Perspectives On Aging

So, how do you feel about getting older?

As a child, I loved birthdays. I felt special all day long. My parents retold the stories surrounding my birth, and I never tired of hearing them. I realize now that they gifted me with much more than stories. They let me know how much they loved and valued me as a member of the family. I treasure those memories now.

Back then, I looked forward to getting older. Imagine! 

Recently we visited the home of a young couple. As we pulled into the driveway, the yellow house, the almost-finished barn, the garden patch, and the laughter of children all told a story. A story that brought out the melancholy side of me. I felt a bit wistful.

I remember when two little girls laughed and played inside our picket fence, when the tooth fairy stopped by on a regular basis, when young scientists littered the kitchen table with their projects. Young and strong, my husband and I worked hard to live out our dreams. 

How the years slip by . . .

We're not so young and strong anymore. Life has given us ample blessings to be sure, but realism has pushed our young idealism  to the side. With a lesser confidence, I find myself looking back and hoping we've pleased God in one way or another.

And in the midst of my unsettledness, I run across these words:

The righteous shall flourish like a palm tree . . . Those who are planted in the house of the Lord shall flourish in the courts of our God. They shall still bear fruit in old age; They shall be fresh and flourishing, to declare that the Lord is upright; He is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in Him (Psalm 92:12-15).

It seems God's perspective on aging is a bit different than mine. While I'm not exactly "old," I have added mother-in-law and grandma to my list of names. "Bear fruit in old age . . . fresh and flourishing" brings my focus around to look forward with expectation. Perhaps to be a voice of experience to "declare that the Lord is upright," that He is a rock, an anchor of hope no matter where our life stories lead us.

I want to bring this promise with me as the years go by. How about you?

A Day in the ICU Waiting Room

Today, I’m in the ICU waiting room at one of our local hospitals. I’ve been here for about five hours so far. My dad had triple-bypass surgery. I’m waiting to see him. 

This all came about rather suddenly. I took Dad to the ER Sunday night with left arm pain and chest discomfort. Nothing too bad. It came and went. Dad’s in good shape. He swims a half mile several times a week, takes care of his home, mows the lawn, does the yard work. He never smoked. How could he have three blockages?

My only sibling lives in Indiana. She wanted to be here today but decided she could help even more by coming to stay with him around the clock once he comes home. My mom, after a two-year battle with cancer, passed away two months ago.

So today, I rode the elevator to the second floor alone. 

I felt okay about it. I’m not one to ask people to rearrange their schedules. Besides, I had an article to finish writing and a good book to read. I knew many faithful friends were praying. After giving my dad a kiss and a squeeze (and fighting back a few tears), I found my assigned spot, prayed for the docs and for my dad, and got to work.

After an hour or two, I looked up to find a smiling face in the doorway. A dear friend came—on her only day off—to sit with me. It was wonderful to see her. Time flew as we caught up over hot drinks and granola bars. We laughed together, talked about our kids, and wondered about what the future held for both of us. Before she left, we prayed together. A sweet time in the midst of crisis. 

I’m still waiting, yet it’s been a grace-filled day.

Saturday Exchange

clean water for dirty

white rags for gray

cluttered for space

littered for swept

dusty for shine

smudges for bright

early zip for "I'm zapped"

ah-h-h-h

"I never could have done what I have done without the habits of 
punctuality, order, and diligence, without the determination 
to concentrate myself on one subject at a time."
Charles Dickens

I never could have done what I have done without the habits of punctuality, order, and diligence, without the determination to concentrate myself on one subject at a time.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/c/charlesdic121515.html#iGx2Af3Z0PdT0O3u.99I never

I never could have done what I have done without the habits of punctuality, order, and diligence, without the determination to concentrate myself on one subject at a time.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/c/charlesdic121515.html#iGx2Af3Z0PdT0O3u.99

I never could have done what I have done without the habits of punctuality, order, and diligence, without the determination to concentrate myself on one subject at a time.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/c/charlesdic121515.html#iGx2Af3Z0PdT0O3u.99

Windows of the Soul

What gifts have meant the most to you? Why?

To me, a gift is more than the essence of tissue paper and ribbon or the element of surprise. A thoughtful gift reflects the giver and his initiative to make a meaningful connection, to share something of himself, always with the benefit of the receiver in mind.

In September 2010, my mom penned some words inside a little book, her birthday gift to me.

She gave me two gifts, really. Her words of affirmation written in the flyleaf, which I treasure more than ever now that she's gone. And the words of Ken Gire in his book, Windows of the Soul.

It's not only what Mr. Gire writes, but how he writes that had my attention from the start. His chapters have nudged me to pause, to take the time to open my eyes, to see beyond the obvious. "Windows of the soul is where God finds us, or where we find Him . . . . He comes to us where we are, speaks to us in our own language, calls us by our name" (page 236).

Mom, through sharing an author she enjoyed, gave me a precious gift, a shared experience. It's a nice feeling to know she and I have read the same words, some of them over and over. Like this story:

Today I [went] to the tracks to pick up a small joy unclaimed from my childhood.

I put a line of pennies on the polished rail and returned later to find them all thin as aspen leaves. I palmed them all the way back to my office, looking at them with such childlike delight I almost stepped in a mud puddle . . . .

No matter how defaced the coin, I could still tell it was a penny. I could tell by the copper color and the round shape and by the faint outline of Lincoln's face that somehow survived the train (page 228).

