Pretend, PlayDoh, Hats, Singing and Sewing

Twenty month old little girls are so very busy and so much fun! 

I had a friend next to me while I ate breakfast this morning. Lydia had some bites of my eggs (because Grammy's are better) and we each had a piece of pumpkin bread. Lydia shared her bread with her baby doll. (All her idea.)

I took a gamble and brought some PlayDoh for Lydia to play with. Once we established, "No Lydia, don't put it in your mouth", she had a blast and sat at the kitchen counter and played with it for more than an hour! I would make balls and she would squish them. Over and over and over and over again.

We played with toys, we sang songs, she wore this awesome hat her great-aunt made, we Skyped with Pops.

I've been working on teaching her the motions to "Away in the Manger". I taught her mommy that when she was the same age. It's part of our family home movie history. This little girl is as sweet as her mommy as we do the motions. I admit to having tears streaming down my face as I watched Lydia learn and showed her mommy how well she did!

Daughter and I got a lot accomplished. Daughter cooked several things for freezer meals, she sewed a fourth Christmas stocking, we worked on a few other sewing projects together.

Working together brough back memories of working on projects with my mom when my kids were little. Good memories. I miss doing those things with my mom. More tears.

Today I am thankful for...

...sweet memories with my granddaughter
...big running hugs from a twenty month old
...memories of my mom
...God's abundant grace

God's Plan All Along

Last Friday was my wonderful husband's birthday. While every year I am so thankful to celebrate his birthday with him, this year I learned something that shocked me and at the same time made me all the more thankful.

When I visited my parents shortly before Christmas, my dad gave me a box that was filled with my childhood mementos that my mom had saved. It had my baby book, (with not a whole lot in it which comes from being the fourth baby in six and a half years), old photographs, concert programs, the newspaper clipping with my photo from when I was four years old, to copies of my family's Christmas letters. As part of my birthday present (which is about two weeks after Christmas) I asked for Hubby's time to go through the box with me. One night I started to read several of the Christmas letters starting with the one from the year I was born. That year my parents had taken some time away alone without all four of us kids.  They picked me up before they gathered my three older siblings. I was in a basket on the front seat of the car between my parents (no car seats) and my dad tried to pass someone on the two-lane highway. There was a slight rise in the road and he didn't see the oncoming car. There was a head-on collision. Dad broke an arm, Mom shattered a knee cap, broke an arm and cut her head and spent three months in the hospital. I rolled on the floor and wasn't hurt at all. I was three months old.

I've known about the car accident my whole life, so what about that shocked me so much? The date of the accident was April 7th. The day before my husband was born! I fully believe that God spared my life that day to be that man's wife 23 years later.

Talk about God having a plan! Pretty cool, huh?

Me (the baby) and my family. My first Christmas. Notice my mom's left leg? Ever since the car accident she has only been able to bend that leg to a right angle. 

My sweet hubby as a baby and his mom. 

Lasts

Years ago I read an article about Lasts. The article pointed out how we don't always know or notice when the last something will occur. The purpose of the article was to encourage its readers to savor the moments.

Sometimes lasts are a welcome relief. The last winter we had to live in Minnesota. The last day I had to live in that small town that was so lonely for me. The last day on a job that was so hard to go to everyday. The last day of college classes because you are finally done studying and can get out into the grown-up world.

Some times the lasts are bittersweet. I don't remember the last time my little daughter reached out to hold my hand. I don't remember the last time my little son wanted to watch me put on my makeup. When did my babies last crawl or call for me in the middle of the night? When was the last day they went running to the door when their daddy got home from work? I kept a calendar the first two years of their sweet little lives and wrote down their firsts. Their first tooth, first bottle, first steps, first words, etc. I don't have a calendar of their lasts. Those lasts sneak up on us and go by unnoticed as time marches on.

Maybe that's a good thing because sometimes those lasts can be super painful and if we knew they were coming it would be unbearable.

Like what I've experienced lately.

My parents are in the process of moving to North Carolina. They have lived in Iowa their whole lives except for a few years in the Air Force when they were first married. But now they want to be closer to my sister's family.

I've come to realize that the last time I was in Iowa, two plus weeks ago, was the last time I will see them in the house they have lived in since I was eleven years old. I'm feeling like it's the last time I will ever be in that house and that is very painful for me. I did some serious growing up through my teenage years and college year summers in that house. I lived there longer than any of my siblings. My parents have thrown a lot of parties in that house celebrating graduations, engagements, weddings, birthdays.

