HEARTS

Here we are in the month of February…much of winter’s harshest days are behind us now….Christmas decorations have been safely stored away for another year…my snowmen are still guarding their spots…soon to be crowded out by the arrival of Valentine’s Day which means cards…hearts shaped candies…chocolates…and lots of love floating in the air. It also means that February is “Heart Month”…something I have NEVER paid attention to in the past but has taken on considerable significance after last week. On January 31 my wonderful husband had a heart attack while sitting in the comfort of our home.

Suddenly, chest pain, sweating and nausea took on an entirely new meaning to the question “how are you feeling?” as he lay back on our bed to take inventory of how and what he WAS experiencing in the immediacy of the symptoms. The next few minutes were a blur as I made a phone call…..got us loaded in my car and sped off to the local hospital which is about 13 miles away. An EKG confirmed our fears and our late afternoon, which is typically spent preparing for a weekly meeting we oversee, changed to one of him getting an ambulance ride to a distant hospital and me arranging my own transportation to follow….AFTER making necessary calls to our children.

The days that followed his attack included three stents being placed in his arteries…gaining a team of doctors and nurses that quickly became our lifeline for four days….sleeping through interruptions from nurses and constant beeping noises of machines monitoring his vitals. I summed up my experience as though I was watching a movie of someone else’s life….surely this wasn’t happening to us. My non-smoker/not overweight/healthy-looking guy stumped the doctors with a need for emergency surgery that saved his heart from severe damage….leaving both of us stunned and grateful–mostly that latter!

Our few days in the hospital have many other wonderful stories that came from our unexpected experience–trauma?–and I’m quite certain they will pop up in my blog in the near future. For now, it’s safe to say we are very excited to be home. Five new medications now line the cabinet in our bathroom….food choices are slowly being reviewed….thank you notes are being written to good friends and pastors from church who dropped everything in their lives to be by our side when we needed friendship and support the most.

So, I’m reflecting on “Hearts”….I have never enjoyed the game of Hearts….I don’t get caught up in giving my guy a gift on Valentine’s Day–although that may change this year?–I will probably send our grandchildren a little card to make them smile and feel loved.  I missed wearing red on the first Friday in February which is supposed to raise awareness about heart disease….red is my favorite color; I think I’ll wear it more often now. But, I DID make a donation to the American Heart Association through our oldest granddaughter’s school fundraiser…good timing on their part I’d say….

Having an issue with one’s heart is never a good thing, but thankfully–when something serious does happen…there ARE wonderful teams of physicians who enter your life unexpectedly and become your February is Heart Month heroes….along with everyone else that you cherish and love very dearly.

BUTTERFLY SOAP & STEALING

My goodness! You say,     what does butterfly soap and stealing have to do with one another? Well, let me tell you why….

“You shall not steal.” Deuteronomy 5:19

When our daughter was about three years old I took her on a quick evening shopping errand to a nearby linens store. Obviously I needed some new things for our home and leaving her home wasn’t an option since my husband worked evenings. Our shopping would be a quick in and out…I knew what I needed. When we got back home I discovered a butterfly shaped soap in the bottom of my bag, a soap that I had not purchased. It quickly occurred to me that maybe a pretty little girl’s eyes had spied something pretty…luring her small hands to put the soap inside my bag when I wasn’t looking after making payment for my items. Kids are quick…moms don’t always see their impish antics.

My question to Sarah about the soap was given an honest answer. Yes, she liked the butterfly soap and took it. She didn’t attempt to cover over her possession of the soap with a lie…honesty came easily which allowed me to have a teachable moment with her.

“Sarah, we need to take the soap back.”

“Why?”

“Because we didn’t pay for it. That’s wrong. It’s taking something that doesn’t belong to us”.

Back to the car we went…buckled her a second time in her car seat….made the short drive back to the store and walked up to the counter, facing the very same clerk who had cashed out my purchase. I placed the soap on the counter, looking into the face of a clerk who was pondering “what is going on…..”

“I need to return this soap. My daughter took it and put it in my bag without me realizing or paying for it.”

“You’re kidding, right?” The clerk provided me with a new definition of the word bewildered. Her eyes were wide with shock and her body was rigid with surprise.

