Rocky

We just buried my little great-nephew, Rocky.

Strictly technically speaking, I don’t have any blood claim to Rocky.  Let me back up a little to give you some perspective.

My sister Mary, who died many years ago, left behind her wonderful husband Roger, and their two lovely daughters Jeannie and Emily (who are like my own).  Roger remarried a few years later, and his wife is Marcia.  To quote Marcia, she and I are “sisters-in-law by choice”.  Marcia has two kids from her first marriage, Vanessa and Derek.  Vanessa and her sweet, strong husband Billy have 3 kids, plus Rocky.  I am “Aunt Amy” to all of them.

When Vanessa was 6 months pregnant with Rocky, she went into premature labor, and Rocky was born 3 months premature, at 1 lb. and 6 oz.  He spent 3 months in NICU, fighting valiantly to survive.  He was finally able to go home (here on earth) 3 months later, on November 9th, which, coincidentally, is the same day we buried my sister in 1994.  Last Monday, he lost his battle and went home to his Heavenly Father.

I was not able to get to know Rocky myself personally.  My sadness in this particular situation is for Vanessa and Billy and Marcia, and the rest of the family, and just for the fact that this sweet little one fought so hard and could not, in the end, overcome all the problems associated with his early birth.

I’ve never before been to a funeral for one so little.  It is heartbreaking.  The tiny little casket was pulled on a little wagon by his father as they left the auditorium.  The cemetery has a corner dedicated to babies, and THAT is heartbreaking, too.

As sad as it is and was, there was laughter today.  You get to see a lot of people you haven’t seen in a while in this situation.  In my case, I got to see a bunch of Roger’s family – whom I have known since I was 5 years old and consider as much family as my blood kin.  You can’t get together with that family and not laugh.

Rocky is being buried at the same cemetery where my sister is buried.  After the graveside service, Roger and his brothers and parents, and his brothers’ wives, followed me over to my sister’s gravesite.  There we stood in a little semi-circle and cried together, for Mary, for Rocky, for each other, for everyone who is sad over death.

Isaiah 25:8 says that God will “swallow up death forever, and the Lord GOD will wipe away all tears from all faces…”

“And, Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight,The clouds be rolled back as a scroll,
The trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend,
‘Even so’ – it is well with my soul.”
(H.G. Spafford)

I long for that day, more and more as time goes on and I get older and experience more losses. The day when God himself will dry our tears and bring us all home to him. In the meantime, we lean on each other, and on our faith in anticipating that day.

The family solicits and appreciates your prayers.

All Is Calm

That quiet moment after everyone else is gone to bed, and I have the house to myself – just a few still minutes of peace.  I treasure that time.

Tonight, it’s cold outside but warm inside.  My Christmas tree is glowing softly in my living room.  It’s  a perfect night for a cup of hot chocolate.

So I fix myself a cup, and I go sit on the couch in the living room, enjoying the tree and the quiet and the chocolate, and the blessed realization that, for the first Christmas in a whole bunch of years, I don’t feel bad.  I can look at my tree and see how pretty it is.  The brightness isn’t shadowed with grief and sadness.

I consider some of the ornaments.  It’s an eclectic collection, to say the least.  The pretty store-bought ones mix with the ones the kids made in elementary school.  Tiny ones that date back to my single years when I had a little one-foot tree.  Ones given as gifts, ones made with and by family, ones won at gift exchange parties.  There are enough of them that they cover the tree, and the effect is really lovely, even if the individual pieces are a little shopworn.

The girls and I started a tradition years ago when they were little.  I put the hooks in the ornaments, and they take turns putting them on the tree.  At first, the ornaments would all end up on the bottom third of the tree; after they went to bed, I would spread them out more evenly.  As they’ve grown older, they can reach the top branches of the tree themselves, sometimes higher than I can!

But back to this silent night.  Tonight I can feel the joy that is always deep inside me, but sometimes doesn’t make it to the surface.  As I sit with my cup of hot chocolate, warming my hands around the mug, I’m grateful for the quiet and the beauty.

And the heavenly peace.

Sin and Death Shall Not Prevail

You know what?  I’m mad.

Okay, sad, too, but I think mostly mad.

I’m mad at death and mad at sin.

The reason we have death in the world is because our universe is broken.  Ever since the first sin, the universe has been groaning from the weight of it.  Because of sin, we have migraines, strep, tummy viruses, the flu, broken arms, heart attacks, AIDS, arthritis, depression and cancer.  And death.

