The Waiting Game
Tuesday, May 29, 2012

          I spend great deal of my time waiting. I wait in line at the stop sign. I wait at red lights and in line at the bank. I wait for the alarm clock to go off in the morning, and I wait on hold for tech support when my computer is acting up. I wait for the coffee pot to finish brewing, the popcorn to stop popping and for the sun to set so I can do it all over again tomorrow.

Waiting is a funny thing. Whatever you are waiting for can’t come fast enough and time seems to stand still. Time seems to move backwards. Seconds seem like minutes. Minutes seem like hours and hours can feel like days.

Now as a mom of tweens and teens, I spend even more time waiting for them. As their official taxi driver, I wait for Sydney and Riley after baton lessons. I wait for Hannah after basketball practices. On game days, I take her in early and wait for the game to begin. In the fall I wait for Sydney’s cross country practice to end, and in the spring I wait for her track practice to end. At her track meets, I wait for a lifetime between her long jump and her mile run. Every winter, I wait for Colin’s basketball games to begin. And all year long, I wait for all of their homework to be done so we can have supper. Wait, wait, wait. It seems like all I do is wait.

Though I wait, I am also a practical mom. As such, I have come up with a few useful waiting tips. Things you can do while you are waiting. (This relates back to my impatient nature, mind you).

While I am waiting for the popcorn in the microwave, I load the dishwasher and wipe the sink. While I am waiting in line at the grocery store checkout, I pray for each person in line in front of me. And best of all, while waiting in my minivan in a parking lot somewhere for one of my children to finish some athletic practice or lesson, I have found numerous things I can do.

Here goes….

I can read a book. I have read many a chapter while minivan waiting. In fact I have expanded my library to meet my waiting needs.

I can file and paint my nails. This has become a mainstay for my manicure needs.

I can pluck the hair from my chin and shape my eyebrows (sorry to the men out there for the bluntness…).

I can grade papers, read my Bible, an even make that phone call to the person I have been meaning to call for weeks.

I am not sure what that all says about who I am, other than I am impatient. But instead of wasting time when it stands still, I try to make use of those waiting moments in my life.

American writer Brian Andreas once said “Time stands still best in moments that look suspiciously like ordinary life,” and I couldn’t agree more.
            But maybe life is about the waiting and not the arriving. If we embrace our ordinary moments and stop waiting for what’s coming next, we can make our ordinary moments…extraordinary.

So when the sun finally sets, we can thank the Lord for the gift of getting to do it all over again.

Look for Trish’s newest book, a Scrapbook of Motherhood Firsts, and catch up with Trish at www.TrishBerg.com.

Posted by Trish Berg 5:00 AM 0 comments  



20 Things in 20 Years
Tuesday, May 22, 2012

            This month, my husband, Mike, and I are celebrating twenty years of marriage. It has flown by, and yet life keeps changing. I am blessed to be married to my best friend, and I would be remiss if I didn’t share some of what I have learned in the last twenty years. So, here are twenty things I have learned in the twenty years I have been married to Mike.

One. I am blessed more than I could ever have deserved.

Two. The wedding is a blip on the radar screen of life, so don’t sweat the small stuff.

Three. The honeymoon is the only guilt-free vacation you will ever take where you don’t worry about what you spend and the time away.

Four. Love grows if you allow it to.

Five. Letting your love grow for your spouse is a choice you make every day.

Six. Becoming parents is a big, adventurous journey, so buckle up and enjoy the ride.

Seven. Motherhood changes you. Period.

Eight. Sleep deprivation is a part of life when you are a mom.

Nine. Coffee. Need I say more?

Ten. Accepting your husband’s flaws will allow you to love him just as he is.

Eleven. You are far from perfect yourself and he will need to accept your flaws as well.

Twelve. If you are not patient at twenty, you will not become more patient at forty. Sorry, that’s just the reality of life.

Thirteen. Patience is overrated.

Fourteen. You will make mistakes daily.

Fifteen. Your husband will make mistakes daily.

Sixteen. Forgiveness is the key to a long marriage.

Seventeen. Setting up the coffee pot for your husband before you go to bed is one way to tell him you love him.

Eighteen. Kiss him goodbye in the morning, every morning, even if you don’t feel like it.

Nineteen. Kiss him goodnight every night. Period.

Twenty. If you are blessed to have a loving husband, cherish him. He is a one of a kind, gift from God. A reminder of Christ’s love for us in this whirlwind tornado we call living.

Mike-Thank you for putting up with me and all of my quirks and flaws. For bringing me coffee when I am up working late on schoolwork. For being quiet when you get up at five in the morning so that I can sleep in until six. For taking care of me and our four children, and providing for our family. Thank you for forgiving me every time I fail, and for loving me in spite of my flaws. Thank you for thinking I am beautiful in a world that tells me perfection is the standard. Thank you for making me a better me each and every day of my life. Most of all, thank you for introducing me to Jesus. I love you more each day.