“No, I’m not kidding. She took it. I didn’t pay for it”.

“Well, it’s no big deal…(smiling) trying to dismiss the little stolen soap as nothing to worry about.

“Oh, it is a big deal, to me, and my daughter needs to learn that taking something without paying for it is wrong”.

“Ok…..” (still startled)…

Would you agree that ‘stealing is stealing’ no matter the price of an item? Would you agree that if you take something…get caught….whether you stole out of childhood innocence or outright impure motives…that being caught is the perfect time to teach what is right, especially in God’s eyes? Sure, Sarah was a mere 3 years old…but what if she had been 13 and put something in my bag or her own purse? By then it’s referred to as ‘shoplifting’.

I remember when I was about 8 or so, I stole a pair of pink Barbie doll shoes from the Kresge Store. I put them in my pocket. My mother never found out. She never had the opportunity to teach me that I had stolen something. Silly as it may sound, whenever I placed those shoes on one of my Barbie dolls….I knew….I didn’t feel right inside. In fact, I never used those pink shoes if I was playing in front of my mother because I worried that she’d “know” HOW the shoes came into my possession….. I never told anyone about my own thieving experience until many years later when I thought “I better ask God to forgive me for taking those shoes….” yes, the shoes were small…but the act of taking something without paying can carry consequences if not dealt with properly. Those little pink heels were probably about 69 cents, too, and I’m pretty sure that experience taught me do do better with a 69 cents soap 25 years later.

Maybe you’re asking why I didn’t merely pay for the 69 cent soap and call it good. I guess it was because I didn’t need that soap…but my little girl needed a life lesson and as far as I know, I don’t think she’s taken things that don’t belong to her. If she has and I’m unaware….well, she’s an adult now…God can do some talking to her. Why didn’t I ask my mom if she would buy the 69 cents shoes for me? That remains a mystery….

Last week’s blog entry originated from memories when we moved into our new home where we basically raised our two young children until they became adults and moved into lives of college classes, jobs, creating families of their own. Both their childhoods have provided me with many fond memories, especially conversations as their young minds absorbed information along with comprehending or catching examples that my husband and I were intentionally giving them –or by accident– to grow up loving, knowing and serving God. Ephesians 5:1 says “Imitate God, therefore, in everything you do, because you are his dear children.” (New Living Translation) What does folding laundry and royalty have to do with each other?…

My husband was gone for a weekend, attending a Christian men’s conference. At the time our daughter was 8 and our son, 4. On Saturday evening I found myself alone in our bedroom, folding clean laundry and using the bed as my place to stack the piles of clean clothes…sorting socks to match them….making four neat piles for each one’s clothes….a weekly chore that took a couple of days to stay ahead of the task. 

The kids were either playing in their room or watching a TV program while I performed my laundry duties. In the middle of folding yet another clean towel our four year old son Daniel came bouncing in and announced with no introduction or fanfare “Ya know, mom, dad is the king of the house?” Hmmm, I thought…where’d this come from? Where’s he headed with THIS conversation? 

Perhaps too flippantly I answered “Well, then I guess that makes me the queen”….picking up the next article of clothing to fold thinking he was finished talking. 

“Well, I see dad reading his bible and that makes him a better king.” Gulp. I almost missed the moment. I honestly don’t remember what happened next or if we talked further regarding his observation. All I do remember is being in awe of a spiritual a-ha moment that now–some 30 years later–is still embedded in my memories that serve as an example of “we never know exactly how much our children are ‘catching’ from our everyday routines. “A better king…..”

I also remember that I didn’t use Dan’s four year old observation as an opportunity to preach to him…to hammer down additional truths from the bible that we parents sometimes do in desperation and fear that our children will reject God’s existence and make decisions that affect their eternal lives…no, I also recall feeling very humbled…a blanket of warmth wrapped around my heart as I acknowledged that in the middle of a routine weekly chore, God chose to use a little boy conversation to show me that we were being effective parents–flaws and all.

