Finally the days are getting longer, the evening sun goes down a bit later and the sunrise happens earlier; spring is just around the corner according to the calendar.
We've had a new president for 30 days now and have watched as he passed an unprecedented spending bill of monumental proportion's. While the country hovers on the brink of financial collapse, we watch as our congress adds pork after more pork on a "stimulus" package which is out of control and will probably benefit few Americans, if any. We were told that we would get a whopping $13 added to our checks beginning in June, if we make more than a certain amount. Whoopie! $13 WHOLE dollars?
The evening news is filled with bad news from around the world: Wars, hunger, foreclosures, and nothing being done. Instead, we escape to the red carpet of Hollywood to watch as a group of liberals pick which movie is best and talk for days about who wore what dress and who looked the best for the event...Is this real life?
In my world I am driving a 10 year old van and trying to make ends meet which come up about two-weeks a month short of having "just enough."
But then something wonderful happens: One of the kids call and stops by to visit; we get to keep the grandkids for the day; I have time to spend with my mother; one of my sisters call to say all is okay in their world. We are richly blessed in our world. Another day when Rick is working, we have food on our table and a roof over our head. We are part of an incredible church family and have more friends surrounding us than I can name.
It is on these days that I can count my blessings and realize how good our life is here in America. We watched as people in Bombay cheered in the allies for a movie portraying a boy who becomes a millionaire. Maybe real life is too difficult for them to bear. Regardless of the economy, in my world our riches far out number our short falls. Love, friends, our Lord, our relationships, all of which make up a life far better than most people in the world. And so another day; Life is Good.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Sweethearts
Happy Valentine's Day! This day has a special meaning to Rick and me, as it was 40 years ago today that we enjoyed our first date. After meeting at a Halloween party a few months prior, I had seen Rick at several youth group activities, but neither of us were old enough to date. At that time, 16 years old was the magic age of dating. Finally he got up the nerve to ask me out on a real date and it was Valentine's Day, 1969. We went to get something to eat and then bowling.
When we talked about it yesterday, gulp, 40 years, we both laughed and at the same time said, "I am way too young to be this old!" That is one of many advantages to having a long-term relationships, you know what the other is thinking and can talk simultaneously. Of course, there are many other beneifts, too, like history. We have a history together that is shared by no one else.
Having rasied three children, we have lots of historical moments: Each of their births, their delightful toddler years, the vacations we took as a family, school years, sports, their success moments, holidays and lots more. But we have other moments that only the two of us shared: Get-away weekends, sneak away times to be alone, times behind closed doors when we could talk in private.
I remember when Billy, our oldest was getting married and we met Jill's parents for the first time. One of the things her mother, Carol, asked us was if we ever had a fight. She said Billy told them he could never remember us fighting... Maybe those were the "behind closed door moments." We have had our disagreements, but to be honest, we learned very early in our marrage that there isn't a whole lot that is really worth fighting about. Most issues resolve themselves without anyone getting angry.
Some things in the last 40 years have changed. Although we still have some of the same friends, remarkably, some we don't see on a regular basis. We have lots of new friends that have become important to our lives and whose friendship we value immeasureably. We still attend church regularly and that is probably one of the secrets to our long relationship: Christ has always been in our lives. Now that our kids are grown and married, we have grandchildren on whom we dote our affection. We still love going on family vactations and spending holidays, weekend dinners and mid-week gatherings together. We actually enjoy each other's company. But our bodies tell the story that we are ageing gracefully. Rick falls asleep in his chair more often and I sleep less in the middle of the night.
And now that we are "empty nesters" we have more quiet time together. I still untie Rick's boots when he gets home and fix him a cold drink when he looks parched. He still remembers to kiss me goodmorning, goodnight, hello and goodbye when he comes in or out. And we never forget to tell each other those most important words daily: I love you.
One thing we can always say is that through the ups and downs of life, God is good. He directs our paths, keeps us on the straight and narrow and blesses us beyond measure. All in all, Life is Good. I hope you enjoy this day for sweethearts and enjoy the company of the ones you love.
Happy Valentines Day!
When we talked about it yesterday, gulp, 40 years, we both laughed and at the same time said, "I am way too young to be this old!" That is one of many advantages to having a long-term relationships, you know what the other is thinking and can talk simultaneously. Of course, there are many other beneifts, too, like history. We have a history together that is shared by no one else.
Having rasied three children, we have lots of historical moments: Each of their births, their delightful toddler years, the vacations we took as a family, school years, sports, their success moments, holidays and lots more. But we have other moments that only the two of us shared: Get-away weekends, sneak away times to be alone, times behind closed doors when we could talk in private.
I remember when Billy, our oldest was getting married and we met Jill's parents for the first time. One of the things her mother, Carol, asked us was if we ever had a fight. She said Billy told them he could never remember us fighting... Maybe those were the "behind closed door moments." We have had our disagreements, but to be honest, we learned very early in our marrage that there isn't a whole lot that is really worth fighting about. Most issues resolve themselves without anyone getting angry.
Some things in the last 40 years have changed. Although we still have some of the same friends, remarkably, some we don't see on a regular basis. We have lots of new friends that have become important to our lives and whose friendship we value immeasureably. We still attend church regularly and that is probably one of the secrets to our long relationship: Christ has always been in our lives. Now that our kids are grown and married, we have grandchildren on whom we dote our affection. We still love going on family vactations and spending holidays, weekend dinners and mid-week gatherings together. We actually enjoy each other's company. But our bodies tell the story that we are ageing gracefully. Rick falls asleep in his chair more often and I sleep less in the middle of the night.
And now that we are "empty nesters" we have more quiet time together. I still untie Rick's boots when he gets home and fix him a cold drink when he looks parched. He still remembers to kiss me goodmorning, goodnight, hello and goodbye when he comes in or out. And we never forget to tell each other those most important words daily: I love you.
One thing we can always say is that through the ups and downs of life, God is good. He directs our paths, keeps us on the straight and narrow and blesses us beyond measure. All in all, Life is Good. I hope you enjoy this day for sweethearts and enjoy the company of the ones you love.
Happy Valentines Day!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Great Expectations
Great Expectations
Our new pastor stood in the pulpit last Sunday, humbled by the outpouring of good recommendations he received from friends and co-workers. He said he wanted us to know, “I’m not that good!”
He could have been talking to deaf ears. We have great expectations.
As I thought about his claims, and pondered the expectations we have for him, his family and our church, it made me think that if we don’t have expectations for our lives, what do we have?
I know there are some people who view life and say, “Well, I don’t expect much so I’ll never be disappointed.” But I believe the majority of us view life as an adventure, expecting the best in every situation. In reality, we do have great expectations.
The political conventions are just over and the candidates have hit the trail. Their message is one of hope: We have great expectations for our country.
School children have just flooded the classrooms and hallways again, starting on new chapters in their lives, most filled with the possibility of great expectations.
Business owners, executives, salespeople and shoppers are all looking at the economy, all with hopeful anticipation. We all have great expectations of what is to come.
I heard a politician on the radio the other day say something about the future is the history that is yet to be written. I have to challenge that statement by saying that the present is the history yet to be written. Every day has historic implications. We only have one chance at making history today.
Over the course of my vast years of living, I’ve viewed life from various vantage points. As a kid, it was all play, no work, lots of fun. As a teenager, my focus was on school and church. As a young working mother, it seems I just wanted to get through each day with my sanity. But as our children grew up, our expectations of life began to change. Instead of focusing our desires on what Rick and I need, we began to look at our children (and now our first beautiful granddaughter, Sierra), and think about what we would like for them. Happiness, obviously; Great health, of course; A relationship with God, paramount; And lots of love surrounding them daily. We have great expectations for their lives.