Sometimes I feel like those pennies, don't you? Flattened by circumstances, grief, and loss, "thin as aspen leaves." Yet no matter how "defaced" I find myself, I pray people will still be able to recognize the outline of God's image and the In-God-We-Trust reality of my faith.

Someday, like my mom, our "faith shall be sight." The ultimate gift, wouldn't you say?

The Day After

Every Sunday, 8:00 a.m. will always have a hallowed place in my heart. Each week I will make it a point to glance at the clock . . . and remember. Remember my wonderful mother who enriched every day of my life in a myriad of ways. 

Sunday, August 11 at 8:00 a.m. marked the day Mom stepped into heaven after a long and weary journey with cancer. Finally home. In the words of David Phelps:

No more night; no more pain;
No more tears, never crying again.
Praises to the great I AM!
  We will live in the light of the risen Lamb!

Friends and family came from Illinois, Georgia, Indiana, New York, Missouri, and Pennsylvania. They brought with them words of comfort. They told stories of how Mom touched their lives. They pressed hope into our hearts with their hugs. Local friends dropped off food. Pastors prayed with us. Many cried with us.

Over forty family members gathered at the cemetery on that cloudless Thursday. Each one quietly placed a flower on the casket, signifying their final good-byes. I'll always remember the spontaneous verses of "Amazing Grace" sung by a family who has experienced the story of God's grace over multiple generations.

But when the last notes die away and loved ones have waved their tearful farewells, what then? What does a family do the day after the services, the cemetery, the formal observances?

Sometimes I think God whispers ideas into our hearts.

At 10:00 a.m. on Friday, ten of us (including little Ty) descended on my parents' home with garden tools, rakes, knee pads, and lunch. Under my dad's direction, we  pulled weeds, trimmed plants, and cut grass. Dad had kept up the yard well during my mom's illness, but the weeds seemed to take advantage of his preoccupation the last couple months of her life. In less than two hours, the flower beds and yard my mom loved so much looked immaculate. Dad looked more than pleased.

Something else happened as we worked in the sunshine. We found a sweet solace in our togetherness. We shared a common cause, a united commitment of loyalty that drew us closer. Perhaps our quiet conversations between the flowering bushes or the visible improvements somehow eased the heaviness. Working together and then sharing lunch in the back yard generated hope, and we all felt a little better. 

As we enter the new normal, we already have have some good memories. I think Mom would have liked our idea, too.

 
What has helped you and your family in seasons of grief?

Remembering Mom: Lillian Marie Ewert May 30, 1936 - August 11, 2013

You gather a handful of seed, God’s seed, and scatter it wide.

You purposely plant; you carefully cultivate.

Some seed falls among rocks,

          Some amidst thorny patches

          Or on the hardened roadside.

But, by faith, you dip into God’s seed basket again and again.

Often the seed lands on good ground—with promise of harvest.

In time, misty shoots and sun-drenched leaves of faith

          Begin their journey upward.

Tightly closed buds burst

          Into fragrant bright blossoms

          And the ripening fruit of the Spirit.

In the seasons of His choosing, the breath of God

          Carries your handfuls far beyond this field,

          Past the ground you see

          To soils beyond your human reach.

Near and far, God gives the increase.

With gratefulness,

          I tend the garden

          You planted in my heart.

*Based on the Parable of the Sower in Matthew 13

Mom with her girls, Barb and Sarah, Easter 2013

          

A Memorable Monday

Monday began at thirty thousand feet above the midnight outline of Africa, heading due north.

At fifteen years old, our daughter, Elisabeth, found herself leaving behind a rich experience with precious children she would always hold close to her heart. She spent four weeks at Dayspring Children's Village near Mageliesburg, South Africa, a school for disadvantaged children. She worked with first graders during most the school day, listening to them read and guiding them through their paces. She taught piano basics to all who showed an interest and helped the older students with their writing skills. She assisted teachers by making charts, accompanying the little ones on a field trip, and playing the piano for music classes. Every day found her busy and involved.

Her world expanded to include first-hand connections with hurting kids: orphans, those with abusive home situations, those who would have little hope without the influence of a school like Dayspring. She took a close-up look at the many faces of Africa. She saw poverty manifested in tin shacks, small crowded homes, and those selling their wares on street corners. She experienced bustling highways and an upscale shopping mall. She enjoyed two game parks, offering opportunities to see zebras, lions, hippos, giraffes, and more. She observed three separate church settings with vastly different worship styles, all directed to the same great God. She felt the support of the entire Dayspring family as they gathered in a circle to thank her for coming and to pray for her - out loud all at once for quite a long time.

 A memorable story!
As Monday's dawn began to break, the plane pointed its nose toward Paris. Here Elisabeth (and one of her former teachers who has made the trip to Dayspring many times) decided to take advantage of an all-day layover. They took a double decker tour bus to see the sights: the Eiffel Tower, the Arc of Triumph, Notre Dame, etc.

In the late afternoon, they boarded the plane once more, this time headed for Philadelphia. Somewhere, as they flew west, night fell behind them and six hours added themselves to this memorable Monday. By 8:15 p.m. EST, we had our very-much-missed daughter with us again, heading north on the PA Turnpike and hearing stories all the way home!

A day with lots of shared memories, gratefulness for God's safe-keeping, and an appreciation for our brothers and sisters in Christ all over the world, especially at a little school among the dry waving grasses of South Africa: Dayspring Children's Village!