Great Things About the South

I believe in making lemonade out of lemons and laughing when you feel like crying. So, although moving was super hard, I’ve come up with a lot of things already that are great about living in the South.

1. It’s warm. I mean, really, truly warm. Today it was nearly 70 on December 2nd. I had the windows open. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. Who cares if it doesn’t feel like Christmas? I’d rather feel like summer.

2. On that note, I can wear sandals in the winter! Yes!

3. Sweet tea.

4. Within 5 minutes of my house is a Starbucks. Also several grocery stores. Widen the radius to 10 minutes and we have a SuperTarget, Ulta, Bath and Body Works, Kohls, Old Navy, Payless Shoes and just about any restaurant you could want.

5. Yet on the other hand, the view out my back deck is nothing but woods and pine trees. It feels like we live in a little cabin in the woods. It’s quiet and peaceful here in our little Georgia home.

6. Apparently there are no need for ice scrapers here. I asked for one the other morning. “A what!” my friend, Cody replied. “You know an ice scraper to get the ice off my window.” He just looked at me funny, prancing with impatience to GET GOING HELLO!? and sipped his coffee. “We don’t have those here.” “What do you DO!?”  He just looked at me like I was an idiot, “We wait for it to melt.” Oh. Stupid me, of course!!

7. You can carry a handgun in Georgia. I don’t know, I just have always wanted to. So I’m gonna. :) Seriously, I saw this dude on his motorcycle with a gun in a holster on his hip! Whoa, that’s cool.

8. Best of all, I have fast internet. So I can use Facebook and Skype to keep in touch with all my Minnesota friends that I miss so much!

What I’ve Learned

We’ve lived more than 9 years here in Duluth. That’s the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere in my entire 38 years. It’s hard to say good-bye. We truly thought we’d call Duluth home forever and it’s hard to find out it’s not going to be; to pack up and find ourselves finding a home in a new, unfamiliar area of the country. I am a completely changed person than I was 9 years ago. I was 29 with a newborn when we moved here. I’m now nearing forty, with a teenager driving, a middle schooler and a 9 year old.

Some stream-of-consciousness ramblings from my nearly-middle-aged brain as I set out on a new adventure.

1. I am fiercely loyal to my friends. That has always been true, but is even more so after this season here in Fond du Lac. If I have told you I love you, I will love you and defend you til my death. I will sacrifice my personal reputation and comfort for my friends.

2. On the opposite side of this I’ve discovered what a true friend is; and is not. If you say you are my friend but in the end don’t bother to hear my story, remain loyal to me or support me in crisis, I will drop you like a hot potato. I’ve learned a true friend supports you through thick and thin and you can say anything and they will listen to you. A true friend will love you will all your faults and is there at a moments notice. A true friend believes the best about you. I don’t need or have the time and energy for the drama of false friends. See ya later.

3. I have a voice. For many years I was afraid to speak my mind in my own home. I’ve learned that in order to have a marriage that works, you have to be honest. You have to be true to who you are and let the chips fall where they may. You have a voice, a dream that matters, and a personality that is all your own. It’s a gift to cherish.

4. I still hate to be cold. More than almost anything in the world I hate being cold. Not in the way like born and bred Minnesotans say, “Oh I hate the cold,” but being cold feels painful to me. And yet I’ve also learned how to thrive and adapt in the cold. I’ve learned to snowshoe, cross country ski and downhill ski. But, I still hate to be cold. SmartWool is my friend. And so is summer.

5. My love for shoes has only grown. There must be a drug in shoes. All I know is I’m addicted. If buying shoes is wrong, I don’t want to be right.

6. I’ve always identified myself as a “Christian.” And yet my faith has been rocked these past few years. Those who identify themselves that way have been the most spiteful, mean, gossiping people I’ve ever met in my life and have made our lives a literal living hell. And others who don’t necessarily wear any label at all except that of a good friend and neighbor have been the most kind, generous, loving and Christian people I’ve known. Here’s what I know for sure: Jesus is the Son of God and he died on the cross for my sins. Can we agree to disagree on the rest and quit being so spiteful? If being a “Christian” means I have to be in one group or the other, I choose the friends and neighbors who have had my back this year. God knows everyone’s hearts and you know, when you think about that, that’s a scary thing.

7. I’m not perfect. Whoa, shocking revelation, huh? I’ve always been a perfectionist and beat myself up when I’ve failed. But, I’ve failed big time these past few years. And my friends and family still love me. Wow.