The thing with lasts is they sneak up on you and sometimes you don't realize it and you don't get a chance to process and try to comes to terms with it and before you know it, it's done and gone. I thought I would have a chance to do that, but it seems like things are moving along faster than anyone told me, than I thought they would. How did I know that last Christmas was the last one I would ever celebrate in that house? I didn't get a last chance to go through the rooms and see if there are some treasures that time forgot. I won't say I didn't get to at all, because the last time I was there I found a vinyl record of my high school senior year variety show I had forgotten about. How many more of those types of things are there? I'll never know. I didn't get a chance to go room to room and play the memory tapes of the past, of my high school friends hanging out with me in the kitchen, of my date sneaking a kiss in the garage, of my husband and I talking in the basement the day before our wedding, of my son's second birthday party there, of my daughter learning to use a fork or hiding her peas in her glass of milk, of my nieces and nephews sliding down the stairs, of all the kids sledding in the backyard, of my parents at the front door waving good-bye.

Forty-three years of memories. Done. My heart is grieving.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace. Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

A Really REALLY Big Deal

My last post was about the old cloth tape measure that belonged to my great-aunt and how my mom graciously gave it to me. Well, today's post is about and even BIGGER deal.


Four years ago, when my dad turned 80, my parents asked us kids to write down three things we wanted from their house. I thought hard about two of the items, but one was a cinch for me to come up with. In reality that "one" item was actually multiple items. My mom had acquired several quilts that her ancestors had made. I found them many years ago and asked for them, but Mom wasn't ready to give them up then.

My parents are getting ready to move (more on that in another post on another day) and have been sorting through some things. When we were visiting my parents a couple of weeks ago, I asked my dad if I could have the quilts. He said we'd have to get Mom's consent. I went upstairs to find five quilts in the closet and brought them down for my mom to look over.  Mom's first reaction was to shake her head "no" pretty adamantly. We talked about it occasionally for the next couple of hours. Mom kept shaking her head "no".  I even asked Dad if it mattered if Mom gave her consent. He said it was part of her grieving process of moving and letting things go. Mom did finally say it was okay to take four of the five quilts. The one she kept was one that her mother made.

I pinned them up on my design wall and photographed them to share on my blog at the request of my blogging buddy and fellow quilter, Kathy. 
 
This Nine-Patch red, white and blue quilt was made by my great-grandmother who immigrated to the United States from Sweden when she was a teenager.

Nine Patch, 71x84"

The note my mom wrote and attached to the quilt says that she bought all new fabrics for this quilt and all the stitching was done by hand and that it was probably made in the late 1930s or early 1940s. I remember my mom telling me that it was the last quilt her grandmother made.

This applique quilt was made by my paternal grandmother. I never knew she quilted! It looks to be machine pieced and hand appliqued and quilted. My guess is the flower fabrics are from feed-sacks.

Flower Applique, 69x84"

This quilt was definitely well used and loved. It is the most worn and stained and faded of the quilts.

This wool quilt was too heavy to pin up on my design wall, so I laid it on the deck. The note my mom had with it says my paternal grandmother's mother, my great-grandmother, made it. Then she added at a later time "or her mother". (!)  It is very heavy and pretty stinky (musty). I have in on the screened-in-porch right now airing out. I did get some advice on how to clean it and it sounds like a two person job, so I'll have to wait for Hubby to help me sometime.

Wool Quilt, 80x78"

 It does have a few holes in it. My dad says he remembers sleeping under it.

I saved my favorite for last. I love them all, but this Double Wedding Ring quilt is in pristine condition and I love the old feed-sack fabrics. The note with this one says that my maternal grandfather's mother made it, my great-grandmother, and there is another note that includes my great-aunt's name.

Double Wedding Ring, 84x88"

Thank you, Mom, for entrusting the care of these special quilts to me. I know it is a Really REALLY Big Deal for you to give them to me. I know they are treasures and I plan on caring for them with utmost care.

I have been searching for how to care for these and how to clean them properly. I have emailed an expert in North Carolina and she gave me really good advice on how to clean them. I want them to at least smell good enough to use some and to display.

I wish I could have a conversation with the women, my ancestors, who made these quilts. Why did they make them? Who did they make them for? How long did it take to make them?

A Big Deal

I know the above picture doesn't look like a very big thing, but the story behind it is.

