Category: Memories

Storm

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Hurricane Ian is approaching Florida. By time this is posted, it will have already hit and started it’s damage. Many are already interceding for the people of the state of Florida. Family, and friends who are there are checking in to make certain others know they are okay for now.

Ian is close to a Cat 5 hurricane. I used to look at the coverage on the television and think how bad it was. But, in watching the news I saw people. I didn’t know them, I didn’t think about what they were going through. I did pray, but I confess it was not earnestly.

A few years ago Hurricane Michael hit the panhandle of Florida. It was a Cat 5 hurricane. Our oldest and her family evacuated and went west. They ended up finding an rental in Louisiana, I believe. They did not come to our home because the storm was eventually making it’s way to our neck of the woods.

Their home and their properties survived, but all were damaged. They thought the house they were living in at the time escaped serious damage, but, after the first night home, our daughter woke up in her bed to see the light above her filled with water. For the next several weeks they slept in the guest room and our granddaughter slept in her toyroom, two rooms that were safe enough to sleep in.

Another few weeks later, Dale and I visited our Florida kids. We were shocked to see the damage that still was present. There were no highway signs. Something I never thought about. Homes were covered in tarps because of waiting for repairs and supplies to fix roofs. Trees were mowed down in swaths. My words fail to describe.

In the immediate aftermath our daughter talked about the stench that was present. With no power, food had spoiled. Being on the Gulf of Mexico, fish is a staple in homes. Imagine the smell of rotting fish in overflowing trash cans lining the streets. Trash pick up was impossible with the trees, vehicles and parts of houses in the streets.

I am saying this to give an idea of what people are facing right now. Florida is a place filled with senior citizens, and military families. Everyone is part of someone’s family. Everyone is important to someone.

Lord, You know exactly where and when this storm is going to hit. Go ahead of the storm and prepare the route. Be in the midst of the storm providing safety and peace to those who are riding it out and in their homes and evacuation centers. Be present after the storm moves on to be the provision for people, for states, for cities. Provide what needs to be done. Amen

“The Lord is good, a strong refuge when trouble comes. He is close to those who trust in him.” Nahum 1:7 (NLT)

Keepsakes of the Heart

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“Every time I think of you, I give thanks to my God.” Philippians 1:3 (NLT)

There are years when this day passes like every other day. The 27th of September, the month is almost over and soon October will be here. A day in the month, a day of the week.

Still other years my mind travels and my heart opens up to remind me of the keepsakes I carry there. On September 27th in 1966 my Mom passed away. It seems like ancient history most times. My sisters and I not only survived, we thrived. We continued on in our life. Yes, we met with more than a few hiccups, but we kept moving and going and are stronger today because of this event.

When the years come where this is on my mind, I sit and study the reasoning behind my thoughts. Am I okay? Do I miss my sisters? Am I on that tape of wondering the what if’s?

I am okay. I do miss my sisters, who doesn’t when we live far apart? And yes, I do compare my relationships with my daughters and wonder the what if’s in life.

The reality is, I will never know if I would have had conflict with my mother during my teen years. Neither will I know how I would have handled (or how she would have handled) my getting married young and moving away. I will wonder what kind of a grandmother she would have been. Would I have had to tell her not to spoil my girls? Yes, there are a lot of what if’s, not only because of losing a parent, but in life in general we have what if’s.

It’s been 56 years since she passed away. Breakthroughs have happened in cancer research, the world has greatly changed. We have grown up. I do wonder what she would think of cell phones and computers and flying cars, oh yeh, that hasn’t really happened yet. I got distracted.

In truth, my memories of her are keepsakes. Things to pull out on occasion and examine and look at. I am thankful for those memories. I know some are from stories and some are actual memories. She gave my sisters and I a good foundation. She gave us strength, and a sense of humor. I was once told by my Dad that I had my mother’s temper, don’t know if that’s a good thing…

So today, although the keepsakes have escaped from the vault of my heart, I am thankful she gave me life. I am thankful for what she instilled in me. I am thankful I don’t have her nose. I am thankful that for eleven years of my life I had a great Mom.

A Memory kind of day

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“Your own ears will hear him. Right behind you a voice will say, “This is the way you should go,”
  whether to the right or to the left.” Isaiah 30:21 (NLT)

Today is one of those rainy days. The kind of day where pajamas call to you and a blanket is yearning to be wrapped around you. They will have to wait a few more minutes this evening as I write this.

My mind today has been filled with snippets of memories. Japan has come to mind as has Maine and San Diego. Each memory has been brief, but poignant to me.

