Category Archives: Family File

Thoughts on family life

Coming and Going

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“The Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.”  Psalm 121:8   

In this earthly life, we celebrate the comings and mourn the goings.  Birth and death are a constant reality for us humans.  We know babies are born every day and people die every day, but when that reality crashes into our ordinary lives, both the joy of new birth and the sadness of loss is magnified.

My sister-in-law, Barbie, passed from this life to the next on Friday, Nov. 29.

I remember her coming into my life when I was about 12.  My brother Dan brought her home to meet the family in the summer and they were married in December.  In between the introduction and the wedding, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer.  She was so sick by Christmas, that she wasn’t able to attend the wedding.  The newlyweds offered to move in and help take care of mom and keep the household running.  As a young bride, Barbie stepped into a horribly difficult family crisis.  My world was shaking, our family was reeling, and in the midst of turmoil, Barbie brought light and peace to my dark and scary world.   Barbie loved helping people.

I remember her coming to Eau Claire the day our youngest child was born.  An early morning call was made and she arrived at the hospital to be with our older kids as they waited for their sibling to arrive.  As Jake was making his entrance into the world, Barbie brought Katie and Sam into the delivery room to witness the miracle.  Barbie loved miracles.

I remember her coming to every bridal shower, every baby shower, every confirmation, every graduation.  Family gatherings were a priority no matter when or where they took place.  This past August, we had our first family reunion.  We played games, we had a talent show, we ate and visited and held babies.  Barbie was in charge of desserts.   She brought pies and cupcakes and bars and cookies and cheesecakes.  Barbie loved to celebrate.

I’ll remember her going as a lesson in how to do it well.

She helped us cope,

she prayed for a miracle,

and she celebrated every day.

Love You Barbie.

 

Say Thank You

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Having an almost-two-year-old boy in the house has turned every day into an adventure.  Hudson is learning new things at an incredible rate.  He’s picking up words like crazy, finding out what happens when he throws his food on the floor, and discovering how to postpone nap time.  He’s a smart little fella.  But some things don’t come naturally — they have to be taught.

Hud Bud’s parents are patiently instructing their boy to mind his manners.  When he holds out his cup and says, “More”, his mommy responds with, “More please”.  He repeats, “More peese” and then he gets his sippy cup filled.  She tells Hudson, “Say thank you” and he says, “Deet doo”.

It’s not natural to be grateful.  We have to be taught to say “thank you”.  I’m still learning.

This morning I walked outside and took in a big breath of cold air.  I heard in my heart, “Say thank you”.   So I said, “Thank you, Lord, for air.  Fresh, cold air to breath.  Every minute of every day, my whole life long.”

Then I stepped into last night’s dusting of snow and heard it again, “Say thank you”.  So I said, “Thanks, Lord, for seasons and sunshine and snowflakes and this beautiful earth.”

As I walked the dog around the block, I picked up the pace in the chilly wind but heard, “Say thank you”.  So I said, “Thanks so much for legs that walk and eyes that see and heart that beats.”

Nearing the back door, I looked in the window and saw PB making coffee and Hudson eating toast.  “Say thank you.”  “Oh, yes, Lord, for people to love and live with and laugh with — many, many thanks.”

Hudson and I are learning to be grateful.

“Thank you for Your kindness,

Thank You for Your mercy,

Thank You for the cross,

Thank You for the price You paid. 

Thank You for Your promise,

Thank You for Your favor,

Thank You for Your love,

And everything You’ve done for me.”*

In other words, Lord,

deet doo.

*”Thank You” by Hillsong

Breathing Again

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breatheNot that I’m making any excuses for my rude behavior, but sometimes something has to give.  Unfortunately, small drop got dropped in the midst of an unusual season of busyness.  Some days are so filled with living that words can’t squeeze their way in to record the journey.

Today, because it’s my birthday, I’m giving myself a moment to breathe and see what leaks out with the exhale.  First, a look back.  This is how the autumn has gone:

PB took a tumble and tore his rotator cuff.

Our younger daughter and her family came to spend two weeks with us.  Our older daughter and her family came to spend two weeks with us.  We had 14 people in the house for almost two weeks.

We hosted the first ever family reunion on my side, with over 40 of us gathering.

Our younger daughter and her family moved overseas.  I sobbed at O’Hare.  I sobbed all the way home.  I sobbed when I walked in the house and saw the spit up cloths.

We had two big weddings – PB tied the knot, I got to sit and watch.  I always cry at weddings.  Happy tears.

My honey had shoulder surgery.  He felt like crying.

My sister-in-law had brain surgery.  Tough day with tough news.  I cried.

Our fifth grandchild was born (#4 in 2013).  I wept with joy as I held all 5 lb. 13 oz.

Our church sang “Have We Told You Lately That We Love You?” to us.  I did the ugly cry in front of the whole congregation.

I flew to Salt Lake City.

I flew back the next day with our older daughter and two grandsons.

Our son-in-law and his dad drove a moving truck for 24 straight hours.

