Dad's speech

Today is Father's Day. I am one of the lucky ones. I absolutely adore my dad (not to mention my husband, father-in-law and grandpas), and I think he likes me too. 

This is the speech he gave at our wedding. I think it will give you insight into the man who raised me and whom I'm proud to call my dad. Like I said, I am so lucky.

Today I am known as the father of the bride.

I used to be known as the man who lived with 4 blondes.

Those of you who know me, know that I love my girls.

Those of you know me REALLY well, know that I REALLY love my girls.

As you hold your newly born daughters for the first time, the last thing you think of are sons-in-law. And as of today I have 3 sons in law.

Just the other day Joan said something that I thought compared me unfavourably to my sons-in-law. So I said, other than being

Young

Smart

Rich

Handsome

And

Athletic

What do they have that I ain’t got?

She said hair and good grammar.

I should mention that all 3 of the sons-in-laws come from boys-only families. Collectively 11 boys, zero girls. None of them have ever lived with a sister.

So I was thinking that I should conduct a seminar on living with a Hendrickson girl. It’s probably too late for Matt, but I think that Tyler might be interested and Adam definitely needs it. There is so much they don’t know.

For instance, they probably don’t know that women don’t ask questions. Questions are only statements in disguise.

For example:

If you think the words – “are you actually going to wear that shirt?” are a question, then you really need to take my seminar.

But today is about Sheri and Adam.

We first met Adam at Pilgrim Pines Camp in New Hampshire a few years ago when we went to visit Sheri who was working there for the summer. Sheri had told us about Adam and wanted us to meet him. When we got there and were about to meet Adam, Sheri told me to act mean because he was scared of me. I tried, but he wasn’t.

But then why would anyone who is

Young
Smart

Rich

Handsome

And

Athletic

With hair and good grammar be scared of anyone.

One day at camp I was walking down the road through camp and I saw Sheri and a couple of her friends approaching me. As they got closer Sheri said something to her friends and although I couldn’t hear her I thought she said, “watch this.” So I was ready.

As we reached each other we didn’t stop and not a word was spoken, but Sheri just stuck out her hand and I pulled mine out of my pocket and put $20 in her hand. As they walked away I could hear one of her friends say,

“How do you do that?”

I didn’t hear her answer, but I suspect it was, I can make him do anything.

Sports have always been an integral part of Sheri’s growing up.

We had family ski passes for many years and we would also usually spend a week at Panorama Resort in BC.

This started when Sheri was about 6 years old, and her first venture on skies was when we were at Panorama. The first day I spent with her on the bunny hill trying to get her to let go of me. She was afraid of falling and leached onto my leg. Finally I discovered that if I skied backwards in front of her she felt comfortable enough to ski on her own. But each day she grew more confident and about the third or fourth day we would take the chair to the top and ski down together. Ability and confidence grew quickly.

On our last day there that week we had taken a warm up run together and were about to get back on the chair when she suddenly darted forward and jumped on the chair ahead of the one we were waiting for. As her chair left she turned around and yelled to me,

“I’ll wait for you at the bottom.” And that’s pretty well the way it has been ever since.

When she was in high school she was very active in Young Life. Among other activities they ran a ball hockey tournament each year. Sheri told me she wanted to play in it so I took it upon myself to teach her some of the finer points of the game. Joan and I were watching her first game when the opposing player with the puck made a move on Sheri and tried to get by her by going between her and the boards. Sheri waited until the last second and then stepped up and just hammered her into the boards. I was thinking what a sweet hit, when the referee blew his whistle and gave Sheri a 2 minute penalty for roughing. I found out later that it was the first time in the history of the girls’ non-contact ball hockey tournament that someone was given a penalty for roughing.

And her father was so proud.

When Sheri was in high school, she attended a school some distance from our home because it was the designated school for the bilingual students. This necessitated taking public transportation each day. One day I questioned her as to why she was leaving for school so early. She told me she like to get there about a half hour early because then she could go into the cafeteria, get a cup of coffee, sit at a table and organize her materials for each of her classes for the day. She said that her day just goes better when she does that. I remember thinking, ‘she’s 16 years old and she’s demonstrating more maturity and smarts than most 60 years olds. Including me.

I was so impressed with this that I convinced her to skip a day of school and go skiing with me in the middle of the week. The beauty of going skiing in the middle of the week is that nobody is there. Never a line up and you can ski hard all day. When we got to the hill it was snowing heavily, which it continued to do all day. The rides up on the chair were miserable but each run down we had an inch of two of fresh powder. We stopped for lunch and went right back out. We skied until the chairs stopped.

As we headed for home I remember wondering if I had pushed her too hard because it was pretty uncomfortable on the chairs and we were very tired. Before I could ask, she turned to me and said, “THAT WAS THE BEST DAY EVER!”

Joan and I have had many great days with Sheri. Many great years.

And we know that Adam and Sheri will have many great years. And we couldn’t be happier for both of them. We obviously think that Sheri is special, but we also think that she has a special guy.