8. I’m stronger than I think. I can handle way more than I ever thought possible. More physical hardship. More emotional hardship. I can bloom where I’m planted and stand on my own two feet. I am the hero in my own story.

9. Sometimes life turns upside down and completely not the way you thought it would. Things happen to you and your family that you never would have chosen for them. Being out of control of your life is sometimes not something you would choose, but it happens. I can’t protect my kids, but I can prepare them. I can do everything I can to help them be the strongest they can be for life’s ugly circumstances. Life just plain old sucks sometimes. I hate that I can’t make my kids life all rosy, but I can always, always be there for them. I am their Mom, I brought them into this world and I’m responsible to help them through the best way I know how. I have to accept I’m going to fail at that task too sometimes, but we’re all doing the best we can together.

10. Everything happens for a reason. ‘Nuff said.

11. Wearing a mask never works. We tried that one here in our family for a lot of years and eventually the facade cracks. The pastor’s family is a family just like yours. We have major issues. We come to the edge of divorce. We fight. We make mistakes. We learn and grow and change through them. But pretending everything’s ok when it’s not only hurts and makes things worse. Being honest with everyone around me is freaking people out right now, but it’s been so liberating! I highly recommend honesty.

12. The fishbowl life is not for me. I’ve done it for 16 years and I’m through. Although I’m broken-hearted to leave such good friends, I can’t tell you how excited I am to just be a normal family. This will be the first time we’ve ever chosen where we want to live, what house we want to live in, the jobs we want to do, the church we want to go to and the friends we want to have. I’m a live wire and now it totally doesn’t freaking matter what I say, wear, do, go, talk to, etc. I can breathe again.

13. Having neighbors who are also your friends is something I have wanted my whole life and I finally had that here in Fond du Lac. That is a huge blessing I do not take for granted. In this day and age you often can’t trust those you live next door to, but here we have had the best neighbors, whose homes have been our homes. We’ve been family to them. I know I want that again, but I don’t know if I’ll ever have it. I was lucky here, and I’m grateful.

14. The last year especially has been our most difficult year. It has separated the sheep from the goats if you will. We’ve discovered our true friends. I think this quote by Henri Nouwen sums up the most important lessons I’ve learned here:

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand.

Southern Comfort

Well I just need a place to lay my head
Forget the chain that hangs around my neck
These guns are not as heavy as the hearts they defend
I can't wait to get back home where I can find some rest

When I lay down my guns and lift my hands
Surrender to Love and live again
May this desert reach its end where my new life begins
When I lay down my guns and lift my hands

And I have seen the devil in this place
And I lost myself when my friends found the grave
When you're this far from Heaven
It's hard to keep the faith
I'm barely holding on
I can't wait to

Lay down my guns and lift my hands
Surrender to Love and live again
May this desert reach its end where my new life begins
When I lay down my guns and lift my hands

And I'm laying down these burdens
Taking off the weights
And I can't count the miles that I've walked to find my way
To lay down these guns
How I need to lay down these guns
Lay down my guns and lift my hands
Surrender to Love and live again
May this desert reach its end where my new life begins
And I'll abandon my defenses and live to love again
When I lay down my guns and lift my hands

-Sanctus Real

It’s been said many times we are in a war. And in a war, there are often casualties. The ministry is the front lines of that war and our family has been on the front lines for 16 years. The past 3 or 4 we have taken particularly heavy fire. The losses and hits have been heavy. Nathan and I are wounded and bleeding and lying far apart on this battlefield. Our children are in between. Laura, who is old enough to understand the issues at stake in this war, is also bleeding profusely, dazed and confused. Nate and Daniel are stumbling around somewhere in between, ears ringing from the gunfire, unsure why the world around them has been shaken so severely.

The church was never intended to be this way. The church should build families up and bring them together and more than anything should support those who serve them and should build their faith. Unfortunately, our family is battered and bruised and my faith for sure is severely shaken.

Sometimes even the bravest, strongest, generals know that retreat is the wisest move. And so, our family is laying down our guns and retreating. We are gathering up our wounded, circling the wagons and retreating.

When we moved to Duluth nine years ago, we were in a similar, though not quite so severe situation. We hoped Fond du Lac would be a refuge for us. In a magazine from VisitDuluth.com I found, and cut out, this little advertisement for Duluth. It’s been on my fridge for 9 years. It says this:

Maybe it’s time to recapture some of that youthful exuberance. Time to get out of Dodge, so to speak. Time to take the family away and bring them back together. Who knows? You could end up just as excited as you used to be.