Our older daughter and her husband and their two boys moved into our basement.  After being out west for 10 years, I blink back tears when I think that I get to see my girl’s face every morning in my kitchen.

Goodness, there’s been a lot of cryin’ going on.  Some sad, some happy, some from sheer exhaustion.  All from living life.  You know how it is.  You do it, too.  I wouldn’t trade away one of those tears, though.  Emotions mean I’m alive and I’m loved and I’m loving.

There.  I did it.  I looked back and sighed a big sigh.

Now I’m going to start looking forward.

Thanksgiving, Christmas, Skyping with the twinsies, chasing the toddler, getting to know the new babies, singing, worshiping, studying, teaching…and hopefully, writing.

A Mom’s Toughest Job

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A mom’s toughest job isn’t…..

getting up in the night with a crying infant,

or keeping a teething baby comforted,

or being stuck in a house with sick toddlers,

or settling squabbles and getting everybody to share nicely.

A mom’s hardest task isn’t….

keeping up with the laundry,

or pulling off a fantastic birthday party.

or doing 6th grade math,

or instilling the value of a clean bedroom.

A mom’s most difficult choice isn’t….

which school to send the kids to,

or what clothes are appropriate,

or what time curfew is,

or which friends are a good influence.

A mom’s toughest job,

hardest task

and most difficult choice

is

letting go.

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Here is wisdom for the moms and dads that time has proven true,
The day your children learn to walk, they start to walk away from you.
For at first you hold all of them, cradled safely in your arms,
Then one day their hand is all you hold, and soon it’s just their heart.

Can the sparrow ever learn to fly if the nest is all it knows?
Can the arrow ever reach its mark by remaining in the bow?
You have to let it go.

“Arrow and the Bow” by Steve Chapman

One Little Decision

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 red canFunny how one little decision can seem to throw off the universe…

My dear hubby, PB, decided to clean the garage instead of go fishing on his day off.

He decided to clear out all the old red plastic gas containers we had for Y2K…ummm….13 years ago.

He decided to smash them in order to fit them into a big garbage bag.

He decided to jump on a gas can with two feet…

which sent it shooting across the garage floor…

which sent him flying six feet into the air…

which caused him to land on the cement on his left shoulder.

He decided to call me.

I decided to take him to ER.

The doctor decided PB tore his rotator cuff.

We decided it’s a good thing PB isn’t a major league pitcher.

I decided I love him still.

But I kinda wish he had gone fishing.

Four Babies

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This morning my daughter Katie and I thought it would be nice to take a walk around our town square.  We talked about packing up the kids, stopping at the coffee shop, and then strolling into a few of our favorite shops.

But there are four babies at our house.  What were we thinking?

By the time Eli and Ella were fed and dressed, Hudson was getting up.

By the time Hudson was fed and dressed, Eli and Ella were falling asleep in their swings.

Then Charlie needed to nurse.

Somewhere in there, I changed three poopy diapers.

By mid-morning, Hudson was ready for a nap.

Then Eli and Ella woke up and I gave them each a bottle.

When Hudson got up (he didn’t really sleep), Charlie was nodding off in the swing.

Then Eli and Ella spit up, so I changed them into their second outfit of the day.

It wasn’t long before Hudson was hungry for lunch.

About then, Charlie woke up and just wanted to be held.

Eli rolled over onto his stomach and couldn’t get back over, so he cried.

Ella rolled over and smacked Eli, so he cried louder.

Then I changed some more diapers.

After lunch, Hudson really needed a nap because he didn’t actually sleep before.

Then Dan, Anna, Kelsey, Sam and PB walked in and played with the babies.

Katie and I took a nap.

Maybe we’ll try again tomorrow.  Maybe not.

How many chances will I get to hold four babies in one morning?

An iced caramel vanilla latte topped with whipped cream and a drizzle of caramel syrup can’t compare.

Not even close.

Good Old Days

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When our four kids get together, their conversation eventually comes around to reminiscing about the bad good-old-days.

  Like…

“Remember when mom dressed us in look-alike sailor outfits?”

Or…

“Remember when dad wouldn’t let me leave the supper table until I could spell the word c-h-i-c-k-e-n?”

Why, oh why, do they recall with such fondness the moments I would most like to forget?  It’s amazing they turned out so well after being exposed to such limited parenting skills.

Funny how I remember very different things: reading books out loud all afternoon, singing songs in the car, staring at their eyelashes as they drifted off to sleep.  Now, those were the good good-old-days.

Grandparenting is a chance to have a re-do.

I hereby vow to never dress my grands in matching outfits.

PB promises to refrain from drilling important words into their little minds.

Today, we get the chance to create great good-old-days.  Let’s go!

First, we’ll squirt water into cups in the backyard.

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Then we’ll go to the park….

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and play in the water….

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and the bubbling fountain.

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Then we’ll have some lunch, but keep the McNuggets away from Opa.

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We’ll read a book…

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and have a tickle….

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then take a nap.

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It’ll be a great day.