Category: family

Marietta

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“But Ruth replied, “Don’t ask me to leave you and turn back. Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you live, I will live. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. 17 Wherever you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord punish me severely if I allow anything but death to separate us!” Ruth 1:16-17 (NLT)

Today a friend on facebook posted something about mother-in-laws. She went on to say that she loved her mother in law and considered her a friend.

This prompted me to think of my mother-in-law. Dale and I dated for three years, and were engaged for eleven more months before getting married. So, we have been together a long time.

At first, his mother was not too fond of me. We always say that was because I was a ‘city’ girl and Dale was a country boy she had her doubts. I know that really made no difference to his mom, but we tried to figure out why I was not liked right away.

Time did improve our relationship and by time that engagement ring was slipped onto my finger his Mom and I were friends. We were young when we got engaged. Young when we married. Yet, this woman accepted me and loved me.

Since she had no daughter and I had no mother, I invited her to be with me on many of the plans for our wedding. She actually picked out my wedding gown, which makes it even more special to me.

Through the years we laughed often. Got in trouble with our husbands a lot. Got lost together as neither of us has/had a keen sense of direction.

My memories of her are rich. I miss her mirthful laughter, it was almost musical. Her tenderness toward the Lord spoke volumes to me. She could not pray or talk about God without tears streaming down her cheeks.

I have often said I had three mothers growing up. My own Mother who brought me into the world and taught me the foundations of life. My older sister who guided me through my teen years (I personally think she had the hardest shift) and my mother in law who taught me how to be a wife and mother. My life is full and complete from these three women.

The verse above is how I felt about my mother in law. She was my own personal Naomi. Most women are blessed to have one mother who has nurtured and guided them, I had three.

The day after Dale and I married, we stopped to pick up our rental truck filled with my belongings and our wedding gifts. As we walked into her kitchen, she asked me to go to the basement with her. She had canned and made jam for us the previous fall and needed help carrying things upstairs. When we were alone in the basement, I hesitantly asked what I should call her as, up until that time she was Mrs.Thomas. Since we were both now Mrs. Thomas, I knew I could not continue to call her that. She looked at me, and said, “you can call me Marietta, or Etta, or (and she paused) you could call me Mom.” It had been almost 9 years since I had called anyone that name. I looked at her and said, “Okay, Mom.”

As we hugged good-bye to leave for our new life in Virginia, she squeezed me extra hard and that mother-daughter bond was formed.

It has been over thirty years since she passed, but today thoughts of her have flooded my mind. My life has been enriched by the woman who gave me her son.

Veteran’s Day

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“Praise the Lord, who is my rock. He trains my hands for war and gives my fingers skill for battle.” Psalm 144:1 (NLT)

When I was in high school I would participate in selling poppies on Veteran’s Day. They weren’t real poppies, but little red flowers that were poppies.

I would stand in front of a store downtown, with poppies in one hand and a can in the other. People passing by would stop, give a donation and take a poppy. Older men would stop, and devoutly take a flower and lovingly put the flower in their lapel.

At the time, I thought it was a weird thing to do, but as I was in a community serving group, we would do this for the local VFW. Some years it was pleasant, and some years the bitter November air would rush down Seneca Street chilling you to the bone.

I knew my Dad and my uncles were all veterans. They all served in the war. They each had stories, that were talked about briefly to each other. There were also hushed tones when they remembered their brother who passed from war wounds.

They were referred to as the greatest generation. To me, as one in high school, I did not realize or understand the depth of what they experienced or endured.

I neglected to ask questions as I didn’t think it was important. I have my Dad’s papers from his time in the service. An uncle who was in the Navy gave me some memorabilia from his time in Subic Bay. As a Navy wife at the time, he felt I would enjoy them. I do.

Veterans write a check with their lives at some point. They serve, they give and they sacrifice. I was broken in easily when I married my sailor. We were together, with no deployments for the first few years of our marriage. We explored the places we went.

We explored Japan, we had our time together to see places my uncles fought against. We lived in occupation era housing along with the bugs and rats and brick bathtubs. We relished each day we were together. I began to understand the military.

It wasn’t until the early 80’s that I began to truly realize what sacrifice and deployment meant.

This photo taken the day Dale returned after eight and a half months, sealed forever what sacrifice is. Not just for the veteran, but, for the families. His expression at seeing his daughter after such a long time brings tears to my eyes still. I was standing out of view with our youngest in my arms. It was his first meeting his baby girl who was five months old.

In case I might have forgotten the meaning of what a veteran is, our daughter, pictured above became a Navy wife. She endured several deployments with a baby, like her Mom. He is now a Veteran. Having served honorably and sacrificed much, he is celebrating his second Veteran’s Day.

