This morning my good husband worked on adjusting the tracks for the drawers in my clothing chest. The small repair didn’t go quite as smoothly as he had anticipated. Yesterday, he had to adjust the Lazy Susan cabinet in our kitchen that holds baking supplies, coffee and snacks…that didn’t go very well either, taking more time and patience than he had in mind. Adjusting things seems to be a theme in our home this week and provoked my writing imagination about the very word…Adjustments. 

With the retirement of my husband from his varied careers from age 16 to present, we’ve been “adjusting” as friends describe the process…one friend even says, bathed in a chuckle, “learning how to dance”…you know, moving in sync with your partner…gliding across the floor without stumbling or falling over your feet. Yes, we are “adjusting” which made me ask myself this question–”Just how or what circumstances caused us a necessity to adjust?” In the interest of space here’s a bulleted list that came to my mind–and they may not all be in the proper order.

• Marriage in 1980
• Moved to new area of our State
• Birth of our children in 1983 & 1987
• High school & college graduations for both kids
• Loss of parents & two brothers
• Job Changes
• Surgeries & Illnesses
• 2020 Lockdowns
• Retirement in 2022

And with the last item…we are learning “new” adjustments…discovering idiosyncrasies that “bug us”…(argh) Admittedly, being together almost 24/7 has its beauty as well as challenges. Thankfully the good side of our new chapter in life is outweighing the downside of things.

We’ve had some minor spats. But we’ve also quickly apologized when necessary.

We’ve had more time to spend with family and friends. Being available at the spur of the moment has advantages.

We’ve changed how income is now generated for us. A steady paycheck or two has been replaced by Social Security benefits and my husband’s part time job.

Our aged bodies require a bit more rest, a break from tasks, a new medication here and there, more candles on birthday cakes.

We’re still really “new” in this gig called retirement but we’re making it. We’re learning how to share living space…balancing household duties…respecting needs for privacy or desiring conversations–except during a favorite program we’re watching….that’s still a bit of contention but certainly not a deal breaker for either of us to get real cranky and create another minor spat…

Adjustments come in a wide variety of circumstances during a lifetime. Most are natural. Some are unintentional or a complete surprise. All are opportunities to react or respond….

Distraction comes easy for me. They can come in a variety of forms such as getting caught up in a movie….decluttering a drawer which leads to investigating every drawer in the house to purge junk….scrolling through apps on my phone….gazing out the window on a quiet sunny afternoon. Today, I had my day semi planned…clean the bathrooms, go for a walk, sit down to email an article to our local newspaper and then write my weekly blog. While each of those tasks HAVE been completed, I did have an enjoyable distraction for part of my day beginning at lunch time. Our 3 year old grandson came to stay with Ah-ma for a couple hours while his mom attended a meeting. So, some of my tasks were delayed which was certainly okay with me and admittedly, sitting down to write wasn’t at the top of my goals….I wasn’t truly “feeling” like I wanted or could pen some words today that would inspire or encourage.

But, here I am. And to my surprise, thoughts are flowing…words are falling into complete sentences…the heaviness that was trying to weigh me down and distract me from writing has been lifted by the short company of a busy lil guy….

After our lunch, we donned our jackets and went outside to play. Well, he began playing by himself in the sandbox…I took one look at the hot bed, sighing over the healthy weeds growing in one portion of the beautiful black dirt…made my way to the garage for gloves and garden shovel….about 10 minutes later I had a bucket full of pulled weeds and raked the black dirt smooth. By now, our lil guy was on another adventure of his own and I began to get itchy to go for a walk (exercise is on my daily “to do” list)…

Thankfully, when I suggested we go for a walk, my lil guy was more than happy to oblige and as soon as our feet hit the subdivision road he squealed “Ah-ma, let’s race” and off running he went, lil legs going faster than I could ever hope for at my gramma age….but, thankfully–again–he stopped at a crack in the road and declared “I win!”

We made our way down the road at a nice pace. Every so often we stopped as something caught his attention….whether a rock or tree…a loud motorcycle coming from a nearby road…a plane overhead. It doesn’t take much to distract a toddler and when things do, I’m quick to remember that he’s learning and soaking up new experiences. In my world of familiarity, everything is becoming “new” to him….

