Family

Holy Week

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

I had a rare opportunity to begin Holy Week in Espana. I went to Mass at the Cathedral de Santa Maria la Real de La Almudena in Madrid yesterday for Domingo de las Palmas Misa. In English that means I went to the Cathedral in Madrid for Palm Sunday Mass. I love architecture and history and this place has both. It took over 100 years to build the cathedral. It’s adjacent to the Royal Palace. It is apparently built over a Moorish mosque that was destroyed in 1085. As early as the 1500’s plans were discussed for building a cathedral in Madrid. Construction didn’t actually begin until 1879 and due to the Spanish Civil War the project was abandoned until the 1950’s. The cathedral is very modern in European terms – Pope John Paul II dedicated it in 1993. It has a Neo-Gothic interior and Neo-Romanesque crypt. It is an amazing structure. The way the light filled the space seemed truly divine.
As beautiful as the building is, what actually made my experience so memorable was the excitement of the people. We began with a procession outdoors in the vast courtyard between the Royal Palace and the Cathedral. The clergy and dignitaries were carrying palms but most of us in attendance had bunches of olive branches mixed with Rosa Maria (rosemary). I suppose it’s fitting that we were waving olive branches in Spain; you see olive orchards from central Spain to the coast when traveling by train. The music was being broadcast outdoors and it filled the courtyard and beyond – all the way to Plaza de Espana. I felt as if I was being lifted up by the voices in the choir. The atmosphere was truly celebratory.

HOSANNA A NUESTRO REY! HOSANNA EN LAS ALTURAS!

Of course I was only able to understand a little of what was being said during Mass but because our Church is truly universal I knew that my friends and family were listening to the same Passion account in my parish at home. And I was able to understand many parts of the Mass (if not all of the words). It’s amazing this faith of us ours – ancient yet new; timeless yet present. I took tremendous joy today in knowing that millions of Catholics (and other Christians) were celebrating Christ’s triumphant journey into Jerusalem in much the same way. The fact that I was celebrating in Spanish made it all the more special. It made me realize that in French or German or Spanish or English; whatever language that faith-filled people speak the message is the same:

The crowds preceding him and those following
kept crying out and saying:
“Hosanna to the Son of David;
blessed is the he who comes in the name of the Lord;
hosanna in the highest.”

What I’m reminded of again this Holy Week is that Jesus died for our sins – it’s easy to think of our collective sinfulness and of Christ’s saving grace. What’s harder for me to wrap my head (and heart) around is the fact that He died for the sins I committed today and will likely commit tomorrow. His death and suffering was for you and me. He wasn’t crucified just for those who lived 2000 years ago. His sacrifice is as real today as it was on Calvary. How we embrace it and reconcile ourselves to His unconditional love is entirely up to us.

Wishing you each a peace-filled and blessed Holy Week. May you find the comfort this Easter Season that only our Savior can bring.

Peace,

Denis

Birthday Party!

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Three is BIG (sort of)!

Today is THE DAY. It’s Birthday Party Day! Granddaughter Anna turned 3 on Thursday and this afternoon she’s having HER BIG PARTY. Three year-old birthday parties are big stuff – there’ll be cake and ice cream and ‘themed’ decorations. Anna’s cousins and friends will be there as well as Aunt’s and Uncles and Grandparents. And in the middle of it all there will be this tiny three year-old wielding her “Birthday Power”. It’s mystical! When it’s your birthday you reign supreme – at least when you’re three! I’m not sure that she understands that this party is all for her. On Thursday when I said to her, “Happy Birthday Anna”, her response was, “Happy Birthday Pawpaw!” But I have a feeling by the end of the day she’ll have it figured out. After heavy doses of sugar and lots of presents and having her picture taken a thousand times, she’ll be likely be ‘channeling’ Shirley Temple in “The Little Princess”. Entitled but benevolent ~ gifted yet gracious.

