Things I learned growing up #2

#2. Never criticize someone unless you have walked in their shoes for a mile.
This was mostly learned from Grandma Pyfer(Josie). She was the most accepting person I knew. I can't think of her criticizing anyone. When I was a teenager I loved to be with her. I felt so loved and I could share stuff with her. She was a good listener.
They say that Big Grandma (Mazie) was even more wonderful in this way. Everyone was sitting around one day talking bad about some man. After sitting silently for quite some time, when there was a lull in the gossip, she said, "Well, he sure can fiddle."
It's a blessed heritage I received with this teaching, but I have gotten away from it. The temptation to speak ill of someone when I'm frustrated with him/her is one of my greatest temptations. Putting them down justifies my own anger. But, always in the background of my conscience I have that voice of Grandmas Past, "Never criticize someone unless you've walked in their shoes for a mile." And, of course, Jesus has to chime right in with them telling me to love my enemies and do good to those who hurt you. I hate that! Actually, in the end, I love it. My newest example in this is Matt who gets most angry when service people are not treated kindly. Like waitresses, clerks, etc. "Get behind their eyes," he says, "Put yourself in their shoes." So maybe some of this old stuff is being passed down. I can only hope.

Things I learned growing up

#1. Never rush into the presence of God.
I think this was said most about going to church. Things like:
The night before get your clothes ready, shine shoes, set out your clothes.
Read your Sunday School lesson. Pray for the person who is going to speak.
Get your envelope ready with your tithing in it.
Get to church early so you can sit and meditate seeking God's presence.
Maybe there are others...
These seem like "old fashioned" ideas. Certainly out of step with our present "rush,rush" society. To me they seem like lessons from another world.
Terry and I can do these things pretty easily now, even though we have lots of church responsibilities. Our freedom makes that kind of discipline fairly easy.
But I think about parents who are fitting church in-between Sunday soccer games and Saturday night movies, parties, etc. Maybe that's why new theology talks more about God being present in every place. We either find God at the soccer games or we can't find room for God at all. I got the feeling, growing up, that God and church were one and the same thing. I'm glad I don't think that way any more. But I do think we're missing out when life is so packed full. I know, for myself, I get addicted to the adrenaline flow of the hurry lifestyle. When life slows down too much I get antsy. The old disciplines help with that. And I like what happens at church when I prepare myself to really meet God. That's another thing I was taught, to come to church expectantly, believing God would be there. And God always was (is).

A gift

I haven't been thinking about her much at all lately. I didn't expect to meet her again, especially in a dollar store.
Thankfully, I was not in a hurry. I had taken the afternoon for shopping, looking for stocking stuffers. There was a long line at the checkout. I was standing, wondering if I'd spent too much when she caught my attention. She didn't look like Mom at all. She was not pretty. Her grey hair was matted to her head, her eyes were watery and she stood kind of slumped. She had her cart in line but she was noticing a $1 sweatshirt on a rack near the line. The shirt said, "Best Dad ever, hands down." Her indecisiveness about a dollar sweatshirt let me know right off that her spending was more limited than mine. She kept stepping back and forth toward it. Noticing my eyes watching her she said, "It's just perfect for my oldest son. He's the best Dad." Her eyes became thoughtful and then, "I have 2 sons, the're both good Dads...but..." I lost her for a moment as she became lost in her own thoughts. I could tell by her face that she was experiencing one of those deep feelings of gratitude that Mothers feel when they are so proud of their kids.
Her adult daughter came to the line then. The woman introduced me and began to tell me about the rest of her family, asking me about mine. I began to be thankful for a long line. I think something inside me began to realize the gift I was receiving. Someone who could stop for a chat. Someone who saw no separation caused by differing life's circumstances. Someone who noticed me and cared about my life in spite of the busy season and the fact that we didn't know each other and would probably never meet again. It sounds funny to say but I loved that woman right then and there. We said good bye and wished each other a Merry Christmas. I didn't think to hug her but now I wish I had. It wasn't until I was almost to my car that I realized how much it was like being with Mom. I loved to be with Mom when we were with others. She didn't know a stranger. She was friendly and happy and full of interest in their lives. She could bring out the best in most people. And, how many times I had been with her when she had bought a shirt for one of my brothers with that same dreamy look in her eye. Most of all it was her priorities. Always people over things. One of the last times we went shopping together she asked me to go with her to buy some silverware that was on sale at Herbergers. She bought it after lots of dilemna. And then, a few days later she told me she had given it to someone because she thought they needed it more. I shook my head, secretly wondering why I had "wasted" a day shopping with her if she didn't even need the silverware. I'd like to have that day back. And in a way, last Friday, I did, if just for a few minutes in the line at the dollar store. Merry Christmas Mom. I miss you.

