Faith · family · Life

Growing Pains

The RDP prompt for today is kindness. I searched my draft folder and found this incomplete post that had been written in October 2011.

When I read it this morning, I remembered some of the difficult circumstances of that time. It was years before my brother died, years before I was helping care for my mother, years and years before my father died.

Just because I wasn’t dealing with death, it doesn’t mean life was easy. I had my hands full in other ways. My children at that point ranged in age from 7 to 26. I was homeschooling two, had one in public school, some in college, some working, one married.

Without further ado, here is the unnamed post which I will call “Growing Pains.” If it feels incomplete, maybe it is.


One of the most profound things I heard Andrew Peterson say was not at Hutchmoot, but at a concert in Cortland.  He was talking about his books, the Wingfeather Saga. (Note: he was still in the process of writing the series. The final book wasn’t published until 2014.)  I didn’t write this down or record it so it may not be verbatim, but I think it’s fairly close.  He said,

The main character in these stories is a boy named Janner.  When I started writing, I saw the man he would become, but I knew that he would have to go through many trials and difficult situations to become that man.  I knew that he would have to suffer some terrible things…

I have been thinking about some of the difficulties my own children have had to endure.  They are rather small in comparison to Janner’s battles with Fangs and Gnag the Nameless, but they shape my children nonetheless.

And then I started thinking about that whole idea conversely.  If my children didn’t suffer anything, how would they turn out?

For instance, in order to develop perseverance, they need to stick with difficult situations and work them out.  If I allow them to quit every time the going was hard or not fun or required something of them, they would become the kind of adults who always take the easy path, who quit, who are unreliable.

In order for them to develop compassion, they need experience some hard times and also experience unwarranted kindness to them.  I imagine that the guy in the Good Samaritan story who had been attacked by robbers didn’t later cross to the other side of the road to avoid helping someone who was different from him, although without his experience, he may very well have looked the other way instead of helping.

To develop patience, they need some annoyances.

To develop peace, they need some turmoil.

family · Grief · Life

Terrible

The RDP prompt for today is twelve. I searched my draft folder and found this incomplete post that had last been edited in February 2016. My mother died in November 2015. I wrote so many posts following her death. I think it was my way of untangling the knot—and it helped.

This post was never completed. When I read it this morning, a flood of memories engulfed me.

Here’s the post which I called “Terrible.” At the end, I’ll try to complete it — though the 10 intervening years surely have changed where I was going with the original.


THE ORIGINAL


The one nurse said, “Well, I guess you’ve never seen a dying person before.”

She was matter-of-fact. Tart. A little smug. Definitely too cheerful.

The other nurse was different. Compassionate. Caring. Gentle.

“Can I do anything for you?” she asked every time she checked on my mother. “Can I get you anything?”

With twelve hour shifts for the nurses, we mostly saw only these two.

When I would ask the first nurse


THE 2026 COMPLETION


When I would ask the first nurse for anything, she did her job, but with so little compassion that I ended up avoiding her. Truth be told, today I can’t even picture her.

Forgettable — that’s what she was. I’m glad I didn’t spend time dwelling on her.

What I remember about my mother’s final hospital stay are definitely the kindnesses:

The other nurse bringing food in for us.

The doctor who called a family meeting. She began with these words, “Mom is very sick, and she isn’t going to get better.” She went on to talk about the fact that modern medicine could keep her alive, but we should think about what was best for her. One of my brothers still refers to her as “the doctor that told us to kill Mom.” It’s that dark famiy sense of humor that we have. I have no doubt in my mind that it was the right decision.

A group of women from the church came to the hospital room and sang to my mother. They had all been in the choir with her, and now they sang for her. It still brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it. Out-of-tune warbly voices of older women joined in some of the most beautiful music I’ve heard.

My siblings and I gathered around the bed, each telling my mother that we loved her. My youngest brother told my mother that it was okay for her to go. I had heard that it can be important to say that, and he said it, all the while rubbing her foot as he stood at that end of the bed.

I feel pity for that nurse whom I had labeled “Terrible.” Her words, I guess you’ve never seen a dying person before, are so hollow.

I don’t know what prompted them, but today, I would take her hands in mine, and say, “I hope that some day, you can gather with your family around the bed of someone you love very much, and you can be with them when they pass. It’s a beautiful thing.”

Terrible vs. beautiful. I’ll remember the beautiful.

A to Z Blogging Challenge · family

Y is for Young

There once was a couple quite young
Who together their fortunes they flung
Handsome husband, lovely wife
They had a great life
[can you finish my limerick for me?]

1953
My dad and mom –2008?

I did not imagine that I would get emotional writing this post about my parents. I went back and found a post I had written in 2011, They were young, and started to tear up.

