Donna Fentanes

I was talking to a co-worker the other day. We were lamenting our lots in life and I said something really bad. In response to, I don’t even remember what, I said, “At least, you’re not stupid.” I was saying, in an unthinking moment, that I consider myself stupid for having ten kids. I don’t know about you, but often I say things I really don’t mean. It’s as if some thought comes in my mind, for instance, a thought that I probably think someone else’s thinking about me, and then I express it as if it were my own. I confess I let that happen a lot. I am my own worst enemy sometimes. Happily, I am trying to quit, thanks to Pink. She encourages me when I hear her lyrics from “Perfect”: Change the voices in your head, make them like you instead.

I went to bed the other night with this regret on my mind. Doesn’t seem like a big deal, does it? But, ya know, it is. I don’t want my kids thinking I think I was stupid having them all. Maybe I bit off more that I could chew – heck, so did Frank Sinatra – but, I emphatically don’t regret it.

For the record, this is what I was thinking then…..and now. First, I loved having babies. I loved the idea of a big family with kids running all over the house. We started our family with that in mind. I delighted in their personalities, their interactions with each other (well, the positive one,s at least). I know things didn’t work out according to the dream; but, despite the difficulties in the detour, I know “all things work for good”.
Second, I believe in a simple life. I didn’t think they needed all the latest gadgets since they were content playing in the mud or building forts or rebuilding broken computers. And, for the record, we probably ate healthier when we had little money (there were some very lean times)…..well, except for the cookies and the Twinkie Store stuff.

Third, I cannot imagine my life without any one of them. Each one has enriched my life and given me a unique joy. Each is a different facet of the beautiful jewel I call my family.

There is a bible verse, Set a guard, O LORD, over my mouth; Keep watch over the door of my lips, that I often remind myself of; however, I need a guard over my thoughts, a first guard, if you will. Before I put my foot in my mouth, I need to check to see if what I am expressing is really something I believe. And when I do say things I don’t mean, it helps to express the truth forcefully like I did above to clear my mind, to even understand why and ultimately know myself more. It is time to retract the thoughts I’ve allowed in my mind that I don’t believe, that I don’t agree with, that harm others, that harm myself. It’s time to trust the true thoughts and dispel the false ones.

THE BALCLUTHA

Once upon a midday dreary, I dropped my daughter in the livery, for a trip on a ship.
The Balclutha!

Eager her mates were to greet her, a quick pic for me they rendered, before the trip to the ship.
The Balclutha!!

Dashed they down to the dock, where they assembled lock and stock, for the trip on the ship.
The Balclutha!

From bow to stern, and hull to mast, the little crew stood aghast. At the barque known as
the Balclutha!

Gently moored at Hyde Street’s door, this tall ship remains ashore. The adventures locked forevermore on
the Balclutha.

Ten and four score minutes was the shift for the novitiates. That night on the barque.
The Balclutha!

No squall, no storm, no gale, no gusts, just the gentle lapping at the husks was the shift upon the barque.
The Balclutha!

Silence broken by barking seals and Ghirardelli blinking very near were the highlights of the trip upon the ship.
The Balclutha!

Now, the crew has dispersed, but they remain fully immersed in the memory of the trip. On the ship.
The Balclutha!

About my blog: I am a mom of 10 kids living in Pacifica. The name of my blog, “From the Shoe”, is swiped from Cheaper By The Dozen’s Lillian Gilbreth’s summer newsletter. The “shoe” reference is to the children’s’ nursery rhyme. I mix humor and philosophical musings with everyday events. I hope you like it. From the Shoe artwork by Alec Maloney.

Hope for the Eighties – Belgium. Summer. 1983.

Forty years ago…

In 1983, summer started in January. From the beginning of my Christian journey, I wanted to be a missionary. The roots of this desire were undoubtedly formed while reading Maryknoll magazines as a young Catholic girl, and loving foreign languages and geography as an elementary student. As much as I wanted to go overseas, I was bound in a lot of fear, fear of the unknown, fear of a lack of faith and fear that I just couldn’t cut it. But things were going to change. That January, the thought of spending the summer with OM (Operation Mobilization) began to grow in my mind like a carefully planted seed.

