Sunday, December 16, 2007
In Honor of James Gayle Reiff
Last night Terry and I went to Clinton for a party in honor of Jamie finishing law school. My 4th child.
Jamie was the only one of my children who caused my water to break before labor began. I say "caused" because it felt like he was coming out weeks before he arrived! I had a bad cough and I spent many night sitting up in bed so I could sleep without coughing. He was also my one and only sonogram kid. I think he was 2 days late. Terry's parents had come for the weekend, hoping to be there for the event, and then gone home. Sunday afternoon after they left I was taking a nap and I heard a "pop." And then warm water.
I went into having my last child like I was entering a war zone! I was not looking forward to the birth! But I did want another child. So... I was ready. Terry and I left together to go to the hospital when my contractions were just beginning. He had to work the ER, so I went there with him. I figured I would stay with him as long as possible in the room he slept in. I watched "Jaws" on TV through the beginning stages. Then I went to the labor room. That week, Nancy Sacry had sent me a card with the scripture, "God did not give us the spirit of fear, but of love, power and a sound mind." I had decided to use that scripture from Timothy in the Bible to help me concentrate through labor and delivery. When the contractions were fairly light I panted to "l-o-v-e". As they got worse, I panted to "p-o-w-e-r" and when it seemed I couldn't bear them any more I used, "s-o-u-n-d m-i-n-d." I hardly paid any attention to anything else. I do remember during part of the evening that they wheeled a darling little girl with thick black hair into the labor room. She had just been born and was being adopted. I wanted a little girl. 2 boys, 2 girls just like Gayle and Kathryn.
In the delivery room I was not able to keep as good of control. As usual, the pushing was the tough part. I remember thinking I couldn't stand it much longer. Then the doctor accidently pinched me with the forcepts. I screamed a little cry and he apologized. I surprised myself by not even being disappointed when Jamie came out and he was a boy. He was absolutely beautiful! I immediately took him and nursed him but he wasn't really hungry. The doctor asked me if I had ever had an injury on my tailbone. I remembered one when I was tubing. He thought it might have contributed to my difficult deliveries.
By that time, all of the children could come up to the hospital and visit me. I remember Mom came up with them. I was pretty tired and was glad when they went home. I think I felt especially confident with Mom being with them that they were fine. What a treat to have her there! When we got home we had a celebration of her birthday.
I have to tell you that the word I would use to describe raising Jamie would be delightful! He was a fun child and by then I knew what was important and what was not. I didn't worry as much about the small things and I enjoyed so much each moment, knowing the time goes so fast! All the kids loved holding him and he was strong and healthy.
Mom said I finally got a child that looked like a Sacry. I don't know about that since he looks like Terry and Nathan especially.
One qualitiy I loved and still love about Jamie is his desire for relationship. He loves people and he can't hold anything against anyone. One day I was so mad at him because he had been acting out. I was ignoring him and fuming around the house. He said to me, "Mom, you've got to forgive me or something."
As a child, he had a deep sensitivity to God's Spirit. One day I was driving with him on the way to pick up Terra from kindergarten. We were passing the beautiful fields of cotton in Mississippi with the red blooms against the white cotton and green leaves. I was listening to a tape in the tape player that was a Christian music tape and had mostly forgotten he was even in the car buckled in the seat behind me. Then I heard his little voice,
"Mom"
"What, Jamie?"
"I'm so happy."
Surprised, "Why Jamie?"
"Because God loves me."
It was a confirming testimony to me that the Spirit I was feeling, was also touching this little child.
It is so tempting to continue writing about other experiences with Jamie, but I know this writing is too long because my neck hurts. If you ever read this, Jamie, I hope you know how very proud of you I am. Somewhere, deep inside of you, you know how very much God loves you. My prayer is that you claim that love as you move on to another phase of your life. Congratulations on a job well done.
Posted by Carol Ann at 5:35 AM 0 comments
A Prayer Answered
It was the summer of 1980. Terry and I decided to go to the reunion in the Jefferson City area before he began his internship. We borrowed his parents' trailer. I was about 2 month pregnant with Jamie. I was concerned about the year ahead. Being pregnant, having 3 , 5 and under, knowing Terry would be gone alot and moving to a new town. Frankly, I wasn't sure I could do it. One morning I woke up early and decided I would go to a wooded area to pray. I had been taught all my life about Joseph going to God in prayer. Why not me! Sneaking out of the camper, I found a spot where it was quiet and sat on a log. I don't think I was there long. I simply lifted my prayer to God. My prayer was simple, something like, "Lord, you know what my year is going to be like. I don't have the strength to face it. You've promised to be with me. I'm asking you today to give me some help. Somehow, today, through what happens, give me help in knowing how to cope with this year." And then I snuck back to bed.
