She Left One Year Ago Today - I Still Miss Her

She was known as Grandma Gloria to the neighborhood children, as Mom to her own children, as Gloria to her friends, but I knew her as Aunt Gloria - a safe place, an adult I could count on. I remember her as kind and caring and her home as a welcoming, familiar place. Second in familiarity only to my own home and the homes of my siblings. As I pause on this day, the first anniversary of her passing, to remember her, many memories come to mind, many pictures of her stored in my mental scrapbook. A few stand out as representative of the woman I knew her to be.

One day when I was in Kindergarten, I got off the bus, as usual, but something not usual at all faced me. I couldn't find any of my family at home. Being the youngest of 6 children living on a dairy farm, our house was rarely empty, so it was a surprise to come home and find it so. The first person to come to mind, the first safe place to go besides my own home, was Aunt Gloria's. Her phone number and my own were only one digit different, so I memorized her number almost as soon as I knew my own. I used the green, rotary wall phone in our kitchen and called her. I explained my predicament and she told me to come right over. She would watch me from her kitchen window as I crossed the road and walked to her house, making sure I arrived safely. I did arrive safely and there I stayed until my parents came home.

She was also my Primary Class Sunday School teacher. I sat at the wooden table in a metal folding chair while she taught us stories from the Bible and lessons about God and life. She had a habit while she was teaching of twisting the pieces of her pen back and forth - tip out, tip in, tip out, tip in. With each turn you could hear a little click. This was part of Sunday School in her class. To this day, when I twist a pen open or closed, I think of her. Funny the little things that stick in our memories and bring a person back to us as clearly as if they are still right there with us in the room.

Often for school we had fundraisers that required us to go door to door selling one thing or another.  In middle school and high school, it was chocolate bars. I hated this ritual of going door to door selling things. Somehow to me it felt like begging and I hated the rejection of people saying, "No." But Aunt Gloria never said no to whatever I was forced to sell, she was always a sure sale and not only to me, but to other kids in the neighborhood. As a kid, I appreciated that sure sale, that generosity, that kindness that made doing something I hated a little less painful.

Another time as a young adult, I had two friends over for homemade pizza. We had the pizza assembled and ready to pop in the oven when we discovered that the element had gone bad and the oven that was supposed to have been preheating was stone cold. Once again I dialed that ever familiar number. Sure, we could use her oven. What temperature did we need to have it set at? Off we traipsed across the road, carrying our pizzas, across the lawn, up her front steps, through the living room, and into the kitchen to bake our lunch - catastrophe averted.

She was just that kind of person - warm, welcoming, generous, and hard-working. Although she had a house to run, food to preserve, lawn to mow, a farm to help her husband run, 5 children to raise, and church functions to attend, her home was clean and tidy any time I visited and despite her many activities she always had time for people.

A couple of months before she passed away, I went to her home to borrow some photos for my mother's memorial service. We had a lovely time reminiscing about the past, hearing stories of her earlier days. When it came time for me to leave, she told me to come again and not to wait so long next time. Sadly, I wouldn't have many more opportunities to visit her and the next time I came it was to help her daughter care for her as she faced her final days.

She was a lovely, gracious lady - a safe and welcoming place for many youngsters and friends alike.  She is loved and missed.

The Rascals Together Again

Back of the Picture says "The Rascals" 

On October 31st, my father's last living sibling joined her brothers in heaven. I felt deeply saddened by her passing.

While she lived, I was pleased to know that I would see her at family events and looked forward to seeing her. I enjoyed catching up with her and I enjoyed the stories of her younger years that she would share. I found her presence comforting. She was the last who could share stories with us of her brothers and what it was like growing up. She had answers to questions we had not asked of our dad while he was still alive - often because we had not thought of them. It was a comfort to know that she was only a phone call or short drive away.

I remember her from my childhood as a strict but loving mother and a generous caregiver. She worked as a nurse in pediatrics for the majority of her adult life. On her weekends off, she came to my grandfather's house (kitty-corner to our home) to clean, cook and tend his garden for him. My grandmother died when I was only two, and, from the time of her passing until he died, my aunt came faithfully every other weekend to care for him.

I remember staying at her house to play with my cousins and going there for Christmas dinners. Forever in my mind it will be the little pink house, even though I believe they changed the color many years ago. I have happy memories of those times.

