Advice to Teenage Girls, Part 1

This weekend I gave a talk at a Youth Rally to several hundred high school aged girls. We talked about self-image and the amazingness of being a woman, and just to add to it, I did a little crowd sourcing in preparation and asked my friends (men and women alike) for a little advice to teenage girls (or to themselves as a teenage girl). I received so many beautiful, brilliant, wise, insightful responses that I wanted to bundle them in one place. So with no further adieu...

Advice to Teenage Girls From Women Who Have Been There

Don't take yourself too seriously. Life is meant to be enjoyed. Don't waste your time on boys that don't want to waste their time on you. And finally...don't change who you are or compromise your values for anyone. Ever.

~Katie (30-something)

Two pieces of advice to my teenage self (and all the teenage girls I work with)--playing small does not serve anyone, especially women. Also, you will probably regret trying to be popular, but you will never regret being kind, even if it hurts you. True kindness, yours and others, will be what you remember best about these years.

~Cat (30-something)

"You can do hard things." This applies to every aspect of life: education, relationships, romance (abstinence)...integrity requires work.

~Rachel (30-something)

No matter how you feel in high school, most people don't marry their high school boyfriend. So even though he says he loves you and always will...wait anyway.

~Karalee (20-something)

Trust the people who raised you, because they know more than you think they do.

~Janna (30-something)

Don't underestimate yourself and your abilities. You are MUCH stronger than you think you are--physically and mentally. The world is wide open to you if you are courageous enough to take it on.

~Carissa (30-something)

Advice I would give? Don't care so much about what other girls think. Care about what you think. And remember that your thoughts are just as important as anyone else's, be they girl or boy.

~Ann (20-something)

Dignity and repect isn't something you need to earn. It is a gift you were given when God called you to be.

~Renee (30-something)

Embrace your own and others differences. Don't be a bully.

~Molly (40-something)

If it feels wrong it usually is. Trust your gut womanly instincts.

~Carly (early 30s)

If you are sneaking around, it is wrong without a doubt.

~Renee (30-something)

My daughter is 2 1/2, aside from my biggest desire for her to have a relationship with the Lord, I want her to be smart, capable, and indpendent. Yes, I embrace my role as a mother and a wife, but refuse to be locked in the kitchen and laundry room. Learn how to fix, build, and get dirty. And be nice.

~Andrea (30-something)

Don't rush, you have your whole life ahead of you. Live one day at a time while that's still possible.

~Lexi (early 20s)

You can do anything. Your dreams can come true, but it takes faith and hard work to see them through. Believe in yourself.

~Monica (late 20s)

High school is not as big a deal as it seems when you're in it. Life goes on after high school, and whether you were popular or not popular, whether you were an outcast or part of the in crowd, no matter what, life goes on and high school will fade into the distance. What you are now doesn't determine what your life will be like in the future. The girls you envied won't necessarily have it any easier when you're a grown up.

~April (early 30s)

And one famous one:

In bathrooms, boardrooms, buses, bagel shops, and everywhere else, we all need to imagine a little girl following us around, repeating everything we say and everythign we do. Think about all the things you want for yourself and your daughters, granddaughers, and girls everywhere--and teach them by living it yourself.

~Nell Merlino,

in "Stepping Out of Line: Lessons for Women Who Want It Their Way In Life, In Love, And At Work"

Counting Crows...a few Months Late.

Since I was having a hard time posting, I missed out on posting a lot of fun photos from this fall. I just came across this one--Amy, Sterling, and I went to see Counting Crows at this gorgeous winery in the Columbia River Gorge, and it was SOOOOO much fun! The first half of the evening was totally gorgeous--beautiful stars, clear skies, just a little windy. Then the clouds rolled in, the rains came, and it was suddenly a whole different situation, but still really fun. I'm so lucky to live close to my sister and brother-in-law, and even more blessed that we get along really well and love hanging out and doing things together. They are the BEST! :) Thanks for inviting me along, guys!

Grandpa's Funeral (or Jen Remembers How to Play the Guitar)

Because a few people have asked me, I wanted to tell you a little bit about the funeral. When my Grandpa passed away, my mom called my sister and me early in the morning to give us the news. We made plans with each other that morning to leave the next day, and raced to work to make arrangements to be able to leave.

