Family

Moving Across The Pond

/ Denis Wilhelm / 4 Comments

One of the things that I’ve always wanted to do is live abroad. I recently got my chance and have decided to take it. This coming January, Deb and I will be moving to Swindon, Wiltshire, U.K. for one year. I’ll be assisting with setting up my company’s new division in England. But in addition to working and living in England, we will be traveling all over Europe with my new job responsibilities. In between business meetings and touring retail developments, there should be plenty of time for castles, cathedrals, museums and the occasionl glass of wine. That’s the good news.

This will be our mantra

The bad news is that our children and grandchildren will be living in the United States. After serving six years abroad in the Air Force our son Tyson is returning stateside whilst (I’ll probably be using that word a lot in England) we’ll be living in Europe. And our grandbabies won’t be nearby (something we’ve grown accustomed to) – not to mention our daughter, son-in-law and our younger son, as well as our parents, siblings, cousins, friends, etc. If I focus on the negatives I start to question my decision. But then I remember that it’s only a year. And it’s a year in Europe!

So we will adjust, even if we shed a few tears along the way. We pray that God continues to bless our family and keep us together (even though we are apart). And as we have for the last 36+ years – Deb and I will carry one another on this journey. There has been so much racing through our heads since we made the decision to live abroad for a year : “Big things” like leaving family and friends (especially Charlise and Anna and Noah). “Little things” like not getting to watch our favorite TV shows in England. And “other things” like learning how to drive on the “wrong side” of the road.

In the meantime, we need to close up our house here and begin the search for our new home in England. Our goal is to immerse ourselves in the culture and community. We hope to live in a town or village that is primarily English – not some enclave for expatriots. We will be traveling to Swindon this fall to begin our search for housing. Fortunately, my work associate, Mark is British and has offered to help us with that task. Deb and I have lots to do and much to discover and explore. My HR Director is assisting with much of the mundane stuff – work visas, cost of living adjustments, cultural integration, etc, etc. That frees us up to do more important things like figure out where to get our hair cut and take our dry-cleaning and to look for good restaurants and pubs.

We will strive to really make England our home in 2012. Of course we hope to have lots of visitors. And we expect to make some new friends along the way, too.  Please keep us in your prayers. As always, I will share whatever and whenever I can.

Cheers,

Denis

Another Day ~ Another Miracle

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

Miracles. I was reminded yesterday that miracles happen daily. Sometimes we’re blessed to witness them from a front row seat.

My nephew Dave and his wife Laura had their first child yesterday. Logan David Wilhelm was born via emergency C-section at St. John’s Mercy Hospital in St. Louis. He weighs 2 lbs. 7 oz. and is 15-1/2” long. He was born two months early. Laura’s intuition probably saved her baby’s life. She felt that something wasn’t right and saw her doctor yesterday morning. I know that it’s true that Moms can sense their children’s needs. But this is the first time that I have witnessed it in vitro. Apparently the umbilical cord was wrapped around little Logan and was depriving him of nutrition and oxygen.

Even though Logan’s birth weight is extremely low and he was born 9 weeks early we remain very hopeful. He is receiving the best care possible in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at one of the best hospitals in the country. They have already reduced the amount of oxygen he is receiving and the doctors believe that my nephew and his wife should be able to hold him in a few days. I’m told that his Daddy’s touch already calms him!

My wife was with Laura and Dave until my brother Dave and sister-in-law Pat could arrive from Atlanta late last night. Great Aunt Debbie reports: “Logan is beautiful but very tiny.”

Logan ~ our little miracle

Not all miracles make the news and they may not affect multitudes but they are miracles none the less. Logan is already responsible for an amazing outpouring of love and kindness among our family and friends. His life has changed us all forever. And that change alone is miraculous. We have reaffirmed our love for one another and we are humbled by his birth. And we are reminded (again) that life is precious and it is truly a gift from God – never to be taken for granted.

We have every reason to believe that Logan will thrive but we also know that he has a tough road ahead. So much to ask of such a tiny little boy!

But someday, in 100 years or so, he can tell his story to his grandchildren and great-grandchildren: that with God’s grace and your prayers there once was a miracle named Logan.