I remember that she had asthma and an allergy to cats that would quickly bring on an attack. I remember she had strong feelings about what was safe and unsafe for the children she saw come through her unit at the hospital.

I appreciated her, loved and admired her when I was a child, however, it was as an adult that I felt a much stronger connection to her. My parents lost their house to fire in 2009. They lost nearly everything they owned, including several heirlooms. She, in the tradition of her mother and herself, made a quilt for my parents. They put it on their bed and it was a beautiful daily reminder of her love and generosity to them.

My father passed in 2011. During his final illness my connection to her grew much stronger. She came to see my dad several times during those last two weeks - both at the hospital and at our home. She talked with him and made sure to tell him what was most important for her to say and for him to hear before he passed. She was kind and supportive to us, his grieving children. She gave me an example of how to say good-bye to a loved one.

At her funeral, I heard many stories of how she had touched many people in similar ways to those I had experienced. People told of her generosity, her giftedness in sewing and knitting things for others, her kindness and the cards or visits they had received from her. They spoke of her sense of humor, her strength of character, her love for God. Many people will miss her, I among them.

Yet, we grieve with hope. I know that she is together with the Lord she loved and also with her many family members who had gone before her. She is part of a grand reunion and waiting to celebrate with us when we join her there.

End of the Year Update - Guest Blogger

From guest blogger Dakota Colwell filling in for Dar:

Meowry Christmas!!! Greetings from our family to yours!!

Mama has again given me the task of writing our Christmas letter. (She says it’s important for me to help out when I can. She says I’m a very good companion and mouse catcher, [purr, purr] and this is my other once-a-year job.)

Let’s paws for a bit to reflect on the meaning of the season. Recently, Mama was in a meeting where she was asked what Jesus’ birth means to her, not only at Christmas, but all year ‘round.  She answered with (purr, purr) a story about me that went like this:

Seven years ago, I got an itty, bitty kitty. At Christmas time I put him in his carrier to travel to my

parents’ home with me. He didn’t like it and cried for the whole two hours. I spoke soothingly to

him and told him that although he didn’t like it, it was the safest place for him. I told him that if

he were out he would get under my feet and distract me and kill us both. But he couldn’t

understand. I thought of God and how many times He tried to communicate to me and I couldn’t

understand, how He tried to console me and show me that the difficult situation was really for

my best. I couldn’t become a kitty and speak in Cat, but God did become a man, a human being

so that He could communicate to me in a way I could understand. I’m so thankful for that.

Just for the record (hiss, growl) I still don’t like traveling in the carrier!!!

Let me give you a little recap of our year:

·         In March Grammie fell and half of her face was pretty colors for a long time. Uncle Don took her to the ER and they kept her for observation. They wouldn’t let her go home unless her family could guarantee someone would be with her 24/7. Mama was very thankful that Aunt Karen was willing and able to take on this job.

·         Aunt Karen’s girls planned a surprise party for her in April. Mama helped with the surprise by going with her to see a movie so the girls could decorate and set up. Aunt Karen was very surprised and deeply touched by the thoughtful gifts her daughters gave her.

·         In May Aunt Cindy planned a surprise party for Grammie’s 88^th birthday. Almost all of her children, many of her grandchildren, and a few of her great-grandchildren were able to celebrate with her.

·         In June it was Mama’s birthday and Aunt Karen put together a special gathering and Aunt Carol made Mama’s favorite red cake to celebrate the momentous occasion. Mama is calling it her Year of Jubilee and made a list of 50 things she would like to accomplish before her next birthday.

·         At the end of July Mama took a little weekend excursion to Connecticut to spend time with her friend Anne. They went to the ocean, visited a butterfly garden, stopped at Yankee Candle headquarters, and had lunch with some of Anne’s friends. Mama crossed several things off her Jubilee List as a result of this trip.

·         Shortly after her return, she heard sad news that Uncle Don had bone cancer. Following surgery and radiation treatments he has received a cancer free report from his doctors. They will continue to monitor him regularly. Mama is thankful for his renewed health and God’s answer to many prayers on his behalf.

·         On September 16^th Mama left for work and had a few “firsts” take place (although these were NOT on her Jubilee List - hiss). She rode in an ambulance for the first time and was a patient in the ER for the first time. On her way to work, a pick-up pulling a trailer pulled across the road in front of her. Mama was okay, just a few bumps and bruises, but her car was smushed. Thankfully God provided through the insurance company and her church and now Mama has a cute little white Mazda (purr, purr).

