Amanda Lauer's Blog

Being on the verge of retirement has inspired me to purge and declutter. In that quest, I’ve gone through closets, shelves, drawers, my laptop inbox, saved files, photos, and, most recently, a stack of journals and diaries dating back to 1972.

The diaries have been a fun read, recalling the years from fourth grade through my senior year of high school. The jury is still out on whether I will keep them. For now, I’m highlighting entries about things, events, and people I haven’t thought of in years. The majority of the entries revolve around my time living in Antigo, Wisconsin, where I attended school from kindergarten through ninth grade.

My journals are more in-depth and span from April 1994, when I was 32, John and I had been married 12 years, and we had four children, ages 9, 7, 4, and 2, to April 2009, when I was 47, John and I had been married 27 years, and our children were ages 24, 22, 19, and 17.

I highlighted the entries that I thought John and the kids would be interested in reading, transcribed them into a document, and then disposed of the journals. I sent the document to the family to get their feedback. The kids especially enjoyed reading about events in their lives—some they clearly remembered, some they’d forgotten. Our three oldest children are parents themselves now, so it was interesting for them to read about my life as a mostly stay-at-home mom balancing parenting and running a household on a razor-thin budget.

Here are some thoughts that I recorded that stood out and offer lessons to me now, 30-plus years later.

I never got enough sleep. “Anybody reading this will get the impression that I am a night owl. Once again, it’s early in the morning (or late at night!) 1:15, and I’m wrapping up my projects for the day. I was thinking that I’m always saying that I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I don’t want people to think I’m not enjoying life’s journey, because I am. I chose the path I am taking, and I really do enjoy my life. I have been so blessed. I’m not sure why. My purpose in life is to give back to the world as much as I can as a way of saying thank you to God for all he has given me!”

Being a goal-oriented person, I spent way too much energy worrying about achieving the goals I’d set for myself. What may have served me better was to accept that everything has a season. When I was in the throes of raising our four children, my job was to keep them safe, fed, and somewhat entertained. I wish I had embraced the years I was a full-time mom more. True, money was tight, but it was our decision to have a larger family and for one of us to be home with the kids full-time. The money came in time.

There was too much fretting about keeping my house clean and orderly. “I guess it comes down to feeling organized, something that is important to me. I have so many things to do and keep track of. I really struggle to do it all.” At one point I remember telling John that we had four little kids and the house wasn’t going to be perfect, so that was that. But, guess what? As the kids got older, the house got tidier, and coincidentally, I became more punctual (another thing I fretted about). It all turns out in the end, as I’ve been known to say.

More on housekeeping. “I always think… ‘if only I could get the house completely clean, back to ground zero, I could maintain it.’ Unfortunately, I never have a complete day or weekend to do those things, and other things need more than just straightening up every day (dishes, bathrooms, dusting, laundry).”

Another recurring theme: “I’m beginning to think that I waste a lot of time feeling frustrated! I swear that I know what I should be doing, but so many times I can’t bring myself to do it.” Whether that was housekeeping, meal planning/preparation, or building our side gigs. One early fall day, I wrote that I didn’t work on our business at all over the summer. My conclusion now is that I would’ve been better served admitting at the beginning of that summer that I wasn’t going to work on the business, and saved myself the guilt.

There were days when I had my act together. “I actually completed the wash and put it all away in one day!” Some young moms may relate to that one.

Here’s an entry that has proven to be true: “It’s going to be so fun to read this in a few years. It will be interesting to remember all the challenges and life lessons I learn on my way to achieving my goals.”

Self-doubt reared its ugly head at times. “I feel, somewhat subconsciously, that I don’t deserve to be successful. Consequently, I have been putting up roadblocks in my life every time I’m close to achieving success. I realize that I have a pattern of not finishing things that I start.”

Parenting was a common theme. “I want to write down things going on in the kids’ lives. I want to look back and remember these fun, crazy days of parenting.” Here’s a poignant thought: “Most of my friends are the parents of our kids’ friends. I can see why moms feel blue when all their kids move out. You lose your whole circle of friends too.” I like this one: “I do feel like I’m a pretty good parent. I try to be balanced and enjoy my time with the kids. We have a lot of laughter in our house, which I think is wonderful.”

Finances were always a concern, but things turned around when I went back to work part-time when our youngest child started second grade. “Taking the job was definitely a good move for me. I feel good about contributing to the family income, and we are definitely less strapped for money. Someday I would like to talk or write about how we became debt-free.”

A couple of months in, I wrote this: “I can’t believe how difficult it is to work even three days a week. I don’t know how full-time, working moms do it. The two days I’m not working are spent cleaning, doing paperwork, and running errands. I have so many things I want to do around here, but have neither the time nor the energy to do them.”

One of my most humorous entries: “Amazingly enough, I’m actually not feeling frustrated or overwhelmed today like I usually am when I write. Just tired. I think I’ve been tired for the last 15 years. I don’t remember if I was tired before I had kids or not.”

There were definitely moments of profound gratitude. “I’m grateful for my busy, fun, crazy life. I’m glad we have four kids who do things that we enjoy watching. I feel very blessed.” And this one: I am so fortunate to have John as a husband. I look forward to spending more time with him as we have fewer commitments with the kids. I am so blessed. I cannot imagine how any other man could have helped me grow and become the person I am today the way John has. Thank you, God!!”

