one more

I just thought of another extremely funny time. We were having prayer meeting at Twila Snyder's home. She was an elderly lady who was a friend of Grandma Cora. She was 7th Day Adventist and went to our church on Sunday and Wednesday evenings. She was almost deaf and seldom remembered her hearing aids. One night, near Christmas we were singing a Christmas song but the person in charge had told us to sing only the first verse. I think it was Silent Night. Twila didn't hear that announcement. So when the song ended, Twila didn't. She had a crackly, squeaky voice. She continued singing, by herself because she also didn't look up to see she was singing alone. I believe at one point we decided to join her so she wouldn't be embarassed but the damage was done. I especially remember Terra's laughter on the way home. The kids had been complaining about the boring prayer meetings. It wasn't boring that night!

laughter through church

Dolly Parton said, in Steel Magnolia, "Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion." I agree with her but laughter in church is definitely fun. Anyone who has spent most of their life in church would remember a time when it was difficult to keep themselves under control because of some small thing that struck them funny.
This morning I am remembering a few such moments.
We used to go to prayer service every Wednesday at Grandpa and Grandma Sacry's house. Of course, since it was late in the day and it was a very quiet and reverent time, inevitably one child (adult?) would become sleepy. The time I remember is when Ken fell asleep. I suppose he was about 6 but I'm not sure. He fell asleep but instead of just leaning back on his chair, for some reason he was sitting very upright. I have no idea who was praying or giving testimony because we were all watching as he swayed, first forward, jerk, then sideways, jerk. Back and forth he went. Our prayers that night were focused more on helping Ken not fall off his chair than anything else. And our laughter was reserved for later but it was hard!
Mom told about a time when she was at a funeral with Grandpa Pyfer. She was sitting near the isle and happened to look down the isle to the back to see who was coming in. An old couple was slowly making their way down the isle. She was holding on to his arm and he was carrying her purse on his other arm. The sight of him carrying her purse struck Mom funny. So, right there in the middle of the funeral music Mom had what Terry and I call a "Nonie laugh." Not wanting to offend anyone she covered her face with her hanky and hand, shoulders shaking with her silent laughter. That was bad enough but Grandpa thought she was crying so he started patting her arm. This made it even worse! It was a long funeral trying to keep herself under control.
I laugh thinking of the time Terra and Tiffany were in their early teens and they were supposed to sing a song in church. They got up front. Began their song and something started them giggling. Maybe one of them made a mistake. I don't know. They would hold the book in front of their face and try to get control. Start again. After a few tries, they just had to sit down without singing their song.
My own worse (best?) and funniest time was when I was presiding one Sunday. As usual, I was trying something new. Part of that change up was not having people stand for the opening hymn. Mom was going on automatic so she stood - all by herself. The thing that got me started was the way she tried to slither her way back down to her seat without being too conspicuous. I tried to cover up my laughter with the hymn book in front of my face. Shoulders shaking, eyes crying, it was not working. The wisdom of age and similar experiences let me know I must leave the service, if only for a minute, and get it out. Luckily, the way the chairs were placed at that time was around the corner from the bathroom. I slithered around the corner as the hymn continued, went into the bathroom and laughed as hard as I could for probably only 30 seconds. Hardening my mind to not look at Mom or think about the situation I was able to preside over the service.
I believe if it happens again, depending on the circumstances, I will ask the congregation to please take a "Nonie laugh" break. We will all laugh our heads off and I will know that God is laughing with us. After all, didn't God create laughter? And, who says it's not ok to laugh in church?

Empty

Mom was almost always home when I came home as a child. One day I walked into the house excited about sharing something about school with her. The house was empty. She had taped a note for us on the tv that was mounted up high in the living room. It was a "to do" list. My stomach felt sick and very empty. This morning when I woke up I remembered that day. It's the same feeling I have now.