Special guys don’t just happen, they are made. And what makes them is a combination of many things. But by far the biggest thing is FAMILY.

So today I would like to commend Mark and Ann for the job they have done in raising Adam. I’m not sure if older brothers are always a positive influence but I do know that they factored into his upbringing. Your collective values are reflected in Adam.

We all want the best for our children and we love to see them make good choices, and that is why we are here today. They are both making good choices.

So thank you all for coming. The fact that so many of you have chosen to come to this little corner of Canada is an indication of the esteem that you hold for our young people.

We are very proud of them, and somewhat proud of ourselves.

So enjoy the rest of the evening and the rest of the weekend.

Thank you again for coming.

Thank you.

and just like that it's over

Adam in his white coat - first day of residency

Adam has all but finished his residency. He has hung up his white coat.

I must have blinked.

He's spending this month in training for his upcoming Chief Resident duties, and is formally done with his three year residency in internal medicine.

It's over.

It was three years ago that we made the monumental (to us) move from Chicago to Seattle. We had finished our degrees, celebrated in Europe and left behind everything we knew and loved. It was time.

Our first year in Seattle was marked by loneliness, change, excitement, new jobs and a big health scare from our cat, Jack (which was traumatic at the time). Last year in Boise we dealt with loneliness, change, pregnancy, adjusting to parenthood, and the intense trauma of my mom's cancer. And now, somehow, it's been almost a whole year that we have been back in Seattle. This time there has been slightly less newness, less loneliness, less change. We came full circle but have landed in a completely different place.

I couldn't tell you just how many hours Adam has worked in the last three years, or how much blood, sweat and tears he has literally shed along the way, but I can tell you he has grown tremendously as a doctor. The wisdom, experience and confidence he has gained is absolutely evident. It has been so much fun to watch. Residency has been good to him, and good for him.

I am so very, very proud of him...

... I am also proud of us.

It has been a hard three years.

It has been a great three years.

It has been a trying three years.

Almost more than anything it has been a short three years.

And just like that they are over.

Adam's white coat - worn out and hung up

(I started to cry while writing this post - so make of that what you will).

one thing we're doing right

We've been Anna's parents for 17 months now. We've had plenty of time to make mistakes, to forget all the resolutions we secretly made about the kind of parents we would be.

We were NOT going to be those parents who let their kid blatantly and repeatedly misbehave, and we were certainly NOT going to be those self-defeating parents who laugh at their kids' bad behaviour. We were going to be consistent and strict and most of all we were not going to be pushed around by some baby.

And then she started to cry - a lot. And now her infant cries have turned into toddler tantrums. She throws a fit at the drop of a hat. To make matters worse she's so dang cute. If she's not threatening us with tears, she's grinning at us with her big buck teeth and crinkly nose, smothering us with kisses or fluttering her long lashes. We are putty in her hands, and at 17 months she knows it well.  So she watches more TV than we like, her pacis make it out of the crib far too often, and she wins the mealtime battle consistently.  We let her do things in the name of 'exploring' and 'learning' that would better be called 'mischievous' or 'ill-advised'. We do not always remember that we will one day reap what we sow.

So yes, we have failed her, we have failed ourselves. We have ignored our unspoken rules of parenting time and time again.We've done what we thought we would never do and haven't been as consistent as we had planned.

But - giving myself some grace - there are some things that we have done absolutely right. She's bursting with life and smiles and kisses, friendly to a fault and scarily charming. She is smart and she is inquisitive. She is funny. She is loving and curious and very much her own person. She is adventurous, knows no fear and is silly, silly, silly. She observes the world around her and then assuredly asserts herself in it. She commands attention and works a crowd. She is bold, she is unabashed, she is precocious. She is - ahem - determined. She is affectionate. She is secure. She is happy. We may not be able to take credit for these characteristics, but we can take credit for nurturing them.

Most importantly, I dare say that we have succeeded in our number one goal, one so important that we put it into words.

She is well-loved and she knows it.

More than anything in this whole wide world I want Anna to know that she is loved.

Some worry about spoiling their kids with love. I may worry about spoiling her with possessions or permissiveness, but not with love. It's not possible.

So I kiss her 80 million times a day. I play with her. I sing silly songs to her. I commend her when she's been good and gently reprimand her when she is not. I hold her close and whisper in her ear that she is loved, that she is strong, that her creator doesn't make mistakes, that she makes me proud. I tell her how excited I am to spend the day with her, how blessed I am to be her mama. I beam at her and clap with her and give her more and more kisses.

Sometimes late at night as we're falling asleep Adam and I will ask each other, "do you think she knows how much we love her?" We cannot say for sure. But it's pretty clear that the answer is yes.

You cannot love somebody this much and not have them know it. There is no hiding it.

We love her and she knows she is loved.

That is something that we are doing right.

The decades old debate

I expected that having a baby would change any feelings I had about staying at home versus going back to work. What I didn't expect was that it would leave me even more conflicted.

