In Celebration of a Life

 

 

Today . . . October 12 we would be celebrating my dad's 80th Birthday

 had he lived to see this day.

The Lord took him home at the age of 74 and I can say  . . .

with the words of a favorite song by Chris Tomlin . . .  that all is well.

There’s a peace I’ve come to know
Though my heart and flesh may fail
There’s an anchor for my soul
I can say “It is well”
Jesus has overcome
And the grave is overwhelmed
The victory is won
He is risen from the dead
Chorus:
And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles’ wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise
There’s a day that’s drawing near
When this darkness breaks to light
And the shadows disappear
And my faith shall be my eyes.
 

This week we gathered once more as an extended family
on my H's side to celebrate the life of our dear sister-in-law, Susie.
 She has joined the crowd of witnesses
cheering us on to finish our race well.



She leaves to mourn five children with spouses
 nine grand-children - some newly  married -
and her loving husband, George.
 To see him commit her back
 to the One who gave her to him more than fifty years ago . . .
was to witness a moment of a trust and surrender
that words cannot express.

Many times I wondered why God was not answering our prayers for her healing.
 Why did she have to suffer for so long?
On this day I may have seen a glimpse of the reason
as I heard her grandchildren rise up and share of the impact she has had on them
 . . . from the oldest to the youngest there came a sense of deep respect
for her non-judgmental, yet always honest, loving support,
Putting aside her own pain, she made each one of them feel
like they were all that mattered.
  

Her deep love for her family and God has impacted
us all in ways that time will continue to prove.
I've been challenged to be the kind of grandmother she was . . .
Holding on to faith . . . and never giving up in the things
that will matter in the end.

Thanksgiving

 

Monday morning we loaded up the car and enjoyed the beautiful twenty minute drive to the Janzen Lakehouse to celebrate with my side of the family. I noticed mom and Abe were already there . . . at his cabin next door. My nineteen-year-old cousin, who is a student here from Paraguay, was the first to bounce in. She told me that the pies were in the oven next door. I quickly decorated the" mantle" and then put her to work scrubbing potatoes while I set things up for a potato bar.

My H made a fire in the firepit and, as family arrived, some gathered there while hotdogs got cooked for the little kids. I believe this is the first time the picnic table got used for Thanksgiving and the kids got to run about in the sunshine, swing high on a tire swing or chase a little visiting poodle.



 

Once the kids had eaten, the adults were free to gather around the kitchen island. We stood, joining together in a traditional hymn of thanks . . . Praise God from Whom all Blessing Flow. Maybe not everyone there knew it . . . but if they keep coming, they will surely learn it. We were nineteen adults, with a number who could not be there. 

And just because we did not have turkey this time . . .  did not mean that plates did not get filled to the brim. I enjoyed seeing the different kinds of loaded potatoes . . . 

this was no match to "Wendy's" potato.

Our new experiment worked well! I did not hear any complaints . . . just a lot of happy chatter around the dining and family room tables.

Warm pie and perishky followed suit.



 We do love our celebrations! It can be a beautifully set table for special occasions, but it can also be a simple potluck or a meal around a firepit. What matters is that we get together.

By now you have heard about what is going on in our private kitchens
where we have been thinking about and planning for all kinds of reasons to celebrate
Thoughts, recipes and menus being put together as we work on our next cookbook
will simply be called

CELEBRATIONS

An important part of life!

You're Welcome!

To go with our practice of giving thanks for the food before eating, Papa loves getting the little ones to fold their hands and thank for the food. On Saturday he was asking Koen, who is barely two now, to repeat after him. So this is what we listened to . . .
Papa: Dear Jesus . . .
Koen: Dear Jesus
Papa: thank you . . .
Koen: you're welcome!
I'm not sure if the prayer got finished, because we all got the giggles and, Koey, looking around and seeing smiles, laughed - not knowing why.

I've thought about this funny little story since, and how we could welcome the Lord Jesus to the table. Of course, there is the obvious, general care that we can extend to each other in our conversations and inviting Him into our presence in the way we talk and what we say,  but is there more?

I opened my Bible to Matthew where Jesus tells of how one day the sheep will get separated from the goats. It reads . . .
"All the nations will be gathered before Him . . . and the King will say to those on his right, "Come, you who are blessed by my Father, take your inheritance . . . for I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in. I needed clothes and you clothed me . . . "
Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you a drink . . ."
The King will reply, "I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." (Matthew 25: 31-40)

These are the thoughts that have been a part of  preparing a Thanksgiving table. Is there room for someone who'd be alone on this day? Is there room for extending myself on behalf of others? Is Jesus welcome?