Oh Anna, how did you get to be a big girl so fast? It seems like just yesterday I was holding you for the first time in the hospital and now you’re three! But even though three is BIG; as you yourself explained it, “Pawpaw I’m still a little girl and sometimes little girls like to be carried and sometimes they like to walk.” So I’m going to ‘carry you’ as long as you’ll let me. In my heart you will always be that tiny baby girl in my arms (just like your Mommy is) and I will cherish that memory forever. So go ahead and get BIG and be everything that you are meant to be. I’ll be standing here on the side-lines watching and trying to capture each precious moment as it passes by. You’ll ALWAYS be my girl and I’ll always be your Pawpaw.

So LET’S GET THE PARTY STARTED! And if sometime during your BIG DAY you need to be ‘carried’, I’ll be waiting here with open arms.

Happy Birthday!

Love,
Pawpaw

Sharing Girl Stuff

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On Sunday evening, my granddaughter Anna told me, “Nana and I share girl stuff”. I’m not sure exactly what she meant but I have a pretty good idea. On Saturday her Nana (my Debbie) bought her a pink tutu and ballet slippers. And on Sunday morning they made pancakes together – Anna knows all the rules of Nana’s kitchen – “we wash hands first, Pawpaw!” Plus later, on Sunday afternoon Nana painted Anna’s toenails red. So I suspect all of that stuff that they shared was “girl stuff”. So grandmothers and granddaughters share girl stuff and so much more. What a blessing for all.

Debbie had a grandmother that she loved dearly and her Mimi loved her. Mimi would take time with her just like Deb now takes time with our granddaughters Charlise and Anna. Debbie fondly remembers how she and Mimi shared girl stuff, too. And I know that Deb must feel Mimi’s spirit smiling down on them during those special times when she and our granddaughters are together now.

Six-year old Charlise loves spending time at Nana’s house. She actually calls it Nana’s house (as if I’m a boarder only allowed to live here out of Nana’s enormous generosity). There are always favorite foods and special meals. Always special things to do and special places to go. Nana makes certain that Charlise’s weekends at Nana’s house are always fun! They bake cookies together and there’s popcorn and “movie night”. And I get to join in the fun sometimes, too. But the “girl stuff” is just for them. And I believe that’s the way it should be.

Now (almost) three-year old Anna will tell you that she’s Pawpaw’s girl but everyone knows that she’s Nana’s shadow. Not only does she act like Deb but she mimics her every move. If they’re cooking together, Anna will take notice so as to stir and mix in her ingredients in the exact same manner that Nana does. If they’re signing together, Anna will finish the words of the songs that Deb is singing. And she even plays with Deb’s stupid little dogs – one of the reasons that I still haven’t called the animal shelter for a pick-up. She even loves feeding those dumb dogs.

Nana's Girls

So Nana and her girls “share girl stuff”. And it’s really nothing new. I suppose grandmothers and granddaughters have been sharing time together since life began. But what makes it special isn’t what they do – what makes it “sharing girl stuff” is the intrinsic bond that grandmothers and their granddaughters have. There is something almost primal in their need to bridge the generations. Granddaughters learn about tradition and grandmothers get to glimpse and help shape the future. It’s their legacy.

And grandfathers? Well we get to marvel at the wonder of it all.

Peace,

Denis

Homebody

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

I’ve always been confused by the saying “familiarity breeds contempt”. I’m home after two weeks of traveling – first to Mexico City and then to Madrid and I’m very happy to experience ‘the familiar’. Don’t misunderstand me, I love to travel and even when things don’t go swimmingly (thanks JFK Air Traffic Controllers for the nearly two-hour delay after an already long day of traveling from Spain!) I still consider travel a bit of perk with my job. But more wonderful than experiencing new people and new places is the joy and comfort of coming home. Home is where my life is.

There’s something about this house that just embraces me when I’ve been gone for a while; it puts everything right. I know it’s not the house actually. It’s the home. It’s the love. It’s the family. It’s what helps define me.

I love coming home to Deb. I love catching up on everything that’s happened in my absence – hearing about the latest things that Anna has said and finding out what Noah’s now doing and what’s going on in Charlise’s ever-expanding world of ‘big girl’ school. I realize everything’s not in ‘freeze-frame’ while I’m gone but sometimes I wish it were. I’ll catch up on what’s going with our folks and hear about a friend’s visit and a family funeral that Deb attended in my absence. Life goes on…

My Office. My Home. My Place.

