The summer we met – repeated and remixed

Ya know that feeling you get when you leave town for the weekend? The too-excited-to-sleep-the-night-before kind. When all you can think about the week leading up to your weekend away is your weekend away. When your patience level with the world is at zero on travel day.

On Friday, I got in my car and drove. The Twin Cities were congested – road work and weekend traffic plus typical rush hour made for quite the crawl. I Siri-texted successfully and unsuccessfully as I sat on the highway impatient to get up to 75 mph!

I Garmin-ed the last part of the drive as my final destination was not one I was familiar with. The drive, once I was at a cruising altitude of 75 (ahem, 80), set me in the mood for up north time. Much needed. Going Up North to the woods and lakes is on my “to do or die” list every five or six months and sometimes it appears on my list every month.

I took in the views of trees and lonely roads. Paralleled train tracks, power lines, and telephone lines as they led me farther and farther north.

To friends.

Unaccustomed to the town I stayed in, I will admit that I got lost. Not horribly, but slightly. Embarrassing since the town is the size of a pea.

After some new directions from my friend like “turn left at the dive bar,” I arrived at her home. She welcomed me with hugs and toured me around her little place. Dinner was served and we chatted about the next day’s events. Checked the weather and discussed layers. The rest of our night? We spent it downloading music, mainly country, comparing playlists, and watching You Tube videos. How juvenile, you may say, but it fits us rather nicely. It’s what we did when we used to see each other every day for three months straight.

Saturday arrived with clouds and cold. We Under Armour-ed up and hit the road.

Our day was spent cleaning a place very near and dear to our hearts. We jumped right in and knew the lay of the land. We knew the ropes and flew through our indoor tasks in time to help with some outdoorsy tasks – the kinds that get dirt on your hands and make you stronger.

After that, we took a vehicle into the woods. Woods we lived in. Woods we love.

We spent the day together. And with a handful of wonderful people. Friends.

Then we said our goodbyes, with promises to return, and headed back to my friends’ house.

Showering and washing off the day’s dirt, we drove back toward a town, country music on the radio, and ate a meal at a place that never disappoints. The Kings/Blues game was on, but mainly I just talked to my friend. We laughed and told stories – real and pretend – and then when our hard day’s work caught up with us, we left.

Throwing on pj’s and brushing our teeth, we readied ourselves for a movie. Options were thrown out and narrowed down. Landing on a movie, we chose our couch and sat down.

Halfway through the movie my friend exclaimed, “I like how we’re both so into this movie! It’s a total guy movie!”
True, it was, but we both enjoyed the drama, suspense, and action. And we tend to bond in moments like those. History proves it.

Sleeps came easily that night. I dreamt of mouse droppings and cleaning supplies. Sweet dreams.

Sunday morning we drove back toward a town and ate a big, hearty breakfast. A delicious way to start our day.

We wandered through some favorite stores. And then it was time to part ways. Hugs and goodbyes and promises to make these visits more often.

I hung around a bit longer. Another dear friend was just getting back in town, a town we stomped around in a few years back. We met for cold coffee drinks and caught up on our personal and professional lives. Big changes were announced. Exciting and scary all in one. We discussed the future and our past.

Again, we said our goodbyes. She rushed off to an outdoorsy activity and I hit the road back to the Cities.

The weekend, though over, was good. Great. Fabulous.

It was good. To hear how my friends and I have changed. To see how we’re the same people we were back then. Back when we were together all day. Every day.

A summer changed us. Shaped us. Brought us together. And now, a new summer dawns and new adventures await. But with these two friends, we’ll always remember our summer. Together.

The Minnesota Way on a Minnesota Day

FSNorth

Jack Jablonski has done it. He’s brought our entire state closer. Brought out the sportsmanship. The generosity. The love and support. Of every true-blooded Minnesotan.

Hockey fans and non-hockey fans, we’re all on board. We’re all supporting him. His courageous efforts, his never-ending smile, and his heart for others.

All of this support has been pretty evident since his life-altering injury in December. But the amount of money raised on Saturday during Hockey Day Minnesota for the Jack Jablonski fund - that support, that love, that generosity – was on full display.

Numbers don’t lie and neither do I.

$134, 045.

That’s how much money was raised in a day. A hockey day. In Minnesota.

The money, every last penny, is going toward Jack Jablonski. Toward his recovery. Toward his efforts. Toward a safer ice for all players.

That’s the Minnesota Way. To go on with the show – to play another game (16 hours worth of games). To support one of our own. To come together for a cause. To reach into our pockets to help out a neighbor.

Fitting. To have a day dedicated to hockey. Dedicated to helping a prep player.

If you ask me, I think what this world needs is more days like Saturday. More Minnesota Days filled with hockey where helping hands are raised and ready to cheer on one of our own.

 

 

 

 

 

MN stories so incredible they must be true.

Tragedies like Jack Jablonski’s often have treasures of hope hidden within the pains and sorrows. These kinds of things don’t just happen-they happen for a reason.

To show us what really matters. To remind us who to love. To prove to us that Grace exists for all.

This http://www.startribune.com/sports/preps/136948448.html. This incredible story, a very only-in-Minnesota story, just brought tears to my tired eyes.

Not to mention the paper today which reported that Jack’s mom visited Jenna Privette-another character in this January’s injury laden tale-in the hospital. Jenna, injured after Jack, had organized and supported funds for Jablonski at her school. She had encouraged teammates to join the “white out” craze. And she had even changed her Facebook profile to reflect her support of Jack. Because thats what Minnesotan’s do. Her part in Jack’s fundraiser tied her to Jack’s story. And now her own spinal cord injury will forever link the two Minnesota high school hockey players together.