And so that’s exactly what we are doing. We quit our jobs. We are moving South, far, far away to Atlanta, GA. We’re getting the heck outta Dodge. Nathan and I are leaving the ministry, the battle, the fishbowl. We’re going to try being “average joes” for awhile. Nope, we don’t know what we’re gonna do. And until 5 p.m. today we weren’t even sure exactly where we were gonna live. At least that is now taken care of.

http://www.trulia.com/property/3033924198-522-River-Pl-Woodstock-GA-30188

I’m being perfectly open and honest here. The last few years have been hell for our family, our kids, our marriage. We are going to go try to put it all back together somehow. A fresh start. A new beginning. We may have lost a battle, but we haven’t lost the war.

Who knows? We could end up just as excited as we used to be.

It’s Not About the Purse

It’s been an “interesting” summer to say the least. Our family has been through some pretty major upheaval. We are all going through major changes personally, emotionally, spiritually and in our family life. Some of these changes have been evident to everyone around us. I mean, obviously everyone knew Nathan took a sabbatical and then resigned from the ministry. But, some of the other changes, the why behind it all haven’t been so obvious. But, they are so super important.

We’ve been playing a dangerous game here in the Sahlberg family and in the church at large. A game of wearing masks to disguise who we really are to fit in to a group and meet their expectations and to pretend everything is ok when it really isn’t. And I’m willing to take the fall for this one; I’m the one who put the brakes on it all. I simply got sick of the whole dance. I got tired of the game. I got sick of pretending we were ok when we weren’t. Pretending to be something we weren’t. And being forced into a mold that just didn’t fit me or any of us. So, for once in my life I stood up and said, “I Quit!” It was scary. I wasn’t sure if my husband would agree, but I knew none of us could continue the way we were anymore. I was hurting, my kids were hurting and my husband was hurting even though he didn’t know it yet.

Lois Evan said, “Submission is learning to duck so God can hit your husband.”

I realized that being quiet was not ok, it was not getting us anywhere. And it wasn’t Christian either. The Bible is full of strong, independent women like Esther, Deborah and Ruth who stood up and took the first step toward change.

The past 5 months have been unbelievably painful. But I’ve learned at least one valuable lesson about myself and here it is (thanks to both my friend, Nick, and my counselor, Laura) (and yes, that’s right, I am in counseling, so what?)

Ready? It’s HUGE!!!!

It’s not about the purse!!!


Huh? Yeah, you knew it was going to involve fashion with me, right?

Let me explain.

Let’s say you want to be in a certain group, but to fit in you have to carry a $2000 designer purse, but you can’t afford it, so you decide to go be in another group where you only have to carry a $200 purse. And in THAT group you will have the coolest purse. So you get the purse and everyone admires you and you are the IT girl in that group. But, guess what, it’s not about the purse!

Once you realize that, you can buy whatever purse YOU like and whatever purse fits YOUR personality. And then you can move about through any group you want. And in every group some people will like you and some won’t, but who cares? Because it’s not about the purse.

The problem I was having, and I think a lot of us have is, I had a whole closet full of purses (theoretical purses here, ok???) and on any given day I was totally stressed out because I had to get up and pick the RIGHT purse for the situation and group and hope I had it right. But, none of those purses fit ME!

So, I threw them all out! Every singe one. Cuz I hated them all. Hated them with a passion. And I bought a new purse. Just one. That purse screams MOLLY! And I don’t care if you like my purse or not. It’s MY purse and it’s the one I carry.

I’ve discovered something. People who pretended to like my purse before at least are honest now about hating my new purse and people who didn’t really like my old collection of purses LOVE my new purse.

And more importantly: I love my new purse.

Dazzled

I had “one of those days.” I was given the runaround today between my prescription company and my hospital, trying to refill a prescription. Between the two of them, neither would help me, neither would cooperate and neither would authorize my prescription. By the end of the conversation I was crying in frustration. And frustrated that as a girl, I cry when I’m frustrated. The guy on the phone at the prescription company actually said to me, “It’s not that no one wants to help you ma’am we just don’t do that here.” You just don’t do what!? Help me!? ARGH!!!

I left for work, worked a long day and then had a longer meeting and got home at 9 pm. I haven’t even seen my daughter today except to drive her to work this morning.

I arrived home to, finally, one good thing.

My double ShoeDazzle order had arrived.

OK, I’m easily placated; easily made happy. If that makes me shallow, sue me.