christmas growing up

My first memories of Christmas were when I was very young- less than 6. We held Christmas at Grandma Sacry's house. I loved it! All I really remember about it was when Santa came - the sound of bells and then Santa. Santa was usually a neighbor or one of the hired hands. Chuck Eyster was Santa alot. He carried a big sack and handed out toys. I can't recall what was so great about Christmas at Grandmas but I do remember being really disappointed when Mom said we were having Christmas at our house the year after "Big Grandma" (Grandpa Sacry's Mom) died. I was about 6. I didn't know before that the reason we had it there was so Grandma could be part of it. She was in bed all the time so had to have Christmas brought to her. Mom was very insistant about having Christmas at our house. Now I understand those sentiments, but as a child I was sure it just wouldn't be the same. But it was! Nothing was really any different except it was in our own home. Christmas (and actually everything else) was centered around us kids. I still can feel how special I felt. I knew we were the center of our parents and grandparents universe. They thought we were the most special people in the world. Our home abounded in laughter over all the antics of the kids. I don't remember being scolded or fussed at much. It was a very happy time.
I particularly remember 2 Christmases. One was when we were still celebrating at Grandma Sacry's house. I got a doll with blond hair and Debbie Hemund got one with dark brown hair. We played together alot and we named then Snow White and Rose Red.
Another Christmas I remember well was when the concentrator in Butte was on strike. Dad was working there at the time and he explained to us that we wouldn't get any gifts that year because there was no money. He was really disturbed about it and I felt bad for him. I didn't expect any gifts and then when Christmas came we did get gifts. I don't remember what but I do remember the surprise. Dad told me since then that he borrowed the money so we could have Christmas. He really dislikes Christmas and I think it's because he never can get the things he likes for people and feels overwhelmed by it all.
Christmas growing up was pretty simple - we just had Santa come and then everyone started opening gifts. Sometimes there was wrapping paper about a foot deep all over the floor. I didn't know what others got. It was just like the moment was a burst of excitement and then it was over. Now I like to do it more quietly and pay attention to each person's gifts and reactions. I really don't even care what I get, but I like to watch others. But still... I have good memories of those early Christmas, so wild and exciting. Sometimes I wish I could go back and see those days through adult eyes. I wonder how Mom and Dad felt watching us. I wonder if they worried like I do about being sure I give equal gifts. I wonder if they realized I didn't really care about the gifts even then. I just wanted everyone to be happy. I hope they know how really happy I was being loved so much as a child.

Pain

Whenever I am in pain I learn. When I was ugly after my brain surgery I thought about all the people who have a lopsided face all the time and others who can't eat correctly because of some kind of physical problem. When I had my hysterectomy (sp?) and Terry was with me so faithfully I thought of those who don't have anyone to love and support them. When my children were small I appreciated those who are single parents and never get support. This week I am thinking of those who have no teeth, or those who are in constant pain and are crabby. I get it and the only way I get it is because I'm uncomfortable. I don't like uncomfortable. I really despise pain. I am grateful for the empathy it brings to me. Maybe that's why God invented it (no theological arguements please). It can bring us together because we have compassion. The people I admire the most are those who have experienced lots of pain. I want to be like them. But I don't want the pain that made them that way.
Mmmmmmm...