If I could go back and give my 30-something self some advice, it would be this. Live your life every day in an attitude of gratitude. I spent too much time and energy worrying about things, berating myself about not accomplishing my goals, looking for affirmation, and trying to cross off more things on my to-do list than any human being can do in one day. I would accept each season that I was in, and not always look forward to when we’d have more time, more money, or more success.

After the pep talk, I’d wrap that tired mama in my arms and reassure her, “It’s not easy, but you’re doing great.” Then I’d shoo her off to take a nap while I entertained the kids, started a load of wash, did the dishes, and got dinner in the oven.

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While he didn’t coin the phrase (that would be Henry Russell Sanders), Vince Lombardi is associated with the quote, “Winning isn’t everything; it’s the only thing.” That makes at least three things that I have in common with the legendary football coach — my love for my Catholic faith, my love for the Green Bay Packers, and my love of competition.

What can I say? I was born into a competitive family. My mom, my dad, my two older brothers, and I had that sense of competitiveness ingrained in us. While we all played sports back in the day, I credit my mom for really instilling that love of competing in me. I remember when I was young watching her play softball, volleyball, golf, and bowl — and she had the trophies to prove it.

As for me, I started with softball, and, through the years, competed in numerous other sports, including volleyball, gymnastics, soccer, and running. The funny thing is that you never knew when the last time would be that you’d be on a field, a course, or in a gym competing. For some reason or other, each sport’s season permanently ended, whether it was because of the stage of life I was in, my age, or injuries.

Next week, I will be celebrating my birthday. Not a milestone one, but one that my favorite band, The Beatles, immortalized. While I still have that urge to compete, the opportunities available to me are dwindling. This came to mind recently when I was doing our morning weight training with my husband. I realized that I have no intention of increasing the force or reps of any of the exercises I’m currently doing. At this stage, my goal is to maintain the intensity of each exercise for as long as I can.

That led me to think about the other things I’m still competing in, even if it’s only against myself. Thanks to one grandson in particular, who seems to share the family affinity for competitiveness, I’m working at getting better at darts, foosball, and ping pong. Those are his favorite things to play at our house, and I’ll be darned if I’ll let a 10-year-old beat me. Truth be told, he’s actually edging me out in darts — he’s a leftie and has a wicked throw. He’s getting better at foosball all the time, and once he masters the spin in ping pong, all bets are off. But, if I take the time to practice (that’s a big if), I should be able to hold my own for a while yet. By the time he’s 12, I would imagine he’ll be trouncing me, but I’ll take the victories I can still get between now and then.

There’s still a chance, now that we’re retired, that I can get better at golf and pickleball, but we don’t get out nearly as much as I’d like to (or need to, if I really want to up my game). Recently, we got a keyboard, so I’ve taken up piano again after a 50-year hiatus. It’s not like riding a bike; you don’t just pick up where you left off, but I can see improvement. Again, it takes time to get better at anything, so I’m not anticipating performing publicly soon—or ever.

If sports are out, is there still anything I can participate in that helps scratch that competitive itch? The one thing we’ve found recently is playing D.J. Trivia at a local tavern. John and I play on a team with family and friends on Thursdays when it works out for us. I’ve made a few distinctions over the past couple of years that we’ve been doing this. There are a lot of smart people who play trivia, almost anything that I know, there’s a good chance that at least one person on another team will know, and there are a lot of trivia categories that I know very little about (that’s where it helps having a team with diverse players in interests and ages). I decided that if I wanted to have any competitive edge in trivia, I needed to find a category to make my own that most people struggled with. I chose geography/world flags. It’s not that I shone in that area, but it was something I could work on studying and memorizing. This has proven to be beneficial in two ways. Occasionally, I’ll come up with an answer that no one else knows, so I feel like I’m contributing to the team, and memorizing is good exercise for the brain.

All those things aside, I can be the best at some things that I’m still in control of in my life. I am striving to be the best daughter of God, the best wife, the best mother, the best mother-in-law, the best daughter, the best aunt, the best Godmother, the best grandmother, the best neighbor, and the best friend that I can be. In the end, those are really the categories that make the most difference anyhow. No matter how old I am or what shape I’m in, I can choose to do what it takes to be the best human being that I can be. And, if I do that, in the end, I’ll win the biggest game of all – the game of life!

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In April of 2023, I partook in a four-day silent retreat at the Jesuit Retreat House in Oshkosh. I had no idea of what to expect. Would I be able to stay silent that long without driving myself crazy listening to my own thoughts or the music that runs almost nonstop through my head? How would I spend all those empty, quiet hours? How do you connect with people when you can’t talk with them?

To fill what I thought would be countless free time, I brought along several books, and four legal pads to start sketching out the next four books in my writing queue.

It turns out that I didn’t even need one book. Even thought the retreat was silent for the participants, it was a preached retreat. The leader led eight 45-minute sessions over the course of the weekend, and after each session, we were encouraged to go off to our rooms or the spot of our choice on the campus to complete the accompanying worksheets.

The book outlines? Didn’t happen there, but the books were (or will be) written in due time.

Surprisingly, there wasn’t a lot of free time. I chose to participate in every opportunity afforded us, whether it was going to Mass, Confession, the healing service, praying a group rosary, participating in the Stations of the Cross, or having a 15-minute spiritual direction appointment with one of the priests or the sister on staff.

I spent as much time as I could outdoors (the late-April weather wasn’t exactly ideal). The retreat center sits along the shores of Lake Winnebago and the surroundings are not only peaceful, but beautiful too.

