Grandma Mary's Legacy

Last night I attended a baby shower.  A room full woman celebrating the new life due to make an appearing to be held by many willing arms in a few short weeks.  As women, we love celebrating new love and giving gifts and advice to new mommas.

We played a few games, colored sheets of paper for an alphabet book, and a devotional was shared.  Our speaker asked for memories of times with our mothers and grandmothers.  It made me think on my Grandma Mary.

Grandma is Mary is my father's mother.  She was a spunky lady confined to a chair, her body riddled with arthritis.  She lost her mobility during middle age and by the end of her life struggled to bring food to her mouth.  She loved MN Twins baseball, her little radio, and visitors.  

I was a young teenager when she moved to her Heavenly home.  But she left me a legacy of hope and contentment.

Although she had not walked in many years, could no longer care for her home, run around town visiting her family and friends, play baseball, and was completely dependent on someone to help her, I never heard her complain.  I believe she wondered why she was crippled, why she was received this lot in life.  

Rather than complain to me, one of her 3 grandchildren, she rather shared with me all the activities she and I were  going to do when God healed her.  She had complete faith in God's healing and she would receive it soon.  And when this happened, she and I were going to get in the Dodge Pick-Up and get ice cream.  We were going to play baseball at the next church picnic.  She had fun adventures planned for us.

She was extremely interested in my young life.  She would ask questions, listen patiently.  She had  me help her fix small treats.  I remember she would sit quietly sometimes.  I figured out later, she was praying.  Grandma was a prayer warrior.  Grandma knew that physical limitations did not impact her prayer life.  In fact, her lack of mobility likely refined her into a mighty prayer warrior.  

She accepted her lot in life.  It was not easy, comfortable.  There were times of loneliness, discomfort, and frustration.  She never lost her hope in God's healing.  She always dreamed of those things she longed to do.  She shared her faith and hope in the Lord Jesus with a young girl.

Healing did not come this side of Heaven.  Many years later, I asked my dad about Grandma's arthritis.  A condition usually riddled with pain.  He told me that Grandma did not have the typical pain associated with Rheumatoid Arthritis.  Although God did not heal her completely of the affects of arthritis He healed her of pain.

I have wondered what kind of lady Grandma would have been had she not been crippled and immobile.  Her faith in God was strong and vibrant, I think she would have continued in strong faith.  But would she have been that prayer warrior?  Who would I be today?  Where would I be today without those prayers?  

Today I am convinced, Grandma is at the feet of the Jesus praising and worshiping standing tall and strong.  She is probably organizing baseball games, running through the grass, and perhaps there is a sunshine green Dodge pick up she is driving on those streets of Gold.

What kind of legacy will I leave?  Will I leave a legacy of faith and hope?  Will I be found faithful in any circumstance?  

A momma's heart

The end of the school year approaches.  Another academic year of my child's life is nearly complete.  Each year we anticipate the freedom from the rigid structure and schedule of the school year into a more fluid schedule.  This year, though, as the end nears, my heart swells and my eyes threaten to leak.  Although, I do look forward to the summer months, this end of the school year marks a beginning of an end to our current family life. This academic year, my youngest child will only have one remaining year of high school to complete.  One year, that will pass quickly and then .... it's done.  I've been here before, the senior year, with our older child.  It is an emotional year.  This year threatens to be more momentous as it being our final time, can my momma's heart hold up?

As I ponder this next twelve months, my momma's heart grips with a mixture of pride and grief.  Pride of the amazing young lady this child is and how privileged I am to be her momma.  Grief in the fact that our 'formal' child rearing days are nearly over.  My husband and I have had the distinct honor of raising two girls in our home.  Parenthood did not live up to my dreams.  In many ways it surpassed them and devastated them at the same time.  I have loved our little family, our days together, and now I am looking at empty nest square in the face.

Last night, my baby, attended her junior prom.  She and I had a delightful time preparing for the event including selecting the dress to the actual preening in the hours prior. With all the preening complete, the sight before my eyes was mystifyingly beatitful.  My girl, who has the biggest heart, usually donning easy to wear clothes to participate in any pick-up game/activity, looked stunning in her gown, hair coiffed and curled, and make-up applied.  This beauty contains a golden gem inside of a heart of gold.   As I pondered her, I watched her true beauty shine forth from the depth of her heart.