This morning I’m up early, because of jet-lag I suppose, and I’m wearing my ‘favorite shirt’ and I’m about to have some blessed ‘American Coffee’ (no cafe con leche, por favor) in my favorite coffee mug and allow the day to unfold in its normal ‘familiar’ way. And I will relish the experience.

At heart I’m just a Midwestern boy. I miss country music and black coffee and small town gossip. I want to travel to castles and palaces. I want to see ancient artifacts and historically significant places. But more than anything I just want to come home. I guess that makes me a homebody and that suits me just fine!

“Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home”.

Peace,
Denis

Remember When…?

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Remember when Valentine’s Day was Saint Valentine’s Day?

According to legend and some archeological evidence, Valentinus was a Roman priest martyred in 269 for marrying Christian couples. While awaiting his execution, he penned a farewell note to the jailer’s daughter, signing it, “From your Valentine.”

He is the Patron Saint of greetings, young people, love, engaged couples, and happy marriages. He is also the Patron Saint of fainting, epilepsy, plague, bee keepers and travelers.

Funny how Hallmark® has focused on just the love and greetings business.  I guess there’s not much of a market for fainting or plague cards anymore. Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time that I celebrated bee keeping either. So Saint Valentine the man has been forgotten or has been replaced by Cupid I suppose. But when I was a kid we still called it Saint Valentine’s Day and I guess I’m feeling a little nostalgic (or old) today.

I love history and I think it’s important for people (my kids and grandkids anyway) to know how things came to be. Growing up I told my children that EVERYTHING has a history (I can see their eyes rolling now). But it is important and I usually start with our family.

Like many Americans our family originated in Europe. On my mom’s side the journey from France included a time in Canada until those madcap fur traders decided to make the journey down the mighty Mississippi to settle here in the midwest. My French Canadian ancestors can be traced back to some of the earliest residents of our hometown. On dad’s side our German ancestors came to America about a hundred years later. Dad likes to say the Germans came over to clean up the mess that the French had made (that joke never gets old – I suppose my eyes are rolling now).

Things are a little murkier on my wife’s side of the family. Some Scottish and English ancestry and maybe Dutch. More importantly her great-grandmother was Native American – Choctaw I think. As best as we can tell some of her people were likely forced to march the “Trail of Tears” and settle in Oklahoma (shame on you Andrew Jackson!)

Every family has a history. Every town has a history. Every nation. Why is it important? Why must we remember? I think because we owe to those that have come before us. I think we honor the “saints” in our own families when we simply remember them. We’re here because of them – because of their search for a better life; because of their need to be free of religious or political persecution; because of their adventurous spirits; or simply because they “came along for the ride” on the ship or wagon or canoe. Some of our ancestors came here because they felt they had no other choice escaping famine or debtors prisons.  Some literally had no choice: shackled as the property of others. Some of their stories are heartbreaking. Some are heartwarming. Some are awe-inspiring. But they should all be told. Their stories are our stories.

Tell your stories (ignore the eye rolling) and honor your history and your people.

Peace,

Denis

Thankful

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It’s December 26th and I’m thankful for another beautiful Christmas. I’m a little sad that it’s past but thankful, too – no more rushing around trying to get things ready or keep things moving. Now I can just savor the memories of the last few days and look forward to some future memories, too. This morning I’m thankful for so much. So in no particular order ~ here’s what I’m thanking God for today:

Deb whose love embraces our whole family (especially during the holiday) ~ you are my Christmas angel.

Snow that fell on Christmas Eve (all 2-1/2″ of it) that helped our son-in-law Travis relive happy childhood memories of snowy Christmases in Wisconsin.

Skype (that mystery in our computer) that allowed us to have Tyson “with us” for a while on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day even though he’s in Korea and lives 15 hours in the future. Stay safe Master Sergeant Bubby!

Anna in her “Christmas Princess Party Costume” AKA her Christmas dress because she kept asking to go “Trick or Treating” ~ I love 2 year-olds!