As far as connecting with the other women on the retreat? That actually did happen to some degree, particularly the women with whom I ate meals. On Thursday, we were able to talk from the time we got there, through dinner, and until the first session began, so we got to know each other somewhat then (note: I am related by marriage to two of the women who were at my table, so we already knew each other). Each evening after dinner, we had a set amount of time where would could converse in the library, so we got to meet and chat with more of the participants.

Not too surprising, it took me about 48 hours before my thoughts started to decelerate and I could really get into the spirit of the retreat. I enjoyed the presentations and partaking in the sacraments. (Note: most of my worksheets weren’t finally completed a few hours before the retreat ended on Sunday.)

All in all, it was a meaningful event for me. But to be truthful, I wasn’t sure if I would go on one again. But, when the 2026 signup came into my inbox, I was probably one of the first people who signed up. In 2025, I lost a dozen friends and family members, including my stepmom and my dad, so I felt drawn to attend a silent retreat again, and maybe do it better (if there is such a thing) this time around.

This April we were blessed with beautiful weather. I arrived early on Thursday so that I could spend time walking the grounds and swinging on one of the swings that overlook the lake. There is something about swinging that seems to center me, so it was the ideal way to start off the retreat. Over four days, I got outdoors every time I had the opportunity to do so.

I had invited a friend to attend, and she and I shared a table with one of my other friends (i.e. extended family member) from the previous retreat. The three other women who shared a table and meals with us were new to us, but we bonded relatively quickly.

Our retreat leader this time around was Fr. Mike Graham, who was the former president of Xavier University. His talks were so engaging, and there was only one packet for the whole retreat, so his leadership style suited me well. I had the blessing to experience the trifecta of his wisdom and teaching—I attended all of his talks, had an appointment for spiritual guidance with him, and went to him for Confession on Friday night.

Overall, this year’s retreat was so meaningful for me. It wasn’t necessarily the presenter, the leadership, or the group of women with whom I experienced this, it was me. I went in knowing more of what to expect, wore a watch so that I had no excuse to pick up my cell phone, and really opened my heart to God’s guidance in my life.

It’s hard to put into words how profound this retreat was, but I would encourage anyone reading this to give a silent retreat a try. There’s no better way to disengage from the world around you for a few days so that you can work on yourself. I drove away from the retreat center that Sunday afternoon feeling like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders and that I had a clearer perspective of my life path. Who wouldn’t want that?

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As we’re in the 60 and above crowd, John and I aren’t expected to fast on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday anymore, but we still do our best to come up with something to give up or something to do each year to make Lent more meaningful for us.

In years past, we did some challenging things, like giving up sugar, fasting in various forms, or, one year, I went to daily Mass. This year, I set the bar low. This is the ninth year we’ve been overseeing my mom’s care. Three months ago, she fell and broke her hip, and was moved from an assisted living facility to hospice care in the memory unit of a nearby elder care services facility. That move has created more responsibility for us, as we strive to get to the facility at lunchtime as often as possible to feed her.

For Lent this year, I decided to disconnect from news headlines. I’d been finding myself going deeper into rabbit holes, spending way too much time on my phone, and finding it hard to sleep at night. The solution to that was giving up X/Twitter for Lent.

I haven’t fallen off the wagon once. Rather than being a hardship, it’s actually made my life less worrisome. From the few headlines I’ve seen from other social media sources, frightful things have been happening in our world for the last six weeks. Truth be told, I may continue fasting from the news until things settle down. I really don’t need the stress of hearing about situations I have no control over.

We weren’t looking for it, but we happened upon another thing to give up during Lent. Six-plus weeks with no grocery shopping. Since we became empty nesters, we realized that too much food was getting beyond its expiration date before we had time to eat it. We decided at the end of January to forgo grocery shopping until we’d eaten everything in our refrigerator, freezer, and pantry.

What might sound challenging to a lot of people turned out to be the ideal situation for us. This gave us the chance to clear out our food backstock and also put our creativity to the test— designing menus with diverse ingredients. By the end, we had some interesting, shall I say, meals.

What about you? What’s the most interesting thing you gave up or committed to do for Lent? Blessings to all as we enter the most holy week of the year.

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A year or so before my husband John retired in May of 2024, we started watching YouTube retirement videos. Our favorites are Joe Kuhn; Happy on Monday; Holy Schmidt; Erin Talks Money; Retire This Way with $500K; Merit Financial Advisors; Streamline Financial; Think Retirement; Retire Early $500K; James Conole, CFP; Ari Taulieb, CFP; Tae Kim – Financial Tortoise; Retire with Julia; Retirement Transformed, This is Our Retirement, Eric at The PeakFP; and Buzz’s Retirement Garage.

The topics cover the gamut from portfolio management and withdrawal strategies to healthcare costs, Social Security timing, lifestyle adjustments, and the emotional side of leaving work behind—proving that a fulfilling, slower-paced retirement is achievable whether you’re retiring with $500K or several million.

As we get close to the second anniversary of John’s retirement (and my semi-retirement—I’m still writing very part-time), we are getting in the groove of the retirement lifestyle…doing what we want, when we want, and with whom we want.

I would say it’s been an easier transition for John than for me. For the past 45+ years, I’ve been on overdrive, constantly multitasking. From school, to working full-time, to being a stay-at-home mom with our four children for 13 years, to going back into the workforce part-time, to starting a home-based health and wellness business, to creating a new career as a proofreader, copy editor, and ultimately, an author.

