Remember the names

Various drafts of this blog have been rolling around in my mind since Friday afternoon when I began to hear the devastating news of the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School. How to express in words a response to such a deeply dark and painful day? Should I even attempt to do so?My first response was to shed tears of great sorrow. I wept as I heard the news and later listened to President Obama speak from his father’s heart on this matter. In my mind’s eye and as news rolled out, I saw the beloved teachers, school counselor and principal’s faces at our daughters’ elementary school. Our 3^rd and 4^th grade girls are past the days of running and jumping into mom’s arms at the bus stop, but I could not restrain myself from meeting them at the bottom of the bus stairs and giving them a deep, heartfelt hug. I knew that difficult conversations were in our near future about this event. In time, they each separately made the connection to this event and the lockdown drills at their own schools. How did we get here? After a period of great sadness, my emotions would then cycle around to an overwhelming anger – toward powerful gun lobbies, the unnamed gunman, media circuses, mental health care failures and the violent screens that our children are filling their minds with daily. My emotions were up and down and all around. When the sadness got too heavy, I’d focus back on the anger. Anger is a simpler, easier place to dwell for a time. As a long time assault weapon ban supporter, I was all ready to blast out a blog on this topic on Saturday morning.

But as I went about life, waited and prayed, I heard a different voice and my heart was pricked to consider a different first public response. I had a text exchange with a young and wise friend, read an amazing blog called Vigil, and my heart began to crack open a bit. In my Sunday school class, a friend said in a broken voice, “remember the names”. I held onto that and as I was going through the newspaper last night, I cut out the names of 26 victims and tucked them away in my Bible.

This morning was spent at Better Together, an amazing cross section of women who come together for a time of silence, listening and seeking God’s face. It was difficult to keep my mind on the lesson. During our brief small group sharing time, I expressed my distraction and confusion. I mentioned the list in my Bible and a desire to focus on just one name each day. As we wrapped up, one of the other beautiful women said, “can you read the names out loud?”. I did so in the midst of brokenness and tears. There is something utterly crushing about seeing the ages of 6 and 7 listed after so many of the names. I added the names of the shooter and of his mom. Much anger is directed at them, but I am certain that for a 20 year old to take those actions, there is a very evil, dark and painful backstory. There was power in speaking those names, holding out hands to God and acknowledging that this is too big for us.

In church yesterday, our minister addressed this massacre and reminded us that comfort is not demonstrated in mere words but also comes with action. For me, that time will be soon. But I think that until I was able to remember the names and release them and their families to God, all action would have been fueled primarily by anger rather than by courage and love.

Soon after September 11, 2001, our then 11 year old son drew a beautiful picture. It was a portrait of God with eyes looking down on us. There was one tear that rolled down the face of God. There are no quick and easy explanations or answers for such complex tragedies in our midst. Witnessing such suffering initially calls me to experience a wrecked heart and a quiet awe for such tremendous pain. I, like my son, imagine that God looks upon us and tears flow. Soon, for me, it will be time to add action to these words and tears.

Anticipation

The Wikipedia definition of advent begins like this: a time of expectant waiting and preparation for the celebration of the nativity of Jesus at Christmas. My childhood tradition did not emphasize this period of time. I just remember that the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas seemed to go in slow motion and take forever – oh, how things have changed!

On Sunday mornings, my husband and I join together with fellow seekers and believers to discuss matters of faith. This past Sunday, the focus word was “anticipation”. The question asked was when had we anticipated something in life and what was that like? Tales of babies coming, holidays and special trips were shared. My mind immediately settled on this past Thanksgiving.

Two of our grown sons were journeying a far distance toward our home. The four of us living in this house were also packing up and traveling to a beautiful mountain destination. Guests were joining us. One of our daughters had recently made some major diet changes. Our Thanksgiving traditions involve a lot of food and fun. Turkey bowl football game, three mainstay casserole dishes, pies and making sure there are enough leftovers for at least a day or two are family culture. I was genuinely excited and in a state of anticipation around this time together.

I expressed on Sunday morning that anticipation during that time looked something like this. Aside from the emotional bounce, there was much advance planning and preparation. Because we all desired to enjoy down time and space to talk, play games and interact, much of the food preparation was collaborative or done well in advance. The duties of shopping, cooking, cleaning and tending to everyday needs were divided up and shared amongst all of us. No one person was responsible for all – we shared life together. All of the preparation and planning gifted a great benefit. It created space to relax, exercise and truly enjoy many moments all together. Time expanded and room was made for various combinations to experience laughter, conversation and common interests.