Is expecting the best enough? I’ve asked myself that question for the last several months as I work diligently on a publishing project that I hope to launch later this month. I could easily sit at my desk, waiting, hoping for the best outcome. But expecting the best doesn’t make it happen. With great expectations comes great responsibility. And reality is that great results require great amounts of hard work. Which seems to be where many people fail.
I do have great expectations for the rest of my life. I surround myself with positive, encouraging, spiritual people who also have great expectations. I hope I impart that same attitude to those around me: I expect great things from them as well. The history written for today only has one 24-hour period to make a difference. I choose to view it with great expectations.
Our new pastor stood in the pulpit last Sunday, humbled by the outpouring of good recommendations he received from friends and co-workers. He said he wanted us to know, “I’m not that good!”
He could have been talking to deaf ears. We have great expectations.
As I thought about his claims, and pondered the expectations we have for him, his family and our church, it made me think that if we don’t have expectations for our lives, what do we have?
I know there are some people who view life and say, “Well, I don’t expect much so I’ll never be disappointed.” But I believe the majority of us view life as an adventure, expecting the best in every situation. In reality, we do have great expectations.
The political conventions are just over and the candidates have hit the trail. Their message is one of hope: We have great expectations for our country.
School children have just flooded the classrooms and hallways again, starting on new chapters in their lives, most filled with the possibility of great expectations.
Business owners, executives, salespeople and shoppers are all looking at the economy, all with hopeful anticipation. We all have great expectations of what is to come.
I heard a politician on the radio the other day say something about the future is the history that is yet to be written. I have to challenge that statement by saying that the present is the history yet to be written. Every day has historic implications. We only have one chance at making history today.
Over the course of my vast years of living, I’ve viewed life from various vantage points. As a kid, it was all play, no work, lots of fun. As a teenager, my focus was on school and church. As a young working mother, it seems I just wanted to get through each day with my sanity. But as our children grew up, our expectations of life began to change. Instead of focusing our desires on what Rick and I need, we began to look at our children (and now our first beautiful granddaughter, Sierra), and think about what we would like for them. Happiness, obviously; Great health, of course; A relationship with God, paramount; And lots of love surrounding them daily. We have great expectations for their lives.
Is expecting the best enough? I’ve asked myself that question for the last several months as I work diligently on a publishing project that I hope to launch later this month. I could easily sit at my desk, waiting, hoping for the best outcome. But expecting the best doesn’t make it happen. With great expectations comes great responsibility. And reality is that great results require great amounts of hard work. Which seems to be where many people fail.
I do have great expectations for the rest of my life. I surround myself with positive, encouraging, spiritual people who also have great expectations. I hope I impart that same attitude to those around me: I expect great things from them as well. The history written for today only has one 24-hour period to make a difference. I choose to view it with great expectations.
Grandma Ruthie
My father’s mother is turning 90 in a few days and this weekend will be a huge family celebration of her life. We have people coming in from all over the country to see her and be with her and enjoy this special time. She is quite a lady.
One of the things we are doing is to collect memories from everyone on fancy little note cards and we will be presenting them to her in a memory box we are making. After her birthday, she will be able to read through them, over and over again, jogging her memory and bringing a smile to her face, I’m sure.
My sister, Mary Jo, and I have vastly different memories than our other sisters, who came along 10 years later. We remember the “hay-day” of the parties and family gatherings at Grandma’s house. We had lots of cousins and second-cousins and assorted relatives who would congregate at Grandma’s for Christmas. Then one of the neighbors would dress up like Santa and bring all of us packages that had suddenly disappeared from under the tree. And it seemed that every year on Christmas Eve at Grandma’s, the snow would begin falling just before we left to go home.
Memories are important to our family. And collecting these memories for her has been an especially “memorable” time for me and my Aunt Betty, who is planning the party. Reflecting on the many friends Grandma has and the way that they have been close for so many years. One of the cards was signed, “Your friend of 56 years.” What more can you ask at age 90 than to be surrounded by friends and relatives who love you?
For the last few weeks Grandma has been staying in an assisted living home because of weakness in her legs. But after therapy, we hope she will be back to her home before the party. Until she went to there, she has kept a busy schedule every day: shopping and lunch with her friends on Thursdays, breakfast with retired co-workers on Tuesdays, hair appointments, walks in the neighborhood, and visits with her friends. Her life has been a joy to many people both in and out of our family circle.
And she can still recall so many good times, great memories, wonderful stories that we hope will be accumulated to share with the next generations. She is the oldest in our fifth-generation family.
So for the next few days before the party, the memory cards are directed to me and I have the chance to read them first, smile at the memories, try to remember who exactly the person is who sent it, and then place them carefully in her Memory Box. The whole thing has been as enjoyable for me as I hope it is to Grandma.
I am confident that over the next months and years, we will remember her party, the gathering of friends and family and the day that we officially celebrate her long life of 90 years. But here is to hoping we celebrate again in ten more years.
Happy Birthday Grandma!
One of the things we are doing is to collect memories from everyone on fancy little note cards and we will be presenting them to her in a memory box we are making. After her birthday, she will be able to read through them, over and over again, jogging her memory and bringing a smile to her face, I’m sure.
My sister, Mary Jo, and I have vastly different memories than our other sisters, who came along 10 years later. We remember the “hay-day” of the parties and family gatherings at Grandma’s house. We had lots of cousins and second-cousins and assorted relatives who would congregate at Grandma’s for Christmas. Then one of the neighbors would dress up like Santa and bring all of us packages that had suddenly disappeared from under the tree. And it seemed that every year on Christmas Eve at Grandma’s, the snow would begin falling just before we left to go home.
Memories are important to our family. And collecting these memories for her has been an especially “memorable” time for me and my Aunt Betty, who is planning the party. Reflecting on the many friends Grandma has and the way that they have been close for so many years. One of the cards was signed, “Your friend of 56 years.” What more can you ask at age 90 than to be surrounded by friends and relatives who love you?
For the last few weeks Grandma has been staying in an assisted living home because of weakness in her legs. But after therapy, we hope she will be back to her home before the party. Until she went to there, she has kept a busy schedule every day: shopping and lunch with her friends on Thursdays, breakfast with retired co-workers on Tuesdays, hair appointments, walks in the neighborhood, and visits with her friends. Her life has been a joy to many people both in and out of our family circle.
And she can still recall so many good times, great memories, wonderful stories that we hope will be accumulated to share with the next generations. She is the oldest in our fifth-generation family.
So for the next few days before the party, the memory cards are directed to me and I have the chance to read them first, smile at the memories, try to remember who exactly the person is who sent it, and then place them carefully in her Memory Box. The whole thing has been as enjoyable for me as I hope it is to Grandma.
I am confident that over the next months and years, we will remember her party, the gathering of friends and family and the day that we officially celebrate her long life of 90 years. But here is to hoping we celebrate again in ten more years.
Happy Birthday Grandma!
Our Anniversary
It seems like just last week Rick and I were preparing to celebrate our 35th anniversary, and now another year has come and gone. By the time you read this column Rick and I will be a few days short of 36 years. For me it is very hard to believe. Inside I am still the giddy 17-year old who is wildly in love with her high school sweetheart.