Thankfully–again!–he didn’t hesitate or argue when I told him it was time to “turn back”…Even though we were essentially retracing our steps on the way home, he was seeing alphabet letters formed by the tar patch in cracks ….”Look!  A “W”….”  he also counted squares that the tar made…rocks he collected were first used to “repair a hole” in the pavement, but soon made their way into Ah-Ma’s pockets to take home.

I needed a joyful distraction today from recent worries and heavy thoughts filling my head and weighing down my heart. I’m thankful that a lil guy who is still learning and discovering our big world came to spend a couple hours which became a good dose of medicine for an aching mind and soul. 

He’s gone home now. The toys have been put away. The rocks he found and brought inside to “push with his toy bulldozer” have been returned to a flower bed. All evidence of his short visit has been removed…except for the warm memories etched in my mind and heart. I’m keeping those…..

Scariest thoughts and words have begun coming out of my mouth….”we’re at that age….” you know, the “age” we scoffed at when we were in our 20’s living on top of the world…you know, when we could see our toes when looking down a lean frame and even touch them while bending over with ease….body parts didn’t sag….being close to a bathroom wasn’t a necessity unless we were partying to our hearts content or beyond….and probably most concerning is  noting that all my healthcare providers are now the ages of our children….being a “senior” definitely seems to have arrived by all appearances and quite frankly–I’m not ready. I’m not feeling it.

In a previous blog I wrote about my husband’s heart attack that happened January 31. The experience has given us wake up calls, a new level of gratitude, and a list of changes to our lifestyle–mainly nutrition and exercise. Today, my good husband attended his cardio rehabilitation orientation meeting and I tagged along. As I sat in the room full of exercise equipment I found myself making several observations.

• You know how workout gyms have mirrors on every wall? I think that’s so wanna be gorgeous athletes can admire themselves while lifting weights or making sure cute tight workout clothes are accentuating all the right curves. There’s one mirror in the rehab room. I think most people use it to comb their hair or put on lipstick.
• Speaking of cute tight workout clothes that young gals wear so well? Not the case. What I saw were comfy leggings or capris…sweatpants…jeans…

Curves are still there, but well, let’s be honest…the curves have taken on new twists and turns…

• Adorable pony tails or neatly braided hair seem to be popular with young women who are breaking out in a sweat. The only pony tail I saw today was that of a guy who probably came out of the tail end of the hippie era…his pony tail was neatly tucked in the band of his cap…all gray hair, too.
• While most of the gyms are filled with teens and young adults, this place obviously caters to the “over 50 crowd”…only the rehab technicians are young enough to be our kids…

Today was a good experience. We were treated well with great kindness and respect. I can tell already that the folks who come to rehab several times a week are sort of a family. I guess that’s bound to happen considering we were reminded that my husband will attend sessions for 18 weeks–2 to 3 times a week…that’s a lot of work with a lot of people connecting.

Today I met “Miss Esther”. She’s 91 and all of 4’4”. I loved her spunk, her smile, her honesty wondering why she’s “still here”. “Miss DeeDee” was the one to speak up and remind her that “God has a plan for you Esther; he’s got a plan for each one of us”….loved Miss Esther’s response…”Well, the devil’s scared of me and God isn’t ready for me yet I guess”.

Yup, no fancy wall to wall mirrors. No young strong athletic bodies roaming the room from machine to machine. Merely one mirror, two TVs in opposite corners, monitoring equipment for each patient…all there to care for those of us who are “at that age”…and you know what? We’re thankful we’ve made it this far with much more life to live ahead of us!…aged curves…gray hair and all.

SHOES & FAMILIAR SIGHTS

With warmer mornings and promises of days full of sunshine, it’s past time putting away heavy winter coats and boots to usher in well worn athletic shoes and whimsical flip flops!

Toss in some cool water or hot sand to soothe tired achy feet and I’ve got a recipe for being in my spring/summer “happy place”! Sounds rather funny coming off winter and all my cheers for a good snow storm or two! I guess–if I’m being honest–I like EVERY season and what each has to offer….but, back to shoes and familiar sights.