We owe a debt to these brave men and women. They have accomplished things that we will never hear about. They will talk to brothers in arms with the same hushed tones that my uncles did.

Today and for the next couple of days I will remember my Dad, my uncles, knowing what they accomplished on the fields in World War II. I will once more look at Dale and see that young man who swept me off on a life of adventure, and I will pray for my son in law as he continues to adjust to civilian life.

Warriors sign a blank check. The world and powers write what is owed. Our Savior understands what these men and women accomplished, as He too, came down to earth to pay the ultimate price that we may be saved. Today, look around you and truly see what is surrounding you. Freedom comes at a very high price.

Sisters

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I just looked up quotes on sisters. I thought that would be a nice way to start off this post. Unfortunately they were all saccharine sweet and I could see both of my sisters roll their eyes, followed by a , “yeh, right.” I could see that because that is what I just did.

I love my sisters. They center me and keep me grounded. After all, when you grow up with siblings your life is pretty much bare before them. It’s all fair play.

I can remember my older sister giving us encouraging talks while walking to school after our Mom died. She kept us going, she kept up our spirits. She was our cheerleader.

I also remember going into her closet after she left for high school and we still had time before my younger sister and I had to leave for our school. Her make up was free game, along with any sweaters that I could sneak on, like her pink mohair sweater.

My younger sister and I shared a room, and a bed. If one of us cried the other had the shoulder to lean on. If thunder and lightening scared one, the other was strong, even if they really weren’t inside.

I taught my younger sister to climb a tree, forgot to tell her how to get back down. We all went to movies that we didn’t tell our Dad we went to, (Bond movie, Godfather movie). We each had secrets that we shared.

Yes, one of those quotes would be nice and sweet, but the truth is that sisters (or any siblings) are much greater than a quote you can read.

My sisters could drive me crazy, I could drive them crazy. We could fight like cats and dogs, but no one better say anything about either of my sisters.

As a child, I could never figure out how my parents could be so close to my aunts and uncles.I know now, they were siblings, they knew where scars came from, how windows were broken, who ate the last piece of cake, and why things were thrown out.

Recently in one of our sister posts, I asked my younger sister a question, it made her laugh and the two older ones, we laughed. God gives us lots of gifts through a life time. I think sisters are both a precious gift and part gag gift, we know how to push buttons and make jabs that should not be made.

Today is my older sister’s birthday. The older she gets the more I love her. Yes, I do realize that the older she gets, the older I am. Our younger sister is still the baby of the family, so although she is only two years younger than me, in our minds we feel we must protect her. Plus, when I see her in my mind, she is just out of college.

My sisters have been in my heart so much lately. I am so grateful for them and for the lives we have had together and apart. Happy Birthday dearest Dottie. I wouldn’t be me without you.

Church Family

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Tonight (October 31st), our church hosted a trunk or treat. Of course, on the way to the church we could barely see three feet in front of us for the pouring rain. Our parking lot event turned into a fellowship hall event.

As usual, our church family went full in for this event. Tables instead of cars were decorated, and bowls of candy overflowed. Hotdogs were grilled and chips and water were available.

At first kids and parents trickled in. Soon, we saw a crowd. It was a delightful evening. Kids were polite and were taking only a piece at a time. Our church family was so generous in donating candy that those of us manning the tables encouraged kids to take handfuls at each bowl of treats. Their delighted faces were wonderful. Of course we all knew that the parents needed treats too, so we made certain extra went into the buckets and bags for Mom and Dad.

This is our second year of doing this event. I am always amazed at how everyone dresses up to come, but the older kids do not take candy. Tonight I encouraged an older boy to take some candy. He politely thanked me and left his younger siblings to fill their bags. I asked if he liked candy, he sheepishly affirmed he did, and finally his parent said put some in your pockets. A smile filled his face and all of a sudden a teen trying hard to be grown up became a little boy again.

Everyone who visited tonight was precious. Each had sweet conversations and we enjoyed each family that attended.

As I sat at a table I looked around at those who were there helping run this event. I love our church family. This group of people have taught me love, care and friendship. I am grateful for them.

As we begin November, I thought I would begin to thank God for all the blessings in my life, especially my church family.

“Behold, how good and how pleasant it is For brethren to dwell together in unity!” Psalm 133:1 (NKJV)

My Sweet Girl

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“Children’s children are the crown of old men, And the glory of children is their father.” Proverbs 17:6 (NKJV)

Dale and I are blessed to have two grandchildren, two bonus grandchildren and two bonus great grandchildren. Each one bring us joy and laughter.

Today, our granddaughter turns eight. Little Miss came as a surprise to us. She is always filled with surprises. Her middle name was given in honor of her aunt, our youngest. Like her namesake, she comes up with the wildest things. Also like her parents, she is full of the energy of them. She is blessed with a history and genetics that provide gasps and more gray hair for me. I love that about her.

