My friend Carol and her family, who has been more like a sister through the years, were the last ones we saw before pulling out - it seemed that we would never get in the car and actually drive away for real. When I hugged her that haze lifted, and the floodgates burst, and continued as we headed down the road. Travis had to carry a sobbing Kullen to the Ryder truck over his shoulder like a limp sack of potatoes. The girls were riding with me and the three of us just rode together crying for the longest time. We would try to talk and end up inciting more tears. Throughout the preceding weeks, I had comforted my kids with reminders that God had a plan for us, that He would bring new friends into our lives - not to replace the ones we had - but to add to our lives, and that this was what was best for our family - how the Lord had opened doors to make this all happen, etc. etc. etc. About an hour down the road, Kendra started to ask me how I knew that God would do all those things - work out His plan, give us new friends, give us another home that we would love. How did I know???? I told her that I knew because He was always faithful. About that time those words were coming out of my mouth - we saw a RAINBOW over the top of the mountain range - the most vibrant and brilliant colors that I have ever seen. We pulled the car off the side of the road - and snapped a picture, bawling our eyes out the whole way - but our tears of sadness and despair had been traded for tears of joy and comfort and peace. We were almost giddy through our tears. The Lord displayed His faithfulness in the same way He showed His faithfulness to Noah, and has continued throughout the ages. Here's the weird thing - it hadn't rained at all that day - - - and when we got back on the road and looked back the rainbow had vanished from the sky!
09 June 2006
A Tearful Goodbye - God's Promise
Two weeks ago today we closed on the sale of our house - and bid a fond farewell to West Virginia. There were a lot of things that happened that I couldn't really write about until now. It was one of the saddest days of my life. I have said many a goodbye in my life, and often had to leave a place without the opportunity to say goodbye - but nothing has ever compared to pulling up roots that have grown 11 years, and pulling taut the heartstrings that are tied so closely the the hearts of some of the most precious people I have ever been priveleged to know. In the end, I just felt like I couldn't say goodbye anymore. I was in a numb haze. My friend Carol and her family, who has been more like a sister through the years, were the last ones we saw before pulling out - it seemed that we would never get in the car and actually drive away for real. When I hugged her that haze lifted, and the floodgates burst, and continued as we headed down the road. Travis had to carry a sobbing Kullen to the Ryder truck over his shoulder like a limp sack of potatoes. The girls were riding with me and the three of us just rode together crying for the longest time. We would try to talk and end up inciting more tears. Throughout the preceding weeks, I had comforted my kids with reminders that God had a plan for us, that He would bring new friends into our lives - not to replace the ones we had - but to add to our lives, and that this was what was best for our family - how the Lord had opened doors to make this all happen, etc. etc. etc. About an hour down the road, Kendra started to ask me how I knew that God would do all those things - work out His plan, give us new friends, give us another home that we would love. How did I know???? I told her that I knew because He was always faithful. About that time those words were coming out of my mouth - we saw a RAINBOW over the top of the mountain range - the most vibrant and brilliant colors that I have ever seen. We pulled the car off the side of the road - and snapped a picture, bawling our eyes out the whole way - but our tears of sadness and despair had been traded for tears of joy and comfort and peace. We were almost giddy through our tears. The Lord displayed His faithfulness in the same way He showed His faithfulness to Noah, and has continued throughout the ages. Here's the weird thing - it hadn't rained at all that day - - - and when we got back on the road and looked back the rainbow had vanished from the sky!
My friend Carol and her family, who has been more like a sister through the years, were the last ones we saw before pulling out - it seemed that we would never get in the car and actually drive away for real. When I hugged her that haze lifted, and the floodgates burst, and continued as we headed down the road. Travis had to carry a sobbing Kullen to the Ryder truck over his shoulder like a limp sack of potatoes. The girls were riding with me and the three of us just rode together crying for the longest time. We would try to talk and end up inciting more tears. Throughout the preceding weeks, I had comforted my kids with reminders that God had a plan for us, that He would bring new friends into our lives - not to replace the ones we had - but to add to our lives, and that this was what was best for our family - how the Lord had opened doors to make this all happen, etc. etc. etc. About an hour down the road, Kendra started to ask me how I knew that God would do all those things - work out His plan, give us new friends, give us another home that we would love. How did I know???? I told her that I knew because He was always faithful. About that time those words were coming out of my mouth - we saw a RAINBOW over the top of the mountain range - the most vibrant and brilliant colors that I have ever seen. We pulled the car off the side of the road - and snapped a picture, bawling our eyes out the whole way - but our tears of sadness and despair had been traded for tears of joy and comfort and peace. We were almost giddy through our tears. The Lord displayed His faithfulness in the same way He showed His faithfulness to Noah, and has continued throughout the ages. Here's the weird thing - it hadn't rained at all that day - - - and when we got back on the road and looked back the rainbow had vanished from the sky!