About five years ago, a bunch of us were sitting around in my grandparents' living room after some big family event--a reunion or a wedding or something, I'm sure. There were guitars and banjoes and lots of singing and music going on--I know, seriously, my family is that stereotypical Montana scene, with the folk music rocking and everyone singing along. Hilarious. My Grandpa had reached the end of his traveling days, so the only way we were able to see him was when we went to Great Falls, and that day he was loving having this going on in his living room. He told us he was going to live until he was 90, and then he wanted to go to heaven, and he started talking about his funeral. My mom's cousins, Mike and Midi, would play a song, and he would say, "I want that song at my funeral." What? We all kind of laughed it off, but he told me that day he wanted me to sing at his funeral, and he was serious.

So when we knew for certain that his time was coming (a few years short of that 90 mark, Grandpa!), my mom and I talked it over and I reminded her that he had asked me to sing. I wanted to honor that promise, so she talked it over with my Grandma, and they agreed to let me handle the music. When he passed away, I told my sister that I was doing the music and asked her if she would sing with me, hoping she'd agree to it, which she readily did. I started going through books trying to decide for sure what would be the best to honor him at his service.

Thankfully, after discussing song choices with my Grandma, she agreed to just trust my judgment and let me do whatever I wanted to do, as long as the pastor approved. After meeting with him, he quickly realized I knew what I was doing and told me I could do whatever I wanted. My Grandma did ask that we invite our cousin Stephanie to sing with us if she wanted to be involved. Steph ended up singing a couple of the songs with us (she got there a few days after we did, which meant we didn't have time to teach her all the songs, so she just picked the ones she already knew and learned the one song none of us knew while we were learning it, too).

My friend, Dave, had recently moved to Great Falls, and since he's a fantastic guitar player, he agreed to play or us (so as to avoid the 173 year old organ players we feared might have to accompany us otherwise). We picked out most of the music...then found out Dave would have to be out of town the day of the funeral and he couldn't play for us after all. Onto Plan B...JEN PLAYS. Wait...WHAT?

Since neither Amy nor I had brought our guitars with us, Dave lent me one of his GORGEOUS Taylor guitars, and Amy and I got to work figuring out ways I could play the songs. I can get by, but a fabulous guitar player I am not, especially when I have SEVEN songs to try to figure out with about 3 days notice. We spent a whole day hammering out the songs. We decided to sing two of them a cappella (which worked out just fine), but that still left me with FIVE songs to learn in about 3 days. After several hours of playing, crossing out chords, scribbling new ones in, making sure what we were doing worked, etc., we had all but one of them figured out.

There was just one song left that I was really struggling to play--the chords were complicated, I had blisters on every finger, and it just didn't sound right. Midi and Mike (my mom's cousin and her husband) had agreed to play some old folk hymns before the funeral while people were coming in, and since the song I couldn't play was the first song, we asked Mike if he could help us. He didn't know the song, but Mike is an incredible musician, so in short notice he had an amazing rendition of our first song worked out, and he agreed to play it with us.

Amy and I called our old high school choir director the day before the funeral to ask him a quick question, and Mr. Hansen gave us this advice: "Don't look at the family, don't look at the people. Look above them, or look at your music. And if you start to waver, SING OUT. More volume, even if it doesn't call for it." I took that man's advice as a teenager, and you'd better believe I took it that weekend. And somehow, blessedly, we got through it.

The only song I struggled with was an ancient chant I sang, by myself, a cappella. The first few notes were a little shaky, but once the people joined in, I was fine. I made the mistake of looking at my Grandma once or twice, but then I remembered Papa Hansen's words, and I got through it. My guitar playing wasn't perfect, but it worked. The songs were pretty, and our family was happy that we were the ones saying goodbye to our Grandpa in that way. A few of my cousins hugged me fiercely at the end and thanked me, and that made it all worth every minute of stress and anxiousness I felt about it. I wanted it to be perfect, to pay tribute to a man we all loved very much.

The funeral was beautiful. My sister and I helped our Grandma pick out the Bible readings, and they were perfect. The songs were beautiful and appropriate and fitting, and I think my Grandpa would have been happy--and we made it through without crying. All three of my Grandpa's sons-in-law (including my dad), along with three of his four grandsons, were the pallbearers. It was so touching to see my sweet, strong, handsome cousins all dressed up in suits and ties, paying tribute to our grandfather. I think their part was much more difficult than mine, especially carrying his casket to the gravesite. Don't worry, for every tear I didn't shed during the funeral, I shed at least three at the burial. It was a cold, windy day, but the sun was shining and it was beautiful (and thankfully, an excellent excuse to wear my sunglasses). At the end, my dad, uncles, and cousins removed their boutonnieres and placed them on the casket and we said goodbye.

Overall, it was beautiful, and my family is amazing. I am very blessed to be apart of this incredible, loving family--my Grandpa's beautiful legacy.