Happy Anniversary, Babe.

           

Look for Trish’s newest book, a Scrapbook of Motherhood Firsts, and catch up with Trish at www.TrishBerg.com.

Posted by Trish Berg 5:34 AM 0 comments  



OCC Day of Service
Wednesday, May 16, 2012

            It has been said that it is easier to give than receive. I know that I have seen that truth reflected in my life. When we give to someone else, we feel good, valued and needed. When we are the receivers, we sometimes feel dependent and needy. Though I am trying to be a better receiver, it is still difficult for me to do.

But we are not only called to give, we are called to receive. For without receivers, there would be no one to give to. And so the story goes.

At Orrville Christian Church (OCC), we have decided to try and do both-to give and to receive. We started a monthly Day of Service where church volunteers go out into the Orrville community and serve families in various ways. We started with people we knew, people from our congregation. And what a day it was!

We met at the church early on a Saturday morning and gathered for coffee (much needed) and prayer. Day of Service Coordinator, Dave Ryan, had spent a month or so visiting families, figuring out what projects we would complete. He read each project out loud, and we decided where we would go for the morning. Then we joined hands and said a prayer that God would be at work in and through each of us, and the families we would meet.

Funny thing but the work we accomplished had very little to do with the actual work itself. This is a lesson I learned almost twenty years ago on a mission trip in Chicago. I was chaperoning our (then) youth group and had been lecturing the teens on the entire drive from Ohio to Illinois about how hard they were to work and how much they were to accomplish. But as usual, I, myself, had a lot to learn.

On our first morning, sitting on the front porch of the bungalow where we stayed, the mission trip leader sipped his coffee and told the teens that it was not about the work. (What?!) He said it was about the people. He told the teens to take time to talk to the hosts and families we were there to help and not to worry about the work itself.

He taught me a life lesson that I still try to live by twenty years later. It’s not about the work. It’s always about the people. Period.

During the first OCC Day of Service, our whole family got involved. Hannah went with the youth group to lay mulch at one home, Sydney visited residents at a nursing home, Colin helped clean out a frog pond, and Mike and I took Riley to a home to move furniture, wash a porch and weed flower beds.

We accomplished a lot, but the biggest accomplishments were the smiles and faith we shared with those we met.

It is always easier to be the giver than the receiver, and I want to thank the amazing families who allowed us to give to them. We received more than we could have ever given to them. So the first monthly OCC Day of Service was a huge success, not because of the projects we completed, but because of the people we met.  

And though we are still figuring things out, with God’s help, our monthly Day of Service can become a light in the Orrville community.

If you live in the Orrville area and would like the OCC Day of Service volunteers to work at your home, please contact Dave Ryan at OCC at 330-682-3686. Also, if your church is interested in starting your OWN Day of Service, we would like to partner with you - contact Dave Ryan at 330-682-3686.

Posted by Trish Berg 5:35 AM 0 comments  



Paper Hearts
Tuesday, May 08, 2012

     Mother’s Day is around the corner, and I can hardly wait for my family to bring me breakfast in bed and shower me with gifts. Let’s face it; their breakfasts have gotten much better over the years, from burnt toast and watery, scrambled eggs to omelets and muffins, and coffee with cinnamon bun creamer to wash it all down. Yum!

Mother’s Day is a day when I get to take a nap, guilt free, for as long as I like. My sweet husband and children work very hard to make it a special day, a quiet day of rest, and a day when I feel the love they have for me.

For seventeen years, I have received many Mother’s Day gifts, ones that might not bring ten cents at a garage sale, but are priceless in my heart. I have been given paper hearts cut out of colored construction paper with “I luve you” misspelled and written with the letters backwards. I have been given ink hand prints and lace covered handmade cards, clay pinch pots and even a wooden cross tied together with twine. One year, Hannah even wrote me a book about why she loved me. Sydney drew a picture of our family standing outside our old farmhouse. Colin wrote me a poem and Riley drew a picture of her and me and wrote “I love you mom becuz you make me smile.”

Many of these Mother’s Day treasures are tucked away safe and sound in the attic in a box of memories. Some are tucked in my Bible, and some still hang on the fridge. If I could gather all of my Mother’s Day gifts from all of the years I have been a mom and pile them high, they might only reach to the top of the coffee table. Many of them are small, handmade, and inexpensive. Most are scribbles and notes from children with peanut butter under their finger nails and milk mustaches.

How has it been that seventeen years has gone by since I became a mom? If I said the time has gone quickly, that would be an understatement. If I said that our lives have changed, that would hardly express where we have been and where we are going. And though I don’t know what the future holds, I know what the past has held, and my mommy-moments are filled with Mother’s Day memories and gifts which I will always cherish.

Only five days and counting to Mother’s Day, and I can almost taste the omelet and blueberry muffin as I snuggle warm in my bed. I am not sure who started the breakfast-in-bed tradition for Mother’s Day, but bless them! It is a great way to start your day!