08 January 2006
Don't Take it For Granted
This morning my husband and I were having a conversation about the mining accident in West Virginia. Having worked in construction for the majority of his adult life, he knows what hard manual labor is like. And through the years he has experienced his share of accidents. He was hit in the face with a mortar mixer the week I met him in 1988. Later he had the end of his finger cut off. And when I was pregnant with Kaitlyn in 1993, I got a call in the middle of the night saying he had been electrocuted - putting him in cardiac intensive care for three days. (That's actually a funny story now - I was so shocked and half-asleep that I hung up the phone without finding out which hospital he was in!)
One thing we discussed is this human propensity for blame placing. We all tend to want to put the blame somewhere when we are hurting. I don't know why that is, but I have experienced this myself on a smaller scale. For instance, if I stub my toe on something, I want to yell at the person standing nearest to me. I see my children do exactly the same. My daughter got her finger slammed in the van door, and because I was talking to her at the time, she blamed me - even though what I was saying was "Get your fingers out of the door!" With this in mind, imagine the blame placing, hurting and lashing out families will do when their loved ones are lost in such a tragic accident. The media just fuels the fire, stoking the flames with more kindling, and in spite of their claims to sympathy for the grieving families, they are actually the ones continuiously picking the scabs off of wounds that will be trying to heal.
Now, let me be clear that I don't know anything about how this accident happened. I did see the CEO/President of International Coal begin his press conference choking back tears and saying, "Welcome to the worst day of my life." He seemed very sincere to me, but admittedly I don't know what happened.
I know well that sometimes employers are negligent. In two of the accidents I mentioned above, the mortar mixer and the machine Travis was working on when his finger was cut off, the employers involved removed safety devices that would have prevented his injuries. Travis was annoyed by a comment he heard from someone on the news that they couldn't understand how mining accidents still happened today. All blue collar work has risks involved. Perhaps this is a good reminder that daily we benefit from things that people risk their safety so that we can have. Don't take it for granted.
One thing we discussed is this human propensity for blame placing. We all tend to want to put the blame somewhere when we are hurting. I don't know why that is, but I have experienced this myself on a smaller scale. For instance, if I stub my toe on something, I want to yell at the person standing nearest to me. I see my children do exactly the same. My daughter got her finger slammed in the van door, and because I was talking to her at the time, she blamed me - even though what I was saying was "Get your fingers out of the door!" With this in mind, imagine the blame placing, hurting and lashing out families will do when their loved ones are lost in such a tragic accident. The media just fuels the fire, stoking the flames with more kindling, and in spite of their claims to sympathy for the grieving families, they are actually the ones continuiously picking the scabs off of wounds that will be trying to heal.
Now, let me be clear that I don't know anything about how this accident happened. I did see the CEO/President of International Coal begin his press conference choking back tears and saying, "Welcome to the worst day of my life." He seemed very sincere to me, but admittedly I don't know what happened.
I know well that sometimes employers are negligent. In two of the accidents I mentioned above, the mortar mixer and the machine Travis was working on when his finger was cut off, the employers involved removed safety devices that would have prevented his injuries. Travis was annoyed by a comment he heard from someone on the news that they couldn't understand how mining accidents still happened today. All blue collar work has risks involved. Perhaps this is a good reminder that daily we benefit from things that people risk their safety so that we can have. Don't take it for granted.