This week the temperatures finally reached the high 60s by mid morning which is my favorite time to get outside. I actually own a pair of New Balance brand running shoes–no paid advertisement here–and these trusty ones keep my feet well supported during my walks that include a bit of running, too. I have a couple of routes that I use for getting in at least a mile or slightly more, depending on direction of the wind…my mood…a need for a change in scenery. 

We’ve lived in our current home for 36 years now. The “scenery” has changed…a sprawling hay field that could yield three cuttings in a good year is now home to a small subdivision…horses no longer graze next door…nor the goats that used to live with them. The empty lot across the road from us is still going through every season’s cycle of decay, new growth….continuing to offer safety for birds, squirrels and deer. Here and there in the undergrowth are wildflowers that poke out, enticing me to pick them, then remembering that’s a big “no-no”. Gone are pheasants….we’ve had wild turkeys come and go–much to our surprise.

As I walk and run along the road’s edge, I still see all the places the pavement has cracked and broken away…the shoulder’s gravel is full of ruts from the mail truck, cars and trucks that have passed by at speeds I consider a bit over the top, but wide enough for me to walk on when passing traffic comes along.

In the mile leading north up our road to a bridge, there are two new homes. One is yet to be completed. It’s tucked inside a beautiful wooded area that will offer its family some fantastic views of wildlife. With every new home built, our 36 year old neighborhood goes through a small cosmetic makeover…changing the landscape of empty lots or heavily treed spots…a new driveway adorned with a mailbox.

South of us is another area being cleared for a group of homes…if all the lots sell we should see 8 new houses…so far, only a paved road and property boundaries have appeared. One of the lots has a huge pile of logs from the big trees that have been removed, making way for a house I guess. I haven’t seen any activity there unless you count the deer who still cross the road making their way into the overgrowth of trees and tall grasses that come with late spring and summer. Theirs are about the only tracks in the dirt on both sides of the black pavement that winds its way to the back lots. 

Today, when I enjoyed my time outside I reminisced about the number of times I’ve walked our road…traffic has increased….familiar trucks still zoom by me and are still courteous moving over to make room for me. We exchange “waves” as a way to say good morning or acknowledge “I see you”. I note the homes where a family has moved, another taking up residence, acknowledging that I don’t know who they are….gone are the days when the school bus stopped at our house to pick up our own two children…the kids riding the bus are all strangers to me now…the mail carrier comes mid mornings now and I “think” I know her name…

I’m thankful for sturdy, familiar shoes made for walking. I’m giddy about being able to wear flip flops now without feeling I’m rushing the season. I’m thankful for our beautiful neighborhood that ebbs and flows with beauty and vitality through all four seasons. I’m excited to see where my New Balance shoes take me this spring and summer, until I have to put them away and drag out my faux fur lined hiking boots….oh. I guess I better go tuck those away…..

I love a good story. The storyline can be from almost any genre–although I admit I’m not fond of “dark” undertones, the kind that border on outright suspenseful to scare me into a sleepless night if I’ve read far into the evening. A good romance lightens my mood or an intriguing mystery leaves me guessing answers to  “whodunit” questions or trying to solve clues along the way of cleverly written words. Yes, I love a good story, whether I’m reading, watching, or listening. 

I’ve done my good share of reading since learning how to enjoy a good book tracing all the way back to childhood. Books were the road ways and avenues to discovering a world full of fantasy…scientific discoveries….biographies of famous people from around the world…libraries were the “internet” of my early childhood and all through high school. I fondly remember my father driving me to a local library after dinner every few weeks so I could check out 4 to 6 books…our city had several libraries…they were magnificent. If I close my eyes I can still smell the aromas from leather bound books lining shelves that filled the large building…the “library quiet” that was taught as proper etiquette while browsing the variety of books…each one waiting to be chosen and devoured back home while curled up in a corner of the room, maybe under a blanket…waiting with each turn of the page for the story to continue unfolding until the last page..when the back cover is closed ever so gently over the words “the end”…

I remember telling my Aunt Em that my favorite word when reading was “suddenly”. Of course she wanted to know the reason. “Well”, I explained. “When the word suddenly comes along it means something exciting is going to happen!” Suddenly, a story can take a twist that catches its reader totally off guard and  continue to pull her or him deeper into the plot…keeping the reader curled in that corner until the words “the end” appear on the last page.

