Life Cycles

Standing in community: Balm for heartache

I have been carrying around an enormous amount of ache in the last 24 hours, and going unnamed or processed it feels harmful to my own spirit, or certainly not helpful for my psyche and my capacity to parent or partner well. I turn here to identify this sadness and describe what has (or is) transpiring, with the hope that in doing so, some of this will be transformed and or eased.

A couple of weeks ago, at the end of a discernment class that I help co-facilitate at a catholic, urban spirituality center, two participants requested some special prayers for a newly born child who was on life support. While I had no connection to this babe, my friends did, and entering into the sacred space of quiet and love-filled silence required nothing, save for my sincere intention. Yesterday, at lunch, with two mom friends in relationship with this child's parents, and one of the catholic nuns we all work with, we learned that the child passed away. She had been taken off life support on Wednesday, began breathing on her own, and then abruptly died on Thursday.

In the same lunch/ work space, with  this news arriving via text message and shattering the calm and ease of our cohort, came tears and a request for further prayers. Sr. Mary* lead us quietly in a beautiful reflection on this child's passing, imagining her ease into Heaven, her arrival into the arms of ancestors and angels, and asking the God we all believe in to hold the family closely, guiding them in their grief and gratitude for this little girl's brief life.

I sat at our corner table, feeling tucked and safe with my friends, but wildly open and vulnerable in my heart and whole body. Days away from celebrating my own daughter's second birthday, and thinking of the small being growing inside my own belly, (for those who may not know I am 10 weeks pregnant) I thought I might crack in half with sorrow for this kind of loss of life.

Within moments of this news, Sr. Mary shared a tale from her own northside community that involved another kind of ache and loss simultaneously being experienced across town. She told us of a mother who she has known for years who was, that afternoon, giving her newborn daughter up for adoption. The why of it was not fully disclosed, but details of this mother's other, OLDER children --  six and 8 years,  begging for their mom to bring the baby home - were again enough to send me over the edge.

Yes, the mom is an addict.
No, this wasn't the first child she'd given up.
Yes, she was in darkness and despair.
No, the older kids were not doing well -- stepping into a space to caretake for their mother.

I immediately thought of a lesbian couple I know who have adopted three children -- all with special needs, two from the same mom, both of them born addicted to narcotics. I saw their sweet faces and robust smiles and snapshots of arms wrapped around their tiny frames -- all so loved.

I was angry and grateful and overwhelmed all in one breath.

"Man, is God busy today" were the words that came quietly out of my mouth toward Sister Mary. She nodded and smiled, "yes."

My friends processed a bit of their own immediate grief over the death of the daughter that they knew personally, and tears flowed as they considered the way their own children's knowledge of this passing would bring them so much closer to their own mortality and questions of life, death, vulnerability, God, uncertainty, and the fragility of life.

I listened to these moms reflect on ways that they would parent through this time, addressing their 4, 5 and 7 year olds' fears, and considering the larger community that they have in common and will journey with as adult friends.

We moved through our lunch and planning meeting in stops and starts, and I personally was grateful for the distraction of our work tasks at hand.

After my colleagues left, I turned to email and other to-dos, and almost immediately got another note that was a blow to my heart and mind. My long time friend, colleague and teaching mentor sent an email to share that her sister had died suddenly the day before, completely unexpectedly - and so no, she wouldn't be able to make our monthly date for dinner.

WHAT?

***
Today, at ECFE (Early Childhood Family Education), we gathered in a circle with Teacher Todd for songs and stories and up on the whiteboard behind him was a penned obituary for the guinea pig that had died a few days ago. (Even this classroom pet was not safe from the cycle of life playing out!) 

The levity in my morning, and balm for all this ache and woe, came in fact from one small child named Lily, who confided in me near the guinea pig's cage while feeding the other remaining pet a carrot: "She went to guinea pig heaven, you know?" I nodded, in awe at this child's capacity to state so clearly what had happened and why the cage was a bit emptier. After a brief pause, she looked at me, shook her head, and uttered one more word, "Shoot."

Next to this large classroom cage, with one lonely guinea pig being plied with straw and carrots --like any good family-survivor-in-mourning household would be --I acknowledged my own broken, grieving heart and gave thanks for this space.

"Shoot" is a very appropriate response for it all.

***
Thanks for being on the receiving end of this reflection. Please keep all families who know loss and death at this time in your thoughts, as images of love, largeness, community,  life-cycles, especially birth, buoy us, and remind us of the circles that envelop and permeate our existence, and perpetuate and transform our hearts and minds.