food

One of the things I am most grateful for about my upbringing is the way I was fed. I love, for example, that almost every morning Mom fixed the following: hot cereal, eggs, meat, toast, or pancakes or french toast. I almost put "each morning" but I know that someone might not believe me though I think it's true. I can't imagine the amount of time, energy and commitment that took. I thought I was doing good to always have one of the following: french toast, pancakes, eggs ,etcfor my own kids. Diane tells me by the time she came around it was cold cereal. One of the draw backs of being at the end instead of the beginning.
I also loved having a variety of food on the supper table. I understand Dad demanded meat and potatoes rather than casseroles but I still loved it. We always had desserts too but I never thought about eating 3 or 4 helpings because there was so much variety. I think it's a good thing.
ok, I'm writing about food because I had oral surgery and I can only have soft stuff this week. I'm really tired of yogart. This morning I woke up dreaming about a salad. Karen Sacry brought a salad to a meal Saturday night. I'm still thinking about it.
Some of my friends make fun of me when I order a salad when we eat out. Like they want me to have a huge burger. But I really love salads and veggies and fruit. I am giving my Mom and grandmothers the credit for this because I still love variety and I like food that is good for me. ok, so I love lots of butter and a little too much bread. (does it count that I prefer whole wheat?)

Spencer Edward Drake

 
 
 
 

Featuring Spencer

"The first shall be last." The day Spencer was born, in the room as they were just finished cleaning him up Jamie whispered to me, "He's perfect!" Yes, he was. And, he still is! (spoken like the grandmother of her first grandchild) People tell me Spencer is a beautiful child with his blond curly hair and big blue eyes. Of course that makes me proud. But what I love about him is that he is so enthusiastic about life! Confidence oozes from him. His list of LOVES is long: school, friends, Abigail, Birthday Bash Day at school, cakes, his new scooter, family home evening, his Dad when he's silly, his Mom's hugs, going to "Old MacDonalds" (McDonalds)...
He is sure he is right and that things will be wonderful. He is so kind to his sisters especially considering he is definitely outnumbered. He wants to do the right thing and has no problem telling me if what I've done is not appropriate. "No, no no (very fast) Oma, you do it this way." His verbal skills are amazing. His balance has always been advanced. He loves to laugh and be silly. I love to be with him.

Kate Nonie Reiff

 
 
 
 

Featuring Kate!

My favorite pictures of Kate are symbolic of who she is: Sitting in a large chair with her Mother in the corner of their living room, talking quietly, like they are adult best friends and sitting in the other corner of their living room on her Daddy's lap resting her head on his chest, listening to the adults talk. She carries the spirit of my mother, her namesake, a combination of confidence and vulnerability. A child who is on the one hand a little adult and on the other a fun-loving, laughing child. When she was younger she was afraid of vacuums and now she can climb huge rocks. I love her ability to pretend, caught up in a world of her own imagination. I love her hiding when we come to visit, and then her tight, warm hugs when she finally reveals herself. She is the kind of child that causes people to exclaim, "What a beautiful child!" And yet, her true beauty is her spirit of love, loyalty and compassion for others. She is not afraid to be alone, in fact, prefers it at times, but she loves to be with other people, children or adults and fits well in the company of many, able to hold on to who she is despite the activities around her. I feel it's a privilege that Kate lets me into her life. I truly adore her.

Michael Vernon Reiff

 
 
 
 

Featuring Michael

I LOVE to be with Michael! Taking a good pic of him is hard because his head is down as he is always discovering. And, because, when I am with him, instead of recording life, he drawns me into life. A spider, a plant, a new book about dinasaurs. One of his favorite dvd's is Earth. Another is Shark Week (wrong name I think) He loves to learn. Michael is totally without guile. He is totally undeceitful! I love his love and loyalty to his family. His spirit is so gentle, forgiving and kind. When he was here in August tolfs horse got cut and had a gash on it's side. One of the first things he asked me in SC was how that white horse was. I love Michael's spirit. It brings me such joy. He is the kind of child that could be anything he chooses because he is determined to do whatever it takes to reach his goal. My words fall short of who he is. He is such a brilliant combination of Jamie and Logan. To share a day with him is a gift to anyone wise enough to receive.

