Category Archives: Family File

Thoughts on family life

One More Thing

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Never in my blogging life of 16 years have I ever posted twice in one day.
Just had to sneak this one in before the clock strikes twelve.
I’ll leave you alone until next Thursday.
Promise.

Here are my twelve tribes in all their pajama glory.
#12 got lots of love from his cousins.

Three big boys.
Three big girls.
Three little girls.
Three little boys.
I couldn’t have come up with a more symmetrical arrangement.

We forced one more Nativity scene and I expect it will be our last.
What else were we to do with a 10-day-old in our midst?
He was the star of the show.
If you’re counting, we are short one sheep.
The 6-year-old refused to put on a silly costume and join the fun,
even though Opa bribed him with suckers.
I like his spunk.

God bless us, every one!

Until next year!

Christmas Eyes

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Something about Christmas brings out the kid in all of us.
PB’s natural fun-loving personality really shines during the holidays.
He brings home all kinds of goodies. Every day. They are piling up.

Bags of Farm & Fleet Tootsie Roll Pops are a staple around here. In December, though, the stash is considerably expanded. After all, there are Christmas programs and dance recitals and extra church services. The demand rises dramatically, so PB keeps his pockets jammed full of suckers to pass out when the kids’ start to wiggle.

One year, PB brought home a yodeling pickle ornament. It’s motion sensitive, which means when I get up at 5:30 a.m. and tiptoe out to the kitchen, a shrill voice coming from a dark corner scares the Charles Dickens out of me. So fun!

It’s not all candy and toys for PB. He also goes in for a good game to play with the grandkids. This one is sure to be a hit with the 6-year-old and 8-year-old grandsons. We need to give them more reasons to talk about butts.

Of all PB’s fun finds, these get my seal of approval.
They don’t cause cavities,
they don’t yodel,
and they have nothing to do with butts.

These flimsy “glasses” transform the Christmas tree lights into fun shapes. We have glasses that create snowmen, reindeer, trees, candy canes and gingerbread men. These magical specs cost $1.69 each, which is the best deal in town.

See what I mean?
The glasses help you see something that nobody else sees.
It’s magic.

I’m wondering if Simeon had a special pair of glasses.

In Luke 2, when Joseph and Mary brought their 8-day-old baby boy to the temple, Simeon saw something that nobody else saw. The elderly gentleman took baby Jesus in his arms and declared, “My eyes have seen your salvation.” (Luke 2:30)

Everyone else in the temple saw a baby.
Simeon saw salvation.
He must have had Holy-Spirit-glasses.
Oh, for eyes to see like Simeon.

We Got Robbed

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Many years ago, PB and I drove to Winona, Minnesota for a Keith Green concert. We arrived early, so we left our car in the empty parking ramp and slipped into the auditorium to listen to the sound checks.

Keith Green was a radical-hippie-Jesus-lover. He had crazy piano skills and wrote songs that brought worship to a new level. I’d never heard anyone sing with so much conviction and passion. The lyrics to his songs were raw and deeply honest. It was a thrill to be able to hear him live. We sat in the front row.

After the concert, we walked back to the parking ramp and discovered our car had been broken into. The window had been smashed and our bags torn apart. We were poor college students at the time, so the robbers didn’t find anything worth stealing. It was a cold ride home to LaCrosse that night, but it could have been worse and we were thankful.

A year after we heard Keith Green perform, he died in a plane crash. He was 28 years old. I remember hearing the news on the radio, sitting on the stairs in our townhouse apartment, and weeping.

I recalled this memory because of a quote I read this week by another old dead guy, Matthew Henry. He was a preacher in the 1700’s and was attacked one night by robbers on the streets of London. Reflecting on his unsettling experience he said:

“I am thankful first because I have never been robbed before.
Second, although they took my money, they did not take my life.
Third, they took everything, but it wasn’t much.
Fourth, I am thankful that it was I who was robbed, not I who robbed.“

As we count our many blessings,
let’s be thankful for all the disasters that didn’t happen,
for all the close calls that were avoided,
for all the near misses that were thwarted.

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
    where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip.
The Lord will watch over your coming and going
    both now and forevermore.
Psalm 121

Kansas City, Here I Come

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When PB asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday, I was ready with an answer.

“I want to go to Kansas City and visit the Charles Spurgeon Library on the campus of Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary.”

Not your typical birthday request, I know. Even PB raised his eyebrows at that one, but he’s always game for a road-trip-adventure. And I promised him some KC barbeque.