“A better king….implying that spiritual maturity and growth happens when we meet with God, read the Bible, spend time in prayer. We don’t do it to earn gold stars from God–we do it to deepen our relationship with Him and pass on to our children an inheritance of faith birthed in a Perfect King–Jesus–King of Kings and Lord of Lords,  Who has made a way for all of us to choose following in His footsteps to become “better kings”….and even “queens”….members of a royal priesthood. 1 Peter 2: 9 “But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of Him Who called you out of darkness into His wonderful Light.” (New International Version)

P.S. In his own way now, our Daniel is becoming a “better king”, too. Just like his dad, like his grandfathers….like many in our families who came long before us…laying down a foundation of faith to be caught…taught…observed…sometimes with words and often with silent actions. 

Well, my 69th Christmas has come and gone….it wasn’t the celebration that I had anticipated when we entered the season of Advent…even though preparations for a beautiful day were on time…actually far ahead for me considering I’m a chronic procrastinator at times….gifts were purchased and wrapped, some baking was finished in order to enjoy a cookie or two during coffee breaks….our tree and other decor were in place early in December….all that needed to be finished was waiting for a good snow covering and having our children and grands in our home Christmas Day. Well laid out plans were canceled due to sickness hitting one of our children’s family…so opening gifts and enjoying a Christmas ham were delayed until New Year’s Day. But, those things are not the focus of my entry today. I want to take a look at comparing my current Christmases to some memories and practices that span my 69 years.

• Growing up, our family always had a “real” tree. I remember trudging through the snow with dad–his hatchet in hand–to choose “just the right tree”. This took time because so many opinions were involved, us three kids, dad and mom–if she wasn’t waiting in a warm car!  I was shocked to learn that artificial Christmas trees actually date back to the late 1800s, in Germany. Imagine metal wire trees covered in feathers from a goose, turkey, or ostrich! They were even dyed green to imitate pine needles. In the 1930s the Addis Brush Company created the first artificial -brush trees, using the same machinery that made their toilet brushes! Um, feathers? Toilet brush look a likes? No thank you. 
• I can remember Christmas cards lined up across the mantle above the fireplace in my childhood home. There were dozens from family, friends, dad’s co-workers. Mom was challenged each day when bringing in the mail– where to put the numerous cards that arrived every day throughout the month of December. When we were first married, I loved getting cards and made it a priority of my own to send out beautiful cards to loved ones. The task took up several evenings after dinner, but I felt it was a wonderful tradition to maintain, even when time was tight. Now? This year I think we received less than 12 cards–I’ve noticed that Christmas cards have been replaced with memes posted on social media–hitting every person who opens the app and sees the variety of greetings in their feed. Did you know that the Christmas card originated in England in 1843. Well, that’s what one article says. Hector Cole found a way to take advantage of England’s “penny post” system for sending correspondence. Look it up….maybe people aren’t sending cards for a couple of reasons….time, cost of a stamp. A confession? I sent out six cards this year, all to out of town folks.
• It’s not the extravagance or price of a gift that matters. I saw this when our grandchildren opened their gifts. Don’t get me wrong, they loved what we purchased and put under the tree along with their stockings. My husband gave our two grandsons a penlike magnet that extends for reaching tough spots. Can you guess the results? Yes, all four of the kids took turns seeing if it stuck to a variety of surfaces….an inexpensive purchase at our local hardware created lots of giggles while experimenting.

Christmas is one of my favorite seasons and days of the year. I have many fond memories from all the years that are behind me now…from childhood…early married years…watching our children grow and adding in their spouses and children of their own. We aren’t a perfect family, yet every time we get together on Christmas, there’s always conversations about their favorite memories, too. I’m careful to listen to them…hearing what made this holiday special to them…giggling over some of the gifts they have received….glowing with enthusiasm when giving gifts to us and one another.

Yes, Christmas looks different every year now…and that’s ok….we celebrate the birth of the Christ child…we attend Christmas Eve service at church….I “hope” for snow…and I have yummy treats in the pantry to go with coffee or hot chocolate while I sit by the glow of our Christmas tree–which is an artificial one–missing the years trudging through the snow to find a real one….missing our parents….missing the challenge of displaying oodles of Christmas cards…embracing the beauty of the season while creating memories that will be cherished no matter traditions or not….at least I don’t have “feathers” to clean up or wonder if people think my tree resembles a collection of toilet brushes….yup, we’ve come a long way. 

