Living on a prayer to the faithfully departed

Spring 2011 brought with it a myriad of life events. Instead of crafting an almost-two-year-old perspective on the happenings of the last few months, I breathe a big breath and give you my own voice. For you readers looking for narration consistency: Ken's innocence or for Sam's lack of capital letters, breathe easy. One or both boys will soon return to share his story. For now, I can't help but feed the need to blurt my own perspective across the blogosphere.
Lately, I find myself existing within a contradiction of hope and heartache. This is not necessarily bad, for some of the most interesting lessons in life co-exist in contradiction to each other: the stillness of summer within a thunderstorm; an entry-level job posting seeking two years experience; managing a career while starting a family; three persons in one God – just to name a few. And when I take a moment to consider the array of feelings that make up our human experience, the events of this spring find me skipping along to vastly different emotions.
I stood next to my husband at Easter as he proclaimed his full admission into the Catholic faith. I daresay that he’s proud of himself, and I’m honored every day to be the wife of someone so full of gentleness, compassion, and humble courage.
I sat across from my sister and listened as she talked about her changing marriage and her three beautiful daughters. I admire her strength, and I hope to someday emulate her talent as a teacher and mother.
I watched a niece and nephew cross her and his respective stage to receive diplomas: both simultaneously greeting an ending and a beginning of an educational milestone. Grandmas and grandpas scooped up my children in big bear hugs: a mosaic of youth and innocence wrapped in the arms of wisdom and experience.

I stood next to my baby sister as she married my newest brother-in-law: each of them managing the heartache of a tight job market, yet so happy and hopeful for their future together.
I sat next to my brothers at the unexpected funeral of my cousin, Erin. I witnessed a mother moan at the side of her daughter’s closed casket. A grown man, her father, sobbed into my arms and told me to hold on to my children with all that I have. I watched helplessly as tears dripped down my grandmother’s face, across the bridge of her nose: heartbroken at the grief of her daughter and the loss of her granddaughter.
This dwelling within the coexistence of hope and heartache is cause for wonder: How does one strike the balance between the two? As life goes on, I’m beginning to believe that this contradiction of hope and heartache may not ever be without one another. That is, in everything worth experiencing in life – school, family, career path, romance, friendship, parenting – one will always encounter degrees of hope and heartache: of have and have-not, of joy and sorrow, of restlessness and peace. We are to do it anyway. We are to look for hope within our heartache and to acknowledge heartache within our hope.
We pulled into the church parking lot of Erin’s funeral Mass; the church was attached to the grade school that she attended. I looked up as the church bells rang, and every single student lined the parking lot – greeting, praying, smiling, and crying. In this time of heartache, hope sprung from the teachers and students standing in solidarity around us.
Yesterday, my boys met me at the door as I returned from work. Ken greeted me with a toothy grin and a “Hi, Mama.” In that moment, my heart melted with hope in the happy-go-lucky boy that he is. Interestingly enough, my heart simultaneously ached with the knowledge that one day I’ll have to let him go, in order for him to be the man that he is becoming. (Not to worry. We quickly moved on to more tangible events of the evening: like sloppy joes and story time.)
As spring turns into summer, may this reflection find you in good spirits and embracing your own life’s contradictions with a peaceful heart. Love, Molly

Somewhere over the rainbow of fruit flavors

three months? three months? has it really been that long since we've heard from conrad the elder? hm. well, he's been busy. ever since he learned to walk, he's been perfecting the art of mobility: walking backward, climbing furniture, scooting up and down the steps. i expect this won't be the last time i'll have to step it up due to his lackadaisical tendencies.

hi. i'm sam. affectionately known around these parts as conrad the younger, i'm learning to forge my way around this fruitsnack-eatin', powdered-milk-drinkin' world. the last few months have been nothing short of fascinating. december into january was dark. and cold. i'm not gonna lie: we cowered from the living nativity scene opportunity (see previous blog entry) due to the frigidness. i heard it was quite the event, though. maybe next year. february brought with it record snowfalls:

a rockin' 12 inches on the weekend of my baptism. although members of our out-of-town extended family couldn't make the baptism due to the weather, i'm so glad to have seen my kansas rels and to have sported new-found holiness in my rippin' tight white onesie. (Yes, the baptismal outfit was tucked safely in grandma corrigan's suitcase ... which never made it out of omaha due to the flaky white stuff.)