04 January 2006
Even for the Likes of These - Book Review of Blue Like Jazz
I just read a book called Blue Like Jazz by a guy I never heard of named Donald Miller. One friend recommended it, and then another mentioned it in something that she was saying, and one night at the mall with a bunch of my girlfriends, 
amid all the hustle and bustle, somewhere in my scrambled eggs I officially called my brain, I decided I need to read something that provoked me to think. Every mall has a bookstore, so I went in search of this book with a title my eight year old thinks is weird, and the hunter in me was satisfied. Those who know me know that my library card is one of my most treasured possessions. I love used book sales and amazon.com, and have found many a gold mine at Goodwill, flea markets, yard sales and antique shops, but I NEVER, almost ever buy a book brand new. I paid full price at the mall for this book, and I will never regret it. There are so many thoughts I have had over the years that I have never been able to put in words, and Mr. Miller does says them in such an easy-going, matter-of-fact way. Here is an excerpt from a chapter about "the church" that was so right on to me.
One thing I think can be read wrong or misinterpreted in this sampling from the book - when he says that God wants us to love hippies and liberals - I do not read this to say that we are to tolerate the sin of homosexuality, or drug use, but to look past that to the human soul that is valued, and loved by God - enough that He would send His Son to die - even for the likes of these.
amid all the hustle and bustle, somewhere in my scrambled eggs I officially called my brain, I decided I need to read something that provoked me to think. Every mall has a bookstore, so I went in search of this book with a title my eight year old thinks is weird, and the hunter in me was satisfied. Those who know me know that my library card is one of my most treasured possessions. I love used book sales and amazon.com, and have found many a gold mine at Goodwill, flea markets, yard sales and antique shops, but I NEVER, almost ever buy a book brand new. I paid full price at the mall for this book, and I will never regret it. There are so many thoughts I have had over the years that I have never been able to put in words, and Mr. Miller does says them in such an easy-going, matter-of-fact way. Here is an excerpt from a chapter about "the church" that was so right on to me. One more thing that bugged me, then I will shut up about it. War metaphor. The churches I attended would embrace the war metaphor. They would talk about how we are in a battle, and I agreed with them, only they wouldn't clarify that we were battling poverty and hate and injustice and pride and the powers of darkness. They left us thinking that our war was against liberals and homosexuals. Their teaching would have me believe I was the good person in the world and the liberals were the bad people in the world. Jesus taught that we are all bad and He is good, and He wants to rescue us because there is a war going on and we are hostages in that war. The truth is we are supposed to love the hippies, the liberals, and even the Democrats, and that God wants us to think of them as more important than ourselves. Anything short of this is not true to the teachings of Jesus.
I was nearly in tears when I read this paragraph and was convicted about the way Satan gets us sidetracked, so that we aren't even fighting the real battles. I have seen so much division between people over things that have no bearing in eternity, and I think that as long as we stay encapsulated in our little "churchianity" there is no blood, sweat and tears ministering to the world around us. We like it clean and tidy, sanitary. We don't want anything contaminated to touch our world, our minds, our children. Yes, we should be in the world and not of it. But like this author said, if we are truly to be Jesus to those in the world around us, we need to model our lives after His - He never shied away from anybody. One thing I think can be read wrong or misinterpreted in this sampling from the book - when he says that God wants us to love hippies and liberals - I do not read this to say that we are to tolerate the sin of homosexuality, or drug use, but to look past that to the human soul that is valued, and loved by God - enough that He would send His Son to die - even for the likes of these.
03 January 2006
Part of My Heart Goes to Iraq
This is my brother Rob. Okay sure he is handsome and all that good stuff. He is 34 - and happily married to his wife of more years than I should probably give away. He is the guy that three awesome kids named Travis, Haley and Zachary call "Daddy". Right now, as I type this, he is probably on an airplane - destination: Iraq for his second tour of duty. I know there are so many courageous, talented, extraordinary men and women overseas - protecting and defending our many, many freedoms. They are all so very special, and as believers we should be taking them daily to our Lord - for protection, companionship when they are lonely, courage when they're afraid, inspiration when faced with challenges, strength when they feel weak and tired, and the Presence of the Almighty when they are homesick and alone.
This hits a bit close to home for me because this MY little brother. To help you understand, travel back in time with me 30 years - and see a little blonde headed boy wearing footie pajamas, standing on kitchen chairs next to his brown headed sister, very close to the same size - looking out the window at the snow, blowing their breath on the glass and drawing pictures. A few years later, imagine these same two children in elementary school, being picked up by their dad and driven to a hardware store where they would spend the afternoon in a back room while their dad moves the entire contents of their family home to an apartment that he rented in another city. Later, they sit together on a bench in a long, stoic hallway as their parents separation agreement is issued by a judge, and forever their hearts are torn by a word called divorce. All these two really had consistently for years afterwards was each other.