As I sit here–actually staring at my computer screen–my mind is full of ideas, memories, thoughts, questions, daydreams….it’s three days after Christmas and our family has not celebrated in the usual sense of being together, opening gifts, eating too much food and laughing as we create new memories and reminisce about past holiday get togethers. The tree was up and decorated in plenty of time. Gifts were purchased in early November, wrapped in December…ample time to keep any added stress out of the day as it approached. Things for our family were looking good until…..sickness hit.

My husband and I attended our church’s Christmas Eve service which we always enjoy. Typically, we are by ourselves on the eve of Christmas which is perfectly fine. Our grown children have other family to visit and are creating their own traditions with their kids.  I knew we’d all be together on Christmas Day. Things for our family were looking good until….sickness hit.

Our son, his wife, and their two young children became ill the Monday leading into Christmas. We started to pray and gather hope upon hope that all would be recovered by Christmas Day. Alas, the sacred day arrived and they were still quite ill nor was it truly safe for them to be around other family. So, Christmas in our home was postponed until Jan. 1. Prayers continue. A porch drop with food and medicines was made. Text messages and phone calls have been ongoing to keep everyone in the loop. Did we really skip or miss out on Christmas? Looking at our circumstances from a worldly view might answer that question with a resounding YES. A more honest response–one from a believer’s point of view–is a solid NO. We didn’t miss Christmas….it came as it does every year. Indeed, we were ready with gifts and food. Our minds and hearts were excited to see our kids and grandchildren, especially to watch them open their packages. We were feeling joyful and grateful–two emotions fueled by being with our church family to sing sacred carols, listen to scripture, and end with the lighting of candles in a darkened room that welcomed the familiar words of “Silent Night”. 

Now, three days after Christmas, as I’ve been in a variety of conversations the first question posed to me has been “so, how was your Christmas?” I found myself in a quandary about explaining the circumstances of what should have been a typical December 25. I have come to realize that an honest evaluation of Christmas 2022 is simply this….we didn’t have a terrible Christmas…we are having a “different” Christmas. We haven’t “missed” Christmas–it didn’t pass us by as though ignoring all of our preparations. Christmas 2022 will look different, but our reasons for celebrating, decorating, gify buying, being with church family on December 24 remain steadfast. My husband and I celebrated Christmas. Our children and their families also celebrated, too…even though this year looks different.

Christmas Day can look very different every year, kind of like how I trim our tree. Each year I mix up the ornaments that hang from the branches. The packages under the tree are a variety of sizes and as the kids grow, their gift ideas change, too. We try to keep some traditions such as filling a stocking for each family member…making homemade chex mix…hoping for Uncle Paul’s cheesecake…our daughter in law making “Uncle John’s peanut butter balls”…frosted sugar cookies.

Christmas Day “things” for our family have always been good…even when sickness hit this time around….our joy remained. “So, how was your Christmas?” you ask….”it was good, it was different.” Christmas Day still happened…even with a few family members not around the tree….yet. It will be Christmas Day on January 1 for us this year. I can’t think of a more wonderful way to begin a new year. As long as sickness doesn’t hit again.

Years ago–when our children were young–when the Christmas season rolled around I found myself contemplating what I would begin to collect and put on display to create a festive atmosphere in our home. I gave careful thought to my musings…as a Christian I wanted to present the right message for “the reason behind the season” which is Jesus…I also wanted “something” I could have in our home that could come out “earlier” in cold weather and stay a few weeks past Christmas and New Year’s Day.

I considered angels. They’re beautiful, right? With their golden halos and white wings…some adorned in white robes while others dressed in more elaborate colors and sashes…some singing….some in prayer. No, I told myself–there are “some” people who worship angels or have misconstrued notions about their role in the heavenlies. I discarded that idea.