*Several people have asked, so here is a list of the songs we did. You can click on each song to go to a youtube video with a version of the song:

How Can I Keep From Singing (an old Quaker hymn)

Shepherd Me, O God (a variation of the 23rd Psalm)

The Summons (traditional Scottish hymn)

In This Place

Agnus Dei (a simple chant version) and Song of Farewell (the version by Grayson Warren Brown) are the two we sang a cappella, and I couldn't find youtube videos for either of them.

Fly Like a Bird (This isn't my favorite version of this song, but I LOVE this song--the guy who wrote it is the music leader at my church and he is amazing.)

Grandma and her Famous Cinnamon Rolls

The last post was about my Grandpa, but I just have to say, through all of this, my Grandma has been a rock star. It has been incredibly difficult, and there have been many moments of frustration, but she's coping with everything remarkably well.

And when I was up there, we made cinnamon rolls. If you know my Grandma, no one makes cinnamon rolls like she does. It was always a tradition whenever they'd come visit--no matter what else happened, one day Amy and I would get home from school and the counters were FULL of cinnamon rolls (usually waiting for us to frost them, which was our favorite part).

My Grandma Mary is the sweetest, most faithful, beautiful woman I could be blessed to have as a Grandma. I love her like crazy, and we have an awesome relationship. And a few weeks ago, when I was having a rough day, I was cleaning out my freezer and guess what I found--a package of Grandma's cinnamon rolls from my summer visit. Suddenly the day was a lot better. :) Sometimes love tastes a lot like cinnamon rolls. Thanks, Grandma. I love you, too. :)

Remembering Grandpa Harold

I've been putting off posting because I realized my next post needed to be about my grandfather, and I just couldn't bring myself to do it. But nevertheless, here we are, so let me tell you about one of the greatest men I've ever known.

My Grandpa, Harold Eugene Hasenkrug, was a grandfather, father, friend, uncle, brother, husband, police officer, carpenter, hunter, fisherman...so many things. But most importantly, he was a generous, kind, sweet man. He didn't put up with any crap--being disrespectful to your mother or your grandmother was the quickest way to get him riled up--but he was always a wonderful example of an old-fashioned gentleman, even until the end.

Probably close to ten years ago, Grandpa started getting pretty forgetful. Gradually we noticed that it was more than just the forgetfulness that comes with age, and it soon became clear that it was the dreaded Alzheimers (or something like it). He started having a hard time coming up with words in conversation. We all do that from time to time, but it started becoming more and more frequent, to the point that you had to be ready to supply the right word. Yep, you had to be adept at mind reading to be able to get through a conversation with him. And it was frustrating to him, but he was still pretty sweet. It got harder, as Alzheimers does, and eventually last summer the difficult decision was made that it was in everyone's best interest for him to move into a Memory Care Facility.

My mom has been back and forth between Utah and Montana six times since I had my surgery in May. It was a long, crazy summer and fall. She told us he was going downhill, and suggested we try to to make a trip out to see him. In mid-July, Amy took a whirlwind weekend trip and drove over for a few days. I wasn't able to join her, but we talked frequently while she was there. She told me his decline was much more dramatic than any of us had realized, and it came as quite a shock to her. Then she told me I really needed to go.

Right before Labor Day, my mom was up there again, and she called one night and told me if I was going to go, I needed to do it soon. These comments were becoming more and more urgent, so I thought it over and made the very spontaneous decision to head up to Montana over Labor Day weekend. (I literally decided to go around midnight, got up early to pack, stopped by work at 7 AM the next day and explained the situation, then Allee and I hit the road.) I didn't tell anyone I was coming, I just went.

When I got to Great Falls, my Grandma was home, but my mom was up visiting my Grandpa. Grandma was totally surprised and excited to see me, and I immediately felt a lot of confirmation in my decision to go. It was wonderful to spend time with my mom and Grandma, but the best part was spending time with my sweet Grandpa.

I'm not going to lie, I was nervous about seeing him. My sister had made a quick trip in July to spend some time with them, and she had thoroughly prepped me for what I would find. She said it was much worse than she had expected, which was really hard on her. I knew he might not recognize me--in fact, he probably wouldn't. I didn't know how I would feel about my Grandpa not knowing me. I didn't know how frail he would be, or how much he had declined. My sister had advised me that the best thing to do was to flirt shamelessly with him. Armed with that information, my mom and I went up to see him.