LOVE,
Melissa

*not her real name.

Guacamole and God: A bit on Parenting my Toddler

by Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde

Being a mother is the hardest role I have ever taken on (save, being a wife!) I think most days I could go back to teaching at North High and find it a "cake walk" compared to mommyhood. My students in Minneapolis have nothing on Marguerite Kiemde in terms of inspiring intense emotion and the deepest sense of inadequacy within me. (Good thing I'm wildly in love with my daughter!)

Kiddo has been sick. Let's just acknowledge this fact. We are going on day six of Ms. K. suffering from a hacking cough, green-yellow-phlegm in her nose, and a whacked out eating and sleeping routine. I am trying to ride this wave of unwellness, by nurturing, supporting, parenting her in the best manner I know. (Stroller-rides in the sunshine, warm chicken broth, lots of songs and snuggling during the day and night.) Yet during several moments in this past week, I have admitted defeat. Her suffering I cannot alleviate, and this fact, coupled with my own plate full of desires/ dreams/ tasks to complete, makes me quake within my own sadness, anger, frustration and wall-hitting. Her suffering parallels and informs my own. And I wonder where to turn in such moments.

It just sucks being inadequate -- or feeling inadequate.

Yesterday, it was a packed up bowl of guacamole that my precious kiddo threw at me, hitting the side of my car, that started my descent into parenting-self-doubt hell. Tantrum? Yes, it was a tantrum. She was mad she had to get in the car. I have been "feeling" these deep emotional expressions of defiance (or passion?) since baby girl was six months old and arching her back and letting me know she was pissed, or wanted to be in charge.

I feel for her. I get on every level the desire to throw guacamole when you are mad. What I'm faced with now, is how to compassionately and boldly parent in the face of what I understand.

I can add to the guacamole break down. Any moments of "no" or "redirection" (shoot, even a cheerful hello when she's engrossed in something else) this toddler takes personally, falling into a puddle of tears. She closes her eyes, opens her mouth, the snot pours out of her nose, and she wails. Tears stream down her face. I can count all her teeth during these moments. I imagine her experiencing utter rejection in these minutes; her expectations of the world are not being met with a desired response. Mom's and other's expectations or desires are threatening to her very core, and this brings on the tears.

Today, both my neighbor and a church friend were met by Maggie's hysterical outbreaks when they warmly greeted her. Did kiddo not hear the friendly tone in their voices? Did she mis-interpret their words? Were their "Hey Maggies!" translated into requests for something that she wasn't able to deliver on? I am plagued on this count. I wonder, "Why the broken heart, kiddo?"

With closed eyes, then, and outstretched arms, my daughter begins walking towards me in such moments of despair. She's like a blind zombie baby moving desperately in my direction. I try to embrace her need, without overdoing the coddle. I try not to laugh. And I ask myself: "Do I really need to 'save' her from these moments?" Ack! This is the parenting rub I'm currently up against!

My spiritual self sees these moments of angst and emotion akin to my own melt-down moments, sans the adult filter. My child acts out physically in a manner that I think perfectly expresses what I am doing inside on a faith level with God. Wailing. Eyes closed. Arms outstretched. Blind. Trying to find comfort or security or a saving grace.

So in my inadequacy as a parent, I take a deep breathe and try to tune in. I may comfort, reassure kiddo, but really its not my comfort to give. I believe with all my heart that within Marguerite, within all of us, is the Divine indwelling, that can provide a peace not found anywhere else. Question is: how do I teach her to tune into this kind of love?

My friend Lisa, witness to one of these outbreaks today, who works with kids all day long, said, "Ah, give her some toys. She will cry. She will learn to self-soothe."

I agree. And I pray. I hope for the "God-soothing" wisdom and instinct to develop and be re-inforced as she grows. May the moments of heart-ache that Marguerite experiences teach her about the world, about her own desire, and may she find a balm within her, a song that carries her into the next moment of love.


Photos by Louisa Marion Photography

Fried Green Tomato Church

by Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde

After an incredibly trying church service (in which the newly walking Marguerite Kiemde strutted her developmental stuff, doing laps to the front of the church to the choir, out the side door to the street, around the corner to the front steps, toddling up and back inside, and then repeating the entire procedure with me closely behind, celebrating her steps, trying to stay calm, and avoid any judgmental? stares.) If you can imagine: I came home a bit beleaguered.