Charlise who was “playing piano” at her Great Aunt’s house in California when we spoke with her last night ~ her giggles were pure joy!

Noah with his sweet smile and little baby laugh ~ my sweet boy!

Noah and Pawpaw

Christmas Cookies (that Deb and Bess baked) and Egg Nog…

Bess who hosted the family gathering yesterday and was giving out orders while nursing Noah and wearing a shower cap because she’s a real multi-tasker. (Sorry Bess but that just had to make the blog!)

Blake because he managed to stay awake all day even though he’d only had about 3 hours sleep on Christmas Eve and an early flight to St. Louis on Christmas morning.

American Airlines for getting Blake here on time yesterday.

The Love that I received from my family and my new wool sweater that’s keeping warm this morning.

Time to share with family and friends and time to be thankful for both.

Hope you have time today to give thanks for your blessings today, too.

Peace,

Denis

All I Want For Christmas…

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments
On Christmas Eve 1985 our daughter Bess was 5 years old.  Everything was ready for Christmas – cookies baked, meals planned, tree trimmed, gifts wrapped (or hidden until Santa could deliver them).  We were having breakfast, we five: Deb, Tyson 7, Bess 5, Blake 2, and me.  At 7:00 am it was just a nice quiet, peaceful morning before the onslaught of Christmas-palooza (when you have 3 kids aged seven and younger Christmas Eve gets a little bit crazy – the anticipation, the sugar, the last-minute details). So a calm quiet breakfast was just what our little family needed.  We could ease into the day.  Or so I thought. Then Bess (with her sweet little sleepy-voice) said, “I don’t care if Santa doesn’t bring me anything else, as long as I get REAL BABY® WITH HER EYES OPEN”

With that announcement everything changed!  WHAT???  When did she tell us about ‘Real Baby’?  How did we miss that?  Of course I knew then what I had to do. Every daddy knows that you MUST FIND ‘Real Baby’ or destroy your little girl’s Christmas dreams. And so the search began…

Hasbro® REAL BABY WITH HER EYES OPEN

I know this sounds like a sitcom and maybe it could have been but it really happened and it wasn’t funny then. The morning of December 24, 1985 became panic-filled.  I jumped into my 1977 Ford Pinto and away I went. This was before the days of cell phones, so I took a handful of change to call home from pay phones (remember those?). I started out looking in the stores nearby – Venture (remember those?), Target, Sears, and then I fanned out to – more Venture Stores, more Targets, Toys-R-Us, Wal-Mart, Famous-Barr (another blast from the past), JC Penney, Woolworth’s – you name it; I tried it.  I could find ‘Real Baby With Her Eyes Closed’ (which kind of looked like a scary dead baby) but EVERYONE was sold out of ‘Real Baby With Her Eyes Open’. After each failed attempt to find ‘Real Baby’ I called home with the grim news – no baby. What was I going to do? How was I going to deal with disappointing my little girl on Christmas morning?

After spending nearly the entire day searching for a doll that I was certain could not be found, I finally admitted defeat.  I was heading home around 4:00 pm when I decided to give it one last try.  There was (and still is) a K-Mart Store west of where we lived and I thought “what the heck” it’s worth one more try. Still in my heart I knew it was foolish.

But when I walked into the Toy Department there she was – perched on the shelf like an angel. I really thought that the fatigue had gotten to me and that I was just ‘seeing things’ but there she was, all by herself, ‘Real Baby With Her Eyes Open’!  Only God knows why the most popular doll of 1985 would still be sitting on K-Mart’s shelf on Christmas Eve.  Maybe it was just my own little Christmas miracle.  I know I had tears in my eyes walking to the checkout counter – again maybe that was just the fatigue.

Needless to say, Bess was very excited the next morning and she LOVED ‘Real Baby’ and she said, “I knew that Santa would bring her to me!”  More tears…

That doll is still in a box in our basement today.  Her hair is a little ‘jacked-up’ because she was loved so much.  Bess carried her around like a real baby for years (hence the name) and I never regretted or will I forget the crazy Christmas Eve that made it all possible.

I hope each of is blessed with your own Christmas miracle this year.