Rachel Elizabeth Drake

When I think of Rachel I think of a tiny hand reaching up to hold mine; a giggle, almost unheard, a calm confidence as she marches to her own drummer; a lovely little lady lying on her belly reading an open book, lost in her own world of wonder;
standing in the big chair waving her arms as she leads a song; an almost weightless body crawling on to your lap, snuggling in to you; slowly eating in her high chair; chattering as she helps with dishes. When I think of Rachel I think of the many times she surprises me with her funny sense of humor; her bright insights on a situation; her angry growl when things don't go her way. Whenever I think of Rachel I say a prayer that she will stay her independent, unique, loving, delightful self.

Featuring Rachel

 
 
 
 

Anna Keli Drake

To know Anna is to know life- at its fullest!A cry is full of anguish, a laugh- delightful!I need it now! I need you, Mom. I love playing, Dad. Another outfit is a must! The more color the better. Whirling, dancing, falling, laughing, crying, demanding, holding, quietly loving. Loving sister intensely, reading, singing, praying, hurting, watching, preening, swinging, touching, holding. Giving every moment to life. Then sleeping - soundly. She draws your heart and leaves you laughing, missing her intensely. Ardent brother admirer, passionate sister friend, delightful Daddy dancer, quietly close to mother. Singing, always singing. Her yes is yes, her no is no! We all love her so.

Featuring Anna

 
 
 
 

Abigail Nora

When I think of Abigail I think of a gift. She has been like a gift placed in her family as a great blessing. OK, so all kids are a gift, but...When I see the joy in Terra's face when she looks at Abigail; when I see how delighted Spencer is over her and how much he adores her; when I see the twins enjoying her antics and Zach holding her so preciously (a word?)I can't help but find wonderful joy in her life.
She seems to have that easy going, loving, cuddling temperment that makes you want to have a dozen like her. Her smile is delightful. She is so beautiful. I miss her.

Featuring Abigail

 
 
 
 

Finlei

Yes, I am going to do this 8 times and yes, I am going from youngest to oldest.
Finlei is one of those babies who gets more stunning each week. As you can see she is beautiful, but what the pictures don't tell too well is how beautiful her spirit is! She is one of those children who is just so full of life that you are drawn to her! She is loud and full of energy. I love the way her parents adore her. Jamie is already saying he hopes she grows up fat with lots of pimples so the boys will leave her alone! I have a feeling he will be able to handle it. The thing about Finlei is that she finally loves me! If the pic of the dog goes through- he is a new puppy who is definitely kid friendly. Finlei loves to crawl on Lola and Lola doesn't seem to mind it at all.

Featuring Finlei

 
 
 
 

Hike to Terry's fishing lake

 

Maci Loren

The only thing more fun than having a new granddaughter is having my children have their first child. It has been one miracle after another when I am blessed to visit Maci. Each week she gets more darling. The last time I was there I was able to feed her. When I had her sitting up on my lap to burp, she turned to me, looked me in the eyes and smiled several times. It was a precious time for me. But... when I am there I get just as much joy over watching her parents as I do watching her. Tasha is an amazingly calm, competent, positive Mom. She seems to radiate with joy over her new child. Matt, who wouldn't hold a child until Maci came along, calmly holds and handles his new daughter like she is a treasure he has long waited for.
It brings this grandma such peace and joy. God's miracles are so perfect.