Turn the page of my thoughts thus far to the best book I’ve ever read..the Holy Bible….This book of books–66 in all–has come in scrolls…leather bound editions…paperback form…and is now available through smartphone apps or the Internet. One does not have to leave the comfort of home in order to read words scribed over the course of several thousand years. There are historical events recorded….poems to inspire and encourage….prophets to heed…letters to reveal past and future events…I would dare to guess that the resurrection account of Jesus is the one that tops anything that is fantastical…supernatural…mysterious or intriguing….

If I close my eyes and imagine that it’s late evening on Friday when Jesus’ body is being laid to rest in the tomb…those carrying Him and mourning His death are quiet. Gentle hands wash and wrap his tortured body. He is laid on a slab of stone…tears are wiped away as each one departs the cold darkness which are the only things the tomb has to offer….a huge boulder is rolled in front of the tomb’s entrance. To those “reading” the story, they thought they had closed the book’s cover over the words “The End”….returning to their homes, grief swallowing up life itself and energy, they lay their heads down…trying to sort out the day’s events and pray for rest to come.

And then….the sudden of all suddenlies happens! The security and strength of a huge boulder is no match for God’s resurrection power when the stone is removed from the entrance…the cold slab lays empty except for neatly folded burial clothes…a supernatural twist has taken man’s feeble attempts to kill God’s plan for salvation and instead, launches a movement that the world has never seen then or now, 2000 plus years later. The book covers of THIS story exploded….replacing the words “the end” with “the story continues”….and so it does….

God’s story is one of great beginnings and triumphal endings! His story transcends all time…the alpha and omega plan that is only attributed to Christ is His story alone.  He is present at the creation of the world and He remains for eternity’s time as described in the Book of Revelation.

Yes, I love a good story…and while I have ready many books over 60 plus years, I never tire reading or hearing about the events of holy week…a last meal with cherished friends…a trial under secrecy of night….public torture and humiliation leading to a gruesome death on an enemy’s cross…a tomb with a huge boulder…but the “suddenly” that came two days later and changed the world then and continues to shatter peoples’ lives every day…the kind of breaking and shattering that leads to love, healing, and eternity with Christ…a story that has no “The End”….the back page of this story says “Forever”…..

A good representation here, a lone man on a paddleboard 

navigating waters at sunset.

This is not my personal photo, but captures the beauty of Canyon Lake when I enjoyed a boat ride down and back for 90 minutes.

Spending a week in Arizona–outside of the gloomy gray snowy rainy days that Michigan offers was a welcome relief recently. Boarding a plane in Detroit wearing leggings, shoes, and a warm sweater soon gave way to what Phoenix in March has to offer…sunshine, warm breezes, temperatures that don’t require being bundled under heavy coats and blankets. And! The welcome wearing of flip flops with freshly manicured toes peeking through comfortable shoes the entire week!

Traveling to new or familiar places offers me two of my favorite activities–1) meeting and talking to new people and 2) seeing the beauty of God’s Creation. Both never cause me to feel empty or bored as I venture out to enjoy “down” time.

When it comes to people I don’t know my kids will tell you I “interview”…admittedly, I do. I ask questions. I’m curious. I like filling the void of quiet with conversations. I think my ability to ask and chat makes for a friendlier community and well, world. I learned a long time ago to acknowledge people, especially those who are in a role serving me…as examples…when I approached the kiosk in the airport for my boarding pass, a nice woman greeted me and I returned a cheery “good evening”...I told her I was headed directly to security and she let me know I didn’t need to print my boarding pass. Her name was Holly and I told her “what a pretty name” and she grinned, responding “I like your necklace.”

After Holly I met up with the young man directing travelers through the ropes guiding us to security. Over and over I heard him say “please keep moving. Have your boarding pass and identification ready please.” When I got in front of him I said, “You’d be a rich man if you had $5 for every time you said that!” He laughed, realizing he’d never thought of that equation …”what would you do if you suddenly became rich?” I inquired.

“Oh, I’d quit this job, buy a big boat, take you with me and sail around the world.”

“Goodness…”I don’t think my husband would like that!”

“He can come with us! I’m not that kind of guy….”

He’s young. I really hope he gets that boat someday. And a pretty young woman his age to enjoy waves and sunsets.