When we were small, I was the big sister - I was his caretaker and protector. I was the only one that understood what he wanted when he broke his leg at three years old and refused to talk. I was the one that made him use the bathroom before our attempt to run away together to our dad's when we were 7 and 8 years old. I was the one that held his hand on an airplane as we flew through a lightening storm while he cried. I was the one that he talked to when he was so confused about our parents, and life and knew I was the only one who would truly understand.
Somewhere along the way, this little boy that I love so much became and extraordinary man. When our grandparents died four days apart in 1991, he was a brand new father, and I was expecting my first child. I remember how grown up and handsome and strong he looked that day at the funeral home in his Air Force uniform. He held me up while I cried unconsolably. Tonight when I go to sleep, I will ask the Lord to protect him while he is away from us - far from family, home and country. But, I will feel a little safer because what he is doing is so important to him that he was willing to risk it all, and I know how capable he is to do his job well.
God bless you Rob! You are on my heart and in my prayers.
02 January 2006
NEW Year - or Is It?
Our family got together with some of our closest friends on New Years' Eve to celebrate the closing of what was a very difficult year for our family. Within our family of five we love and support one another, but outside of our little home, this has been a year of tremendous changes.
My friend and I were sitting just after midnight around her kitchen table. All the goodies we made had been consumed - the pepperoni bread, bean dip (I got this from a blog on Homesteadblogger and it was AWESOME!) and Chinese donuts -- all the cherries were gone and rolling around in the bottom of half consumed Shirley Temples. Our discussion was about whether it really is a NEW year, or just a continuation of the same. If you think about time in relation to eternity the way the Lord sees it, there really is no starting and stopping points.
Long before this discussion, I decided this year, I would make no New Years' resolutions. Any changes that I were to make, or that I would yield enough of myself for the Lord to make in me, would not be for a year - but for a lifetime. This first conversation of the "new year" really pulled everything I was thinking together, and solidfied my thoughts. Whether it is January 1st or June 19th or October 7th - if you know something in your life, your family, your home needs some alteration - THAT is the day to resolve it in your heart - and make the difference. When the Lord brings something to your attention - there is no time like the present to address that issue, and begin anew.
I don't want to be a bummer to anyone that has truly committed in their heart to make a much needed change in their lives. I have many areas where the Lord is helping me through the refining process. My desire is to encourage anyone who now realizes it is January 2nd, or 7th, 18th or 23rd - or maybe you were searching my Archives and found that today is August 12, 2009 - TODAY can still be the place where everything turns around!
A Happy and Blessed New Year to each and every one of you!
Much love - Julie
My friend and I were sitting just after midnight around her kitchen table. All the goodies we made had been consumed - the pepperoni bread, bean dip (I got this from a blog on Homesteadblogger and it was AWESOME!) and Chinese donuts -- all the cherries were gone and rolling around in the bottom of half consumed Shirley Temples. Our discussion was about whether it really is a NEW year, or just a continuation of the same. If you think about time in relation to eternity the way the Lord sees it, there really is no starting and stopping points.
Long before this discussion, I decided this year, I would make no New Years' resolutions. Any changes that I were to make, or that I would yield enough of myself for the Lord to make in me, would not be for a year - but for a lifetime. This first conversation of the "new year" really pulled everything I was thinking together, and solidfied my thoughts. Whether it is January 1st or June 19th or October 7th - if you know something in your life, your family, your home needs some alteration - THAT is the day to resolve it in your heart - and make the difference. When the Lord brings something to your attention - there is no time like the present to address that issue, and begin anew.
I don't want to be a bummer to anyone that has truly committed in their heart to make a much needed change in their lives. I have many areas where the Lord is helping me through the refining process. My desire is to encourage anyone who now realizes it is January 2nd, or 7th, 18th or 23rd - or maybe you were searching my Archives and found that today is August 12, 2009 - TODAY can still be the place where everything turns around!
A Happy and Blessed New Year to each and every one of you!