What normal girly-girl wouldn’t be soothed by the site of THESE waiting for her at the end of a long, frustrating day?

And to top it all off? Nathan surprised me with an outfit I showed him a week ago at my favorite Canal Park store.

Sweet dreams tonight. Too bad I can’t sleep in my new attire. But. . .I could sleep NEXT to my new shoes. . .

Through the Garden Gate: July, The Early Harvest

Last year our friend, Don, gardener extraordinaire, gave us six strawberry plants. We planted them, and although we wanted to test a few berries, I dutifully pulled off each, early flower, because I knew this would yield a greater crop the next year and allow the plant to put all of its energy into the plant.

This year our six plants have morphed into over one hundred plants. And they are covered with berries. Big, beautiful, juicy strawberries.

The rest of my garden is still growing; the beans just beginning to flower. Harvest is still a month off, but these first berries give me hope and bring great delight to our tummies!

I know I’ve used a lot of garden metaphors for life, but I’m a gardener, so I see a lot similarities. And I spend a lot of time alone among my plants, so maybe it makes me weird that way.

I find myself, after many years of hard work, finally entering the early harvest in my parenting. I’ve done a lot of plowing, a lot of weeding, a lot of pruning. And I can honestly say much of what I now enjoy with my daughter, as in gardening, is a product of the Master Gardener. As in gardening, we can do our best, but in the end we simply have to sit back and pray. Pray for the right amount of sun and rain and just the right soil for all of our hard work to take root. There’s great freedom in knowing you’ve done your best and then leaving the rest in God’s hands.

Even when we begin to enjoy the fruit of the early harvest; the joy of friendship with our kids in the middle teen years, there is still sometimes hard work left to do. Still weeding and pruning. If I just picked my berries and left them alone, I would have no berries next year. As I pick, I pull weeds. The same is true in my daughter’s life. It’s a fine balance, this delicate dance between girlhood and womanhood. I struggle with it everyday; finding just the right mix between friend, advisor, parent, coach. When do I step in? When do I say hands off? When do I listen? When do I speak? When do I giggle with her and when do I admonish?

And not far behind are two more unique plants that need lots of tending.

But, how blessed I am to tend these gardens. Gardens of earth and plants and gardens of hearts, minds and lives. There is no greater privilege in my estimation.

Grief That Does Not Speak

They say only death and taxes are inevitable. However, after having been around the block once or twice, I would have to argue that grief is also inevitable. Every single human being on this earth will face a trial, a heartache, a loss that will cause unspeakable grief inside their heart.

Each person’s grief may be different and the way they express it is also different. What causes our grief is myriad. The loss of a child, a parent, a spouse. A health crisis. A relationship crumbling. A move. War.

Through the seasons of grief I have walked through and am currently walking through, one thing has become, sadly clear. We are uncomfortable with grief in our culture. Most guys can’t stand it when women cry. Yet crying allows release of our deepest emotions. Crying and talking through our grief and feelings allows us to talk through our pain and heal. Although this is true, I have rarely found a person willing and able to listen to deep sorrow. I have been told many a time, “Get over it, you’ll feel better soon!” The greatest gift in grief is a listening ear, a hug, a quiet friend.

William Shakespeare had this to say about grief, “Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break.”

The most difficult thing I’ve noticed in grief, especially within “the church” or the Christian community is an unspoken expectation that when we grieve we will do so quickly and quietly without being a bother to others. Where this mistaken notion comes from, I have no idea, but we do ourselves and our brothers and sisters a great disservice with this false idea.

There is no timetable for grief. Every person’s grief looks different. There is no “wrong” or “right” way to grieve. We can not look into a person’s heart and judge the motives and know when they have crossed over into bitterness and unforgiveness.

Having faced grief many times over I can honestly say grief is hard work and takes time; often a lot of time. More time than the non-grieving person can understand. Yet a sensitive friend is the one who comes over at the drop of a hat when you’re having an “ugly cry” and puts her arms around you. She doesn’t say much, just sits and lets you cry. A true friend lets you drop by their house and spill your guts and your rambling thoughts for hours and still loves you and your faults.

The beautiful thing about nurturing friendships in a time of grief is this: grief will come around to all of us. If we have been understanding and helpful to another their time of grief, you can be sure you have a close friend who will do the same for you in your difficult season. Just like the sun comes up in the morning, it will come. And for those who walk through grief, speak your heart, give yourself time, it will get better. I take my own counsel in this: one day, one hour, one step at a time.