Category Archives: home living

Of sons and cold and long ago days

This was written in January, 2008.  I was reading it this morning and thinking about my sons — and how neither of them are working in the cold at this point, and how life changes so much.  The years have a way of marching on, and it seems like decades since our lives were like this.  I was going to say that the one thing that never changes is the love that we have for our children.  But that isn’t true.  It is true that we always love them, but how we love them changes almost as much as everything else.  I love our sons — I always will.  And I still pray for them.  But the days of sprinkling love over the lunch sandwiches are long, long gone.  🙂

Today was one of those Delaware days.
The temperature is low.
There is a mean wind blowing.

I make swiss cheese and ham sandwiches in the early morning light.
I think about the men my sons have become.
Heading out into the extreme cold.  Learning hard life lessons.
Construction work in Delaware is not for softies.

Through the day, their job comes to mind over and over again.
When I step out of the warmth of the car to the doctors office with my Nettie-Girl.
When I come back out and the force of the wind hits me square
And seems to go right through me. 

I pull my flapping jacket closer around me, and find there is no real warmth
Against this biting, cutting wind.
I pray the Lord to make them strong.  And cautious.  And wise.  And full of optimism.
I pray the Lord to provide respite from the wind.
I pray against bitterness, discouragement and despair.

They tumbled in tonight.  The coffee was on.
“J’amaican Me Crazy”  blend from Dolce’s swirled its comforting smell out to the back door.
Pork Barbecue was in the oven.  Martin Potato Rolls on the cupboard.
They started to “unpeel” and I had to laugh.
Plastic Wal-mart bags around shoes inside boots.
Work pants came off.  Then sweat pants.  Then work shorts. Then there were flannel pajama bottoms.
(Whatever happened to long underwear???)
I see Youngest Son curling up beside the burning flame of the pellet stove.
Oldest Son tending to the “foreman” responsibilities of truck and fellow employees before allowing himself the luxury of warm house and lounging clothes.

Tonight they soak up the warmth and the fire and the comfort of home.
Tomorrow is to be even colder.  And tomorrow they go back out to the job.
It no longer is my responsibility to keep them warm and safe.
I will always be glad when they come home for warmth and food and comfort and encouragement.
But tonight, I know those days are seriously numbered.
And that is okay.  It is the way of Men.
And they are men.  They don’t even love me best of all anymore.

And so, I pack the lunches with a prayer.
I remember the days when I would take my hand and pretend to sprinkle “love” into their food.
It made them laugh.
They are way too big for that trick now.
What they don’t know is that, even though my hand is still,
My heart is sprinkling love all over those Swiss cheese and ham sandwiches.

And I will always love them.

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Filed under home living, Stories from the Household of CM & CMW

Amazon Packages

I love getting packages in the mail.  I am continually astonished at ordering something on a Wednesday night and it appears in my mail box two days later, with no shipping charges!  Amazon Prime Rocks!  And since Amazon Prime allows auxiliary members, we have our children on our membership.

Saturday, I went to the mailbox and found this box from Amazon.  Okay.  I wondered what Middle Daughter had ordered that she hadn’t told me about.  It was almost too big for the mailbox , and I struggled a bit to get it out.  When I checked the address, I was surprised to find my name on the label.  H-m-m-m-m-m.  Maybe Youngest Daughter had ordered something to come here instead of to her Philly address,  She hadn’t said anything, but she had come home for the long weekend, so maybe she just had it sent to me, hoping she would be here when it came.

Then I looked at the box a little more closely.  AMAZON FIRE PHONE was written all over the packing tape,  Oh, dear!!!  My heart sank clear down to my toes.  I couldn’t believe it!  The Offspringin’s had actually gone and done it!  I looked at that box and thought I just might cry!

It is no secret to any faithful reader of this blog that I am an old stick in the mud when it comes to cell phones.  I have a sturdy old flip phone that has been washed in the washer, has suffered many indignities, yea, things that would have killed off a lesser phone many times over.  It texts, it takes marginal pictures, it calls people, it keeps a wonderful contact list, and if I’m really desperate, can be programmed as an alarm clock.  But when the family is sending group text messages, I only can respond to one person unless I enter the addresses of the rest of the flock.  And I cannot tell to whom the text was sent( besides myself).  This bothers some of the Offspringin’.   Over Christmas, when they thought I might not be listening, they were discussing getting Certain Man and His Wife smart phones for Christmas.  I thought I had made myself clear on the point, and was terribly relieved when I escaped unscathed on the far side of the Christmas Celebration.  Now, THIS!