Though I cherished the early years of my mothering, I honestly don’t miss the burnt toast and watery, scrambled eggs. I always love what my kiddos get for me every year, but part of me misses the paper hearts with “I luve you” misspelled and written with the letters backwards.

Those treasured gifts are tucked away in my heart. And even though they were made of paper, they are forever written in stone. And when I am old and gray, they will keep me warmer than any quilt ever could.

And until that day comes, all I can hope is that I still make them smile.

Look for Trish’s new book A Scrapbook of Motherhood Firsts, and catch up with her at www.TrishBerg.com.


Posted by Trish Berg 12:00 AM 0 comments  

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Confessions of a Grumpy Mom
Monday, May 07, 2012

          I have to confess something to you. I am a grumpy mom. At least I can be at times, and last night was one of those times.

I walked down to the basement to switch laundry loads in the never ending battle between clean and dirty clothes, which I seem to be losing. I arrived in the laundry room only to discover that the washer load I thought was in the dryer had been sitting in the washer, wet and moldy smelling, making me grumble under my breath.

So I cranked the dial, added new detergent, and re-ran the washer load to eliminate the smell.

I stomped up the stairs with the weight of the world on my shoulders, thinking that the loud stomping noises might forewarn my family to steer clear of me.

Then I heard two of my children (who shall remain nameless to protect the innocent) fighting in the bathroom. So I marched in there and yelled at them. I said something like “Stop fighting, stop picking on each other. If you each just worry about yourself, life would be great!” with a voice dripping with sarcasm and vinegar.

I walked out into the family room to see the un-swept carpets with crumbs from who-knows-what and the book bags and shoes strewn about the room, and grumped at the other two children (who shall remain nameless for the same reason) about picking up their stuff, and doing their homework and chores.

I was like a tornado whirling around destroying all in sight. I guess misery does love company and all.

I think my shoulders had become earrings I had them lifted so high, my brow was furrowed and my eyes were slits of bitterness. I imagined I looked like the wicked witch of the west about that time (though I dare not look in the mirror) and almost heard her bike-riding music playing in the background of my psyche.

I grumped about the messy kitchen and the dishes that were not washed. I grumped about the homework that was not yet done, and the bedtime that was being surpassed. I even grumped at my husband for wanting to take me on a date Saturday night because, well, I was just too busy to go.

Mike, smart husband that he is, simply kissed my forehead and went off to bed. How could he be so calm when my world was crashing around me in a pile of debris?

My kids eventually snuck off to bed with whispers, tiptoeing to their rooms so as not to awaken the beast within their mom, avoiding being yelled at for, whatever

After the house was quiet and everyone was in bed but me, I sat all alone in my grumpiness. I realized that my bad mood had nothing to do with them at all. I was feeling stressed about my own workload and overwhelmed with the thought of accomplishing everything I needed to accomplish in the next month, which was never going to get done.

So, I took a deep breath, said a prayer, and let it all go. All of it.

Now you know my secret. I can sometimes be a grumpy mom.

I just hope that my quiet, loving mom-moments outweigh my grumpy-moments and that my family forgives me when the ugly beast appears.

And maybe tonight I can be a cool spring breeze instead of a tornado.

Look for Trish’s new book A Scrapbook of Motherhood Firsts, and catch up with her at www.TrishBerg.com.


Posted by Trish Berg 12:51 PM 0 comments  



Summer is in the Air
Tuesday, April 24, 2012

     I may be jumping the gun, but I am in the mood for summer. Each day when the sun shines and the temperature gets above 60, I feel like summer is in the air. We already have our porch swing set up, the rockers are set out on the porch with throw pillows and old quilts< The kids are playing outside after school until we drag them in kicking and screaming for showers and homework.

Ahhh, I love summertime. Not the heat, mind you. I love air conditioning more than sweating through my t-shirt. But I love the slower pace of summertime, the long days, the last minute plans, the grilling out, and the just- doing-nothing-at-all-ordinary moments.

To me, summertime is about the time we spend with our family and friends. I love making iced tea or lemonade and sipping it on the porch while visiting with a friend who popped over unexpectedly. I love taking a walk with the kids on the country roads around our farm, and talking about complex subjects like what to make for supper or which ice cream flavor is the best. I love going on bike rides on the bike trails to nowhere at all and staying up well past bedtime knowing we can all sleep in a little in the morning.

Some of my favorite summer evenings involve lighting a fire in our fire pit and roasting hot dogs and marshmallows, sitting by the fire’s glow until well past dark as the kids catch lightening bugs and climb the chestnut tree as high as they can go. Summertime is about going barefoot in the grass, running through the sprinkler and eating popsicles on the front porch. About hiking, biking and liking every minute of it.

