The Lesson

Seventeen years ago, I said my prayers and went to bed. When I got up in the morning, like everyone else, I brewed my coffee then went to make the bed.

My phone rang.  It was my brother.  "Are you watching TV?"

From that moment on, I was glued to the television,  as was most of the world. 

I saw the second plane hit, I watched the pentagon aftermath, I listened with much concern about Flight 93, the plane that would eventually be taken down in Somerset PA by brave passengers, because that is where my family lives.  I saw people jump from buildings to their death because they could not stand the fire.  I watched it all in disbelief, as did most of you  and I wondered what was still to come. 

And like you, my life was changed that day.

I realized that the world I thought was safe and secure, was not, and that anything could happen to anyone at any time.

I also discovered that the most important things in life were the people, not things.  If everything disappears, what do you really miss?  Your money?  Your jewelry? Your car? Your house?  No, you miss the people.

I spent a lot of time on the phone that day, checking in with Pennsylvania kinfolk, talking to friends and family near and far, telling them I loved them.

Then the years pass and we forget.  We forget how we felt that day and in the days right after.  Once the shock wore off, we forgot until 9-11 again rolled around.

I do not know if there is still any lesson to learn from that horrific day, but I think the most profound one we learned right then.  Live each day like it is your last and tell everyone you love them whenever you have the chance.

~Rhonda

Red Wing

My love and I just returned from a two-night trip to Red Wing MN.  It was so wonderful that I wish we could have stayed a week.  Trouble is, we may have ran out of exciting things to see around the next corner.  The little hidden gems that most people never hear about. The things that make this city so special.  If we had "done it all" and "seen it all," we may not have left feeling the deep need to return.

And I do want to return.  

Although I have been to Red Wing before, twice, I never spent the night and certainly never appreciated all the town has to offer. 

Despite the Mississippi River running right through town, perhaps the thing that set Red Wing apart from other small towns/cities, is that they have worked hard to make their city special.  From the restored buildings, to the beautification of the city, they have succeeded.  





Just passing through, it is unlikely you would notice the small things, but if you sit at the fountain downtown, you start to note special things, from the fact that the street lights and traffic lights are all black metal, adding to the yesteryear feel of the city, to the fact that even the plants have hoses discretely attached to them for watering. Businesses have been beautifully restored, pride in the city is shown everywhere.




And the St. James Hotel?  Well, it is the biggest jewel in a city of bright gems.  Built in 1875, it has a long, interesting history.  It was an honor to be a guest there. 

Our room looked out over the River and the train depot.

We will be back Red Wing. Next time we are taking the train over.  But first . . . a trip to Galena, IL and then Pennsylvania.  I guess we will have to do Red Wing for my birthday in November, then back to Cedarburg in December.

Life is good. Thank you God. 

~Rhonda

Time Passes—Things Change

Many years ago I used this same title in a chapter of the first book I wrote. It was fitting back then.  It still is.

While those four words could be used to explain anything and everything, especially in today's world where everything changes far too fast, today I am thinking of something very simple and very personal.

My eldest brother, Ed, is dying.  

Ed was five years older than me. While I sit and look at the multitude of photos my mother took of us two during my first five years of life, so when he was ages five to ten, I cannot really recall much about those photos.  What I do recall was that he picked on me my whole life, sometimes cruelly. 

Ed was never the "older brother" that most people think of having.  He was never my protector, my best friend, my confidant. But he was my brother, for better or worse.  You know what they say, you can pick your friends but not your family.

However, I do not write this to malign my brother, but rather to point out that even while never close, he was still my brother and as such, I love him.

Three years ago when I nearly died and was cognizant of that fact, I found such peace in knowing I could stop fighting.  My girls and grandkids were in God's hands anyway, right where they had always been. There was nothing I still "had" to do. My salvation was secure, my life was in order. I could just let go.  I never fought against it, it was okay.  I actually embraced and welcomed death.  Sometimes it is harder to fight the battles of life.  Ask me.

Ed is not there though.  He knows he is dying, knows he is down to a few days, accepts that it is coming, and yet he is afraid.  I wish I could give him the peace he needs.  I tried yesterday, but did not succeed.

When I go up to the hospital again tomorrow, I am going to pray with him and try to assure him that it is fine—God has this!  I will try to impart to him the peace he needs to just let go.

So yes, things change.  I will soon be the eldest sibling.  The little Wisconsin family will be down to four.   And we will probably go pretty much in the order of our births, barring something catastrophic. It will be my turn next.  Like dominoes in a row, we will all eventually topple.  That is how it is with the passage of time.

Yes, time passes—things change.  

That is how it is in life . . . and with death. 

~Rhonda