He was sitting at the table in the dining room when we got up to his floor. He was skinnier--much skinnier--than I remembered, and more frail. For the first time, my Grandpa looked like an old man. And the truth is, he didn't know who I was. He asked my mom several times, and I don't think it ever really connected. But it didn't matter. I had a cute baby puppy with me (my Mom/Grandma's puppy), I was a sweet, young, blond girl (he remembered he had blond girls in his life he loved), and I took Amy's advice and flirted more than I've ever flirted in my life. And it worked. He was funny, and silly, and even if he didn't know why he was supposed to, he loved me. We had dessert with him and my mom convinced him to show me his room--as soon as we got there, he got out his comb and combed his hair for me. :) It was very sweet. He's had trouble speaking clearly for quite awhile, and sometimes it was very difficult to understand him. You can imagine my surprise, then, when we were leaving and I said, "Grandpa, can I come back and visit you again tomorrow?" and clear as a bell, with a smirk he replied, "I don't know, CAN you?" We got a good, long laugh over my silly Grandpa, Alzheimers and all, correcting my grammar. I made a face and said, "Okay, okay, MAY I come back and see you again tomorrow?" He just chuckled and said, "Yes, you may." :) What a joker.

Giving me a hard time until the very end... :)

The next afternoon I had another nice visit with him, this time my Grandma and my mom came up with me. He tired easily and visits couldn't be too long, but he was in a good mood and we had a nice time. My mom got him talking about when he first met my Grandma (he could still remember that time period--in fact, one time, for a few moments, he was telling me a story and I suddenly realized he thought I WAS my Grandma, fifty years ago, which was a strange experience), their first date, and some of the things they did together when they were young. It was interesting to see how much more clearly he could speak when he was reminiscing about things from long ago.

The next day my aunt and uncle got to town for a visit, and that night my aunt and I went up to see him. It was a rough visit, and I understood much more clearly after that experience exactly how bad things had gotten and how hard it was on him. Even though it was difficult on all of us, part of me was grateful I was able to get a glimpse of that part of his life. Seeing that first-hand made it a little easier to let him go, knowing my strong, independent grandfather would not want to be that way for very long. That was supposed to be my last visit with him, and I was pretty sad when I left.

I had to leave the next morning for the 12-hour trek back to Portland. I didn't want to leave too late, since I had to work the next day--the first day of school--but I couldn't bring myself to have my last visit with him be a rough one. I got up early and asked my mom if she would come up with me for one last visit, and she agreed. I prayed the whole way there that this last visit would be a positive one. At my request, we stopped by the convenience store to buy him a Pepsi and some Cheetos--staples he ate at lunch every day when I was a kid. He was sleepy when we got there, but in good spirits, and we had a really great visit. He made jokes with us and we laughed and laughed. He could not get enough of the blond girl flirting with him, and he was VERY excited about the Pepsi. I unscrewed the cap and gave it to him, and he closed his eyes and took a long drink. When he opened his eyes again, I said, "Is that good, Grandpa?" He smiled and said, "Yeah. REAL good." It was a perfect last visit with my sweet Grandpa. Knowing it was probably the last time I would see him, I hugged him and kissed him and said, "I'm sorry I have to go, and I probably won't see you again for awhile, but I love you very much, Grandpa." And he looked at me, maybe with a glimmer of recognition, smiled, and said, "I love you, too."

He passed away on November 28th, early in the morning, after my Mom cleaned him up and shaved him and got him ready to go. He was an amazing man, and I am so blessed to have had 30 years with him on this earth.

This one's blurry, but I LOVE it.

I love you, Grandpa.

Thank you for being the best grandpa a girl could ask for, and for being mine.

I miss you, and I always will.

Until we meet again...

Need Prayers?

Need prayers for anyone or anything? I've decided to pray specifically and intentionally for a different intention every day from now until Easter, and I would love to add you to my list if there's something or someone you know who could use some extra prayers in the next few weeks. I want these prayers to have nothing to do with me, so I'm asking friends and family for your prayer intentions so I can pray along with you. It doesn't make any difference to me if you're Catholic or even religious at all, so anyone is welcome to send prayer requests my way. Please leave me a comment or shoot me an email or a message on facebook if I can add you/them to my list. I'm keeping a list in a note on facebook, so if you want your request to be confidential, send me a private message and I'll just put your initials. :) I still have slots left, but they're filling up fast. :) If there's a specific day you want prayer, check my facebook note or let me know and I'll try to get you that day or one close to it. :) Thanks, friends!

Draggin' My Feet...

Two months. It's been two months since I've written on this blog. I've tried to write a post a whole bunch of times, but I can't bring myself to finish it. It's the post about my sweet Grandpa who passed away right after Thanksgiving. There's been A LOT going on since then, but I can't bring myself to write about any of it until I finish the post about him. I'll keep trying. Soon.