One of my pastors was familiar with OM’s ministry, and often shared about its unique mission: sending missionaries around the world by faith alone. I was drawn to OM because of that “faith alone” quality; meaning, you must pray for your support and not ask for it, after the faith examples of George Mueller of Bristol and China Inland Mission’s Hudson Taylor. OM permitted you to respond to any inquiries, but you couldn’t bring up the need for funds. Quietly, I mentioned to my church family my desire to go with OM this upcoming summer. That was all. My best friend gave me a journal to record all my OM adventures, inscribing in it my life verse from Isaiah:

“And if you give yourself to the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then your light will rise in darkness, and your gloom will become like midday. And the LORD will continually guide you, and satisfy your desire in scorched places, and give strength to your bones; and you will be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water whose waters do not fail.” (58:10, 11)

Because there were other ministries going on in my church that summer, my little solo jaunt across the pond wasn’t getting that much attention. By March, I had raised only the money I had sent from my part-time job (I was a full-time college student at the time), but, I kept praying. During a prayer meeting later in March, Nikki, the meeting leader, mentioned my trip. She asked in front of everyone if I needed support, I felt free then to share my story. Leslie Weber, to my astonishment, wrote me a check for $400, one-third of my support. I was overwhelmed by her generosity. And God’s guiding hand.

By the end of May, I had nearly all the money I needed for my summer trip. Every little bit that came my way, whether it be from friends, my tax return or income, was immediately forwarded to OM. I was very diligent in this task. Perhaps too diligent.

The weekend before the big departure came. It was Memorial Day weekend, and I was to leave Tuesday morning to catch the Greyhound to Akron for OM’s USA conference; then, together with the other Americans, bus to New York and fly to Zaventum, Belgium. In my excitement and preoccupation in getting my studies and work assignments finished, I failed to purchase my bus ticket to Akron. That Saturday, I realized my neglect. What was I gonna do???

I began to pray in earnest. I was still bound by the faith agreement, so I prayed…I thought maybe someone at church might slip me the money I needed for my bus ticket. Sunday came and Sunday went. Maybe Monday, yes, Monday, someone would come by. Nobody came by, nobody called. Breathe, pray.

Late Monday night, I was finishing some work projects. I was nervous, but just kept praying. My mother came in and asked about the trip. She asked about the bus trip, she then asked specifically about the ticket. I said I didn’t have one yet. She wondered how I was going to get it; I said, very weakly, but resolutely, that I would get it somehow. “Good night,” she said.” Night,” I replied. Yikes!!!

I went to bed late after finishing all the projects. When I woke up the next morning, my mom had already left for work. On my nightstand was an envelope. An envelope with $200 cash from my wonderful mother. God still blesses his hopelessly harried daughters.

Now, once I got to Belgium, which was and perhaps still is, the main meeting place of all the European and American OM Missionary Teams, I had to decide where I wanted to go. I had planned to go to Ireland, I even designed my prayer letter with Irish decals and old Celtic crosses. But, I’ve learned since then that things rarely go as planned. The Irish teams were filled. There was a great need for the Belgian team. I liked Belgium, but I wanted to see a little bit of Europe while I was over there. Alas, after prayer, I decided to stay in Belgium. That choice, that answer to prayer, gave me one of the most pleasurable and gratifying spiritual experiences of my life.

The first month, I was on a team of about 14 men and women, and we were living in Ghent. We lived in a kind of trailer with two large rooms, one for the guys, one for the girls, and one small bathroom with only cold running water. We slept in sleeping bags. The trailer must’ve been near a pond or something because there were ferocious mosquitoes which was the only drawback of the summer. We spent our days selling books, doing street theater and other forms of ministry. Often I would run into folks from Spain with whom I was able to use my rusty Spanish to share the Gospel.

It was during this time that I discovered that most wonderful of breakfast cuisines: Nutella. Now, the team didn’t have enough money for actual Nutella, so we used a generic chocolate, which was just fine. Also, in Ghent, there were fritter trucks where we purchased french fries with our extra money. These trucks were all over the place. It was a wonderful month.

The second month changed for me and my teammates, Susan and Peter. Leo wanted to put together a training team consisting of music directors: Susan and Peter, and a drama team leader: moi. Since I was on a drama team back home, I was chosen to teach the other Belgian teams all of the street theater skits. We were moved to the year-long team’s house, which had hot showers, beds, and no mosquitoes. Yay!

Leo spoiled us; he took us out and showed us this wonderful, beautiful, old city. We went to the annual Gentse Feesten. While I worked hard teaching the skits, I grew in confidence. The Lord was changing me. At the end of the summer, there was a final conference in Leuven. I remembered a skit we did in our drama team in San Francisco, and I pitched the idea to Leo. He gave me the go ahead to teach a team of kids, and I directed the Jews For Jesus’ “This is the House that Jacob Built” skit for the entire conference. The team did great. I couldn’t believe I was a part of this work. I went home to continue to help in the drama team, to continue in my faith and to continue to believe God for great things.

