I look around the table
and see bountiful blessings
there is a vegan feast here
and family
and love
and I have a flashback
to forty years ago
before marriage
before the sons
before the daughters-in-law
before Clara Cat and Sparky
and for a moment I am in awe
of the bounty of today
O! The blessings!
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
podcast link: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/karen-molenaar-terrell/episodes/The-Dolphin-Ring-e2fo8ma
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.
podcast link: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/karen-molenaar-terrell/episodes/And-Loss-Is-Gain-e2fof90
A “short” I wrote entitled “No Separation in Love” appears in November’s Christian Science Journal. (An audio recording of the article is available, too.)
In my newest book, Looking Forward: More Adventures of the Madcap Christian Scientist, I talk more about my experience with loss in the chapter titled “And Loss Is Gain.” I think that chapter dovetails really well with the short in the Journal. There are details you’ll find in the Journal article that you won’t find in my book, and there are details in my chapter you won’t find in the Journal article.
Here’s the chapter from my book:
“And Loss Is Gain”
“O make me glad for every scalding tear,
For hope deferred, ingratitude, disdain!
Wait, and love more for every hate, and fear
No ill, — since God is good, and loss is gain.”
– Mary Baker Eddy, “Mother’s Evening Prayer”
When I learned Andrew and Christina might be moving to, literally, the other side of the world, I went through a period of deep mourning. It felt like someone I loved had died – like another huge loss in a long series of huge losses.
And then I started pulling together all the tools I had been collecting over the years – the insights and healings and epiphanies – and I constructed a bridge for myself over the deep mourning.
I remembered the dream I’d had when the sons had first started moving out of the house and creating their own lives: In the dream I was in some building that just went on forever. I was walking in a leisurely pace from room to room, and periodically this voice would ask, “Karen, do you want to turn around or not?” I’d grin like it was a joke, and just keep moving forward. I didn’t want to turn around. I didn’t want to go back. I didn’t want to be like Lot’s wife in the Bible, who turned around and became a pillar of salt – fixed in time. I didn’t want to yearn for what WAS, but I wanted to look forward to what was to come.
And then I remembered the time when my youngest son showed me yet another tattoo he’d had etched on himself, and I’d felt so grieved that he was covering his beautiful skin with these permanent etchings that I’d reached my thoughts out to God for help. The voice of Love had immediately answered my prayers with these words, “Xander doesn’t belong to you. He belongs to himself and he belongs to Me. What he does with his body and his life is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS. Xander is fine, and will always be fine. And so are you.” I’d immediately felt the fears and grief lift from me. And when, the next day, Xander showed me the new tattoos on his knuckles, I found myself saying to him, “Oh! Those are cool! What do they mean?” He’d looked a little surprised by my reaction, and then he’d gone through and told me what each tattoo meant – the pine tree represented the Pacific Northwest; the top hat and smiley face represented humor; the mountain range represented our family heritage; the feather represented freedom; and the crown represented purpose. Isn’t that beautiful?
Another tool I pulled out was the memory of a time when my family was scattered out across the United States – I was in Chicago for my Christian Science Association, Andrew was living in Los Angeles, Xander and Scott were in Washington State – and I had a sort of revelation. Did our physical separation in any way weaken my love for my family? Did the fact that we weren’t in close physical proximity in any way make me love my sons and husband less? The answer, of course, was no. And then I thought about the loved ones who have died through the years and realized that death hasn’t stopped me from loving them, either. It became clear to me that NOTHING can separate us from the love we have for each other.
One morning, a couple of weeks after I’d learned of Andrew and Christina’s possible move, I woke up feeling full of joy. I walked out and stood on our back deck in the sunshine, breathed in the morning air, and listened to the birdsong. The thought came to me that something amazing is coming. I realized that not only does God have wonderful plans for Andrew and Christina, and Xander and Kyla, but She has wonderful plans for me, too.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
I left a land of cockatoos and palm trees
and landed before I left in another time zone
under gray skies and Douglas firs
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
In the end, we arrived back in America a couple of hours before we left Australia. Yes, I’m here to tell you that time travel is, indeed, possible.