Then I thought of Santa’s. . Goodness, how many different kinds of Santas and St. Nick figurines fill store shelves every year! And while I think the story behind Santa is an appropriate lesson on caring and generosity, well, in my humble opinion the jolly round red man in a suit has taken much away from the original man we fondly refer to as St. Nicholas…and in some homes, Santa has replaced Jesus as the focus of Christmas and, well,  another well….I couldn’t bring myself to begin collecting Santas. I do confess I have a set of Santa figurines though…inexpensive ones….that belonged to my mother and they do sit on a shelf every Christmas. Afterall, memories from childhood have a dear place in my heart and truly do add to warm thoughts of family traditions.

So, no Santas. No angels. What could possibly remain!  I settled on snowmen! Aren’t they quite neutral? …come in all sizes and materials….foam, cloth, wood, styrofoam, porcelain….So, snowmen it was and continue to be with each winter season.

What if my snowmen could talk? These two little guys are Irish I guess. I purchased this duo years ago when a local businesswoman owned a store that was “all things having to do with Ireland”. Though I don’t have very much Irish in me, I bought them because they were so cute decked out in green scarves, holding a sign with some of my favorite words “Let it Snow”…smiles on their faces which in turn causes me to grin every time I look at them. I do wonder what they are thinking about….

Above my little Irish guys is my patriotic snowman. He wears red white and blue with much pride as he waves his flag in tribute to our wonderful nation, especially to those who serve in our military—past and present. He insists on standing next to war medals that my father earned in World War II and later in the Korean Conflict. I’m very happy that his arm never seems to get tired as he waves Old Glory….and we both are thrilled that “she” has survived many warm months tucked away after all the snow has melted.

Cleaning out my father in law’s home brought this more regal looking man to my collection. He belonged to my father in law’s second wife, Gramma Joan, as we lovingly called her. Joan loved all things wintry and Christmas…she had angels, Santa’s, and snowmen! Dressed up in his wintry best of gold and silver accents, he makes the perfect companion to snow covered trees that I discovered in Joan’s boxes of Christmas decor. I couldn’t toss him or donate him to a place that might never find him a loving home, so he was scooped up by me and seems very content to stand guard by lovely faux pines.

These are but a few of my beautiful snowmen collection. They are quite content every winter. They never complain about where I ask them to stand from November to January….sometimes into February…depending on our snow accumulation. They are happy men and women doing a simple task….keeping our home somewhat festive after the Christmas tree and other decor is safely tucked away for another year. They are conversation starters with all who come to our home for a meal or brief visit….they are fun things to look at and get touched by small hands from little grandchildren.

Their family has ebbed and flowed in number during the past 20 plus years. Some of their friends needed to move on…others didn’t survive a collision with misguided hands…some, well, for some “it was their time” if you get my drift….even snowmen have numbered days or years….

Admittedly my snowman family is a source of yearly light hearted teasing from my husband who will invariably ask about mid January “are the snowmen staying out until Easter this year?” And, true to my nature, I sigh and respond….”well, if there’s snow on the ground, you know…..” and that’s when I wish I had a snowman who’s rolling his eyes. He’d be a portrait of my husband’s demeanor in that moment of giving up…..

Mugs & Mornings

What is it about drinking coffee from a pretty Christmas mug in the month of December as Christmas Day nears its destination.? Children around the world are counting down the days until this fanciful and magical day arrives. Some–like our grandchildren–are using an Advent Calendar to help anxious minds and hearts create a need to be patient in the waiting. 

Gone are the days of using an Advent Calendar with our own children. They are grown now, raising children of their own. Yet, even though those fun days of opening each door on their calendar are gone, leaving me with no anxious little hands or squeals of delight as revealed treasures accompanied by a daily advent message appeared, I still find myself craving to create warm thoughts of Christmas to come…the joys of advent…the peace I feel every morning when I make my way from bed to kitchen for the hot coffee that is waiting (thank you to my husband)...lights on the tree plugged in (thank you to my husband) glowing in our dark living room as the sun is still below the horizon, allowing their brilliance to fill the living room. As I bask in the simple beauty of their radiance, I make my way to a favorite spot to sit…hot coffee poured into one of my several Christmas mugs.

My coffee doesn’t taste any different in a festive holiday mug. Certainly, throughout the year I use a variety of mugs for my morning cup or two of hot java. I guess, it’s the child in me longing to keep Christmas special…a day full of wonder and excitement…the years of trying to guess what was in each package as beautifully wrapped presents made their way from hiding spots to resting under the tree’s decorated branches. 