Peace,

Denis

 
 

Could you say no to this face?

P.S. This year Bess’s daughter Anna announced that she wanted Santa to bring her a dollhouse that we had seen about a month ago – no mention had been made of it until just last week. But not to worry – Pawpaw has located one (the last one again) and all is well. I guess the apple doesn’t fall very fall from the tree ~ God, thank you for my ‘apple’ and my ‘tree’. I am twice blessed!

Have Yourself A Messy Little Christmas

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

I’ve always wanted a perfect Christmas – whatever that is. Mostly I’d be happy if the tree stood straight and if no one was sad, mad or bad. For years when asked what I’d like for Christmas my response was always the same: Clean house and good kids. Talk about your unanswered prayers!

But you know in the movie ‘White Christmas’ when it starts snowing right on cue and the walls of the barn (that has been converted into a stage) just magically open. Or like in ‘The Miracle on 34th Street’ when Natalie Wood finds the perfect house that just happens to be “for sale” and open on Christmas Day. Or when Father comes home just before Christmas in ‘Little Women’ and Marmee’s eyes fill with tears (by the way, the one with Katherine Hepburn and Spring Byington is the one to watch). I’ve always secretly wanted one of those Hollywood Christmases. One of those Christmases where EVERYONE cries and then laughs and realizes WHAT’S REALLY IMPORTANT.   

Homemade "gourd" snowmen ~ eat your heart out, Martha Stewart!

But we’ve never had any of those “cue the music” Christmas moments at our house.  Usually they’re more of the “Christmas Story” variety – cursing the neighbors’ dogs!  And too often Christmas or Christmas Eve is a little boring – same people, same gifts, same stuff. Oh the food is great and we love our family and we do try to center Christ in Christmas but sometimes it all seems a little too rote. Been there; done that.

Looking back it seems to me that our best Christmases have been the messy, unpredictable ones. And we’ve had some doozies. Like when Blake was about 3 years old and puked at my brother’s house on Christmas Eve or when Bess woke up with bronchitis on Christmas Day or the year that our car slid off the road on Christmas Eve on our way to see Aunt Marge and Grandma Hazel. Those are the memorable Christmases.  Oh, we’ve had some ‘Currier and Ives’ moments too, but mostly the messy Christmases have been our best.

Scooping up poor little sick Blake (and wiping up vomit) may not make a pretty Christmas card but getting him home and tucked into bed and praying at his bedside that he would be well enough for Santa the next morning is still a favorite memory.  Bringing Bess a cup of tea and a few sugar cookies in bed while she was recuperating from bronchitis still makes me a little sentimental – she was too sick to do anything but hold her new baby doll but still she managed a smile that broke my heart. Or the year that we went to midnight Mass and some drunken guy started crying because he hadn’t been to church in years – and we witnessed his ‘conversion moment’. I felt like a jerk for having grumbled under my breath earlier to Deb about “this guy behind us”. 

God certainly had a hand in all of this. And I guess the first Christmas was a pretty humble occasion. So why do I need a perfect Christmas anyway? Besides I think those messy ones have been perfect – perfected by Christ.

So this year I’ll plan for another beautiful Christmas but I hope to remember to thank God for the one that I get. And if I’m truly blessed it may be a little bit messy. Hope yours is too!

Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel, which means “God is with us.” Matthew 1:23

Peace,

Denis

Have An Adventure But Don’t Forget To Wear Your Seatbelt

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

Being a parent is sort of like being a high wire trapeze artist.  One wrong move and you’re a goner!

Being a good parent is even harder. The challenge: you love your children with all your heart but sometimes you must suppress the urge to kill them. Good parents have learned how to do this.

Don’t get me wrong; being a dad has been my greatest blessing in this life.  And being a granddad is just ‘icing on the cake’. It’s just that sometimes it’s maddening. There is no instruction manual and kids have no warranty and the return policy is practically non-existent. But still parenthood remains the most rewarding experience in life.

Here’s why: Sometimes they love you back! It’s that simple. Your kid can grow up to be a president or a pimp but if they love you then you know that somewhere along the line you must have done something right.