In June 8, 2013, I went to the local library’s book sale. There I found a copy of Amy Grant’s tape “Age to Age” the very tape I listened to 30 years earlier with an old Walkman while laying on a canvas cot somewhere in Leuven, Belgium. I thank God for this wonderful memory, the wonderful lessons of faith I learned and the wonderful experience of being a part of God’s work in this world. The sticker on my Belgium journal my friend gave me shouts Hoop Voor De Jaren 80 Jezus Christus (Hope for the Eighties – Jesus Christ) – hope, for always – Jesus Christ. That will never change.

Loben den Herrn!

10 Things I Hope My Children Learn: No. 7 – To Err is Human…Own Your Crap

Alexander Pope made the above thought famous in his unforgettable couplet, To err is human, to forgive, divine. According to that beacon of reliability – the Internet – the sentiment to err is human is an English translation of a Latin proverb: Errare humanum est – “It is human to err” I hope my children learn not only to be responsible for their junk, but to accept and even embrace their humanity. In other words, when they screw up, I hope they own it. I hope they take responsibility for the consequences of their shortcomings and mistakes, and from them learn empathy and compassion.

I hope they learn to sincerely apologize for actions or words that have hurt people. BUT, I want my children also to learn to dole out their apologies wisely. For a long time, I apologized for everything. I was sorry if dinner was cold when someone was late. I was sorry if someone on the bus stepped on my toe, can you believe that? I was sorry for people being unhappy as if it were my responsibility to make them so. I was sorry for all the crap in the world. Whether this was fall-out from my upbringing or my intense need to make everything alright, I don’t know.

However, not too long ago, I learned that I was carrying a lot of guilt and shame from other people’s crap. At the same time, I learned I needn’t apologize for everything. I learned to discern where an apology was absolutely necessary. I still apologize, but only for my own crap.

Also, I hope my children watch out for people who, in their wily machinatous (I made up that word!) ways, try to push their crap onto their shoulders. There are a lot of people who don’t own their crap and need to dispose of it. I hope my kids refuse to be someone else’s scapegoat. All of us have enough to keep us pretty humble.

Owning our crap is nothing less than owning our humanity. I know, in the past, when I’ve made mistakes, I would wallow in a puddle of self-condemnation. I have learned that my mistakes are no different than many other people’s mistakes. I make mistakes because I am human, just like the other 7 billion people on this planet. It should not separate me from others, but in fact, make me closer to people. I hope my children learn when they embrace their humanity – faults and all – they learn they are no worse or better than anyone else.

Next week: No. 6 To Forgive, Divine…Understanding Forgiveness

10 Things I Hope My Children Learn – No. 8 Try a Little Tenderness

Tenderness. Kindness. Gentleness. Rare commodities in such a brutal world. These are delicate flowers that are trampled too easily by the world’s rough elements. I hope my children learn and treasure tenderness, gentleness and kindness. I hope they realize these qualities are ever present and like Shakespeare’s quality of mercy – The quality of mercy is not strained. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: It blesseth him that gives and him that takes – they are always appreciated by the receiver, and they bless the possessor.

I remember an incident when I had taken one of the little ones to 7-11 for a snack. I was really irritated with her. I don’t remember what she did, but I remember being short with her. I told her to hurry up and get what she wanted, and let’s get out of here. She sensed my displeasure, and quickly ran to get what she wanted. I could tell she was hurt by my shortness. Tough…huh? I was in my doormat martyr mood, and I was giving her the silent treatment. As I waited for her, John Mayer’s song, Daughters, came on the radio. As I listened to the song and watched my little girl run around getting her snacks, my heart softened. I am sure I had to suppress a tear or two. She’s just a little girl who’s been through a lot of crap. I could try a little harder to be a little nicer; even when I had to be firm or had to say no to something, I could do it with some tenderness.

One of the reasons I enjoyed having pets – we had a lot of pets – is that my kids learned to be around creatures that were weaker than them. Just like standing next the ocean teaches you humility, having pets teaches you not only responsibility, but also gentleness and tenderness. You have to be careful and gentle around a baby chick. We live in a world that is reckless, heartless and insensitive to people. I tried to create a little world where they could learn tenderness by holding a newborn puppy or by caring for a terminally-ill dog.