The carryover into advent is profound. Saying no to some of the myriad of holiday opportunities creates space and calm in a season that can be so full of busyness and hype. Taking time to be mindful and thoughtful about gifts reduces the impulse buying temptation. Simplifying in the area of decoration invites us to savor the beauty. Dividing up tasks that we deem important allows us to share the load. Less truly is more. All of this makes room for our family to focus on and anticipate the birth of a baby king. I wish you peace and joy during advent as we prepare and wait expectantly.

Mistake matters

The theme of mistakes and missteps as opportunities to grow and learn as a person and to teach and guide as a parent has come before me several times in recent days. When a common theme pops up on the road of life, I am learning that it is wise to slow down, take it in and listen to the whispers of God.

I am part of Better Together, a group of women that meets once a month for 3 plus hours. Our focus is on listening to God. Truth is I don’t regularly make a lot of room for that, and this sacred time has become an authentic oasis and retreat in the midst of the routine and busyness of life. Much of the morning is spent in silence – meditation, journaling, listening for God’s voice. There is a short devotional time and it was during this time that I was recently reminded that mistakes are opportunities for change, errors are educational and that in the midst of such times we are on holy and fertile ground. When I truly look at my own life, in hindsight, I know this to be true. Yet often mistakes and errors have evoked shame, been something to try and bury or hide, rationalize away or deflect onto someone else. Forgiving myself is sometimes a daunting challenge.

In the arena of parenting, times of misbehavior are also occasions for growth and change. I came into the parent world with a mentality that my role was to do all I could to minimize the missteps and fallings of my children. Too much of my own ego was wrapped up in their behavior and performance. Yesterday, thanks to Becky Bailey and her Conscious Discipline work, I was reminded that errors and mistakes are incredible opportunities to teach and guide our children. Honestly, that’s not typically my initial emotional reaction at such a time, but it is a mindset I desire to cultivate and increase. In response to the blunders of our children, some of us parents reach for the heavy-handed punitive style that teaches a child to feel shame or guilt, and some of us lean toward the permissive style that tries to rescue and save our children from feeling and facing the discomfort of their situation. And some of us do a great punitive/permissive combo. In reality, these times are ripe for growth and teaching if we can respond with empathy and wisdom.

I am learning that if I can be honest about and forgiving of my own errors and shortcomings, then I am in a much healthier space to offer the same to my children. Then times of mess ups and mistakes take on new meaning. One of the very first things I learned at Better Together was a meditation prayer mantra – breathe in and say “grace received”, breathe out and say “grace released”. This prayer has become a constant companion. With grace received I deeply embrace God’s forgiveness and grace and with grace released, I am offering that back to others. It is a profoundly satisfying place to live.

The vote

The recent campaign season often left me shaking my head. Attack ads, billions of dollars spent, robo calls ad nauseum and a polarized country invoke deep and varied emotions within. Approaching such a complex and sometimes mean spirited situation with children is often a challenge. Yet this year I am grateful that it turned into quite a learning experience for both adults and children in our family.

This election season has been a time of engaging dinner conversation and offered a favorable circumstance to teach our daughters about a few of the important things in life. We have spent much time around the table discussing each candidate’s views on multiple issues, the complexity of prioritizing and making decisions in any election and helped them understand that though mom and dad love each other very much and often agree in the political realm, occasionally we vote differently. We have talked about presidents, governors and local officials and how each impacts the various circles in which we live. We have each had our turn in mock debates to be both President Obama and Governor Romney and been forced to carefully answer tough and insightful questions from our own 8 year old debate moderator – watch out Jim Lehrer!

And beyond the focus on this particular election, it has been a chance to talk about the differences between democracy and other forms of government around the world. Why we would ever choose to vote for a candidate even though we were fairly certain that they would lose their race led to great discussion on the value of standing by principles rather than just wanting to win. We have batted around the ideas that though learning about candidates and positions can seem boring, it truly impacts the everyday lives of those who reside in the US and sometimes beyond.

