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.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
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.
It brings this grandma such peace and joy. God's miracles are so perfect.
Monday, September 21, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
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.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Friday, September 4, 2009
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?)
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?)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