Outside, however, I am a grandmother with two beautiful grandchildren and three adult children. How can this be? In the last year we welcomed another new baby into our family; Mylina and Steve made a move back to Baltimore; Eric and Nyki bought their first home; and Billy and Jill bought a new house as well.
We have watched my mom go through two rounds of chemotherapy for liver cancer and my sister have a very serious back surgery. Rick’s mother had a bad stroke and two other episodes whose cause hasn’t really been determined. We’ve had birthdays, vacations, long work weeks and a full year of holidays to celebrate.
We have documented our lives in photos and scrapbooks and etched special moments in our memories. And here we are, at the threshold of yet another year of marriage.
Just last weekend I spoke to a group of ladies in Richmond, Indiana, about a Joyous Marriage. I received many tips from my readers on what exactly that is and how to achieve it. There were numerous creative ideas, but the one I liked best came from one of the men in our church. He said “The best way to have a happy marriage is with a husband that can’t hear and a wife that can’t speak.”
I would have to say if the husband can’t hear, then the wife can talk all she likes. All kidding aside, a happy marriage is a wonderful thing. I listened to women tell of their unfaithful husbands, or those not committed to their relationship. I marveled at how they could continue to live in such a union. But I am not one to question another’s decisions as to what they want in their life. I can only attest that there is such a thing as a Joyous Marriage, because I live in mine daily.
I know that, God willing, we will have another remarkable year. There will be ups and downs, probably sickness and calamity, chaos and surprises. But around it all will be our undying love. Love for each other, love for God, love for our children, and love for our families. A marriage is never just two people and even at the start, it is the uniting of two families already in tact.
As time passes the blending of lives become so intertwined that it is difficult to sort who are the in-laws and who are the out-laws. We are all just one group of people sharing our lives.
And so another year is met with anticipation and promise. Happy Anniversary, Rick. I love you!
Outside, however, I am a grandmother with two beautiful grandchildren and three adult children. How can this be? In the last year we welcomed another new baby into our family; Mylina and Steve made a move back to Baltimore; Eric and Nyki bought their first home; and Billy and Jill bought a new house as well.
We have watched my mom go through two rounds of chemotherapy for liver cancer and my sister have a very serious back surgery. Rick’s mother had a bad stroke and two other episodes whose cause hasn’t really been determined. We’ve had birthdays, vacations, long work weeks and a full year of holidays to celebrate.
We have documented our lives in photos and scrapbooks and etched special moments in our memories. And here we are, at the threshold of yet another year of marriage.
Just last weekend I spoke to a group of ladies in Richmond, Indiana, about a Joyous Marriage. I received many tips from my readers on what exactly that is and how to achieve it. There were numerous creative ideas, but the one I liked best came from one of the men in our church. He said “The best way to have a happy marriage is with a husband that can’t hear and a wife that can’t speak.”
I would have to say if the husband can’t hear, then the wife can talk all she likes. All kidding aside, a happy marriage is a wonderful thing. I listened to women tell of their unfaithful husbands, or those not committed to their relationship. I marveled at how they could continue to live in such a union. But I am not one to question another’s decisions as to what they want in their life. I can only attest that there is such a thing as a Joyous Marriage, because I live in mine daily.
I know that, God willing, we will have another remarkable year. There will be ups and downs, probably sickness and calamity, chaos and surprises. But around it all will be our undying love. Love for each other, love for God, love for our children, and love for our families. A marriage is never just two people and even at the start, it is the uniting of two families already in tact.
As time passes the blending of lives become so intertwined that it is difficult to sort who are the in-laws and who are the out-laws. We are all just one group of people sharing our lives.
And so another year is met with anticipation and promise. Happy Anniversary, Rick. I love you!
Daddy's Hands
Father’s Day is just a few days away and I heard a song on the radio that reminded me of that fact. The song was “My Daddy’s Hands.” It’s a great country western song which got me thinking (isn’t that what country western songs are supposed to do?), about my father. What is it about him that makes me think happy thoughts?
If I had to pick a certain part of him, it would have to be his smile. He has this great smile that lights up his face and makes everyone around him feel special. In fact, if there is any one thing that I can say about my dad, he has charisma. It radiates from his smile.
It has always been said that my dad doesn’t know a stranger. Once he meets someone they are instantly his friend. I think it is his smile that makes people feel at ease, and especially welcome in his presence. As a child, I watched him interact with all kinds of people and regardless of who they were or what they did, my dad made them feel like they were something exceptional. And that’s how he made me feel, too.
Throughout my childhood, my dad and my grandpa were close to one another. Grandpa had the same looks, but his smile was slower to come and his gruffness often scared away small children and animals. Dad, on the other hand, always tried to win everyone over, much to my mother’s dismay.
At the age of 73 this month, Dad is still going strong. His horse farm keeps him busy and his charisma keeps his friends coming around. When he turned 70 we had a birthday party for him and about 75 people attended. It is his smile that says he cares.
While Dad has worked hard his whole life and his hands are certainly a reflection of that, his eyes twinkle and his back aches, but his smile is never diminished. His character exudes from his smile. Even under dire circumstances, Dad has a quick-witted comment or a joke to tell to make someone else smile or laugh. When going in for open heart surgery a few years ago, he told the doctor to just make sure when he came out that he could still ride his horse. He loves his horses almost as much as he loves his kids.
I could probably tell you lots of tales about how ornery my dad has been over the years, the practical jokes he has played on people, the crazy pranks and childish mistakes he has made, but I could never tell you all of the times that he stopped to help someone along the road, or picked up a stray animal or gave someone money who was having a hard time. And every time he did that, he left them one of his smiles.
I think that was the most important gift he could have given. Happy Father’s Day!
If I had to pick a certain part of him, it would have to be his smile. He has this great smile that lights up his face and makes everyone around him feel special. In fact, if there is any one thing that I can say about my dad, he has charisma. It radiates from his smile.
It has always been said that my dad doesn’t know a stranger. Once he meets someone they are instantly his friend. I think it is his smile that makes people feel at ease, and especially welcome in his presence. As a child, I watched him interact with all kinds of people and regardless of who they were or what they did, my dad made them feel like they were something exceptional. And that’s how he made me feel, too.
Throughout my childhood, my dad and my grandpa were close to one another. Grandpa had the same looks, but his smile was slower to come and his gruffness often scared away small children and animals. Dad, on the other hand, always tried to win everyone over, much to my mother’s dismay.
At the age of 73 this month, Dad is still going strong. His horse farm keeps him busy and his charisma keeps his friends coming around. When he turned 70 we had a birthday party for him and about 75 people attended. It is his smile that says he cares.
While Dad has worked hard his whole life and his hands are certainly a reflection of that, his eyes twinkle and his back aches, but his smile is never diminished. His character exudes from his smile. Even under dire circumstances, Dad has a quick-witted comment or a joke to tell to make someone else smile or laugh. When going in for open heart surgery a few years ago, he told the doctor to just make sure when he came out that he could still ride his horse. He loves his horses almost as much as he loves his kids.
I could probably tell you lots of tales about how ornery my dad has been over the years, the practical jokes he has played on people, the crazy pranks and childish mistakes he has made, but I could never tell you all of the times that he stopped to help someone along the road, or picked up a stray animal or gave someone money who was having a hard time. And every time he did that, he left them one of his smiles.
I think that was the most important gift he could have given. Happy Father’s Day!
Obscurity of Time
The Obscurity of Time
As a master crafter of words, I’m learning that not everything I say is understood in the manner in which it is intended. For example, when I tell someone that I will be there “in a bit” to me that means sometime in the next few hours; to my grandmother, it means she has her shoes and lipstick on and she’s waiting by the door.