(How to parent in church? What does an enriching mass experience look like for a young family without a cry room or child-care center? What fine line exists between cultivating a child's physical/ emotional/ developmental stages appropriately, alongside her spiritual sensibilities? If I am not "fed" spiritually, as my child's mom, how do I ever nurture my babe?... That's another blog in and of itself!)

I turn to how Mags and I made "church" at home, after our early departure from Ascension (post-homily/ pre-Eucharist.) In a phrase we found God in: Fried. Green. Tomatoes.
YES!

This past week on facebook there was a whole strand about this delicious summer fare that included several exchanges from my Aunts Marian and Peg and their Osmond/Colorado friend Audrey Wanke Dummer. I asked for recipe ideas, and I got them. And today, after the above described nearly God-less mass, I came home and adapted these cooking ideas, using fresh green tomatoes from my own garden, and tried to channel as much love and family and Jesus as I could into the experience.

I share these recipes with you now, smiling, with a sleeping baby; both she and I with full, happy bellies.

Fried Green Tomatoes
4-6 hard, green tomatoes
Buttermilk
Flour
Panko crumbs
Cayenne Pepper
Garlic Salt
Bacon grease

I began by frying a half a pound of applewood smoked bacon in a skillet. Once browned and crisped, I removed the bacon, placing it on a large paper-towel lined platter, that I would use for the fried tomatoes. I reserved the hot bacon drippings for frying my green tomatoes.

I cut the tomatoes pretty thin, between 1/8 and a 1/4 inches, salting them, and then soaking them in buttermilk, covering them in the cayenne pepper/ garlic salt flour mixture, and adding panko crumbs for extra crunch, before putting each in the hot bacon fat. I was working this assembly line as quickly as possible with messy fingers, and thanking God for a content Marguerite in her high chair (eating a banana and playing with a clean feta cheese container.)

I fried these till they were golden brown, and appreciated the way bits of bacon adhered to the panko crust. Delish!!

Sweet Onion Relish Sauce
Half of a sweet onion, chopped and cubed
1/2 cup mayonnaise
3 Tablespoons rice wine vinegar
Salt

Note: I totally ripped this recipe off from Paula Deen, when I was doing research for the best item to accompany said green tomatoes. (Buttermilk dressing? Spicy mustard? In a sandwich? I didn't know how exactly I was going to EAT the tomatoes once fried.) This sauce rocked!

Paula adds sugar to hers; I didn't. I prepared this onion mixture and served it next to the tomatoes. Maggie then climbed up on my lap and we gobbled up the dish. (Well, mostly, I gobbled up, and she alternated showing me her shoeless and shoed foot.)

***

"How is this church?" you might persist in wondering. To this query, I respond, channeling my best St. Francis de Sales thinking: that all small actions, done with love, are prayerful ones. I add that when we couple prayerful activity --our intentions directed toward God-- with the company of family, friends, angels, saints, are we not in deed experiencing a kind of church?

Today, I experienced service in a literal way, at Church of the Ascension in north Minneapolis, (in all of its parenting complexity) alongside a more figurative celebration: in my kitchen and at my dining table with my daughter, and the company of women and men who have grown and prepared fried green tomatoes in our family. It was a most nurturing kind of meal that buoys who I am as parent.

AMEN.

"Be still and BE:" Gentleness on the Front Lines of Parenting

"Be still and BE."

I'm spending time with the St. Francis de Sales these days. His words on gentleness, and examples of this way of being, are continually emerging in my life; combined with the line "Be still and BE" that I received in an email this morning, this all speaks loudly to my heart and mind.

A simple Salesian phrase from the Visitation Sisters' co-founder that feels connected to this line comes to mind:

"All is gentle to the gentle." --St Francis de Sales (LR VI 28)

I believe that when we allow stillness, simple breathing and an emptying of our hearts and minds to occur, that a gentleness may wash over us.

***

In the midst of my scrambling this morning, sad from an exchange with my husband that simply didn't go the way that I wanted, the effervescent Marguerite spilled over a glass of raspberry iced tea that I had left out. The contents landed on me, my white shirt, light green pants, and some of her "new" garage sale clothes that had recently been laundered: white and khaki items now turned pink-colored.

I swore, and then started crying. I don't like my child to experience me in such a state, but it is my humanity at work, and so what else is there, but to then be gentle with myself, her and respond as I am able. In the moment, I placed my 15 month old daughter in her high chair, and took all the soiled linens to the basement and sprayed them with stain remover.