When I visit my parents, my dad will often ask me to mend something for him. Since my mom was disabled due to a serious stroke, she is not able to do those things for him any more and even though I give my dad some grief about it, I am happy help him out. When I was at their house a few months ago, Dad asked me to mend a seam in some dress pants of his. Next to my mom's sewing machine was an old fabric tape measure. I looked closely at it and saw a name was written on the back side of it.

Can you see what it says? It has the name Charlotte Swanson written on it. She was my great aunt, my mom's father's sister. Aunt Charlotte made the best Spritz cookies.

I brought the tape measure back upstairs with me and told my dad that the tape measure was something I would like to have. My mom took the tape measure from me and looked at it and made kind of a disapproving sound (the stroke took away her speech). She then set it on a table next to her. I took that as her telling me that she was not willing to let me take it.

A little while later, Hubby and I said our good-byes and made our way to the front door. Dad pushed Mom in her wheel chair to front door to wave to us as we drove away, like they always do. I turned around to give my mom one more kiss and she was holding out her hand to me with the tape measure in her hand and a sweet smile on her face!

I know to the casual reader this may not seem like a big deal, but if you knew how sentimental my mom is, you would understand.

I will always treasure that strip of fabric with measurements printed on it and my great aunt's name written on it because it was a big deal for my mom to give it to me.

A Week at the Beach

Last week was spent at a beach in North Carolina. I was able to stay the whole week and be with my parents and my siblings (and a few other family members like a niece, nephew, a couple of great-nieces some brothers-in-law and a sister-in-law.)

Other than a cruise we all went on two years ago to celebrate my parents' 60th wedding anniversary, none of us could remember the last time the four of us spent that much time together.

One afternoon someone looked out the window and said. "Look at all those dragonflies!" Shortly after we heard my sister and nephew come hollering and yelling their way up the stairs from the pool. For some reason there was a ten minute invasion of thousands of dragonflies. All the black specs in the picture are dragonflies! Then, just as quickly as they swarmed, they were gone!

Another afternoon I was in my room reading and watching soap operas and I heard the little girls (great-nieces ages 2 and 4) squealing with delight and then I heard a familiar roar. I looked out to see my 84 year old dad in the pool! I remembered that roar from when I was a kid and Dad would come swimming under water and then come up out of the water roaring trying to scare us.  I don't think those little girls knew what to think of their great-grandpa in the pool. Grin.

My dad is awesome.

 

 

Lately...

Why haven't I written? The short of it is that I have been out of town for close to forever. I find it hard to write when I am traveling.

When we moved into our house we realized the wood floors were in pretty bad condition so we scheduled someone to come in to refinish them. When I learned we couldn't be in the house for six days, I started trying to figure out what to do with myself. Sitting in a hotel room all week didn't sound like the best idea to me. So I booked some plane tickets and took off to the Midwest. I spent a couple of days with my son and daughter-in-law. The first morning I was there I got a phone call from my son asking me if I could come pick him up because he had been in a car accident.

His car was totaled. The other driver ran a red light. When we examined the damaged car we realized that if my son would have been just ONE second faster, he would have been hurt very badly. I am so thankful that God spared him from that. I am grateful that I was in town and able to take my son and keep my eye on him the rest of the day. I am grateful that his wife is a doctor and could ask him all the questions to make sure he was okay.

Meanwhile back in South Carolina... a before picture of the floors:

 If you look in the upper left corner,you can see the not worn part under the cabinet. The finish is pretty much worn off.

Here is an after picture:

So much better!

Back to the Midwest....

My next stop was in Iowa at my daughter and son-in-law's farm. Because this:

This sweet, sweet granddaughter is wearing her mommy's sweater. A college friend knitted this sweater for Megan when she was born. I loved it so much and saved it all these years. Lydia looked so sweet in it!

I had a wonderful long weekend with my daughter and her family. Us three girls spent a day with my parents. I so enjoy watching my parents love on their seventh great-grandchild. My mom has the sweetest smile when she sees Lydia.

My daughter started back to work (only two days a week) while I was there. She asked me if I would be able to babysit Lydia that Monday. I couldn't respond YES quickly enough! Lydia and I had a great day together. She did pretty well with the bottle and napped for over 2 hours in the morning. I loved taking care of her and talking to her and getting sweet smiles. I didn't even mind the spit-up on my shoulder. ha.  But the best part was the snuggling.

All that was only the first week I was gone. The second week hubby had meetings in St. Paul, MN, so I drove up there to spend some time with him. Well, at least the evenings with him.We did manage one dinner with friends the one night he was free for dinner.  I spent my time shopping for clothes since Minnesota doesn't have sales tax on clothing. I also spent a wonderful long afternoon with a sweet friend I met when we lived in Singapore. Our husbands work for the same company.