Getting through security was a breeze….walking and watching a young couple with a toddler son go through the baggage scanning…the body scan…explaining to him that his “teddy bear” needed to have its picture taken and he could have it back real soon. The little boy’s name was Boston….when all of us got to a chair to put our shoes back on I remarked on dad’s Boston Red Sox hat…the little boy’s name…and advised them that my son in law was a diehard Red Sox fan and named his dog Fenway. Not able to resist temptation, I suggested that a future child could be named Fenway…dad laughed…mom smirked at me with a polite smile but wrinkled face that screamed “don’t give him any ideas’ ‘….beautiful family. Wonder if they’ll discuss my suggestion any time in their future?

Along with quaint conversations is my love for lessons that come through “word pictures”. The man on the above paddle board represents a powerful lesson in strategy for me and came to me after returning back home. My friend Cathy and I enjoyed a boat ride on Canyon Lake and during the return trip we encountered two people on their paddleboards. In the middle of the lake, they paddled with strength and agility making their way back to the boat launch. One of them actually came quite close to our boat as we created a small wake beside and behind our vessel. That’s when I got a good glimpse of the paddle board…its shape, much like a surfboard, a strong cord attached to the paddler’s ankle in case they became disconnected from one another, the lone paddle being dipped and pulling the water back as the athlete glided on the water’s surface. I could see that this sport was not for the timid or weak beginner…the launch was a good way’s off in the distance, strength and endurance was necessary getting back to the safety of shore.

Realizing the effort that goes into the sport of paddleboarding made me think of my own struggles…my recovery working through food addiction…codependency…fear…anger…to succeed I need people to come alongside me. I need the right equipment and the training that comes with the effort. I need practice using my equipment and must do so with diligence after starting slowly and building up to steady as I go….my anchor that keeps me safe and connected to my “board” is Christ…if I fall or get off track He pulls me back…my paddle is the Word of God…scripture is alive, it speaks and is useful for every challenge that tries to force its energy on a weak mind or body….I have people in my life that encourage me or hold me accountable for my actions…the boat launch is God Himself…He is strong, steady, a rock waiting for me to land on, cling to, walk away from troublesome waters and resume my journey on solid ground. Every adventure on my paddleboard–smooth waters or not–is time with God right beside me every stroke of the journey. Difficulties may produce a “wake” that tosses my paddleboard to and fro, but soon God’s calming presence makes the ripples settle down and become part of the water’s looking glass mirror….

People and paddleboards…both offer me a lot of curious and fun opportunities to chit chat my way through a day…learn incredible simple life lessons from the simplicity and beauty of God’s creation and those brave enough to turn a board into the adventure of a lifetime!

CANCELLATIONS….

Ten minutes ago I sat down and tried to write about our current buzzword often heard in news reports whether it be television or radio….”cancel culture” or being “woke”. I had several paragraphs written and there was no magic, no aha moments inside the sentences, what I had written had no spark, no direction, was landing dull and very boring to be quite honest. So, thankfully keyboards come equipped with a “delete” key and I used it. I “canceled” my writing….it was a decision that came after reading through my work several times. I couldn’t convince myself that my work was worth redeeming or changing in the hope that all it was missing could be salvaged. I hit delete.

I wish I could tell you exactly what’s rolling around inside my head today–most days actually–when I have to hear about another person or event offending someone in our nation’s society. I don’t have that kind of time; it’s too exhausting to even think I could do justice to my dismay. Fortunately, I’m not allowing my discouragement to rob me of joy, hope, and peace…..

Recently, I attended the annual IF: Gathering, a conference for Christian women. One of the speakers, Jada Edwards, who was teaching from Psalm 23 “He leads me in paths of righteousness” say “Jesus started cancel culture”. I noted the catchy phrase and bracketed it in my notes. Everything inside me resonated with that declaration from her.

Travel with me to a memory from 2019. We visited Israel in March that year and one of the sites that impacted me the most was Caesera Phillipi. This is the site where many gods were worshiped and Jesus had a conversation with Peter where He asked “Who do say that I am?” Peter responded with “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God”.