When I tell my husband I bought something “a while ago,” I know that time is speculative and even though it was a few hours previous to our conversation, in his mind it could be something that sat in my closet for months.
Although I say something will be done the “first of the week,” to me it means before Friday, but to some people, it means Monday or Tuesday. While giving directions to my artist, I tell her she will have “plenty of time” to do the needed task. In my mind, two hours should be “plenty of time.” Why then do I hear complaints that it takes six hours to do the project and we did not allow the necessary time?
“Later” to me could be from June to December, when later to someone waiting for a delivery could be fifteen minutes from now. “Visiting tonight” means anytime between dinner and bedtime, while to a sick friend it means the courteous time frame between 7 p.m. and 9 p.m.
To a lady-in-waiting, nine months is never enough time to prepare for a baby, but to a school kid, nine months is like an eternity.
I suppose all this obscurity of time is why my children have “suddenly” become adults, and our grandchildren are having birthdays made of years instead of weeks. How could this space of time eluded me? Rick and I are getting older, and although we are still “growing older gracefully,” “like a fine wine” they say, I have no doubt that “sooner or later” we be “aging like moldy cheese,’ and it will stink!
Childhood should be between the ages of newborn to 12, when actually, there are now adult six-year-olds. And then of course, there are 30-year old children. The problem is that time and reality never seem to merge into the same spectrum. This column that I write is due on Tuesday at 4 p.m.; but in my mind, Wednesday at noon is the new Tuesday.
So how does this thing we call time work? I’m certain I can figure it out “in a bit” so I’ll tell you “in a while” that “sooner or later” we hope to know for certain why “time flies” in some cases and in others “time drags.”
In the meantime, don’t “lose track of time” because you will no doubt “waste time” if you do. And remember, “every moment counts.”
As a master crafter of words, I’m learning that not everything I say is understood in the manner in which it is intended. For example, when I tell someone that I will be there “in a bit” to me that means sometime in the next few hours; to my grandmother, it means she has her shoes and lipstick on and she’s waiting by the door.
When I tell my husband I bought something “a while ago,” I know that time is speculative and even though it was a few hours previous to our conversation, in his mind it could be something that sat in my closet for months.
Although I say something will be done the “first of the week,” to me it means before Friday, but to some people, it means Monday or Tuesday. While giving directions to my artist, I tell her she will have “plenty of time” to do the needed task. In my mind, two hours should be “plenty of time.” Why then do I hear complaints that it takes six hours to do the project and we did not allow the necessary time?
“Later” to me could be from June to December, when later to someone waiting for a delivery could be fifteen minutes from now. “Visiting tonight” means anytime between dinner and bedtime, while to a sick friend it means the courteous time frame between 7 p.m. and 9 p.m.
To a lady-in-waiting, nine months is never enough time to prepare for a baby, but to a school kid, nine months is like an eternity.
I suppose all this obscurity of time is why my children have “suddenly” become adults, and our grandchildren are having birthdays made of years instead of weeks. How could this space of time eluded me? Rick and I are getting older, and although we are still “growing older gracefully,” “like a fine wine” they say, I have no doubt that “sooner or later” we be “aging like moldy cheese,’ and it will stink!
Childhood should be between the ages of newborn to 12, when actually, there are now adult six-year-olds. And then of course, there are 30-year old children. The problem is that time and reality never seem to merge into the same spectrum. This column that I write is due on Tuesday at 4 p.m.; but in my mind, Wednesday at noon is the new Tuesday.
So how does this thing we call time work? I’m certain I can figure it out “in a bit” so I’ll tell you “in a while” that “sooner or later” we hope to know for certain why “time flies” in some cases and in others “time drags.”
In the meantime, don’t “lose track of time” because you will no doubt “waste time” if you do. And remember, “every moment counts.”
Some Call It Fate
SOME CALL IT FATE
Our daughter Mylina and her husband Steve live in Baltimore where she sells real estate. In June a new client contacted her, who was relocating from Chicago. She learned that Dr. Gene Khavkin was a neurosurgeon at Johns Hopkins Hospital. Over the course of the next several months, Mylina and Steve met his girlfriend and the four of them became friends. Soon after he arrived at Johns Hopkins, Dr. Gene made medical history by doing a minimally invasive spinal surgery. Typically removing a tumor from the spine requires going in through the side, removing a rib, collapsing a lung and moving the heart in order to remove a tumor. This new way is a much less invasive procedure and one that allows the patient to heal much faster.
In late September we learned that my younger sister Diana, had a tumor on her spine. At first it was diagnosed as possible cancer, but after visiting several doctors and having many tests, it was determined it was a benign bone tumor which had eaten the vertebrae completely. She needed immediate surgery. Living in south Florida she contacted the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville and eventually settled on the University of Miami Hospital. We (the Northern group) were encouraging her to go to Baltimore. She sent her films to Dr. Gene who agreed with the diagnosis and said he schedule her for surgery if she chose to come to Johns Hopkins.
One week before the surgery was scheduled, the Miami surgeon requested a test that four other doctors had advised her not to have done. She had a verbal disagreement with him and after much shouting and crying, called Dr. Gene in Baltimore. Hurricane Wilma was in the ocean off Miami and I was having trouble getting a flight out to Miami, while my mom was having trouble finding a hotel for all of us. Although the trip to Baltimore was a bit more inconvenient, and meaning that the whole family could not travel to be with her, we all agreed that she would be in the best of care if she had the operation in Baltimore.
Last Friday they met with Dr. Gene and his associate who detailed the complexity of the surgery and we learned that they were both the country’s top surgeons in their fields. On Monday Diana checked into Johns Hopkins. On Tuesday she had a procedure done to help seal off the arteries feeding the tumor. On Thursday she had a 10 ½ hour surgery that removed the tumor from the back instead of going in through her side.
The Miami doctor said she would have to be in a body brace for 12 weeks; instead she will be able to walk out of the hospital sometime next week without ever wearing a brace. Her healing time will be much shorter.
Who would have guessed that when Mylina met a new client in Baltimore, his skills would reach across the country to impact a life in South Florida? Some people would call that Fate; we, being in the midst of the storm, call it divine intervention.
Whatever you call it, I sit here, less than 24 hours later and call it a miracle.
Our daughter Mylina and her husband Steve live in Baltimore where she sells real estate. In June a new client contacted her, who was relocating from Chicago. She learned that Dr. Gene Khavkin was a neurosurgeon at Johns Hopkins Hospital. Over the course of the next several months, Mylina and Steve met his girlfriend and the four of them became friends. Soon after he arrived at Johns Hopkins, Dr. Gene made medical history by doing a minimally invasive spinal surgery. Typically removing a tumor from the spine requires going in through the side, removing a rib, collapsing a lung and moving the heart in order to remove a tumor. This new way is a much less invasive procedure and one that allows the patient to heal much faster.
In late September we learned that my younger sister Diana, had a tumor on her spine. At first it was diagnosed as possible cancer, but after visiting several doctors and having many tests, it was determined it was a benign bone tumor which had eaten the vertebrae completely. She needed immediate surgery. Living in south Florida she contacted the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville and eventually settled on the University of Miami Hospital. We (the Northern group) were encouraging her to go to Baltimore. She sent her films to Dr. Gene who agreed with the diagnosis and said he schedule her for surgery if she chose to come to Johns Hopkins.