When I returned, she was staring at me, and all I could see were the piles of dirty dishes in the sink, the unwashed countertops, an ajar back door: things that needed my attention. I was even more mad. And still: crying.

I could hear this Salesian priest speak to me: The more mercy we require, the more we receive.

I spoke to the knives in the kitchen drawer: I need a lot of mercy right now! Patience! Gentleness! Please?

And my child stood in her high chair, reaching her arms out to me.

That was two and a half hours ago. It's amazing what moving through moments, consciously, prayerfully, full of angst is all about.

"Be still and BE."
AMEN.

--
Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde,
Visitation Companion

Marguerite's Speech

Your baby's ability to vocalize is improving, and he may say his first word any time now. - BabyCenter

Ms. Kiemde is ten and a half months old and knocking our socks off!

In the past week, she has started to repeat the word "Daddy" -- incessantly. These consonants come easily to her, compared with the "M's" in say, her name, my name, and MOMMA!! It's all good, and highly entertaining. She has uttered audibly and distinctly the word "momma" on two occasions. Two, count them:

1. Whilst trying to teach Marguerite not to throw her food or utensils all on the floor when she's done, or bored, I instead invited her to "hand me nicely" the object in question. Last Sunday, during our first attempt at this behavior guidance, following Mag's 2nd tossing of her spoon, I picked up the object, placed it back on her high chair tray and said, "Can you give it to momma?" Jody Tigges was sitting next to us. Maggie took her spoon and with a big smile, put it sweetly in my hand and said, "Momma!" I about died. Ms. Tigges was a witness. I tried not to respond in an overly dramatic way, but said, "Thank you." and smiled. I believe Maggie and I were both grinning ear to ear.

It was our first request/ response "dialogue" or "conversation" - where it seemed she understood clearly my query and I got clearly - on two levels- her comprehension through spoken and physical gestures.

PARTY TIME!

2. Last night in the car, coming home from a visit to our new home, Maggie was practicing her daddy speech. As a way to let her know I heard her, and as a way to participate in the conversation, I was repeating back her syllables, this time, pronouncing "daddy" with various emphasis and alternatively, singing it. In turn, Marguerite played with her pronunciations, even becoming melodic in her expression, following my soprano song of "daaaadddy". Following a pause in the middle of the "daddy" litany, she then said clearly, "MOMMA." Our friend Ann Shallbetter was in the car and I think was nearly as excited as I was by this surprise in the conversation. It's so great to have a witness!

By the way, Marguerite has been repeating proudly this game of "can you give it to momma?" at almost every play interaction/ meal. She has been so proud of herself, beaming at the interaction, and then enthusiastic to repeat the gesture.

We are in love.

For those of you who haven't seen our little pumpkin lately, (or on Facebook) I hope you enjoy these recent snapshots posted. One is with her godmother, Marianna, (above right) and then a few are from last weekend's play date with Geert Bennaars-Mawanda. Smile!

Mealtime!

Who doesn't covet a sippy cup?

Toys!

Beth Borgmann as Vice President!

Another entry from the Borgmann Family Blog. On the heels of McCain's announcement of Alaskan Governor Sarah Palin as his Vice-Presidential running mate, questions were flying about her identity and the details around her as a working mom . My aunt Marian, a devoted Hillary supporter, responded "If she’s anything like you Beth, I have no problem with her potentially managing this country!"

The following entry was inspired by this kind of endorsement and my own contemplation:

"What if my mom ran as Vice President? Not as a Republican, but as a Democratic candidate? What would our country look like?"

I want to See Beth Borgmann and Barack Obama on a ticket! That would make my day! My century!

What do you do on education, mom?
What about our military?
Just think, if we employed a Beth Borgmann (backed by a fiery, but in the background Steve Borgmann) what would government look like?

There would be no abortion, because every single woman facing poverty or the inability to raise a child in the best way, would have a whole host of support, that Beth Borgmann would inspire through church and bridge clubs and Tom Osborn networks.

Adoptions would be a lot easier.

My mom would write tax laws so that the wealthiest people who give to charitable organizations supporting children and life-long mentorship, would be happy with their take home salary; they would be advocates for this kind of fiscal responsibility in giving. There would be enough for everyone, and this would be made quite visible through the most transparent reporting of resources and relationships.

What else would Beth Borgmann do? Have everyone get on an RV and travel to see and meet families in other parts of the country. She'd even invest in RV trips abroad, with big road trips planned in Africa (thanks, mom!) and Asia, and Afghanistan. That's Year One of her first term.

