I never thought about lots of things even though I am quite a thinker.
I never thought about how life would change when I was child. I just thought it would always be the way it was. Change is not my favorite thing.
I never thought I would get too old to play with dolls, so when I did I just invented creative ways to help my sister play with her Barbie in style.
I never thought the time would finally come when I would grow up but I did.
I never thought I would drive a car but Dad said I needed to learn.
I never thought I would go to college but my parents said try it at least year.
I never thought I would leave home but I did. Going home was always sweet.
I never thought being homesick was really just like it sounds. Sick for home.
I never thought I would prefer mountains and valleys to the sandy beaches.
I never thought I would marry someone so different with a missionary kid multi-cultural background but we would still be alike in many ways.
I never thought I would marry into a big family after growing up in a small family. Though big family life is challenging, it has enriched my life.
I never thought the sister bond would be so strong that we often say things the same time, or even buy the same card. That same bond helps us to work as a team when we've had to tackle the hard times in life.
I never thought growing old together as a married couple would go so fast. From newlyweds, to newly parents, to empty nesters....in a blink of an eye.
I never thought how special being called Mom was until I became one. Or how the fragile job that goes with the name needs to be handled with care.
I never thought how quickly my piggy tailed girls would blossom into beautiful young women. My babies became brides.
I never thought I would learn to use a computer and now it is part of my daily life.
I never thought I would travel much because I love being home but I do. Memorable trips by land, by sea, by air to over a dozen countries and countless cities.
I never thought I would feel like I was in a page out of a geography book until I viewed Rio from the foot of the statue of Christ The Redeemer.
I never thought I would be at the top of the Eiffel Tower on New Years Eve, watching the silent falling snowflakes cover Paris in a soft white blanket.
I never thought I would see the snow capped mountains of Switzerland, the country of my girlhood dreams I most wanted to see and did.
I never thought I would like green peppers and now I love them.
I never thought I would give up ketchup or rock n' roll and I haven't.
I never thought I would be hit by a drunk driver in a head-on collision but I was.
I never thought I would drive off a dealership lot in a brand new shiny car, paid in full and all mine.
I never thought I would find my best friend from high school after losing touch for many years but I did. The connection to the past is special.
I never thought I would have life long friendships but I have lived long enough to have friends who have stuck with me and I with them, through thick and thin.
I never thought anything is more important then people, whether it is family or friends and I still don't.
I never thought I would hear a doctor tell me I had cancer but he did. Twice.
I never thought I would be bald but I was.
I never thought I would be seen in public bald but I was braver then I thought.
I never thought I would be in attendance for the births of five out of six of my grandchildren, a blessed event beyond description and privilege that I cherish.
I never thought I would exchange terrified looks with my pregnant daughter before an emergency c-section and remain outwardly calm. I managed it for her and because I trust the Lord.
I never thought I would be afraid to hold my premature granddaughter but I was. And so proud of my daughter in her courageous nurturing of this precious little life.
I never thought being a grandma would be so rewarding and so much fun. It is the ice cream of life and I sure love ice cream.
I never thought I would have so many cats in my lifetime, each one with its passing as painful as the last one. Many tears have been shed but the joys of having a furry friend outweigh the eventual loss someday.
I never thought about how children and grandchildren strengthen the marriage bond even stronger. No one shares the same interest in the 'stories' about the kids as much as your parenting partner.
I never thought of the day I would become the parent to my parents. Role reversal requires respectful diligence with balance and at its best, it is still difficult.
I never thought I would be able to calmly keep vigil at my mother's death bed and watch her take her last breaths. Mom did not want to die alone like her sister and she didn't. I was there, talking to her in case she could hear me, until the end.
I never thought I could keep my composure while gently closing my father's eyes after he took his final breath. It was the last loving thing I did for his person.
I never thought I would speak at the funeral services of each of my parents because I fear public speaking but it was a final act of honoring them.
I never thought I would be able to handle the breaking up of a lifetime of my parents earthly possessions but I did it, one box, one closet, one drawer, one cupboard, one file, one book, one photo, one pretty thing,..... one day at a time.
I never thought my parents would be buried in my town instead of Florida but they are. Even though I know they are absent from the body and present with the Lord, having their graves nearby comforts me.
I never thought I would feel like an orphan at 60 years old.