My daughter did not want to give birth on Halloween. She was adamant about that. She vowed that she would hold off until November. I smiled and asked if she talked that over with the Lord. She now often quotes that we make our plans and the Lord laughs at them.

Our Little Miss came at just the perfect time. Her life has been ordered of the Lord. She is our pumpkin. Her zest for life astonishes me. Her caring and kindness oozes from her. Yes, I am bragging a bit, grandparents are allowed to do this.

So, precious one, have an awesome birthday. May you always have a zeal to meet and conquer whatever is before you. May you greet each challenge with the boldness of your Daddy. May you love unconditionally like your Mommy. Most of all may you continue to love your Creator who blessed us with you.

Thank YOU for our sense of smell

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It’s mid afternoon Saturday as I write this. Dale is in the kitchen now finishing up making homemade pasta. He hasn’t done this in a few years.

It will hang to dry out a bit before I cook it for dinner this evening. Earlier I made sauce. It is gently bubbling in the pan, cooking down to a thick deliciousness. I am looking forward to dinner this evening.

The aroma in our house is delightful today. It makes us anxious for dinner time. I am grateful for the ability to smell and anticipate our meal.

“I will accept you as a sweet aroma when I bring you out from the peoples and gather you out of the countries where you have been scattered; and I will be hallowed in you before the Gentiles.” Ezekiel 20:41 (NKJV)

There are several verses in the Bible about sweet aromas before God, the above verse is just one.

As I have smelled the sweet aroma of the sauce today, I have prayed that likewise, I may be a sweet aroma before our God.

Out of Nowhere

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Dale’s Dad was born in 1911. He often told the story of he and his brothers and I believe a sister piled into a Model T and drove out west. I guess somewhere in Oklahoma they picked up a goat and strapped it onto the running board of the car so they could have fresh milk. He was filled with wonderful stories like this. We would laugh until our sides hurt and tears were rolling down our cheek.

Dale and I have often talked about all his Dad saw in his lifetime. The first production line of cars, two world wars, the riots of the 60’s, space travel, telephones and right before he passed away Dale and I had bought our first computer. In one lifetime, so much was witnessed.

Granted, in my lifetime, I also have seen much, read much, experienced much. It’s the way life happens as none of us live in a bubble.

What prompted the above is a random memory that somehow, out of the dark recesses of my mind, came rushing up to the front of my brain today.

I believe I was in 7th grade and I had gone to camp for our school. It was May. Camp Glinodo was a camp run by the Benedictine Sisters. There was a pool on the property and we swam all day on Saturday. Of course, I burned, badly. I usually do that. This time there were blisters forming, which is also common for me. The nuns were checking on us for the last time. I was in the top bunk and I was crying. The nuns took me into the kitchen and figured out what to do with the burns. Eventually they decided to put milk on my sunburn. I was given something to drink and Sr. Patricia sat and talked with me.

The true reason for the tears came out at that time. My older sister was going to her prom and I wasn’t there to see her. I told the nun how beautiful her dress was, and I was so sad I couldn’t see her all dressed up. The thing I most remember from that is she had long gloves with pearl buttons on the wrist. I thought she was so elegant. I related to the nun that I was allowed to try them on and that someday, I would have long gloves like that.

After talking she took me back to bed and I slept.

I haven’t thought of that in decades.I have thought of the gloves, though. This was a time when young ladies wore gloves. When we went to church, you put your gloves on. Same with any outing. I had lacy ones with ruffles on the edge. I also had plain ones.

When I married and went to the commissary (grocery store on base), it was required to wear dresses, closed toe shoes and gloves to enter. I don’t know when gloves went out of fashion, or were no longer a requirement, but they disappeared. I never owned a pair of long gloves.

Such a random thought today. It amazes me when memories hit you. It’s like a random shot out of nowhere.

The Lord created us for things like this. Memories that make up a life. Memories that bring smiles and reminders of where you came from. Memories that are etched on our hearts and in our minds.

The Bible talks about remembering. We are encouraged to remember

“I remember the days of old; I meditate on all Your works; I muse on the work of Your hands.” Psalm 143:5 (NKJV)

Peaceful

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“I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid.” John 14:27 (NLT)

The past few weeks I have had several conversations with people going through difficult times.

Each person is experiencing a time that would like to rob you of any joy, peace or knowledge of the Lord.

I have tried to be a good listener and to respond how I think the Lord would have me respond. What I have concluded is this world is not pleasant. Yes, the scenery and artistry of God is present everywhere in this world, but, living here is filled with troubles.

