Of Careers, Calling and Parental Pride

Earlier this year, I blogged about having pride in our kids - pride that comes naturally for parents. 

I remember my dad being proud of his daughters, making it known that he could farm with his two daughters just as well as any man with sons (maybe his biases skewed his perception just a bit...). We have a number of friends whose kids have worked in the family business, which must be a good feeling - sharing knowledge, goals, looking at ways to move the company into the next phase or change, building together. We are naturally pleased when our kids follow in our footsteps, choosing to emulate us in their job or profession.
 
Growing up, I knew a large family whose kids all became either pastors, doctors, nurses or professors, most of them taking on a missionary stint in Africa or other developing country. To the last one, they were kind and compassionate, displaying none of the arrogance we often associate with highly successful people. I wondered what conversations around their supper table must have been like.  While we were talking about the best way to avoid scours (diarrhea) in newborn calves, they were likely discussing the latest medical breakthrough and the impact it would have on those who might benefit - or perhaps debating a difficult theological problem.  As years passed, my respect for this family only grew - parallel to their accomplishments which truly benefited people in countless ways. It's enough to make most of us just a bit envious.

What constitutes success? Is it our education?  Our accomplishments?  Our status?  Our wealth? Our health? Our fame?

Throughout history, people who lived what we call a 'full' life - who made a difference somewhere, were people who listened to their heart. They leaned in to their potential. (What is our potential, if not who we were created to be?) Instead of emulating someone else, they discovered who they really were, and developed that person. They responded to their own specific calling. Isn't that a worthy task for each of us? To find and follow the passion and gifts that lie inside of us?

I recall walking through the Alexander Graham Bell Museum in Baddeck, Nova Scotia some years ago. Meandering through the displays, reading about this extraordinary man completely mesmerized me. This was a man whose greatest passion lay in compassion for people and discovering new ways of communicating, especially related to the hearing impaired. He was too busy working out his new ideas to worry about the financial rewards of his labor. He handed his telephone company, Ma Bell, over to his wife, which made her a very wealthy woman. He didn't work for fame; he cared deeply about people and used his inquisitive and creative mind to follow his heart. You can almost imagine the neighbors shaking their heads and saying things like, "Why isn't that man out making a decent living? Imagine just staying in that workshop every day! What will all his experimentation get him?" Still he forged ahead. His calling was greater than his desire for approval.

None of our kids have followed in our footsteps in terms of education or career. None of our kids has remained in the family business. None of our kids has status or wealth. None of our kids have achieved fame. What they have done is followed their hearts, and let God guide them to their best life...in an ongoing journey.  Each is being true to his/her own calling (each very different from their siblings) - and yet each one exerts positive influence in the lives of others; of that I have no doubt.  I know this, in part, because they influence me.

I don't expect, or even desire that our kids be like us. My hope and joy comes in seeing them find and follow their specific passion, working to develop their talents and gifts, even when it's hard and demands sacrifice. That they do so with integrity - continuing always to follow God's best for them - not for someone else. Envying someone else's place in life is a sure path to failure and defeat.

Accepting who we are, discovering our potential and then striving to be our best is one of the key ingredients to wholeness. When our children (and grandchildren) learn through success and through failure - in the confidence they are unique individuals who have a unique place in this world, I'm in their corner.  My heart is instilled with respect and yes, even pride.

A New Life

The conflict I wrote about in my previous blog has been resolved.
My mom passed away on November 1st.

As I indicated in my previous post, I had struggled - not insignificantly - with end of life decisions.  I was glad for the one-mindedness that my sister and I felt, and the validation by her physician.

Mom struggled against her oxygen mask and her IV in her final days.  Because of her memory loss, she didn't remember - more than a few seconds - when we told her the oxygen was to make her better. Mom was usually a pretty upbeat person, but it was clear that she felt almost claustrophobic. She wanted freedom.  A few times, she mumbled to me, "I can't anymore."
She hated having the mask on, and even the nasal tube when her meals came.  At one point, she just kept trying to pull it off and was becoming very agitated.  I found it painful to watch her discomfort and angst. I said, to her (in Dutch), "That rotten thing, hey?"
"Ya!" she exclaimed. 
I took it off and asked, "Is that better?"

For the first time, she actually laughed, and said, "Ya!" with a big, beaming smile.
As she continued to deteriorate, we consulted with the physician about the reality of her condition.  It was clear that if she was to get better, it would be a long road of fighting with oxygen and IV.

