Category Archives: Family File

Thoughts on family life

Puzzled

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PB bought me a 1000 piece puzzle for Christmas. It’s a picture of us with 11 of the most wonderful people on the face of the earth. I love every one of them with all my heart.

But I did not love this puzzle.

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We started out strong.
Eyes, noses, smiles and toes went together without a hitch.

The background took more effort. Once that was complete, the only part left was thirteen pairs of identical pajamas. We were faced with two drawers filled with blue plaid puzzle pieces. PB stopped coming over to the table at this point. I slowed down dramatically. Until.

Until a piece fell on the floor and I noticed a row of letters on its backside. Angel choirs sang from heaven as the truth dawned on me. I quickly flipped all the pieces over, lined up the letters, and snapped them together with ease. PB wandered over to the table to see what I was so happy about. In no time, we had that stinkin’ puzzle done.

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There’s a lesson here.
When things don’t seem to be working
and you can’t figure out your next move,
get a new perspective.

The answers might be right there on the flip side.

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“So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.
For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”
2 Corinthians 4:18

My Funny Valentine

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Years ago, PB and I decided to forego giving each other Valentine cards, candy, and flowers. This was a mutual agreement. He didn’t like the pressure of being appropriately romantic and I didn’t like getting the Visa bill in March. However we did not want to be stingy or stodgy, so we came up with a better plan.

When February 14th rolls around, we go to Walmart and peruse the array of Valentine cards. Each of us picks one, shows it to the other, and puts it back on the rack. We might even give each other a little kiss right there in aisle three, and then walk out of the store hand in hand.

This year, I threw a wrench into the system. When cleaning out my desk drawers, I found a lovely red envelope with a brand new card inside. It was a Valentine purchased years ago and never delivered. The message was perfect for PB, so I decided to break protocol.

So we went to Walmart and I hovered close by to make sure he passed up the $10 cards, keeping him in the vicinity of the $1.98 variety.

My only request was that it be written in English.

PB is my funny valentine.
I need his humor.
It does my heart good.

“A cheerful heart is good medicine.”
Proverbs 17:22

Thanksgiving 1948

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Thanksgiving 1948

Grandpa and Grandma
Uncle Franklin and Aunt Ardith
Uncle Morris and Aunt Phyllis
Cousins Candy, Jerry, Jim and Joe

That’s my mother on the far right,
holding my brother.
Dad must have taken the picture.

The men were in suits and ties.
The women sported hair rolls and pin curls.
The children gathered around Grandma.
The turkey was ready to be carved.

Thanksgiving 2024 will look a little different.

I have no lace curtains or flowery wallpaper.
There will be no linen tablecloth.
I will not wear bright red lipstick.

But, hopefully, the children will gather around Nonnie.
And, hopefully, the 18 pound turkey will feed us all.
And, hopefully, we will give thanks for another year
with everyone around the table.

Some things never change.

“It is good to give thanks to the Lord.”
Psalm 92:1

Big Shoulders

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When our four kids were little and we were homeschooling, we took advantage of the November election to teach them about government. We studied the three branches, the political parties and the candidates running for office. We visited the state capitol and met our representative. We wrote letters to the President and the Governor, assuring them of our prayers and asking for their pictures. We learned the Pledge of Allegiance and said it together every morning.

The night before the election, one of the presidential candidates made a stop in a town nearby. We bundled up the kids and stood outside for an hour before finally seeing the top of the hopeful politician’s head. In the distance. For a split second.

But the atmosphere was electric — that political rally rivaled any big sporting event. There was music and a cheering crowd and people holding up signs. We got swept up in the frenzy.

The next morning, as the kids were eating breakfast, our seven year old asked who won the election. When I said that our candidate lost, he put his little head down on the table and started to cry. PB and I looked at each other with wide eyes. Maybe we overdid it. I had to convince the broken-hearted boy that the world was not coming to an end.

It’s easy to get swept up and lose eternal perspective.
But here’s some good news today—
the government is on His shoulders. (Isaiah 9:6)
He’s got big shoulders.
We’re not made to carry such a heavy load.
Our shoulders aren’t strong enough.

Worldly governments will one day come to an end.
But here’s more good news—someday,
“of the increase of His government and peace there will be no end.”
Isaiah 9:7

Grandkid Lineup

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They are another year older, a few inches taller, and increasingly delightful.