I know they will probably hurt more than others because of this sensitivity, but they will also empathize with other folks who are in pain. I hope that their hearts will remain sensitive and compassionate not only toward the people they meet along their journey, but all of God’s creatures.

10 Things I Hope My Children Learn – No. 9 The Riches of Poverty

I have been pretty poor most of my adult life. While difficult, poverty, ironically, did yield some precious fruit. I hope my children discover, if they should find themselves in financial straits, the abiding riches of poverty. Victor Hugo wrote, and I quote a lengthy portion of his brilliant prose from Les Miserables:

“Poverty in youth, when it succeeds, is so far magnificent that it turns the whole will towards effort, and the whole soul towards aspiration. Poverty strips the material life entirely bare, and makes it hideous; then arise inexpressible yearnings towards the ideal life. The rich young man has a hundred brilliant and coarse amusements…busying the lower portions of the soul at the expense of its higher and delicate portions. The poor young man must work for his bread; he eats; when he has eaten, he has nothing more but reverie. He goes free to play which God gives; he beholds the sky, space, the stars, the flowers, the children, the humanity in which he suffers, the creation in which he shines. He looks at humanity so much that he sees his soul, he looks at creation so much that he sees God. He dreams, he feels that he is great; he dreams again, and he feels that he is tender. From the egotism of the suffering man, he passes to the compassion of the contemplating man. A wonderful feeling springs up within him, forgetfulness of self, and pity for all. In thinking of the numberless enjoyments which nature offers, gives and gives lavishly to open souls, and refuses to closed souls, he, a millionaire of intelligence, comes to grieve for the millionaires of money. All hatred goes out of his heart in proportion as all light enters his mind. And then is he unhappy? No. The misery of the young man is never miserable…He is firm, serene, gentle, peaceful, attentive, serious, content with little, benevolent; and he blesses God for having given him these two estates which many of the rich are without; labour which makes him free, and thought which makes him noble.”

There is nothing to add to Mr. Hugo’s quote. I hope my children, when they experience their lean years, will harvest these riches of poverty.

10 Things I Hope My Children Learn: #10 – Love to Learn

There are many things I hope my children learn. I have found that the most important things I have learned in my life are the ones I have learned later. By compiling this list, I hope to give them a heads up in what I think is very important and meaningful.

My first thing, No. 10 on the list, I hope my children learn is to love learning. That may negate my entire list because if they love learning, they will inevitably learn not only the 10 things I want them to learn, but much more.

Learning can be acquired in many ways. Of course, the main place of learning is school. I hope that my children take advantage of all the education they can get. Even the classes they hate, the ones that they think are useless can add to their character. They may not like Algebra or Geography (I don’t know why) but that they are somewhat knowledgeable about these subjects will contribute to the richness of their character and in a small way enrich their lives.

There is another way in which learning can be achieved. I remember watching my kids play, and felt that what is essential to education, to learning, was being developed in their play. When they played, they were inventive, creative, curious and enthusiastic, all qualities they need to acquire a life long love of learning. They never tired of fort-building, clothes-making, hole-digging and tree-climbing. All these activities ignited their thirsty imaginations which when an imagination is activated, there is no limit to what one can learn.

Finally, learning can take place in painful circumstances. I hope my children have learned through the painful relationships that exist in their lives. Unfortunately, people will let them down. I will let them down. T.H. White wrote in The Once and Future King:

“The best thing for being sad,” replied Merlin, beginning to puff and blow, “is to learn something. That’s the only thing that never fails….Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the only thing for you. Look what a lot of things there are to learn.”

I hope in every circumstance they find themselves in, whether in their educational pursuits, their play and even in their pain, they will not only continue to learn, but grow and mature and understand “why the world wags and what wags it.”

Note to Self: Suck it Up!

In Last Holiday with Queen Latifah and Timothy Hutton, there is a scene that though cloaked in asininity contains a good bit of advice. After finding out she has three weeks to live, Georgia Byrd (Latifah) meets with her manager to discuss her situation. He is obnoxious and inaccessible. He is consumed with the advice of the founder of their company, Matthew Kragen (Hutton) and is listening to one of Kragen’s motivational tapes when Georgia comes to his office. Georgia is frustrated with the manager and before she destroys the CD, Kragen gives the listener this piece of advice: Grab that scared little loser inside you and beat the living crap out of them. Of course, that comment is offensive; but, to be honest, as a quintessential doormat, I want to grab that weak, fearful, timid part of me and beat it up or at least tell her to suck it up.