Make no mistake: death is the enemy.  Sometimes, death can be welcome, after a long, hard illness or at the end of a long, productive life.  But death was never the original plan.  Even Jesus wept at death, even knowing He was about to raise his friend from death.

It would be easy to throw all the blame at Adam and Eve.  But, admit it, any of us probably would have done the same as they, especially with the Deceiver egging us on.  “Oh, no, you will NOT surely die!  You will be as wise as God!”

The older I get, the more people I care about are dying.  That’s only going to get worse as I get older (unless Jesus returns in the meantime… which, oh, yes, Lord, please do!).  And I’m just so sad, and angry.

I won’t enumerate all the people in my life who have died that I am thinking of today.  But I want to mention my friend Teresa, a lovely, vibrant, alive young woman, a Zumba instructor with ridiculous amounts of energy, an oncology nurse who loved and nurtured many women through the horrors of breast cancer.  And like a puff of smoke, she is now gone.  A brain stem aneurism.  It’s just so wrong.  It doesn’t compute – I can’t seem to process it.

There is good news.  Jesus came to conquer death, and through Him, death will come to an end one day.  He takes the sting from death, and promises to wipe away all tears.  I am grateful that death isn’t the end, that Jesus is the Alpha and the Omega.

And, hopefully, He can help mitigate my sadness and anger today with that promise.  Come, Lord Jesus.  Please come soon.

Mawwaige is what Bwings us Togevah today!

So, today is the 22nd anniversary of my being married to the love of my life.  It occurred to me earlier today that I have not written about how we got engaged, and this seems like a good day to do so.

It was the last days of June 1990.  David and I had been dating for several months, and actually had already discussed and planned to get married.  We had ordered rings, but (to my knowledge) they had not come in yet.

David’s brother and his fiancee were to be married July 1st that year, in a tiny little place called Craig, Colorado.  David and I were driving up there for the wedding.  I don’t think either of us anticipated what an adventure that trip was going to be.

As it was smack in the middle of the summer, it was dreadfully hot.  We got about 3 hours out of town when the car broke down.  I should also mention that David’s little 13-year-old diabetic dachshund Ginger was traveling with us.  The good news on this leg of the journey was that we knew what was wrong, and were able to get what we needed to fix the car.   We found an abandoned gas station awning to park under, and there was a hose for water.  We were sidelined for 2 or 3 hours, but relatively comfortably, all things considered.  Ginger had water and shade, and we had a decent place to work on the car.

As a side note, let it be known that a couple fixing a car together is not known (in my family anyway) as being a good thing.  As my sister once told her husband, “I don’t think we are good enough friends to do this.”  Surprisingly, David and I were.  I credit David for that mostly.

Anyway, with that little hiccup taken care of, we traveled on.  We had already planned to stop in Denver for the night, but it was nearly midnight when we finally got there.

I did not know this, but our rings had arrived and David had them with him.  He had planned to propose that night at dinner, but it was so late, we didn’t even go to dinner.

The next morning, I told David that I had not slept well.  He told me to go back to sleep, and that he would go round up some breakfast for us.

When he got back, he came into my room.  He had gone to a store and bought a big glass platter, a long-stem red rose, a red taper candle, an eclair, and a cinnamon roll.  He had lit the candle and used some of the wax to stand it up on the platter, where he had arranged the pastries, the rose, and a ring box.  Bringing me breakfast in bed, he knelt next to me, gave me the ring, and asked me to marry him.  (I said yes.)

So, that’s the story of the proposal.  The story of the trip continues, however.

When we finally got to Craig, CO, the next day, we found out that David’s dad, who was traveling with David’s mom and youngest brother Mark, had had heart trouble on the way, and had wound up in ICU in Denver (where we had just left, unknowing).  He missed the wedding (which he was to have performed), and ended up having quadruple bypass surgery the day after.  David’s newlywed brother and sister-in-law delayed their honeymoon by a day or two to be there with us.  David’s dad survived the surgery, but was stuck there in Denver for several days.

Surely nothing else could go wrong, right?  Ah, dear reader, you are so naive!

David and I finally were able to head back home a few days later.  It was more than 100 degrees, driving across barren land, with a diabetic dog in the back seat.

And the air conditioner went out in the car.  Yes, really.  It was SO hot, but our biggest worry was Ginger.  David bought a bag of ice and put a blanket over it, with Ginger on top.  She was able to stay cool enough that way.  She probably would not have survived otherwise.