Then, overnight, she became unresponsive. My sister and I went in to speak with her doctor.  We asked him whether the most compassionate thing would be to remove all the tubes, allowing her to die in comfort and with dignity.  He concurred with our thoughts.
We asked how long she might last.  He said it would be anywhere from 2 hours to a few days.
As it turned out, she went within the hour.

My mom was a woman of faith. Her hope and salvation was in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. We cannot be devastated when we know the joy she now experiences. She has entered a new life where time is no more.  Her joy will never end.

I was blessed to be with her when she drew her last breath here on earth.  It's hard to express the deep mystery that envelopes the moment of death. I believe her movement into her eternal home was a gentle, good journey.  I feel privileged to have witnessed it.

End-of-life Care

The strides made in medical care over my lifetime are incredible.  We have been able to prolong life through ever evolving drug discoveries and medical technology.  Still, at some point, death takes us all.  So for children of aging parents, the question is, how much technology and medical care should be used in the name of prolonging life in someone well advanced in years - someone unable to make those decisions for themselves?  What comfort level should we aiming for?  Are we OK with our loved one struggling in anxiety and anger with the paraphernalia used to pump in life-giving substances and extract waste? 

What does it mean to allow a loved one to die with dignity?  Does the level of alertness give us the clues to follow?  Do we only make the hard decisions if someone is comatose? 

I have been spending the past few days at my mother's hospital bedside as she continually fights with her oxygen mask.  She has been incoherent and for the most part, unresponsive - we can't understand her - although she opens her eyes and nods to my questions. She has dementia, and her ability to speak has become much less recently.  Though she understands some things, she quickly forgets I've told her that she needs the oxygen to get better.

This morning, she's more alert.  Which makes her even more anxious about the oxygen mask, and now the intravenous as well.

Last night I spoke to a friend who has been visiting my mom for years...they had a close connection years ago, and she and her husband have been ever faithful to care for and about Mom.  We talked about Mom's constant irritability with the oxygen mask.  She said, "You know, your mom has the right to refuse the oxygen.  She has a right to be comfortable."  She said this with much love, as she referred to a visit they made with Mom at the nursing home, just before she entered hospital.  She spoke about the peaceful look on Mom's face as they visited, even though she was unable to speak.

Her words give me cause for thought.  How much do we fight with her to prolong her time in this, her 10th decade?  Will removing the oxygen and IV give her a certain peace, or will she struggle then, even more, against breath and dehydration?

Her increased alertness also makes for her desire to get up on her own, and want to 'go home' - back to the nursing home.  It's difficult to see your loved one tied down in a chair or bed - what's to be done?  What is the quality of life for someone requiring sedation to keep their anxiety level down? 

Is the struggle I feel more about appeasing my discomfort or hers?

My mother has always been a woman of faith - we are assured that when she takes leave of this life, she will be completely healed and living fully and joyfully in the next.  This is no justification for any decisions that we make, but certainly colors how we look at life and death.

We will see how today goes and speak with the physician tomorrow.  In the meantime, the dichotomy in my mind continues to churn, for there are no easy answers.

Faith and Fear - a daughter's view

I am reading Mary Gordon's Circling My Mother, a memoir set within a historical time frame that closely intersects the time period of my mother's life and mine.  Reading this book gives rise to the question of who my mother was and is.  Like her mother, mine, too, is afflicted with dementia.

As I read Gordon's probing evaluation of her relationship with her mother, it strikes me that much of my mother's actions may have been attributed to fear.  This has never really occurred to me before.  Perhaps I was always either too close to an emotionally charged situation or sadly, never had the inclination to discover what was behind her responses to certain situations.

She was afraid of horses, narrow mountain roads and my father's impatience with farm animals.  She was afraid that bears would come get her when she and my dad went camping. She overcame her fear of driving by getting her drivers' license when she was well into her 30's.  When we moved a province away, she was always afraid this was the last time she'd see us.  During my growing up years, her greatest fear expressed itself in frequent lectures (with much sighing and rolling of the eyes on my part) about 'what boys want' and how unbearable it would be for her if one of her girls came home pregnant.  She was determined that our family's reputation would always be untainted by that situation.

At the same time, she spoke of God's faithfulness, assuring us that he would always be with us - which was comforting - and that he always sees us (which was not always comforting).  From my perspective, her greatest fear also translated into lack of trust in my integrity.  At the time, it almost made me want to realize her greatest fear, to spite her.  But the faith she nurtured within me also prevented me from following through.  (I often wondered if she would have found it in her heart to be supportive in such a situation.)