I often consider myself an ambivalent patriot. On the one hand, I acknowledge that the freedoms that I enjoy and take for granted are truly exceptional. Freedom of speech, religion and the list goes on are things that I hold dear. I know that people have given their very lives to protect this democratic government that I live under. There is much to be grateful for as a citizen of this country

On the other hand, we as a country have sometimes abused our power and status on this planet. We have at times been a bully and done things on the national and world scene that oppress and damage individuals and other countries. There are just and reasonable explanations why factions of the world dislike the USA.

But the joy and excitement of our 8 year old as she got to help me vote almost brought me to tears. She was so very proud. She couldn’t wait to get to school this morning to see who had won the election in her classroom. To live in a country that now allows a vote for each citizen no matter race, religion or gender is a gift and hard fought victory.

The concession speech of the defeated is often conciliatory and there are gracious words offered by the one who wins. The peaceful exchange of power during a presidential inauguration is something that touches me deeply. So my hope and prayer on this day is that the desire to mend this country and begin to approach consensus, reach across the aisle and compromise is more than election night rhetoric – for the sake of all of the children in our care.

The mystery of the miracle

I’ve walked through life long enough to observe and experience that God does indeed do miracles on this earth. But the why, how and whens of such supernatural events are a complete mystery. Seems to me, it is dangerous and detrimental on so many layers to believe that if we believe and pray in just the right way, with just the right posture and get just the right people to join in, we can be assured of the miracle we so desire.

In recent years, I have observed people of great faith lose children and other beloved friends and family to accident and disease. People I love suffer from chronic pain and have done so for many years. I have also witnessed events of great and unexpected healing in the lives of others. It is a rare event, yet it does undeniably happen against the predictions of science, medical and human reason. My heart mourns with those who have experienced great pain and loss and rejoices with those who have experienced extraordinary healing and mercy. Yet I find it is a place of confusion, doubt and delicate balance to begin to come to terms with in my heart, soul and mind. I have always been a person of “why?”, and this particular matter leads to great unsettling doubts within.

When there is a big miracle in the midst of a community, I wonder how those who didn’t get one in their desperate pleas and prayers process this. Are they angry and resentful? Are they able to rejoice with those who rejoice, or is it just too painful at times? Do they have a safe place to express their deepest doubts and questions? Making peace with a God who can intervene, but doesn’t, is tough work. And for those I know who have received their heart’s desire – their prayer for a miracle became a reality – what does that feel like? Though there is much gratitude and joy, is it uncomfortable in any way – something akin to survivor’s guilt? God is sufficient to receive and walk with us through any and all doubts, questions and emotions. Sometimes honoring and admitting such deep questions is challenging and we can feel or be made to feel like a traitor. Such doubts are often not well received in our communities of faith and sometimes simmer just below the surface.

These are big questions and there are not trite and easy answers. One thing that I have observed is that those who come through a devastating loss with faith in tact also demonstrate the miraculous, often in most profound ways. I take great comfort in the real life stories of those whose heart’s desire met a resounding “no” and yet they still trust God and experience joy. In Isaiah, God states, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts neither are your ways my ways”. Humbling and for a sometimes rebel like me, not too satisfying at times. Yet I have to submit that all that I live, experience and observe in life points to the truth of this. It is a challenge yet I desire to become more at peace with the mystery of God’s action and sometimes seeming inaction in this world. I imagine that embracing the mystery of faith and doubt and all that is God will be happening until the day that I depart this life.

If I were a foster child….

A few months back, I read an article in our local newspaper that caused me to pause and ask a lot of questions.  Its’ message has been haphazardly rolling around in my heart and mind ever since.  The article described the work and mission of an area group called “Mercy for America’s Children”, MAC.  The article, in full here, states “one of the nonprofit’s focuses is to hold match events to help prospective families spend time with children who need homes”.  These children are older foster children.  Kids who have experienced neglect or abuse, often been moved from place to place and have lived through traumatic and painful experiences.  They are vulnerable.

As I read about the match events involving activities such as water skiing and martial arts where prospective adoptive parents come and hang out with the kids as they consider adoption, I tried to put myself in the place of a child in the midst of such an event.  Would it generate a hope deep in my heart that I might be chosen on this day or some other?  Would I figure out what this event was all about and turn on all my charm?  Would I be angry and resentful thinking that others would be chosen over me?  Would I have had so many hopes dashed before that I would be afraid to hope?  Maybe it would just seem like a fun day doing something different.  In my mind I flashed back to the day when our family visited the orphanage where one of our daughters spent almost 2 years. As we looked into the faces of older children still there I wondered what was this visit doing to their vulnerable hearts and dreams?