No matter what era I was in, there was one common denominator. I was in a hurry. It’s taken close to two years, but it dawned on me recently that I’m finally learning to slow down. To sit still. To do nothing. Just like our friends in the retirement videos have mentioned.

That thought led me to consider all of the day-to-day things I rushed through. Even when we were empty nesters, my days started with a bang and ended in exhaustion. I rushed through getting out of bed, exercising, showering, eating, playing my daily mind-exercise games, phone calls, texts, emails, to-do lists, conducting interviews, being interviewed, outlining, writing, rewriting, cleaning, doing the wash, planning trips, helping my parents, coffee meetups, chatting with people I’d run into here and there, running errands, cooking, cleaning, brushing my teeth, flossing. Heck, I even rushed through my prayers, whether it was the meal prayer or my daily rosary (which I listened to at 1.5 speed while doing the dishes every night).

Car advertisements always talk about going from zero to 60. What about going from 60 to zero? It’s a shock to the system. But you do eventually get used to it. What used to be considered wasting time is now considered living in the moment. It takes a while to acclimate to silence and stillness. The stillness where you can actually hear and ponder your thoughts. It’s crazy how much we’ve slowed our days down. We used to do our whole morning routine, including hydrating, rebounding, strength training, a 40-minute sauna, showering, and dressing before 8:00 a.m. Now, we seldom make appointments before 10:00 a.m. We just don’t want to be rushed anymore.

We can allot as much time as we’d like for any activity we want to pursue in the day, whether it’s reading, biking, or chilling out on our front porch or patio. Generally, we eat a light breakfast and have our main meal in the middle of the day. It seems healthier to consume the bulk of our calories early in the day. And, if we’re eating out, we avoid the crowds. Running errands and having appointments during the middle of the day helps us avoid crowds and the heavier early-morning and late-afternoon traffic. Traveling in the off-season allows for a more relaxed pace as well.

I used to consider being busy and having jam-packed days a badge of accomplishment. Now I consider every day successful, no matter what I did or didn’t do. John and I continue to say how lucky and blessed we are, and we look forward to seeing how the rest of our retirement will unfold. John Lennon said it well for us, “Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be…”

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If you’re not a fan of Fiddler on the Roof, you may not get this reference, but regardless, the thought of traditions came to mind at a women’s luncheon that I attended in December. We were doing an ice-breaker event at our table, and one of the questions was, “Does your family have any holiday traditions?”

A couple of women thought of a thing or two, but the others couldn’t think of anything. When it was my turn to speak, I rattled off a half-dozen things that we do as a family, but that was just the tip of the iceberg. The Lauer family is all about traditions, especially at Christmastime.

No judgment here, please, but our traditions start as early as November 1 each year. That’s when John and I start listening to Christmas music on Pandora at night for an hour or so when we go to bed. (This tradition started in my childhood when my mom would start listening to the Reader’s Digest Christmas records in late fall, particularly on cold, blustery days.) Every year, on the day after Thanksgiving, we put up our tree and all the indoor and outdoor Christmas décor. With three of our grandchildren helping us now, we can get the whole job done in about three hours. That’s also the day that our son comes over and makes our annual batch of Chex Party Mix.

When our four kids were at home, and we were living on a shoestring budget, on Thanksgiving weekend, we had our annual family trip to the movies, splurging on not only six tickets, but a bucket of popcorn and one large soda to split (free refills, so enough to keep everyone happy). We saw the classics, from Harry Potter to The Lord of the Rings. We don’t do the Thanksgiving weekend movies anymore, but we do go with our grandkids to the annual Fox Valley Festival of Lights.

For 25-plus years, the first week of December, we’ve gone to see the annual production of Christmas Stars at St. Francis Xavier High School. In December, we start watching our favorite Christmas movies (old-school DVDs and Blu-rays), including such classics as Jingle All the Way, Christmas Vacation, The Holiday, Christmas in Connecticut, Family Man, Miracle on 34th Street, A Charlie Brown Christmas, The Grinch (various versions), A Christmas Carol, Four Christmases, Elf, Arthur Christmas, and Santa Clause I, II, and III. Most years, it takes us through January to finish them all, especially now since we’ve added Hallmark, Netflix, and Amazon Prime Christmas movies to the queue.

When our grandkids start Christmas vacation, we devote a day to Christmas baking, which always includes Christmas cut-out cookies, using my mom’s recipe from 1957, and peanut butter balls. We have other recipes that we add to the list some years, ranging from molasses cookies to peanut butter cups, Seven-Layer Bars, and peanut/cashew clusters. We usually reserve the cookie frosting and decorating for Festivus, December 23.

Each year, everyone, particularly our grandkids, looks forward to Reindeer Games, which are games played in our basement: darts, foosball, and ping pong. It’s amazing how competitive we all are, and how good the grandkids are getting at these games. No one’s letting anyone win, that’s for sure!

Puzzles, most in the 1000-piece category, are put together each holiday season. When our daughter arrives from Ohio, we play games every day, either at our house or at our son’s house. Kid-friendly ones during the day, and games for older players at night, once the kids are in bed. Some of our favorites are Settlers of Catan, Code Names, Ticket to Ride, and Dominoes. But every year, new games are added to the mix.