This child of mine, included me in her day.  Allowing me in her preparations rather than a girlfriend.  How special a time for me that has left me in  a puddle.  I am not a fashionista or make-up artist.  As we preened together, I knew this was a special time.  I tried to savor the moments, knowing they are fleeting.  I tried not to envision her potential wedding day, but I couldn't help it.    I get to be her momma, her goodness does not come from me but from her love of Jesus.  Want a peek at her beauty?  Ok,  just a peek:

Junior prom is now history, in a few weeks she will complete her junior year and embark on the senior year.  Summer will bring senior photo session.  In the fall, I will attempt to hold back the tears as I watch her play her final high school soccer games, attend homecoming, complete the milestones of childhood.  In a few short months, I will be hosting a party to celebrate her graduation.  And then it will be off to college.  BUT WAIT.....  I am going to much too quick.  Right now, I am going to enjoy these moments and live in the moment.    I WILL savor every moment to the very last.  I will smile with pride through tears and enjoy all these moments.

God gave me these precious children for a time.  I have done the best I could to raise them in His sight.  I have failed and succeeded.  I have held on too tight and sometimes too loosely.  The letting go is bittersweet.  The empty nest is daunting and exhilarating.

I keep holding onto God's promises.  For many years, through the intense child rearing,  I clung to the promise of :

Isaiah 40:31 (NIV)but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

 Now as I look into the empty nest and our lives shifting I more hold onto:

Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

I do not know the future but I know the One who does know the future.  It does not mean I will not weep as I say good-bye.

I feel guilty doing nothing

The year 2014 was an intense year for my family.  I felt like we were still recovering from a few intense years previous to 2014 but as 2013 ended, the stress level was pushed to a whole new level.  As 2014 approached, we were already in the midst of our first born's senior year of high school, trying to savor all those last moments of her childhood, planning celebrations, and preparing the launch to college.  Just as the holidays approached in December 2013, a crisis grenade exploded at my husband's place of employment.

We plunged in 2014 grasping to the knot in our rope, completely dependent upon God's strength.   The darkest daylight days of the year, holidays, transitioning family life, snow, epic cold, and an epic crisis.  It was intense.  It was difficult for me to grasp as I really thought the a few events of the recent years had been trying to the core.  I remember being thankful for many things as I attempted to remain cool on top while peddling furiously underneath.  It became a period of leaning on God's strength daily.

A full year later we were mostly back to typical life.  Child graduated and in college, work schedule back to typical hours as the crisis abated, regular life stresses, we were still finding our footing and recovering.  Christmas morning, my husband quietly spoke in my ear my present: vacation.

One word, vacation.  My face lit up, I squealed with delight, and hugged him tight.  Vacation: time together, time without his employer, time without daily pressures, no cooking or cleaning, adventure, and rest.  Now to chose a destination.  The destination selection took some doing but we finally settled on a Bahama cruise.  Our first adventure on a cruise ship.  With some trepidation I awaited departure day, entirely unsure of this adventure on a ship.  I admit to a little concern of finding my sea legs.

Our time finally arrived and we skipped off on our adventure on a cold, wintry morning.  Evening found us in summer temperatures and palm trees.  Vacation at last.  Five days away from everyday, normal routine and pressures.  We put our electronic devices away and savored the warm sun and new experiences.

During this incredible time, I found myself sitting in the sun, toes in sand, soaking in much needed Vitamin D from the sun.  It was great but I was feeling guilty.  Guilty for sitting there instead of exploring the island, or snorkeling in the ocean, or doing some adventure.  I said to my husband, "I feel so guilty.  Is it okay to just sit here?  Shouldn't we be doing something?"  All the while desiring to just sit with my toes in the sand.  A juxtaposition.  We agreed to just sit and savor the sand, water, and sun.  It was an effort to r.e.l.a.x. and enjoy.  But I did and I loved it!

