Mommy, what do you want to be when you grow up?

I am never quite sure about mother's day. Somehow the celebration of it feels forced. While everyone has a mother, not everyone has a mom.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't want to tell my mom how much I love her or appreciate her. But I find it awfully presumptuous to think that everyone wants to honor or celebrate the person who brought them into this world.

Knowing that my mom doesn't get on Facebook, nor does she know how to get to this blog, I can safely write that while I love my mother and appreciate all that she has done for me and my family, our relationship has not been what I had hopes for. Enough said.

When I became a mother I am pretty certain that I remember looking deeply into Brenna's sleepy eyes while rocking her to sleep, whispering promises of what kind of mother I would be. I would be nothing like my own mom. In my profound and glorious wisdom I would improve greatly those areas that drove my own mother and myself apart.

Often I wonder if my mom ever made me promises of being a better mother than HER mom was to her!

Alas, over the years I found myself saying some of the crazy things my mom would say to me or grab the girls' arms and shake them when they misbehaved. Guilt and shame gushed into my heart washing away all my good intentions.

As the kids and I got older I saw glimmers of hope in my behavior as I worked to change the patterns developed. Conversations with Brenna and Kalie often prompted me to rethink my parenting style. Wade's influences too gave me courage to look at teaching, discipline and my reactions to situations from a new perspective.

Sure, there are plenty of awful memories of fights and arguments, times when I completely acted irrational and lost all sense of my grown up self. (Remember when I announced that you girls could do you own laundry from now on? It was right after you gripped about what we were having for dinner.)

Time and age become my friend as the memories of all my mistakes fade into the past and only the good memories are clearly seen in my mind's eye.

Yet guilt and regrets are hard to shake, and they often rear their ugly heads to remind you that you really aren't much better than anyone else.

Growing up is a never ending process. At least it shouldn't be. I am still a mom, but my roles have changed. I can't, try as I might, control my children. They are now all old enough to take care of themselves and in fact do a pretty good job of it.

So what kind of mom do I want to be, now that I am all grown up?

I want to be the kind of mom that encourages her children.

I want to be the kind of mom that speak truth and love, sprinkled of course with humor.

I want to be the kind of mom that my kids still want to call and tell me their joys, hurts, pains, sadness and hopes.

I want to be the kind of mom that prays for her kids.

I want to be the kind of mom that marvels at the adults her kids are becoming.

I want to be the kind of mom whose kids call her blessed. Because I am.

Thank you, Brenna, Kalie and Jesse: for being such amazing and wonderful children.

Happy Mother's Day! I love you!

Oh yah, and I really would like one more medium sized to large wind-chime.

Life and Death...then choose life

As you may know I've been watching a couple of 'wildlife' cameras: One red-tailed hawk in Portland, and two eagle cameras. Live animal cams are much more interesting than watching 'Jersey Shore' or any other so called reality TV. You can't get more real than unscripted wildlife!

This fact hit several thousand people on Tuesday, April 26 when the female pair of bald eagles raising three chicks in Norfolk, Virginia's Botanical Garden was struck and killed by a plane getting ready to land at the airport. News coverage continues daily after the mother eagle was identified by wildlife staff experts at the park.

Yesterday afternoon over 11,000 viewers expressed their shock and grief at the loss of this eagle who raised 18 chicks, all surviving their first flight from the nest. The couple had 9 years together, raising a family each year before the watchful eye of devoted followers including many children in classrooms.

I can't find this quote, but I remember hearing it several times throughout my life, pertaining to the violent nature of wildlife. If we think that humans are brutal to their own kind, then just watch some of the stuff that happens in the wilderness.

And yet, as I navigate my way to the news website that hosts the camera, there are links to news reports about human tragedy:

~ Afghan officer opens fire, kills 9 Americans

~ Storms kill 11 in the south

~ Terror reigns in Syrian City

~ Nun stuck in elevator for 4 days

~ 190 killed by violent tornados in the south


Well, you get the picture. Death and destruction are happening all around us. And while a part of me mourns the loss of this magnificent animal the fact that people are suffering is not lost on me.

