Family

Letting Go

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

Yesterday there was a memorial service for my cousin Jerry. Jerry was only 63 years old and died of a massive stroke a week before. At the visitation his siblings appeared shell-shocked. And rightly so; just two weeks ago we were all together at a family reunion and Jerry seemed the epitome of health and fitness. At the reunion Jerry and I talked about how nice it was to be together as a family at something other than a funeral. Two weeks ago…

And now here we are at his memorial and it just seems surreal. Earlier this year Jerry suffered the loss of his daughter Jennifer. She was only 30 years old. One of his sisters suggested that perhaps he hadn’t recovered from his broken heart but I doubt that caused his stroke. Still I wonder??? And at the service yesterday I couldn’t help but imagine the pain his wife Susan and surviving daughter Alison were now bearing; not to mention his  mother, sisters, and brothers. I’m ashamed to admit that I have this perverse habit at funerals of imagining myself in the grieving parties place -maybe others do it, too. I wonder how I would feel if it was Deb (or God forbid one of our kids)? How could I go on without her (them)? The pain and sorrow seem insurmountable.

But somehow we manage. We human beings are a pretty resilient species. Somehow we put one foot in front of the other and carry on. We grieve. We cry. But we live on. We must learn to let go.

Let go! How many times have I been told to just “let go”? Let go of anger. Let go of pettiness. Let go of jealousy. Let go of pride. It’s not easy. But letting go of  “bad things” is easier than letting go of the “good stuff”. But we must do that too. 

Letting go of Tyson when he left for the Air Force was difficult; I drove home alone with my heart breaking and tears streaming. Letting go of Bess after we delivered her to her dorm in Madison was painful; Deb and I rode home in silence, neither of us able to look at the other. On Bess’s wedding day I felt I was letting go of my little girl but I knew she would never leave me (not really). Moving back to Missouri and leaving Blake in Wisconsin at the University; feeling certain he felt abandoned (and feeling guilty and sad all at once), that was tough. But during those times of “letting go” we knew that we would be together again. Even when Tyson was deployed to Iraq we somehow knew our prayers would be answered and he would “come home”. But death – the final surrender. How do we let go? And yet I know that we have no choice. It will happen to each of us.

Yesterday one of the ministers that spoke at Jerry’s service said we all have a God-sized hole in our hearts and when we get to heaven it is filled. Maybe we needed to let go of Jerry so he could have his heart filled but it seems to me that his loved ones had the holes in their hearts made larger by his loss. Still it’s comforting to think about Jerry with his trademark smile enjoying a beautiful eternity with his daughter Jennifer and his dad, my Uncle Les.

But God if you’re listening (and I know that you always are) I’m not really ready to let go and I imagine that Jerry wasn’t either.

Peace,

Denis

Thirteen Children and then some…

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When I tell people that my mom is the 12th of 13 children I usually get one of two responses. The first one (and most likely) is: Wow! Are you serious? The second response, which never ceases to amaze me, is often something along the lines of “my mom (or dad) was one of 14 (or 15 etc.)” or “I knew somebody that came from a family of fifteen (or twenty)”. You get the idea. Maybe it’s true but it always seems a little doubtful. I think some people like to ‘one-up’. I just smile and say, “Oh, that is a big family”. What I want to say is, “Well okay then you win” “Just for the record, it was never a contest!” “And besides, even if your family is bigger it’s not better than ours!”

Mom is now 82 and is one of the ‘little girls’ – her younger sister is 81. All six of her brothers have passed away and three of her sisters are gone now, too. She and my dad are the only couple left in her generation. Her surviving sisters are: two widows and a nun. She also has two widowed sisters-in-law. Being one of the youngest in a large family has many blessings but watching your siblings die one by one is extremely difficult. We have spent the last few years attending a succession of funerals. With each loss Mom confronts her own mortality again.

Yesterday was a happy family gathering: a reunion. The Moellering Family hadn’t had a reunion in 10 years (not counting aforementioned funerals) and Mom couldn’t have been happier. Seeing Mom with her sisters and nieces and nephews made me realize how much of a Moellering that I am, too. I love our family! I’m proud to be part of this clan. We of the 13 brothers and sisters! We of the produce farmer granddad! We of the three aunts that were nuns! We, this big messy Catholic family that sometimes drinks too much, cusses and fights but always forgives and loves one another deeply. We, this fiercely proud group of hardworking, hard-headed, half-French, half-German, Midwesterners.

We are family!

Families. It’s God way of ALWAYS reminding us who we are. We will touch the future through our children and grandchildren. We continue to honor the past with our memories of those that loved us into being. We possess a unique bond with our siblings and our cousins that no one else can share. We are family. We are loved. We are Moellering!

Peace,

Denis

Small Things

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The small voice on the phone says, “When are you coming home, Pawpaw?” “I miss you.” And suddenly everything else that seemed so important falls in place behind that tiny request. The idea of “home” rushes over me and I know (once again) what is truly important in my life. “I miss you, too”. And so much more…

The small things in my life are what define me; they give me hope; they bring me joy; they “carry me home”. So tonight I am reflecting on those small things.

Coming home to supper on the stove and having the aroma of a meal prepared with love fill my soul.
The way Deb always wraps her leg around mine when she’s sleeping that lets me know that I am where I am meant to be.
Finding something everyday to laugh about (usually at myself).
A call from one of my kids just checking in, always ended with an “I love you, too”.
Bedtime stories, songs and prayers with my grandkids (just like we use to do with our own kids).
A compliment freely given.
The kindness of a friend.
A hug.
A kiss.

Mother Teresa of Calcutta said, “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.”

I like the idea of doing small things. Probably because I’m not capable of doing great things. But when I think about my life and what is most important to me it’s usually the small things. And I am blessed with a life that is filled with small things imbued with great love.

In Mitch Albom’s book “Have a Little Faith”, he recalls a conversation where he asks his Rabbi for the secret to happiness. The Rabbi’s response: “Be satisfied. Be grateful for what you have. For the love you receive. And for what God has given you.”

Satisfied. Grateful. Loved. Sounds like happiness to me. And yet, there are days when I forget (God, forgive me!) to be grateful. There are times when greed or avarice makes me completely dissatisfied with EVERYTHING with which I have been blessed. And on my darkest days I reject the love of others – too angry or proud or stubborn to accept even God’s love.

But then I get a glimpse of heaven ~ usually delivered when I least expect it. And I am reminded (once again) how precious the small things in my life truly are.

Wishing for a “small thing” to find its way to you today.

Peace,

Denis

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

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

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

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

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!