Summertime is about the joy in the ordinary moments of life when we are not in a rush to get somewhere or do something. When we can sit and watch a youth baseball game and catch up with friends we have not seen since last baseball season. It’s about camping, exploring and re-discovering old friendships and new adventures.

I plant a vegetable garden in the summer, but spend more time raising weeds than vegetables. I plant flowers in the summer, but spend more time wishing I had a green thumb than enjoying the blooms. My windows get dusty in the summer, and I usually have to wash them a few times. Oh the screens need to be repaired, the porch needs to be scrubbed and the lawn must be mowed. There is always more work than there are hours in the day in the summertime.

But it doesn’t seem to get me down, and let me assure you that I spend more time sipping lemonade than getting work done. Summer is about the people, and I just love people, hanging out with new friends and old. And summertime is the perfect time to do that.

Ahhh, the warm breezes in Ohio mean that summer is in the air. I may go and sit on our porch swing this evening and watch the kids playing outside. I might even sip on some lemonade. Though I may need to wear a jacket just yet, and maybe warm coffee might be better than lemonade. But if I take a deep breath, I can tell that summer is in the air.

And summertime is the perfect time to make the ordinary….extraordinary.

Look for Trish’s new book A Scrapbook of Motherhood Firsts, and catch up with her at www.TrishBerg.com.

Posted by Trish Berg 6:00 AM 0 comments  



Lessons Learned
Wednesday, April 18, 2012

     I have been a student for much of my life. I learned my ABCs and 123s in preschool, reading in Kindergarten, and math, social studies, geography and science through twelfth grade. Some things came easy to me, like math. It always made sense when numbers added up and formulas worked out. English class was always fun because I enjoyed reading great stories, and sentence structure seemed logical. History and science were not my strong suits, but I hung in there, and graduated from high school.
But that was just the beginning of my education.

I went to college, and later graduate school. Attended more conferences and training seminars than I could imagine. But as much education as I have had, most of what I have learned has not come from any book. No PowerPoint presentation or lecture notes have taught me what I truly needed to learn in life. Though I have had some fantastic professors, my real knowledge has come from my students, not my teachers.

That has never been truer than this year at Malone. I have been blessed to work with some of Malone University’s finest students through working with the SIFE (Students in Free Enterprise) team, a student business organization which works to empower those in need through the power of positive business in our community and our world.

And though that is their tagline, I found that my students lived this out this year through their ministries, and through ministering to me.

Jasmine taught me to never give up on a friendship, and to trust God for the outcome.

Hannah taught me to live outside of my comfort zone and never be afraid to try something new.

Marcus taught me to see the potential in everybody, find the joy in the little things and to know that God can use us in ways we could hardly imagine.

Chrissy taught me to laugh, a lot, and live life with joy in my heart.

Nate taught me to accept the day I have been given but still work hard to reach the goals I have set.

Tyler taught me about forgiveness, friendship and respect, and how to trust each other come what may.

Liz taught that quietness can be powerful and that kindness is always needed.

Ben taught me that God loves surprises, and that even small things can make a big difference in our lives.

Gideon, well Gideon taught me about servant leadership, and how God can use us in amazing ways if we allow Him room to grow in us.

Over my lifetime, I may have spent many years in a classroom, but I have learned more from my students than I could have ever taught them. Some lessons came easy to me, like joy and hard work. That makes sense to me. But some lessons are more difficult for me to get, like accepting God’s will when it is not my will and trusting the path He has me on.

Most of all, I am praising God for connecting me with this SIFE team, people I will never forget because God put them in my life right when I needed them the most.

Some things don’t come easy to me, like change. It always makes more sense when things stay the same and life works out the way I want it to.

But I’d better hang in there because this is just the beginning of my education.

Look for Trish’s new book A Scrapbook of Motherhood Firsts, and catch up with her at www.TrishBerg.com.

Posted by Trish Berg 11:14 AM 0 comments  



Making Memories
Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Memories are a funny thing. We do not always control what we hold onto and what we let go of, though I wish I could. Sometimes I wish I could plant all of these seed memories in my children’s hearts so that twenty or thirty years from now, they can remember all of the times we spent together, and the joy we shared. But they have to make their own memories. They have to decide what to hold onto and what to let go of. I can’t make their memories for them.

We just spent the past few days at my parents’ cottage outside of Marblehead, relaxing and slowing life down a bit. The cottage is not fancy. A little blue A-frame with a loft and 2 bedrooms, and a wood burning stove that heats it all. It is cozy and small, but we feel right at home there. We don’t go there for luxury. We go there to get away from the demands of life and reconnect with each other.

As we drive over the overpass that crosses the lake to the island cottage, I feel my shoulders relax and my stress release. There is just something about getting away and spending time at the cottage.

My grandma Knoedler used to have a red cottage at Lake Erie near Ashtabula, and we spent many summers there swimming at the beach, collecting rainbow glass and watching the sun set over the bluff as we sat in rockers at the end of the road. We ate suppers on garage sale fodder plates on the back screened in porch on picnic tables strung together to make enough room for all.