I never thought one of my daughters would have a failed marriage. And I never thought I would feel so helpless in the pain broken relationships bring.
I never thought I would feel so sad most of the time.
I never thought I would feel so glad to 'sing your praises, sing them one by one'.
I never thought about how important trusting the Lord in the little things really is until I had to trust Him in the big things. It was good practice for the real thing.
I never thought about growing old but I am. I thought being middle age was an adjustment but becoming a senior citizen is even more daunting.
I never thought about the aches and pains of aging until they started.
I never thought I would have to pace myself because my endurance is limited.
I never thought I would think about heaven as much as I do now. Heaven has become sweeter and more personal since I have many loved ones already there.
I never thought I would write these thoughts down instead of getting a good nights sleep but I have. It seemed important to say.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Pretty things
Grieving.....and pretty things.
I was sitting at my dining room table this morning and just looking around the room. I have acquired many things which originated from my mom as a gift or an inheritance. I prefer the things that she gave me as a gift because I was able to express my appreciation to her. And the things I have inherited are cherished remembrances but associated with my loss of a mom.
For many years, my mom collected various objects of value. Pitchers, Lenox, dolls, collector plates, figurines, Belleck, pewter, copper, crystal, crocks, Hummels, Precious Moments, milk glass, antique dishes, spoons, ...... that is just what pops into my head without straining my brain too much. Sometimes she bought three of something. One for herself, one for my sister and one for me. Her choices were very tasteful and her collections brought her great satisfaction.
Mom used to say, "Girls, if anything happens to me, you'll have lots of pretty things." (Funny she phrased it as 'if anything' happens instead of 'when something' happens. ) But anyway, at times that offended us. After all, our own homes were already decorated with things we like and chose. Weren't our choices good enough? Add to that the things she had already gifted us with that she thought we should collect. Where in the world would we put all her pretty things? It troubled us for years, knowing that someday we would have to deal with all of it.
We understood that it was very important to Mom to leave this legacy for us. All her pretty things. Perhaps because she came from a poor family of seven children and never had much to call her own. Or maybe her self esteem was interwoven with the pretty things she collected and filled her surroundings. Mom would even proudly proclaim to people that she was a collector. Oh my! Was she ever! She surely had an extra portion of everything you can imagine.
Mom even had a complete inventory of all her earthly possessions for the last twenty years. Each index card had the item description, when it was bought and purchase prize. Or if it was a gift and from whom. Sometimes a little note, like "I love it!" "My favorite" What a challenge to match the inventory card with the item, find the original box and paperwork for each collectible. I became quite proficient at playing the matchy- match game for the last two years.
So this brings me to where I am today.....now surrounded by many of Mom's pretty things. Yes, after Mom died, my perspective changed. I found out she was right after all. So did my sister. She knew we would want her pretty things. It became important to hold on to special things to keep the memories close. I willingly weeded out my own things to make room for Mom's pretty things. I never imagined I would want to keep the beautiful Lenox china we had tried to talk her out of buying. Especially because I have my own china that I love so much. Nor would I think I would end up with a collection of her best crystal, because I am not a big connoisseur of crystal. And why would a Toby mug suddenly be so appealing?
So now these are a few of my favorite things........The Yield House corner cabinet with drop leaf table displaying Mom's Belleck. The platform oak rocker sitting beside my grandpa's antique barrister bookcase with two shelves of memorabilia from my Dad's side. The maple desk with brass handled drawers that when opened make a noise that propels me back to my living at home years. A wicker desk from their first apartment that now graces our guest room. Mom's childhood tea set that I played with as a young girl. The green and brown spatterware crock pitcher that was my grandma's and passed down to my mom. The Little Women figurines, the afghans my grandma made, the Hummel collection display, my dad's pewter airplane display, knickknacks here and there...even two of her violet plants in a country basket transported from their Florida log home.
Unexpectedly, these pretty things give me comfort, coziness, and connection with the parents I miss.
I was sitting at my dining room table this morning and just looking around the room. I have acquired many things which originated from my mom as a gift or an inheritance. I prefer the things that she gave me as a gift because I was able to express my appreciation to her. And the things I have inherited are cherished remembrances but associated with my loss of a mom.