The first activity of the morning was a prayer service. I remember sitting in the service, watching a beautiful red bird in a hole in the front of the chapel. The man in charge stood up and said, "I feel lead by the Spirit this morning to
ask you to center your prayers and testimonies around the needs of mothers with small children." People began to pray for just that, and to give testimonies about how they had been helped by God in raising their families.
At the close of that service it was announced that there would be a special tea for ladies. The wives of the guest ministers would be sharing. When I went to that tea, women shared about how they coped with their husbands being gone so much.
After I returned home, I received a book that Terry's Mom had sent on the day of my prayer about how to organize and clean my house better.
I am still amazed when I think about that day. How can I ever wonder now if God really works in our individual lives. I told no one about my concerns, not even Terry. I'm not sure I even testified after those experiences about the goodness of God. But I have never forgotten how God answered my prayer, as, in an act of faith, I went to that place, as a child of God, asking my Father for help.
Posted by Carol Ann at 5:12 AM 0 comments
Monday, December 17, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Jefferson City
David says in the Psalms (somewhere), “I was young and now I am old and I have not seen the righteous forsaken.” Lately, I have been feeling old. I don’t really claim to be righteous except through Christ’s blood, but I can say, like David, that I have never been forsaken.
This morning I am remembering a time that was such a spiritually high time for me in my life. For Terry’s internship we moved to a little duplex outside of Jefferson City, Missouri. I was pregnant with Jamie and it was the year Matt started kindergarten. Terry was seldom home. He seldom had any time off, working 12-14 hour days, though I do remember him going to church with me some. We were blessed with a marvelous church family. Some spiritual “giants” went to that church, very strong in faith and people who were consistently praying, studying scripture and serving others through community and church. It was a pleasure every time we went. I remember crying a lot in that church maybe because I felt the freedom to cry because people were so supportive. I sometimes crave being there again.
This morning I remember especially one time when I felt lead all week to study in Ephesians, the section on the armor of God, “Finally brothers, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power. Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh but against the rulers, against the authorities against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, so that you will be able to withstand on that evil day, and having done everything to stand firm. Stand therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. With all of these take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. Pray in the Spirit at all times in every prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert and always persevere in supplication for all the saints…”6:10-18
It was a beautiful week studying this scripture. I remember especially being drawn to the part about the flaming arrows of the evil one because I felt like that was happening to me through negative thoughts. Each time I had a bad thought I would think of a shield of faith going up to block it.
But the great part of that week was on Sunday morning when the minister for the week (don’t remember his name) stood and said he had been praying for us this week. He believed that those who came were brought by God. His message this week was on the scripture on the Armour of God from Ephesians. This was before we used the lectionary or had any communication to direct us to these scriptures. I had simply been lead through the Spirit as a result of his prayers for me and others. It was a powerful testimony to me during a time when I needed that help of God’s knowledge of my situation and my needs. I sat bathed in the warmth of that Spirit, praising and thanking God.
This morning I am remembering a time that was such a spiritually high time for me in my life. For Terry’s internship we moved to a little duplex outside of Jefferson City, Missouri. I was pregnant with Jamie and it was the year Matt started kindergarten. Terry was seldom home. He seldom had any time off, working 12-14 hour days, though I do remember him going to church with me some. We were blessed with a marvelous church family. Some spiritual “giants” went to that church, very strong in faith and people who were consistently praying, studying scripture and serving others through community and church. It was a pleasure every time we went. I remember crying a lot in that church maybe because I felt the freedom to cry because people were so supportive. I sometimes crave being there again.
This morning I remember especially one time when I felt lead all week to study in Ephesians, the section on the armor of God, “Finally brothers, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power. Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh but against the rulers, against the authorities against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, so that you will be able to withstand on that evil day, and having done everything to stand firm. Stand therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. With all of these take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. Pray in the Spirit at all times in every prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert and always persevere in supplication for all the saints…”6:10-18
It was a beautiful week studying this scripture. I remember especially being drawn to the part about the flaming arrows of the evil one because I felt like that was happening to me through negative thoughts. Each time I had a bad thought I would think of a shield of faith going up to block it.