Reunions

My first experience at a church reunion was when I was somewhere between 10 and 13. I think. It was also the last time it was held at a little campground just southish from Deer Lodge called Racetrack. My few memories of that place are each connected to feelings of "love." I believe I must have been in that fickle place when the older teenage girls were just beginning to include me in their group. I listened intently as Susan and, someone else, maybe Sandy, advised me about a certain young boy named Todd Eliason. The Eliason boys were the heartthrob of every girl in the Western Montana district. Todd was the youngest. He was no exception. The rumor was that Todd was going to ask me to campfire. The advise was, "Say yes!" I was definitely more interested in being a part of the older girls and doing what they said than I was interested in Todd Eliason, even if he was one of those Eliason boys. It must have taken all of his courage to walk into that crowded room and ask me.
"Will you go to campfire with me?"
"Yes." Typical junior high.
I think the reason I remember this event is because when I walked out of the room, (He had already left.) Tod was jumping in the air in a little fit of exaltation over my acceptance. I felt embarassed for him when he realized I was watching.
My second memory of that reunion was also about "love" but the kind of love that is common in junior high girls. "The crush." Ron Yager was a tall, handsome blondish young missionary who was assigned to our area. He had been at our home before. My little brother, Randy, walked up to him and kicked him in the chin the first time he came to visit. He laughed and used that somehow to make a point in his next sermon. I can only imagine my own shy adoration of this man who stole my heart. I loved God and I loved him and I think the two loves were pretty mixed together. No one knew it but I was determined that I would marry him someday. At this reunion, Ron was the guest minister. I was sitting on the front row when he made his announcement. In his charming way he told us he had a very special announcement. He was going to marry a lovely young women named "Del." I was crushed. It seems I was able to hold it together until the service ended. Then I snuck around the corner of the building where I could be alone to cry.
My third memory was about a different kind of love. I've often wondered why I fell in love at such an early age - with God. I craved above anything else that sweet, strong Spirit that touched me so early on. I would rather be in church, at a camp or reunion than any place else. I loved it when the guest ministers would travel through Montana and stay at Grandma and Grandpa Sacry's home. I would sit in the living room and listen to them as they discussed religion with Grandpa Carroll.
I loved being at this reunion because I loved the Holy Spirit. It was at this reunion that Mom received her Patriarchial blessing. I wanted to be there. I'm not sure who was except Mom, myself and the minister. I don't remember much of what was said but I do remember not wanting to leave that room. The sweetness of that Spirit was better to me than Todd or Ron or anybody else.

women of faith

Last weekend I went to women of faith in Billings. I went by myself but met some women from the Billings Community of Christ. It was the closest thing to visiting Mom I've done yet. Mom loved Women of Faith. She went many times. Once Mom, Diane, Susan and I went to the one in Spokane. We were wandering around after the Friday night session trying to find our car. I think we were walking too fast for Mom and she fell and broke her finger. Still not knowing where the car was we called an ambulance. While we were waiting and while the ambulance was getting ready to carry Mom, someone suggested we take a picture. After all it was part of the experience we were trying to have together. Mom was game for it, of course. We spent most of the night in the er. The next morning Mom and I still wanted to go to WoF. Susan and Diane wanted to rest. They felt sick. They went in the afternoon I think. I don't have good memories of that weekend especially since on the trip home I had the stomach cramps and diareha and we stopped at about every exit on the way back to Missoula.
Another time we went to WoF in Spokane Mom couldn't think straight and we had to be sure she got to the right place. I wonder now why she was so confused then. It was several years ago.
Regardless of the circumstances, Mom loved to be at WoF. She loved the women, had read their books. They were are part of her own healing. They were some of the women who helped her laugh during the most difficult times of her life.
Last weekend a picture of Barbara Johnson, who died of a brain tumor a few years ago, was on the screen above the speakers. Barbara started a ministry called Spacula Ministries I think. It was for those people who were scraping themselves off the ceiling because of their difficult circumstances. Barbara had 3 sons. One was killed in Vietnam. One was killed on a trip back from Alaska. The other one came to her to tell her he was gay and there was a long struggle with separation between them. She knew pain and she knew how to find humor in the middle of it. Sitting there at WoF last weekend, I suddenly realized that Mom was having her own WofFaith meeting up above. I think she is able to visit Barbara Johnson. I can see them talking and sharing together, laughing and crying. And how about Erma Bombeck? Margaret Reiff? I sat there and made my own list of those women Mom might be sharing with. Mrs. Elefson. Big Grandma. Grandma McDade.
Her own Mom. "Heaven is a wonderful place, filled with glory and grace. I want to see my Savior's face. Heaven is a wonderful place!" Mary, Jesus' Mother, Elizabeth, Abigail, Carla's twins, Marge (oh my gosh, can you hear them laugh?), Crystal, Grandma Cora...It's a good think eternity is long!