The next day, my headache I was battling steam rolled into a migraine making me miserable.  I was forced to lay down, be still, and rest - miserable as I was, I was forced into rest.  I was on vacation, sick, miserable and again dependent upon God for strength.  But my friends, God is faithful.  Allowing me to participate in the scheduled dolphin swim, the migraine abating for a window of time for this amazing life long dream to be full-filled.  Either side of this time, I was incapacitated with migraine symptoms.  Later God showed me a path to relief through acupuncture allowing me to fully enjoy the final day of our vacation.  On that final day, I fully enjoyed sitting, doing nothing productive, enjoying the warm sun and the presence of my family on a beautiful ship.  I rested.

I am now back to the normal pressures of life, cooking, cleaning, snow, and cold.  A week later, the vacation glow is beginning to fade but I am attempting to keep it alive with hopes of another trip next winter.  It might not happen but the hope of it makes me smile with pleasure and brings up sweet memories.  Although the vacation glow is fading, the few days of rest has renewed me, giving me new perspective and energy to rejoin the regular routine and stress of life.

As I return, I am surrounded with information about boundaries, Sabbaths, and rest.  Today in Bible study we discussed how our culture values busyness, how we often find validation in our activities.  Yet God commanded Sabbath or rest.  God modeled rest, by resting the 7th day following 6 days of creation.  I am seeing a lesson God desires me to learn and embrace:  rest, guilt free rest.  It promises to be a journey which started in the most delightful way called vacation.  I stand in awe of a loving God that starts a lesson in a discipline of rest with a fantastic, restful vacation.  Rest will not always be in the form of vacation, but I will learn how to rest at home surrounded by regular life.   Looking forward to see how God provides rest.

Lost Mitten

Baby, it is cold outside!  Air temperatures around -15 (F) with windchill hovering around -30 (F).  This means it is cold and windy.  The air hurts your face as one ventures outside the door.  The skies clear and blue with bright sunshine glaring off the snow covered ground.  Living in the upper mid-west, I am not a stranger to cold temperatures of winter.  

I live in a region where I have multiple wardrobes.  One for each of the four seasons and another one for my ever fluctuating weight requiring different sizes.  Clothing storage in our home is of utmost importance.  We have multiple jackets,coats, hats, mittens, scarves to handle all the varying temperature swings.  Yesterday required my warmest layers as I ventured out.

I have a lovely pair of mittens that are luxuriously thick and plush. They are black with a cuff of faux white seal.  They keep my hands comfortable in the frigid air.  As well as warm, they are fashionable.  I feel pretty in my mittens.  Sadly, this is my second pair as I lost the first pair.  

I love my mittens for when I am outdoors but when I venture indoors, they need to come off.  Here is the problem with my wonderful mittens.  They are a bit bulky, thus not fitting into a jacket pocket.  They must be carefully watched as to not wander off.  Tucked inside a purse, clutched tightly, checked-on frequently to ensure they do not lose their way and become a set of lost mittens sitting in some lost & found drawer with other mis-placed mittens and hats.  Every place has a collection of lost winter wear.  (This is an idea for a great animated film - lost mittens & hats, like Toy Story or Island of Misfit Toys.  Did I just stumble onto a million dollar idea?)

Okay, yesterday I wore my treasured mittens.  I admired them as I drove down the road and relished that my fingers were not freezing.  I was out for the day on multiple errands.  Upon reaching my destination, I determined my mittens would be much safer on the passenger seat as I ventured in and out.  I left them, tucking my hands into my pockets as I dashed across the parking lot.  

Mission accomplished and feeling very good about  my day, I returned home.  I gathered up my packages and mittens from the car.  I entered the house and began sorting through everything.  To my dismay, I only had one mitten, ONE!  I have two hands and only one mitten.  How could my mitten be lost sitting on the passenger seat with my hat?  I retraced my steps to the car, searched the car, called every store I visited in hopes someone turned it in, I was baffled and disappointed.  I just could not figure out how it disappeared, I was sure it was there on the seat when I arrived home.  That's it I thought, cheap mittens for me from now on, they never get lost, I have several pairs many years old sitting in the basket.

I even ventured a little prayer about my lost mitten.  You know, the prayer of the lost cause, not expecting anything.  A prayer about an item that surely God doesn't need to be bothered with as I know He has bigger issues in which to attend, I have a few bigger issues for Him than my lost mitten.  But I recall talking to God about my lost mitten, not expecting anything, really it's a mitten, easily replaced.  Mittens are lost everyday.