I have so many memories from that old red cottage. We turned that attic into a haunted house, made homemade strawberry jam with grandma, and learned how to crochet by the old stone fireplace on cold evenings. Her cottage was not fancy, either, but it was home.

I wonder what my own kids will remember form our adventures at this cottage. Will they remember riding bikes around the island, eating hamburgers and hot dogs on the deck and playing whiffle ball in the front yard? Will they cherish the memories of the couch bed that never quite seems comfortable and the loft where they play music on the electric keyboard?

Will they speak with fondness of how they have to say “Open Says Me” to get the magic gate to go up on the causeway, a tradition we started with them when they were toddlers? Will they remember arriving on cold winter nights, wrapping in blankets until we got the fire going in the old stove to warm up the place? Playing Dutch Blitz and Euchre around the kitchen table? Watching movies until well past midnight?

Will they hold onto the times we spent at the beach splashing in the waves and warming up in the summer sun? Playing Frisbee in the sand and collecting far too many seashells to count?

Memories are a funny thing. We do not always control what we hold onto and what we let go of, though I wish I could. I wish I could take mental pictures of everything I cherish today so it could become a treasure for tomorrow.

Since that is not possible, all I can do is try to live in the moment today so that tomorrow, the memory of this day is one worth keeping.

Look for Trish’s new book A Scrapbook of Motherhood Firsts, and catch up with her at www.TrishBerg.com.

Posted by Trish Berg 7:50 AM 0 comments  

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Easter Blessings
Wednesday, April 04, 2012

When I think back over my lifetime, there are so many blessings it is difficult to comprehend. I have been given so much that I do not deserve. Evening knowing that, most days I still focus on what is wrong in my life. The job that is ending, the friends who have hurt my feelings, the imperfect house with imperfect stuff and bills that loom over my head every month. I gripe about the seven year old minivan and sixteen year old Jeep that carry us from here to there and the people in my life make me feel less than accepted and much less loved.

Yes, I could hold a regular old pity party for myself on a daily basis, and many days I do just that. I moan and groan about all that is wrong in my life, my home and this world. I feel bad for the hand I have been dealt, and I long for the perfect family in the perfect home with the perfect life that everyone else seems to have.

I long to be something I am not and become frustrated when I can’t get there.

We all tend to focus on the frustrations of our lives, and forget to focus on the blessings. I think it’s easier to be a complainer than an optimist, and we are all so good at complaining. It’s contagious, you know. Complaining. Like catching a cold. We sneeze negativity on each other and pass around anger and bitterness, and then wonder why we feel so bad all of the time.

But being an optimist seems to be outdated. Have you ever met someone who truly loves life and smiles all the time? Someone who sees the positive focuses on their blessings rather than their struggles? I have, and they are the people in my life that I want to be around more often. Like joy on feet, they spread smiles instead of bitterness.

I try to be like that, really I do. I try to see the positive, smile, and be joyful. But I also let myself get caught up in the whirlwind of everything that is wrong in my life.

Sometimes I get it right.

Hands down, the best compliment I ever received was from a young man I had not seen in ten years. He was a teenager the last time I saw him, and now was twenty-two . He shared with me that he remembered camping with our family many years back, and remembered most that I was always smiling.

I try to live up to that memory, and though I don’t always get it right, I still try.

So this Easter, I want to count my blessings, I want to remember what I have been given which is far beyond anything I could have ever deserved. I want to focus on what is right in my life. I want to ditch the pity party, let go of perfection and embrace the life I have.

After all, it’s the only one I will ever be given, so I might as well learn to live it well.

This Easter, I want to spread joy to those around me and share smiles so that they catch it, too. And maybe, just maybe, if I can do that, they can see a glimpse of the joy that can only be found in Christ, in the gift of the empty tomb. In the gift of Easter.

Ahhhh….Ahhhhh….Ahhhhh…CHOOOOOOO!

Happy Easter everyone.

Look for Trish’s new book A Scrapbook of Motherhood Firsts, and catch up with her at www.TrishBerg.com.

Posted by Trish Berg 7:12 AM 0 comments  

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Dad Picks Up Pillows

I am not a fan of reality TV. Well, that’s not exactly the truth. I am embarrassed to admit publically that I sometimes watch a reality TV show. It is almost like watching a car accident happen, knowing bad things are ahead and you are not able to stop it. Not that anyone would listen to you.

For years, I watched American Idol and Survivor, but eventually grew tired of the same old same old. On American Idol, they spend far too much time in the preliminaries humiliating horrible singers and far too much time near the end nit picking the good ones apart. And I am convinced that Survivor is about giving power to the most corrupt, dishonest individual on the team only to then get angry when he wins a million dollars and you didn’t.

