Real Flowers for Memorial Day

Today is Memorial Day. I feel some guilt that I didn't go just 50 miles away to decorate my parents' graves. But knowing them as I did, they wouldn't mind too much. They would understand my reasons.

Dad always gave me a little gas money when I came to visit or to help them, so I know he would understand my lack of funds. And Mom, being blind, did not need flowers on her grave. The sounds of the birds and the wind in the trees would be enough for her enjoyment. She relied on memories and would endorse my remembrance of them, rather than my actual presence.

I felt closer to them by going through some of their belongings this weekend. Yes, there are still some boxes of paperwork from their house that needed my attention. It was nice to see these remnants of their life, even though the sorting was at times painful.

Instead of needing flowers on their grave, I have flowers in my yard that come up every year and remind me of them. Just as these perennials come up after lying dormant in the ground for winter, Mom and Dad are lying in wait for that glorious resurrection Morning when Jesus breaks through the sky and comes back to take us all home with Him.

from Mom, iris bulbs that came from her yard

we planted geraniums for the sides of the swing (their custom--as a matter of fact, it's their swing!)

"Lovegiving"

A friend of mine just lost her elderly father. She and her husband have been caregivers for her parents for some time now, so I'm feeling a special sadness for them today. It reminds me of what the end of my own caregiving will feel like.

I don't know if grief is any easier after caregiving or not. Perhaps there's still guilt over whether your care was good enough. But then again, there's some comfort in knowing that you were there for them and did the best you could.

Friends and loved ones often refer to caregivers as saints. But we are actually no more saintly than any other Christian. As a matter of fact, the Bible indicates in many places that anyone who calls on the name of Jesus and is sanctified in Him is a saint. (I Corinthians 1:2) ) Caregiving doesn't make one a saint. It allows us to be one. It's the Christian, saintly thing to do.

It's an opportunity to give back the care and love that's been given to us. One might call it "lovegiving".

Snow in the Morning

My life has slowed down considerably, as far as outside-the-home activities, since Dean's recent weight, sleep, and drug issues. To compound our isolated status, a blizzard is in the forecast for tonight. Everyone is making their final trips to the store, gearing up for the snow we've all been waiting for and dreading at the same time. The beauty of seeing new snow on the ground in the morning will make staying home worth it for awhile at least.

I look forward to another beautiful sight too. Seeing my loved ones on Resurrection Morning. Today, half out of boredom, I moved a bookcase from the living room into my bedroom. On it were pictures and mementos of my dear, departed parents. The caregiving for them was also marked with boredom and isolation--that time in their hospital room.

I'm tired of being isolated from loved ones, but especially from my Jesus. That will be the sweetest sight of all on Resurrection Morning. Jesus coming in the clouds to bring us all home with Him. And what a glorious, heavenly home that will be.

Minnie at her watchdog post--foot of my bed! She's such good company too!

Dad's Desk

A much overdue "to-do list" task got completed yesterday. I totally cleaned my dad's desk area. It was surprising all the office supplies I discovered I had available. When my dad, who passed away two years ago, went to the office store, he purchased enough to last, well, for more than his lifetime.

I keep the top of his desk for mementos of my dad. So many memories came rushing back as I rearranged and dusted the items. He spent many happy hours at his desk, getting to know his computer, but more importantly, keeping in touch with friends and family. Eventually their dining room turned into his computer room, much to my mom's dismay. But she was willing to sacrifice it for the worthy cause of keeping dad happy.

No matter how hard I try, I will never think of it as anything other than "dad's desk". In my mind, it will always belong to him. And shouldn't I likewise view all my possessions as belonging to God? It makes me pause to thank God for entrusting me with so much. And that's why I try to have "mementos" of God in every room too. Pictures of Jesus or books about Him on every shelf, even a framed poem about Him in my bathroom, to remind me of the real owner. I don't want my earthly father's influence forgotten, and the same goes for God's, the Giver of it all.

Dad's corner

Debating my Father

I'm getting excited about the presidential debate coming up this evening. All this political talk reminds me of my dad. He was so patriotic and encouraged me to stay on top of the issues and to get out and vote intelligently every year. As a World War II veteran, he felt it was his American duty to know the candidates and to keep democracy alive by participating in the election process, as much as possible.