Advocate

I like the idea of God being like a Father. I like the idea of God being like a Mother. The idea of God being both, a mix is a blessing to me. I recommend the DVD, "She" by Rob Bell. John Edward's wife was on Oprah the other day. She has terminal cancer. Oprah asked her if it was true that people who have lost a child look at their own death differently. Mrs. Edwards said that was true for her.
The whole heaven thing is beyond my comprehension. But I've noticed since Mom's death that heaven definitely seems more "friendly." My head tells me that God is good and loving and kind and accepting. But my heart is much more willing to believe I will be accepted and loved in heaven since Mom is there. The Bible says Jesus is my advocate. I've found comfort thinking that He is there rooting for me. But that comfort has doubled since the one who always thought the best of me is there also. OK, so this particular blog is off limits as a theological discussion. Mom says, feelings are just feelings, neither bad or good, they just are. I claim that decision.

Priorities

One of the most important values my Mother taught me was having good priorities. This a.m. I am thinking about those lesson times. The first was rocking. I find it quite incredible to realize my Mom rocked 9 children to sleep. In spite of what the popular book, "Baby Wise" advises (yes, I do see the advantages of putting a child down and letting he/she learn to go to sleep on his/her own) I'm deeply thankful that rocking was Mom's priority. I chose to go that route myself. Rocking my children helped me set aside time just for them, was restful for me and gave me time to sing to them and to think about the important things of life. Kathryn told me sometimes she would hold her children tightly until they submitted to her desire for them to be rocked. They did not want to be rocked sometimes but she insisted. That beginning "discipline" made other times of submission more easy. Early on they learned that submitting to their parents, in the end, was a blessing.
When Matt was only weeks old he would nurse for a half hour every 2 hours. It was about all I found time for! One day I called Mom, so frustrated. Rather than sympathy, she said, "What do you have to do that's any more important than holding Matt?" My feeble words about cleaning my house fell on deaf ears. Now, when I would love to just sit and hold Matt, or just visit with him more often, I can see the wisdom in her advise.
The Mothers I most admire have that same priority: relationships before housework.
When Mom sold Avon and went around to homes she told me the best Mothers on the route always had clean laundry to be folded on their couch. (I bet she sat and folded it for them while they talked!)
When I lived away somewhere I called Mom and she and Rand had gone on a picnic together. She still had children at home and she and Rand went, just the 2 of them.
I can't imagine regretting that one.
Mom had pre-school, elementary children, teens and grandchildren all at the same time. Yet she always found time to help a kid(s) make a batch of cookies. And I don't remember a time when she wouldn't stop everything to play cards with kids of all ages.
I realize as I write that Mom's highest priority was always children.
Yesterday I was feeling kind of achy and tired and not too excited about the yard work I had to do. I thought I might be coming down with something. Then the phone rang and it was Spencer wanting to tell me about the tea he had at his preschool for "just me and Mom." Suddenly I was bubbling over with enthusiasm and joy! Just talking to him made my day.
Everyone has different priorities. Mom's weren't always good, I suppose. But I loved hers most of the time. If life seemed just too crazy I could walk into her house and seem to know what was the right thing to do. To be with her was like a magic computer that you could put all your information into and it would feed out just the right priority.
Ken reminds me that we still have Mom. She's inside us, maybe even watching us. I know, Ken, but this morning I wish I could walk through her door, accept her warm hug, sit and visit and come away knowing what really mattered most in life.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I miss you.