Oh there are other reality TV catastrophies, too many to count. From The Bachelor to Bethany Ever After and One Born Every Minute, you can watch people make fools of themselves from dating through childbirth. There seem to be no limits to what people will put on television and what we are willing to watch.

Reality TV has made so many stars out of nobodies its hard to count, and we seem to admire these nobodies for acting like idiots. Sorry if that offends you, but it’s the nicest word I could find.

Since there have been so many reality TV successes, I have decided to give it a try. Why not? I could start my own reality TV show. I might as well cash in on the cash cow, don’t ya think?

The first show that we could launch is Dad Picks Up Pillows. Every time Mike walks through the family room, he bends low to pick up the throw pillows the children have strewn about the family room floor. Let’s just say Mike is not a throw pillow fan, but I love having them on the couches. Hey, we could argue about that, might bring the ratings up.

We could launch Not Me, the mystery show where things go wrong in our family and we try to figure out whodunit. There is a bike left in the yard overnight in the rain, or the laundry is washed with bleach instead of Tide. When the kids are asked whodunit, they each say “Not me,” and the investigation could begin. We could switch from scene to scene with the Law and Order “ching ching” and interrogate the suspects in separate rooms.

We could launch What’s for Dinner, a show where we fight over what to have for dinner each night. The kids could campaign for pizza and brownies, Mike could persuade me to make cheeseburger soup, and I could suggest ordering Chinese take-out. This show has promise. It could involve the grocery store, budgeting our money, and spoiled produce. Think of the plot turns when the oven breaks!

The list of reality shows we could launch seems endless. Whose Turn Is It To Clean the Litterbox; Where are My Socks; Late Night Homework Fiasco; and even That’s Not My Fault.

Then again, I kind of like my plain-old life without the cameras and stage crew. There is enough drama in real life without the make-believe world of reality TV. And besides, the camera puts on ten pounds, and I am trying to lose weight, not gain it.

Look for Trish’s new book A Scrapbook of Motherhood Firsts, and catch up with her at www.TrishBerg.com.

Posted by Trish Berg 7:10 AM 0 comments  

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Hide and Seek

There is something exciting about playing hide and seek with an Easter egg. Though they do all of the hiding and we do all of the seeking. When I was little, I remember going to the community wide Easter egg hunt at the park, and running across the grass to try and fill my basket with eggs just as fast as my feet would carry me. I wanted to get all of the good eggs before any of the other kids did. It was like a race to the best, and the biggest egg always won a grand prize.

My husband, Mike’s Grandma Brillhart hosted an Easter egg hunt every year at her house in the woods. She would hide plastic eggs all around their yard with coins in them. Quarters and half dollars. And all the grandkids, from the youngest to the grown ups, would run around the yard and see how many they could find.

Funny thing about Grandma Brillhart is that she also tucked a Bible verse in each egg with the money. Guess she had bigger plans than our buying a cone at the Dariette with our treasures.

Now that we have children of our own, Mike and I have spent many an April morning following our children around our church hunting for Easter eggs. We hunt for eggs at our home farm, though the kids are getting smarter and smarter and seem to know where all the good hiding places are now.

Now that we have teenagers, the hide and seek has become even more of a challenge. Mike takes it very personally and tries to come up with harder and harder places to hide the Easter eggs. But we still play hide and seek with Easter eggs. I guess there is a little kid in all of us, and Easter is the perfect time to let that kid out to play.

And Easter is the perfect time to seek God in the bigger hunt of life –the hunt for love and acceptance.

That’s God’s bigger plan, the grand prize of Easter. That we know His love. His gift.

God is love, and that is better than a great big yellow Easter egg. Better than a three foot tall chocolate bunny or coins that rattle against the plastic shell. God’s love is there, and it isn’t hiding at all, but we do have to seek it.

God is love, and His love isn’t wrapped up in a shiny pink or yellow Easter egg. God’s love is wrapped up in the sacrifice of the cross and the hope of the resurrection of Jesus.

I guess God has bigger plans than chocolate bunnies and marshmallow peeps.

So put on your Sunday best, grab your biggest basket and go Easter egg hunting with me. And together, we can find a treasure worth celebrating. A gift worth sharing.

There’s always plenty of love to go around. God’s love is in plain sight, for all to seek and for all to find.

Look for Trish’s new book A Scrapbook of Motherhood Firsts, and catch up with her at www.TrishBerg.com.

Posted by Trish Berg 7:09 AM 0 comments  

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The Chronicles of Forgiveness

With Easter around the corner, I find myself thinking about forgiveness. Isn’t that what Easter is about? We have been forgiven so much through the cross and we are called to live out forgiveness in our own lives. Usually easier said than done.

I have found that forgiveness always tastes sweeter once it is given away, but I tend to forget that. I tend to hold onto bad feelings and bitterness like they were my best friends, when I know in my heart that God has a better plan for my life.

