Still Standing Strong

"The daffodil is our doorside queen, She pushes upward the sword already, To spot with sunshine the early green."

                                                                                   William Cullen Bryant

A week ago it snowed.  Not unusual, it snows in Maryland almost every winter, except this time it wasn’t winter, spring had sprung.  The daffodils were out in full bloom, the promise of warmer weather was in the air, and then a cold front hit the DC area. Now, there were daffodils blooming on snow covered hills.  Daffodils are hardy flowers, despite chilly temperatures, when the snow melted and the mercury rose again, the beautiful, golden flowers continued surviving and thriving. 

Since the first of the year I have lived life at a furious pace.  Baby Lucy arrived in January, our fifth granddaughter and first blessing of the New Year.  Once home, nights and days ran together and even though I was one tired Grammie, I wouldn’t trade those special middle of the night snuggles for anything.  Three weeks later, our sixth granddaughter, little Livie arrived and I was off to join in the fun at the Willett household, so many precious moments with Aubree and Livie, their mom and dad and Mimi who had also come from Florida to help.  I’d be lying if I didn’t say, after almost a month of helping with new babies I was exhausted, but life continued at a furious pace.

Bob and I both turned a year older in January, a loved one became ill and needed hospitalization, our oldest granddaughter broke her arm ice skating, family birthdays were celebrated, we attended our grandchildren’s school events, I made a guest author appearance, hosted my book club, continued to help with the little ones, grieved the sudden death of a dear friend, and most recently had family here for Easter dinner, there were 28 at the table that day.  In other words, life raced on.

I enjoyed that snowy spring day; it gave me time to slow down, sip some tea, think, reflect and look at daffodils blooming in the snow.  Those hardy daffodils stood tall and spotted the landscape with their surprising yellow faces, defying the late cold snow to bring them down.  As I watched the snow falling, I felt like one of those sunny blooms.  Despite the demands (and blessings,) of the last few months I was still standing, still enjoying the special moments and soldiering through the difficult times.  Thanks to the Lord, through the demands of the previous weeks, I found out I was pretty hardy too.

Things seem to be settling into a more normal routine finally.  I think I’m even starting to catch up on my rest.  Hoping soon to welcome warmer temps and cherry blossoms, but for now the daffodils (and me) are still standing strong.

I've Never Been Good At Waiting

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know them full well."
                                                                                       Psalm 139:13-14.

                                     
I’ve never been very good at waiting.  I like my life to move at a pretty fast pace.  I love projects that can be completed quickly, and I like moving on to something new as soon as possible.  But some things, I’ve come to realize, just can’t be rushed.  Babies are one of those things.

Since last spring I have watched as two of my daughters have transformed from slender and lean to round and full.  Their moves have gone from fleet and flowing, to heavier and slower.  Things that were effortless now require more energy, and some things are just not worth the effort.  Their bellies have grown week by week and now, there’s no denying, those tiny lives within are close to making an appearance, but . . . we wait.  I’ve never been very good at waiting.

Somehow, it’s almost harder watching my babies have babies than it was to give birth myself.   I have wanted to share the burden with each of them, to ease their discomfort, to share their pain. I’ve always wanted to lighten their loads since the moment I birthed them. Recently, I have slipped into sleep each night praying they would find rest despite numerous trips to the bathroom and the need to awaken just to turn from one side to the other.  The time for their deliveries is fast approaching, and I know that it is hard to watch my children labor for theirs, to wait with them through those final hours; I’ve already been by the bedside to see four of my granddaughters born.  I’ve never been very good at waiting.

So much has changed since I had my babies thirty years ago.  The nurseries are high tech now, wipe warmers, video monitors, and gadgets to track diaper changes and nap times have replaced, cool wipes, peeking in the door and over the crib rails, and pencil and paper.  It’s astonishing!  As wonderful as all the new conveniences are, happily the important things remain the same. Expectant mothers still wash fold and fill drawers with tiny shirts and socks and gowns and marvel that the baby will be small enough to fit them.  Diaper pails still stand at the ready (better, less stinky ones). Tiny tubs, bottles of shampoo and lotion, and fluffy towels are prepared and waiting for bath time, but most importantly the hopes and dreams and longing to hold the life within are still the same.  The slowing of time as the end grows near and the waiting for the contractions, the steady waves that will bear them out from their mother’s seas still remains, it’s the same.  I’ve never been very good at waiting.