Much love - Julie
29 December 2005
Love and Joy Come to You
This Christmas was a particularly peaceful one. Being a family of five high strung, high energy, rambunctious, boisterous people, friction is easily achieved, most times without even trying. There have been some years with so much stress from unemployment, unmet expectations, and undue pressures, that it doesn't feel very happy at all. This year really stood out as a Christmas of peace, joy and togetherness. From my last two posts it may seem that I have been sad - but this sadness has only hit me in the days following Christmas. Christmas Day itself was very special. Some of the things that were different were -
- Instead of complaining either audibly or in my heart that Christmas is sooooo much work for moms that we need a vacation afterwards just to recover, I asked the Lord to give me a servant's heart toward my family.
- Instead of hoping for my husband to read my mind and find that special something that he knows I will just love, I got real and accepted that he won't know what I want if I don't tell him. (Honestly I rarely know what I want! How can I expect him to know!)
- Instead of looking for what I could get, I focused and concentrated what I could give - and found this to be the greatest blessing of all. This was found in both time spent, presents purchased, and experiences shared.
I have realized over the last couple of years that I can be very demanding. When is see my kids behaving in a way that says they feel entitled, the Lord gently points to who has taught them to have a heart groomed for discontentment. This was a monumental, groundbreaking year for our family - and I am so thankful to be able to say that it was me the Lord did the work in. I pray these are lessons learned I never forget.
- Instead of hoping for my husband to read my mind and find that special something that he knows I will just love, I got real and accepted that he won't know what I want if I don't tell him. (Honestly I rarely know what I want! How can I expect him to know!)
- Instead of looking for what I could get, I focused and concentrated what I could give - and found this to be the greatest blessing of all. This was found in both time spent, presents purchased, and experiences shared.
28 December 2005
I Miss My Mom - CAUTION Revealing Post
This is indeed going to be a very revealing post about me. Perhaps because it's late, and I am feeling a bit vulnerable - but my heart is on my sleeve. Maybe I'll chicken out and never click the "add new entry" button, or even get up and delete it in the morning. If not, read with caution - there may be some things in here you just don't want to know, and if you comment, please comment gently, because my in this area, my heart is very delicate.
I grew up with a mentally ill mother. There it is - in black and white - I typed it. I have said it many times, but to put it down in black and white seems to make it more permanent somehow. I spent many years trying to cover up this simple fact, but the truth is that it really was never simple at all. As I have gotten older, and realized how abnormally she behaved, and how out of the ordinary our lives were, and refused any longer to live in the viscious cycle, things have gotten much more complicated.
A few years ago, right around this time - a few days after Christmas, my mom had a gastric bypass - but I didn't know about it because she wasn't speaking to me. (This is all a part of the cycle.) Within 48 hours of her surgery all of her major organs were failing, and a cousin called to tell me that my mother was in a coma. A girlfriend drove me the several hour trip to the hospital where she had the surgery, to see an unrecognizable form laying in a bed with every machine known to man hooked up to keep her alive. Early the next morning, I woke both my friend and myself up sobbing out loud in my sleep, crying over my mom.
For the next three months, every Sunday afternoon, my children and I took our little homeschool on the road. On Friday nights, when I would confirm that within a few hours my step-father would arrive to be by my mother's bedside, I would head home - to grocery shop, make 15 sandwiches for my husband (he eats 3 a day for 5 days!), and cook all our meals for the coming week - so my husband could also have a homecooked meal every night. I stayed by my mom's bedside, loving her the only way I knew how - bathing her, feeding her, putting her on a bedpan, learning to lift her out of bed, helping with her physical therapy, and just being a companion. I wish I could say that this made a difference in our relationship and in her heart - but, the same woman that had not spoken to me for a year or so preceding the surgery returned. It was just devastating.
So it has been for most of my adult life. I just celebrated the second Christmas in a row without her speaking to me. There are never any reasons that make sense to anyone else, so I will spare you, kind readers, the details. Fortunately, I am no longer a captive in the torture that befalls one living with a mentally ill person. There were times when I thought I was going crazy because the person in my life I most trusted would be so out of alignment with everything that seemed right and true. When I became a believer ten years ago, I really gave my heart, even the broken, confused and sick parts to the Lord and He alone has done a tremendous work there. But deep down inside, is a little girl who still needs a mom, and I am sad because I know she needs me too. I have tried to call her several times recently to no avail. I am reminded that the Lord says He will be a "Father to the fatherless", and I cling to that when I am hurting. But if you talk to Him, could you put in a word for me and tell Him, I miss my mom?