More thoughts from the Fall Season of Life

I take my hat off to the young moms who daily get through the routine of getting their kids dressed, fed, into the car and at the school drop off lane, before the school bell goes off.

On Monday, after I had all three kids strapped into their car seats with few minutes to spare, I had this strange urge to go back into the house to use those minutes for a moment to myself . . . and this was only the first day of the week!

Going through the reality of nighttime coughs . . . 

changing diapers . . . 

crawling under the table to mop up crumbs and spaghetti . . .

 giving more control to little minds in regard to what they want to eat or wear

 than what appeals to me . . .

putting toys back into the toy box so that it can be emptied again . . .

 all of these daily” mommy moments” are reasons I am so glad

 to give one special mom the chance to take a vacation.

 

And the wonderful, amazing thing is that because she is their mom she will be happy to come home again!  To be that hero in their eyes . . . the one who wipes their tears, kisses away their hurts and loves them unconditionally . . .  is worth it all!

So, today, as you wipe noses, zip un-cooperating zippers, prepare snacks, clean up snacks, fold little shirts, undo tiny socks turned inside out and listen to kids chatter and noise . . . remember it’s just a season. I pray that with all of the new challenges facing parents today, you can hold onto the hope that God is still the same and always there to give patience and wisdom to us in time of need. We just need to ask . . . like kids do.

 

And before you know it, the day you will come when you will be happy do it all over again for each of these - your little angels in training.

Defining Seasons

I was pushing the boys on the swings under the maple tree in our back yard,

when I looked up and thought back to the day it was planted . . .

about twenty-five years ago.



If trees could talk!

The sapling that it was, I probably could have enfolded it’s trunk with one hand.

I remember getting a funny look from the gardener

when I cautioned him not to go too close to the wash line.

Do you see it there? The top of the pole just shows up at the bottom of the photo.

 I wonder the funny look I would have given

had someone told me that my grandchildren

would be swinging from that tree one day.

Eight of them!

 

This week we are back to feeling like parents

as three of them have been entrusted to our care.

 The days begin earlier than usual.

By the time I have them dressed, fed and buckled into their car seats 

I feel like I have surely earned some kind of an award!

Natalie gets dropped off in front of her Grade one class

and the boys come back home with me.

 

I've had to smile at how two boys energize each other.

The greatest discovery has been the fact that

they can use the garage as a hockey rink..

 

They change their names to reflect two other brothers on their favourite team

 and off they go!

  

Another thing that caught me by surprise was how an old baby toy

suddenly became a sword and shield! Who would have known?

And as for the favoured highway for little vehicles . . .

I’ve come to convince myself that those fine lines on the black coffee table

look quite okay on there. It’s the look . . . 
not unlike the smile lines on a Grammy's face.

By the time the sun sets, I feel like an old tree that is more used to days in the

shade . . . than the young sapling mom I used to be.

The best time of the day is when I get to dig into the warm water

in the kitchen sink . . .

and Papa takes them all outside to run off some steam

before baths and bedtime stories.

 

A Post Ending On Dining Etiquette

 

The "twin-cousins" have a special relationship that began with sisters announcing their pregnancy to each other on the same day. I was almost bursting by that time since I had known about each secret for several weeks. It's hard to believe more than five years have gone by since that day and that now these cousins . . . born in different countries . . . come over every week for a play date. The years apart did not set them back at all. They are best buds!

One will come in the door announcing that he can now put on his own seatbelt and the other will affirm the fact that she can too. One plays the daddy and one the mommy. It usually works out quite well in the playhouse. They laugh at the same jokes. They get thirsty at the same time.

Makenna, our little romantic, had the idea to eat their lunch on a little table on the patio and Landon complied.

 

It all became more special when I allowed them to cut up their own pancakes.

 

When she saw he could do it, she could too!

I enjoyed observing their simple act of using the fork and knife like that . . .
which led me to a thought about differences in utensil etiquette.

I married a man who was taught to eat with his knife in his right hand and fork in his left, eating the whole meal like that, even when there is no food to cut up. Meanwhile, I grew up in a home where we simply cut up our food and then put down our knife and ate. I have since learned that one is the European way and one is the American way to eat. If you like to watch people, you will notice it. The difference is that you don't switch the utensils in your hands while eating. I always think the European way looks "fancy" or "formal" and try to eat that way when it suits the occasion. I'm not quite sure what that makes me.