I think Jesus and Peter–together–canceled false religions at that very moment. Culture and history as it was playing about some 2,000 years ago exploded with truth and paved the way for God to carry forth His plans of salvation for mankind. Peter’s declaration of defining “who” Jesus was became the cornerstone of the Christian faith, so noted in Matthew 16:18 “Jesus said to Simon (Peter), I also say to you that you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build My church; and the gates of Hades will not overpower it”. 

Jesus met many challenges during His earthly ministry. He exposed motives *He sought peace *He applied scripture *He prayed *He remained silent *He loved

Those are quite worthy attributes to strive for in my humble opinion. How do His challenges meld with my musings today about “cancel culture”? 

I don’t have to accept lies from those in our society seeking to pave paths of unrighteousness.

I can remain in peace while applying scripture in conversations where His truth is needed. I can DO this prayerfully…and sometimes remain silent…until I am asked a direct question that deserves a truthful answer.

 I can love….without compromising or canceling  ALL that I know is truth….the truth of God, scriptures, and His plan for all of us living inside a culture that continues to create false gods and lies—-elevating them above God Himself.

This photo is a good representation of the feeder that stands next to our deck. Keeping seed filled to the brim is a weekly chore as our visitors have grown accustomed to dining to their heart’s content. We get a small variety of birds that perch on the cylinder….sparrows, wrens, chickadees, cardinals, woodpeckers, , blue jays,  juncos….I’m always intrigued by their antics as they jockey for position…flying to and fro from the feeder to surrounding trees in our yard and the neighbor’s, too, along the property line. They come on days of extreme cold as well as milder mornings bathed in sunshine or rain. Hungry appetites and empty bellies need filling.

So it is with me, too. When I wake each morning I have a longing in my spirit to grab my first mug of hot coffee, make my way to a favorite comfortable chair and open God’s Word to begin “dining”–or as I prefer to say–”feasting” on a portion of scripture to fill me and equip me for the day ahead. I never lack for a place to begin reading….using a devotional draws me to verses that most often “fit” with concerns lingering in my mind and heart. Faithfully, God always seems to “fill” my spiritual plate with exactly what I need…never floundering or hovering in a flurry of emotions trying to navigate my “spot” with Him. 

Watching the birds that visit our feeder offers me so many lessons. This past week as I caught glimpses of their activity, jockeying for position to feed, almost competing for a place on one of the several perches, I saw little creatures who have a common goal–get to the seed!  Also, I didn’t see any conflict or fighting. When a perch became available “someone” soon took a seat. Others, less fortunate to be on a perch, happily ate from the seed that had dropped to the ground. In their own way, each small bird found a way to eat and be satisfied.

Part of joy as a Christ follower is being part of a community that is welcoming and supportive through all of life’s challenges. I’m happy to be in such a body of people–my church family–especially men and women who are participating in daily devotionals offered through an app we have downloaded to our phones. The devotional is my own “feeder” and the numerous authors of a broad range of topics have provided endless opportunities for reading, studying, and reflecting on scripture. Like the various birds in our yard, my friends who are participating with me in these daily readings are a beautiful potpourri of personalities….each has his or her perspective on scripture and willingness to share honestly from their hearts how God speaks and inspires them….

I love how the simplicity and order in our little friends at our feeder does more than provide entertainment for me…indeed, they offer me deeper appreciation and understanding of God’s creation…giving me a glimpse of how “things” can and should work….when I do my part: show up…expect….be diligent and hungry….feast at the table He has prepared for me….dine with others who don’t have to jockey position at His table….because at HIS table there is ample room.

And, no one has to eat crumbs from the floor….

Strange question you may ask? Who’s your 2 am friend? Or you might say it this way–who are your friends that you absolutely know you could call at 2 am if something bad just happened to you….

Humans weren’t created to be alone or isolated. There’s no better proof of this truth than what we read in Genesis 2: 18 “Then the Lord God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper who is just right for him.” Along comes Adam’s mate, Eve, in all her beauty and uniqueness as a female to be his companion, spouse, lover, and mother to his children. Together, they became quite the team.