The miracle of the trip, in my mind anyway, was that David and I were closer than ever by the time we had gone through all of that.  It had never been my experience that a trip so fraught with adventure could actually turn out well.  AND, we were ENGAGED!

As a post script to the story, I want to write about our 20th anniversary a couple of years ago.  For those of you who don’t know it, I have a part-time job at the same company where David works.  The morning of our anniversary, I took my time getting to the office (I had fairly flexible hours at that time).  Finally, my boss called me and said, “Are you coming into the office today?  You need to come into the office.  Now.”

I figured David had got me flowers or something like that.   Well, he had, but that was not all.  When I got there and went to my desk, there was a glass platter with a red candle (lit), a huge bouquet of red roses, and pastries!  He had re-created the day he proposed to me.

Not every anniversary has been as romantic as that one, but each one has still been special, a milestone in our love story that we both cherish every year.  Every day, really.  Today is our 22nd anniversary, and we are more in love than ever.  I am so thankful for that blessing.

Colorado Trip 2012

For a week every summer for the last 10 years or so, we have gone to a little town in Colorado called Cuchara.  We have friends who own a cabin up there, and they rent it out through an agent every summer. 

David and I originally went by ourselves, while the kids stayed with grandparents for the week.  A few years ago, we started taking them with us.  So it is now a family vacation, which has turned out much nicer than I thought it would.  The girls are 15 and almost 13 now, and while you might think that would be a pain, they are so sweet and helpful and grateful.  They know that a perfect vacation for me is a big bag of books and a big bag of movies, and they respect that I want – no, need – that time to indulge in my favorite pastimes.  I usually average 5 or 6 books during this week and 4 or 5 movies, at least.    

Here are some stories and thoughts on this year’s trip.

 

The Cabin

Because our friends own the cabin, it feels almost like we are staying with family.  It’s a very comfortable cabin with a full kitchen and washer and dryer.  At about 10,000 feet up, it perches on the side of a mountain, and while there are other cabins around, this one is situated as to feel very secluded.  You walk out the door to the deck, and the mountain is right there.   There is a game trail that wanders beside the deck and up the mountain, and it is common to see deer walk right past the window and up the mountain.  Because it is so high up, it is very cool there, even when it is fairly warm down in the town below. 

As a point of local color, there is talk that the cabin is haunted.  Yes, really.  Here’s the thing:  there is a bedroom and a bathroom downstairs in a basement.  Because it is almost underground, there are no windows and it is much cooler down there.  So… it can be argued that it is cold and dark and creepy down there.  It also creaks a lot.  The rental agent says his cleaning people won’t go down there because they feel a “presence”.  That’s a lot of hogwash.  But I will admit to jumping one night when I heard someone in the kitchen, and everybody was in bed, and then the next day a door slammed by itself.    Both things were a result of wind, but I thought it was funny.

 

Chipmunks

The chipmunks around the cabin are very tame and used to scavenging for food around the cabin.  This year, there were several that quickly discovered we were a soft touch for food.  They would come up onto the deck and prowl around our feet for the bites we would drop.  A couple of them were bold enough to eat right out of David’s hand!  When we were not out there, they would come up to the sliding glass door, stand up on their hind legs, put their little feet against the glass and stare in, looking for their meal ticket!  A couple of years ago, one of them climbed up onto Leah’s foot, ate the potato chip she’d put there, then licked the salt off of her foot!  Mary did a funny imitation of the chipmunks standing up against the door:  “Helloooo!  Where’s my foooooood?!  Am I not cute enough for you any more?!”  Then she made a “cute” face by putting her fingers in her dimples and smiling manically.

 

Deer

We did not see as many deer this year as we usually do, but we did see a few.  We saw a mama deer nursing her fawn, and that was really cool.  The funniest thing was when one day we had gone down into the little town about 30 minutes away to download emails and so forth.  This big ol’ buck with a big rack of antlers just came sauntering down the street on the sidewalk in the middle of town!  He stopped right next to our van and peed, then went strolling along like a regular pedestrian. 

 

Aspen Trees

One of my favorite things about Colorado is the aspen trees.  They are so pretty!   Their leaves are almost circular, and they attach to their limbs in a way that lets them flutter freely.  When the sun shines on them and the wind blows, they reflect the light so that they look like they are twinkling.  I can sit for long periods of time just watching them.