I grew up with a mentally ill mother. There it is - in black and white - I typed it. I have said it many times, but to put it down in black and white seems to make it more permanent somehow. I spent many years trying to cover up this simple fact, but the truth is that it really was never simple at all. As I have gotten older, and realized how abnormally she behaved, and how out of the ordinary our lives were, and refused any longer to live in the viscious cycle, things have gotten much more complicated.
A few years ago, right around this time - a few days after Christmas, my mom had a gastric bypass - but I didn't know about it because she wasn't speaking to me. (This is all a part of the cycle.) Within 48 hours of her surgery all of her major organs were failing, and a cousin called to tell me that my mother was in a coma. A girlfriend drove me the several hour trip to the hospital where she had the surgery, to see an unrecognizable form laying in a bed with every machine known to man hooked up to keep her alive. Early the next morning, I woke both my friend and myself up sobbing out loud in my sleep, crying over my mom.
For the next three months, every Sunday afternoon, my children and I took our little homeschool on the road. On Friday nights, when I would confirm that within a few hours my step-father would arrive to be by my mother's bedside, I would head home - to grocery shop, make 15 sandwiches for my husband (he eats 3 a day for 5 days!), and cook all our meals for the coming week - so my husband could also have a homecooked meal every night. I stayed by my mom's bedside, loving her the only way I knew how - bathing her, feeding her, putting her on a bedpan, learning to lift her out of bed, helping with her physical therapy, and just being a companion. I wish I could say that this made a difference in our relationship and in her heart - but, the same woman that had not spoken to me for a year or so preceding the surgery returned. It was just devastating.
So it has been for most of my adult life. I just celebrated the second Christmas in a row without her speaking to me. There are never any reasons that make sense to anyone else, so I will spare you, kind readers, the details. Fortunately, I am no longer a captive in the torture that befalls one living with a mentally ill person. There were times when I thought I was going crazy because the person in my life I most trusted would be so out of alignment with everything that seemed right and true. When I became a believer ten years ago, I really gave my heart, even the broken, confused and sick parts to the Lord and He alone has done a tremendous work there. But deep down inside, is a little girl who still needs a mom, and I am sad because I know she needs me too. I have tried to call her several times recently to no avail. I am reminded that the Lord says He will be a "Father to the fatherless", and I cling to that when I am hurting. But if you talk to Him, could you put in a word for me and tell Him, I miss my mom?
Don't Make Bean Soup!
Yesterday, I made a big pot of Navy Bean with Ham soup. It was a recipe my mother shared with me that she learned from my Memaw and Grandy - my dad's parents. I hadn't made it in years, and I forgot how much I like it. It is really rich, and hearty, with navy beans, ham, carrots, celery, onions and potatoes. The smell of it cooking in the house was wonderful.
While I was cooking, I was overwhelmed with thoughts of my grandparents, and how much I miss them. They died four days apart, Memaw first, followed by Grandy in 1991 when I was pregnant with my first child. Their deaths so close together were very traumatic for our whole family. Grandy had battled lung cancer and emphysema for many years and was hospitalized for several weeks preceding his death. My Memaw's death was a little more unexpected, being up one night sick and rushed to the hospital. But what was significant about their lives was not their deaths, as eternally etched in my memory are the phone calls from my dad long distance breaking the news and the sight of a funeral home overflowing with people and flowers where two caskets sat at the far end of a long room. What is significant is the lives that they lived and how they impacted the people who loved them.
My Grandy owned a barber shop, perhaps a contributing factor the emphysema that he struggled with later in life from inhaling small hair particles all those years. His barber shop was the men's club of the small town Damascus, Maryland that they lived in. He knew everybody, young and old in that little town, and they all knew him.
My Memaw was the mother to two sons, born ten years apart, my dad being the younger of the two. She was a twin, and her mother died shortly after giving birth to her and her sister. The girls were raised by their father, who I understand remained single, and their oldest sister, my great Aunt Lib. Memaw went to work as a nanny at a young age, before meeting and marrying my grandfather. I think that she must have missed out on the gentle, loving touches a mother brings to a child's life, because she was never very affectionate - yet you always knew she loved you.
My grandparents were anchors for me in a very tumultuous childhood and adolescence. I wish I had spent more time with them when they were alive, but being young I knew very little of what a precious opportunity I was letting slip away. As I grew up I bounced back and forth between my divorced parents, but my grandparents never gave up on me, never stopped loving me, and even when they would get discouraged with some of my instability, I never felt diminished in their eyes. My one regret is that they never had a chance meet my children or to see the woman I have grown into.