And that fact is indescribable. I find it surprising that these stories still surprise me. I am always awe struck at the human story. The story that weaves people together due to illness and injury. The story that can be looked at as glass half empty or glass half full. The story of young and old reshaping their lives-people who look to assist others in all they do.

These stories from the hockey world in Minnesota – Jack’s and Jenna’s are setting the stage for more heart warming anecdotes of people helping people.

That’s why I love this State. That’s why I love the sport. That’s why I love these youth.

Week in review: Stories of 2012. What more can this year possibly bring us?

MN Meditations Original Instragram photo via facebook profile pics

This week needs to start over again. This year needs to start over again. It needs to go back to where it came from. Back to the eve of the New Year.

What 2012 ushered in is a whole lot of hard-to-believe moments.

My days are completely messed up right now after my Christmas vacation (which wasn’t really vacationy – unless you count the no-sleep-sleep-in routine I mastered while never changing out of my pj’s.
So, my first week “back” (to work, life, and blogging), came as a bit of a surprise to me. And ever since cancer & chemo, nothing has really surprised me.

Excpet for this week.

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In life there are names we hear and easily forget.  And then there are names we hear that strike our hearts – names that make us stop forgetting names and start remembering people and their stories.

These are their stories.

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Jack Jablonski. 16 years old. #13. Hockey player. Benilde St. Margaret’s.

Like the hit Jack  never saw coming, so also did his life; it changed with one instant in one game by one hit. He had no choice; the accident took his 16 years of living and rearranged the story. A story him and his family have to live out – chapter by chapter.

Jack is receiving the care he needs and the overwhelmingly necessary support of the hockey community. A community that knows how to take care of its own.

Jack’s prognosis is grim, but the hockey world keeps hoping and praying.

#13 In our hearts.

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Alissa Haines. 15.

Her name won’t pull as many hits as Jack’s. But that doesn’t diminish her name or story.

Life, as her family knew it, changed. They had no choice. She did. Everyone does. So as many hardships as this life throws at us, at Jack and his family, it’s worth the risk. When you take out the risk, you take away the opportunity to experience life the way it is meant to be lived.

But Alissa’s family and friends still need support. Just like Jack’s family and friends need support.

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A Minnesota Mite. 8.

Not just any Mite. But one of my buddies from back in my mini-van-soccer-practice-I’ll-let-you-stay-up-late-don’t-tell-your-parents days.

A kid I’ve watched grow up from toddlerhood to elementary school. Just thinking about him makes me smile. And tired. Active hardly describes this kid – his enthusiasm and happy-go-lucky-spirit and hard-core competitiveness are unparalleled.

And this week, with Jack and Alissa’s names and stories on the tips of people’s tongues, my little buddy was playing in his own Mite game.

And he took a hard fall into the boards. He laid on the ice without moving. Crying. His lower back was tender and sore, trainers, coaches, and paramedics confirmed it was not broken. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that it was scary – for him and his newbie hockey mom and family.

He was taken to an ER – just in case. And when he sat in a wheelchair, he asked his mom, “Am I going to be in this forever?”

His name won’t pull up any search results in Google or Yahoo. You won’t find videos or profile pics supporting him or his family, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a story.

He’s on the mend. Back in school; his buddies and classmates called to make sure he was all right. Hockey parents supported the newbie hockey mom.

It’s a rough way to enter the hockey community, but a welcome I know the mom appreciates.

Life changed a bit for my active friend. No sports for a week. Signed up for everything and anything, as well as just running around the house, my little buddy is going a bit stir crazy. That’s a good sign. One to be extrememly grateful for.

Who knows how long my little buddy will stay in this Minnesota sport. All I know is that I’m grateful for his story – a reminder that even the youngest names have important stories to tell.

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A girl and her grandpa.

Earlier this week I was informed of a loss. A loss of someone I did not have  the privilege of knowing. But a loss that was hard to swallow for a family I have come to know over the past year.

The grandfather died just before Christmas from an aggressive cancer; one in which he beat all odds and lived longer than the doctors thought possible.

Like many grandparents, he left behind a family – kids, grandkids, and greatgrandkids. Networked in with the grandkids, I was asked to be there at the visitation and funeral for support.

And so I went, on this week with Jack, Alissa, and a Minnesota Mite’s names in my heart. I didn’t know anyone in attendance, except the family who requested my presence. I didn’t know the person we were honoring, but I honored him because of his family – the family he left behind.

Life changed for this family, right before the most magical time of the year. I glimpsed at this great man’s life through pictures in the funeral home. Pictures with the family and kids that I am connected to. The kids showed me the pictures commenting on how much they liked or disliked ones with them in it. One of the kids told me, “There’s a lot of pictures.” And I simply asked, “Do you like looking at the pictures?” Her response was, “Yeah, I do.” When I asked if the pictures made her happy or sad, she replied, “Happy and sad – both.”

The name of her grandpa will draw some hits, people stumbling upon obituaries thinking it’s just another grandpa. But it’s never just another grandpa. Even when it’s not your grandpa. It’s someone’s grandpa.

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Needless to say, I’m a bit tired from the emotions of this week. From the physical tiredness of getting back into normal sleep patterns and a busier than normal work week.

This is just the beginning of the year. But for so many people this week, it is the end of life as they knew it.

These are the stories of tragedy, hope, and comfort that I want to remember throughout this year. The names I want to know at the end of 2012.

If this is just the beginning, what else will 2012 bring us?

Whatever it brings you, remember it.