For many years, my mom collected various objects of value. Pitchers, Lenox, dolls, collector plates, figurines, Belleck, pewter, copper, crystal, crocks, Hummels, Precious Moments, milk glass, antique dishes, spoons, ...... that is just what pops into my head without straining my brain too much. Sometimes she bought three of something. One for herself, one for my sister and one for me. Her choices were very tasteful and her collections brought her great satisfaction.
Mom used to say, "Girls, if anything happens to me, you'll have lots of pretty things." (Funny she phrased it as 'if anything' happens instead of 'when something' happens. ) But anyway, at times that offended us. After all, our own homes were already decorated with things we like and chose. Weren't our choices good enough? Add to that the things she had already gifted us with that she thought we should collect. Where in the world would we put all her pretty things? It troubled us for years, knowing that someday we would have to deal with all of it.
We understood that it was very important to Mom to leave this legacy for us. All her pretty things. Perhaps because she came from a poor family of seven children and never had much to call her own. Or maybe her self esteem was interwoven with the pretty things she collected and filled her surroundings. Mom would even proudly proclaim to people that she was a collector. Oh my! Was she ever! She surely had an extra portion of everything you can imagine.
Mom even had a complete inventory of all her earthly possessions for the last twenty years. Each index card had the item description, when it was bought and purchase prize. Or if it was a gift and from whom. Sometimes a little note, like "I love it!" "My favorite" What a challenge to match the inventory card with the item, find the original box and paperwork for each collectible. I became quite proficient at playing the matchy- match game for the last two years.
So this brings me to where I am today.....now surrounded by many of Mom's pretty things. Yes, after Mom died, my perspective changed. I found out she was right after all. So did my sister. She knew we would want her pretty things. It became important to hold on to special things to keep the memories close. I willingly weeded out my own things to make room for Mom's pretty things. I never imagined I would want to keep the beautiful Lenox china we had tried to talk her out of buying. Especially because I have my own china that I love so much. Nor would I think I would end up with a collection of her best crystal, because I am not a big connoisseur of crystal. And why would a Toby mug suddenly be so appealing?
So now these are a few of my favorite things........The Yield House corner cabinet with drop leaf table displaying Mom's Belleck. The platform oak rocker sitting beside my grandpa's antique barrister bookcase with two shelves of memorabilia from my Dad's side. The maple desk with brass handled drawers that when opened make a noise that propels me back to my living at home years. A wicker desk from their first apartment that now graces our guest room. Mom's childhood tea set that I played with as a young girl. The green and brown spatterware crock pitcher that was my grandma's and passed down to my mom. The Little Women figurines, the afghans my grandma made, the Hummel collection display, my dad's pewter airplane display, knickknacks here and there...even two of her violet plants in a country basket transported from their Florida log home.
Unexpectedly, these pretty things give me comfort, coziness, and connection with the parents I miss.
Funerals
This week I know of four people who died. A friendly neighbor who was loved by his family and community. An individual who started out life under 2 lbs and lived and loved 87 years. A father who missed out on the blessings of his four children because he chose alcohol over the really good life. And a favorite aunt of my daughters friend.
We made a visit to the funeral home to pay our respects to the family. It is a good thing to do.
I've never felt comfortable in a funeral home. Never cared to look at the person in the casket. What do you say to the remaining family members? Always wondered why people stand around making small talk at a time like this. Why does everyone act like things are normal? Why do we go through these rituals?
But though out of my comfort zone, I go anyway. I go to stand at the casket and look at the empty shell of someones beloved family member. I look at the hands and resist the impulse to touch to see if the skin feels real. I evaluate the mouth to see if it looks natural or unnatural. I wonder why glasses are put on top of closed eye lids as if there will be an awakening from a nap. And the hair, is it like the person usually wore it? Then I move on down to the meet and greet line of grieving family.
To the family and friends, I murmur 'I am sorry' as I give a sincere hug. My heart feels sad for their loss.
Now I can leave. The guest book was signed. I've watched the memorial video celebrating a special life. I've paid my respects.
But it is different as I walk away. Being in a funeral home has opened the fresh wound of my own bereavement for my mom and dad. Once again, I am engulfed in a sea of grief. It seems like just yesterday I was thrust into the foreign territory of writing an obituary, gathering pictures for the memorial video, picking out a casket, and planning a funeral service. Mom first, then a year later Dad.
