Because I Can

On Friday, I became an Iowan again - new drivers license, car title and plates - and the first thing I did was walk across the Dallas County parking lot to the election office and voted. Why? Because I can. I think so many times we get so wrapped up in the election process that we forget what is at the core of it - people stepping up to help our communities grow and move forward.

Running for office is hard, it is endless hours on the phone, reading emails, answering questions and listening to others' voices. Would you give up your weekends and nights to listen to others and their concerns and challenges? When I ask friends why they run for office, I get almost the same answer every time, "Because I can."

The opportunity to make a difference comes in the smallest and simplest forms - from picking up trash left on the street, to running for city council to running for president. People do these things because they can and in honor for the ones who can't. I know I will probably never run for a election position, I don't have the thick skin for it, but for those who are on the ballot tomorrow - thank you. Thank you for taking the time and putting in the passion to help us make a difference. For those of you who have or will vote - thank you.  Thank you for your help in making difference in our communities.

And for those of you thinking about not voting, remember those who wish they could vote and can't. Think about others in countries where they are not allowed to vote on who runs their county. You can and you should make your voice heard on the local, state and national level. It is because we can, that we live in such an amazing country! Get out and vote!

Peace. Love. Iowa.

Eel Pout Festival

Well, it is happening again.  The U-Haul has been reserved, addresses updated and Kleenex boxes emptied.  I am on the move, again.  But this time is a little different, for once I am not moving for me, I am moving for us.

A few months ago, Curtis and I came to a unexpected fork in the road when it came to our original "we should live in the same state" game plan, so decisions were weighed and made and plans were changed with the hope that in the coming months Des Moines would soon be home for us both.

Curtis moved first after securing a new job in West Des Moines.  Boxes were packed, Felix the Cat found a new home (sorry, Felix!) and a lease was signed, and quickly our "normal" weekly drive of four hours was extended to almost six - us and I35 were going to continue to BBFs.

Shreddin' red in Riverton

Then, it was my turn.  I headed out into the job searching world once again, but this time with purpose.  I knew I wanted to stay in the nonprofit sector and found myself continuing to be pulled to a position where I could build relationships and connect people who want to make a difference.  After a couple of months of searching, I was offered the Director of Individual and Corporate Giving position with Orchard Place in Des Moines.

Orchard Place is a youth mental health organization that serves over 10,000 youth in Iowa annually and supports a cause very close to my heart.  In the past two years I have seen the direct impact that mental health issues can have on a family, on a parent, on a kid.  It hurts and it hurts hard and while it is not a something you talk about over dinner or hotdish, it is something that impacts so many families.  When I interviewed for the role, I knew I could do it justice because I knew what was at stake and the importance of their work.  Most importantly, I felt that I could truly make a difference.

Start of 100 miles!

As soon as I accepted the offer, tears started to flow.  I was so happy for this new position and so happy to be moving with Curtis, but yet my heart hurt.  I knew the goodbyes were soon to follow, goodbyes that I loath and can barely get through without a Kleenex in my hand.  You see, it is never truly about saying goodbye to a job or a home, it is about saying goodbye to the people.  It is the people that truly make all the difference.

During the last two years years, I have met so many amazing people and reconnected with old friends, my hometown and Central Minnesota.  By far the best relationship I was able to work on was the one with my parents, who I spent so many hours connecting with all over again.  I learned so much more about who they are now and who they were back then, and I am so proud to have them as my parents and as a source of inspiration.    

Morning kayak up north

Needless to say, the most impactful relationship that I gained while being a second-time Minnesota resident was during a pit stop while traveling through Iowa.  A pit stop that wasn't suppose to happen that night or even at that bar.  But I will forever be grateful for whomever help that pit stop happen because it was there at the OP in Clear Lake that I met Curtis and my life was changed.  After countless miles commuting between North Iowa and Central Minnesota and hours upon hours of cell phone minutes, we are standing on the edge of our next big step together, and I couldn't imagine being in this adventure with anyone else.

So here we go, back to Iowa.  I have realized that I may now hold the record for most times a person has moved to Iowa.  First one for school, second one for work, and this one time, well as corny as it sounds (get it? Corny - Iowa?!? #sorrynotsorry), this one is for love.

To my dearest Minnesota - thank you.  Thank you for the memories, the miles on the bike and that horrible lutefisk feed.  Well, maybe not the actual lutefisk, but you get the idea.  You helped me see why my childhood here was truly one of the best and why Minnesotans continue to hold a special place in my heart.   I look forward to my final week as a resident and my old familiar role as a visitor. 

Dear Iowa - you have been warned, this Minnesotan is coming back!

Central MN Bike Club

  

Joy.