This great fear of hers resulted in arguments about the length of my skirts, where I went and with whom (and when), and curfews.  Today, I can see the wisdom of some of these restrictions.  I was basically naive, and still tend to be blinded to the darker side of people.

Others would never have known she was fearful, since she was always full of jokes and trickery, and had a great sense of humor.  She was hospitable and extroverted.  School friends and neighborhood kids were welcome at our house. Another person at the table was never a problem.  Later, she always played games with her grand kids, as she had done with us and our friends - she loved cards - especially crib.

It sometimes saddens me that my mother and I did not have the close mother/daughter relationship that would have allowed us to discuss any subject - openly and without judgement or defensiveness.

Like Gordon's mother, mine is more of the child now; she doesn't remember my name (although she recognizes me as someone dear to her), and she's unable to hold a conversation.  She doesn't always remember what to do with a fork or spoon, and doesn't remember family names or relationships.  On good days though, her sense of humor is still evident by the glint in her eyes as she does a 'happy dance' behind her walker.

I have long ago given over the tension that once existed between us and trust that a solid faith still resides deep with her - a faith that will not fail her in her last days.

 

Thunder and Lightning - Oh Yeah!

As a small child I would never have guessed that one day I would enthusiastically welcome the chaos of a powerful thunderstorm.  The prairies offered regular summer thunderstorms that shook the foundations of our house.  Bolts of lightning flashed through the windows and I often imagined being struck by one through the panes of glass.  But alas, I have moved away from the prairies and thunderstorms are now a rare event.

One of my earliest memories is of  being put to bed one afternoon in an upstairs spare room.  Although my memory of this particular room is unclear, I remember it being sparse, big and scary.  My impression was that I had done something to deserve being there, but I'm not sure.  Thunder rumbled intermittently outside the walls of the bedroom.  My mother came in and told me (in her native Dutch tongue) that God was 'bose' - angry.  I wondered if his anger was directed at me.

As young children, my sister and I were often awakened at night by great peals of thunder as they enveloped the house, reverberating beneath it.  The obscure clothes cabinet became blindingly present in unpredictable flashes, as walls vibrated with every new round that made us crawl deeper under the covers.  If the interval between lightning strikes and thunder was almost non-existant, Mom and Dad would come to sit with us or get us up in anticipation of a strike which thankfully, never occurred.

A little girl's wide-eyed fear eventually grew into wide-eyed awe.

Today I watch as a rare storm rages outside my window.  I am awe-struck by the intensity of lightning fingers as they streak a darkening sky and resounding cracks snapping angrily as if offended at not being first.  I turn off my music to catch more distant rumblings.  An expectant thrill moves through my body as I stop to pay attention.  I am not disappointed.  How I love a good, rousing thunderstorm!

Three Things, (Part 3)

Inspiration by itself does not produce results.  Nor does the combination of inspiration and insight, although one might argue that those two in combination can possibly improve someone's character.  But as we pursue excellence in our dreams and passions, a third element is necessary. To be diligent is to be focused and intentional.  Diligence requires self discipline, for when it comes to being successful at our work or play, who else can we discipline (unless parenting is our focus, but that's a subject in it's own right). 

Diligence is the steadfast application of ourselves to the task at hand.  Basically, it's good old-fashioned hard work.  In a culture where instant gratification is the norm, we are often left with a deflated enthusiasm for the time required to produce excellent results.  The drive to be diligent - our energy - is largely fueled by inspiration, whereas our method is produced by insight.

Great leaders who were met at every turn by opposition or desolation, yet refused to give up, were somehow inspired to keep going.  Think of William Wilberforce, Martin Luther King Jr., Winston Churchill, and Eva Peron.  Their influential actions changed the world, bringing dignity to an oppressed and enslaved humanity.

Mother Theresa, one of the greatest role models of diligence in our time struggled deeply with depression and feelings of Divine abandonment, yet continued her work with relentless focus, courage and energy.  In times of doubt and loneliness, sheer determination drove her forward - determination to be true to God's calling in her life.  Perhaps it was her vision to accomplish one small deed at a time, rather than great, sweeping successes that gave her the ability to move one foot before the other, over and over.  This kind of diligence is difficult to understand; there is no instant gratification in it - yet its results generate a new cycle of inspiration, insight and diligence. 