speaking of grandma corrigan, ken and i hung our hats at her place during the first week of march, while mom and dad gallivanted around kua'i, hawaii. yeah - you think mom and dad got the better end of that deal, but i'm here to tell you that grandma corrigan's house is the bomb. i met all 13 of my other cousins – ages 5 and under. So while mom and dad explored hawaiian pineapples, hiking trails and rainbows (see dad’s facebook page for cool pics), we ate fruit snacks, drank juice and pretty much romped in kid haven. grandma: we hope to see you again soon!

spring’s just around the corner. i’m so pumped. dad has grand plans to plant trees, finish tiling our basement bathroom, build a fence and extend the driveway. we'll see what the budget master (that's mom) has to say about all of that. aunt val and uncle paul are here this weekend – it’s almost like we’re celebrating spring early; they’re so fun.

best get back to the party. until next time, good thoughts to japan and lybia, and compassion and peace to all of your families.

keepin' it real,

sam

Standing tall and walking proud of myself

I can walk! That's right, my friends: What started Thanksgiving weekend as a serious toddle has become a slow but steady heel-toe adventure. I tip my cap and welcome myself to transportation of the biped variety. With a pair of socks and a classy set of Velcro shoes, I walk from the kitchen to my bedroom, and from the living room to the it-always-seems-to-be-closed-when-I'm-around-bathroom door. I can walk. And, I'm just so darned proud of myself.

Sam's getting big. I mean it. At six weeks, the kid's chubbin' out of clothes that I just barely fit into at his age. How does he do it? I'm thinking I'd better get my eye-pokes and skin-pinches in now, because I'll quickly lose the battle once my kid-brother establishes a sense of balance. Ah well. It sure is fun to have another little one around. I promise to post pictures of the boy soon.

A bit of local news: Both Sam and I are sporting Packer gear today, in honor of theVikings-Giants cancellation and the caving of the infamous Metro dome roof. What a weekend! Three cheers for 15+ inches of snow, functioning snow blowers, and the opportunity to watch the Packers instead of the Vikings. Go Pack, go!

The holiday season fast approaches. They're hosting a living Nativity scene at our church this year. I think the event is set for next weekend, and so far, no one has volunteered a Baby Jesus. I wonder if Sam would have the hutspa to lay in an outside manger for an hour, surrounded by ... well, perhaps I can volunteer to be a shepherd .. or a sheep ... while he basks in the glory of infant holiness. We'll see.

We're off to see G&G Conrad before they high-tail it to their winter hide-away, and then we're rollin' to Omaha rels for Christmas. I'm excited! I watched Mom start a draft of our Christmas letter last night. She says she's still thinking about how best to document the many thoughts, lessons and happenings of the year. Keep your Christmas cards coming, my friends! Mom promises to send you one in return.

Happy December! (And yes, I'll let you know what comes of the living Nativity scene ...)

Ken

Somebody call the doctor Frankenstein

Well, they did it. Mom and Dad went and had a baby, and now I can safely say that I have the coolest kid-brother in the world. Tipping the scales at nine pounds three ounces, Samuel Corrigan Conrad was born on Halloween night. How's that for spooky, scary and totally awesome all at the same time? I'm planning his birthday parties already.

Truth: Albeit cool to have Sam for a brother, I'm not quite sure what to make of this mini-me that looks and cries but doesn't talk. He throws up at least once every time he eats, never can decide if he really wants his nook, and his scream can be heard at least three houses down. I'll have to remember to ask Mom if I was ever that loud.

Speaking of Mom, she's home from work full time now. How sweet it is! While I'm proud to say that nothing about my behavior has really changed due to our family's new arrival, it's sure swell to be able to crawl onto Mom's lap in the middle of the day and listen to her read a few of my cardboard books.

And Dad ... well, Dad hasn't missed a beat. Thrilled at the good fortune of two healthy boys, and tickled about the mere fact that his favorite drinking buddy is back on the scene (yes, that's Mom), Dad's loving life. He's one of the most laid-back, take-it-as-it-comes parenting naturals I know (or, have heard about anyway). His demeanor, and his humor, his ability to change the lyrics of every nursery rhyme, and his big bear hugs are what makes this household go, and for that Mom, Sam and I give ceaseless thanks.