Humans connect with the actions and lives of animals. Perhaps some of the viewers wish their parents had cared for them as faithfully as the eagle couple cared for their young.

On the eagle cam blog people posted questions and comments like: "When do you think the father eagle will stop grieving." To which the wildlife expert replied "Eagles don't feel emotions in the same way that humans do."

Animal lovers tend to anthropomorphism when describing animal emotions. Although I am guilty of this as well, I have to chuckle when I read on the eagle cam blog about people feeling bad for the male eagle as he no longer has a mate nor his babies. The staff at the Norfolk Botanical Garden decided to remove the chicks to a wildlife rehabilitation center as they feared the male wouldn't be able to provide enough food for his three growing eaglets. While the decision to remove them is controversial, I believe that the decision for life was made.

In the cycle of life and death comes the reality that life is fragile. Accidents happen cutting life short, forever changing the lives of the people involved.

The eaglets, while not bound for certain death if left in the nest, now face a different future void of the kind of parenting that will give them the tools they need to make it in the wild. It's got to be complicated. But again, with the 'benefit' of technology we humans are given a birds eye view to the circle of life in the wild. The daily activities can't be scripted. The horrors of life played out before an audience on a live camera.

The same can be said for humanity. The random brutality of a tornado that took the lives of over 190 people last night give me pause. Human lives mingled with animal lives in that destructive force of nature.

With my passion for animals I have to work to keep humanity in the forefront of my concern. For I know that the brutality that befalls the animals that God created pales in comparison to the brutality that is inflicted upon those made in the image of God.


“Nature is not human hearted.” says Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu.

"Plans to protect air and water, wilderness and wildlife are in fact plans to protect man." Stewart Udall

A Big Day for Bird Watching

At 6:15 am (Pacific Standard Time) the process for banding the eaglets in Virgina began. What an amazing process. Best part of the day for me were these still close-ups of the babies. What a treat to see them up close without the camera swaying!

Here's the link to the website: http://www.wvec.com/marketplace/microsite-content/eagle-cam.html

Then, this early afternoon the Redtail Hawk chicks (at least two of them) hatched in Portland.



Imagine...this miracle is happening all over the world right now...spring is bringing forth its bounty and because of technology we get to see it! WOW!



(Below are two pictures taken by the Norfolk Botanical Gardens staff during the banding today. Look at their talons!)

And then the sun came to play

Birds singing in the cold but sunny backyard, squirrels searching for the remains of yesterday's nuts, and the sun....promising a full day of its rays brings a smile to every ones face.

Such is the life in the Pacific Northwest.

No complaining, just observing. We've had a fairly mild winter compared to the folks east of us. No windstorms, hail or tsunamis. But nonetheless, the sun is a welcome accompaniment to our days.

Even now as the puffy clouds roll into the sky it's a welcome change to the blanket of clouds that we've all gotten accustomed to over the last several months.

So as long as we can, look up and feel the warmth on your face. Sunday it will likely be rain drops splashing in your eyes.

No Laughing Matter

(About the Photos - a stock photo of a Peregrine and the picture I took of the wounded bird in the floor of my car.)

Monday morning, March 7, 2011, started with me driving Fonzy to Carlton to have his stitches removed. But what happened along the way to Carlton made the rest of the day surreal.

Traveling along Hwy 240 in the morning at 8:15 am one must be alert. Travelers who obey the speed limit will be passed by cars in a hurry.

About 200 feet past Williamson Road I saw something small standing by the side of the road. Releasing my foot from the gas pedal I slowed down and saw a Peregrine falcon wobbling on the edge of the pavement.

With Wade's wise words ringing in my ears (Don't kill yourself trying to save an animal.) I made my way to the first driveway where I could safely turn around.