Another quote from the article, from a mom who had herself adopted older foster children, said this:, “You hear so many myths and misconceptions about kids in foster care, but they are just kids that need love.”  As an adoptive parent, I know that this is a tremendous oversimplification.  To sugar coat and deny the very real pain and needs that a foster child may have does a disservice to both the prospective parents and the children themselves.  As with all children, there are complex needs and responsibilities in raising them.  For a child with known trauma, the “all they need is love” approach just won’t hold up.  The journey most likely will require a great deal of resources and flexibility to meet whatever needs and challenges arise. To check my thoughts, I asked a very gentle and compassionate friend who was in the midst of fostering older children to read the article and give me her thoughts – her response was, “it just can’t be that simple”.

So, on one hand, I am glad there are groups like MAC who are committed to helping older foster children to find permanent homes – they deserve no less.  With 30,000 aging out of foster care each year without a family, it is a national crisis. Yet I also hope that the adults involved are considering the perspective of the child and their dignity as they go about such sacred work.  This particular article seems too simplistic- more of a “test driving a car” mentality than the very serious lifetime commitment to a hurting child.  Children’s very lives and souls are at stake.  I hope that we as the grown ups are mindful of the impact of our actions on vulnerable children.  If you have any thoughts, experiences or perspective on this subject, I would love to hear from you.  Healthy dialogue is a step in the pursuit of doing what is best for vulnerable children in our midst.

Things I learned in court

I recently received an oft-dreaded piece of mail – it required I report to the courthouse do my civic duty, aka jury duty. As I arrived, my thoughts were filled with, “how can I get out of this”, “this is quite inconvenient” and “surely there is a better way to do this check-in than a snaking single file line all through the waiting area”. About 37 people were called in the first group, and Patricia Wilson was among those named.

Yet, as I sat in the courtroom waiting to see if I would be questioned and deemed appropriate to serve by the judge, prosecution and defense, my attitude shifted. This was a fascinating process and there was much to learn from being a part of the justice system. I did end up on this jury – a DWI 2^nd degree murder trial – and here are a few of the things I learned:

1. Though there are legitimate reasons that a certain person should not serve on a certain case, inconvenience is not compelling. We all have to accommodate in order for this form of justice to work. It truly is a privilege and obligation to participate.
2. The bailiff must have an incredibly difficult task in not falling asleep. Smart phones help.
3. Being a jury member is a sobering and important task. Sending a person to jail is not to be taken lightly.
4. There is a good reason why one should not google names and case info while on a jury. The media portrays a very different story than what is often deemed valid to be presented in the courtroom. I googled only after our verdict was reached – the stories didn’t match too well.
5. Prosecutors and police are good buddies – as one fellow juror said to me, “they acted like they have drinks together on the weekends”. Defense attorneys and law enforcement; not so much.
6. Presumption of innocence and the burden of proof help to keep innocent people out of jail. I am sure that some guilty people walk as well.
7. It is a gift to be able to take lunch breaks outside on a beautiful day while serving on a jury – a courtroom can get dark and dreary.
8. Having the heart of a child makes for great jurors. When explaining the process of justice to our girls and expressing how hard it was to truly know if someone is telling the truth or not, I received this advice. “Mom, God knows the truth. How about this idea – everyday as you start, ask God to help you.” And “Like last week when I ___________(something that needed to be made right with another). God will let you know it isn’t right in your heart”.
9. I now understand there are occasions when it is appropriate for a defendant to remain silent. I used to have a great bias against such. Life and human beings are highly complex.
10. All jurors must have the chance to speak when deliberating. Many ways of seeing things is helpful and all voices need to be heard.

Though I sometimes come at much of life from an emotional perspective, serving on a jury brought out my rational side. Though judgment and discernment are involved, there is a clear task to apply the law to the presented case. At the end of the day on this case, the evidence was not convincing, there was no obvious innocence or guilt, the witnesses were not credible, who was driving the car could not be proven and 12 people agreed that not guilty was the verdict. It was a joyous day for the defendant and a difficult day for the surviving victim and families. The courtroom is a place of growth and learning – next time I will have a different attitude when that summons shows up in my mailbox.