Maybe my Christmas mug takes me back to cold afternoons when playing outside was my main form of entertainment. Deep fresh snow made way for building forts, snowmen or sliding down a nearby hill…even pulling a friend or two on a sled around neighborhood lawns.

 Once inside to warm up, shake off snow caked mittens, hats and boots, mom would have a mug of hot chocolate ready to warm up little hands, faces, and feet. If I was lucky, a marshmallow or two floated on the creamy brown chocolate….me blowing on it as the steam escaped…cooling it down just enough to enjoy its warmth as it trickled down my throat…warming up my insides with each sip…

This morning, I got on my chair to reach the Christmas mugs on the top shelf…all that were stored away when our last winter began to disappear as snow melted… promises of spring making an occasional appearance….

For the first time this advent season, I sat quietly in the glow of only the Christmas tree lights, sipping black coffee, taking in the simple beauty of our Christmas tree trimmed in red and white lights…red and white ornaments tucked in the branches…red beads strung through the branches.

The floor under the tree is empty except for Christmas stockings waiting to be filled. Presents are still in their hiding places. Wrapping will begin very soon, but for now, I’m content to have coffee in a snowman mug….grateful for another day to reflect on the goodness of God as I “wait” with excitement for Christmas Day 2022.

And tomorrow? Who knows…I’ll  do it all over again. After all, I have about four different mugs  of choice to enjoy my morning coffee….bringing me one day closer to another fanciful and magical day full of wonder and joy.

“Do you like my dress?”

“I like your earrings”

“I like the color purple”

“Do you like Spiderman?”

“Do you like The Hulk?”

“Do you like my hat?”

Where else but a classroom of four year olds can you be asked these simple questions? To their young inquisitive minds, these are very important questions; they come from a world that is simple, not crowded with worries about paying bills or fitting many tasks into the waking hours of each day. No, inside the walls of attending preschool two or three days a week, they live pretty much in a carefree world that consists of playtime….making friends…learning letters and numbers…developing friendships and cultivating cooperation skills for listening, following directions, taking turns, being self sufficient.

I’ve been a substitute teacher a few times now in our church’s preschool–and while I freely admit that working alongside this age group isn’t my favorite cup of tea–it’s been very enjoyable.  I’m thankful that the most in a room at a time is 12 to 14–a reasonable number when it comes to lining up for potty breaks, going outside, and helping to situate little bodies on the floor for circle time. These little ones have been in school for about 90 plus days now and all the routines seem to be pretty smooth now, with the exception of a few who like to push a boundary or challenge their teacher. How quickly our little ones learn to challenge…..sometimes with a certain look that screams “I am defying you!” or as one lit guy told me recently “I don’t have to do what you tell me”. Ya, that didn’t float well…but he gets a gold star for attempting to be his own person in the moment.

It’s fun to observe 12 to 14 different personalities…the boys who run immediately to the box of cars during free time while the girls head off to the kitchen or dress up clothes in the corner…right now there are glass frames to wear…so authentic looking that I’ve been caught off guard asking myself “when did ____ get glasses?–(smile) ….

Coloring or craft projects bring out the true creative artists…the ones who are a bit overboard with perfection even at age 4…the ones who could care less about coloring and scribble their way back to the box of cars or dinosaurs….those who take great pride in their work, showing me how well they can write their name…and yet, again, those who really don’t care about letters right now…there’s too many other important things to be doing….

There are the chatterboxes and there are the ones who don’t talk to me at all…their eyes say it all “I don’t know you and I’m not going to answer your questions “teacher” no matter how much you talk to me….well, at least today I had one lil guy who fit that category. I’ll chalk it up to this morning being the first time he’s had me in the classroom.

I am loving all the conversations I’m having with these sweet little people. To think I was worried I wouldn’t enjoy spending three hours with them every time I’ve been called in, has made way for my mind to be changed and my heart filling with more love and laughter and recently now, lots of hugs…hugs around my knees when I’m standing out on the playground, hugs around my neck when I’m seated in my chair during circle time or working on letter sheets…color pages. 