My mind was racing with plans as how to safely capture him without getting injured. They have sharp talons and beaks, and even though my intentions were honorable, he wouldn't know that.

As I approached the bird's location another car was speeding along. As the car approached the birds location the bird began to walk into the road.

Screaming for the bird to stop the car's momentum caught the bird and whirled it back onto the gravel where the bird lay still. Turning around at Williamson Rd. I inched myself back to the scene and saw this beautiful bird laying very still.

It was obvious from what I first saw that this bird had been injured. By what I was not sure. But the final blow surely came at the hands of that unsuspecting (and rather dull) driver.

Determining that death was certain, I made my way to my destination, Carlton Veterinary Clinic.

As I drove I thought of my friend at George Fox University, Don Powers. I was pretty certain that he could find a use for this bird and that perhaps it's death could be used to educate the students in his classes.

I called Don's assistant, Jane Sweet. She returned my call while I was in the vet's office, affirming my assumption that Don would like the bird.

Now my mission was not a rescue mission but rather a, what do they call it? Recovery mission.

I made my way into Williamson Road where road workers were setting up shop. I turned around and put my car on the side of the road. Gathering a few newspapers that happened to be in my car, I made my way to the lifeless bird.

As I got closer I realized that death had not made it's final sting. This gallant fellow was breathing. "You're alive!" Tears came to my eyes as I reached down with my hands, letting the newspapers fall to into the ditch. I carefully picked him up and made my way back to my car.

The remaining newspapers that were on the floor of the passenger seat served as a resting place. I took one of the pages and laid it over the top of his body to provide a barrier to the light and my presence.

Recovery mission urgently becomes a rescue mission. My first thought...where do I take a federally protected bird of prey?

I called Jane Sweet. She became my ally in this quest.

Two of the veterinary offices she called (not the one in Carlton) in Newberg were unhelpful. While Jane was on the phone with her calls I was calling 411 to call the Fish and Game department in Salem. After several recorded messages I finally left one.

My next call was to Newberg-Dundee Police - NOT 911 - but the business office.

Finally a helpful person gave me the phone number for the Audobon Society in Portland.

Nancy, a volunteer, agreed to meet me in King City for the exchange.

Although she suggested that I put 'Perry' in a box, I couldn't find one so I settled on a large towel. I dropped Fonzy off at home, grabbed the towel, and headed out to King City.

When I gave him to Nancy the brave bird was still alive. The rest of the day was a blur as I couldn't get this animal out of my mind.

As promised, Nancy phoned later that afternoon with an update. Sadly, our little fellow passed away soon after arriving in the parking lot of the rehabilitation center in North Portland. Nancy indicated that a post-mortem exam would be performed to determine cause of death. Again the tears came, softly. If only I had been able to rescue him before the car hit him.

Around 5 pm I received a call from someone else at the Audobon Society. The results from the exam were in. Not only did the bird have several injuries from blunt force trauma (the car) but he had also been shot. Murdered. Senselessly killed by someone. A human.

I am pretty sure that most of you don't even know what a Peregrine Falcon is! Read this!

This afternoon I received a call from an officer with the Fish and Game department. Since Peregrines are federal protected, this bird's death becomes a legal issue.

Peregrines are protected under the Federal Migratory Bird Treaty Act.

If we find the person(s) who shot this bird they could face a fine of $100,000.00 and up to six months in jail.

With my 'critical incident response training' from work I was ready to give this officer details. Time of day, exact location, state of the bird prior to the car hitting it, geographic area and who lived in the area (Oakhurst Farms) that might have seen or heard something.

In my minds eye I see this beautiful creature soar and dive. I see him flying high and catching a thermal as he hoovers over the trees and fields looking for food. His love and care for his mate and young as he brings food back to the nest.

Portland has a huge investment in this lovely animal.

I keep in mind that humans too are murdered and mistreated all over the world. This fact keeps me looking at this bird's demise in perspective. The fact remains that many humans do not value life.