It was a source of amusement to me though that we always ended up supporting different candidates. He tried so hard to convince me of his party's merits and just couldn't understand how a daughter of his could think so opposite of him politically. I really wish it hadn't ended up that way. I would have loved sharing his views and opinions. But after all, part of the democratic ideal is the freedom to choose our leaders.

I'm glad for my heavenly Father too and the freedom He gives us to choose whom we will follow. It must pain Him when we choose the enemy's side, but His love is still there for the sinner. And, just like my dad, God will continue to persuade us to His way of thinking, right up to the very end.

Fond Memories

Today is a day of importance in our family. Not only was it the day my mother died two years ago, but it's also the birthday of my niece, a grandchild my mom was especially fond of. She was her first grandchild, but she and her little brother were also the only two grandchildren that she actually lived in the same town with. Even if it was only for a couple of years when they were preschoolers many years ago. As you can imagine, she and my niece developed a special bond for each other, as over the years she would connect on the phone with her grandma for comfort and advice. To feel that amazing grandmotherly love that we all crave.

All the grandchildren experienced it at one time or another, but especially Tammie, the first. As mom slipped away from us in the hospital room that day two years ago, our first thoughts went out to Tammie. How devastated she would be to learn of this event on her birthday. But then again, how fortunate that it did happen on her day. It illustrated the closeness they had, and I pray that time will heal Tammie's wounded heart, but that she will also remember her grandma fondly each year, as perhaps none of the other grandchildren will.

For now, you still have your parents, aunts and uncles, and cousins to share your loss and remind you that your grandmother's love lives on in the rest of your family members. We are all healing together, Tammie. But thanks to your birthday, your grandmother will be remembered for generations to come.

 

my parents--what a "show" garden they had! (fond memories we share today, Tammie)

The Team

I can't help but think of my mom today. This was her birthday and birthdays were always so important to her. She would be 81 today. My dad's day was just two days before hers and I think they rather enjoyed celebrating their birthdays together. Mom usually made Dad's favorite cake. Yellow with chocolate frosting. Then she might follow with a special dessert that she liked. She made great cream puffs.

One thought I had of my mom today though was how she was able to cope with life. Of course, Jesus was her constant confidante, but she also felt comfortable sharing her burdens with her children. My sister usually had a handle on her aches and pains, from her swollen hands and feet to the pain in her eyes. Even though my sister lived hundreds of miles away, I could find out from her how mom was feeling, because I knew Mom shared that with her.

My brother was her sounding board when it came to marital matters, the many hurts and frustrations that came with living with a high-maintenance man like my dad. He gave her much needed comfort and understanding of those issues from his unique male perspective.

And finally I was there to share her frustrations with being blind those last ten years or so. I was the only one who lived close and was taking her to doctor's appointments and listening to her heartbreaking concerns of not being able to see and how much quality of life it was taking from her.

We were a family team all along and didn't recognize how our combined efforts were lightening Mom's load. But I'm sure it was. Thank you, Lord, for helping us be there for our mom. And she felt our combined presence, I'm sure, right to the end.

"A Spit and a Promise"

This day has been full of memories. It was my dad's birthday today. He would have been 83. What a coincidence that my nephew would think of washing the car today. It's my dad's car that I inherited two years ago. My parents kept it immaculately washed, waxed, and detailed numerous times a year. Often by their own sweat and muscle.

I feel close to my mom and dad whenever I use their car. They used it to drive to a local truck stop every evening to relax and socialize with friends. It was more than a vehicle for them. It was a link to the outside world. I know they were more proud of it than they were their old house.

Thank you, Jason, for reviving some memories for me today. Mom and Dad may be gone from this world, but their car lives on, as do our memories of them both. They live on in our hearts. We look forward to seeing them again on that glorious Resurrection Morning. God has promised a grand reunion for His people.

Here they are at the truck stop a few years ago...

After a good wash, it still shines!

The Lap of God

I accompanied my oldest granddaughter Jenna (4) to her Sabbath School class program this morning. She just isn't totally comfortable there by herself yet. And since her mother has to attend the class with her younger sister, I was called for "grandma duty" with Jenna.