My mom had dementia. I started this blog while I was trying to unravel that knot. The name of the blog is based on something she had done — put marmalade on my dad’s hot dog for lunch. She went through a whole marmalade phase, putting marmalade on everything.

Gosh, I’m so emotional looking at those photos, remembering.

She died in 2015. He died in 2019. There’s a huge lump in my throat.

A to Z Blogging Challenge · family

X is for X-mas (and other holidays)

There once was a family who posed
Each year in their holiday clothes
Christmas, Easter, and such
It was never too much
[can you finish my limerick for me?]


1963?
1965?
1966?
1967?

My family faithfully took posed family pictures. We suffered through them as kids.

Then those group photos morphed into pictures of birthdays, graduations, weddings, anniversaries, and family reunions.

I know X-mas was a stretch for this A-to-Z Challenge. I’m not sure exactly when many of those photos were taken, but here’s a posed family picture that was clearly Christmas:

1966?

My mother painted this picture of our family on plywood and it stood outside our house in Fort Devens at Christmas time. I marvel that she did that.

A to Z Blogging Challenge · family

W is for Washington

There once was a trip to Dee Cee
With an unplanned meet-up with fam-lee
We toured all the sites
’bout freedom and rights
[can you finish my limerick for me?]


I would be guessing at the dates. 1970? 1971? 1972?

In any event, I remember the trip my family took to Washington DC during which we ran into my cousins. We were visting, I think, the Air & Space Museum. It doesn’t really matter — we spent the rest of the day together.

I look at these photos and find it remarkable how unchanged how much Washington is.

And yet — that skyline will be changed by one man.

One man who is so insecure about his sense of self that he feels that he needs to leave his mark on everything.

Everything. Literally everything.

Without approval of any governing bodies.

e.g. Let’s build an arch that overshadows the Lincoln Memorial.

e.g. Let’s redo the reflecting pool and paint it blue.

e.g. Let’s tear down a wing of the White House and build a ballroom.

A to Z Blogging Challenge · family

V is for Vest

There once was a man in a vest
Matching tie, matching son — it’s the best!
Or is it? he thought
Matchy-matchy, or not?
[can you finish my limerick for me?]


I went through a matchy-matchy phase with my kids. Here’s proof:

They’re pretty cute, I’ll admit.

But in the end, I think I value individuality more.

A to Z Blogging Challenge · family

S is for SS Atlantic

S. S. Atlantic
Onboard the S. S. Atlantic

There was a ship: S. S. Atlantic
Young mom on-board, little bit frantic
Active toddler son
Always on the run
[can you finish my limerick for me?]


When my family left Ethiopia, we returned to the States via a ship called the S. S. Atlantic. Interestingly, the ship started off as a freighter called the S. S. Badger Marina, but was rebuilt in 1958 as a passenger liner.

My youngest brother was under two years old when we made that trip and I was only five. I don’t remember it from the voyage but my mother much later told me about how she had a leash for my brother so he wouldn’t get away from her on the ship. She said other people were very critical of that. As a mother of five sons, I totally understand why she did it.

A to Z Blogging Challenge · family

R is for Rollfast

There once was a boy named Pete
Whose Rollfast bike was real neat
And roll FAST it did
He was one happy kid!
[can you finish my limerick for me?]


I showed this photo to a friend whose first comment was something like “I bet that bike would be worth a lot today!” I looked it up. Yes, the bike is classified as vintage.

Ah, vintage.

Does that mean the person with the bike is also vintage?

Does that mean that I’m vintage?

Faith · family · Life

Serenity

From the time I was young, I had trouble waiting
Always-late-people? So irritating!
Delayed planes and buses — very frustrating
I wished I could be easygoing!

Yes, I was impatient — but wanted to change
So I started to pray (does that sound somewhat strange?)
I thought that I knew what God could/would arrange
Truth is — I asked without knowing

Well, God sent me teachers — one at a time
For a total of eight — tiny, helpless, sublime
This slow learner experienced shift paradigm
While all of my children were growing

Sereneness is seeing the blue of the sky
Feeling the sun, watching bees fly
Being in moments ‘stead of letting them by
Not going faster, but slowing

So I learned to slow down from my children eight
Little knowing, indeed, what was my next fate
Aging parents, dementia, at the next gate
No regrets — just love overflowing

For eight I witnessed their very first day
For two I was present as they passed away
Each one a miracle in its own way
Listen — do you hear the wind blowing?


This is my response to this week’s W3 challenge.

Poet of the Week, Nigel Byng, challenged us to “Write a paean about a moment of personal triumph. This can be something from your past, something you are currently experiencing, or something you envision for your future. The moment should feel meaningful—something that changed you, clarified something essential, or marked a quiet or dramatic victory.”