 

DVD Entertainment

I’ve discovered that the Denton library is a wonderful source of DVD’s, including movies and TV series.  One of the things that has been fun about bringing the kids with us on these trips is introducing them to some of the great old (and not-so-old) movies and TV series.  Last year I brought a bunch of the old Dick Van Dyke shows, and the girls fell in love with them.  When we got home I was able to find the show on cable, and I record them for us to watch at home.  This year I brought a disc of Get Smart episodes.  They are so corny and awful and hilarious, and the girls begged for more.  I also brought “Sabrina” (the remake with Harrison Ford and Julia Ormand), and we really enjoyed watching that, too.  The girls are old enough to “get” stuff like that, and it’s fun for me to watch them watching it.  In the older movie category, we saw “Mr. Roberts” with Henry Fonda and James Cagney.  I love bringing these great stories to new eyes.

Of course, there were also Star Trek movies.  Can’t leave that out.  This year was “Nemesis” and “Insurrection”.  Man, I love Patrick Stewart. 

 

Books

I typically hit the library a few days before we go and stock up on books.  This year, I indulged myself by actually buying books for my Kindle.  This saved a lot of packing space, as I usually bring an actual suitcase of books.

This year’s selections:

Blindman’s Bluff by Faye Kellerman

Night Shadow by Nora Roberts

Night Shield by Nora Roberts

XO by Jeffery Deaver

Wicked Business by Janet Evanovich

The Next Always by Nora Roberts

Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert (this is an audible book I listened to when it was my turn to drive)

 

Still in line to read (bought for the trip but didn’t get to):

The Drop by Michael Connelly

The Last Boyfriend by Nora Roberts

Chasing Fire by Nora Roberts (do you see a trend here?)

Hangman by Faye Kellerman

Raining Cat Sitters and Dogs by Blaize Clement

I also have not finished Eat, Pray, Love yet.

I realize these are not exactly ultra erudite (well, Eat, Pray, Love kind of is, but it’s funny, too).  I started to say, “… but this was for my vacation,” but the truth is, this is my usual fodder.  Hate to disillusion you.  Hey, at least it wasn’t Fifty Shades of Gray.

 

The Kids

I’ve already talked about the kids some, but I wanted to tell about how wonderful they are to travel with.  They’ve always been good travelers – well-behaved, sweet-natured, and easy-going.  It makes me really proud that we can get through an entire 12-hour day of driving (each way) without any major scuffles.  I’ve tried to approach the days of driving as part of the vacation – it’s two whole days (one day there, one day back), and it’s a shame to spend it just rush, rush, rushing to get where we’re going.  Over the years, they’ve “collected” license plates, followed maps of our progress, counted yellow cars (that’s something they do at home, too – it’s a long story…).  This year they both have electronic devices to entertain them, as well as old-fashioned books.   On the drive home, Leah was sitting in the back of the van and Mary was in the middle section.  Leah tore a page out of a notebook, wrote a note on it, folded it up and passed it to Mary to pass up to me in the front seat.  On the front it said, “PASS TO MOM!”  Inside it said:  “Guess what?  I love you a lot and you are really awesome! (That’s what) –Leah”

Leah is turning into quite a good photographer, too, and she has been chronicling our last few trips.  Several times, she and Mary huddled on the couch to look at her pictures, heads together and giggling.  They are sisters, and they fight like sisters do, but they are also very sweet to each other, and I love to watch them when they are like this.

 

It is a cool and beautiful vacation spot, and it is a lovely time of renewal for all of us.  Too soon it is time to come home and jump back into the routine of work and, in a few days, school.  But it is always good to get back to our own beds and our own routines.  It is a blessing to go, and it is a blessing to come home.  There is an old saying (the Web is ambiguous about who said it first): “Wherever you go, there you are.”   Wherever we go as a family, we’re stuck with each other.  So it’s lovely that we enjoy our time together wherever we are. 

Folding Laundry

I have a new method for folding laundry:  I don’t.

I first got the idea from my older daughter, who would rummage through clean clothes in the laundry baskets, get all her own stuff, and make a pile in her room to either hang up later or wear as she wishes.  And I realized:  NOBODY CARES if the laundry is folded!

Seriously, this was a very cool epiphany for me.  First of all, we always hang up my good clothes and my husband’s good clothes after drying them for just a few minutes, so we don’t have to iron. (David usually does his own load of good clothes and hangs them up himself.  Yes, he is a jewel.)

The rest of the laundry consists of towels, underwear, socks, jeans, and my kids’ other clothes.  I do fold my husband’s other clothes because he’s the breadwinner who works all day.  And I fold the towels.