She'd make sure the smartest young people would be working with foreign exchange students (under Fabi's tutelage - our former German Foreign exchange student) to dream up new energy technology. She'd award them with research funds and a trip to the cabin or on the RV. hehe.

Beth Borgmann as VP would oversee the decrease in military spending, because so many fewer people will want to kill anyone with her in office. She makes people smile because she laughs all the time and sees their best qualities.

The people in Afghanistan, the mothers of boys being sent to madrassas to train for the
Taliban, would also love her. The Taliban of terror would dissolve once and for all. The moms and children would meet up in Beth's first RV trip through Pakistan and into Afghanistan. She would take Sylvie and Izzy, chaperoned by Noah, Jack and Trent. This team of grandkids would see first-hand how different life is in the most rural areas and marvel at how lucky they are. They would not want to "fix' anyone or simply give them money. Beth Borgmann's grandkids would just be grandkids, and this would inform her own strategy for diplomacy. The boys would play soccer with the other young boys. Jack would ask if they knew what football was. Sylvie would be cracking open lotion bottles with the little girls in Kandahar, and Izzy would join in the kids building a bridge out of sticks and asking others to help her.

Beth as VP would lead then in the international relationship-building. And a decrease in terror would ensue. How? Because she sees and is able to communicate and model how simply relationships and understanding can happen, when we become like little kids - innocent, excited, and wanting to learn new things. Play nicely.

Lotion, soccer, bridges: these go a long way in smoothing over and inspiring fun for all and movement forward.

What else? Between a Barack and Beth ticket, John McCain would salute his political days goodbye. The American people would applaud his service and support his departure, as he, himself, recognized the changing world and lesser need for his kind of governance from fear. Beth is not a leader from fear. She trusts people and their best instincts and selves. And this is exemplified in her years with Steve, and her years raising kids and seeing them successfully and happily into their adult spaces. Her leadership is really simple, and really down to earth.

Even Governor Palin is happy with Beth stepping up, as she recognizes the years of experience that Beth Borgmann has in this arena of love and relationship building and nation building. (Though Beth herself is shy on these matters, it's part of her charm.) What works well for her clan of children and family, works well with all families and those at the helm of leading people.

I wonder now, who Beth will appoint into the larger cabinet from this clan?
Hhaaaahhhhha!

Love! Happy Friday!
Melissa

The Process of Transformation: A Photo Essay Documenting Juno's Journey

I've never been satisfied with end products. As an English teacher, final essays, poems, projects submitted by my students - and standing by themselves, left me feeling wanting....

"But HOW did you get here? How did you arrive at this conclusion? At this thesis statement? With this imagery? What shaped your thinking? What were your questions? What was your process?"

These were always my burning questions. And they always created space for deep reflection, privileged sharing, and perhaps deep annoyance...Haha. But it was my life's work, to a point, right? Inviting such disclosure, and reflecting back what brilliance, gift there was inherent within.

And so it here - within my own home. Within the pages of this blog: Exposure, sharing process, disclosing thinking, documenting journey. Reflecting back.

What follows are the pictures of 1188 Juno's transformation process from this past eight weeks.

I've likened this journey to that of Diablo Cody's title character, in her movie, "Juno:"

A young woman, pregnant with life, preparing to offer up her child for another to care for.

I offer you all, as friends, readers, fellow contemplatives, the following images of my own journey preparing for the new parents of this babe, 1188 Juno.

Pray that she is received well, and cared for, eh?

Thank you,
Melissa

Starting at the foundational level: acknowledging MESS!

Tiki Kustenmacher would refer to this as the stuff below the tip of the iceberg....

David Mann arrives with Staging settees to INSPIRE transformation...We must be forward looking! Imagining! Stepping into newly created scenes...

Everything gets moved into the furnace room: Clearing for renovation!

John Hart's handywork! He arrives and cracks into what's beneath the visible...

And repairs happen....

step by step...layer by layer...

That which occurs naturally in basements: efflorescence ("the state or period of flowering" OR "the resulting powdery substance or incrustation") is tended to!

Newly applied plaster to the lathe..

Midway maybe...

Time to paint!
"Accolade" and "Dusty Trail" are chosen colors...

Choosing JOY at every stage of the game...Ha!

Patched and painted, we are ready for the new flooring...

The Original Plan: Tile, breakfast.

When adherence becomes a problem, installation of the tiles messy, John seeks new supplies to remedy the sitauation...WE NEED THINGS TO STICK!