One week before the surgery was scheduled, the Miami surgeon requested a test that four other doctors had advised her not to have done. She had a verbal disagreement with him and after much shouting and crying, called Dr. Gene in Baltimore. Hurricane Wilma was in the ocean off Miami and I was having trouble getting a flight out to Miami, while my mom was having trouble finding a hotel for all of us. Although the trip to Baltimore was a bit more inconvenient, and meaning that the whole family could not travel to be with her, we all agreed that she would be in the best of care if she had the operation in Baltimore.
Last Friday they met with Dr. Gene and his associate who detailed the complexity of the surgery and we learned that they were both the country’s top surgeons in their fields. On Monday Diana checked into Johns Hopkins. On Tuesday she had a procedure done to help seal off the arteries feeding the tumor. On Thursday she had a 10 ½ hour surgery that removed the tumor from the back instead of going in through her side.
The Miami doctor said she would have to be in a body brace for 12 weeks; instead she will be able to walk out of the hospital sometime next week without ever wearing a brace. Her healing time will be much shorter.
Who would have guessed that when Mylina met a new client in Baltimore, his skills would reach across the country to impact a life in South Florida? Some people would call that Fate; we, being in the midst of the storm, call it divine intervention.
Whatever you call it, I sit here, less than 24 hours later and call it a miracle.
Houseboat Vacation
By the time you read this article, our house boating trip will be over for the summer. The much anticipated, and even more needed, trip will be history. Tonight, doing my article in advance of the Friday deadline, we have the car packed, the last load of laundry in the dryer and our shoes by the front door. And yet I know that as surely as I sit here impatiently waiting our departure time, some 7 hours from now, the week will whiz past us in a blur.
I am thankful this year that we will hear the sounds of a new baby; we will see the loving touches of newlyweds; and we will enjoy the stories of my grandmother who is accompanying us again. There is something magical about family vacations.
We have the Scrabble board tucked carefully in the van, along with dominoes, movies, and decks of cards. The sunscreen and sunburn lotion are on hand, along with the first aid kit, Tums, and numerous cans of Diet Coke.
The first year we went to Dale Hollow, Eric (our youngest) was five months old. He is now 25 with a wife. We have gone to the lake every year with the exception of two years when other major events prohibited the trip. This is our time to rest, relax and enjoy one another’s company.
In thinking back over the last years, we always have to tell our funny tales of things that happened. Although the lake is known as a great place to fish, we have never caught a single fish there, not even a crappie. We have, however, caught a giant turtle, lots of bats, and thousands of bugs that we attract to our porch light.
It has rarely rained on our trips to the lake, only two or three times in all the years we’ve gone. The first year we went, as novice house boaters, we tied the boat sideways on the shore in anticipation of the storm. With heavy winds the boat rocked back and forth and beat up against the edge while the kids, all small, cried in fear. But we got through it with no problems.
On other years we pulled a johnboat behind us that was furnished by the dock. Watching the boat was always a job for the kids, making sure it didn’t get loose. But alas! It generally did get loose. To the ranting of their father, the kids would run to the top of the house boat and watch intently for the tiny boat to appear bouncing up and down in the waves or smashed against the shoreline waiting our return. We always found it unscathed.
The lake holds lots of family heirlooms from our family and I’m sure countless others. Sunglasses, shoes, towels, books, swimsuits, towels, floats, sweaters, towels, glasses, game pieces and did I say towels? I think we’ve lost 25 or 30 at least in the lake. It’s is wonder they haven’t absorbed all the lake water!
The one thing the lake gives us back each year is a sense of how much our family means to us. Our kids have grown up on the water and now our oldest is bringing their own child back again. She is three months old. I hope and pray that this is the beginning of a new and wonderful chapter in our lives. The extra bassinette, scores of baby things and bottles in the fridge is a reminder, and a memory jogger, that live goes on.
Let’s just hope that for the next week, it slows down just a bit so we can all enjoy each memory we gather.
I am thankful this year that we will hear the sounds of a new baby; we will see the loving touches of newlyweds; and we will enjoy the stories of my grandmother who is accompanying us again. There is something magical about family vacations.
We have the Scrabble board tucked carefully in the van, along with dominoes, movies, and decks of cards. The sunscreen and sunburn lotion are on hand, along with the first aid kit, Tums, and numerous cans of Diet Coke.
The first year we went to Dale Hollow, Eric (our youngest) was five months old. He is now 25 with a wife. We have gone to the lake every year with the exception of two years when other major events prohibited the trip. This is our time to rest, relax and enjoy one another’s company.
In thinking back over the last years, we always have to tell our funny tales of things that happened. Although the lake is known as a great place to fish, we have never caught a single fish there, not even a crappie. We have, however, caught a giant turtle, lots of bats, and thousands of bugs that we attract to our porch light.
It has rarely rained on our trips to the lake, only two or three times in all the years we’ve gone. The first year we went, as novice house boaters, we tied the boat sideways on the shore in anticipation of the storm. With heavy winds the boat rocked back and forth and beat up against the edge while the kids, all small, cried in fear. But we got through it with no problems.
On other years we pulled a johnboat behind us that was furnished by the dock. Watching the boat was always a job for the kids, making sure it didn’t get loose. But alas! It generally did get loose. To the ranting of their father, the kids would run to the top of the house boat and watch intently for the tiny boat to appear bouncing up and down in the waves or smashed against the shoreline waiting our return. We always found it unscathed.
The lake holds lots of family heirlooms from our family and I’m sure countless others. Sunglasses, shoes, towels, books, swimsuits, towels, floats, sweaters, towels, glasses, game pieces and did I say towels? I think we’ve lost 25 or 30 at least in the lake. It’s is wonder they haven’t absorbed all the lake water!
The one thing the lake gives us back each year is a sense of how much our family means to us. Our kids have grown up on the water and now our oldest is bringing their own child back again. She is three months old. I hope and pray that this is the beginning of a new and wonderful chapter in our lives. The extra bassinette, scores of baby things and bottles in the fridge is a reminder, and a memory jogger, that live goes on.
Let’s just hope that for the next week, it slows down just a bit so we can all enjoy each memory we gather.
Home is Where...
Home is where…..
To each of us out there, I am sure that half-sentence has a different meaning. I saw a banner that said, “Home is where your momma lives.” While I have to admit, I love that line, I can’t actually agree with it. To me, where I live is my home. Where I am most comfortable; where I can take off my shoes and relax; where I can sleep soundly in my own bed and take a shower in my shower. It’s where my kids and grandkids come, but I hope that they don’t feel it is their home, as I want them to have the same wonderful feelings I do about my own home.
My mother is leaving at the end of the month to go back to Florida for the winter. I keep adding that, “for the winter” in hopes she will return in the spring to lovely Ohio so we can once again enjoy her company. But while in Florida, she is staying with my two sisters, alternately. She wants to get a home of her own again, since she sold her condo when she got cancer two and a half years ago. To her, home is where she hangs her pictures on the wall. The place she can decorate and not care if anyone else likes the look or not. Home is where she can invite others and enjoy their company without feeling like she is the guest.
Rick’s mother went back to her home a few weeks ago and we moved her bed and furnishings back to her place. She longed for her own home again; the place where she can turn the thermostat up to 80 degrees and no one sweats. Home is where she can cook whatever she wants and change the channel as often as she likes instead of competing with Rick for the remote control. Home is where she can watch whatever she likes on television at whatever time of the day or night she decides to get up.