“I do not pray for success, I ask for faithfulness.”
― Mother Teresa

Three Things (Part 2)

 Insight shows up when we pay attention and use our intuition to see what's really going on.  It's listening with our heart and seeing with our soul.  It's gaining a deeper understanding by looking deeper than the surface. 

Research is a key requirement for gaining insight.  And insight is a key requirement for the pursuit of excellence.  Whether you've been inspired to cook in a specific ethnic flavor, write a biography, volunteer with a charity or live a healthier lifestyle, knowledge of your subject is essential.  A painter of wildlife studies animal anatomy.  A historical fiction writer reads up on the time period their novel will cover.  An interviewer gets to know as much as possible about the person she's interviewing beforehand, along with related subject matter.  This is elemental.

But insight is more than knowledge.  It is a passion that sets your work - the painting, the book, the relationship, the project - apart from the rest.  Passion ignites deeper thought about how our actions will stir others.  How will our painting move the viewer?  How will our investment into the relationship affect the other?  How will our composition stir the hearts of the audience?  We take ownership not only of the project, but of its effects. Insight gives us a unique perspective on our subject - and turns our deeper ruminations into specific actions.

All our best intentions, however, are nothing without a third element, diligence.

Only when inspired to go beyond consciousness by some extraordinary insight does beauty manifest unexpectedly.  Arthur Erickson

Three Things (Part 1)

Inspiration by itself does not produce results.  Nor does the combination of inspiration and insight, although one might argue that those two in combination can possibly improve someone's character.  But as we pursue excellence in our dreams and passions, a third element is necessary. To be diligent is to be focused and intentional.  Diligence requires self discipline, for when it comes to being successful at our work or play, who else can we discipline (unless parenting is our focus, but that's a subject in it's own right). 

Diligence is the steadfast application of ourselves to the task at hand.  Basically, it's good old-fashioned hard work.  In a culture where instant gratification is the norm, we are often left with a deflated enthusiasm for the time required to produce excellent results.  The drive to be diligent - our energy - is largely fueled by inspiration, whereas our method is produced by insight.

Great leaders who were met at every turn by opposition or desolation, yet refused to give up, were somehow inspired to keep going.  Think of William Wilberforce, Martin Luther King Jr., Winston Churchill, and Eva Peron.  Their influential actions changed the world, bringing dignity to an oppressed and enslaved humanity.

Mother Theresa, one of the greatest role models of diligence in our time struggled deeply with depression and feelings of Divine abandonment, yet continued her work with relentless focus, courage and energy.  In times of doubt and loneliness, sheer determination drove her forward - determination to be true to God's calling in her life.  Perhaps it was her vision to accomplish one small deed at a time, rather than great, sweeping successes that gave her the ability to move one foot before the other, over and over.  This kind of diligence is difficult to understand; there is no instant gratification in it - yet its results generate a new cycle of inspiration, insight and diligence. 


“I do not pray for success, I ask for faithfulness.”
― Mother Teresa

Past Surprises

Everyone (well, almost everyone) likes surprises.  I love them!  It's wonderful when someone plans gifts or events to make you feel special and loved. 

 My husband is the master of surprises. 

Little Surprises
Before we were married, Don would often surprise me by taking me to dinner and not telling me where, or he'd show up with a little gift now and then or flowers or chocolates (only once, because I accidentally let slip a few months later that I really didn't care for chocolates - oops!).  I've been thinking about the surprises that were the most memorable for me.  I will share a few.

A Welcomed Night Out
When we had three pre-schoolers, Don called me one Friday afternoon, suggesting I dress up nicely for an evening out. Such dates were rare for us, living on an acreage and being mostly short of funds. On this particular occasion, he had arranged for child care, then took me out dining and dancing at a lovely venue in the city.  It was just what I needed to feel special and connected to the world again!  Definitely a deposit our emotional bank account!

A Tropical Vacation
My sister and her husband always spent two months of the year - November and February - in Hawaii.  I remember sitting with them at the airport for coffee before seeing them off one evening in November.  Wistfully, I remarked how wonderful it would be to go with them since we had never been.  My sister simply smiled and said, "I'm sure you'll get there one day."

"Hmmmph," I thought.  "Easy for her to say."

We saw them off and went home to bed.  When I got out of the shower next morning, expecting to go to work as usual, there were two suitcases on the bed.  Don informed me that we were going on a vacation.  I balked.  "We can't go away!  I have meetings scheduled today, and lots to do.  I just can't go!"  Apparently he had spoken with my manager who had approved my time away.  Don told me we were going to L.A. where he would teach at the technical college, while I'd sit poolside.  From the time we got to the airport until we got on the plane, I was on my phone making last minute changes to my work schedule.  I had paid little attention to any of the goings-on around me as we checked in and boarded the plane.