Today, I found myself imagining what these lil boys and girls will be like when they are older. Many of our former preschool students are now adults who have made their way to college and life with families of their own…now their world is more than letters, numbers, playtime and learning to sit on the floor without wiggling too much or chatting it up with a “neighbor friend”. They don’t need help with stubborn zippers or reminded to cough in their elbow…wash your hands before we eat lunch “friends”….”please lay down…be quiet….go to sleep…naps are wonderful boys and girls”….ah, yes, naptime…..thankfully, we never outgrow the pleasure of a good nap, especially after playing outside in the fresh air for a short recess.

“Do you like my hat and mittens?”

“Watch me run and jump, Miss Sue!”

“Can you open my juice?”

The questions from my little friends are important to their curious minds. And my answers of YES every time tells them I am listening…I care…I am helping to build their confidence.

Today, one of the best lines of music to my ears was “I love you!” as I put on my coat, grabbed my purse and left for the day, telling my “friends” “See you tomorrow!….”I love you, Miss Sue!”….In a few short mornings being with my friends, the “I love yous” are now replacing some of their questions….and I’m perfectly fine with that….my prayer for them includes that they will never lose the ease of telling someone “I love you!”

Footsteps & Retirement

Today is a day full of much reflecting…wondering….remembering….marveling…as today is my husband’s last day of full time employment with his current employer. How in the world did I/we arrive at this destination on the calendar that seemed SO far off when we were but in our mid 20’s….marriage…kids…relocating to another county….all of the experiences that come in between those wonderful events.

Other than babysitting in my teen years, my first true job “in the world” was working part time hours at a children’s zoo. My husband’s first job was at a McDonald’s near his home. From there he had numerous other jobs until he landed a full time position with a community bank in Saginaw, which is where we met….fell in love…got married…well, that’s another story in itself. For today, it’s notable that by his coming to work at the bank, we met and now some 40 plus years later we remain a couple (older, slower & graying), celebrating HIS last day working for a major insurance company as one of their in-house claims adjusters–looking at crashed cars via photos/emails every day….to approve/disapprove estimates for repair or totalled status. 

How did we get here? Psalm 37:23 says “The Lord directs the steps of the godly. He delights in every detail of their lives”. Goodness, do I ever believe these words and certainly have witnessed some twisting and winding steps laid on our path through this life as we know it….

• As I fondly recalled, God bringing my husband to work at the bank where I’d been employed for several years before  meeting him
• Driving us to Covenant Hospital two times to bring our children into the world
• Carrying furniture & boxes into our present home when we relocated in January 1989–can you spell c-o-l-d? And tired.
• Walking our daughter down the wedding aisle…twice…(that’s another story, too)
• Making pizza deliveries without complaining–due to a downturn in business affecting his employment
• Learning a new management position with an auto oil change company during the day…delivering pizza at night and on the weekends–without complaining
• Sitting, beaming with tear filled eyes as our son watched “his” bride come down their marriage aisle
• Every time we drove to football and basketball games near and far to watch our kids participate in school sports
• Every time he helped with one of our aging parents…his grandmother, his brother as he lay fading with the throes of cancer
• Every time he’s willingly volunteered for numerous jobs at our church, above all, being a prayer warrior for every staff member and our church family
• Playing inside or outside with our grandchildren…playground, bikes, snowmen, car washes, tea parties, making pizzas….nighttime book reading & prayers
• Delivering groceries to families who need a little extra help each week

Realistically, this is not an exhaustive list of where God has used my husband and I know that more “memories” will be added as he steps out of full time employment into a waiting world of free etched on a relaxed calendar. The lack of showing up Monday through Friday will now be replaced with some things he enjoys and will have more time to pursue….perhaps more day play dates with grandkids as their schedules allow…day trips here and there…chasing down a wrecked car that can be repaired and “flipped”…providing extra income and satisfaction from using gifts and talents to figure out needed repairs…all which ignite excitement…defining ”it’s all about the ‘hunt’…..