I believe that God is the creator of human and animal kind. God made me to care about both. I can't help it.

Perhaps heaven will be a place where we all can enjoy rather than destroy God's creation.

Each Time Somone Shows That They Care

My parents didn't hire many babysitters while I was young. At least I don't have any recollections of that one special babysitter. But if they did I am sure I would have wanted Mary Poppins to walk through the door with that spoonful of sugar and umbrella in hand.

Mary Poppins was iconic in so many ways. She embodies the characteristics I hold dear: Compassion, strength, sense-of-humor, musicality, and purpose.

In fact, of any Disney film (besides 'The Little Mermaid') it is the songs of this classic story that still ring within my heart, soul and mind. The list of songs alone takes me back to a time of youthful bliss: Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, I Love to Laugh, Let's Go Fly a Kite, to name a few. One of the songs Stay Awake, inspired me to create a bed time song for my own children, simply titled by my children, "The Wonderful Song."

Mary's whole persona is summed up in the song Jolly Holiday:

Oh, it's a jolly 'oliday with Mary Mary makes your 'eart so light! When the day is gray and ordinary Mary makes the sun shine bright! Oh, 'appiness is bloomin' all around 'er The daffodils are smilin' at the dove When Mary 'olds your 'and you feel so grand Your 'eart starts beatin' like a big brass band It's a jolly 'oliday with Mary No wonder that it's Mary that we love!

The songs, many accompanied with Dick Van Dyke's splendid Cockney accent, reverberate to this day with a hopeful, blissful emotion that carried it's young fans to another place and time. Like so many parents, Jane and Michael's were preoccupied with life outside the home. Although set in a different time period, many of the 50's and 60's moms and dads mimicked the rolls of that of the Bank's parents.

Somehow, without even knowing it, I listened to the LP of this movie (remember, this was all pre-VHS era) to escape into a place where not only did I identify with Banks children, but dreamed too that a Mary would come into my life and sing away all my sadness.

Thinking back to my youth, I clearly remember the effect of walking into my 4th grade classroom for the first time to meet the 'new teacher.' Miss Wildman had shoulder length, dark brown hair, a cute button nose, a smile that showed she cared and I was pretty sure she had a jar of sugar in her drawer. I was immediately in love with her.

Empathy and compassion are the two words that describe my memories of that year. Miss Wildman was without a doubt the grade school teacher that evokes the most emotion from me even now as I approach the golden years of my life. Miss Wildman was my Mary Poppins.

As a child, I was prone to creating illnesses in an effort to keep from going to school. (I compensated for this with my children by giving them plenty of 'excused absences' for mental health days.) After a while, they didn't believe my cries of wolf. When my parents sent me to school with the mumps, it was Miss Wildman that rescued me with a phone call to my mom to come pick me up, as it was obvious my throat was swollen.

Children need compassion in their lives. Growing up is hard to do. Compassion is one of the most important gifts we can give to our children: to all mankind for that matter. Life can be hard.

When I sat down to write today I was focused on the 25 or so birds that were feeding in my backyard. Typically when I 'bird watch' from my kitchen window a song rolls through my mind: You guessed it. Feed the Birds.

We've had new visitors to our backyard eatery, two migratory birds: the Townsend's Warbler and the White Throated Sparrow, which kind of looks like a Black-Throated Gray Warbler. This time of year is so much fun as the local birds mix it up with the visitors. The cold-arctic blast ushers in a first row seat to the ever changing cast of the stage.

Most of the drama is kept to a minimum. Occasionally the resident Harris Hawk makes an appearance. Silence is the clue to his arrival. Only once has tragedy struck when the remanents
of a Dove appeared on my front walkway. (See my Facebook photo album "Murder on Oxford."

As I sit hear writing I noticed that the songs of the singers in my backyard had stopped. I got up just in time to see the large wing span of a hawk flying overhead. Everyone flew for cover. As soon as the danger had passed the birds came back and the singing resumed. I love nature.