There is a seventeen-hour time difference between Australia and where we live in Bow, Washington. So we lifted off from Vancouver, BC, on July 5th and landed in Sydney 18 hours later on July 7th. And from that point until we arrived back in North America yesterday, everything has been a little upside down and backwards for me. In Australia, the sun moves along the northern sky and rises on the right; Folks drive on the left side of the road; and Australians have their winter when North America is having its summer. On our return, we left Sydney at 8:40 am on July 25th and arrived in Vancouver 15 hours later – and two hours earlier – at 6:40 am on July 25th. Whoah.
***
Australia was wonderful. The people are friendly and fun. The birds are full of color and music. The flowers are vibrant. The winter weather is like springtime in my part of the world.
I met so many amazing people “down under” – the helpful, smiling security folks at the airport; the travelers from Canada who waited with us in the customs line and let me know that I’m not the only one who’s always checking to see if my passport is still where it needs to be – apparently other people check to see if their passports have somehow leaped out of pockets and purses, too; the woman who laughed with me when, after my husband asked me if I needed help, I pulled my heavy suitcase out of the baggage carousel at the Sydney airport and repeated Aussie Helen Reddy’s lyrics, “I am woman/hear me roar”; the staff at Karen’s Diner and the staff at the Baytouna Lebanese restaurant; the cheery cashier at the coffee shop who taught me how to say “table seven” (“tible sayven”); the police officers and soccer fans celebrating the women’s soccer team in Sydney; the firefighters at the cafe; the confident, competent, lovely midwife who delivered my new grandbaby; the line of passengers at Sydney airport who laughed with me when I got into their line accidentally and almost boarded the wrong plane – “Americans!” I said, shaking my head, and grinning in embarrassment, and they joined me in my laughter and helped me feel accepted in my human-ness; and the wonderful woman from Quebec I met while waiting to board the plane I was actually supposed to be on, who shared how she travels from Canada to Australia twice a year to visit her son and daughter (who both married Australians) and to see her grandchildren. She inspired me and helped me realize that I’m not alone in the physical distance I have between my son and daughter-in-law and grandchild – that other people are in similar situations, and that we all want our children to live the lives they need to live, even if it means they’re on the other side of the world.
***
I’m thinking about all that needed to happen for our beautiful baby granddaughter to arrive on this planet. I think about the miracles that brought little Marilyn here. Her maternal grandmother, Kim, had to survive a year in a Vietnamese prison, working as slave labor, after being caught trying to escape from Vietnam when she was 18; her maternal grandfather, Ben, had to escape from Vietnam on a terrifying boat ride before finding a new home in Australia. Little Marilyn’s paternal great-grandfather, my father Dee Molenaar, had to survive a desperate situation in 1953 on K2, the world’s second highest mountain – his life hanging on the end of a rope belayed by his climbing teammate, Pete Schoening. Little Marilyn’s paternal great-grandmother, my mother “Moz,” was the tenth of ten children – somehow managing to squeak into birth after her mother had decided she was having no more children after birthing number nine nearly killed her. Little Marilyn’s paternal grandfather, my husband Scott, had to impulsively get in a car bound for the west coast with his friends and start a new life in Washington State so that we could meet and marry and start a family. Little Marilyn’s parents, my son and daughter-in-law – one from Washington State and one from Sydney, Australia – had to both decide to visit a Buddhist retreat in California during the pandemic, in order for them to meet and fall in love, and bring Marilyn to us.
What are the odds of ANY of that happening?!
Marilyn’s existence has made all our lives more important than they were before she came.
***
I have so much to be grateful for today. My heart is full. My daughter-in-law and son are already amazing parents – nurturing and conscientious, and in love with their new baby; my new granddaughter is healthy and strong and beautiful; my daughter-in-law’s mother, Kim, is generous and kind and took wonderful care of us during our stay in Australia. Instead of love being cut off from me and separated, the love in my life is expanding and including more people and places. My sense of what constitutes “family” is growing.
I’ve been told there are people who have lived
in my community for “generations” and I think
about the wonder of that – of families putting down roots
that grow deep and old and connect them to the land
of grandparents and great-grandparents and great-greats.