Joy.  Simple pure joy.  Why do we forget so quickly how important that is?  The moment of pure bliss and happiness.  It doesn't happen all the time and many times we miss it, we forget to notice that moment, but then other times, well, we see it clear as day.  I have found one place that is consistently full of pure joy.  A place where tears of happiness flow steadily, smiles are the widest and the hugs are the most genuine, the one place where true raw emotions run fast and hard.  It is at the security doors outside of baggage claim at the MSP airport.

My friend Jen told me during my days in Alaska, that if you ever want to feel pure happiness, go to the airport.  From sadness from saying goodbye, to happiness of seeing a loved one, it all happens in this one spot.  Every Christmas I watch, "Love Actually" and adore the scenes highlighting the emotions occurring at the airport, and in all my flights this has always been the case.  Walking through those doors spur a sense of excitement, of happiness, of joy.  It was there, by baggage claim #3, outside of the security gate at the MSP Airport that I saw it,  the joy in my parents' eyes the moment saw my brother in the flesh for the first time in over a year.

As the escalator continued to its downward movement, I started scanning legs.  Too short.  Nope.  High heels.  Nope.  Winter boots, leggings.  Nope and nope.  And then they appeared - tan feet in a set of wore flip flops with a set of hairy legs attached.  Josh slowly rode the escalator down as I notified my parents of his arrival and then as they both turned around you could feel the exhale, the exhale of year's worth of concern and curiosity followed by the inhale of pure joy.  Their son was home.

The questions and hugs came fast and hard - How was the flight? Are you hungry? Aren't you cold?!?!  My brother answered them all as we worked our way out of the airport and towards the parking ramp.  It was at the ramp that reality set in - my brother had traveled for several hours in his flip flops and shorts to arrive in a state were the current temperature was a balmy 25 degrees.  As we huddled into the car, blasting the seat warmers, we continued to learn about his travels, his new love for Vietnamese coffee, and his teaching aventures in Vietnam.  As the wheels of the car turned on those chilly Minnesota roads, so did the chatter and the excitement to have our entire family in one car, in the same state, and in the same moment of joy.

As we arrived back in Royalton and unloaded our bodies and filed into our childhood home, I found myself letting it sink in.  The joy that comes from being around those who you have grown in front of, who have seen you at the your best and at your worst and still believe in you, who help you to find your breath and push on.  My family does this to greatest extent and to be surrounded by all of them only reminded me of how important family truly is in this life.  For better or worse, they are there and in their most authentic form.  There will be, and have been, days where you truly do not appreciate them, or their opinions, but they are family, so you listen.  Then there are days where you finally get it and see what they were trying to teach and share with you.  The understanding to live life to the fullest, to push yourself, to believe in yourself and to always be on the lookout for that moment of pure joy.      

            

Divorce

Well it is officially over.  I signed my last paper, transferred my last check.  One year later, to the day, it is officially over.  We are divorced. 

One year ago this past Saturday I said goodbye to my employer of over six years and it was the hardest thing I ever done.  And now, as I signed my final financial documents, I no longer have any legal ties to the organization.  I didn't think these final signatures would cause so many emotions to fill inside my body.  Six years and it was all done with the stroke of the pen in my financial planner's office.  Divorced. 

I have never been married and my longest relationship was two years when I was in college, so I have no idea what a divorce is like or the tole it takes on a person and a relationship.  But after this I think I might have a better idea.  While so many of my friends were off falling in love with their spouses, I was falling in love with my job.  The ways it made me feel loved, empowered and cared about.  Of course there were days were it frustrated me and made me want to give up on it, but at the end of the day it filled my heart with bliss, that is until it didn't.  I wanted more, and it wasn't ready to give that to me and instead it started taking more from me.  My energy, my passion, my drive, my stomach lining - more of it was being taken and not replaced.  This was starting to hurt. 

And then came the phone call - it was over.  I had been replaced and wasn't willing to move into the role that wanted me in.  I wanted to grow and they just wanted me to sit sill and I wasn't willing to do that.  After six weeks of transition and planning, the end was beginning - lots of paperwork, medical plans, moving plans, and therapy sessions.  Finally my last day came, my last day in my home - my home where I met so many amazing people who quickly turned in my family.  From Alaskans to Iowans, from the young and the old - so many faces.  So much passion and drive for one mission.  I spent that last day alone in my office and quietly packed up my laptop and locked up one last time.  It was over.