A family in our church has just returned from an extended mission in Asia. This morning we briefly talked about Asian food. She is hungry for food from that region. I told her we understood, as we are continuously looking for good Japanese food. It’s hard to explain what we are looking for though. It is food that first fills your senses with the greeting and the particular smell of soy, barbecuing to a certain crispness and the smell of seaweed all mingled together. It’s a scent you carry with you and in earnest we look for.

Another couple has relocated from CA, a familiar area to us. She was also part of the conversation and I mentioned Mexican food. She smiled and agreed with me. Although the south has many incredible dishes, Mexican dishes are not part of the ‘must write home about this’ category.

A little later a friend mentioned lobsters and how her eight year old son long ago asked for a lobster. We talked about the price and how it is only on a luxury meal where you get lobster. I recounted how we knew lobster-men in Maine and our oldest cut her teeth on lobster. It was a shock to her little system, when at three years old we moved from the coast of Maine to the other side of the country.

I find it funny that most memories center around food. But with meals come conversations and conversations lead to friendships and family. We always said while serving in the Navy that God cuts the orders and Uncle Sam paid for the way there. For 21 years the Lord directed our steps. He told us to turn to the left, or to the right. He guided us in the way He wanted us to go. He never failed us.

Because of this, we now have deep impressions in our minds of times and places and people He brought into our lives. The memories today are precious to me, but I confess, I wish the Lord would now direct us here to the places that food would take our taste buds back to what they remember.

Quiet

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Some synonyms of quiet are: muted, peaceful, silent, soft, hushed, reserved, still, low, soundless.

Today I have pondered quiet. As I walked today there was a muffled sound of traffic in the distance, the call of the birds in the trees, and the sound of my footsteps on the driveway gravel.

It was still, peaceful, hushed. We longed for quiet when we lived in San Diego. We were opposite the freeway. There was the constant hum of eight lanes of traffic. The steady rumble of vehicles traveling by at high speeds. The access road below our house sounded with the thump, the grating, the grinding of the machines in various buildings. In the sky above was the sound of jets landing and departing from the airport. Police helicopters swooped by sometimes instructing those below to remain in their homes for safety. Military jets and helicopters flew overhead, training or heading to a mission. There was no quiet. It was constant noise pollution all around us.

Now, we live in a rural place. Our home is surrounded by woods. We live on a quiet road. Rarely do we hear planes or helicopters. It is still, peaceful and our bodies have adjusted to the lack of noise.

So often we keep ourselves at such a hectic pace, it is hard to be still. We grow used to chaos, noise, activity. It wears us out, physically, emotionally and spiritually.

I used to drive to the mountains when we lived in San Diego. The mountains offered quiet, stillness. I would leave early in the morning and spend time soaking the quiet while parked beside Lake Cuyamaca. Eventually I would head home a bit refreshed. By time I got home, though, fighting the traffic and starting to plan meals for the family in my head, I was once more unsettled and busy.

When looking for our forever home, the one thing we both readily agreed on was it had to be quiet. Our precious Lord answered that request in abundance.

“You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you!” Isaiah 26:3 (NLT)

51 years, a brief look back

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“For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11 (NLT)

51 years ago, I never really thought of this above verse. It didn’t matter to me and because of that, I gave it no thought.

In hindsight, though, I think of all that was involved in bringing things to a point 51 years ago.

First a music director from our high school needed things moved to his cottage several miles away from our city. He hired two young men from the school to help him move those things. The two young men worked hard all day long and at the end of the day, he paid them for their work.

One of the young men went home and spent the night in with his parents and siblings. The other asked to use his mother’s car for a date. He then called a young girl who actually had other plans for the night.

The young girl’s sister insisted that the girl should accept the invitation to the date.

The two high school kids went to the bowling alley, bowled three games and drank a cola.

He drove her home, kissed her and they watched the 11:00 news together. He drove home.

All of these things worked together. The night went off without a hitch and that was that.

Now, I can look back and see the hand of God in all of this. Had Dale not worked for his music director, he wouldn’t have had the money to ask me out. Had my sister not insisted I accept the offer of a date, I would have gone to another fire-hall dance with my friend and gone home. I have no idea what would have been the alternate of that evening fifty one years ago today.

At the time I had no idea that it would be my last first date. I had no idea it would be my last first kiss. I had no idea that one date would be the beginning of my future. It’s funny how moments can pass innocently and we never think it was really a momentous moment.