When Sierra and Parker come to visit, they seldom ask for us to take them home, but when we do, they see their home and get giggly. They recognize it is the place where their mom and dad live and their toys are allowed to be out all over the living room. It is where their dog enjoys waiting for crumbs to drop and accidental spills to reach his tongue. It is home. Even at 2 and 3 years old, they realize their home is where they love most of all.
We attended a funeral a couple of weeks ago and the pastor said our friend had a sign in her kitchen which said, “My home might be small, but God knows where I live.” How wonderful and appropriate! Regardless of the size or condition of our homes, it doesn’t matter when it is filled with the things that bring us joy: family, friends, love and laughter. The building is just a place to keep the rain off our heads. It is the content of that structure that makes it a home.
Whatever or wherever your home may be, regardless of the size, condition, color or building material, my wish for you is that your home is where you want to be when you are ready to go there.
Home: Where love lives.
To each of us out there, I am sure that half-sentence has a different meaning. I saw a banner that said, “Home is where your momma lives.” While I have to admit, I love that line, I can’t actually agree with it. To me, where I live is my home. Where I am most comfortable; where I can take off my shoes and relax; where I can sleep soundly in my own bed and take a shower in my shower. It’s where my kids and grandkids come, but I hope that they don’t feel it is their home, as I want them to have the same wonderful feelings I do about my own home.
My mother is leaving at the end of the month to go back to Florida for the winter. I keep adding that, “for the winter” in hopes she will return in the spring to lovely Ohio so we can once again enjoy her company. But while in Florida, she is staying with my two sisters, alternately. She wants to get a home of her own again, since she sold her condo when she got cancer two and a half years ago. To her, home is where she hangs her pictures on the wall. The place she can decorate and not care if anyone else likes the look or not. Home is where she can invite others and enjoy their company without feeling like she is the guest.
Rick’s mother went back to her home a few weeks ago and we moved her bed and furnishings back to her place. She longed for her own home again; the place where she can turn the thermostat up to 80 degrees and no one sweats. Home is where she can cook whatever she wants and change the channel as often as she likes instead of competing with Rick for the remote control. Home is where she can watch whatever she likes on television at whatever time of the day or night she decides to get up.
When Sierra and Parker come to visit, they seldom ask for us to take them home, but when we do, they see their home and get giggly. They recognize it is the place where their mom and dad live and their toys are allowed to be out all over the living room. It is where their dog enjoys waiting for crumbs to drop and accidental spills to reach his tongue. It is home. Even at 2 and 3 years old, they realize their home is where they love most of all.
We attended a funeral a couple of weeks ago and the pastor said our friend had a sign in her kitchen which said, “My home might be small, but God knows where I live.” How wonderful and appropriate! Regardless of the size or condition of our homes, it doesn’t matter when it is filled with the things that bring us joy: family, friends, love and laughter. The building is just a place to keep the rain off our heads. It is the content of that structure that makes it a home.
Whatever or wherever your home may be, regardless of the size, condition, color or building material, my wish for you is that your home is where you want to be when you are ready to go there.
Home: Where love lives.
Parker Wilson
Nine months passes quickly to most people. But just announce that a baby will be born and the time begins to drag. On Wednesday, August 17, Parker Wilson Stirnkorb entered the world weighing six pounds and 13 ounces. He measures 20 inches long. He is our first grandson and little brother to fifteen-month old Sierra.
The miracle of birth is never taken for granted on the 9th floor of Good Sam hospital. I heard exclamations up and down the hallway of excitement and awe. Maybe we should say “shock and awe,” but I think the shock factor doesn’t really kick in until about the 10th day.
Rick and I were there to take pictures and record all the special firsts; first bath, first time Grandparents Rossbach each held him, first time each of us held him, first family picture. Born to our oldest son Billy and his wife Jill, they are saying their family is complete, but sometimes God has other plans. For now, they are content with a beautiful daughter and handsome newborn son to act as playmates for one another and to Tucker, their beloved Golden Retriever.
Billy remarked more than once, “One minute we have one child and then suddenly, there is another. It’s crazy!” Jill was just happy to have him in her arms instead of in her tummy.
And as miracles go, 1100 miles away, my baby brother Billy’s wife, Teresa, gave birth to a little boy seven hours earlier, at 4:30 in the morning. They also had a baby boy, weighing 6 pounds and 13 ounces. He measured 19 inches long. Clark Daniel Wilson is their first child. They will share birthdays, although miles apart. I became an aunt (not the first time) and a grandmother, on the same day.
As for Jill’s side of the family, it is the first male child to be born in 34 years. I suppose he will be a little Prince to all of us, but especially to them.
For the last couple of months I’ve been taking Wednesday afternoons off to have a play day with Sierra. I treasure the time with her as I watch her grow and her little personality develop. In the last 15 months, she has gone from a tiny infant to a frolicking toddler, exploring everything around her. These months have flown by.
I remarked to my aunt what a good baby Sierra is and what a joy to have around. She said, “And why shouldn’t she be good? She is surrounded by people who love her.”
Yes she is, and she will enjoy the love of many people throughout her life. That’s what is called a family.
I know that it will seem like only a blink before Parker is also running around on his own. If only we could slow down time after the baby is born the way it drags before the birth. But everything happens so fast! First they start to coo, then to laugh, then they roll over, sit up, crawl, stand, walk and they are out the door and on their own. Life happens -- and it happens in a flash.
I guess we are just blessed to be able to be a part of each of these little lives.
The miracle of birth is never taken for granted on the 9th floor of Good Sam hospital. I heard exclamations up and down the hallway of excitement and awe. Maybe we should say “shock and awe,” but I think the shock factor doesn’t really kick in until about the 10th day.
Rick and I were there to take pictures and record all the special firsts; first bath, first time Grandparents Rossbach each held him, first time each of us held him, first family picture. Born to our oldest son Billy and his wife Jill, they are saying their family is complete, but sometimes God has other plans. For now, they are content with a beautiful daughter and handsome newborn son to act as playmates for one another and to Tucker, their beloved Golden Retriever.
Billy remarked more than once, “One minute we have one child and then suddenly, there is another. It’s crazy!” Jill was just happy to have him in her arms instead of in her tummy.
And as miracles go, 1100 miles away, my baby brother Billy’s wife, Teresa, gave birth to a little boy seven hours earlier, at 4:30 in the morning. They also had a baby boy, weighing 6 pounds and 13 ounces. He measured 19 inches long. Clark Daniel Wilson is their first child. They will share birthdays, although miles apart. I became an aunt (not the first time) and a grandmother, on the same day.
As for Jill’s side of the family, it is the first male child to be born in 34 years. I suppose he will be a little Prince to all of us, but especially to them.
For the last couple of months I’ve been taking Wednesday afternoons off to have a play day with Sierra. I treasure the time with her as I watch her grow and her little personality develop. In the last 15 months, she has gone from a tiny infant to a frolicking toddler, exploring everything around her. These months have flown by.
I remarked to my aunt what a good baby Sierra is and what a joy to have around. She said, “And why shouldn’t she be good? She is surrounded by people who love her.”
Yes she is, and she will enjoy the love of many people throughout her life. That’s what is called a family.
I know that it will seem like only a blink before Parker is also running around on his own. If only we could slow down time after the baby is born the way it drags before the birth. But everything happens so fast! First they start to coo, then to laugh, then they roll over, sit up, crawl, stand, walk and they are out the door and on their own. Life happens -- and it happens in a flash.
I guess we are just blessed to be able to be a part of each of these little lives.