She sat with the other children and was participating pretty well, until the teacher asked them all to come up and pick a stuffed animal to take to Noah's ark. Any time there's a come-one-come-all event like that she shrinks back, and she came and asked politely to sit on my lap. So, that's where it looked like she'd spend most of the rest of the class, until it was time to slide down the giraffe. Suddenly her shy persona vanished and she jumped up to get in line, ready to climb up and shimmy down the long giraffe's neck.

Sometimes, as a caregiver, I want to retreat to the lap of God, till I'm braver to meet the difficult duties that confront me. Thankfully, He rewards me with a glimpse of His love that encourages me to climb right up and slide down another mountainous trial. And just like the giraffe slide, there is a heavenly "Parent" waiting to catch me as I come tumbling down.

In His Arms

The nurse came today to evaluate Dean after his fall this weekend. She usually comes on Thursday, but I knew she'd want to see him before then, since he has complained of pain in his ribs again. I think it is getting better each day though, so the damage must be minimal. I was glad I wouldn't have to take him to see a doctor. Am not feeling up to much myself with this cold still raging in me.

I was just looking at my old calenders  to see how many colds I have had the past few years. I've been marking them down. The amazing thing was that I never had a cold that interfered with taking care of my parents the year I was caregiving for them. But after both of the funerals were over, I caught three bad colds almost on top of each other.

Now it could possibly be explained that I was operating on adrenalin and it might have boosted my immune system. But I actually did get one or two mild colds that year during times that my care wasn't needed as badly. Once when my sister was here to help.

No, I think it was God putting a protective hand on me. Giving me the strength and health I would need to do intense work that I still can't believe I was able physically to perform. God was very close to our whole family when we needed it. I picture Him carrying us in His arms and leaving only one set of footprints in the sand, as a famous poem depicts.

How close we are when we are in someone's arms. I know He's still walking beside me now and the future holds no fear. He's going to see us through it.

Me and my oxygen in North Carolina in 2011--lots of footprints here!

The Price of War

My mother's favorite holiday was Christmas. But as much as she loved that holiday, my father hated the one we celebrate today, the Fourth of July. Not for what it stood for, of course. A World War II veteran, no one was more patriotic than my dad. He flew a flag in front of his house all year round. What he dreaded about the Fourth was the noise that accompanied it. All the firecrackers that seemed to plague their peaceful world for days before and after the designated day.

I thought for years that all the noise just made him nervous. Their little dog was jittery too, and there was fear of sparks landing on their roof, like they did one year. Besides, as a former law enforcement officer, it bothered him that city ordinances about safety were overlooked, and he couldn't abide anyone getting by with breaking the law.

But then one year my dad told me the main reason fireworks bothered him. He said he had heard plenty of noisy gunfire when he was in Japan right at the close of the war. I never thought of my father being in that much danger during the war, because his ship arrived right after the bombing of Hiroshima to help with reconstruction of the country. He had enlisted at the end of the war, when he was only fifteen (he didn't need a birth certificate for the Army, if his mother signed some papers). After some thought though, and reading more about the history of the times, I realize he was in quite a bit of danger there in Japan. We Americans were still the hated enemy for years following the destruction caused by the atom bomb.

So, now it makes more sense to me why my dad did not like firecrackers. And I'm sure that anyone who has been in a war-torn country feels the same. The noise and sparks represent war. I know they bring enjoyment for their beauty and are something to look forward to during a long, hot summer, but let's not forget what they represent. They represent the price that a few have had to pay for all of us to have the freedoms we have. The price of war. There's no glory in the trenches, even today. Let's remember.

my dad in Japan

God Moments

Yesterday my daughter had a "God moment" when she felt the presence of God in the comforting embrace of a woman who looked just like her grandmother. She was at the animal shelter for an orientation for volunteers and couldn't take her eyes off another volunteer who looked just like my mother, who passed away in 2010. And the tears really came when she introduced herself as Patty, which was Grandma's name! It felt like a long overdue hug from Grandma. Coincidence? Or God ordained?

Then I've been thinking lately that I would sure like to find my nephew a nice microwave at a garage sale this summer, since he's moving into an apartment that doesn't have one. Funds are tight for both of us, but this morning I noticed a sign for a garage sale right up the street with several apartment garages hosting sales. I pulled in, never knowing that the first garage I would walk up to had a table with something on it I could hardly believe. A brand new microwave someone was selling for the ridiculously low price of ten dollars! And that was the exact amount of money I had in my purse! Coincidence? Or God ordained?