Mama continues to visit Grammie every other weekend and on breaks, work at the church, blog, and edit papers for doctoral candidates. This year she also completed training to become a life coach specializing in spiritual development as well as grief. She hopes to build her coaching practice in the coming year.

We hope that you have a wonderful Christmas and a Happy, Healthy and Blessed 2015!!

Meowry Christmas,

Dakota for Mama Dar J

Lessons My Father Taught Me About Living . . . and Dying

I learned many lessons from my dad by the way he lived his life.

I learned that hard work is a good thing. My dad didn't work in a faraway office. When I was a child, my father owned a dairy farm - a business where the work never seems to end. He took me on the tractor to the fields and let me "drive" it even as a young girl. When he was building on an addition to the barn, he hung a swing from the rafters for me so that I could play while he worked. When I was older and the farm had been sold and he ran a sawmill, I went with him into the woods while he cut down trees. As a thirty-something adult, I finally came face to face with the realization that this was not the way most kids grew up. For many Dad left in the morning and came home again in the evening and in between they didn't see him. I learned about work by working side-by-side with my dad doing things that little girl hands could do. I don't ever remember him asking me to do something that was beyond my ability and I remember him protecting me from the things that could harm me in the hazardous work he did. He seemed to know what I could and couldn't do and asked me to do what I could, but didn't ask more.

I learned not to complain in the face of pain and difficulty, but to keep going, pace yourself, and do the best you can. When I was an infant, just 6 months old, my father had his second back surgery. As long as I can remember, he lived with chronic pain and significant health issues, yet he rarely complained. Sometimes in his sleep you could tell how bad the pain was because in those unguarded moments he would moan, but in his waking hours he rarely complained. And, despite the pain he built two successful businesses - the family farm and then a rough cut lumber business. His lumber business grew mostly by word of mouth. Customers would come back again and again because of the quality of the product they received. He did his best. And he paced himself, resting when needed, taking family vacations, and weekend getaways with my mom. Then he would return to work hard and do his best.

He was a man of few words, yet when he spoke his words carried weight and had impact. When he said he would do something, you could count on it.

I also learned about love. He was a quiet man and words of love didn't come easily to him. Yet his love for his wife and family was deep. He loved to have his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren in his home. He always seemed to know that people were more important than things and that family were most important of all people. As long as he was able, each year he would drive the many hours to visit my sisters who lived far away to spend time with his daughters and their families. He made many gifts in his wood-shop for his children and grandchildren. He helped remodel houses, build potato bins, play games, hike, pick berries, and visit historical sites for and with his family. All of these expressions of his love.

He also taught me lessons in his dying. I had the privilege of helping to care for him the last 10 days of his life. The hospice workers warned us that it is normal for people to do things that we're not accustomed to them doing - like swearing a blue streak. My father, although in incredible pain those last days, didn't cry out, didn't get cranky and didn't swear. I don't think I ever heard him utter a swear word during my lifetime and that habit, I believe, was so deeply ingrained that even in death those words were not a part of who he was.

I knew that he loved Christ and had served Him faithfully for many years. It was his custom to spend time reading his Bible each day. As he lay in the hospital bed, the toxins building up in his system, I read to him from his Bible. One day I asked him if there was anything special that he would like me to read. His response was, "No, it's all good."

He died on a Sunday - Mother's Day - and the night before he uttered the last words I would ever hear him say on this earth. He had been basically in a coma for the few days before that, talking little, sleeping much. On that Saturday night, he spoke in a clear strong voice and said, "Thank you, Jesus!" I knew that he could see and was experiencing something very real and profound in the spiritual realm. In that moment, I felt closer to God than I had in a long time.

I am thankful for the lessons my father taught me in life and in death. He lived well and he died with dignity and honor.

Five Minute Friday - Visit

On Fridays a lot of people join Lisa Jo Baker for Five Minute Friday, a time to write without editing, without pressure to get it all right, a time to just write for 5 minutes. This week's word (although I'm a day late to this party) is "Visit."

Read . . . set . . . write . . .