The “second” definition of “community” is a feeling of fellowship with others, as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests, and goals (the sense of community that organized religion can provide) Today I want to expand my thoughts about community and its connection to the concept of having a 2 am friend…or more…

I am fortunate to have more than one 2 am friend. I actually have five such people in my life–all women by the way–and with the wonderful world of text messaging we can interrupt each other’s day with the simplicity of sending out one group  message. We share funny things that have happened in our families. We ask for prayer on a broad range of topics. We are open and honest–most of the time–on a variety of subjects that can cause many people to pull away or feel uncomfortable. We’ve known each other for over 30 years now–give or take a few–and affectionately refer to ourselves as “My Tribe”…one of our dear members calls us her “Warring Friends”….I usually speak of these women as “my tribe”….our daughter calls them “your praying mommas”….

I haven’t written a lot yet about my husband’s heart attack he suffered on January 31. A lot happened that day to prove how much a community of like minded friends….a “tribe” of 2 am friends were important to have in my life. I don’t believe it was ANY coincidence that on that Tuesday our group had been in a text thread for most of the day. Little did I know that at 4 pm I would need them in a way my mind wasn’t prepared for as I drove my husband to the nearest emergency room. Moving past the scene of him being put in a bed, numerous wires hooked up to his chest….hearing as though I was watching a movie “Mr. Kretchman , you’ve had a heart attack”…..”we are going to…..”  That’s when my mind literally went blank but also filled my thoughts with all kinds of questions at once, if that’s even possible.

I will never forget my own image I created around 5 pm. The ambulance team was on their way to another hospital for  Jim’s surgery and I found myself standing alone in the parking lot, holding two bags with his clothes and shoes. Who do I call first? My kids…..now what do I do? I messaged my tribe what had taken place and immediately they began responding “what can we do!?”

Within half an hour or so, Rick and Lisa arrived to drive me south to Trinity Health near Ann Arbor. With them was Deb, who drove my car to her home for safekeeping. The beauty of their helping me in my crisis was their selfless gift of taking care of me and later, loving on our children….going ahead of me (thank you Lisa the Bold!) to ask questions, get me to where I needed to be in a large hospital…my mind racing while still feeling paralyzed.

A recent message by one of our pastors highlighted my topic today…who are your 2 am friends? Our 7 year old granddaughter was with us in service that morning and even at her age she comprehended the idea as she leaned into me and whispered “Addie”….I, too, didn’t have to hesitate long answering the question. Who are my 2 am friends? Easy! Lisa, Cheryl, Deb, Robin, Janet.

Honestly, our “tribe” doesn’t sit around hoping or expecting tough stuff to come along that warrants initiating a group text calling out for help or prayer. We much prefer silly jokes, cute memes, or sharing a link from recipes to sermons…no, we all seek a peaceful blessed life as each one of us walks our journey God has for us. But! We know there is no hesitation to step into action when necessary, even when it means sacrificing time, material possessions, and changing up agendas. For that–and SO much more–I am blessed. I am grateful. I feel assurance that I am NOT alone in this journey we call “doing life together”.

I’m very grateful that God did not create us humans to be alone. I’m happy for modern technology that makes it possible to “call out” to my 2 am friends with one message through a group chat…that God connects me in ways unimaginable for times that are infathmobile. 

Who are your 2 am friends?

WAITING ROOM CONVERSATIONS

Put me in a line of people….a crowded room….a packed elevator….a waiting room….and I’m in my element. Do I enjoy and embrace the agony of “waiting”…standing or sitting for time to pass and deliver its intentions? Most likely not! Which is why my craving for conversation usually kicks in when I find myself in ANY of the above situations. On occasion, I’ve been gently teased or chastised when my “gift for gab” kicks in. I dislike quiet very much. Life is too short in my humble opinion to let a group of people in my midst go to waste…there’s things to learn…questions to ask….answers to be found tucked inside all those minds merely waiting for me to boldly lure them into comfortable lighthearted conversation. It’s an art! It’s a gift inherited by one of the greatest conversationalists of all time–my dad! I learned from the best…and most of all it’s fun and as I like to think….makes our world a wee bit kindler and gentler!

Recently I gave a ride to a very dear friend who needed to see her dentist for an emergency tooth problem. Rather than drop her off and return, I took a chair in the empty waiting room. At first it appeared that no one else was going to be visiting the dentist on this particular afternoon, but soon, that observation was wrong. Within minutes of us arriving a steady stream of people entered through the doors, mostly very young children. A ha! I declared quietly to myself–it’s a day off from school and these wise parents made cleaning appointments for their “littles”.