Now I understand with my heart as well as my head why some parents don't want to return to work. I completely understand not wanting to leave your children if you have a choice. I understand enjoying being with your baby so much that you don't want to miss one single second. I believe that many feel more fulfilled in caring for their children than they ever did at their day job. I agree that caring for your children is as trying, demanding and draining (if not more so) than a typical job. I am painfully aware that child care costs can be hard to justify. As expected, I have an even deeper understanding, empathy and desire to support those who stay at home. I get it. I do.

But...

I also see that working outside the home can bring a much needed balance to one's life. I get that adult interaction can be sorely missed. I understand wanting to feel like your own person, apart from your child, for a few hours a day. I understand wanting to perform and excel and be challenged professionally. I can imagine that many must miss their jobs, their coworkers, their office. I understand craving a regular schedule - `to get up each morning, shower and get dressed. I know full well how weekends aren't really weekends unless they are different than work days. I understand, empathize and fully relate to those who choose to go back to work. I will always have their back. I get it. I do.

So I was right. Having a kid of my own did change how I feel about the whole thing. Except I still don't have any answers.

If I had a job to go back to, I know what I would do. What would be best for me. But I don't. And I stay at home. For now. And perhaps for longer. Until the perfect job lands at my feet. And I love it and hate it. I'm busy and bored and challenged and fulfilled and lonely and content and unhappy all at once. I cherish every moment I have been given with her and yet I desperately long for some space. I want to get a job and yet I don't ever want to give this up.

It doesn't make much sense.

And there is no right answer.

At least not for me.

The tornadoes and the flood

A year ago we got news that mom was in the hospital and that they were running tests. They didn't know what they were looking for.

A year ago we got news that they found cancer on her liver. Metastatic.

A year ago we were hit with a tornado.

Suddenly, completely and without warning. The pain was violent.

We reeled. We reached out to each other. We hung on for dear life. We reeled some more.

Then there was a lull in the storm and we started to hope. It looked like it probably wasn't cancer after all. We waited for results. Tentatively, we hoped.

A second tornado hit. Absolute in its devastation.

We were wrong. It was cancer.

The pain was violent.

We held each other up. Taking turns being strong and being scared. We cried together and hoped together. We read and researched and clung to every encouraging word we could find. We waded through the uncertainty and sought desperately for answers and found very few. My sisters gave birth to their babies, I took care of mine, and together we rejoiced in what we could.

We mustered up all the strength we had. We have a lot.

Two tornadoes.

Now a flood.

The waters are slowly rising and we can see them approaching. It's terrifying. But we have been given time. Time to save what's most important. Time to evaluate. Time to act.

Time to fight.

So we're building up walls. Calling in reinforcements. The best doctors, the most cutting edge treatments. Blessing upon blessing.

Progress, research, hope.

And prayers. We're building a fortress on the prayers of the hundreds - no thousands - who are lifting mom up in prayer.

The rising waters are a formidable foe indeed, but we've been given time and we're fighting the fight. A fight we're going to win.

The news hit us like a tornado.

Now we're dealing with a flood.

I resolve

I don't make new year's resolutions.

But this year I'm going to be intentional about some things. I resolve to make room for some more of what I love - what brings me joy, pleasure, contentment, peace - and fight against the insidious habits that take up too much room in my life. I need this.

So may 2012 bring:

more reading - I haven't read ONE SINGLE book in 2011 - I used to average about one a week.
more writing - I don't want to admit how much I love writing. But I do.
more exercise- kickboxing, stroller strides, boot camp - etc., I miss exercising. I haven't done more than take the occasional walk since we moved from Boise. This is a gaping hole in my life.
reinvestment in some lapsed friendships - I embrace the constant evolution of relationships and don't fight against change. However, there are some old friends that I simply miss, and would love to reconnect with.
less McDonalds - this is not a joke.
baby free time - Time that is just me. The adult me.
something new - take a class? start a book club? learn how to sew?
more DIY - I realize I have sold myself short. I've have some good success. I'm going to keep trying my ideas out.
on that note, less selling myself short.
less worrying.
more hoping.
more enjoying.
more grace.
more peace.

Here's to a new year. I resolve to not let it pass me by unheeded.

Merry Christmas card

The Lord has come,

Let Earth receive her King!

Merry Christmas from the Johnsons! Adam is finishing his last year of Internal Medicine residency at the U of W after an eventful year spent in Boise, Idaho. Anna Grace joined us last November and is the cutest, funniest, smartest, most-loved baby we have ever had! Adam starts as Chief Resident at the Seattle Veteran's Hospital in June, and so we look forward to at least another year and a half in beautiful Seattle. It feels more like home each day.

We are grateful for you, our family and friends. Thank you for your love, support and prayers throughout this last year. It has meant so much to us. Please keep them coming!

Praying that peace, goodwill with all abide this Holy Christmas tide,

The Johnsons