled at me, and one of them asked me if I had any baggage to check (nope!) and asked to see my boarding pass on my phone. Then he told me I could just go right up the escalator, turn right, and get in the general security check line. I told him I knew there’d be people to help me at the airport, and thanked him. I asked him his name and he said “Alex” and then he asked me my name and I said, “Karen, of course.” He started laughing, and wished me a good flight.
My son and I hugged good bye at the bottom of the escalator and I made my way to the security line. I watched to see what the people ahead of me were doing as they got to the security conveyer belt. I took two bins and, trying to look like a I fly on planes every week, sorted my backpack and purse and jacket in the bins. I turned to the man behind me and asked, “Do I look like I know what I’m doing?” and he grinned and said I did. “I’m just copying all the people in front of me,” I confessed, and he laughed and said that’s what we ALL were doing.
When I got up to the security lady – a woman of about my age who’d been using a curt voice with the people in front of me – I pointed to my bins and asked her, “How’d I do?” She put her curt voice aside and smiled and told me it looked like I’d done a good job.
I was feeling hungry and went in search of food. I stopped at the Wahoo’s to order a quesadilla. The woman in front of me in line must have thought she was taking longer than she should because she turned around and apologized. Including the cashier, I said, “No! You’re both doing a great job!” And they smiled at me.
I ordered my quesadilla and waited near the pick-up counter. The cashier called out the number of the woman who’d been ahead of me, but I could tell she hadn’t heard it, so I yelled, “Forty-seven!” – which she heard. The cashier thanked me for yelling out her number, and I grinned and told him I was using my teacher voice.
When I boarded the plane I found there was an empty seat between my window seat and the man sitting in the aisle seat. I asked him, hopefully, if the middle seat had been empty when he’d reserved his seat, and he made a sad face and said no. “Dang,” I said, “Well, maybe it will end up being someone really lovely.”
Our seat partner soon joined us, and we all settled in for our flight. As our plane rolled down the runway, I could see a beautiful sunset blossoming on the horizon. I tried to take a picture, but then our plane turned and… I looked at the young man sitting in the middle seat and said, “The sunset’s amazing, but…”
He smiled in understanding, and finished my sentence for me, “It’s on the wrong side of the plane.”
Soon Eelco and I had introduced ourselves to each other and were in conversation. I learned he’s Dutch – so I, of course, told him my dad’s family had come from de Nederlands, and told him my maiden name was “Molenaar” – which he recognized as totally Dutch. We talked about skiing – he was going to visit a Dutch cousin in Montana to go skiing – and I told him my dad had been, among other things, a ski instructor. Then we talked about traveling – because if you’re a Dutch downhill skier you’re going to need to leave your country to do that. And we talked about languages, jobs, education, family (ahem, I might have mentioned Dad is in Wikipedia for mountaineering), traveling, adventures. I learned he was the same age as my son and we talked about how different the world was when I was born compared to when he and my son were born.
I dozed off for a bit then, and woke to find we were close to landing.
This is when the man on the other side of Eelco told him that I’d been hoping the middle seat would be open. “But,” I added, “I did say that maybe we’d get a lovely person in the middle.” And Brett, the man in the aisle seat, nodded in agreement that I had indeed said that. Now Eelco and Brett got in conversation and learned that they’d both been vendors at the Natural Products Expo West this week! Brett had been there to vend the cardboard containers his company sells; and Eelco had been there to show the glass containers his company sells. They might have even passed each other while they were there!
It is a small world, my friends.
My husband had parked the car and was waiting for me in the baggage claim area. It was so good to see him again! I had all kinds of stories I wanted to share with him about our grandbaby’s hugs, and the people I met on my trip, and the things I saw.
We live in a beautiful world full of new friends just waiting to be met, of laughing toddlers, and people who want to help us on our journeys.
I’m going to hang on to that as I move into the future.
There was another time – almost exactly eight years ago now – when I was terrified and felt like I was facing challenges impossible to overcome. Both my parents were in the hospital – Mom on one floor, Dad on the floor above her. I’d just learned that Mom was not going to be allowed to return to her retirement community apartment because they couldn’t provide the medical care she’d need. I had made calls to assisted living places and to offices that provided in-home nursing care and learned that the cost of my mom’s care – combined with care for Dad – would cost $8000 or more a month. Their savings might buy them a couple months, but then I might need to get into my own retirement savings to care for them.