But the great part of that week was on Sunday morning when the minister for the week (don’t remember his name) stood and said he had been praying for us this week. He believed that those who came were brought by God. His message this week was on the scripture on the Armour of God from Ephesians. This was before we used the lectionary or had any communication to direct us to these scriptures. I had simply been lead through the Spirit as a result of his prayers for me and others. It was a powerful testimony to me during a time when I needed that help of God’s knowledge of my situation and my needs. I sat bathed in the warmth of that Spirit, praising and thanking God.
David says in the Psalms (somewhere), “I was young and now I am old and I have not seen the righteous forsaken.” Lately, I have been feeling old. I don’t really claim to be righteous except through Christ’s blood, but I can say, like David, that I have never been forsaken.
This morning I am remembering a time that was such a spiritually high time for me in my life. For Terry’s internship we moved to a little duplex outside of Jefferson City, Missouri. I was pregnant with Jamie and it was the year Matt started kindergarten. Terry was seldom home. He seldom had any time off, working 12-14 hour days, though I do remember him going to church with me some. We were blessed with a marvelous church family. Some spiritual “giants” went to that church, very strong in faith and people who were consistently praying, studying scripture and serving others through community and church. It was a pleasure every time we went. I remember crying a lot in that church maybe because I felt the freedom to cry because people were so supportive. I sometimes crave being there again.
This morning I remember especially one time when I felt lead all week to study in Ephesians, the section on the armor of God, “Finally brothers, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power. Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh but against the rulers, against the authorities against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, so that you will be able to withstand on that evil day, and having done everything to stand firm. Stand therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. With all of these take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. Pray in the Spirit at all times in every prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert and always persevere in supplication for all the saints…”6:10-18
It was a beautiful week studying this scripture. I remember especially being drawn to the part about the flaming arrows of the evil one because I felt like that was happening to me through negative thoughts. Each time I had a bad thought I would think of a shield of faith going up to block it.
But the great part of that week was on Sunday morning when the minister for the week (don’t remember his name) stood and said he had been praying for us this week. He believed that those who came were brought by God. His message this week was on the scripture on the Armour of God from Ephesians. This was before we used the lectionary or had any communication to direct us to these scriptures. I had simply been lead through the Spirit as a result of his prayers for me and others. It was a powerful testimony to me during a time when I needed that help of God’s knowledge of my situation and my needs. I sat bathed in the warmth of that Spirit, praising and thanking God.
This morning I am remembering a time that was such a spiritually high time for me in my life. For Terry’s internship we moved to a little duplex outside of Jefferson City, Missouri. I was pregnant with Jamie and it was the year Matt started kindergarten. Terry was seldom home. He seldom had any time off, working 12-14 hour days, though I do remember him going to church with me some. We were blessed with a marvelous church family. Some spiritual “giants” went to that church, very strong in faith and people who were consistently praying, studying scripture and serving others through community and church. It was a pleasure every time we went. I remember crying a lot in that church maybe because I felt the freedom to cry because people were so supportive. I sometimes crave being there again.
This morning I remember especially one time when I felt lead all week to study in Ephesians, the section on the armor of God, “Finally brothers, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power. Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh but against the rulers, against the authorities against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, so that you will be able to withstand on that evil day, and having done everything to stand firm. Stand therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. With all of these take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. Pray in the Spirit at all times in every prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert and always persevere in supplication for all the saints…”6:10-18
It was a beautiful week studying this scripture. I remember especially being drawn to the part about the flaming arrows of the evil one because I felt like that was happening to me through negative thoughts. Each time I had a bad thought I would think of a shield of faith going up to block it.
But the great part of that week was on Sunday morning when the minister for the week (don’t remember his name) stood and said he had been praying for us this week. He believed that those who came were brought by God. His message this week was on the scripture on the Armour of God from Ephesians. This was before we used the lectionary or had any communication to direct us to these scriptures. I had simply been lead through the Spirit as a result of his prayers for me and others. It was a powerful testimony to me during a time when I needed that help of God’s knowledge of my situation and my needs. I sat bathed in the warmth of that Spirit, praising and thanking God.
