It was dark and cold as I backed our minivan out of the garage at 6:00 Friday morning. I was headed to our DC family for the day, and the drive stretched ahead of me with two hours of solitude and the hope of some good music.
The moon hung full and bright in the western sky. It was a comforting reminder that some things never change. I reached for my car charger before turning on my music and realized that the two cords present were both for Daniel’s phone. I know my phone well enough to know that it would not handle running the GPS as well as playing my playlist before going dead – likely in the muddled streets of Washington, DC, leaving me in need of rescue. Oh, well. I decided it was going to be okay.
There were some appropriate songs that I could sing to encourage me on my way, there was no one to hear me, and it was just me and Jesus in that car. The miles rolled away, and in my rearview mirror the sun started to come up. The stark contrast between the moon in the darkened sky ahead of me and the breaking morn in the sky behind me was beautiful, and the colors of the sunrise gave the promise of a clear day.
I could not have asked for better traveling conditions that morning. The roads were clear, the traffic cooperative, and the sun was to my back. I came to Lem and Jessica’s house and pulled into the open space from the alley behind their house. I often come to DC loaded for a several day stay, but this was only for the day, so I could take it all in one trip, my trusty blue cooler on wheels trailing along behind me up the sidewalk to their house.
Stella met me at the door, wearing the Christmas pajamas her Auntie Chris had gotten for Yutzy Christmas. Oh, my heart! She has grown so much. She was incredibly happy, digging through a big bag of Valentine’s Day surprises from her Daddy and Mama. Our daughter in law, Jessica was there, finishing up her boring breakfast of the one of the few things her tummy is tolerating, oatmeal. Lem left shortly before I got there to do a presentation at a local school for parents and students. Jessica was trying to get her food down, and then she was hoping to work as much as possible.
Stella and I were looking forward to a great time together, and the day did not disappoint. We played Fish, and she solidly trounced me four out of five games (I managed to tie her on the last one, but it did little to reassure me that I’m not coming down with some disease of magnitude in the dementia realms). We did a simple craft in the afternoon and made some valentines for her family. We ate the soup that Grammy brought and some of Grammy’s bread, and interspersed through the day were intervals of interaction with her beloved Daddy and Mama. Out of 10, the day was a 10, and I was so grateful.
The evening got furhuddled and delayed because of a mixup in food delivery, and my intended 7:00 departure got pushed off until around 8:40, but I felt strangely at peace about everything. I have family members who cannot understand this, but I’ve lived long enough to decide that there are certain things that are out of my control and I might just as well not waste emotional energy on things I cannot control. I believe that my times, and especially the interruptions and delays are under the control of My Heavenly Father and He said He will work things out for my good if I set my affections on His Kingdom, and trust Him with the outcomes. So even though I got off later than I had planned, the ride home was uneventful (except that I realized just before the Bay Bridge that I wasn’t going to make it home unless I stopped and got some gas) and I listened to a Bible reading program that I’ve been enjoying since the first of the year. Once again, traffic was light, roads were clear and that moon? Well, it was a “Ghostly Galleon, tossed upon cloudy seas . . .” (from The Highwayman” by Alfred Noyles), and I remembered that Daniel had said that it was to be stormy on Saturday. But for the ride home, there was no rain, no tempest, just a pull towards a little farm called Shady Acres and the Man That I Love Best.
I pulled into the familiar driveway around 10:40, and came into the house, tugging my now empty cooler behind me. The sight that greeted me first was a bouquet of red, pink and white carnations, sitting squarely in the middle of the counter!
It was absolutely stunning and I caught my breath at its beauty. I was pretty sure that he was going to get me the traditional Valentines Day bouquet, but it got me to thinking about these 51+ years that we’ve been married. It’s interesting to me how things change with the years, how love begins to be something intrinsically different that what brought us together all those years ago. I’ve heard it said so often how in those early years there is youth and energy and passion and a hope for the future that drives so much of what we do. And then in the middle years it’s “Love is more than feelings. It’s fixing bikes and painting ceilings.” Now we no longer can even pretend that we are in the middle years. These two 71 year old people find that love is the quiet companionship of an evening at home in our chairs. It’s getting a sub to share at home instead of looking for a fancy dinner out to celebrate. It’s trying to figure out how to deal with the bumps in the road that growing older has brought, and it’s knowing, without speaking a word when the other is in pain. It’s wishing we could fix the things that are different and “wrong” that remind us of our mortality in ways we’ve never had to think about before. And it’s the wonderful feeling of being home safe and sound and together after one or the other is away.
I don’t know about your worlds, dear friends. But there has been a significant amount of heartache and joy running straight parallel in our lives the last five years. It’s easy to focus on the heartache, and I’m not suggesting we ignore it. I am suggesting that it has been helpful to me to recount the blessings that we’ve been given, and to think on the things listed in Phillipians 4:8: “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”
In our perilous times, when we are drawn into much that is none of the above, could we as the followers of Jesus seek to align our thinking with that sort of a list? I certainly want to try.
Also, I’ve never been a person that picks a word for the year, but as this year has progressed along, I have chosen a word that I want to live by. That word is “Hope.” It feels like a lot of us are mighty short on hope. I cannot change the world, but I want to be a catalyst in my corner for good, and I need hope to do that.
May you be blessed in your world.
Delaware Grammy 