And beyond the money terror, I was feeling a deep grief. Mom was dying. My sweet mama was dying. No one would ever love me like Mom loved me, or know me as she had known me. I remember sobbing with hopelessness.
I talked with my husband about our options, and he supported me in my decision to have Mom brought to our home. He agreed to help me care for her. The social workers at the hospital were concerned for me – they kept asking me if this is what I really wanted to do, and I said yes. I didn’t know how we were going to do this – my husband and I were both working full-time then, and I wasn’t sure when we were going to actually be able to sleep. But I knew it was the right thing to do. I felt Love leading me to make this decision for Mom.
Mom was brought by ambulance to my home on President’s Day eight years ago. A hospice nurse from Hospice Northwest came to show Scott and me how to care for Mom. We weren’t sure how long we’d have with her – I think we were told she wasn’t expected to live more than six months – but… I picked up on the signs from the hospice nurse as she examined Mom that we probably didn’t have that long.
Mom and I spent the whole afternoon telling each other how much we loved each other. Mom – who’d always been one of the bravest people I’d ever known – was scared. I can’t remember any other time when I’d seen her scared. She asked me, “What happens when I die? Will I see you again?” And I told her that nothing could separate us from the love we have for each other. Love doesn’t die. I assured her we’d meet again. She nodded her head and seemed to accept my words as the truth. Later, as it got hard for her to speak, I asked her one more time if she loved me – I was greedy. And she looked at me with such intensity – her eyes on mine filled with love – and nodded her head. I will never forget that look in her eyes. I carry it with me still, and it reassures me.
That night I slept on the couch by her hospital bed. I had this beautiful dream full of butterflies and green fields and felt this sense of joy and peace and love brush by me. When I woke from this dream I realized Mom wasn’t struggling to breathe and I thought, “Oh, she’s okay. I don’t need to give her any medication right now.” And I closed my eyes to go back to sleep, and then I realized… I got out of bed and felt my mama, and she was cool. I went upstairs to tell Scott I thought she had passed, but I wasn’t sure. Scott came downstairs and felt her pulse, and said, “Moz is gone, Sweetie.”
The hospice nurse came and walked us through what we needed to do. I’ll always be grateful for our hospice nurses.
But now my thoughts turned to Dad – he was soon to be released from the hospital and I still didn’t know how we were going to give him the care he needed. He was 98 then and suffering from a kind of dementia – and I didn’t feel equipped with the skills to help him. I prayed. I prayed desperate prayers, and I went for a walk to try to find some peace. As I was walking, a rainbow suddenly arched over the field I was passing, and I felt Mom with me.
The social workers at the hospital asked me if I’d ever looked into adult family homes, and gave me a pamphlet with phone numbers. On the second call I felt I’d found the right place for Dad and when my brother and I stopped by to check it out we saw bird feeders and dogs and cats – and we knew Mom would have loved the woman who answered the door. Again, I felt Mom’s presence with us. We’d found the right place for Dad – and within his budget, too!
I learned something from that experience. The answers are always there – even when things seem impossible. I hadn’t know that adult family home even existed the day before – and now here it was! Just waiting for Dad! Love had this place waiting for him!
Dad lived another three years and the people in his adult family home became like family to us. They are still very dear to me.
And I still feel Mom and Dad with me. We’ve never been separated. Nothing can separate us from Love. We’re connected by Love, forever and ever. Amen.
It’s been five and eight now – five years since Dad and eight years since Mom. And I’m still here, still moving along, surviving without them near to guide and advise and bolster.
And, for me, this seems remarkable because I’m really still just a little kid in spite of my gray hair, and being a wife and a mom and a grandma myself, and a many-yeared career. It amazes me that I’ve made it this far without Mom and Dad to guide me.
But they gave me tools to survive without them – Dad brought me into the mountains and showed me how strong I am and how brave. Mom showed me how to use Love to heal myself and the world. And they both showed me how to laugh when life gets absurd. I’m so grateful to them for these tools – these gifts.