I love how Proverbs 16:9 affirms what the  penned: “A man’s mind plans his way (as he journeys through life), but the Lord directs his steps and establishes them”. (Amplified)

Friends have been teasing us about all of the 24/7 time we will have together now with his retirement…well, my response is “we will be learning new dance steps”…which really means not bumping into each other in the kitchen as we often have a habit of doing without always being gracious about our gentle collisions….hmmm, guess I better brush up on bible verses to remind me about being patient, kind, gentle…..Lord willing, we have MANY more steps to lay down on the paths being laid out for us…and I don’t want to misstep or miss out on those future adventures because of a stubbed toe or bruised feelings!

Once a very vibrant and loving man, a guy who worked hard, served well, and loved unconditionally with generous hugs and whispers of “I love you” in every conversation…slowly in his golden years that had robbed him of no longer able to make simple conversation….those sweet whispers of love that he was accustomed to sharing with loved ones, now gone….eyes that no longer focused to tell him who he was staring at through lens clouded by uncertainty and the fear that comes with reality of immortality…once in a great while, in spite of all that he held in his life’s treasure box, a moment of clarity came when somewhere, deep within his spirit…he was able to whisper “family is everything”.

This handsome humble man who walked under a blanket of soft unconditional love trimmed with ribbons of deep wisdom was my father. When words were no longer forthcoming, his hazel eyes took over conveying the emotions of his heart and mind. Hands often clutched in desperation to make sense of all that was lost….yet one thing remained…and on rare days when clarity was a gift…those soft words “Family is everything” allowed him to communicate all that he desired.

This week is Thanksgiving. For many of us, it will be a day when we are with family that we haven’t seen throughout the year. The table will be set waiting for dinner guests to fill plates with all the delicious foods that have been lovingly prepared. Around the table, each unique personality will take a seat, being a part of the whole that defines “family”. As you look around the table your eyes will land on the host and hostess. They are excited yet tired. Rising early in order to begin preparations, they take a deep breath of satisfaction that everything is ready. Several small children sit on their chairs kicking their feet waiting for mashed potatoes to be passed and “grace” to be said. Laughter fills the air as conversations turn to “who gets to carve the bird?–in past years it was always John, but he’s not with us now. He’s dining at another table…one that was prepared for him before time began…he’s not alone, many beloved family members are with him….laughter once again turns to fond memories of past Thanksgivings with him at the head of the table…cousins reminisce over stories of eating mashed potatoes, stuffing them in cheeks and not swallowing…folks choosing “light” or “dark” meat as a preference…and the debate about Cool Whip versus real whipping cream as the appropriate topping for homemade pumpkin and apple pie. With each bite the Thanksgiving meal will slowly be consumed, filling empty bellies that eventually will coax many to find a comfortable chair to relax and tune out all the banter and echoed sounds of clean up duty.

“Family is Everything”. On this Thanksgiving, my prayer is that all of us–no matter which table we find ourselves–will embrace those who are joining us. There may be the relative who talks too much…or the one who can’t make it through the day without a bottle of wine within reach to fill an empty glass…the one who gets easily offended or angry…the one who is quick to brag about possessions rather than the value of relationships…and the empty chair where the one who detached from any family gathering years ago because of hurt and unresolved relational matters is missing, again…

All of us will be at a table this year. No matter if your family is one that loves unconditionally, where laughter flows easily, where hugs abound, perfection still escapes. Flaws and character defects might be put “on hold”. No two families look alike. There is no perfect family. Not every table will look as though Martha Stewart came to decorate and set up for the hosts. Conversations will ebb and flow…disagreements may come…compliments will abound. Gentle teasing will usher in the whipped cream debate…In true humility, no amount of laughter or arguing will fill the empty chairs around our tables.

Is “Family Everything”? Yes, even with our flaws and disappointments, we are the totality of aspiring love inside hearts that are full…sometimes empty as we long for just one more whisper….”Family is Everything”….

May you enjoy a beautiful Thanksgiving this year…look around your table…hug your loved ones…pray for those who chose to be absent…be thankful for loved ones who set a good example and now dine at a table that  also has empty chairs–chairs waiting for you to fill someday. Your Host is waiting. He’s made all the preparations. He’s ready for you. Are you?