This morning, another bitterly cold morning, I arise to awaken my daughter and let the dog out.  I cracked the door open just enough for the dog to venture out to do her business and made my coffee.  As I opened the door to summon the dog back in, I saw across the patio in the dim light, a black spot.  Could it be? Is it really? Oh it is:  my lost mitten!  With my pajamas on, I threw on shoes and ran out into the -15 temperature to retrieve it.  You heard right, no jacket, no socks, into the freezing temps, I'm  a northern girl, I can handle it for 10 seconds.

I was reminded how much God cares for me.  Even though I figured a lost mitten was too small an item for Him to bother, He saved my mitten for me.  Waiting until the right moment to reveal it to me.  I wonder if He watched in delight as I excitedly retrieved my mitten much as I watch my own child take delight.  Is it difficult for Him to wait in anticipation of my happiness as it is for me when I know my child will squeal with delight?  I wonder if He wanted to wake me up in the night to show me my lost mitten.  And I wonder if I missed His small, still voice yesterday as I searched and said my little fatalistic prayer.  

Lesson of the day:  God cares and takes delight in me.  I believe He desires me to bring everything to Him, even things like lost mittens.  I need to remember this everyday.  I desire to practice a better discipline of talking to God about all things, not just the crisis prayers.  He is a friend and father. 

Today I stand in awe in His delight of me to save my mitten and allow me to find it.  It has made my day! 

For This Child I Prayed

For this child I prayed.

Yes, I am guilty of this statement.  I desired to be a parent and I prayed for a baby.  A baby  of my own, made of mine and my husbands DNA, grown in my own womb.  A child  and then another, that would share similar traits of looks and personality as us, their parents.  For this I prayed.

What I didn't realize is that I prayed for:

Pregnancy and all it entails:  morning sickness, compressed bladder, pressed lungs making it hard to breathe, kicked ribs, insomnia, morning sickness, discomfort in any position, fatigue.  Where was the glow of pregnancy, the delight in my growing belly?  Both pregnancies, my third trimester in the hot summer months in an old house lacking the ability to have central air conditioning.  I prayed for September babies?  I prayed for the third most humid summer on record (at that time) during this pregnancy of my first baby?

Labor and Delivery:  I prayed for the experience of 'natural' child birth.  Yeah, NO - thank you for the pain killers in child #1.  Child #2 came so quickly, it was all natural. Yes, for this I prayed.  I prayed for the drive to the hospital in the wee hours to have a car drive at us head-on, and arrive to the emergency room driveway filled with police cars and one car full of bullet holes?    The pain and discomfort of bringing a new person into the world.  Once one is pregnant, there really is no way out of this experience if baby is carried to full-term birth.  I prayed for labor and delivery, what was I thinking??

Now let's get serious, I prayed for a child and then another.  I prayed for the opportunity to be a mother, to snuggle in the wonder 'baby' smell, to hold a sleepy infant, to play blocks with a toddler, to inspire an adolescent, to mentor a young adult entering the world.  I really had NO idea what I was praying.

I instead got a smelly baby prone to spitting up all over me.  I paced the floors with an unsettled, not sleeping infant.  Oh, yes we played blocks but spent more time in will battles about what can and cannot be done.  And, indeed I inspired an adolescent to behave or else!  Mentoring a young adult?  No one told me she wouldn't care for my wisdom at this stage in her life.  I prayed for a child with common DNA, what was I expecting of a child of two independent minded parents?   Experienced parents can start chortling and busing a gut in laughter here.

I prayed for a different body shape, forever changed.  I prayed for the now mis-aligned teeth from a head bang of a toddler.  I prayed for terror as I watch my daughter receive a concussion on the sledding hill.  I prayed with grief as my children were mis-treated and overlooked.  I prayed for tears that flow at the amazement of these people in my life.

I did not realize I actually prayed for the opportunity to grow my personal prayer life.