Yet, God knew the plans He had for me. Plans for a future and a hope. Plans for good even when we goofed up and went on another path that could lead to disaster. God had a plan. I have often questioned this plan. When on my own with two young children and a deployment being extended several times over, when times were lean and months were long, when sickness or broken bones occurred and the Navy had my support system on the other side of the world.

Yet, today, I see that all of these plans were right for us. We have grown up together. We have stretched each other many times. We have challenged one another, each holding our ground firmly.

Through it all, God has seen us through. 51 years ago was our first date, thank you Mr. Runzo for that $40 you paid the guys. Thank you Mom for letting Dale use your car. Thank you Dottie for suggesting bowling instead of the fire-hall dance. Little did we know you were all part of a bigger plan.

“And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” Matthew 28:20b (NLT)

A Quiet Day

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Most of my days are quiet. With just Dale and I together, we live a pretty sedate life. We enjoy it and relish our time together.

Today, Dale was gone and my thoughts wandered back to other times when I would have a day just for myself. I was a stay at home Mom for most of my life. I started back to work when our youngest started school. I worked part time so that I could be with my girls and they could have a schedule. It worked for us.

Before our girls were born, I usually had every other day off for the most part. I worked days on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and evenings on Thursday, Friday and once a month on Saturday. During those days off I would wander down to the villages we lived near in Japan. I would browse the shops and enjoy our surroundings. Stopping at the fruit and vegetable market, I would buy our produce and head home, either by bus or just walking. They were peaceful days and I loved the experience of living overseas.

When the girls came along, quiet days were very rare, although occasionally we would hit on one. Times spent at a park or at the beach didn’t feel quiet, but in retrospect they were wonderful memory filled times.

I stopped working full time when Dale finished college after his military retirement. His job required him to travel and I once more had quiet days to myself.

I enjoy quiet times and once we both officially retired, time together was what we have shared. I do confess, though, there are times when I ask when the next deployment is going to be. Those comments are met with laughter and I think only about the closets I would like to clean out and have things ‘disappear’.

That is what I have found. Retirement is a wonderful time, but, as a housewife purging unnecessary things is difficult. Also, just watching mindless movies that are predictable isn’t common. I find myself being cognizant of what I watch, what I snack on, what I do.

Today, though, was a throw-back quiet day. A day to myself. It has been relaxing. I haven’t really accomplished anything. I have sat back and absorbed the quiet. I have eaten brownies. The closets are still cluttered, the floors still need vacuumed, the ironing is still waiting, wrinkled, but I am almost relaxed. The dinner hour is approaching and I am drawing a blank, but I know I will bring something together.

For now, the quiet of the house has given me a respite. It has been nice. I have needed a quiet day.

A Mother’s Heart

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Recently I have been thinking about a mother’s heart. Not her physical heart, but that part of a woman that makes her Mom.

When a woman finds out she is going to be a mother, at least for me, it changes her outlook on everything. Things are weighed with safety, and logic. We are bound to the life within us and it is part of who we are and who we become.

When my daughters were young I worried incessantly. Was I doing the right things? Was I taking care of them correctly? Was I attentive enough? I continued to feed, change, bathe, clothe and hover as much as I could. The result? My girls became girls.

When my daughters reached the age of being girls, I worried incessantly. Did they have enough nice toys? Did they have a healthy meal? Did they have enough social interaction? I continued to watch their diet, their social lives, their wardrobe and I hovered close by. The result? They became teenagers.

As teens I worried incessantly. Were they safe at school and during social activities? Were they making right food choices when I wasn’t there? Were they comfortable in their clothes and skin? Were they happy? I continued to monitor and hovered from a distance (or so I thought). The result? They became adults.

As adults, I worried incessantly. Did they have enough? Were they happy? Were they safe? I watched from afar and tried not to hover. The results? They became wonderful women with husbands and families.

Now, their family is growing up. I see them doing some of the same things I did. I smile and try to reassure them.

But, now, my mother’s heart questions myself. Did I do right? Did I make a good example? Did I do it right?

I know all women think similar thoughts. For those of us with children, we realize they were gifted to us for a season and questions linger when we think of the season where we had influence on our children. A mother worries. It’s our nature. We want to nurture, but we need to learn when it is not our job to nurture all the time, it is time for spouses to take that place.