As we crossed the state line into Missouri, we played “Kansas City, Here I Come” by Wilbert Harrison, recorded in 1959, which seemed appropriate since it was my birthday trip and that’s my birth year.

See? I wasn’t making it up. Not every old dead guy gets his own library.

Spurgeon had a 12,000-volume personal library. After he died, half of his books were sold and ended up in America. They sat in boxes for 100 years in a basement. Then Midwestern Baptist rescued them and someone donated several million dollars to build a library to house and display them. Everything you ever wanted to know about Charles Spurgeon is there. We spent three hours soaking up every bit of it.

PB was a trooper.
Down deep, I think he loved seeing everything as much as I did.

This is the pew Charles was sitting on when he came to saving faith in Jesus.
He was 15 years old.
He started preaching at 17 and had his first church when he was 19.

Spurgeon’s desk—we were allowed to touch it.

So Many Books. The man read six books every week.
That’s 312 books per year.
But then, Spurg didn’t have TV or Internet or Automobiles.

The paintings all over the library were really beautiful.
Every little enclosed case had a story.

There were three cigars in his coat pocket when he died.
To the glory of God.

A good time was had by all.

My admiration for CHS grew exponentially.
I sure hope he teaches and preaches in the New Earth.
I’ll be in the front row, grinning from ear to ear.

We celebrated at Joe’s Kansas City Bar-B-Que with brisket and burnt ends.

Thanks, honey, for making my birthday dreams come true.
You’ll always be my #1 preacher.

Road Trip

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Once in a while, PB and I like to jump in the car and take off.
We don’t do long vacations or travel the world.
We like being home.

Since retiring to the woods we feel like we’re on perpetual vaca,
so occasionally an adventure is in order.
Today is that day.

You’ll never guess where we’re going…

Minus One, Plus One

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Grandkid Lineup 2025

Grandkid #2 was home sick, so we were minus one this year. We missed her!

Grandkid #11 is holding a “?”, so we will be plus one next year. We can’t wait!

Twelve tribes. Twelve disciples. The Twelve. The dirty dozen.

Cousin Camp 2025

Eight of the most interesting, entertaining, delightful people in the universe.

Now you know why I needed August Break.

“If I had known how wonderful it would be to have grandchildren,
I’d have had them first.”
~ Lois Wyse

45

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This is what 45 Overliens look like.

They came from the east coast, from the west coast, and from down the road.

At the end of the day,
we ate 22 lbs. of pulled pork,
we finished off a DQ ice cream sheet cake and a jumbo box of Bomb Pops,
we drank gallons of lemonade and coolers full of soda,
we talked and talked and talked
(these ARE Overliens, after all).
Some of us swam in the lake.
Most of us sat in the shade.
It was a glorious day.

We were missing a few—27 to be exact.

I noticed that one name kept coming up in conversations—Gigi.
Great-grandma was the matriarch of the family until she passed in 2021.
She prayed for all of her children
and grandchildren
and great-grandchildren
every day.

She prayed for our sick babies and adventurous teenagers and prodigal rebels.
She prayed in four daughters-in-law and one son-in-law.
She brought down blessings on our families.

We’re still reaping the benefits from Gigi’s faithful prayers.
Now it’s our turn.

24 on the 24th

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April 24th is a big day in our family.
My sister, my great-niece and one of my granddaughters
all share birthdays on 4-24.

This year we have a golden birthday
and it isn’t Robin or Adrienne or Ember.

It’s PB.

Twenty-four years ago, my man had triple bypass surgery on April 24.

I watched the nurses wheel him down the hall on a gurney.
I heard his familiar voice call out, “Hope it’s a boy!”
I went to the waiting room and waited.
And waited and waited.
And waited.

When he was in the recovery room after surgery,
he sang “Happy Birthday” to my sister with a tube down his throat.

That’s just the kind of guy he is.

Happy birthday to PB’s heart.
And many more.

A joyful heart is good medicine.
Proverbs 17:22

Ember Blake has a story of her own that’s worth re-visiting.

Today, Baseball

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Today is Opening Day for the Major League Baseball season—
a national holiday in our household.

Today, we eat hotdogs.
Today, we wear our team T-shirts.
Today, we gather in front of the TV for the first pitch.

Today, all 30 Major League teams have legitimate dreams of glory.
Today, all 780 players have hopes of a break-out, record-setting season.
Today, 162 games lay before us, stretching from March to September.

Today, Dodger fans by the thousands will buy tickets starting at $144.
Today, Marlins fans by the tens will purchase tickets for $8.

Tomorrow, fifteen teams will be undefeated
and fifteen teams will have a losing record.

What a difference a day makes.

Play ball!