As I ponder forgiveness, I think of my dad, Peter. The memories come rushing back and it warms my heart to remember the good times, like swimming with my dad at Jaquay Lake, or chasing the Thanksgiving Day Parade down 5th Avenue in Manhattan. But sometimes it hurts, remembering when he wasn’t there.

Peter was a good man, born to Italian immigrants in Brooklyn, New York, spending his youth at Mastic Beach, and his twenties in the Marine Corps. He was handsome and very intelligent, and worked for NASA on their Apollo missions much of my childhood. I never doubted that he loved me, though he didn’t say it often, if at all.

My dad was tall and strong, though I guess every dad looks tall and strong in the eyes of a little girl. But life is complex, and my parents divorced when I was ten years old. My dad moved to Florida, though it might as well have been the moon.

My sister and I spent summer vacations and holidays flying to Florida, California, New York, or wherever he was living at the time. He lived the life of a nomad, traveling wherever each engineering project took him. Settling down to be a dad didn’t rank very high on his priority list, and it felt as if he was running away from us.

I spent so many years chasing after him, trying to make him proud of me.

It still brings tears to my eyes to remember that he missed my high school graduation, my college graduation, my high school basketball games and so many birthdays and life events I couldn’t even tally them.

When I let those memories flood back into my heart, the pain is real, it is alive, and it hurts. But I also remember how I found forgiveness in the most unlikely place at the most unlikely time.

My dad died in 1997, right after my second daughter was born. But the man that died was hardly the man I grew up with. He had a stroke in 1992, and soon after, my husband and I moved him into our home and began caring for him.

His health deteriorated for several years, and his mind began to fade. It was as if his childhood memories happened yesterday, yet he couldn’t remember what he ate for lunch. He developed pneumonia, and was hospitalized for the last month of his life, knowing he was going to die. He was broken, from the inside out, and he knew it. But in his brokenness, he found strength and courage, and I found forgiveness.

On a cold November day, in a cold hospital room, my father found the warmth of Jesus and the promise of Easter, only two days before he died. And I discovered that faith is stronger than anger, and love is warmer than hate.

I may not have had the dad of my dreams growing up, but I did have the dad I was meant to have. And until the chronicles of my own life end, I can continue to forgive and cling to the hope found only in Easter.

Posted by Trish Berg 7:08 AM 0 comments  

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Regret
Tuesday, March 06, 2012

If I could go back in time to any point in my life, what would I change? Do I have anything that I regret enough that it would be worth traveling back in time to make a different decision? After pondering this for about a week, I am not sure I am any closer to an answer. Don’t get me wrong, I do have regrets. I imagine we all do. There are so many things in my past that I wish I could have done better, but I am not sure going backwards in time is the answer.

Given that there are many things in my life that I could not change, from being bullied as an elementary school student to my parents’ divorce when I was nine. But when I think of things I was in control of, decisions that I made that I could have made better, there are probably too many to count.

I regret not staying close to my cousin, Vickie. She and I were the same age and we grew up as bosom buddies from the time we could walk and talk through junior high. But once high school hit, we stopped hanging out. We went to different schools and hung around a different crowd. Vickie died when she was thirty-one, while I was eight months pregnant with Colin. I miss her a lot, and I wish I would not have let her slip out of my life.

I regret not being kind to some of the outsiders in high school. I was far from being on the inside of the in-crowd, but I did have a circle of friends from the basketball team and was well-liked by many. I never took the opportunity to reach out to those who had fewer friends, never took the time to reach beyond my own comfort zone of friendships. I might have made a difference in someone’s life, and I never took the chance.

I regret all of the fighting and arguing with my sister growing up. We always had a best-friend-worst-enemy relationship, and I wish it could have been more on the friend side. I wish I would have been kinder to her, and hung out with her more. We are friends now, but life is so busy that we don’t get together as much as I would like to.

I regret being disrespectful to my mom and step-father. They never deserved that. But I guess teenagers go through that phase and I was no exception. I regret going out of state to college, moving into an apartment at twenty, and staying with my high school boyfriend for four-and-a-half years.

There are many more regrets, and some are so personal I would never share them outside of my own heart and prayers. But even if I could go back in time to any point in my life, I don’t think I would change anything. Even my regrets shape who I am today, through all of the bad decisions, pain and sorrow, God was molding me into who He wanted me to become. He still is.

So instead of going backwards, I will look forwards, and walk by faith each day. The best I can hope for is to learn from my regrets how to be who I am meant to be, keeping my eye on the horizon.

And maybe that’s the point.

Note: Thanks, Adam, for the time travel.

You can reach at www.trishberg.com.

Posted by Trish Berg 5:00 AM 1 comments  

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The Signs of Motherhood
Tuesday, February 28, 2012

As I was driving down the road the other day, I noticed a sign on the side that read “Men at Work.” Just ahead, there was a group of men, and yes, they were working on the road. Because I am who I am (weird), it got me to thinking about signs, work and motherhood. On my thirty minute drive to work I began to ponder the signs we could post around our lives as moms.