Feeding the birds is an expense my sweet husband allows, without guilt: he enjoys the show too. We have a joked about the Spotted Towhee that Wade declared spotting. To an untrained eye they look a lot like Robins.

He did see a Towhee, at least I know they are around. Just saw one today. You have been verified, Wade. :)

For our 25 wedding anniversary Wade and I traveled for 10 days to England and Scotland. We had two lovely days in London. While we didn't have much time we had to pick our sites to visit with great care. Top on my list was St. Paul's cathedral so I could feed the birds, and sing the song. As we neared the beautiful stone structure we were soon keenly aware that my dreams were going to be dashed by the sights and sounds of construction. The closest I could get was across the street from the steps of St. Paul. There was no bird woman with bags full of crumbs nor were their birds nor were there any birds filling the skies.

At the time it was a bitter disappointment for me. Although Wade urged me to stand as close as I could to the steps, it was far from what I imagined. My mood was foul and the song was lost in the honking and squawking made by humans, not birds.

Aside from all that, this story is about compassion. As you weave through these lines you will find elements compassion Mary Poppins, the Bird Woman of the song, my husband, and the simple act of buying bird seed and nuts for those feathered visitors in my backyard.

All of these are examples of what I believe God wants us to have for each other. Feeding the poor, helping the helpless, a kind word during troubled times, encouragement for the faint of heart.

Sometimes it is easier to shower compassion upon the animal creatures who share this tiny planet with us humans. I've heard it said that you can tell if someone has compassion for humankind by the way their treat animals. The opposite is true as well.

When my son Jesse was 3 years old, it was obvious that he had the gift of compassion. It was evidenced by so many examples, even as a young child. An incident at church one Sunday it forever etched in my mind. At the time we attended a large church. Jesse was standing next to Wade and I as we waited for the previous service to exit. All of a sudden Jesse began to cry. In his darling little voice he exclaimed that he felt bad for that little girl. Looking at the direction he was pointing I saw a little girl, not much older that Jesse, who's mom was bend over kissing the little girls finger. Jesse escaped my grasp and went over to her where he stared at her. I walked the few steps over to where the three stood and heard the mom explain to Jesse that the little girl got her finger shut in the door. I knew then by my little boys reaction that compassion would be something that came easy to him. Still true to this day.

I usually have a point to these ramblings. Here it is.

We all need to help each other along the way in life. All the social network options makes this pretty easy as opportunities to emote are readily available.

Look around you. See the people in your life who need a bag of compassion. Unlike the bird woman's crumbs, giving compassion is free.

Time Keeps on Slipping into the Future

That good ole Steve Miller! He has provided me with a theme whenever one speaks about time and how fast it moves. I guess, like an eagle into the sea.

As we start a new year I can't help but reflect on all the 52 new years I've seen come and go. I always thought that something magical happens in that split second between 11:59 pm at midnight on the 31st of December. I have such great expectations for this moment and yet nothing magical has ever happened. Ever. Yet each year I have such big expectations.

Without going into much detail, I sit here reflecting on the past and projecting what will happen in the future. As a middle-aged woman with a fantastic husband and three marvelous children, what kind of regrets do I have? Lots. Some regrets are of my own doing and others persist because of the decisions someone made on my behalf.

Nagging thoughts haunt me in the quietness of life where I have to find the strength to overtake the doubts and turn them into lessons.

Finding ourselves in a new year should be joyful. People write about how happy they are that 2010 is over. Face it, for many people around the world 2010 was unkind and relentless. I can't even begin to fathom the loss that many people have faced. People I know have faced illness, death, pain and depression. In comparison 2010's struggles have been just a bad hang-nail.

God tells us that we can not know the future. Really the best we can do is live each life one day at a time and live it to it's fullest.

So for this new year I plan to do that. Live. Love. Eat. Pray. I am thankful for the life that I have. And as long as I have wings I'm gona fly like an eagle. To the sea. And be free.