Deb and I raised our kids with one philosophy – “What in hell are we doing?”  We really had no clue (I still don’t) but we just loved them and somehow muddled through.  So far not one of them is a serial killer or has written a ‘tell-all’ tale about their childhood; so we must have done (sort of) okay.

I think that there are basically two parenting styles:

The first one is what I call “The Helicopter-Science Project Parent”. These are the folks that are constantly hovering over their kids. They do EVERYTHING for the little darlings. They check their homework each night; they make sure that junior has all the right friends and monitor ALL activity. They keep their little loved ones on a pretty tight leash. And of course as the name implies – they actually build that amazing ‘Science Fair Volcano’ that junior takes credit (and the blue ribbon) for. These kids likely get in the best schools and live lives that their parents are proud of but they seem sad and stifled and will certainly have a mid-life crisis.

The second style is what I call “This Seems like a Good Idea Today”.  I think most of us fall into this category.  I know we certainly did. We tried to let our kids make their own mistakes (we’d already made enough of our own) and learn from them. We tried to be supportive and ALWAYS encouraged our kids to take risks within reason.  Our mantra was “You are only limited by your imagination” but in reality we subscribed more to the theory of “Have an adventure but don’t forget to wear your seatbelt”. It’s hard to push those ‘baby birds’ out of the nest but somehow we knew that would be for the best – even when sometimes we were hanging on for dear life (ours not theirs).

And those science projects?  They were awful!

Looking back I wouldn’t change a thing (except for maybe that time when I made Blake’s teacher cry at ‘Parent-Teacher Conferences’ even though she had it coming!) Giving your kids freedom means they are more likely to “mess up” but more opportunity equals more potential. I’ll take a little craziness any day over boring and bland. Oh, and love! Love is important – don’t forget to love your kids, especially when they are at their least lovable. And pray – even if you’re just asking for God to help you not kill them.

Hallmark® that purveyor of profundity sells a wall hanging that Deb purchased when our granddaughter Anna was born.  It now hangs in her bedroom.  And even though I don’t usually like schmaltzy stuff; I love this plaque.

It states:

IN THIS HOME…

WE DO SECOND CHANCES.

WE DO GRACE.

WE DO REAL.

WE DO MISTAKES.

WE DO I’M SORRYS.

WE DO LOUD REALLY WELL.

WE DO HUGS.

WE DO FAMILY.

WE DO LOVE.

How about that for a parenting philosophy?  And don’t forget to wear your seatbelt!

Peace,

Denis

Patience (or lack thereof)

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During the four weeks of Advent we are supposed to be waiting for Jesus.  But we are busy.  We are shopping.  We are baking.  We are traveling.  We are entertaining.  We are wrapping gifts and trimming the tree.  All in anticipation of Christmas – Christ’s Mass.  We celebrate the birth of Jesus on December 25th but do we miss out on the beauty of our Savior’s birth with all our “busy-ness”?  Do we need to quiet ourselves and listen for His voice? 

I personally need to be patient with myself.  This is my annual struggle of wanting the “perfect Christmas” and not being able to let go so that I can be perfected by Christ.  

My need to do it all; to have it all is exhausting.  So again this year I’m going to let go (or at least try to let go) of my need to micro-manage Christmas.  All I ask for is your patience, too.  Be patient with me if you don’t receive a Christmas card until December 26th or 27th.  Be patient with me if I don’t seem “cheerful” enough during our holiday gatherings – I’ll get there.  Be patient with me if I don’t have the house decorated well enough or if your gift seems hurriedly wrapped. 

This year I’m going to hold my grandbabies and try to sing Christmas carols.  This year I’m going to try to read ALL of the holiday newsletters and Christmas greetings the day that they come in the mail.  This year I’m going to try to take my time with those who need me to slow down and REALLY listen to them. 

I’m praying for patience and waiting for another Christmas miracle. 

Who knows – I might be blessed with patience yet!

Peace,

Denis

Be patient, brothers and sisters,
until the coming of the Lord.
See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth,
being patient with it
until it receives the early and the late rains.
You too must be patient.
Make your hearts firm,
because the coming of the Lord is at hand.

James 5:7-8