I thank God for these God moments. For the realization that He is at my side, and at the side of my family. He knows our needs, even before we ask. His presence is not only real, but is close by us on a personal level...if we are looking for Him.

Here's Kayla getting a hug from Grandma Patty when they were out shopping a few years ago.

And here is the miracle microwave!

Remembering

This evening Dean and I visited my parents' graves. I still don't how I survived the year 2010 and losing both mom and dad to cancer. Talk about caregiving. I was stretched to the limit, making over a hundred 50-mile trips back and forth. But thanks to many family members pulling together we survived the tragedy.

Here they are in the middle of that year, celebrating their 60th wedding anniversary.

The memories they gave us live on!

That Grand Reunion

It's been a year and a half since I lost both my parents to cancer. So many family milestones they've missed. Some good, some not-so-good. They both live on in our memories though. And also in the values and spiritual legacy they left for us.

I still have boxes of their papers, etc. to sort through, but just don't have the heart for it yet. Maybe someday when I'm in a real cleaning frenzy, I'll tackle it again. For now, I have two pieces of furniture that are daily reminders of their love and influence.

One, the dining room hutch, was my mom's pride and glory. It matches the table that she gave me several years ago when Dad took over her dining room and needed to set up his computer. She loved this dining room set and when I think about it, it's the first nice one she had. After forty years of marriage, you can understand her pride and joy in it. She hated to separate the set, but now they are together in my home. So, that's my reminder of Mom.

The computer desk is not an expensive one, but Dad loved his computers and the way they let him stay connected to his loved ones. It was in the only room in the house that Mom turned over to him for all his collections. I think of all the hours I spent emailing, then messaging, and finally video-chatting with Dad in his last years.

I can't bring them back, but so long as I have their memory, even without the physical reminders, I am blessed. They are resting in the grave until our grand family reunion in the sky!

Building Lasagna

As I "built" my lasagna for supper tonight, it struck me that there are an infinite number of ways to make lasagna, and I have tried alot of them. It's somewhat of a surprise to see how delicious it turns out most of the time. I've come to the conclusion that it must be pretty hard to make a bad lasagna. I have had lasagna that's too soupy or too dry, but those seem to be about the only flaws one can make.

While I pondered this, I remembered a phone conversation with my sister earlier in the day. We were talking about parenting, and how different our adult children's lives can be. Shouldn't they all turn out the same, if they have the same parents? Evidently not. We "build" our children, using different ingredients, in different amounts, and in a different order. Just like lasagna. We can only hope our efforts are rewarded, as they turn into adults. That is our desire and that is how we have planned them to turn out. It's hard to understand how hopes are sometimes dashed.

Jesus must have had similar disappointments and questions, considering the sorry state His disciples were in, even right up to the Last Supper. It took a miracle to get them to the place of growing and leading the early church. And miracles can still happen for our adult children. Our faith and prayers are just as valuable as our parenting skills, or even lack of them. Parents can make a difference, even after the children have long left our home and care. Just pray without ceasing. I Thess. 5:17

Silent Auction

My parents passed away a little over a year ago now and we are still trying to find a place for some of their earthly belongings. We had some items in a silent auction this weekend at a train show and so I called to see how much money was bid on our dad's railroad treasures. It was rather disheartening to discover that only a couple of things had sold. I had envisioned at least minimum bids on everything, as dad's treasures had become mine over the last year that I have kept them, and therefore everyone would be wanting them. Not so.

Is this how the Father in heaven felt after giving up His only Son? Even as a gift, most people have rejected this treasure of all treasures. How can we be so blind when it comes to the value of our Savior? Shouldn't we all be wanting Him?

But then, I got to thinking that probably there just weren't enough people at the train show who happened to get to the silent auction tables. I should have been there, directing them to our precious items.

So, perhaps I have an obligation when it comes to Jesus' amazing gift as well. Am I somewhat to blame for some of those rejections? I need to be standing nearby, directing people to the valuable gift--Jesus, our most wonderful treasure of all.

Our Anchor

Today I got a phone call from the realtor that brought good news for once to our family! At last my parents' house sold, the one we've had on the market almost a year now. The final selling price was significantly less than we were hoping to get at first. But after waiting this long, any amount sounds good.