That night was a blur.  Thanks to my friend Eric it was not spent alone, but beside a great friend as we spent an amazing night venturing through Illionis, Wisconsin, and Iowa.  That night was one of my favorites, but the morning after, the hangover of everything sank in.  I was unemployed and moving into my parents' basement.  Just like any other divorce, I wasn't sure what life would be like on my own, but I had to hold onto the belief that this would work out.  Slowly I picked myself up that morning and started working on my hangover and getting my new life started.  Piece by piece. 
And now, well now it is a year later.  I found a new work relationship that I am still working on and seeing how it fits into my life.  I have started to figure out what I want in my work-life and what I don't want.  I am still afraid to fall in love with my work again, afraid of getting hurt or disappointing someone else.  But I am trying to believe, trying to believe that there is life after love.  Life after divorce. 

The Color of Confidence

As I made my way around Kohl's, month or so ago, I found myself lost in the shoe section.  I wasn't looking for anything particular, just looking.  And then I saw them, these cute maroon flats with metallic accents, size 10, and (be still my heart) on sale for $6!  I wasn't sure they were exactly my style, as they were a color that wasn't black or grey, and the metallic cutouts and strap made me nervous.  I thought I liked them, but would others?  But, com'on they are ONLY $6...  Arg.  Just buy them.

I cautiously put my new kicks on as I got dressed for work.  I looked at them in the mirror still unsure about my decision.  I like them...I think.  I made my way down the hall at the Foundation, and received my first positive comment on them.  As I mentioned, me not wearing a black or grey shoe is a pretty big deal around here.  Based on the positive feedback I decided to wear the shoes to an event outside of work.  Again, received some positive feedback.  But I still wasn't sure.  Not everyone said anything about my new shoe choice.  Did they think it was a bad idea?  

When it comes confidence I am always amazed at my ability to question everything.  Positive feedback goes in one ear and out the other, but negative feedback or lack of feedback sticks to my ribs.  I replay the comments and think about things I could have done differently over and over in my head.  Or I analyze situations where I didn't receive any feedback and assumed that what I did was so bad I left that person speechless.  Arg.  I am know I have a backbone somewhere in this body of mine, where did it go?

Recently I have gone searching for my MIA backbone.  The same backbone that pushed me to uproot myself and move myself to Alaska, Iowa, and Minnesota.  The same backbone that yelled, "Suck it up, you can do this" when I wanted to quit time after time.  The backbone that holds me up straight and points in the right direction time after time.  I know it is in me, but I have been having issues finding it again.

Then I was asked the question - what would it take for you to feel confident?  More education?  More experience?  More makeup?  Better shoes?  Name it.  What do you need?  My answer - I honestly didn't know what I needed.  And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that my backbone never left me, but instead I had started to doubt it.  I questioned its actions and decisions which caused me to lose confidence.  

So recently I started to listen to it again and suddenly I felt myself start to straighten up and feel strong again.  I realized the only thing keeping me from feeling confident was me and I needed to change that.  So I tried to relish in the positive feedback and build off the negative instead of the other way around.  I tried to forget the doubters and thrive off of those who believed in me.  I needed to remember that just because someone said no before doesn't mean everyone will say no.  But most of all, I needed to believe in me again.  

Before I use to love the world "hope."  It was a big part of my work life and loved the idea of never losing hope.  But during a recent trip to Dubuque, I saw these cute little necklaces with single words on them.  So I went on the hunt for hope, and I came up with believe.  I thought, "Well that is cute.  Sure why not."  It wasn't until I looked at my myself in the mirror that I knew I needed to move from hoping to believing.  To believe in myself and all that I know I am capable of.  I can't continue to hope that I will great, I needed to believe it.  To move from passive to aggressive.  To truly believe. 

So as I put the little maroon shoes back into my closet, I left them with a promise to wear them more.  To trust myself, to take more risks, and to believe in my backbone again.  After all it got me this far and I am still upright.       

Baking with Grandma

I am not a great baker - the measuring, the mixing, the precision.  It is not what I do best in the kitchen but every once in awhile I feel the need to crack out my Kitchen Aid and spin up something sweet.  And every single time it never turns out quite like it is suppose to - too much peanut butter, not enough eggs.  What do you mean baking soda and baking powder are not the same?  And as much as I enjoy something freshly baked from my kitchen, it isn't the main reason I feel the need to fire up the mixer and let the dough fly.

You see it has to do with my Kitchen Aid.  The same Kitchen Aid that rides shotgun whenever I move to a new home.  The one with the random stains and small dents in the bowl.  The Kitchen Aid that I will never replace no matter how much nicer and prettier the new versions are, because you see this specific mixer does more than whip up frosting and cookies, it reminds me of someone I loved to cook with - my grandma Goedderz.

My grandma passed away unexpectantly when I was 21.  I was a senior at Waldorf and an intern for the American Cancer Society when I received the call that grandma was being air lifted to the hospital after an aneurysm had formed in her brain.  It was while I was delivering those sunny daffodils that my grandma left us.  I felt like a piece of my whole being had left me that day, sadness and tears came days later as it all set in, after I lost my biggest cheerleader.  