A code red week

It was the dinner hour one day last week in the Wilson home, and our 8 year old daughter seemed particularly bouncy.  As we settled in, using the word settle loosely, it became apparent why she had a little extra energy running through her body.  She passionately began to share that during school that day, her class had participated in a “code red drill”.  My mind flashed back to early elementary school days when my school had fire drills and a couple of real live “bomb scare” evacuations of the school.  Unsettling.  Something about our precious 8 year old describing how all of the children in her class had to take cover in a place that would put them out of the line of sight (code word for fire) of anyone peering through the glass window of their classroom door made my heart sink.  Corners, under tables, all bunched together.  I could not fully let my mind’s eye go to a scene where this drill could become reality, though it doesn’t take a lot of imagination as I interact with the daily news.

As if their hearts needed to redirect after such sober matters, they moved onto lighter topics.  Suddenly we were discussing what would each of our daughters do if a boy wanted to marry them.  Their dad puffed out his chest a bit and said something to the effect of “bring them to me”.   This led into discussion of the different girl friends and boy friends dad and mom had in the past – lots of kissing questions ensued. And then our talk jumped back to what to do if someone wanted to marry one of them and they did not want to do so.  I suggested that if this happened, they should dial up a “code red” and 4 men over 6 feet tall would come running – one of the many gifts and advantages of having 3 grown, tall brothers and a daddy.

On Monday, I was responding to a summons to appear at our county courthouse for jury duty.  My name had been called and I was sitting in a courtroom with 36 of my peers waiting to see who would be called to serve.  In this setting, I lived my own “code red” moments.  A text came in to a mom seated next to me reporting that several area schools had been placed on lock down, my children’s school among them.  The far-fetched code red drill of dinner conversation seemed to be happening and I was truly grateful that they had practiced.  To add to the stress of the moment, the babysitter that I had arranged to pick up my girls after school texted to say that her high school was on lock down and she wasn’t sure she could pick up our girls.  You can’t just get up and walk out of jury duty – a contempt of court charge will likely follow.  My husband was not reachable.  Several deep breaths and a 15 minute break later, contingency plans had been made, friends filled in gaps, a vice principal explained that the girls’ school was taking precautions but the students were not on full code red procedures.  The lock down situation did resolve, our girls came home and reported at dinner they had another code red “drill”- thank you awesome school staff for protecting young hearts and minds- and all was ok in our little world.  On that day, I was not forced to explain that an ex-husband had shot his ex-wife in a nearby parking lot and been hunted for four hours until he was found dead, of suicide.   But I do pray for God’s grace and care on the three newly orphaned children and their family members who were left behind to deal with a big code red situation.  God have mercy.

 

Community vs herd living

I turned to my companion Wikipedia to help define a human herd. This is what I found: “Herd mentality implies a fear-based reaction to peer pressure which makes individuals act in order to avoid feeling “left behind” from the group. “ I don’t know about you, but I’ve lived in a herdish place on many occasions. We can be part of a herd that is defined by race, political bent, religion, school, civic group or even family. There is a feeling of protection from outside threats and a level of comfort and ease in such a place. Judgment and fear of “other” are commonly held values to keep everyone in check. There are definite rules in place – whether written down or not – and to remain a part, we must adhere to the common code. We don’t have to look very far during this political campaign season to see that the way of discussion and consensus are out and the way of the herd is dominant. Disturbing the status quo can lead to dismissal from the herd. This can happen overtly and directly or in more covert ways that lead a person to slowly drift away. Choosing to leave a herd can result in living in a very isolated and lonely place.

But there is another way – the way of community. To commune with others is a critical need within all of our human hearts. God created us to be in fellowship and communion with one another. We aren’t created to go it alone. Rather than a connection based on fear and being against, community is an invitation to join together for common purpose. There is joy and freedom, along with a lot of hard work, involved in being in community. Diverse thoughts and approaches are honored and worked through in a place of discussing and sharing life together. There is a vulnerability and willingness to look beyond the shallow and surface place of life and wrestle with and share profound thoughts and experiences. It can be an uncomfortable and raw place yet it is so worth the discomfort and effort required. It is a place where one can be authentically known and yet fully loved – a place we all long to be.