After two attempts at sticking, John refers to this as "The Tile Fiasco!"

Let's celebrate the neater, cleaner, more simple and gloriously executed Living Room repairs!
The Main floor is always a bit easier....

No more ceiling cracks! Contemplate on that Angels...

And Christian Proetz arrives on the scene from Empire Today!

How about a little "Dusty Trail" carpeting to go with the Dusty Trail paint?
It doesn't get much more straight forward and meant to be than this...

Calculating the cost for new flooring throughout the base floor, including those steps!

A contract to complete within 48 hours!

Saturday morning, and Jorge and Paulino arrive from Empire Today!

New pad for installation...

Ripping out the covering for those steps...

A brand new roll of Dustry Trails...How perfect is that color with the tile in the kitchen?
It's going to all come together!

Jose is funny!

Mid-way through the installation...

Clean up time!

Paulino bearing the Empire Today GUARANTEE!
(Can I get one of these for this next part of my life, please?)

How beautiful is this crew?
Big Gratitude for these guys!

Another room still in need of flooring...A Before Shot...

How gorgeous is this laminate? More aligment in the color scheme...

Phil from Empire Today arrives with the sub-floor.
(How many of us know about sub-flooring? The layer underneath that supports...?)

Roger rocks the saw outside...

Friendly Phil finishing the job...

How beautiful is this, all put together?

Just awaiting trim now...

Viola! TV Room corner trimmed out!

Daniel Kerkhoff arrives to aid in the heavy lifting...

Staging that basement TV room...

Nothing like some purple settees, a little Andy Warhol art,
and red throws to liven up the place!

Beautiful Melis Arik arrives with her own red stripes, muscles and imagination to help facilitate this next part...She's all about inspired transformation!

Moving those 10 years of teaching boxes.....

With Robert Walker's Leather chair and Ottoman, we are nearing staging completion...

From another perspective, it still looks good, don't you think?

Completing the foundational floor! Furnace floor to paint...

Start by sweeping...

Dirty hands are a good sign of a day's labor...

Next prep step: Washing!

What kind of gunk lives on your basement floor?

But the payoff!

Arlo refers to this as butter...

And the laundry room....

Also asking for the same transformational treatment...

Sweet!

All those teaching files and libraries from my home and classroom: here! Organized and neatly stacked....Bring it on Home and Garden TV! Clean Sweep is Melissa's Basement!

Again, more labeled and stacked files...

Now; the Official City Inspectors! I get a crew of three in one day!

95% Efficient Furnace being checked out! Thank you Standard Heating! Thank you Inspectors!
Woohoo! Passing Approval!

Electricity is up to snuff!
My power is also approved...

Time for a visit from Margaret Post!

Blessing the basement!
This all began with CSJ Sister Jill Underdahl's prayerful words and nudging...
It only seems fitting that my dear CSJ Conscociate, MP, would arrive at the end to praise the work...

Yes! My East Coast Angel!

From Foundation to Main floor...Time to address the Exterior Cracks...

To the neighborhood flower shop for a little inspiration...

All this from Leitner's for $12?!
Gifts!

Scraping that exterior main arch on February 23rd..I was praying for a 35 degree day!

Paintin in the snow?

Yes! It happened...

Menard's inspired the additional use of heat for a good match and fusion...

Trimming the branches for the outside floral box...

How to make the arrangement stay? Add snow!

Jody takes the pictures of Melissa arranging things..

Everyone needs such a faithful friend and assistant! Ms. Jody Tigges!

Sunday, time for the backyard!

Repeat steps: Scrape!

Ladder and paint!

February 24th and WARM?!

AFTER!

Now: We need a clear sign for our new owners!

Jody is on this...

I think St. Francis agrees it's a good marker...

Time for Official Marketing! Arlo's photographer, Mike McCaw Arrives!

Snapshots of that main floor bathroom...

McCaw checks his kitchen shot....

Shooting that TV room...

Isn't she beautiful?

Now, it's all in the hands of this guy...(St. Joseph was Jesus' "Foster father" right? If he could hold that baby, couldn't he hold Juno and her new owners? eh? )

The beautiful, The Magnificent! Arlo Dissette! Realtor Extraordinaire!
If it's not in St. Joseph's hands, then this guy's for sure!

Blessings!

Click here to see Juno's Video, produced by Mike McCaw, or her official listing, courtesy of Roger Fazendin Realty and Arlo Dissette.