SNOOZE BUTTON MORNING. Place this outside your bedroom door when you want a little extra sleep, or want your family to simply leave you alone because, well, you are in one of those moods.

BAD HAIR DAY. You could wear this like a button or a lapel pin, and then people would know your hair actually looks better than it does that day.

DON’T ASK. Place this sign strategically near where you are sitting when you have had one of those days and simply do not want to talk about it.

HANDLE WITH CARE. You could place this sign next to you when you are on the verge of tears because someone treated you with cruelty or insensitivity during your day and your heart feels like it might just take up permanent residency in your throat.

FFY. This is a sign I post on a weekly basis in our kitchen when I have no time or energy to make or think about making supper. FFY stands for Fend For Yourself. On those nights, my family makes their own meal which can be anything from left overs to Lucky Charms.

DO NOT DISTURB. This is a sign you need when you fall asleep on the couch after supper and just want twenty minutes of solitude and silence.

I DON’T KNOW. This is a sign I want to post when my children come to me with a million questions like, “Where are my socks,” and “Where did you put my uniform?” Somehow, I became responsible for every stitch of clothing in our home even though I only wear one-sixth of them.

NO WHINING ALLOWED. This is a sign I want in every room of my house. Though much of the whining has disappeared as our children have grown up, we still have a shivers-up-your-spine-high-pitch-whine every once in a while, and it makes me crazy.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T. I think this sign should be a musical sign, like those musical birthday cards you can buy. This sign is needed when my teenagers are asking for something and the answer is “no.” The moment their disrespectful tone begins, the sign would blurt out the Aretha Franklin song and I could point to the sign and walk away. Ahhhh….

Life is hard work, motherhood even harder. I think we may need to invest in some signs to post throughout our days. So many signs, so little time. Other signs I could use are COFFEE BREWING, IN NEED OF PATIENCE and DATE NIGHT, for obvious reasons. There are a million more I am sure you can come up with.

Then again, all of these motherhood signs might just clutter up our lives, and give us one more thing to dust on cleaning day. So how about one sign that says it all: “Faith at Work,” which I think trumps all the rest.

You can reach at www.trishberg.com.

Posted by Trish Berg 5:00 AM 1 comments  

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Space Invaders
Wednesday, February 22, 2012

I'll admit it. I am a born neat-nick. (At least that’s what my mom calls it.) But being a neat nick is very difficult when there are four aliens (I mean children) constantly invading MY space with THEIR stuff. Like space invaders, they have taken over my life.

Not too many years ago, I hit rock bottom in my addiction for cleanliness. I was wearing myself out trying to keep THEIR stuff out of MY space. You see, my space is meant to be clean, organized, color coated and labeled. And, MY space makes up most of the house (well, it should, anyway). Oh, I let my children have a rec room in the basement and toy boxes in their bedrooms, but that's it. THEIR stuff should be kept in corners and MY house should be kept clean.

And their stuff should be sorted, boxed and labeled.

For many years, I spent hours running around the house in a fit of exhaustion picking up toys, clothes, dirty socks and earrings. Bobby pins that have apparently popped off my daughters’ heads randomly throughout the house and Nurtigrain wrappers that are hidden under couch cushions. I would break out into a cold sweat during those ten minute tidies trying to keep my space immaculate. But it never stayed clean! It was like shoveling your driveway during a blizzard; the mess just kept on coming.

Then at some point in my parenting years I realized I had been running so fast, keeping up such a cleaning pace, that I had forgotten who I was. You see, I may have been born a neat-nick, but God made me a mom. I knew that a joyful mom and a relaxed home were more important than winning the clean house of the year award (and who needs another plaque to dust).

I needed to be reminded about what was most important. In fact, I still need to be reminded on a daily basis. In the blink of an eye, my beautiful children will be grown up, and heading off to college, marriage, and their own lives, and my house will be neat again. But it will also be empty since my space invaders will be gone.

The time I have with them here is limited. In fact, there are only so many times I will get morning hugs before breakfast. Only so many goodnight kisses and bedtime prayers in my life. So I’d better find a way to enjoy my children, clutter and all.

After all, my space would be very lonely without my space invaders. And since they come with stuff, I guess it’s a package deal.

I still prefer a clean house, but I have lowered my standards. Now there is laundry here and there at every stage. There are school books on the kitchen table and earrings on the counter. And if you are brave enough to dig, you might even find a Nutrigrain wrapper under a couch cushion or two. Twenty years from now, my kids will cherish the moments we spent popping popcorn and watching movies more than they will cherish having a perfectly clean house.

So I guess living with aliens isn’t so bad, especially when my space invaders come with morning hugs and goodnight kisses that melt the heart of any neat-nick that lurks within.

You can reach at www.trishberg.com.

Posted by Trish Berg 2:21 PM 0 comments  

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