We can’t forget the food! When everyone is in town, we try to eat together once a day. These meals include anything from cookout fare to JD’s Drive-In to Stuc’s calzones to ham on Christmas Day. Before our youngest daughter goes back to Ohio, we celebrate her late December birthday a couple of days early with takeout from Gingerootz.

The whole group is together for Christmas Eve day, then we go our separate ways. Everyone at our house attends Mass in the evening. On Christmas Day, we give the grandkids time to enjoy their gifts at home and head over to our son’s house after lunch to exchange gifts.

This was the first Christmas Eve in my whole life that I didn’t spend part of the evening with my dad. Traditionally, he and my stepmom had John, me, and the kids over for a light dinner and gift opening after we got out of 4:30 Mass. Unfortunately, my stepmom passed away on March 9 of this year, and my dad passed away six months later on September 11. I like to think they were enjoying our Christmas celebration from Heaven this year.

On New Year’s Eve, John and I have the house to ourselves and watch the movie It’s a Wonderful Life. Most years, we make it up until midnight, but when we don’t, we figure it’s midnight somewhere in the world and celebrate early. We’ll do a kombucha toast and reflect on the previous year and what we’re looking forward to in the coming year.

When Christmas vacation winds down, and everyone is back home safe and sound, then it’s time for John and me to settle down for our long winter nap. Just kidding! In early January, we had the grandkids over to take down the Christmas décor and the tree, and then they decorated the house for winter with my snowman collection. At the end of January, they’ll come back and switch out the snowmen for Valentine’s décor. On February 2, John and I celebrate the day by watching the classic movie Groundhog Day.

All these traditions may sound like a lot, but they fit our family well, and we look forward to them each year. What about you? Do you have as many holiday traditions as we do? What are your favorites?

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Today I saw a post on Facebook, asking readers to submit their Thanksgiving memories. Thinking back, my Thanksgiving memories may be different than most people’s. My dad was in the military, so we lived on or near Air Force bases until I was a junior in high school. That being the case, the closest we ever lived to any relatives was 500 miles away. While we could make that trek easily enough in the summer, it wasn’t so easy during the holidays with snow and/or ice issues that northern Midwest states deal with that time of year.

The one Thanksgiving that we did go to my grandparents’ house in Michigan. I was around 5 years old, and we drove from northern Wisconsin through Illinois and up to central Michigan. The trip there was fine, but on the way back, my parents decided to take the ferry across Lake Michigan back to Wisconsin, rather than driving through Chicago. Unfortunately, the ferry got stuck in the ice in the middle of the lake, and we were stranded overnight on the ferry. We lived for 24 hours on vending machine food, and for entertainment, we were gifted two decks of playing cards. Both had pictures of cats on them. I can still see them in my mind’s eye. An ice breaker came to our rescue the next day.

That was the end of trying to attempt that trip during the cold-weather months, so our family created our own Thanksgiving traditions. Dad was in charge of cooking the turkey, the dressing (the best ever), and the mashed potatoes, and Mom took care of the sides dishes (canned corn, sliced jelled cranberry, and pumpkin pie). I can remember the kitchen being steamy all morning as the cooking progressed.

For me and my two older brothers, Thanksgiving started with the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Mom and Dad would poke their heads into the den to check out the parade every now and then. Mom was particularly interested in the band performances because she had played the clarinet in marching band when she was in high school. She even had her parents open enroll her to a high school in another neighborhood so that she could be in their marching band, because they had a trip on the docket to New York City, which turned out to be one of the highlights of her high school years.

Dad loved every bit of the parade. He grew up in the Bronx, and had seen the parade in person several times as a child, so it was a special memory for him, particularly since he lost his dad when he was only 5, and his mom when he was 14.

Our Thanksgiving meal was a feast. Dad reigned over the turkey, using his electric knife to precisely slice it. He was the only one interested in the gizzards, neck, etc., so he got those parts for himself.

Unlike me, the person whose food was segregated on my plate, Dad created Thanksgiving Mountain on his, starting with the turkey, then the dressing, the mashed potatoes, the corn, the cranberries, all topped off with a generous serving of gravy. I always asked how he could mix his food like that, and he told me that it all got mixed in the end when it went into his stomach, so why not start that way?

After lunch, the guys watched football while Mom and I handwashed the dishes (no dishwasher for our family in the 1970s) and packed away the leftovers. When I finished, I joined the boys in the den. I didn’t know much about football at that time, but I liked being part of the camaraderie.

When the game ended, around 3:00, it was off to the bowling alley. Back then, there were no bumpers, so it was a challenge for a scrawny kid like me to get the ball down to the pins without hitting the gutters. I don’t think I ever even got near 100 (or 50, for that matter). Dad and Mom were both on bowling leagues, so they were solid bowlers. But, one day a year, we had this special time together as a family. (If you read my book Anything But Groovy, you can discover more about our holiday traditions, including Thanksgiving and Christmas, but with a time-travel twist: think, a combo of “Back to the Future” and “Freaky Friday”.)

Christmas had a similar vibe. Mom was the queen of creating magical Christmases, even if Dad took credit for buying and wrapping the gifts (a family joke that went on for decades). This year will be my first Thanksgiving without my dad, but I treasure the memories we created back then. It may have been just the five of us, but we were a team and made the best of what we had.

Happy Thanksgiving, Dad! I still don’t allow my food to intermingle on my plate, so I won’t be creating Thanksgiving Mountain, but I’ll be thinking of you!

