After a rather tumultuous stint in my tiny little high school, I left for the big city, aka, Minneapolis, the mecca of the Midwest. I attended a small bible college before hitting the big time as I call it, by attending the University of Minnesota.
In between that time I had a nervous breakdown, served some time in the psych ward, and eventually through the grace of G-d moved on with my life. Don’t worry, I feel fine now.
Actually I now live a happy life in complete faith and confidence in the grace of Jesus. Oh yeah, by the way, I’m a full fledged Jesus-seeker.
In the midst of those crazy college days I ended up getting married to a Rush Limbaugh-loving, conservative Republican from Idaho. After giving up alcoholism and drug abuse, he’s now a fellow faithful Jesus seeker with a love for youth ministry and for bringing others out of drug and alcohol addictions.
We got married and one day I decided we were moving south – goodbye 40 degrees-below-zero winters, hello flip flops in the middle of December. I left the uffdas, lutefisk and Scandinavian-filled Midwest for fried chicken, armadillos and Elvis. There I completed my degree in writing and New Testament Greek at Crichton College. I learned that I both loved and hated the south. The hospitality is great, but I was always a stranger in a foreign land.
In the midst of my senior year of college Kaydn Rye made his appearance in the world. For someone who never even planned on having children, let alone having a child in my mid-twenties, it was definitely an experience. Call it hormones or post-partum depression or stress, or whatever, I had a rough time with my very accidental motherhood experience. But eventually I adjusted and I now have a three-year-old little boy permanently attached to my hip. He’s great. He says things like, “Mom, will you please go make dinner now?”
After college, I planned on working my way into the FBI and investigating crime all day. Maybe I’d backpack Europe, jump out of an airplane, write the greatest short stories of this century and then retire on my own private island in the Caribbean.
Instead, after college I began working as a journalist in a little podunk town in the middle of South Dakota. That was a crazy adventure. Newspaper writing and motherhood is a hard combination to mix. It was then that I began my days as an accidental housewife. I decided to forego the FBI, as disappointed as they are I’m sure, and I started a judgment enforcement and recovery company from my home office.
In 2007 my husband confirmed the inevitable, we were moving back to North Dakota. (Sigh) He’s now an insurance agent in the very same little town I grew up in. As absolutely insane as the idea of moving to North Dakota sounded, I have learned to go where G-d calls. It’s not like it’s the Alaskan wilderness. I figured if I could avoid getting shot on the streets of Memphis, I could survive the winters on the tundra. North Dakota is the only place on earth that I know of that experiences 100 degree summers (which is about two months out of the year by the way), 40 below temperatures and waist deep snow in the winter (which is about six months out of the year by the way) and wind that will literally blow you away to the next little podunk town.
We now live the small town life, with neighbors that know our every move and all the lefse you can eat. The highlights of our year are the state fair, Goosefest, the Norsk Hostfest and the annual threshing bee. We just bought our dream house high on the hill in the middle of town. Life is a dream.
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