Each of us experience things that can tear our heart out. Sickness, cancer, death, isolation and loneliness can drive us to the brink of wondering where our God is and if he is actually listening or caring about us personally.

It is easy to look at the situation looming towards us. It is easy to say that there is no possible way that God could be in the midst of things. It can be easy to look at the world and what it holds and be disillusioned. Personally, I have done this. I have lost joy before, I have questioned and yelled at God.

What I learned is that God is big enough to yell at Him. He can take it. He, like the loving Father He is will allow us to scream, holler, yell, roll on the floor, pitch a fit, kick and fuss. He allows our tantrums, and again, like the good Father He is, He will gently pick us up and hold us.

The situations may not have passed, but He is watching over us. It could be days, weeks, months or years later and we look back and marvel that the Lord was in the midst of that season. Ever faithful, ever watching, ever caring.

Today was a day that would have liked to rob several people of their peace, it was an unsettling day. But, God. He was in the middle of it all. He was not distant. He was not taking a nap. He was not ignoring cries from hearts. He was in the center, watching and supporting.

This morning a young man in our church ran through the gates of Heaven and into the arms of a waiting Savior. As he rushed into Heaven, I know he was greeted by our Lord, His arms wide open and waiting to hug this man. He met him and greeted him with a “Welcome Home Son, I have been anxiously waiting for you.”

“Do not sorrow, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.” Nehemiah 8:10b (NKJV)

This scripture has run through my mind this afternoon. The joy of our Lord is my strength. I do have the joy of the Lord. He gives it in abundance.

We may want to falter, and hesitate, and give up. Between the peace of God so freely given, and the joy of the Lord, which is our strength, there is nothing we cannot conquer. So, I will continue to have difficult conversations with friends. I will continue to pray how to respond. Most importantly, I will pray for them.

If Only My Legs would Move

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I love music. I love dancing, but, my feet do not move and so I stand stationary with a slight sway and sporadic hip movements. I have always longed to dance freely and I think, as a child, I did.

Somewhere a switch turned off and since then, I sway.

Each St. Patrick’s day there is a yearning deep within me to do a jig. I can feel it rising up and yet, nothing. I sway, longing to move and dreaming of someday being in Ireland. I have thought if I could get to Ireland and get in touch with my heritage, I could jig.

There was a year in our family where we celebrated many weddings. My sisters danced and had a wonderful time. I watched, aching to join in. But, my legs would not move.

In worship, I see people moving, dancing before our Lord. Again, I sway. I have actually prayed that the Lord would loosen my feet, loosen my legs and let the joy I have deep inside overflow into dance. It must be one of those prayers whose answer is Wait.

So, wait I do. I imagine when I get to heaven I will hit the gates dancing. I will be filled with such joy that I will not stop dancing. I will do a jig with my parents, I will do a dance with my child who is there, I will joyfully bounce with David, and do jazz hands with the apostles. With Jesus, I will do a waltz, allowing Him to lead me sweep across heaven, swirling and twirling. I wonder if Joshua would do a tango?

We took a dance course. It was fun, but like higher math, it did not sink into me. So, I remain a swayer yearning to explode joyfully before the Lord. Until then, I will wait and ponder on this scripture.

“Praise his name with dancing, accompanied by tambourine and harp. 4 For the Lord delights in his people;  he crowns the humble with victory.” Psalm 149:3-4 (NLT)

Memories

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“Train up a child in the way he should go, And when he is old he will not depart from it.” Proverbs 22:6 (NKJV)

Growing up, my home church was a cathedral on the hill. The spires are seen as soon as you drive into the city. For me, when I see them, I know I am home. They are a welcoming sight, they hold a lifetime of memories for me.

Today my sister posted an article and photo of the inside of the church. It has recently undergone a renovation inside. This will be the main Catholic church in town. The population has shrunk and although I grew up with four Catholic churches within the boundaries of the city, now this church will be the primary church for people. All of the churches were beautiful and it saddens me that this landmark is the only one to be used for services.

As I looked at the picture my sister posted I marveled at how it looked. Four stained glass windows were still in place above the altar. The stained glass in the church is breath-taking. The paint on the walls surrounding the windows has been restored to the beauty of when it was built in 1864. The gilding has been restored in either silver or gold, could not tell from the photo.

I remember staring at the stained glass during each service. It kept me occupied when, as a child, I was too bored to pay attention to what was going on. If we knelt, I would carry on imaginary conversations with a family of ants that didn’t exist except in my mind.

Thinking of all of this, I realized that the scripture in Proverbs came to life for me in a fresh way. My parents took me to church each week. Church was a part of my life. I attended the church school. You could say my young life was centered around the church.

As I grew, although I went in a different direction as far as churches go, I did not depart from my upbringing. I was trained up in the way I should go.