About 4 years ago, a mom realized that due to the challenges she was facing with her adopted child and the judgment felt from others, she was isolated and feeling very alone. She began reaching out to other adoptive moms and very quickly experienced that she was not in fact alone. A group called Amazing Families was born. I imagine that many a support group such as Alcoholics Anonymous, Al-anon, GriefShare, etc. had similar beginnings – a person in pain, feeling isolated, reaching out to connect with others on a similar path who can travel through life together. Sometimes sharing life for a season and sometimes for a lifetime. This community of amazing families has been a safe place to laugh, to cry, to learn, to encourage, to admit defeat and celebrate victories, and to be honest as we all journey to shift our parenting paradigm and do our best with our children. Due to our family demands, it is often challenging to meet face to face but sometimes a quick call out to the yahoo group is sufficient. People respond – in word, prayer and in deed. This past year a small group of moms got together to study Conscious Discipline by Becky Bailey. I missed this community over the summer and was a bit more adrift in my parenting on many a day. So, on this day, I join in with the apostle Paul in saying to all those who are a part of the many different parts and pieces of genuine community in my life – “I thank my God every time I remember you”. Thanks for showing me the way to true community.

Dear Pat Robertson…

I got my very first “blog request”. I feel so honored – this must be how a band feels when their song gets requested on the radio – do they even do that anymore? I may be showing my age….

The request was to blog a response to the most recent outlandish thing that Pat Robertson said. Now I must confess that I typically throw Mr. Robertson in the same pile as Rush Limbaugh – someone to shake my head at, get riled up over for a few minutes and then decide this really isn’t worth the energy.

But this time Pat Robertson spoke in “mama bear territory”. In case you missed it, here are some highlights of what he said: he was responding to a woman’s question about why men, when they found out she was the adoptive mom of 3 children from 3 different countries, were no longer interested in dating her. Mr. Robertson said things like, “a man doesn’t want to take on the United Nations”, it is a “blended family – what is it?”, you never know what you are going to get and referred to one particular child as “a brain damaged child who grew up to be weird.” I really can’t do this 1 minute 44 second piece justice – best if you see it for yourself at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HhyJpLIpRVA– it is pretty freaking atrocious.

So, here is a quick and off the top of my head and bottom of my heart response:

Dear Mr. Robertson,

I do not watch your show, yet in recent days, I see segments popping up on my facebook page, hear little snippets on the radio and this time I can’t ignore what you have said. Your words were prejudicial and hurtful to a group of people that I dearly love and highly insensitive and harmful to two that I intimately know and love – international adoptees.

Now, I’d be a big fat hypocrite if I said that adopted children don’t sometimes come with extra special needs and require a strong commitment to figure out new and best ways to parent – I write about that all the time! But the Jesus that I know and love did not call us to a comfortable, easy life but said that to see him we must look to “the least of these”. That could include those with brain damage, as you called it, those without a family and those living as a foreigner in a new land. I could go on and on quoting the Bible that you also claim to honor. God reigns in an upside down kind of kingdom. May I respectfully remind you that each and every one of these children that you very callously referred to are souls created by God, and they hold a very special place in his order – and God expects them to be elevated in our view as well. That topic is addressed over and over again in the scriptures.

God is in the adoption business. Romans says, “The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” I certainly am thankful that God didn’t look at me as brain damaged and weird and discount my worth as an adopted child.

Adopting my daughters was the best thing that ever happened to me. I was headed for a much more self consumed, comfort seeking lifestyle, but God intervened. He privileged me with being mom to two beautiful girls who have truly led to that “abundant life” that I heard so much about and now am beginning to understand. This abundant life has nothing to do with possessions and living comfortably – it has much to do with seeing people and life from God’s perspective and joining in to share life together with all kinds of people in all kinds of places.

I hope that the reason for your harmful and un-thoughtful words on more than one occasion in recent days has to do with an aging mental state rather than a hardened and spiteful heart. An apology to those that you greatly offended is in order. Please consider that it may be time to retire.

Sincerely,

Tricia, aka Mama bear

I am sure that I have many friends and blog readers who can add to this incomplete letter. Please feel free to do so in the comment area and I will add it to the letter before I stamp it and send it on to Mr. Robertson.