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Maybe it’s because of my Irish roots, but I feel I have the ability to be a professional mourner. When someone close passes away, or even someone I don’t know personally, but whose life story touches my heart, I don’t just cry, I weep — in genuine sorrow — potentially for days. I’d make the ideal guest at an Irish wake, which can last two days or longer. Even if I didn’t know the deceased, seeing other people (particularly men) cry sets off the waterworks.

I’ve often said that I could never recite a eulogy, do a reading, or offer a personal reflection at a funeral. Through the years, I’ve come to realize that I can cry or talk, but not both at the same time.

With my father’s passing, I’ve experienced a sorrow I’ve never felt before. In the five weeks since he died, I’ve kept myself busy from sunup to sundown, doing all the things it takes to plan a funeral, set up the interment of his ashes with military honors, settling his estate, etc. Anything to ward off the tears that are ever on the verge of falling.

To my profound relief, Dad’s funeral went off without a hitch. Multiple people mentioned afterwards what a beautiful Mass it was, how moving and beautifully performed the songs were, how the display tables and the photographs really gave a glimpse of the man my dad was. Our son did the reflection on his grandpa’s life admirably. He had us laughing and crying. I know Grandpa would be proud of him.

If I’d tasked myself with presenting that talk, it would’ve had a more somber tone, reflecting on my experience of having Kieran Purcell as my father for 63 years. Here’s the eulogy I never delivered…

I’ll admit, I was always a daddy’s girl. One of my earliest memories was stepping on Dad’s shoes and dancing with him at the NCO club on the Air Force base where he served during my childhood. Neil Diamond’s song Cracklin’ Rosie always brings me back to those days.

Being in the military wasn’t a financial boon, by any means. Dad would tell me that the best times of his life were (before I was born, go figure!) when he was stationed in New Jersey and would come home from work and give Mom a break from taking care of my brothers, Gordon and Rodney, who were nine months apart in age. He’d take them along the boardwalk on the Jersey shore. It saddened him that he didn’t even have a nickel to buy them an ice cream cone, but he and the boys loved every moment of those late afternoons together (and I’m sure Mom was happy for a break from two rambunctious toddlers).

When Dad was stationed at the Air Force base in Antigo, he took on a second job, tending bar at Riverview Country Club. That’s when his legendary 50-year love affair with golf began. No hole-in-ones, but he got close a couple of times. His best score was 72, scratch golf.

In my eyes, Dad was the big fish in the little pond in that small town. He was charismatic and had the charm, accent, and good looks to give any Kennedy a run for his money. When he wasn’t working, he and Mom would host card parties, he enjoyed grilling and making his amazing from-scratch spaghetti and meatballs on the weekends (while listening to Broadway tunes or Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass), he golfed, he bowled, he lectored at our parish, and he was a loyal and active member of the Antigo Elks lodge.

When he and Mom split up before my junior year of high school, I made the difficult decision to stay with my dad. I felt like I’d have a more stable living situation with him and that I could finally have more time with him.

We had a few months together on our own before we moved from the Air Force base in Minnesota, where he was working, to Wisconsin, for the beginning of his career with the National Weather Service. Six months after we got here, he married my stepmom, Mary. I lived with them for my senior year, and then left home when I went to college.

By that Christmas, I was engaged (to the man whom I just celebrated 44 years of marriage!), so I moved back home again. John and I were married on September 11, 1981. Side note: When my dad had his last hospital stay, he said to me, “I’m glad you fell in love and left college. It turned out great!” It sure did!

On March 8, 1985, I gave Dad and Mary the best gift they could’ve ever asked for — a grandchild! Over the course of the next six years, we added three more children to the brood. Dad was an incredible grandpa. He loved his grandchildren fiercely and gave so much time and attention to them, especially after he retired in 2000.

Living less than two miles from Dad and Mary, we saw them regularly. They watched the kids at times, came to their school programs and sporting events, and were at all the family celebrations. Every Christmas Eve, John and I and the kids arrived at their house after 4:30 Mass concluded and enjoyed finger foods and sweets, and then opened gifts. The running joke with Dad was watching the kids open a gift from him and Mary and telling everyone how much work he’d put into buying that gift, when we all knew that Mary did the shopping and wrapping.

Our lives were busy during the child-raising years and beyond, when John and I were empty-nesters and became grandparents ourselves. Those eight grandchildren, Dad’s great-grandchildren, were the joy of his life. He encouraged the grandkids to call him Elder Grandpa, because their Grandpa Lauer was truly a great grandpa; he thought John deserved that title.

One constant in my life was wanting to have more time with Dad. Several years ago, I joined the Fox Valley Catholic Bible Study group that Dad had belonged to since 1980. That gave us every Friday morning together, a time we cherished.

Two years ago, my wish was truly granted, in an unexpected way, but it turned out to be a blessing. In September of 2023, Dad was diagnosed with metastatic melanoma. He didn’t tell me about the diagnosis until November of that year, after our youngest child was married and our youngest grandchild was born.

I was devastated by the news, but did what I could to support Dad. We spent more time together than I ever could’ve imagined, but the bulk of that was at the cancer center for his checkups, radiation, and immunotherapy appointments. But we also had coffee dates, lunch dates, a night at the PAC watching his favorite Broadway musical, Les Misérables, trips to Ohio to visit the kids and grandkids, and lots of drives in between.