So here is a little warning - one day you decide to make soup, and the next thing you know you are crying. As you watch your hands use the knife on the cutting board, in your minds' eye you see your grandfather at the kitchen counter chopping onions, and then your heart is aching for missing two people that were very precious to you. Don't buy ham, don't buy navy beans, and don't make soup! It'll make you way too sad.
While I was cooking, I was overwhelmed with thoughts of my grandparents, and how much I miss them. They died four days apart, Memaw first, followed by Grandy in 1991 when I was pregnant with my first child. Their deaths so close together were very traumatic for our whole family. Grandy had battled lung cancer and emphysema for many years and was hospitalized for several weeks preceding his death. My Memaw's death was a little more unexpected, being up one night sick and rushed to the hospital. But what was significant about their lives was not their deaths, as eternally etched in my memory are the phone calls from my dad long distance breaking the news and the sight of a funeral home overflowing with people and flowers where two caskets sat at the far end of a long room. What is significant is the lives that they lived and how they impacted the people who loved them.
My Grandy owned a barber shop, perhaps a contributing factor the emphysema that he struggled with later in life from inhaling small hair particles all those years. His barber shop was the men's club of the small town Damascus, Maryland that they lived in. He knew everybody, young and old in that little town, and they all knew him.
My Memaw was the mother to two sons, born ten years apart, my dad being the younger of the two. She was a twin, and her mother died shortly after giving birth to her and her sister. The girls were raised by their father, who I understand remained single, and their oldest sister, my great Aunt Lib. Memaw went to work as a nanny at a young age, before meeting and marrying my grandfather. I think that she must have missed out on the gentle, loving touches a mother brings to a child's life, because she was never very affectionate - yet you always knew she loved you.
My grandparents were anchors for me in a very tumultuous childhood and adolescence. I wish I had spent more time with them when they were alive, but being young I knew very little of what a precious opportunity I was letting slip away. As I grew up I bounced back and forth between my divorced parents, but my grandparents never gave up on me, never stopped loving me, and even when they would get discouraged with some of my instability, I never felt diminished in their eyes. My one regret is that they never had a chance meet my children or to see the woman I have grown into.
So here is a little warning - one day you decide to make soup, and the next thing you know you are crying. As you watch your hands use the knife on the cutting board, in your minds' eye you see your grandfather at the kitchen counter chopping onions, and then your heart is aching for missing two people that were very precious to you. Don't buy ham, don't buy navy beans, and don't make soup! It'll make you way too sad.
Why I LOVE Blogging
You know you've been spending too much time on the computer when you find yourself reading a book, you know the kind with paper and ink, and you want to scroll your finger over words, hoping for something highlighted so you can click on it and go find out MORE! So with the Christmas holidays fast approaching, I found that I needed to tend to my blog a little less, and the tasks at hand, the celebrations and traditions, and to time with my family a little more. So my blog has been relatively simple these past couple of weeks - not a lot of deep thoughts or sharing my heart. Being someone that loves to write, I am probably going to FREAK OUT if I don't write something I consider significant soon. When I say significant, I don't mean necessarily to anyone else, but something that is satisfying to my own soul. It is all the better when you get other people thinking, writing and sharing their thoughts or opinions - which is why I love blogging! My friend Joanne titled her blog aptly "Cheaper Than Therapy"! I couldn't agree more!
22 December 2005
Christmas Traditions
I was replying to an email from KarenW and asking her questions about how her family celebrates Christmas. They are stateside this year, but I was wondering if they'd picked up anything interesting in Romania, or how their family in Alabama celebrates Christmas.