Until next time,

Ken

First trip to the barber shop quartet

I'd hoped my October post to you, my reader, would include pictures and stories and your basic oohs and ahhs over a new sibling. Alas, Mom's still round and waddling. We're less than a week from the proverbial due date; I promise to keep you all in-the-know.

The past few weeks have seen sunny days, brilliant fall colors, caramel apples, Dad's (and Mary Kate's!), birthday, my Grandma Corrigan and my Grandma and Grandpa Conrad. Grandma Corrigan is a whiz with the scissors. In seven minutes flat, she snipped a few snips in such a way that my hair no longer flops into my eyes. She even cleared the runway over my ears and trimmed the almost-mullet look I'd apparently been portraying in the back. I'm looking dapper if I do say so myself. Thanks for the new do, G-ma.C.!

G and G Conrad joined us for the 2010 Viking/Packer debut; Dad completed his happy dance before bedtime. Such fun times in this Corrigan-Conrad abode, I tell you. We're counting down the days for Baby Corrigan Conrad's arrival. As it stands, I may have to hold down the fort myself on Halloween night, and I haven't yet decided on a costume. Options include (but are not limited to): a ghost, a clown, a pumpkin, a black cat, or the E-trade baby.

What's your vote?

Later,

Ken

Paint the town red velvet cake

My September birthday landed on a Thursday this year. Lame. Had I my druthers, I'd have pushed for the weekend so that all three of us could have hung out for the day. Ah well. As it stood, I found myself greeting the anniversary of my birth with red-rimmed eyes and an old-man cough. Wicked head cold, I tell you. (Apologies once again, Mary Kate, Nora and Greta for having to cancel my birthday dinner party due to illness.)

The good news is that Dad came through like the champ that he is with made-from-scratch red velvet cupcakes layered with homemade cream cheese frosting.

Um. Simply. Delicious. Thanks to Dad for the treats, Mom for the birthday hugs, and all of my loyal readers for the birthday cards and practical gifts. Mom and Dad are particularly pleased with the simplicity of this birthday celebration. Here's hoping my second year proves just as adventurous as my first.

In other news, we're gearing up for a new addition to the family. Be it a boy or a girl, I'm simply hoping I don't lose my priority seating in the back seat of the car. (Where has the whole front-facing-car seat option been all my life? The traveling world is a whole new place when you can keep tabs on where you're going - rather than where you've been.) Mom has exactly four weeks and three days to go, and she seems more than ready for day last of this gestational journey. And, come to think of it, so does Dad. A patient, patient man, he is.

It's October tomorrow. As we march to the beat of multi-colored trees, high school soccer games, shorter days and longer nights, may this message find you whistling to the tune of the autumn air, and painting your own town red with simple pleasures throughout your days.

Until next time,

Ken

Rest in peace be with you

Approximately ten days ago, Mom and Dad and I piled in the family Buick and high-tailed it to Cleveland, Ohio to remember, celebrate and commend my Great-Grandpa Corrigan. After four years of suffering from Alzheimer's disease, he passed away at age 84: Just four days shy of his 61st wedding anniversary. I agree with Mom: I'm glad he's no longer suffering, but it sure is tough to say goodbye.

Great-Grandpa Corrigan sounds like a solid character. Father of 10 children, WWII Vet, stellar husband and community leader, he balanced hard work with humor and appreciated life for its array of human experiences. Could I be like him someday? I watched as four (count 'em, four) scheduled wake times and one funeral overflowed with friends, family, credit union co-workers and customers, neighbors old and new, and faces from as far back as grade school joined us to pay their respects to the man I get to call my Great-Grandpa Corrigan. That's so cool.

And my Great-Grandma - let me tell you - she handled the whole affair with a grace and style that I can only hope to emulate if I'm ever in the same position. Her faith, acceptance and resiliency is an inspiration. Recognized by my Great-Grandpa (even in his final days) as "the love of his life," I pray that my Great-Grandma continues to dwell within the peace that she and my Great-Grandpa shared together.

As a result of the shared family goodbyes, tears, and happy memories, I'm inspired to re-evaluate the quality of my every-day-ness. Our road trip to Ohio allowed me to discover two heroes: of whom I'm sure Mom will tell me about often. As I grow into my own ability to imagine, identify, remember, and emulate, I hope that my spirit and character becomes, in part, a reflection of my Great-Grandma and Great-Grandpa Corrigan.

Until next time,

Ken