                                          Photo by Ellie Bjerkaas

Thankfully, with babies, the waiting is worth it all.  Amazingly, these little ones arrive just on time, no surprise to the Creator, who after all, according to scripture, knit them in their mother’s wombs, formed them, and already knows everyone of their days.  My three were so worth the wait as were the beautiful babies they have already birthed. The counting down has definitely begun. I start each day wondering if this will be a special little someone’s birthday. Thankfully, before long we will meet these, new little people, and not surprisingly, I have to say . . . I just can’t wait!

Finding Christmas Joy

I peel back the backing on the first of three electrodes and place it three fingers down from my collar bone.  For many years I’ve been checked for missed heart beats, but recently they have become more frequent and have lasted longer, so now the changing of electrodes every other day for 30 days has become my new normal.  There’s no denying that a few of the episodes lately have frightened me.  The pounding, skipping, and erratic heart beat a few weeks back hurried me to my cardiologist and now, here I am with a heart monitor for the entire Christmas season.

I like to finish all my Christmas preparations early so that I can truly focus on my personal walk toward the manger each year.  This year has been no exception, barely a week into the month and the tree is up and decorated, the halls are decked, presents are mostly wrapped, stockings grace the mantle, and the cards and Christmas letter are signed, tucked into envelopes and ready to be dropped in the mailbox.  Prepared, but not peaceful, ready but not restful, every missed beat causing me anxiety and sadly robbing me of some of the joy I normally feel this time of the year.

It’s hard to admit my faith is that shallow sometimes.  I’ve tried to focus on the Lord, to trust Him for every day He gives me and to not let my anxiety rule my head, or my heart in any sense of the word.  The truth is every skipped beat reminds me that I’m not immortal physically, that one day I have to say goodbye to loved ones and to the life that I know and find so comfortable in its familiarity.  That’s especially difficult to think about this beautiful time of the year, so filled with family and friends.  Happily, rest and some increase in medication will probably go a long way to making my ticker a bit more stable.  But, in the meantime I’m hoping to find that missing joy.

It is hard to make changes, to leave the familiar for the unfamiliar, to relinquish comfort and peace for hardship and sacrifice, but isn’t that what God’s Son did on that starry night over 2000 years ago.  I can’t imagine leaving the beauty and magnificence of paradise for this broken and torn world, and yet that is what we celebrate this time of year, the birth of a Savoir who left the throne room of heaven for a straw lined manger in Bethlehem.  Thankfully that reality has done more to change my thumping heart than any other.

So many people are dealing with difficult challenges, losses, and other hardships, so I hope we can join hands, calm our hearts (even those missing a few beats here and there), and follow the star to the Savior this special season.  That’s where the missing joy can be found and it’s what I’m wishing for all of my precious family and friends this Christmas.  Hoping there will be peace on earth and in your heart and mine . . . do you think that will show up in my cardio output! I hope so.

Packing up the Memories

I looked around the empty rooms.  The built in shelves emptied of books, shadows dancing on newly exposed hardwood floors, our voices echoing under the high ceilings, I’d never seen this house empty.  Packers and movers had filled and moved box after box the last three days.  We had rolled up the rugs and taken the trash to the transfer station, and now it was time to turn the key in the door for the last time. How could this tiny house hold so many memories?

I needed to take one last look around.  I leaned into the kitchen.  It looked so big without the table and chairs, but the “brick” flooring; red checkered wall paper and curtained windows still looked cheery in the afternoon sunshine.  Closing my eyes I could see my grandmother by the stove, stirring the big pot of chili she always had waiting when we arrived for our visits.  Beyond the kitchen I knew there would be pies and other goodies on the enclosed back porch.  In later years my Uncle’s tea pot collection had graced the area beneath the window.  Best of all, with my eyes still shut, I could almost hear the chatter around the table nights as we “little” ones lay in the front room going to sleep.  That’s how we learned all about our family history and the amazing history of the small Indiana town where my parents had met and married, where my grandparents had set up house, where I had visited every year of my life.

Taking a step back into the main room of the house I glanced over to where the piano had been until just a few hours before.  That piano, with my Uncle at the keyboard filled that little house with music for as long as I could remember.  I had even tickled those keys from time to time.  My eye’s moved to the empty bookshelves, we are a family of avid readers, I think it’s in our genes, summers I had pulled books off those shelves to enjoy during some of the time we spent visiting my grandmother.  She had worked for Donnelly’s publishing company, and so the shelves’ contents flowed into other areas and rooms over the years.  I sent up a little prayer that the future occupants would refill those shelves with new tomes.

The sun splashed across the front room as I peeked through the doorway.  This room had transformed many times over the years, primarily a bedroom when I was younger it had become a living room once my Uncle had moved in.  I could see the rose bush covered in pink blossoms outside the front windows, late for summer roses, but flourishing none the less.