As we taxied down the runway, I heard a male voice. "Good morning, passengers.  This is your captain.  Welcome aboard our flight to Honolulu."

I turned to Don and asked, "Did he just say 'Honolulu'?"

"I think so,"  he replied.

"Oh, well then we must be stopping in L.A. on the way,"  I reasoned.

"Maybe,"  he said, unable to keep a straight face.

My eyes became saucers as the truth dawned on me.  We were going to Hawaii...Wow!  It actually took me a bit to come to terms with being airborne for 6 hours rather than 90 minutes.  Once I adjusted, the excitement built. I was impressed with Don's ability to manage this surprise so well.  What a memorable vacation!

Tropical Wonder

Off Oahu's West Coast

A Bavarian Village in Winter
Ten days after we arrived home from the above-mention Hawaii vacation, again on a Friday morning, I got out of the shower to find two suitcases on the bed again.  This time, he told me to pack for a cold climate.

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

"You can't keep doing this...your taking over my life."

He just smiled.  I phoned my work 'buddy' who had already arranged (Don's influence once again) to take over my duties for the two work days I'd be away.

This time, Don and my best friend had planned to surprise their spouses with a trip to Leavenworth, Washington just before Christmas - lights and carolers everywhere, snow, decorated shops and the delicious aroma of roasted nuts in the hotel lobby.  It was magical weekend!

A Special Car
A few years later, shortly after I had been promoted at work, I received a call at my desk.  Don explained that our daughter Kelly,  was missing her much-needed sunglasses.  She was quite sure she had left them in my car. They were a few minutes away.  Could I come down with the car keys?

When I walked into the parking lot, my car wasn't where I thought it might be; I started second-guessing myself about where I'd parked it that morning.  We looked around for a bit, then Don said, "There it is!"

"What are you talking about?" I asked.  "I don't see it."

"That's your car!"  he said.  After a few moments of 'deer-in-the-headlights' look, I finally clued in.  He had replaced my 'old' car with a partially restored burgundy 1980 BMW 5S, with standard transmission, sunroof, lovely chrome detail and low profile tires.  What a fun car to drive!

I welcome surprises; when I'm going about the mundane (and even not-so-mundane) tasks of life, they inject excitement and joy into my being.  The greatest surprise is that someone cares enough to surprise me.

“There is no surprise more magical than the surprise of being loved.”
― Charles Morgan

A Surprise UN-Birthday

I've been waiting YEARS to surprise my husband, Don.  I will post stories later about some of the things he's surprised me with.  I finally got him, as you'll see in some of the pictures below.  (His mouth actually hangs open:-)

I invite you to read our daughter Kelly's original post below and enjoy the photos she took (Kelly's a photographer as well - bluemelonphotography.com -) of Don's 60th UNbirthday last week.  Since his 60th year began the day after his 59th birthday, I concluded it would be very appropriate to celebrate his birthday smack-dab in the middle of his 60th year. 

It was also our son-in-law, Alf's birthday.  He graciously allowed Don the limelight, though.  I have one correction to Kelly's comment about Don never having a party.  He's had birthday parties, but usually by the time December 27 rolls around, everyone is so satiated with Christmas parties and dinners in the weeks previous, that they're not really 'into it'.  Besides, both our birthdays are in winter, so having a summer birthday party is, for us, a novelty.

Here's Kelly's post:

 My most wonderful, amazing husband celebrated his 36th birthday last Thursday, June 27th. He was not the celebrated guest of honor, but it was a good evening. We celebrated as a family on Saturday after his birthday, which I will write about in another post. But the reason his birthday was overshadowed...

My dad's birthday is December 27th (also our anniversary...we got married on his 50th birthday) and because of that, he has never had a birthday party (he claims). I can't speak for his childhood but growing up and in my adult years, I can say that he's never had a celebration that's just about him and his birthday. He has pulled off many surprises for my mom and she has never been able to really get him good. This was her opportunity.