Growing up with divorced parents, from year to year, things were seldom the same. I have picked up some things from both parents and step-parents that I have implemented into how our family celebrates Christmas. We generally tend to be the first family in our neighborhood to put up our tree. Neither my children or I can wait, and honestly I don't care what anybody thinks anymore. Jesus said to enter His Kingdom you must become like a little child - and when it comes to celebrating His birthday - I am usually worse than the kids. We bake Christmas cookies with some dear friends. On Christmas Eve we go to my friend/adopted "big sister", Carol's house and celebrate with her family - husband-Andrew, daughter-Brenna and dog-Emma. There is always shrimp, and tons of good, beautiful baked goods because Carol is absolutely, without a doubt the best baker in the entire world. We usually go to a candlelight service for Christmas Eve - except for one year when we had a terrible snowstorm. Then we come home and always let our children open one present on Christmas Eve - NEW pajamas! (I figured out early on that this makes them look all nice and shiny in their Christmas pictures - unless somebody barfs on them in the middle of the night but I'm not mentioning any names! Kendra!!) We either snuggle up together on the couch and read the Christmas story from Luke. Before going to bed, the kids set out Christmas cookies and milk for Santa, and carrots for the reindeer. We have been known to tuck them in bed and listen to sleigh bells ring outside their window!
On Christmas morning, our children always wake and open their stockings first thing. My husband is a bit overbearing with the video camera, and insists that they wait to see what is under the tree until he is all set up to capture every single wide eyed, bedhead framed expression. We make a pot of coffee and put on some Christmas music, and if we can get the insane camera man to put the camera on a tripod, we all sit around in our jammies and enjoy watching each other open presents. The rest of the day is usually pretty laid back - for everyone but me! I spend most of the afternoon in the kitchen - and eventually we have a nice meal and watch a movie, play a game or continue assembling, or deconstructing the packaging of some of their gifts. Last year we went in the evening to visit some friends who will be out of town this year - but that was a very nice addition.
My husband grew up in Texas - and one of the things his HUGE-mongous family usually did to celebrate Christmas was set off fireworks. You can't even buy them where we live this time of the year.
Every family has ways of celebrating that are unique and special to them. Some of our traditions will stay the same when (Lord willing!) we move to Texas and others will sadly be set aside. (We will miss you terribly Carol, Andrew, Brenna and Emma!) I just thought I'd share, and ask YOU to tell me how YOUR family celebrates CHRISTmas!
Growing up with divorced parents, from year to year, things were seldom the same. I have picked up some things from both parents and step-parents that I have implemented into how our family celebrates Christmas. We generally tend to be the first family in our neighborhood to put up our tree. Neither my children or I can wait, and honestly I don't care what anybody thinks anymore. Jesus said to enter His Kingdom you must become like a little child - and when it comes to celebrating His birthday - I am usually worse than the kids. We bake Christmas cookies with some dear friends. On Christmas Eve we go to my friend/adopted "big sister", Carol's house and celebrate with her family - husband-Andrew, daughter-Brenna and dog-Emma. There is always shrimp, and tons of good, beautiful baked goods because Carol is absolutely, without a doubt the best baker in the entire world. We usually go to a candlelight service for Christmas Eve - except for one year when we had a terrible snowstorm. Then we come home and always let our children open one present on Christmas Eve - NEW pajamas! (I figured out early on that this makes them look all nice and shiny in their Christmas pictures - unless somebody barfs on them in the middle of the night but I'm not mentioning any names! Kendra!!) We either snuggle up together on the couch and read the Christmas story from Luke. Before going to bed, the kids set out Christmas cookies and milk for Santa, and carrots for the reindeer. We have been known to tuck them in bed and listen to sleigh bells ring outside their window!
On Christmas morning, our children always wake and open their stockings first thing. My husband is a bit overbearing with the video camera, and insists that they wait to see what is under the tree until he is all set up to capture every single wide eyed, bedhead framed expression. We make a pot of coffee and put on some Christmas music, and if we can get the insane camera man to put the camera on a tripod, we all sit around in our jammies and enjoy watching each other open presents. The rest of the day is usually pretty laid back - for everyone but me! I spend most of the afternoon in the kitchen - and eventually we have a nice meal and watch a movie, play a game or continue assembling, or deconstructing the packaging of some of their gifts. Last year we went in the evening to visit some friends who will be out of town this year - but that was a very nice addition.
My husband grew up in Texas - and one of the things his HUGE-mongous family usually did to celebrate Christmas was set off fireworks. You can't even buy them where we live this time of the year.
Every family has ways of celebrating that are unique and special to them. Some of our traditions will stay the same when (Lord willing!) we move to Texas and others will sadly be set aside. (We will miss you terribly Carol, Andrew, Brenna and Emma!) I just thought I'd share, and ask YOU to tell me how YOUR family celebrates CHRISTmas!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)