I didn't walk into the bedroom, my grandmother had taken her long braid down in there every night, my Uncle and Aunt had been born in that room.  I thought I’d seen enough, I could tell it was time to close the front door, turn the key and finally walk away.  I didn't make it to the door before my eyes blurred and filled.  Bob wrapped me in a big hug.  He didn't try and stop the flow, tears slipped silently down my cheeks and onto the floor.  So, I left those tear drops on the hardwood, turned the old doorknob, and put the key into the lock, I wasn't just closing the door, I was closing an era.

I stood on the front porch and looked at the big tree just beyond the railing; I had played under that tree many times. Memories of running off the porch and to the end of the lot to wave to the engineers, who blew the train whistle as they clickity clacked down the tracks behind the house, made me smile.  Despite the late fall weather some branches still held their yellow leaves, and they whispered goodbye as the wind blew through them and rustled the golden blanket surrounding the trunk.  Walking to the car a big brown squirrel chattered down at me, I felt like he was letting me know he’d be around to watch over things. We pulled off the lot one last time and drove past the street sign on the corner, I watched the house grow smaller and vanish. I knew at that moment that I’d never really leave 710 Tuttle Avenue behind, I had packed up and taken all the wonderful memories with me, and they were safe in my heart.

Time to Reboot!

                          Sign I fell in love with on the wall of the crab shore at the beach.

I love computers when they work and work well. However, when they don’t I become easily frustrated, irritated, frazzled, and want to give them the boot, so that’s what I usually do . . . reboot!  Lately I've felt a lot like a computer that’s not working, and because of that I have become frustrated, irritated, and frazzled.  My mind is slow, my recall is poor, I’m on overload and wish I had a reboot button.

Sadly I stop functioning well when I go into overdrive.  My days have been really full recently, full of events, good and bad, that have come one on top of another, fast and furious.  There is no end in sight, it’s called life, and I am trying figure out how to reboot and reload and keep abreast of it all.

                                              Me, leaning on a firm foundation :)
Several things have helped me regain my grip.  First of all I realized I wasn't spending much time in prayer or the Bible.  For someone whose faith is central, that quickly takes a toll.  Quiet time conversing with the Lord, reading His Word and lifting cares, concerns, and loved ones up to Him quickly lightens my daily load.  It’s nice to remember I’m not alone in shouldering all that life brings to bear each day.  Verses like Psalm 62:1, “My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him.  He alone is my rock and my salvation, he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.” , encourage me. Scripture may not mean much to a non-believer, but to me, it is a great comfort and starts my day with a promise of rest and strength for all the hours ahead of me. I’m a great advocate of meditation, it’s like hitting the “refresh” button.

                                         Me and Bob at the beach

Another thing that helped me get back on top of my game was some self-pampering.  A trip to the beach with my honey and some close friends, listening to waves and sea gulls, talking, laughing, eating, resting, and breaking my normal routine turned out to be the ultimate “reboot”.  I’m not one for running away from problems and concerns, but I am for shelving them temporarily when the load gets particularly heavy. The unexpected death of my brother-in-law was the straw that broke the camel’s back; I could hardly wait to feel the sand beneath my feet.   My energy level rose each day at the beach and I returned home renewed.  I highly recommend mini, restorative retreats.

Finally, to keep things from heating up, I’m trying to slow down and take things a day at a time and not look too far ahead.  Just like my computer needs to be turned off to cool down from time to time, I’m learning to turn my brain off from time to time, letting it cool down and reload.  Sometimes just throwing a load of laundry in so I can check something quick off the “to do” list, gives me a lift. Other times, I need something more substantial, like quality time with my kids, grand kids  husband or friends to refill my tank, I’m an extrovert and people are my pepper uppers.

Me and Aubree at the petting farm

                                              Me and my grand daughter Katie

The world is not going to stop turning, life is not going to slow down. Every moment is important, I definitely need to hit the  “save”  button from time to time so I won’t forget any memories or waste any time, but for now, rebooting was most important, and I’m back online.  

                                     Me and my dear Australian friend, Chris

"Fragile" Handle with Care

“Snowflakes are one of nature's most fragile things, but just look at what they can do when they stick together.”


Yesterday, for the first time ever, I raised my right hand, took an oath and then took the witness stand.  I was in court to testify as a collaborative witness for a friend who had finally reached the end of a long journey, the termination of her marriage.  I sat there looking around the courtroom. This was not a happy day for me, and I felt uncomfortable watching the scene unfold.  Tension was high, and it was a relief to have this part of the process over when we exited the courtroom.  I knew her life going forward would be better, but this experience reminded me of how very fragile life and its parts are.