Less than a year later, Grandpa Goedderz joined my grandma, and my dad and his siblings were left to sort through years of memories, jars of screws and nuts, and many kitchen appliances among so much more.  I was blessed to be able to received some of my grandmother's rosaries, her Blessed Mary pin and her Kitchen Aid.  I was living in Alaska by then, so my mother took dear care of the Kitchen Aid and when I moved to Iowa, almost a year later, it was one of the first items that found its way into my cupboard.  

It is days much like today that I like to bake with my grandma.  Days when I miss her the most or reminded of her passing.  Days when people in my life have to go through the same pain that I went through over seven years ago.  The pain of saying goodbye.  Days when you gain the knowledge that life isn't fair and it never makes sense as to when, where, and why.  Days when your memories become so much more important.  Memories of birthday mornings filled with the sweet singing of "Happy birthday to you," the taste of honey and peanut butter sandwiches, and the smell of dill and vinegar.  Memories of a mixer spinning together flour, sugar, eggs, and milk perfectly together to start what would soon be a sweet pan of potica. 

Now I never know what I truly believe as to what happens after we say our final goodbye, but I do believe that my grandma still bakes with me.  And not only does she bake but she also joins me on my journeys by land and by plane.  She has saved me from a car accident or two and reminded me to slow down and enjoy the ride.  She has never left my side or fades very far from my mind especially now being back in the Brainerd area, the same place I would travel several times a year to visit her home just outside of Crosby.  The little green house surrounded by lilacs and chokecherry trees.  The original home of my Kitchen Aid.         

Relays Of Yesteryear

This past fall I made one of the hardest decision I have yet to make - I walked away from Relay.  This is my first summer not scheduling trips around opening ceremonies and not waking up with a Relay hangover that could kill a rhino.  My first summer without purple.

 

First Relay in Alaska!

Relay For Life was not only my passion - it was my job.  I lived, breathed, died purple.  The adrenaline rush that I would get the night before checking weather reports, running donation strips, and counting teams would feed my ego and my desire to succeed.  I loved the high I would get the day of the event - meeting so many new people, working side by side with my volunteers, and running around putting out an little fires that may pop up (figurative fires and real ones - luminaria bags and flames don't always play nice).  And then as darkness would fall, I would relish in the glow of the luminaria bags and be reminded why every year I do this over and over again.  Every year but this year.

Uncle Leo and Marjean 

It is Relay season once again and I find myself missing my Relay family.  From my crazy uncles and aunts to my favorite cousins - all of my Relay coworkers and volunteers made my Relay world a wonderful one for so long.  All of the friends I have made because of Relays - so many of my closest friends were coworkers and volunteers first and became amazing friends that  I cherish everyday.

But as many things in life, there were the downfalls - the stress of trying to make a fundraising goal in a bad economy.  Dealing with mother nature - ps she ALWAYS wins.  Dealing with people who made you feel like you were horrible at this.  Remembering that this was my job and how the weekend went dictated how Monday morning would go. The negatives could really wear a girl down, but then like clockwork I would see a luminaria bag or my favorite volunteer smiling and boom - I was back up!  I would feed off of the energy of the hundreds of people who had come out to support the fight again cancer.  A fight I still support today.

Adam and Amanda after our 8 hour Relay Roadtrip!

So as another season of Relay kicks off, I find myself at an odd crossroads.  On one hand I am happy to have so many of my summer weekends back and am in love with my new job, but on the other I find myself missing my purple people.  All of the memories from the last six years of Relay in Alaska, North Iowa and Eastern Iowa seem to flood over me at once.  From silent auction battles; misspelled t-shirts; rain, tornadoes and 105 head indexes, every Relay told a story and gave me a reason to love my job.

So for those of you will be venturing out to Relay For Life event this summer - thank you.  Thank you for continuing to support a cause that, even though it is going through some growing pains at the moment, is a cause that still matters and is still making a difference.  Cancer still is a very ugly word in my world and one that causes so much pain, but those of you who Relay, you truly are helping to ease that pain.  Continue to walk, continue to rock your purple, and continue to fight.  And while I miss my old Relay Staff Partner life, a life filled with Relay yard signs, purple tablecloths and a belly that was constantly filled with walking tacos, I know that now I get to start a new Relay life as a volunteer and donor.

My first Relay ever!  Mason City - 2007

To those who I met because of Relay - thank you.  Thank you for volunteering and playing such an amazing role in my life, you truly will never know how much I love you.  And to my fellow staff partners - I miss you everyday and think of you often during this time of year - you are truly the glue behind this event.



Finish the fight.    

Relay For Life of Jones County - Luminaria Ceremony 2013