I brought the box in and set it on the kitchen table and considered my options.  I love my kids and the people they’ve married so intensely, I didn’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings.  I considered writing a group e-mail and thanking them sincerely but begging them to reconsider.  (That wouldn’t do, I decided.)  I thought about giving vent to my frustration and bringing on some tears with Middle Daughter and Youngest Daughter and explaining that I just didn’t want it!  (I decided that wouldn’t do either.)  I got to wondering if that was one of the reasons Youngest Daughter came home this weekend — she wanted to see my surprise and delight at this wonderful gift.  Maybe I should wait until she and Middle Daughter were both here to witness the opening of the box.  But then I worried that my reaction would be less than acceptable since they had obviously gone to great lengths to procure this new phone for me.  I decided that I had just better bite the bullet and open it and determine that I was going to learn to use it.  The Offspringin’s had obviously thought it was what was best for me and I am on a kick to try to listen to our Offspringin’s advice and counsel about what is best for me.

I got my instrument of sharp edges and slit the tape.

Oh, dear!

It was not a phone at all!  I looked in that box and laughed out loud.  It wasn’t a phone at all!

I began to feel really, really foolish.  It was a package of B12 drink mixes that I really like that I am no longer able to buy locally and I had ordered them on Wednesday evening and they had even told me that they would be delivered on Saturday.  Sigh!

The thing is, if it wasn’t for that phone phobia, and seeing those words in bold print on that tape, I would have thought of that sooner or later.  So it really is Amazon’s fault.  I think.  I’m pretty sure it hasn’t anything to do with anything else.

And when I say that my heart gives grateful praise on this Monday morning, you can believe that I am telling the truth.  My heart gives grateful praise for an old, old flip phone and for The Offspringin’s who weren’t half as meddling as I thought they were.

I think I’ll go have one of my new grape-flavored drinks.

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. . . and the sand keeps sliding through the hour glass

We came home last night to the farmhouse at Shady Acres after being gone for about 33 hours.  We crammed a lot of living in those hours, and had a wonderful time tromping through Lancaster, taking in MOSES! at Sight and Sound, visiting some of our favorite shops, and just enjoying some time away.  The only money we spent for food was for tips, as we had gift cards for everything else.  Motel 6 was extremely clean and comfy and we couldn’t have found nicer accommodations for $67.00.  I had such a happy time with that man that I love most.  The colors were beautiful in Lancaster.  When we were traveling up on Monday, it was raining.  I told Daniel that if we had some sun Tuesday, we would see some pretty spectacular trees.  I was right!

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When we came home, it seemed like things had fared pretty well while we were gone.  Laundry was caught up, the kitchen was straightened, my ladies were fed and contented.  But then it was mentioned that our trusty Miele dishwasher was not working, and that the dryer had taken three hours to dry the last towel load.  H-m-m-m-m-m. I need to see about finding myself a repair man, I guess. Oh, and my experienced eyes warned me that Cecilia didn’t seem to be doing so well.

The illness and the coming Homegoing of my sister in law, Frieda, seem to be ever with me.  Sometimes it almost seems wrong to have happy days and laugh.  But then I remember that she doesn’t want us to be gloomy and it doesn’t help her any for us to mope about.  So I shed my tears and I grieve and pray, but I’ve also had to laugh, had to eagerly anticipate upcoming events, and have kept these hands mostly busy.

The seats we had for the Moses! presentation were up in the upper level.  By the time I had climbed the several flights of stairs, I was wishing that I had taken the elevator.  When we found our seats, there was a rather portly couple on the end by the aisle.  For some reason, they thought it best to stay were they were and just compact themselves together as best they could to let us pass.  This left a narrow ledge for me to manuever my rather portly body past them to my seat.   There was no hand rail, the backs of the next row of seats was somewhere down close to my ankles.