She decided to throw him an UNbirthday for his 60th birthday. Exactly 6 months early, which is Alf's actual birthday. So we have been planning for months on this. We set the menu, made the guest list, I created a slide show, and tried to formulate a plan to get him out of the house for the afternoon while I set up for the surprise. After Tara & Dave's wedding, my parents went on an Alaskan cruise with my Uncle Dave & Auntie Irene, and some relatives from Australia, Jim and Benita. They came back on Wednesday, party on Thursday. When I asked my mom about cutting the lawn, she assured me Dad would cut it as soon as they returned; we wouldn't have to ask him to, let alone worry about it.

So on Wednesday, I oven-cooked five pork shoulder blade roasts for eight hours. Normally, Alf does them on the barbeque or the oven...not me! This was my first shot at it and while I was a bit nervous Alf assured me it was just a matter of putting them in and taking them out after eight hours. He was right. The bone slide out of each roast, perfectly clean. So yummy!





I also made our baked beans (I will do that recipe sometime this summer to photograph and share), plus I did coleslaw with homemade dressing. From Costco I picked up a veggie tray, fruit tray, potato salad, Sabra Roasted Red Pepper Hummus, those delicious hexagon chips by Food Should Taste Good, mango salsa and rice crackers. We also ordered a party sushi tray as part of the appies, and our favorite fruit and whipped cream cake from Richlea Bakery (where I worked, waaaaay back when).



{The cake with Dad's UofA Engineering grad picture}


{The only picture of the food in its ready-to-be-eaten state, my dad's plate. We pan-toasted the buns, which makes a world of difference}


Alf had to work all day, so the kids and I got our things together that morning and set out early afternoon to bring our overnight things to my in-laws and then head over to my parents. Well, with some very secretive phone calls, Mom let me know they were not home yet and needed to stay out for a bit yet. Jeff had caught a morning bus down from Pemby to help out, so the kids and I picked him up and went into town and found some last minute decor items.



{Whipped together a last-minute 'checkered flag' balloon banner. Taeya first noted it was the colors of a skunk, which she had seen at Tara's bridal shower}






{Having fun waiting for the party to start}


Finally, Dad left on a business call into West Vancouver (how awesome!), that was created by someone he works with on a somewhat regular basis. He was kept out and about until about 6:30pm. So in the meantime, Mom, Auntie Irene (my dad's sister), Jeff, Tara and I prepped our last minute things, decorated, set up and started welcoming guests. The kids were so eager to help with the surprise, so as we waited in the backyard, Taeya and Ezra ran to the front of the house and excitedly told Grandpa they had to show him something in the backyard. He said he just had to put some things inside, but Taeya wonderfully insisted he had to come with her first. He said he wanted a hug from them but again, she stuck to our 'no excuses' guidelines and told him she'd hug him after he came to the backyard. They came through the breezeway and we sang Happy Birthday as Dad stood very surprised and stunned.

{Waiting...this is what Dad saw when he came through the breezeway}










{Uncle Dave had done with Dad and the other gentleman on the business call...I'm sure he was 'defending' himself here}


{Trying to figure out what clues his missed during the day}








{Trying to compose himself}




{"59.5"}


{Ezra was so excited to show him all the features on his new walker}


{Dad went around and greeted all his guests...still very shocked}






{I know he hugged someone twice...so overwhelmed he was just hugging and thanking, etc.}


I brought the kids to my inlaws around bedtime; Alf was there showering, and we went back to my parents, where my dad got everyone singing Happy Birthday to Alf. And we ate, had fun and stayed up late. We walked back to my inlaws around 11:30 and almost got sprayed by a skunk and also passed between a couple of racoons.





{Such a great yard for a party! And the rain stopped so we could be outside :) The grass was verrry wet, so after we surprised him, we basically stayed to the patio areas}


{Darrell was very excited to use Dad's wine-bottle opener. As he was telling me that Dad never lets him use it, Dad walked in and tried to take over!}








{This lovely couple on the left are my parents' neighbors that moved in a few years ago. Such a sweet couple and so much fun!}


{I guess we let Dad get changed out of his work clothes}


{Kids corner}


{Blurry, but I love it}


{Siblings. Nina was nearly there. She worked until 5:30 and then immediately jumped in the truck (work clothes and all) and drove straight down. She's awesome}












{We requested no gifts, but you know these people just can't contain themselves.}




{Mom's older than Dad by a month and a half...not that you can tell...}




{He figured out pretty quickly what Mom got him}


{Beautiful! Carved out of yellow cedar, the aroma was incredible and it is so beautiful!}




{Me and the birthday boy}




The next morning after breakfast, we went back to my parents to pick things up, and sat while the others had a waffle breakfast.





All in all, a great, successful surprise party!