Sierra Lauren
Not too long after finishing last week’s column we received the call that the doctor was sending Jill and Billy to the hospital to get our little granddaughter. Shortly after 2 p.m., Sierra Lauren entered the world with a shout and a smile for her parents.
The bright-eyed bundle of joy weighed in at six pounds, three ounces, 20 inches long and just enough fine, brown hair to cover her tiny head.
Now I know that most grandparents go senile about the time the first grandchild arrives, but Rick and I have vowed not to let that happen. How can one tiny baby turn a seemingly normal, mature couple upside down in a matter of days? I really doubt that our lives change much at all.
It is true that we have waited impatiently for her to get here, as has been attested by my columns on more than one occasion. But really, she is just a baby.
Shortly after she was born the nurses allowed us to see her. She was less than one hour old as we photographed her for the first time. She actually smiled in one of the pictures. I strolled down the hall way with two cameras around my neck and a huge tote bag of anything I could think of that Jill or Billy might need. One of the nurses commented that I looked like a tourist—or a new grandmother.
We took pictures of her with her parents, her other grandparents, with us. We photographed her getting her first bath.
It is amazing how smart she is already. One of our friends said that intelligence skips a generation; since Rick and I are of above average intelligence it is only normal that Sierra will be also.
I was holding her the day after she was born and she was already recognizing voices and her name. I know they say babies can’t focus their eyes at that age, but it is obvious that Sierra can. She also knows her name. She smiles, even in her sleep, when she hears me coo it to her as I kiss her tiny face. Several of the nurses commented that she was perhaps the most beautiful baby they had ever seen.
We have already purchased an extra bassinette, changing table and high chair to keep at our house when she visits, so we can take those things along on trips. I’m thinking of getting another car seat so we won’t have to take the one in and out of the car.
For the last few weeks, I’ve been trying to figure out how I can work my other full time job from Sierra’s house…I think her parents may need a Nanny and who could be better than a blood relative? Like perhaps, a grandmother?
Rick has been thinking the same thing, I think. I heard him talking to one of the guys at work about taking early retirement, but he has 15 years before he can collect Social Security. Too bad for him. I can make money writing and staying at Billy and Jill’s during the day. He can’t. Oh well, I can document everything she does on the digital camera. So far we have 186 pictures in the Sierra Lauren album.
And so you see, life is really pretty normal at our house. By the time you read this column, she will be nearly two weeks old and I’m sure, the smartest and most beautiful baby in town.
Life is good.
The bright-eyed bundle of joy weighed in at six pounds, three ounces, 20 inches long and just enough fine, brown hair to cover her tiny head.
Now I know that most grandparents go senile about the time the first grandchild arrives, but Rick and I have vowed not to let that happen. How can one tiny baby turn a seemingly normal, mature couple upside down in a matter of days? I really doubt that our lives change much at all.
It is true that we have waited impatiently for her to get here, as has been attested by my columns on more than one occasion. But really, she is just a baby.
Shortly after she was born the nurses allowed us to see her. She was less than one hour old as we photographed her for the first time. She actually smiled in one of the pictures. I strolled down the hall way with two cameras around my neck and a huge tote bag of anything I could think of that Jill or Billy might need. One of the nurses commented that I looked like a tourist—or a new grandmother.
We took pictures of her with her parents, her other grandparents, with us. We photographed her getting her first bath.
It is amazing how smart she is already. One of our friends said that intelligence skips a generation; since Rick and I are of above average intelligence it is only normal that Sierra will be also.
I was holding her the day after she was born and she was already recognizing voices and her name. I know they say babies can’t focus their eyes at that age, but it is obvious that Sierra can. She also knows her name. She smiles, even in her sleep, when she hears me coo it to her as I kiss her tiny face. Several of the nurses commented that she was perhaps the most beautiful baby they had ever seen.
We have already purchased an extra bassinette, changing table and high chair to keep at our house when she visits, so we can take those things along on trips. I’m thinking of getting another car seat so we won’t have to take the one in and out of the car.
For the last few weeks, I’ve been trying to figure out how I can work my other full time job from Sierra’s house…I think her parents may need a Nanny and who could be better than a blood relative? Like perhaps, a grandmother?
Rick has been thinking the same thing, I think. I heard him talking to one of the guys at work about taking early retirement, but he has 15 years before he can collect Social Security. Too bad for him. I can make money writing and staying at Billy and Jill’s during the day. He can’t. Oh well, I can document everything she does on the digital camera. So far we have 186 pictures in the Sierra Lauren album.
And so you see, life is really pretty normal at our house. By the time you read this column, she will be nearly two weeks old and I’m sure, the smartest and most beautiful baby in town.
Life is good.
Emery Grace
Column 6-19-2008
Emery Grace Stirnkorb arrived two weeks early, allowing our youngest son, Eric and wife Nyki to celebrate their first Father’s Day on Sunday.
Weighing in at a mere 6 pounds and 8 ounces, she is 19 inches long with dark hair and navy blue eyes. Her tiny features are almost doll-like except for the classic-Stirnkorb, long fingers and toes. This is the third grandchild for Rick and me, but the first one on Nyki’s side of the family. Let the spoiling begin!
On the bottom of the country, my Dad will turn 75 in a couple of days and Emery makes his seventh great-grand child. Number six, Sara was born just two weeks ago, a product of my nephew, Chris and wife Erika. Chris is in the Navy.
Isn’t it funny how life keeps us moving on? Dad said he can’t believe he will be 75, and neither can I! He is still riding his horses in south Florida and complaining about the heat. His mother, my grandmother, will soon be 92 and she is also still active.
I saw a wonderful sign last week which said, “Time flies, whether you are having fun or not.” So I suppose we might as well enjoy every day we have on this beautiful green earth of ours. Although our days are numbered, our laughter and enjoyment can be continual and non-stop. It is all a matter of how we choose to live.
I am confident that Emery Grace will thrive in a house full of love and care. Her parents were anxious to have her and she is already surrounded by people who adore her. She is also fortunate to have lots of grandparents, great-grandparents, and even great-great grandparents on both sides of the family. Grandparents are the best and I firmly believe every child needs a few.
Sierra and Parker, Emery’s cousins, have a controlled curiosity for the new baby. With four or five minute attention spans, they are quickly tired of this new person who does little else but sleep and eat. Their time for play is coming. Eric, on the other hand, asked me if there was ever anything that, just by looking at it, made me smile. He said that is the reaction he gets when he sees his beautiful new baby.
For Emery, I wish her good health and happiness, but most of all, I hope she is loved beyond measure all her days. When Sierra was born, I was bragging to my Aunt about how she was such a wonderful, well-behaved, good-sleeping, eating and playing baby. She replied, “And why wouldn’t she be, she is very well loved.”
It does all come back to that, doesn’t it? Love really is what sends our worlds into motion, makes our hearts go pitty-pat and makes our toes curl. It is the essence of what we all crave in our daily lives and the real “stuff” of which our lives are made. Without it, well, I can’t even imagine my life without the love I have in it.
Welcome to the family, Emery. And to all you new grandparents, I can only tell you with reasonable accuracy, you are in the for joy of your lives!
Emery Grace Stirnkorb arrived two weeks early, allowing our youngest son, Eric and wife Nyki to celebrate their first Father’s Day on Sunday.
Weighing in at a mere 6 pounds and 8 ounces, she is 19 inches long with dark hair and navy blue eyes. Her tiny features are almost doll-like except for the classic-Stirnkorb, long fingers and toes. This is the third grandchild for Rick and me, but the first one on Nyki’s side of the family. Let the spoiling begin!