For as long as I can remember, I thought I could NEVER, EVER see either of my parents lying in the casket. But strangely, it was a comfort to stand at their casket. I knew neither one of them were suffering anymore. It was good to look into an expressionless face and see no pain. Absent from the body but present with the Lord. Special clothing was chosen for the last appearance. Mom in her pretty teal blue 50th anniversary dress and her earrings. Dad decked out in his beloved Captain's shirt and tie. Their hair was fixed like they would have wanted it. And I was comfortable to stroke their hair one more time.
I wonder if these memories will fade in time.
We made a visit to the funeral home to pay our respects to the family. It is a good thing to do.
I've never felt comfortable in a funeral home. Never cared to look at the person in the casket. What do you say to the remaining family members? Always wondered why people stand around making small talk at a time like this. Why does everyone act like things are normal? Why do we go through these rituals?
But though out of my comfort zone, I go anyway. I go to stand at the casket and look at the empty shell of someones beloved family member. I look at the hands and resist the impulse to touch to see if the skin feels real. I evaluate the mouth to see if it looks natural or unnatural. I wonder why glasses are put on top of closed eye lids as if there will be an awakening from a nap. And the hair, is it like the person usually wore it? Then I move on down to the meet and greet line of grieving family.
To the family and friends, I murmur 'I am sorry' as I give a sincere hug. My heart feels sad for their loss.
Now I can leave. The guest book was signed. I've watched the memorial video celebrating a special life. I've paid my respects.
But it is different as I walk away. Being in a funeral home has opened the fresh wound of my own bereavement for my mom and dad. Once again, I am engulfed in a sea of grief. It seems like just yesterday I was thrust into the foreign territory of writing an obituary, gathering pictures for the memorial video, picking out a casket, and planning a funeral service. Mom first, then a year later Dad.
For as long as I can remember, I thought I could NEVER, EVER see either of my parents lying in the casket. But strangely, it was a comfort to stand at their casket. I knew neither one of them were suffering anymore. It was good to look into an expressionless face and see no pain. Absent from the body but present with the Lord. Special clothing was chosen for the last appearance. Mom in her pretty teal blue 50th anniversary dress and her earrings. Dad decked out in his beloved Captain's shirt and tie. Their hair was fixed like they would have wanted it. And I was comfortable to stroke their hair one more time.
I wonder if these memories will fade in time.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Hello Blog
Hello Blog,
Always wondered about writing a blog. Isn't it so like the journal thing? I like writing journals. So today I decided to set this up on my own. Not sure of how it works. I am a 'when all else fails, read the directions' kinda a person. So I am proceeding ahead and will learn as I go. Pretty much how I have learned anything on the computer.
Picking a name was not as easy as it looks. Notes by Nancy seems simple but then I couldn't match the url with it.....sigh.
Picking a color was easy. I am all about pink. My sister told me a few years ago to embrace the pink ribbon because being a breast cancer survivor is my claim to fame. Or maybe she put it more like my greatest accomplishment. Actually, surviving the cancer treatment was quite an accomplishment. I am six years out. And I embrace PINK!
Picking out things to write about shouldn't be too hard. My head is full all the time of things I would like to download. These last few years have been packed with major life biggies.
So now it is time for the reader of this blog to pick out something.....like maybe a comfy chair cuz I am a long winded writer who has been keeping it in for a very long time.
Always wondered about writing a blog. Isn't it so like the journal thing? I like writing journals. So today I decided to set this up on my own. Not sure of how it works. I am a 'when all else fails, read the directions' kinda a person. So I am proceeding ahead and will learn as I go. Pretty much how I have learned anything on the computer.
Picking a name was not as easy as it looks. Notes by Nancy seems simple but then I couldn't match the url with it.....sigh.
Picking a color was easy. I am all about pink. My sister told me a few years ago to embrace the pink ribbon because being a breast cancer survivor is my claim to fame. Or maybe she put it more like my greatest accomplishment. Actually, surviving the cancer treatment was quite an accomplishment. I am six years out. And I embrace PINK!
Picking out things to write about shouldn't be too hard. My head is full all the time of things I would like to download. These last few years have been packed with major life biggies.
So now it is time for the reader of this blog to pick out something.....like maybe a comfy chair cuz I am a long winded writer who has been keeping it in for a very long time.
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