Today when I think about them and feel their love for me, I will recognize my tears for what they really are – tears of gratitude; tears of recognition of Life that never ends. – Karen Molenaar Terrell
It hit me today as I was hanging another ornament on the tree – a gift from east coast family – that no matter how many ornaments I hang I’m never going to have my whole family together again in the person, on this planet. Parents have passed now; Loved ones scattered. And somehow facing this reality and accepting it – helped give me perspective on what matters. I’d been raising the bar too high for Christmas – making my joy dependent on what can’t be – instead of being grateful for all the good that IS – for all the good that’s mine here and now. There’s still so much to celebrate – and nothing can separate me from the love of Love Itself. -Karen Molenaar Terrell
Colleen was born the youngest of ten children to Christian and Ida (Miller) Haag on December 26, 1927 in Pasco, Washington.
She graduated from Pasco High School in 1945 and went on to attend the University of Idaho (where she ran on the track team), the College of Puget Sound (UPS), and the University of Montana, where she earned her degree in musical performance in 1951.
During the summers between college she worked in the souvenir shop at Mount Rainier National Park, where she met her husband, Dee, who was a park ranger there.
Colleen “Mozzy” Molenaar was a treasure. She was fun and feisty and had a wonderful self-deprecating sense of humor. She taught her children that God is Love, and taught them to look for the good in people.
She was a gifted singer and had once been accepted into the Portland Opera Company, but decided, instead, to marry Dee and move to Colorado to begin a life with him.
In her younger years she spent much of her time in the mountains with Dee, hiking and climbing (she climbed to the summit of Mount Rainier twice!).
In her later years she enjoyed crossword puzzles, reading (her tastes were eclectic), caring for her animals (goats, llamas, and cats) at the family home in Port Orchard, keeping her bird feeders filled, watching Carl Sagan talk about the cosmos, and spending time with her children and grand-children.
In 2016 she and Dee moved to LaConner to be closer to her daughter.
She passed away peacefully in her sleep at her daughter’s home in Bow, Washington, on February 21, 2017.
Mozzy is survived by her husband of 62 years, Dee; her daughter, Karen, and son-in-law, Scott Terrell; her son, Peter, and his partner Sheila (Lindula) of Hoodsport; son David Molenaar of Olympia; and grandchildren, Andrew and Alexander Terrell (both of Bellingham), Claire Molenaar (Denver, Colorado) and Casey Molenaar (Olympia), and numerous nephews, nieces, and friends.
She was preceded in death by her parents and nine siblings.
Colleen’s family is grateful for the wonderful people at hospice who helped her through this transition. Special thanks to hospice nurse, Renee.
Thoughts from Moz’s grandson, Casey: I have never seen such an amazing soul, one that the world has had the great misfortune to lose today. No matter the situation, she ONLY gave out love and nothing but and she has been a huge part of my understanding of love and has instilled its importance in me. I believe that the thing I heard from her the most was “God is love” — and that statement, in the entirety of its meaning, looms inside me and will continue to for the rest of my life.
I am thankful to have had such a giving and goofy woman in my life…There aren’t enough words to describe this wonderful lady. I will miss her very much, as will I’m sure every single person who has had the pleasure of meeting her. And truth be told, as I reflect, I am happy; I was fortunate enough to know her and call her a big part of my family.
Thank you for teaching me that love is EVERYTHING.
I wake early on Christmas morn and come downstairs to plug in the lights. I feel the loss of those who aren’t near this year – I feel the holes in my sphere and I feel grief here.
And then Love is talking to me, gently nudging my shoulder, embracing me and letting me know I am not alone.
I feel my dear ones gathering around me – those who have passed on, and those still on this plane of existence – I feel their love without distance – they’re with me still. I reach out and hug them back. There are no holes here. My heart is filled.
But I thought I’d gift him with something new for his birthday. He’s not really gone, you see. I still feel his presence here with me – not as a ghost or anything – but I feel his smile with me, his humor and his love.
Adventures of the Madcap Christian Scientist 