I’m more than a little bit afraid of heights.  I can have a sturdy wall that is up to my waist between me and the Royal Gorge and still have to stand back a few feet to be comfortable.  No leaning on the guard rails for me!  I get this strange sensation in the back of my legs and it feels like the abyss is pulling me to itself with hungry tentacles.  For years I wouldn’t fly because of how terrified I was about getting my feet off the ground, but there came a day when I realized that my fear of flying was affecting my relationship with my husband and I decided that I would fly with him, even if it killed me.  (Which I was pretty certain it would!)  There was much prayer, much shutting of the eyes and just not looking, much faking of enthusiasm when a Certain Man who was in the window seat (always in the window seat!) would exclaim, “Look, Hon!  See how clear it is!  You can see clear down to the ground!  Right there is the Mississippi River, and if you look close, you can see the big gateway arch in St. Lewie.”  Oh, how my stomach would lurch as I dutifully leaned over him and tried to see.  But I’ve done it often enough now that the terror has been replaced by a general dislike, and is at least manageable.  But I digress.  I only went on that rabbit trail to explain how terrified I am of heights, and believe me, the upper deck of the Sight and Sound Auditorium is definitely “heights.”

So, I looked at those seats, five in, and breathed a quick prayer, scrunched myself together and scooted past the couple who were exclaiming things like, “Do you have enough room???  Can you make it???”  while occupying their space, but pulling their ample stomachs in and leaning back.  I wanted to say, “No, I don’t have enough space, but if I could just hang on to your shirt/blouse while I pass by, I could maybe walk across Niagara Falls on this three inch board!”  But I desisted.   Once past them, I could reach my hand out to the backs of the empty seats and steady myself and, more importantly, lean in the direction of not cascading down the interminable mountain of seats in front of me.

Whew!  Settled at last.  With 20 minutes to spare.  I wondered what I was ever going to do if I needed to use the restroom during the presentation.  Age and Lasix and four babies that averaged close to ten pounds apiece make this a consideration of import.  So I prayed that I could safely sit until intermission and immersed myself into the production.  And all was well.  At intermission the couple stood up and stepped out and there was no danger.  They repeated the favor at the end of the intermission and I gratefully returned to my seat.  The production of Moses! was well done end engaging,  and Certain Man and I enjoyed a wonderful time together.

We came home through the deepening Autumn afternoon, noted the clouds that were spotting across the western sky and wondered at the coming storm.  We came into light and home and warmth and family and a beloved Love Bug at the top of the ramp to welcome us.  This morning, the storm has still not broken, and I put on the CD of “Songs my Father Taught Me” by the West Coast Mennonite Chamber Choir.  The  kitchen window was cracked open a few inches and I played the song, “No more fear of Dying” twice as I thought about Frieda and her unchanged, eager anticipation of Heaven. She sleeps, talks with her family, sleeps some more.  My heart faltered as I considered the sadness of these waiting days.  Then I heard a wren, outside the window, singing her heart out along with the music that was swirling out into the morning mist.  I thought about Frieda, like a wren, living the praise in the face of dying, yes, but also in the light of Eternity.  The wren’s cheerful song  lifted my heart and made me think about things other than the broken dishwasher, delinquent dryer and even the fever that Cecilia developed in the morning hours.

Heaven. It’s on my mind.  And thanks to the events of this last week, it isn’t a “heavy” even though parting is a sorrow.  Listen here and be blessed.  My heart gives grateful praise.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LcQXZOMCNF8

Lyrics:

Jesus has arisen, joy and hope are given
Those who call upon His Name.
He shall be exalted through the endless ages;
Name above all other Names.

No more fear of dying – no more need to doubt.
Every one shall answer, every knee shall bow.

Jesus has ascended,
Not like He descended – in a low and humble way.
He has been victorious, lifted up and glorious
Now He holds His rightful place.

Jesus is returning, joy and hope are burning
In the true believers heart.
King of all creation, come with celebration,
May we never more depart!

No more fear of dying – no more need to doubt.
Every one shall answer, every knee shall bow.

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Filed under Dealing with Grief, home living, music, time away