This morning the phone rang and I saw a friendly name on the ID screen . . . a family member, one of my sisters. I picked up the call and we had a visit, not face to face, but a time to catch up, to hear a dear, familiar voice. Visiting with one sister, led to a visit with another sister and then my mom. All by phone.

freedigitalphotos.net

These days it seems many, too many perhaps, of my visits are by phone. We live far apart and getting together amidst busy schedules becomes increasingly difficult with both family and friends. Yet, I am thankful for this invention of the telephone, as well as, I might add, e-mail and Facebook. Although there is no substitute for a face to face visit, these little mini visits by phone or via the internet, help us stay connected and involved in one another's lives . . . a very valuable thing indeed.

Stop!

Handmade Gifts - Week Four

I hope that everyone had a lovely Christmas!! I had a quiet time with loved ones and enjoyed it very much.

Recently someone asked if I make handmade gifts for others. The answer is yes! In fact, this is the first year in many years that I didn't make any handmade gifts for Christmas . . . although I baked more cookies than I know what to do with! :)

Today I thought I would share with you a few of the gifts I have made with love and care over the years . . .

A plastic bag holder for my teddy bear collector mom.

A "Busy Book" for a young nephew.

A lap quilt and matching pillows as a wedding gift for a dear friend and her new groom.

A matching towel and dishcloth set.

A "Puppy Book" (much like a baby book only for a dog) for a 9 year old who had just received his much hoped and prayed for puppy.

A blanket to welcome a precious new life into our family!

How about you? Do you like to craft? 

What gifts have you made for others?

Handmade Gifts - Week Two

I have been blessed to be part of a creative and talented family who throughout my lifetime has blessed me with many meaningful hand crafted gifts.

A few years ago, one of my sisters made me a decorative pillow. I love the colors she chose and the labor of love that went into designing and crafting it.

When I was a young child, my oldest sister made me two heirloom gifts. One year she made a wardrobe for my Barbie. She made a wedding dress, an evening gown, a matching dress and cape, she even knitted tiny sweaters, skirts, and stockings for her. There were pants, skirts, blouses, and dresses in this finely crafted wardrobe. I loved to dress my Barbie in these clothes and they were an inspiration to me to make other clothes for my doll myself.

A few years later my parents bought me my last baby doll. Again my oldest sister went to her sewing machine, pulled out her crochet hook and made a wardrobe for my doll. There were dresses, pajamas, play suits, and a crocheted ripple baby blanket for me to dress Abigail for any imaginable occasion. All beautifully handcrafted.

When my parents house burned a few years ago, both of these wardrobes were in storage at their house. I was very relieved to find them undamaged in their tote among the debris.

My mother too handcrafted many things for me over the years. She made many of my clothes and I remember looking forward to a new dress at Easter and Christmas, to new clothes each year for school, and the delight of choosing patterns and fabrics for those clothes. Just a few years ago, she finished a project that she had been working on for some time - a Hobby Holly Applique patchwork quilt.

Perhaps another day I will share about the ceramic and woodworking projects my family has blessed me with. So very thankful for these gifts of time, love, and creativity!!!

Do you have special gifts crafted for you by parents or siblings? 

What special ideas have they come up with to bless you?

Handmade Gifts - Week One

I love handmade gifts, especially ones that have a special significance. During this month when so much of our focus is on gifts, each Wednesday I want to share with you some meaningful handmade gifts that have been given to me over the years.

In my living room, I have three beautiful cross-stitch wall hangings made for me by a dear friend. All of them are special and meaningful, yet of the three this is my favorite - a sampler of "A Virtuous Woman" from Proverbs 31. Not only was this a labor of love - there is so much detail in this sampler - but it came with wonderful words of encouragement.

My friend has a rare understanding of and love for her single friends. When she gave me this treasure, she explained that she wanted me to know that she saw me as a Proverbs 31 woman. In her eyes having a husband was not necessary to be a virtuous women, a woman who honors the Lord. Her words of encouragement meant a great deal to me and every time I see this work of art, I am reminded of her love and encouragement.

Another dear friend created a lovely friendship wall hanging. Using a greeting card and my favorite colors, she chose a lovely picture with a saying about friends. Then she framed it with a pink mat (pink is my favorite color), a wooden frame, added embellishments in the corners and a beautiful reminder of our friendship was created.

This picture hangs over my bed where I am regularly reminded of this dear friend and the way she has walked through life with me, even when she is many miles away

On March 2, 2009 I received news of the unthinkable. My parents house was on fire. The house my father and brother had built. The house my mother had lovingly decorated. The house that had been my home more than any other was on fire.