Living with teens while progressing through middle age has forced this coward to look inward for some fortitude and backbone. I may have to write a whole survival guide on getting through the teen years. I have my eighth going through this turbulent time, and I don’t know if I can withstand the pressure. I understand they are individuating, and getting comfortable in their own skin, and finding their place in their worlds; but for crying out loud, let’s move this along. When I am confronted with a turbulent teen, I usually buckle. I was born to run from trouble, and now when they are going through this troublesome time of life, I want to flee. But, as all parents know, there are times when you have to stand your ground and suck it up. I am getting stronger and refining my ability to communicate with this species of mankind and not be so intimidated by them.

Middle age has left me with more panic attacks than I’d like to admit. I was always kinda nervous, but once the hormones became irregular, the panic attacks started in earnest. The worst ones were at the dentist. Many years ago, I had some teeth pulled. Now I used to like going to the dentist. No problem. But this day, for some reason, (probably too much stress in my crazy life), I began to sweat, shake and look for a way out. To add to this situation, the dentist had the TV on, and a report — no lie, I swear — came on about a patient dying in the dentist’s chair. Great … well, by that time it was too late.

Every time I go to the dentist now, I relive that visit. My last visit, I had a bad tooth that had to come out. My current dentist knows I get nervous, he asked if I wanted it pulled. He left me some room to bolt. I waited. I could leave and just live with the pain a little longer. Or I could summon some courage from some remote part of my soul, and suck it up. I told him go ahead and pull it. It hurt, well it’s the shots that hurt, but I survived.

Phillips Brooks was an Episcopalian minister from the 19^th Century. He is best known for being the lyricist for the Christmas carol, O Little Town of Bethlehem. I stumbled upon one of his quotes that continues to encourage and strengthen me:

Do not pray for easy lives; pray to be stronger men. Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers; pray for powers equal to your tasks. Then the doing of your work shall be no miracle, but you yourself shall be a miracle.

Life can be really tough. Things happen, choices have unforeseen consequences or the rose-colored tint just fades from your dreams. In this life one must be strong. I grew up thinking life was going to be a rose garden. I expected things to be easy, it took me a long time to understand that life is hard, even for us in this country where most of our needs are met. I use to pray for an easy life, now I just pray to be stronger, to suck it up and do what I have to do, whether it be going toe-to-toe in the trenches with a teen or determining to deal with my dental issues decidedly.

Second Chance

In 1963, Henri Nouwen became captivated with Rembrandt’s Return of the Prodigal Son. He even went to St. Petersburg to spend time with the masterpiece and subsequently wrote his own work of art, The Return of the Prodigal Son. He analyzed every detail of the painting and with the text of the biblical story, tells the tale of reconciliation not only for the obvious prodigal, but the need for it even within the Father’s household.

This past week, I had my own little captivation with El DeBarge’s song Second Chance. Of course, it is not a Rembrandt painting, but it did remind me of the heart of a prodigal. I know many prodigals, and am one too in many ways. DeBarge’s prodigality is pretty well-known, but in this song, this song he wrote after a couple years in jail, he turns his face toward home, toward the Father’s house. While his sins are obvious and well-documented like those of the returning son, some of us are in our own “distant country” like the older brother. We dwell in our own lands of prejudice, fear, shame and hate. We may appear to be in the Father’s house, but we are “distant” from the Father’s heart, which is at the center of His house. The prodigal son’s brother could not understand – in fact resented – all the excitement and joy over the return of the son because his heart was in “a distant country” – where there was no room for love or joy. He was far from the Father’s love. I am afraid many Christians are like that.

I am distant when I stay in my fear-filled ways. I have many fears, I’m afraid to say. Recently, I had to make a big decision, a decision I was afraid to make. But I made it and stepped out and faced that particular fear. And, when El DeBarge sings these lyrics in his feathery angelic falsetto “so when the mirror speaks, it tells me that you’ve faced your inner fears and you’re loving the song,” I know I have moved closer to the Father’s heart – away from the fear that alienates love and joy, and closer to that “perfect love that casts out all fear.”

Easter Sunday, the day Christians all over the world remember that Jesus Christ conquered death in his resurrection, is mankind’s greatest second chance. He made redemption, reconciliation and rebirth possible for those far off and for those who are near. We have a second chance to be courageous or clean and sober or kind and compassionate, even Christ-like, but also a second chance at a new life. Happy Easter, folks!

Author: Donna Fentanes

My Worst Enemy