Featuring Maci

 
 
 
 

Passing

I used to think the most holy and precious moments of my life were the moments I gave birth. Full of pain and hardship but, then, tremendous joy and a new understanding of my connection with God as co-creator with God.
A year ago this coming Sunday was also a time of intense pain and hardship. For a week I had shared with my siblings, my father, my relatives and friends as Mom began her passing from us to another place.
I had never been a part of death in that way before. Mom had talked with me about times when she had been with people as they slipped away from this life. I knew I wanted to be there when Mom left. It was a very long and beautiful week. If I could talk with Mom now she would say, "Wasn't that wonderful that week I was in the coma?!" She would have loved it. Maybe she did. I don't know. In many ways, it was one of the most precious weeks of my life.
The morning Mom left has become, in my mind, a very holy day. We were there, waiting, Ken, Susan, Diane, Debbie and Sandy. Others were coming and going. Those who were more familiar with passing seemed to know the time would not be long. I can't speak of how anyone else felt. But for me, it was about the breathing, and the warmth of her hand. I don't know what time of that night she began to breathe like a baby. That breathe and stop, breath and stop kind of breathing a new born has. I have watched many babies breathe like that. Unless you have I cannot describe it to you. When it began, it gave me peace. It was familiar and it represented life to me. With each breath there was more time before another breath. Each time I wondered if it would come again.
By that time I was ready for it to stop. I felt that whole week the struggle it was for Mom to keep living. Each day seemed so long for her, and, of course for us.
I didn't want to loose her but I knew it was time. I knew with every part of my being that she wanted to go. She had told me so many times that she was not afraid to die, even longed for that time when she would meet Jesus. (thinking of it now I am jealous of her. And even a little angry at her for going without me.)
I don't think I really knew, until the moment I saw Mom die, what a soul was. Somehow, now, I know. When she took her last breath Diane began the song, "Praise ye the Lord - Hallalueh!" We all joined in. We cried and we laughed.
I don't think I could describe that moment as joyful. The grief was overwhelming. It still is sometimes. As we stayed with her, her body became cold. It was like seeing a soul leave. It was during that time that I realized she was no longer with us. Her shell was there but she was gone.
I say it was a holy time because being with her as she went on to the new place she is in was a sacrament. It was like the final sacrament of life. A sacrament, by definition is an opportunity for us to experience God in the midst of life. Baby blessing, baptism, marriage, annointing the sick... and, now I see, death itself.
The passing.
Mom taught us to include God in all of life. There were times when she did it so well it annoyed us. It seemed too simplistic. It was in the way she lived and in the way she died that I was able to see God most clearly. If I could pass on any gift to my children and grandchildren it would be to give them many holy moments when, in the midst of every detail of their life, they would experience the peace that is God. Perhaps the only way I can do it is like Mom did, by living it. May God have mercy on me that I can follow Mom's example.

Bad dream?

I am ashamed, scared, desperate. I am in Philadelphia. I know by the street cars and I recognize some places. Terry and I are separated and I am lost and I don't know how to get out of the area. No one cares about me. Everyone is desperate, hungry, and night is coming with it's cold. I find myself concentrating on how I will keep warm that night. How can I steal someone else's blanket after they've gone to sleep. No one cares. I'm in a soup line. We sit around on the ground eating our souplike beans. Someone speaks, "Mine has a head in it." I silently thank God mine doesn't. I truly feel thankful for this food. I wonder where Terry is. I know he will be looking for me but I feel hopeless that he will find me. I think about morality and I don't care if I am or not. I only care about survival. I think about an old boyfriend and I wonder if he's around that neighborhood. I ask myself if I would sacrifice my own integrity to take his help. Not one person seems to care if I live or die. I wake up and my stomach is still full from the chicken dinner Nancy fixed for pizza church last night. I think about people who are starving all over the world, people who live the reality of that dream every day. I spend a half hour wondering how I can change my life so they can not have to live out that dream. I am afraid of hell. Don't I deserve hell for being so comfortable when others are starving? My large house, land, beauty, too many clothes, blankets, 2frigs, 3 freezers, all full repulse me. I want to freeze that dream in my memory so I won't forget. I wonder if my grandchildren will ever have to endure that misery. I think of scriptures in the prophetic part of the bible that say God hates sacrifices of worship when the poor are desperate. I wonder again about my life, my choices.