Here's where I could veer off into a thousand remembrances of my parents and the house that I spent my early years in. I have a picture of me standing in front of it on my first day of school. It will be painful to go to Council Bluffs in the morning and sign all the papers there at the very empty house, but I know God will get me through it somehow.

This past year has had its share of family crises. Our parents were our anchors, and it has felt like we were adrift at first without them. In dealing with these difficult situations, however, my siblings and I are learning that the only anchor we really need is our Lord and Savior. And that is a far more valuable legacy from our parents than the sale of any home. God is truly all we need.

Cousin Connection

I spent some special time with my cousins this evening. Three of my female cousins and I met and had dinner together. Later, it was so much fun looking through an old family album and recognizing our parents and aunts and uncles and other cousins. The album belonged to my parents, and it was nice to have them identify some of the people I wasn't sure about and share stories about when the photos were taken.

Having lost both my parents fairly close together in time, it has sometimes felt like I was floating adrift in a boat, without an oar or anything to steer with. Connecting with family members like this gives me a comforting, secure feeling that gives me direction in life again. Life can go on without my parents, even though it will never be the same.

Life changes for all of us, but that's O.K. It even happened to Jesus. One day He was working in His father's carpentry shop and the next day He was getting baptized and starting His ministry. Even that came to an abrupt end, when they crucified Him just three short years later. Mary's head must have been in a whirl, as she was one who saw Him through all these life experiences. How adrift she must have felt too. I'm sure she drew comfort from the disciples--much as I did from my cousins tonight.

Maranatha, Come Quickly, Jesus!

This day, one year ago, was bittersweet for me in so many ways, but I try to think of the sweetness of it only. My father got out of the hospital, which he was getting tired of after almost a month. He hated hospitals and doctors, so nothing was sweeter to him than to enter his house once more. His little dog was there to greet him, and he had two daughters to wait on him hand and foot. We fixed his favorite foods for supper, and got him settled in bed. He was so overjoyed to be there and, snuggled up with his little dog for the night.

It turned out to be his last night at home though. That night he went to sleep in Jesus. It was the end he would have wanted. He was ready to leave this world, as it had truly lost all luster after losing our mother just three months earlier. Their passing has left a big hole in our lives, but the things they taught us and the memories we still cherish are able to somewhat fill the gap. The children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren live on to remind us that their lives did have meaning.

We look forward to the Resurrection Morning when all who love and follow Jesus will be raised to meet Him in the sky at His Second Coming. I have no doubt that my parents are both "resting in peace" and we will have a grand family reunion someday. Maranatha, come quickly, Lord Jesus!

Dad Was a Soldier

I can't think of Veteran's Day without thinking of my dad, who passed away a year ago. He gave his youth to the service of his country. World War II was just winding down and he was just fifteen when he tried to enlist. The Navy wouldn't take him without a birth certificate, but the Army would require only a parent's signature.

Most of the men in his unit were much older, or so it seemed to a young teenager. But they bonded with him, if nothing else but to look out after such a young recruit. Dad never talked much about his time in Japan until a few years before his death. I had no idea, for instance, that he came very close to being in the thick of the Pacific arena. As a matter of fact, his ship was headed for duty in that part of the world when the atomic bomb was dropped. So instead, he was part of the occupation forces that tried to repair some of the damage. Obviously, it was still a very dangerous duty. The Americans were seen as the enemy by the populace for quite some time.

I even learned recently that he had seen numerous dead bodies in a river over there. I had always thought it odd growing up that Dad would never attend funerals of even close family members. But I believe now that he was just very anxious about seeing dead bodies again. It took the fortitude of a true soldier to attend his own wife's funeral, just a few months prior to his own. To see her dear face again in a casket was, I'm sure, the hardest duty he ever had to perform.

But like all duty, when it is driven by love--whether love for country or love for a spouse--God provides the strength. So I'm praying this Veteran's Day that we all have the strength to face the hard duties in our life. God didn't just promise us eternal life and freedom from sin, but also strength and power and peace of mind. So while we are thinking of our vets, who have and are sacrificing so much, let's also take hold of all that Jesus offers, as a result of His sacrifice for us...and our duties will seem much lighter.