Lord, make known to them the path of life and fill them with joy in Your presence. Psalm 16:11

Surround them with Your favor as a shield. Psalm 5:12

Keep them as the apple of Your eye and hide them in the shadow of Your wings. Psalm 17:8

Oh Lord, hear the prayers from this Nonnie’s heart. Amen.

45th

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Once upon a time, two fresh-faced, newly-married kids dreamed of going on the road and becoming the next big Christian recording artists. But, alas, free-will offerings at potluck dinners and mother-daughter banquets didn’t pay the bills. So the dream died.

Forty-five years later, they looked back and saw the beautiful truth—
God had a better dream.

When those lovebirds drove away from their wedding reception in their red Pinto station wagon on August 25, 1979, they had no idea what was in store. It would be an amazing adventure!

Still is!

* Family photo by Mike Gorski

Classic Adventure

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PB and I took a little road trip.
We didn’t go very far.
We weren’t gone for very long.
That’s our kind of adventure.

We went to a band concert in a park.
We toured a breathtaking religious site.
We walked through a historical homestead.
We overlooked a river at flood stage from a bluff.
We ate steak and shrimp at a good old fashioned supper club.

The highlight, for me, was a stop at the largest used book store in the state, with over half a million books.

Be still, my heart.

After perusing dusty titles for the better part of an hour, I stumbled on a treasure—literally. A stack of volumes on the floor tripped me up. And I’m so glad they did.

The Harvard Classics were compiled in 1909 by Charles W. Eliot, Harvard University President. He proposed that anyone who would commit to reading this “Five-Foot Shelf of Books” would be exposed to the greatest works ever written and be duly educated.

Sign me up.

The complete 50-volume set is available on Amazon—for $1300. The new books have shiny fake-leather covers and clean, crisp pages.

In that used bookstore I found my treasure at 95.4% off the Amazon price! The covers were faded and the pages were musty. Perfection!

It took me a while to track down PB in that gigantic maze of a bookstore. But when I did and he saw the glimmer in my eye, he knew. A treasure at a bargain price cannot be denied. Now I just need him to put up a five-foot long shelf in my office.

I’m hoping to open Dante’s Divine Comedy or Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales and find a few hidden $20 bills from 1909. Even if I don’t, the true treasure is the joy of reading and learning from the old books.

Volume 1, here I come.

Pilgrim Hymnal

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This is my grandfather, J. Frank Bradley.

Isn’t he handsome?

He was born on June 5, 1886.
Yesterday would have been his 138th birthday.

He died in 1966, just nine months after my grandma passed.
It was said he died of a broken heart.

I don’t remember much about the man. I have no recollection of sitting on his lap for a story or playing peek-a-boo or even hearing him laugh. I was at the tail end of his line of grandchildren so he was already elderly when I came along. I faintly recall Grandpa Bradley’s baritone voice leading the “Doxology” at family Thanksgiving meals. Maybe that’s why I pulled this old hymnal down from the shelf this week. It’s a treasured possession.

The hymnal was gifted to J. Frank when he retired from singing in the church choir after 40 faithful years. Both the pastor and the choir director wrote notes of thanks inside the front cover. All 28 choir members, including the organist, signed their names.

“I must say that you are a fine human being and that you have been a source of personal inspiration to me during our years of friendship.”

Here is what caught my eye when I opened the old songbook.

March 8, 1959. I would be born eight months later. Still an unknown surprise, I was in the earliest stages of being knit together in the secret place, wonderfully and fearfully made.

I picture Grandpa Bradley in the Somers Congregational Church choir loft, holding his Pilgrim Hymnal and singing, “O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come, our shelter in the stormy blast, and our eternal home.”

It seems that this world is in even more need of God’s help than it was back in 1959. But I have just as much hope for my grandchildren in the years to come as he must have had for me.

Someday, in our eternal home, maybe Grandpa and I will sing a duet.

Golden

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Friday, April 19, 1974.
A skinny 14-year-old farm girl
met a handsome 16-year-old preacher’s son.
Fifty years ago.
Fifty golden years.

Five years, 4 months, and 6 days after that first meeting, the two stood before a church full of friends and family and sang to each other.

“Love’s grown deep inside of us
And time has made us sure
That the reason we stand here
Is because You’ve touched Your hand here.
The love we feel today is meant to be shared by two,
So we commit our love to You.”

Still do.