I think the hardest part of parenting now, for me, is to not push myself on them. My girls have families and commitments and duties that I am not part of. I think of them daily. I pray for them daily. And yes, I worry daily. Proverbs 22:6 says, “Direct your children onto the right path, and when they are older, they will not leave it.” (NLT)

I love this scripture, yet, I wonder, did I direct them correctly? With those thoughts I once more pray for them and yes, I worry, are they happy? Do they have enough? Are they okay? Did they laugh today?

My Baby

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Almost 40 years ago today, my youngest was born. Dale was out to sea, and I had just moved our belongings into our newly purchased home with friends helping. We still had baby things and nursery things in our garage, not set up or ready to go.

Again, my brother from another mother and his wife were at the ready to keep me going. She was with me for labor and the birth of our youngest and he put the crib and changing table together.

Our youngest was a rainbow baby, a baby born after the loss of another. She was and still is a rainbow in our lives. She taught me joy, a deep abiding joy. She taught me to laugh harder than I had ever known. Her quiet spirit is evident in all she does.

I write about her birthday almost every year. It is a time of joy for Dale and I. We are blessed by this gift from our Lord. Each year I also struggle with how to describe this woman. She is multi-faceted in her abilities and her giftings, yet each time I fail to totally portray her.

Our children are precious gifts to us. Each one teaches you different things. Each one grows into an unique adult. I stand back often and think of my daughters. The women they are and how they got to be where they are. On birthdays especially, I look at their lives and remember the impact they made on me, how they shaped me into the person I am today.

So, happiest of birthdays my dear Rachel. You are a gift and a joy. I hope you are spoiled with gifts and love as you have spoiled me with the gift of you. Thank you for being you. Love you.

Genesis 2:1-3

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“So the creation of the heavens and the earth and everything in them was completed. 2 On the seventh day God had finished his work of creation, so he rested[a] from all his work. 3 And God blessed the seventh day and declared it holy, because it was the day when he rested from all his work of creation.” Genesis 2:1-3 (NLT)

With each day there was a boundary established by God, day, night, sea, land, seed bearing fruit, trees, birds, fish. Each creation had a boundary. Then He rested.

For the past two weeks, I have not given myself boundaries. I did not schedule time to write or really exercise. I enjoyed the company of my daughter, her husband and our Little Miss. Each day held it’s own excitement and adventures, even if it was just sitting on the couch watching television and playing restaurant. Each day gave me memories to cherish.

Now, we are home. Today I awoke with determination to get back into full swing of schedules. I have half succeeded. Laundry is finishing, most of the groceries are put away, and although writing has been on the forefront of my mind, these words are my only accomplishment.

I tend to be pretty hard on myself when I am not in a regimen. I look at numbers in my statistics on my blog, each time reminding myself that stats are just numbers. That does not always work for me, because with each number I see a person that has reached out to me. Each person who reads what I attempt to say is a gift to me, after all, they have taken time from their day to see what I have tried to say.

When my stats go to ‘0’ or ‘1’, I chide myself. I see in my mind a finger pointing at me and scolding me for not being where I think I should be. There are a lot of “I’s” in these sentences. It is then, that I remember that this blog is a gift also. My words do not come without a lot of prayer and my Lord sees the entire perspective. This blog belongs to Him and only through Him can I write.

So, after pushing myself to get back on track, fretting and stewing that I am not back where I think I should be, I have heard a gentle voice whispering, “Chill out! I’ve got this.” Followed by my thankfulness that I serve a God who understands me.

New Beginnings

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“School is a building which has four walls with tomorrow inside.” – Lon Watters

Last night we went to Little Miss’ school to meet her teacher for this coming year and see her classroom.

It’s been a long time since I was able to participate in such an activity. Her teacher greeted us and introduced herself to our granddaughter, who then took off to talk with friends and explore her second grade classroom.

It was fun to see the manipulatives on the shelves, the books in the library, the signs on walls. Everything was fascinating to me.

I was surprised that this simple trip brought back a flood of memories. I thought of my daughter’s second grade classes and most of all, I thought of my own second grade year. This took me back in time, thinking of my teacher, classmates the ones who remain friends, the ones that were goofy, but now are wonderful people. I also thought of events that happened in my second grade year. Little things that don’t matter much, except to seven and eight year olds.

Time has a way of fleeting by us. Sometimes we think that days, weeks, months or years drag by. We wait anxiously for milestones to occur, we look forward to big things and little things.

Last night I went to meet my granddaughter’s second grade teacher and was flooded with memories from sixty years ago. In the hours after attending, I wondered how the time had flown.

“School bells are ringing loud and clear; vacation’s over, school is here.” — Winifred C. Marshal