After Dad had his first serious fall in January, and then when Mary passed away in March, our time together ramped up significantly, because he needed help with day-to-day living. I was grateful to be there for him, and he constantly expressed his gratitude to me for anything I did for him. Over that time, I really got to know him on a deeper level and saw a vulnerability in him that I’d never seen before. I heard stories from his growing-up years in the Bronx, his days in the military, school days, what his hopes and dreams had been, and the regrets he had along the way. What inspired me the most was how his faith deepened as he went further along in his cancer journey.

Dad never did get to ring the bell at ThedaCare Cancer Center that would declare to the world that he was cancer-free. But he did accomplish something even bigger than that. His greatest wish was to live long enough that his great-grandchildren would remember him. They do, and they always will. Who could forget someone as memorable as Elder Grandpa Kieran Purcell?

The post The Eulogy I Never Gave appeared first on AMANDA LAUER.

For some reason, I jumped on the cool mom bandwagon in January and chose a word to focus on for 2025. I generally don’t do this, but the word SERVE kept coming into my line of sight, so I thought it was a nudge from God that this should be my word for the year.

Well, the word SERVE certainly was appropriate. So appropriate, that I doubt if I’ll ever choose another annual word to focus on again. I feel like I’ve done nothing but serve so far this year. I’m more than happy to help my family and loved ones, but this year has been more than I bargained for.

My stepmom had surgery on January 6, which didn’t turn out as planned. She went into hospice on January 31 and passed away on March 9. By chance, on January 31, my dad failed to show up for the hospice meeting, and when John and I went to check on him, we discovered that he had fallen in his bathroom and had been on the floor for nine hours.

Our winter was spent driving back and forth between the hospital, the rehab center, and, when my dad was finally released from care, his house. Add to this, looking after my mom, who’s in assisted living under long-term hospice care for Alzheimer’s dementia. After my stepmom’s passing, there were countless tasks to be taken care of, including planning her funeral.

We had a smooth stretch for a while, where my biggest job for my dad was bringing him to various appointments, including his monthly immunotherapy for his metastatic melanoma. There were fun things as well, like soccer games for our grandkids, Bible study, errands, etc. Our biggest adventure was in August when we took him to Ohio for four days to spend time with his great-grandchildren, who live in Ohio, and the ones who traveled to Ohio from Seattle for the week.

The day after we got back, life got more complicated. I had to bring my dad to the ER for what turned out to be COVID. After a few days in the hospital, he was released, but then had a fall the following Friday. No major issues that day, but the following Thursday, he fell in his bathroom once again (for some reason, the fall detection alarm didn’t detect the fall, so we aren’t sure how long he was down before he was able to reach the pendant trapped under him and push the alarm).

He’s been in the hospital since, first in ER, then on the floor, then in ICU for four days, now back on the floor. His ailments included MRSA, severe sepsis, three broken ribs, pneumonia, a kidney injury, heart strain, rhabdomyolysis, and critically low blood pressure (69/35). If the MRSA responds to the antibiotics, and the infection hasn’t gone to his heart, he’ll be released to rehab this week.

While he’s in rehab, we’ll be figuring out a plan going forward that will provide the most comfortable and safe life for him. Lots of things to consider, facilities to visit, plans to make. But, at this moment, we’re taking life one day at a time.

Meanwhile, my sixth and final book in my Heaven Intended series was going through the publishing process for the last several months. A Hero Such as Heaven Intended was published today, Monday, September 8, 2025.

There was no formal launch, as I’ve been just doing what I can to keep my head above water, so I’ve passed this along to my agent, the Blessed Mother. This year of “service” has been a bit overwhelming, but numerous people have stepped forward to help me on my journey, particularly John, our kids, and some amazing friends, including Leslea Wahl, who put together memes for social media for this book and wrote a heartwarming review for the book that brought me to tears. (See below.)

A Hero Such as Heaven Intended is the sixth and final book in Amanda Lauer’s Heaven Intended Civil War romance series. From the opening pages of the first book, A World Such as Heaven Intended, I was hooked. I’ve always had a fascination with the complexities surrounding the Civil War that tore the nation and so many families apart. The premise of the story might have been what first attracted me, but it was the witty dialogue, engaging characters, and elements of faith that really drew me in.

Lauer is a gifted storyteller, perfectly blending history, intrigue, romance, and faith, keeping the reader eagerly turning the pages. Each book in the series focuses on a different young couple, making it easy to pick up any of the books. While the stories can be standalones, Lauer uniquely connects each of the storylines, making them even more appealing to readers.

Trapped in Atlanta, during the final critical months of the war, Theresa Lundgren’s life is far from what she’d hoped it would be. And then, in a split second, everything is turned upside down. A tragic event sparks the catalyst for Theresa’s journey of self-contemplation, renewal of faith, and even altering her values and life goals. This strong-willed Southern belle had set plans on how to ensure her future, but all that changes when she meets Sergeant Joseph Laurent at the scene of a crime. While resisting her new circumstances, Theresa soon discovers skills she doesn’t realize she possesses, unexpected feelings of compassion, and a fortitude that no one would have expected from this slightly self-centered woman.

When I discovered this was the last book in the Heaven Intended series, I was disappointed it was coming to an end, but I must say this was the perfect story to end on with an intriguing connection to the very first book in the series. Lauer brilliantly revisited a critical scene from that first novel, this time telling it from a completely different viewpoint. I eagerly went back to A World Such as Heaven Intended to reread and truly appreciate those superbly written passages.