Peace,

Denis

Modern Family

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

When Deb and I got married we were determined to have a ‘Modern Family’. We wouldn’t be confined to traditional roles and we would NEVER have the kind of marriage our parents had. After all, this was 1975 and times had changed and we were young and current and ready to embrace life head-on. We even toyed with the idea of me taking Deb’s last name. Instead of her becoming Deborah Wilhelm; I would become Denis Dobbs. But Debbie and Denis Dobbs sounded a little too cute. And besides we might then be inclined to name future children with double “D” names as well. Debbie and Denis and Durwood and Dolly and Dora Dobbs – yikes! Plus with brothers named Dave and Dean, I had spent my formative years being called David-Dean-Denis by my dad. So we abandoned the idea of me taking her maiden name and the ‘hyphen-thing’ (Dobbs-Wilhelm) seemed like too much trouble. Still we were convinced that we should work hard to be a couple that wouldn’t become the stereotypical husband and wife.
 
We were resolute in our desire to live equally as husband and wife. We shared the household tasks. We both worked outside the home. We had a partnership-marriage. Everything was 50-50. We made all of our decisions together. Our mantra was: Whatever we do MUST be good for both of us! There was no “me first”. I made a conscious effort to avoid terms like “the little lady” (although Deb is little and a lady) and I never expected her to sacrifice ANYTHING that she wanted for me or vice-versa. We both would bristle when people assumed that I would be the “bread winner” and she would be the content little “housewife”. Who did they think we were – June and Ward Clever???
 
Then we had children. And we adapted our ‘Modern Family’ in a way that I would have never imagined. Deb chose to work part-time and forsake a career. This was unthinkable just a few years earlier but looking at Tyson’s sweet face for the first time we knew we couldn’t place him in daycare. So we adjusted our lives accordingly. I worked days; Deb worked nights and we were blessed with a sister-in-law who would cover the overlap times (Aunt Pat is still adored by her niece and nephews). And then came Bess. And then came Blake. So we shared the load. We both changed diapers; gave baths; took turns with feedings; read bedtime stories; etc., etc.  For several years we took opposite shifts at home. Deb handled the daytime – breakfast, lunch, playtime, nap time; I took care of the nighttime – dinner, bath, bedtime stories & prayers. I believed then that my sons and daughter would benefit from having a dad that was ‘hands-on’. I still believe that today.

When I see what my son-in-law Travis does everyday for his kids and how natural Tyson is with his daughter it reminds me how much I loved those years when my children were small (even the dirty diapers). It was important for me to know that I could do it all – even though I never had to. Deb and I have a partnership. And although our goal was 50-50, anyone in a successful marriage will tell you that sometimes it’s 80-20 or 40-60. You carry your partner when you can because you know the day will come when you’ll need to be carried, too.
 
As the years flew by the children grew and jobs changed and we sort of (gasp!) fell into more traditional roles. I was on a ‘career-track’ and Deb continued to work part-time until the kids were in school. And even when she went back to work full-time her primary focus was still on the kids and the house. We had become what we were determined to avoid – TRADITIONAL.
 
But Deb loves to cook and family mealtime was important. Once our daughter pointed out that we were unusual as a family because we ate dinner together almost every night (at a table and actually speaking to one another!). We worshipped together on Sundays and prayed together at bedtime and at meals. I took care of the lawn. Deb took care of the house. From the “outside looking in” we were very much the kind of couple my parents were – except we chose our roles; they were not thrust upon us.

And that’s what makes us a ‘Modern Family’ today. I work. Deb stays home. She cooks. I eat. I mow the lawn. She cleans the house. We don’t do things this way because we’re expected to – we do things this way because we haven chosen to do things this way. We can both change our grandson’s diaper. We can both travel around the world. We can both lounge on the sofa watching football. We can both freely show emotion or wipe a tear or give a hug or speak our love.
 

The (almost) Dobbs

Today’s ‘Modern Families’ come in lots of different shapes and sizes – single parent families; same-sex couples; blended families; bi-coastal families. But love remains the same. Ultimately what role you fill or how you look to someone else doesn’t really matter. Family is where you can be you. Family is where you can refresh your soul. Family is refuge. Family is hope. Family is eternal. Family is love. I guess that’s not so modern after all.
 
God has blessed Deb and me with one another and with our beautiful children and grandchildren. Our ‘Modern Family’ might not look like the one I envisioned 36 years ago but I really like this one better. And the journey from there to here and beyond continues to be amazing…
 
Peace,
 
Denis

Letting Go

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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

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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

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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