Mother's Day weekend found us back in Iowa. Hubby hadn't seen Lydia since she was four days old. He was more than a little excited to see her and spent a lot of time holding her and talking to her.

We were able to spend Mother's Day with my mom and dad and sisters and brothers-in-law.

Four Generations

Mom and her girls

A Wednesday Hodgepodge

1. Besides left over Easter goodies, what's something currently kept in a basket at your house?
We have a random basket on a coffee table that holds all sorts of remotes that are awaiting their assignment. We just have to find the TVs, stereos, blue-ray players they go to and decide where to put those things. Sigh. Moving. Oh, there are also take-out menus and a power cord to something and coasters and instructions for a blue-ray player and a dust rag and printed out HOA rules and recycling guidelines in the same basket. Because that makes total sense. (It's not even a terribly large basket.)

2. 'The greater danger for most of us is not that our aim is too high and we miss it, but that it is too low and we reach it.' ~Michelangelo Buonarroti )
So which one are you...the one who aims too high, or the one who aims too low? Have you ever seen The Sistine Chapel? Did you know Michelangelo's surname prior to answering this question?
I don't really like to admit it, but I think my "aim" is often too low.
I have never seen The Sistine Chapel and I always thought Michelangelo was a one named dude. Learn something new every day, huh?

3. April 7th is National Beer Day. Hmmm...wonder how that's celebrated? Do you like beer? Have a favorite? If you're not a beer drinker do you have any recipes you enjoy cooking that call for beer?
I think beer tastes (and smells) like gross liquid bread.
My favorite recipe that uses beer is Pioneer Woman's Beef Stew with Beer and Paprika. Oh man, that stuff is so yummy!

4. When did you last travel somewhere new? Tell us where? How'd it go?
We made a quick trip to Charlotte, NC in February.
We haven't done much exploring of our new state, yet. Moving projects will keep one from doing things like that, I guess.
We are planning on going to Charleston, SC in a couple of weeks. I've always wanted to visit there and I'm pretty excited that we live  only three hours from there!
 
5. The value of a professional athlete is greatly overrated.
They get paid an outrageous amount of money for doing something that does not add a lot of value to society.

6. What's a pet peeve of yours when it comes to restaurant dining?
Wait staff that isn't trained and/or isn't attentive. We ate out recently at a fairly nice restaurant where our waiter was a very quiet talker. So quiet, in fact, that when he came to the table to take our orders, he just stood there and did not say a thing! I initially wanted to wait to speak until he said something, but then I just wanted him to go away as quickly as possible. He gave me the heebie jeebies!

7. It's Poetry Month...share a favorite poem, either the title, a few lines you find meaningful, or the whole kit and caboodle.
Can't say I have a favorite poem. Poetry has never interested me much. (Except when Hubby writes me one of his famous "Roses are red, violets are blue" poems. They are very original!)

8. Insert your own random thought here.
My daughter texted me this picture a couple of weeks ago. This is my mom and my granddaughter. They share the same middle name of Mae.

 My daughter called me to tell me the story of this visit. She lives about 40 minutes west of where my parents live. One Tuesday about two weeks ago, my daughter woke up from a nap and had a voice mail from my dad. My parents had left the house that morning to go to a doctor's appointment for my mom, but it was canceled at the last minute. Mom indicated (she has no speech due to a stroke about 18 months ago) that she didn't want to go back home. My dad has an amazing ability to ask Mom enough questions to figure out what she is wanting. He says that after 62 years of marriage he ought to be able to read her facial expressions and just plain understand her. Dad asked Mom if she wanted to go out for lunch. She nodded her head yes, then no. Meaning, Dad discerned, that she was fine with eating lunch out, but she wanted to do something else. While they were eating lunch, Mom kept pointing west. So Dad asked and asked trying to figure out what was she was pointing towards. He finally asked, "Do you want to go meet Lydia Mae?" to which he received a resounding "Uh Huh" and a strong nod of the head yes!

I got tears in my eyes (and do now as I write this out) when I first heard this story. I shake my head in amazement at what my mom has accomplished since her stroke despite the things she cannot do. I also am so moved by my dad's care for my mom.

A Summary. The First of Several.

Two weeks ago I flew back to the Midwest to see family and to assist in packing up our house in Minnesota.