Two days ago I attended the funeral of a remarkable woman, a friend from church.  She fought a three year battle with cancer that inspired everyone whose path she crossed.  She was witty, compassionate, courageous, strong and brave, but life is fragile and her passing was yet another reminder that this life is fleeting and we only have the guarantee of this moment. That’s a hard lesson for her daughters and three precious granddaughters to learn at their young ages.

For several years I have prayed for two little boys, from two different families who are battling Leukemia.  Their lives should be full of soccer practices, birthday parties with school mates, making big splashes in pools, and silly faces in mirrors, but instead they spend hours hooked to monitors with tubes pushing healing drugs into their little bodies.  Their day to day health is very fragile, their parents never know when they will need to grab the overnight bags that stand ready by the door and head to the hospital for emergency treatments.

These reminders can be painful and sometimes frightening.  It’s hard to watch a marriage crumble or be reminded of how fragile life is for young and old. Thankfully, I don’t face these hard places by myself.  My faith, my family and my friends are there to lift me up and remind me that I am never alone in this precarious journey called life.  I am also so thankful that the pendulum usually swings both ways, and for every sorrow there seems to be a blessing.

Last weekend my great nephew was baptized.  It was such a special moment as his father’s father took this precious little boy into his arms, and gently sprinkled his tiny head, a grandfather and a pastor, committing his grandson to the Lord.   I was also filled with the joy of new life as I watched my fifth granddaughter’s little heart beating on the sonogram monitor, safe in her mother’s womb a few days ago.  We had sent a precious saint homeward this week, but new life was also abounding.

The day in the courtroom was difficult, but today Bob and I will attend a wonderful celebration of marriage, the 60th anniversary of a very special couple.  Despite the fact that some couples won’t survive the sometimes bumpy road of marriage in this fallen world, there are others who are inspirational in their devotion, commitment and love.

Many years ago, I stitched a sampler that said, “Life is fragile, handle with prayer.”  It’s simple, I know, but its truth has seen me through some hard swings of life’s pendulum.  Today, I will celebrate this special anniversary with my sweet friends and embrace these happy moments. In the future, I will hold fast to my faith, family and friends when life sends challenges, because in realty, it’s me, not life, that’s breakable, and without a UPS box and packaging, stamped “fragile”, I know it’s that firm foundation that’s going to get me safely to my final destination.  Praying all my family and friends will handle and be handled with care and prayer, because your fragile selves are precious to me.

The Butterfly Theory

"Love is like a butterfly: It goes where it pleases and it pleases wherever it goes."

Things have been exciting at our house lately; we have two new grandchildren on the way in the coming year.  We have also recently welcomed two, adorable great nephews into the clan.  All these new little lives are a blessing, and yet sometimes I worry about all that they will face in the future.  I have been thinking a lot about how their parents will need to prepare them and raise them for this time.  One thing I know, the next generation is going to have to be strong, strong in mind, in heart and in spirit.

In many ways, I think equipping today’s children for life will be a bit like preparing an army for battle.  These little ones will need to know about all the enemies that will try and destroy them and use them for their own gain.  They will have to work harder than some in the past to uncover truth, real truth, not the “truth” the media and others will try to force feed them.  They will have to protect their hearts and spirits from those who reject their beliefs and seek to undermine their faith and moral fiber, while professing tolerance.  They will need to train for might so that they can protect those who are even more vulnerable. Perhaps most difficult, they will need to fight their battles with love, patience, caring, and integrity, and that takes a lot of discipline and strength.  It’s a daunting task, but not impossible.




This morning I heard a devotional about the “butterfly theory”

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Butterfly_effect


Which in very basic terms means that even a butterfly’s fluttering wings eventually move the air and molecules in another part of the world.  In other words, EVERYTHING that we do affects something or someone else.  I was reminded that all that I do can change the world for good or bad and affect others positively or negatively.  It is sobering to think that one way or another, everyone my grandchildren and others in the next generation come into contact with(or even those they don’t) ,can change the course of their little lives.  I realize I can’t control what others do, but I can control what I do, to a certain extent.  I can speak kindly, hold firm to my faith and beliefs even when it’s not popular and do it kindly.  I can continue to love those I don’t always agree with, I can keep my words and dialogue civil even in debate and disagreement. I know that I fail sometimes, but in other words, when I flutter my wings I hope they eventually move the world around me in the right direction.  And, that my grandchildren benefit from that example.

I am also praying that those I know will embrace the high road. . .flutter kindly my friends. . .move the world in a positive direction. . . you too are responsible for the way the next generation (including my little ones) world's unfold, and I’m counting on you.