This final story was such a joy to read, and while I dreaded the ending of the series, the last few chapters were so fulfilling, giving readers a chance to reconnect with all the various characters we’ve grown to care about during this literary journey. Thank you, Amanda Lauer, for this incredible series and the truly satisfying conclusion. You are a gifted writer, and I believe you were led to write this special series, making you an author such as heaven intended. 

I don’t envision the rest of the year being any less busy, but the words of Christopher Robinson to his buddy Winnie the Pooh resonate with me at this moment. “You’re braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”

To that point, I’ll keep moving forward. My dad and mom could use any prayers you’re willing to offer. If you’d like to support my writing efforts, please consider ordering the paperback or the Kindle version of A Hero Such as Heaven Intended today. If you’d like a signed paper, I make local deliveries, or I can drop a copy in the mail.

Thank you for being part of this journey with me!

The post It’s Been Quite the Year… appeared first on AMANDA LAUER.

Here’s a bit of trivia about me. If I ever get famous for my books or movies, maybe someday it’ll become a DJ Trivia question. I went to three high schools. No, it wasn’t because I was expelled for poor behavior; it was because of job transfers for my dad.

My dad was in the Air Force, and after his service ended, he took a position as a radar technician working for the U.S. government on an Air Force base. That necessitated a move from sunny California to Northcentral Wisconsin. We lived off base, and I attended a public school for kindergarten (Catholic schools didn’t have kindergarten classes back in the day), I attended a Catholic grade school for first through eighth grade, and then went to the local public high school for my freshman year.

At the end of that school year, the base my dad was working at was closed, so our family packed up and moved to Northern Minnesota, on the border of Canada, to another Air Force base. I spent my sophomore year and the first two months of my junior year on the campus of a public school that housed kindergarten through 12th grade.

That based closed, and my dad switched jobs to work for the National Weather Service, which brought us back to Wisconsin, this time in the northeast part of the state, for the remainder of my junior year and my entire senior year. I graduated from one of the public high schools in the area.

Not all that intriguing, but it does explain the three high schools. Regardless of how little time I spent at each high school, I’m a faithful attendee of class reunions. I liken class reunions to wedding or baby showers. If people are willing to put in all the work to throw them, and I’m invited, the least I can do is attend. Having graduated from Appleton High School-West, I make it a priority to attend their reunions every five years. Having only attended for part of my junior year and half days for most of my senior year (my afternoons were free so I could work), I can’t say I know a ton of people from that class, but I do have some friends who are still near and dear to me. Even though we see each other throughout the year at various other venues, it’s still fun to connect at the class reunion.

Baudette, Minnesota, is a nine-hour drive from here, so the chances of my ever attending a class reunion there are slim. I’m only in touch with one classmate from my sophomore year. To be honest, I’m not sure if Lake of the Woods High School even holds class reunions. If they do, they’ve never tracked me down.

That leads to my first high school, Antigo High School. Even though I didn’t graduate from there, I lived in Antigo for 12 years, and I’m relatively sure I know more members of that graduating class than I do from the other two schools combined. For sure, I remember every member of our 8th-grade class who graduated from St. John’s School together.

Last month, I had the pleasure of attending our 45th high school class reunion. John and I made the two-hour trek to Northcentral Wisconsin. That morning, I gave a talk about my writing career at the Antigo Public Library, had a book sale, then spent the afternoon with my forever-friend Julie and her husband John, after which we headed as a group to the local bowling alley for the reunion.

I would guess there were fewer than 100 people there, but we sure had a great time. There was socializing, reminiscing, a nice buffet for dinner, and a live band. A group of us spent most of the night on the dance floor, dancing to songs from our high school years and beyond.

It was so fun catching up with everyone. I had great conversations with my classmates from St. John’s and people from high school that I didn’t necessarily know that well back then, but know a lot better now. It was great hearing how life has treated everyone.

The interesting thing for me is that this trip confirmed what a great group of guys and girls I went to school with. We all remember the angst of middle school and high school. I don’t know that any one of us was at our best in those turbulent years, but we all turned out well. The reunion was a time of laughter, support, healing, and hugging. Every person I talked to that night is genuinely a decent human being, and I am proud to call them my friend.

It was an event I’ll remember for a long time. God willing, all the people in attendance at the 45th reunion (and maybe some more) will be able to make it to the 50th reunion. I wish everyone the best as we settle into our retirement years.

The theme song for our 8th-grade graduation was “Times of Our Lives” by Paul Anka. He puts the emotions I experienced at our reunion and in the weeks since into better words than I can.

Good morning, yesterday
You wake up and time has slipped away
And suddenly it’s hard to find
The memories you left behind
Remember, do you remember?

The laughter and the tears
The shadows of misty yesteryears
The good times and the bad you’ve seen
And all the others in between
Remember, do you remember
The times of your life? (Do you remember?)

Reach back for the joy and the sorrow
Put them away in your mind
The mem’ries are time that you borrow
To spend when you get to tomorrow

Here comes the setting sun (comes the setting sun)
The seasons are passing one by one
So gather moments while you may
Collect the dreams you dream today
Remember, will you remember
The times of your life?

Gather moments while you may
Collect the dreams you dream today
Remember, will you remember
The times of your life?

Of your life
Of your life

Do you remember, baby?
Do you remember the times of your life?
Do you remember, baby?
Do you remember the times of your life?

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