Love's Answer

We were told to meditate on what is our greatest struggle spiritually. It didn't take me long to decide. "What does the Lord require of me?" As I walked away from the group pondering that thought, I felt drawn to walk to the chapel. Entering the large, empty semi-darkness I sat near the front in a pew. The last time I was there was for reunion/family camp. The warm Spirit of that memory touched me, remembering the blessings of that week given by God and I silently prayed, "God, you helped me
so much during reunion." The Answer came quickly, "No, you helped Me." The wonder of God is how I can feel chastised and treasured/loved at the same moment. I recognized first the chastisement. Terry's Dad used to call it, "The tail wagging the dog." I understood I was placing God as my helper, not the other way around. That immediately rearranged itself in my head and another image came to mind. I thought of the joy I experienced as a parent when my children attempted to help me. They would be under foot, feeling like they were doing so much. What came to me was the feeling I have - the joy, listening to their chatter, smiling at their attempts. The JOY. I knew God felt joy in my sharing in God's work. I am still sorting out how that fits with what God requires of me. Somewhere in the answer is my own joy as I serve. How is it that whatever I do for God comes back to bless me more? I am deeply moved by that kind of Parental love.

God's bounty

 
 
 
 

Grazing

I used to stuff myself when a meal was good. And I did it pretty often. It really was not hard to do and I didn't feel too miserable. The last few years that is not fun anymore. I don't like to eat too much. Let me correct that statement - I like to eat too much but not all at once. I'm more of a grazer.
Today I was thinking that, as I've gotten older I am more of a spiritual grazer.
I used to live for those special camps, reunions, retreats, etc. They kept me going.
That once a year high was the thing! Now, I can't do it that way. I still love those events but I love just as much the early morning prayer times each day that keep me balanced. And I'm really wanting to even spiritually graze a little more often. Like remembering to include God in each event of my day. Remembering God's presence when I'm cutting up carrotts, mowing the yard, visiting a friend. I'd like to learn how to never stuff myself, but often fill myself with the knowledge that I am loved. When I do that, I love life. (Bye the way, how do you spell grazing?)

 

4 years ago we took Terra, Zach and family to their new home in Philadelphia. Terry drove with them and I flew with Spencer. We drove to what was to become their new home and I was devastated. No back yard! Almost no yard! Trashy streets! Hot and muggy! On a busy street! I racked my brain trying to come up with a way they could buy something else. I could hardly find a home with a back yard let alone one they could afford. The neighbors seemed scarey. We left our precious daughter, darling grandson and their protector, Zach in this place that seemed dangerous, filthy and beyond God's redemption. A few months later when I flew out for the birth of the twins I didn't feel much better. She had been unable to find a doctor who would take even her high risk pregnancy without insurance. Every time I flew away from that city that first year I watched the city as the airplane flew out of the smog and could not believe those I loved had to breath it, endure it. I was helpless to change anything. I cried until I got to the next stop.
As the years have passed I have seen God's miracle in this place was more perfect than I could imagine. God had placed her in a place where she was 1 block from a great library, a good mechanic at the end of the block, the wic office less than a block, a great hardware store within walking distance, close to the zoo, close to a place for Zach to catch the subway. A lovely lady called Debbie had instantly befriended her, helped her create date night, children's play time and a safe space for sharing her burdens and her children. She and Zach and the children have found amazing friendships, had unforgetable experiences and are, as I write, crying and grieving the loss of a place called Philly that they hate to leave.
Today I went on line to try to find cheap tickets so I could fly there to help Terra this next week in South Carolina. She will be in a new place alone with her children as Zach cannot leave Philly yet. She has not seen her house, known her neighbors, signed Spencer up for school which starts Monday. She will be clear across the US by herself with no visible support. I cannot find a flight I can afford. But, I have learned my lesson. God will do amazing things in her life this year. No matter the circumstances, I have a daughter who knows God's provision for her and trusts. She believes in prayer. She is obedient to God's will for her. She is strong and confident. She loves her children and knows how to take care of them. She knows how to get her perspective. She has a church community that supports each other. She will be fine.