And I think about my family – scattered across continents –
and none of us have spent a lifetime living in one house,
one town, one community, on the same land
as generations before us.
And for a moment I feel a sadness about that.
And then…
The phrase “rooted and grounded in love” pops into my head.
And I realize that the members of my family ARE connected,
right now, on the same ground as generations before us,
and generations to come. Our roots HAVE grown deep
and are connected in Love – the richest ground of all.
And nothing can destroy our roots
or our connection to each other.
Nothing can separate us from our home.
There is no diaspora for us.
We are rooted in Love.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
Ephesians 3: 14-19
For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
Of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named,
That he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man;
That Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith; that ye, being rooted and grounded in love,
May be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height;
And to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the fulness of God.
There are two books in the Adventures with Dad series – plus a related book called Finding the Rainbows. There are 25 reviews for the three books – 24 of them are five stars. 🙂
Heidi writes about Are You Taking Me Home Now? Adventures with Dad:
“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.”
So yesterday I’m eating breakfast by myself at the Harris Cafe. Some young folks come in and sit at the table next to me – two women and a man probably in their early twenties. And, of course, I’m listening into their conversation. And they’re funny and laughing at themselves and supportive of each other and they’ve got that energy, you know? And I find myself sitting there with a big grin on my face – just soaking in the joy.
After I’m done with my breakfast, as I get up to leave, I just have to stop and say something to these young ‘uns. So I turn to them and explain that I’m a retired high school teacher and the mother of two sons who are now all grown up – and that I’ve been missing the energy of young people. I tell them how much I’ve enjoyed their kindness to each other and their laughter. And they smile these warm, open smiles back at me, and nod their heads in understanding, and one of the women says, “Thank you!” and “You need to call your son!”
I ended up going to a movie, “Blackberry,” with my youngest son and his wife yesterday afternoon. And that was so fun! And then when I got home I called my oldest son in Australia and videochatted with him – I told him the story of meeting the three young people at the restaurant and told him I was obeying the orders of the young woman who told me to call my son. We had a wonderful chat together – and laughed and hugged each other over the phone. It was good.
And now I’m sitting here smiling and crying simultaneously. I do this a lot lately. There’s a feeling that can’t be put into a nice neat box and labeled “sad” or “happy” or “bad” or “good.” It’s deeper than all of those things. It goes beyond “bad” or “good.” It just IS.
Sitting next to those young people yesterday – soaking up their energy – was a gift for me.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
“When the heart speaks, however simple the words, its language is always acceptable to those who have hearts.”
-Mary Baker Eddy, “Heart to “Heart” in Miscellaneous Writings
Here’s the link to the podcast.
I’ve been in a funk today – I feel like I’ve been treading water just to stay afloat – mourning friends and family who have passed on in the last several years. But just now – as the sun slipped beneath the horizon – I left my house for a quick walk and stepped into magic. I was instantly surrounded in evening smells and sounds – frogsong and birdsong and the perfume that comes from the spring flowers as the evening wraps around them. I looked up at the night sky and saw a light shining down on me – I think from a planet – and then, further away, a star twinkled at me. And I was just suddenly so grateful. So grateful to live in a place where I’m safe to walk around the block on a fragrant spring evening. So grateful that the sounds I hear are coming from birds and frogs, and not cannons and guns. So grateful that the sky is clear and clean and I can see the stars on a sweet spring evening.
I looked up at the stars and could feel my friends and family with me. I felt a part of something cosmic and divine.
It just hit me. In the past when I wrote a “Madcap Christian Scientist” book, my mom was one of the first people I’d share it with. She was my biggest fan. And, just now, for a moment, I forgot she was gone, and I thought: I need to give Moz a copy of this. And then I remembered.
Whoah.
I’m on my own with this one.
I put a dime in the traffic meter
and bought myself four minutes.
And I thought what could I do
with my four minutes?
If I could pay a dime
for four minutes in past time –
what four minutes would I bring
back for myself?
Four minutes with Mom and Dad?
Four minutes with the sons?
Maybe everyone together
around the Thanksgiving table
for four minutes more?
I put a dime in the traffic meter
and bought myself four minutes.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
Adventures of the Madcap Christian Scientist 