Two precocious young boys came into the building along with an older woman. She got them checked in and without much delay  both off for their appointments. She sat down near me and we both smiled at one another when our eyes met. I could tell she was tired…yawns and physical fatigue have a way of communicating non verbal evidence of life’s daily toil. “Are you their grandmother?”, I asked.

“Yes”….and the well was uncapped. Without divulging every detail I learned that the two boys “came to her” when they were 4 and 6. “I thought they were doing ok down in Tennessee”….”but I was wrong…I guess drugs took over” …her voice trailed off with an edge of sadness. “Of course I took them, but I’m old. I’m tired. I wasn’t ready for all the things children need…dentists, doctors, rides to baseball…school”…adding to her anguish was admitting that her husband was struggling with the unforeseen raising of two boys after being empty nesters. I listened with what I hoped were understanding eye expressions, an occasional nod in agreement, and lots of smiles, and words of encouragement, especially when they left to go home. “God bless you”, was all I could muster as she got those sweet energetic boys out to the car.

Next up, another sweet grandma with another set of boys, these much younger. The older of the two was in for a dental cleaning, too, and baby brother age 2 was in a stroller–probably for crowd control. Both were in their jammies which I found out later “was how they wanted to dress for the day and I wasn’t about to argue”…accompanied by a precious smile and nonchalant attitude that most grandmas display. She was younger than me and as we struck our conversation she volunteered the boys’ father was 6,000 miles away from home at the moment….her daughter was working and she had the boys for the day…she was very open about her diverse family…telling me the boys’ father is from Zimbabwe–they had brown curly hair and olive skin tones compared to her own features which she told me were East Indian. Goodness, she even told me about her son marrying a beautiful Jewish woman and how that caused some conflict with her orthodox father and this family’s Christian religion but as I listened to her describe her beautiful family I got the sense that “everything was working to the good of everyone”…it sounded like love was the common thread weaving people from different countries and cultures together into one beautiful piece of fabric.

After the waiting room emptied out, I was still waiting for my friend. My mind drifted to this question: I wonder how many grandparents are raising grandchildren? So, as I sat down to write, I did a quick search through the Internet and found the answer is approximately 2.7 million are in that role. Why? Sadly, the most common answer is due to addictions and overdose situations (www.pewtrust) Here are some other stats from www.fathermatter.org.

• 36% of grandparents who are raising their grandkids have done so for more than 5 years.
• Families that have a grandparent raising a grandchild help to save taxpayers over $6 billion each year because they keep those kids out of the foster system.
• 21% of grandparents who are taking care of their grandkids are living below the poverty line.
• Children who are placed with another relative makeup over one-quarter of the foster care system in the United States.

Personally, I have close friends who are raising two grandchildren. They came to their home as very young children and are presently in their teen years of junior and high school. My friends are in their early 70s and though they admit it’s not easy, it’s God’s faithfulness and grace sustaining them every day.

I applaud EVERY grandparent who has or will step in to take on the second go of parenting. Admittedly, I’m not sure I could do it without feeling angry, resentful, selfish…well, you get the picture. From the beginning of time, God’s plan was for parents to raise their children and send them off in due and proper time to establish their own homes. In a perfect world that would be picture perfect…sadly, it is not…as evidenced by my good friends….with my chance meeting with two grandmothers this week, one raising two little boys 24/7 and the other filling in the gaps for a working momma.

My husband and I have four grandchildren, too. We’ve done our fair share of care for working parents and we have enjoyed every minute of their precious time with us…we also admit older bodies take a while to recuperate from playtime, meal preparation, diaper changes, bathing, picking up toys…and though we miss them the moment a parent’s car leaves the driveway and we slump into a chair, we can’t wait to have them in our home again…

Cheers to EVERY grandparent raising and loving their precious offspring. Though I greatly respect these selfless folks, I freely confess it’s a group I don’t want to join…yet, IF for whatever reason I found myself being asked “Can you help with __________?” Would you hesitate to wager my response?

By the way, National Grandparents Day is September 10. I think I’ll mark the calendar–not to expect anything–but rather to be reminded to give a “shout out” and lift a BIG prayer for every grandparent with their “littles”, “tweens” or “teens” living under their loving care.