I prayed for sleep during the sleepless nights with a infant with her days and nights mixed up.
I prayed over sick baby struggling for to breathe with a case RSV.
I prayed for the screaming toddler stop throwing tantrums.
I prayed desperately for baby doll and blanket to be found.
I prayed for success in potty training for a long time.
I prayed for fast end to long road trips.
I prayed that I would maintain some sort of control as this child is much more like me and sometimes like Dad than I prefer.
I prayed for nap time, bed time, and Daddy to hurry up and come home.
I pray for patience and then more patience.  And then even more patience.
I pray for friendships and the hurts when these friends caused deep pain
I prayed for the tearful child not selected for the prize role (how was this talent missed?)
I prayed for our lives through driving lessons, truly life and death scenarios.
I prayed for academic lessons to be learned.
I pray for safety, health, love, protection,
I pray adequacy in this role of parenting.
I pray for time to slow down to try to capture some of these moments.
I pray for wisdom in raising this child, it is such a huge responsibility!
I pray for the child on her own in college.
I pray for those difficult teenage years.
I pray for the ability to let go

Yes, for this child I prayed.  I wouldn't have it any other way.  My life is much richer with these precious gifts from God.  I cherish each and every prayer lesson.  I had no idea that these little people entrusted to me would teach me so much about my faith in God and the value and gift of prayer.

Grace on an empty stomach

It is mid-week, my husband and I are out for dinner.  This is not a typical mid-week meal.  It was a night out together to try to smooth out the rough edges of a tough day.  I knew it would not be glamorous or elegant yet anytime with my beloved is special.   It was unplanned, plans altered, and moods low.  It was an attempt to bring comfort to a bad day.

We arrived at the the restaurant, one we do not frequent too often.  Indeed this was turning out to be a pre-Valentine's Day evening.  We were surprised how busy it was as we were handed our pager for a 25-30 minute for a table.  No problem, we were not pressed for time.  We found a spot to wait for our table.

In less time than expected, our table became available.  We were handed menus and instructed our server would be with us shortly.  We poured over the menus, discussed our options, made decisions, chatted, and ...  waited.  Observation indicated tables around us had servers giving them attention.  We were still waiting for anyone to notice we were there withering away in hunger.

We now have a choice in our behavior.  We were about to become very unhappy customers.  Hubby was not in a terribly patient mood following his less than pleasant day.  This outing was to offer a respite from 'problems'.  Looking around perplexed and offering body language of 'what's up?' did not change our situation.  It was time to approach staff, my husband chose to find one who most looked like a manager.

The the problem identified, a new server unaware our table was her responsibility.  Ahhhh... no problem, we are happy to have a server.  We were treated with extra care, given an appetizer, and checked on regularly, perhaps too frequently.  Our server?  She was nervous to serve irritated guests and to have her failure to understand the table chart made aware to not only to the customer but her boss as well. The apologies from both she and the manager were sincere and plentiful.  She was also very attentive and sweet.

As our meal progressed, I tried to reassure our novice server that all is well in our world.  I could not help but notice that she couldn't relax.  I am not sure she was relaxed in her job all evening as it was only day two for her.  And then there is my hubby who has an aura of intimidation which he does not apologize for at all.  (To those who know and love him, he's really a softy.)  We continued to offer grace and encouragement as she did her best to make our experience pleasant.  She succeeded with novice skill.

During our evening we had a choice: anger or grace.  We had a right to be irritated and perhaps even angry.  The restaurant was failing in their responsibility to costumer care.  They had two hungry customers not receiving attention.  With diplomacy in alerting them to our situation, we heard the source of the failure, an apology, and resolution.  We then had the opportunity to give grace to an embarrassed, stressed novice employee or to be irritated and sour.

I am so glad we gave her grace.   This young gal is not much older than my own daughters, it was easy for me to envision them in the same position.  I treated her as I would want anyone to treat my own precious girls.  She is a new employee, a novice, with good intentions to perform well.  Anger would not have benefited this young lady.  Perhaps anger was merited but it was our choice to give grace.  Anger would have ruined not only our young server's evening but our evening as well.  Grace allowed for space to learn and enjoy the evening.

Grace:  it allowed for an evening to connect as a couple.  We enjoyed our meal as we discussed the day's events.
Grace:  it gave space for the rough edges of the day to smooth out.
Grace:  it allowed a young person to grow and learn.

It is not always easy to choose grace, especially on an empty stomach and blood sugar levels dropping or in a stressful situation.  But I am learning it usually proves beneficial in most situations.