On the bottom of the country, my Dad will turn 75 in a couple of days and Emery makes his seventh great-grand child. Number six, Sara was born just two weeks ago, a product of my nephew, Chris and wife Erika. Chris is in the Navy.
Isn’t it funny how life keeps us moving on? Dad said he can’t believe he will be 75, and neither can I! He is still riding his horses in south Florida and complaining about the heat. His mother, my grandmother, will soon be 92 and she is also still active.
I saw a wonderful sign last week which said, “Time flies, whether you are having fun or not.” So I suppose we might as well enjoy every day we have on this beautiful green earth of ours. Although our days are numbered, our laughter and enjoyment can be continual and non-stop. It is all a matter of how we choose to live.
I am confident that Emery Grace will thrive in a house full of love and care. Her parents were anxious to have her and she is already surrounded by people who adore her. She is also fortunate to have lots of grandparents, great-grandparents, and even great-great grandparents on both sides of the family. Grandparents are the best and I firmly believe every child needs a few.
Sierra and Parker, Emery’s cousins, have a controlled curiosity for the new baby. With four or five minute attention spans, they are quickly tired of this new person who does little else but sleep and eat. Their time for play is coming. Eric, on the other hand, asked me if there was ever anything that, just by looking at it, made me smile. He said that is the reaction he gets when he sees his beautiful new baby.
For Emery, I wish her good health and happiness, but most of all, I hope she is loved beyond measure all her days. When Sierra was born, I was bragging to my Aunt about how she was such a wonderful, well-behaved, good-sleeping, eating and playing baby. She replied, “And why wouldn’t she be, she is very well loved.”
It does all come back to that, doesn’t it? Love really is what sends our worlds into motion, makes our hearts go pitty-pat and makes our toes curl. It is the essence of what we all crave in our daily lives and the real “stuff” of which our lives are made. Without it, well, I can’t even imagine my life without the love I have in it.
Welcome to the family, Emery. And to all you new grandparents, I can only tell you with reasonable accuracy, you are in the for joy of your lives!
A Lesson in Mortality 101
A Lesson in Mortality 101
A few weeks ago my mom was diagnosed with liver cancer. This week we learned that it had progressed past the point of surgery. Although there are some other treatments available, surgery would have been the best course of action. In talking to my mom after the surgeons made the final decision, I was amazed at her wisdom and grace on the entire process.
While she could have been angry with the doctor who missed the diagnosis for approximately two years, instead she said she feels blessed to know that she has lived the past two years without any symptoms.
Instead of being upset that the surgeons can’t do the surgery, she has determined that she won’t have to go through the time in the hospital away from her family for an operation that has a small chance of being successful.
Rather than questioning why this has happened to her, she has decided that it is exactly what was supposed to happen to her: “After all,” she said, “Our days are numbered while we are yet in our mother’s womb.”
After overcoming colon cancer 11 years ago, (which the doctors agree was the source of this cancer), she does not question why the doctors then did not recommend radiation or other treatment. Instead she said the last 11 years are a gift from God.
One of the greatest joys, and in fact one of the main reasons, that Christians dedicate their lives to Christ, is for the eternal life that follows this one. My mother has a great amount of faith. She said it will be hard to leave all of us behind, but she can’t wait to see her mom and dad. She believes she will go to sleep in this world and wake up in one that is far greater than anything we can imagine.
Mom’s faith is strong, and her four daughters, of whom I am the second in age rankings, are consistent. But I can assure you we are not anxious for the reunion she will experience on the other side. I know that death is part of living and we must all face it, but it is never at a time when we are ready to let go.
I think back to the conversation of a friend of mine who was sitting with his friend, knowing that his days were nearing an end. He asked his friend, “How does it feel to know that you are going to die?” to which his friend replied, “How does it feel to pretend you are not?”
That pretty much sums up the course of all our lives. We live here, we enjoy everyday as it is given to us, we make the most of the situations, strive to be the best that we can possibly be, and focus our love on our families and our God in hopes that all of the effort we put forth will be for a reason far greater than we can imagine in our next life.
Faith, grace, hope, wisdom and comfort are the things I will be relying on over the next months. Because Mom is quite acceptant of her fate, we must be also and rejoice in the fact that she will never be “lost” to us. I will never have to tell anyone “I lost my mother.” We know exactly where she will be.
A few weeks ago my mom was diagnosed with liver cancer. This week we learned that it had progressed past the point of surgery. Although there are some other treatments available, surgery would have been the best course of action. In talking to my mom after the surgeons made the final decision, I was amazed at her wisdom and grace on the entire process.
While she could have been angry with the doctor who missed the diagnosis for approximately two years, instead she said she feels blessed to know that she has lived the past two years without any symptoms.
Instead of being upset that the surgeons can’t do the surgery, she has determined that she won’t have to go through the time in the hospital away from her family for an operation that has a small chance of being successful.
Rather than questioning why this has happened to her, she has decided that it is exactly what was supposed to happen to her: “After all,” she said, “Our days are numbered while we are yet in our mother’s womb.”
After overcoming colon cancer 11 years ago, (which the doctors agree was the source of this cancer), she does not question why the doctors then did not recommend radiation or other treatment. Instead she said the last 11 years are a gift from God.
One of the greatest joys, and in fact one of the main reasons, that Christians dedicate their lives to Christ, is for the eternal life that follows this one. My mother has a great amount of faith. She said it will be hard to leave all of us behind, but she can’t wait to see her mom and dad. She believes she will go to sleep in this world and wake up in one that is far greater than anything we can imagine.
Mom’s faith is strong, and her four daughters, of whom I am the second in age rankings, are consistent. But I can assure you we are not anxious for the reunion she will experience on the other side. I know that death is part of living and we must all face it, but it is never at a time when we are ready to let go.
I think back to the conversation of a friend of mine who was sitting with his friend, knowing that his days were nearing an end. He asked his friend, “How does it feel to know that you are going to die?” to which his friend replied, “How does it feel to pretend you are not?”
That pretty much sums up the course of all our lives. We live here, we enjoy everyday as it is given to us, we make the most of the situations, strive to be the best that we can possibly be, and focus our love on our families and our God in hopes that all of the effort we put forth will be for a reason far greater than we can imagine in our next life.
Faith, grace, hope, wisdom and comfort are the things I will be relying on over the next months. Because Mom is quite acceptant of her fate, we must be also and rejoice in the fact that she will never be “lost” to us. I will never have to tell anyone “I lost my mother.” We know exactly where she will be.
A New Adventure
Wow! How exciting is this! Since I no longer have a column, I miss sharing my life, thoughts, ideas and opinions with everyone. Now I can do it again! I hope to post at least once a week a new "column" for your enjoyment.
I have also archived some of my most requested columns for re-reading.
It's crazy that I can just go-on line and immediately send out my thoughts. I read a long time ago that being a writer is like publishing your "guts" for the world to see. Maybe so...but this feels pretty good.
Please share my new blog site with your friends (or enemies as the case may be...)
PatsBlogtoYou.
Until next time--
Pat
I have also archived some of my most requested columns for re-reading.
It's crazy that I can just go-on line and immediately send out my thoughts. I read a long time ago that being a writer is like publishing your "guts" for the world to see. Maybe so...but this feels pretty good.
Please share my new blog site with your friends (or enemies as the case may be...)
PatsBlogtoYou.
Until next time--
Pat
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