After a visit to my full-term pregnant daughter, I spent a few days with my parents. It had been a long time since I had seen them (Christmas). I met them at their Bible study group that they have been a part of for more than 30 years. I know several of their friends and my dad led the discussion. A good study on John 4 and a fun group of elderly people still learning about God's word. That is so encouraging to me to see people in their 80s still seeking to learn about God and His word. I have heard an 80-something year old say that he didn't think he had anything left to learn about Christianity (I even heard him say this when he was still in his 60s). That made me so sad.

The next morning I accompanied my parents to my mom's speech therapy at the University of Northern Iowa. The stroke that hit my mom in September of 2013 took away her speech. While she doesn't talk, she is comprehending two-step instructions (pick up the cup and pretend to drink), matching words to pictures and working on playing UNO. She has one-on-one time and some group time. The group time is for social interaction and is with people with the same type of language disorder caused by damage to the brain (most commonly the result of a stroke). Anyway, I found the whole thing very interesting (and hard) and am so thankful for people who study speech-language pathology.

Another morning I got to see my mom working hard in physical therapy. They have a very good and patient man come to the house three times a week to help my mom with movement. The stroke also took away the use of the right side of her body. She cannot use her right arm or leg. Amongst other exercises, physical therapist helps Mom walk with the use of two different types of walkers. He helps move her right leg. I watched my mom walk across the kitchen floor several times. I loved the look of determination and concentration on her face.

After a few days with my parents, I took off for Minnesota to meet my husband there.

(Can I take a break here to confess how the rental car I had drove me nuts with trying to figure out how to operate it? Oh, I could start it and drive it, but the climate control, radio and even the gas door release got the best of me. I spent a good five minutes at the gas station trying to figure out how to open the gas release thingy. I finally consulted the manual. I just needed to press on the round door and it popped open. Good Grief. Sometimes I just laugh at myself.)

Okay. Back to Minnesota. 

We finally were able to pack up the things in our house in Minnesota. Not only did that house sell, we found one here in South Carolina.

(I must clarify that by "we finally were able to pack up the things in our house" I mean we supervised a moving company packing up the house. And by "we supervised" I mean my husband. Of course. He's the best.)

It took a team of people three days to box everything up and to load it in a moving van. The moving van will unload everything here on Monday.

Whew! I'm tired just thinking of all of those boxes that need to be unpacked. I am so thankful for a husband who has the Gift of Organization. He also has the Gift of Spacial Reasoning and can visualize how our furniture will fit in a house. We spent a good part of today walking around our house trying to figure out where the bigger pieces of furniture will go so we can have the movers do the heavy work.

Friends

Since September 6, 2013 I have been a witness to some remarkable friendships. That day is the day my mother had a severe stroke. That day is the day I began to watch my parents' friends step up and demonstrate what friends really are.

When that terrible stroke hit my mother, my dad and Mom's friend, Lois, were with her. As they were following the ambulance to the hospital, Lois was on her phone calling my dad's friend, Pat. Within a few minutes Pat was at the hospital by my dad's side and stayed until my sister arrived. The next day Pat brought sub sandwiches for all of us who were in the ICU waiting room. I was with my dad for the first week Mom was in the hospital. Every single day Pat came by and Lois came by. There were also visits from several friends they have been in a Bible study with for years. When Mom was finally able to move home five months later, those friends continued to visit and bring meals to their house. Pat came every Sunday afternoon to visit. He would great my mother with, "Hello, Beautiful", which always made her smile.

We got news today that Pat is now on hospice care for cancer that has metastasized.  My heart just aches for my dad. I ache for the hole that will be left when Pat is gone. Pat has been an encouragement for Dad. Pat has been a support for him. Pat has made my dad laugh. Pat has been a help to Dad. (Pat built a ramp in their garage for my mom's wheelchair.) Every Sunday, Pat is right there as my dad pulls up to the building and gets the wheelchair out of the back of the van for Dad, the footrests that are in the back seat and then will park the van for Dad.

Today I read this post by Sophie Hudson on Ann Voskamp's blog about what her mama taught her about friendships. At the end of her article, Sophie said:

Because in sincere, God-honoring friendships, you don’t compete - you serve.
You don’t push people down; you lift them up.
You encourage.
You esteem.
You honor.

I have watched Pat do all of these. My dad is blessed to have had a friendship like this. I have been blessed to witness this friendship.

I have thanked God many times for Pat and Lois and their loyal friendships with my parents. Many times I have asked God to bless them. Pat is ready to see Jesus and to see his wife (who passed away about 3 years ago).

I am praying for my dad as he grieves the loss of his friend.