As for the rest:  I make a pile of my kids’ jeans, a pile of their underwear and socks, and a pile of their other clothes.  They are responsible for sorting through them to find their own stuff and can either stuff everything in drawers or fold or hang them up themselves.  For the most part, it gets stuffed in their drawers.  I don’t turn anything right-side-out, I don’t match up their socks, and I don’t try to figure out whose clothes are whose.  I match my own socks and make a pile for my own underwear.

I can dispense with an entire week’s worth of clean laundry for four people in 10 minutes using this method.

You’re welcome.

Young Mothers at Church

I have a sweet friend who is mother to four children, ages 2 to 8.  Her husband is our pulpit minister at church.  This means that, for the majority of the service, she corrals these four children on her own.  And, of course, they sit right up front.

I only have two children, but I can remember when they were small.  The struggle to get ready for church in the morning.  The struggle to keep them quiet during church.  The necessity of taking them out when they misbehaved or were crying for one reason or another.  To have four of them… it’s daunting.  But she handles it with grace.

I am the youngest of four children myself, and my mother was the young preacher’s wife, taking care of all the kids by herself during church.  My husband is the oldest of five, and his mother was also the preacher’s wife.

Of course, you don’t have to be the preacher’s wife for it to be difficult to have young children in church.  The problem really isn’t even that you have to wrangle them to church and then wrangle them during church.  The problem is that it’s very difficult for any worship to go on in the mother’s heart during this time.

Scenes from Sunday morning getting ready (do these look familiar?):

“Get your dress on.”
“I HATE that dress!”
*sighing* “Well, what about this one?”
“NO!”
*Exasperated* “Well, what dress DO you want to wear?”
“The yellow one.”
*Trying hard for patience* “The yellow one was too short, we had to give it away.”

————-
“MOOOOM!  I can’t find my other shoe!”
“*sighing*  Did you look under the bed?”
“YES, I looked EVERYWHERE!”
“Well, you’ll just have to wear your white shoes instead.”
“I don’t WANT to wear my white shoes! *sobbing*”

————-
“It’s time to go.  Get in the car.”
“It’s my turn to sit in that seat!”
“Nuh uh!  It’s my turn.”
“Nuh UH!”
“GET!  IN!  THE!  CAR!”

———–
Exactly how worshipful do you feel after being the Wicked Witch all morning trying to get the kids dressed and in the car?  Exactly how much worship do you accomplish when the two-year-old is doing the parachute-jump-arched-back tantrum for which you have to take her out five different times during worship service?  Are you even able to concentrate on the Communion service when Child #2 and Child #3 are fighting over the crayons?

Let me give you some reassurance.  Yes, this is a difficult time.  Yes, sometimes it’s embarrassing.  Yes, you may even get through the entire service without once feeling like you’ve worshipped.  I know.  I’ve been there, and I’ve watched countless other young mothers in the same boat.  But, I promise you, God understands.

Furthermore, as difficult as the process is, you are doing the right thing.  I know it’s tempting sometimes to just say, “It’s too much trouble.  We’re staying home.”  But doing it anyway, going anyway, every time, even when it’s bedlam, is the right thing to do.  You are investing in your children’s souls.  You are teaching them:  “This is what we do.  We go to church services.  Every time.  Even when you are being demons.”

It’s the same with any part of parenting.  Consistency is paramount.  This is the way we do it, every time.  We always tell the truth – always.  We follow the house rules.  You do not hit, even when you are really angry.

Insisting on doing the right thing when they are little, even when it is hard, is waaaaaaay better than giving in to the temptation to go the easy route, and then having to play catch-up when they are teenagers – which is nigh on impossible.  Doing it the hard way NOW is an investment in your children’s future, and in your own as their mother (and father, too).

My sweet friend I mentioned at the beginning has the right idea.  You can already see it working in her older kids.  I know she is so tired.  But she maintains a beautiful attitude, and keeps on coming, even though it is hard.   I remember hard days with my own kids,  standing in the shower after finally getting them to bed, and just crying from exhaustion.  I don’t know if my friend does that or not, but I know she knows the feeling.

Some of us are blessed to have a husband who takes on some of the load.  Mine did and does.  I’m sure my friend does – I see her husband holding the baby when he is able to, before going up to preach, giving her a break when he can.  A true partner in parenting is a blessing not everyone can claim, so I am grateful for mine.

Bottom line:  Hang in there, young moms.  You’re doing the right thing.  Even if you don’t manage to get any worshipping of your own done, you’re teaching your children that this is what we do, every time.  Eventually, they will grow up enough that you will be able to worship, and you will have the joy of knowing that your children are worshipping, too.  Good job, moms.