By the time the firemen put the fire out, there was little left to salvage. The insurance company declared it a total loss. This was a grave loss to my parents in their mid-eighties and to me as well.

A couple of years ago, one of my nieces painted a picture of that house for me. It is in my living room and the first picture I see when I enter the room. Seeing it there comforts me time and time again.

As I look around my home, I am reminded of dear friends and family members who have expended their time and energy to share their love for me with me. I cherish these handmade works of art and the people who made them for me.

Do you have a homemade gift that has a special meaning to you? 

I invite you to share your story about it.

I am Grateful for . . . My Nieces and Nephews

I have enjoyed being called "Aunt Dar" since I was eight years old. Being an aunt has been was of the greatest joys of my life.

My eighteen nieces and nephews came in various shapes and sizes and each one has their own distinct personality, gifts and abilities. Even though there are two sets of identical twins among them, there are none that are exactly alike. Among them are home inspectors, medical records experts, moms, dads, photographers, writers, artists, truck drivers, exterminators, pharmacy techs, architects, farmers, mechanics, students, and police officers.

When they were young I enjoyed swimming with them; planning treasure hunts and scavenger hunts for them; going on hikes, taking pictures, watching movies, playing games with them. I enjoyed their laughter and was saddened by their tears.

Now that they are older, I enjoy catching up with them when we see each other. I am delighted to get to know their children and to see these new little ones growing up. (Some are grown. My oldest great-nephew graduated from Marine boot camp recently. So proud of him!)

Earlier this year one of my sisters visited with three of her daughters. It was a special occasion. Her youngest daughter was pregnant with her first child, my sister's first grandchild. We were having a shower. What a pleasure to be in the same room with my sisters, their daughters and granddaughters as we celebrated the soon coming of this little one.

At one point as we were together in the days before the shower, I walked into the living room and all three sisters were curled up in a corner of a couch writing in their journals. I journal. Their mother journals. My grandmother, their great-grandmother, kept a diary until a stroke took away her ability to write. My heart was warmed and delighted to see this legacy passed on from one generation to another.

I am grateful for each and every niece and nephew that God has given me and for the new ones that are their children.

What about your family has brought you joy and pleasure?

Dear Nieces and Nephews, 

Sorry I was unable to include a picture of each of you. 

I ran out of room and pictures that seemed "right" for this post. 

Love you all!

Aunt Dar

Five Minute Friday: She

She carried me in her womb. She waited while the church bells rang and other mothers gave birth. She waited for me to arrive. She cradled me in her arms and cared for my needs.

She taught me to talk, to walk, to sing, to cook, to sew, to love, to learn, to follow Christ above all else.

She became my best friend. She went on shopping trips, vacations, doctor's visits, trips to college, and to church with me.

She grew older . . . and older. Now she is facing the winter of her life and it is confusing and lonely at times for her. She calls me when she is afraid or lonely or confused. She tires easily so trips to town are shorter and she lets me do her shopping, take her to the doctor, arrange her pills in their green, purple, and yellow cases.

She gives me the privilege of loving her as she has loved me my whole life long.

My Christmas Memory Tree

My Christmas tree is twinkling in my living room and I love to look at it. A Christmas tree is a memory tree for me. I remember getting up early when I was a young child to plug in my parent's tree and lay on the floor watching the lights blink on and off and the the bubbles in the old bubble lights float to the top. But, what evokes the most memories are the special ornaments on it.

The fan made from a leftover wallpaper border that my parents loving hung in my room. That room and the wallpaper are gone, lost in a house fire, but that little fan reminds me of the room where I grew from a child to a woman.

A lovely rose, lace, and ribbon concoction from a college friend's wedding decorations. Every time I hang it on my tree, I remember this lovely lady.

A small cinnamon hand made by a tiny little girl and given to me for Christmas many years ago.

A tiny handcrafted shadow box, made for me by my mother, holding her favorite collectible - a teddy bear.

A small pewter ornament depicting the nativity - the most important reminder of what Christmas is all about.

A lovely heart, ribbon, lace, and pinecone piece handmade by one of my nieces, many years ago.







As I decorated my tree and now as I walk by it each day, I am reminded of so many loved ones who have given me ornaments over the years - family members, students, friends. I am also reminded of the true meaning of Christmas, of God born in human flesh in a humble manger over two centuries ago. My tree reminds me of love - both human and divine.