Terry's anniversary
Dec. 12. 43 years ago today was a day when Terry made a small mistake. He stepped out in front of an oncoming car. He was selling holly for scouts and was on his way back home, walking. He looked up highway 291, nothing coming so he watched another car coming the other way. When it passed, without looking back up the road, he trotted across, right in front of a car that was speeding down the highway. Some people who watched said he was knocked over a telephone wire but that sounds far fetched. It knocked him 66 feet down the road, right out of his tennis shoes! His Dad said he heard the screech and he knew. Judy, his Dad and Mike ran for the road. His Mom was getting groceries. Mike went to tell her after the ambujlance left. The big pool of blood on the concrete was still there when he came home 3 months later. That frightening experience, seeing their son and brother sprawled out on the highway ended at the hospital. It just "happened" that there was an ambulance cruising up the road on 23rd st. It just "happened" that all the specialists he needed to do all it took to help him survive "happened" to be at the hospital that Saturday.
He doesn't remember anything of that day but his family remember that they almost lost him. At one point Judy said the line on the machine started to be a flat line and she yelled, "T". He seemed to jump and they had him back. His Dad said it was a terrible thing to watch. He had to hold Terry's head as they stiched up his head. He said he got faint when they drilled the hole in his leg to put the pin to hold the traction unit in place. He woke up that night about 10 with a bandage on his head and iv fluid and blood going into his body. His right eye was swollen shut. All the white of his eye was red. He was in the icu for 3 days. He lost about a week in his clear memory. Terry spent that Christmas in the hospital. He had his own little tree, a special red smock that we still put out at Christmas and a little man we hang over our table. He was in the hospital for 6 weeks and then in a body cast for 2 months. His parents set up a bed in the living room where he could watch TV. They changed their work schedules so someone could be home with him all the time. He did his studies at home. Karen Dyer was a teacher who came in to teach biology and math.
When I began to date Terry at college he spoke of that time. He would talk about his football games before the accident, detailing plays like it was play by play action. I could hear the enthusiasm in his voice. People told me later how good he was. An amazing athlete. He was all set to be a coach someday. Suddenly, this 14 year old boy's dreams were shattered. Yet, I never heard in his voice disappointment or sadness. He told me his life was changed in a good way by that event. With all those experiences he began to see the value in becoming a doctor. His dreams changed as he watched doctors care for him. A new vision was set in motion, not because he was unable to be the strong athlete he was before. Because he saw that other things were more important.
I remember sitting one autumn evening under a tree at Graceland talking. He asked me why I came to Graceland and I asked him the same question. We both agreed. We came to get our degrees and we came to find someone to spend our lives with who shared our beliefs.
Today, we were talking about a trauma someone in our town was experiencing. Terry said, "One moment, one mistake can change your life, either for good or bad. It's your choice." At first I thought he was being callous and I thought, "Easy for you to say!" Then I realized he knew exactly what he was talking about. He chose to make it a positive thing. He followed his dreams and became a doctor as a result of the "bad" thing that happened to him.
Happy anniversary Terry! I hope when you remember on your anniversary, you do 2 things: 1. You thank God for directing your life. and 2. You feel proud that you made something good out of one of the most difficult times in your life.
He doesn't remember anything of that day but his family remember that they almost lost him. At one point Judy said the line on the machine started to be a flat line and she yelled, "T". He seemed to jump and they had him back. His Dad said it was a terrible thing to watch. He had to hold Terry's head as they stiched up his head. He said he got faint when they drilled the hole in his leg to put the pin to hold the traction unit in place. He woke up that night about 10 with a bandage on his head and iv fluid and blood going into his body. His right eye was swollen shut. All the white of his eye was red. He was in the icu for 3 days. He lost about a week in his clear memory. Terry spent that Christmas in the hospital. He had his own little tree, a special red smock that we still put out at Christmas and a little man we hang over our table. He was in the hospital for 6 weeks and then in a body cast for 2 months. His parents set up a bed in the living room where he could watch TV. They changed their work schedules so someone could be home with him all the time. He did his studies at home. Karen Dyer was a teacher who came in to teach biology and math.
When I began to date Terry at college he spoke of that time. He would talk about his football games before the accident, detailing plays like it was play by play action. I could hear the enthusiasm in his voice. People told me later how good he was. An amazing athlete. He was all set to be a coach someday. Suddenly, this 14 year old boy's dreams were shattered. Yet, I never heard in his voice disappointment or sadness. He told me his life was changed in a good way by that event. With all those experiences he began to see the value in becoming a doctor. His dreams changed as he watched doctors care for him. A new vision was set in motion, not because he was unable to be the strong athlete he was before. Because he saw that other things were more important.
I remember sitting one autumn evening under a tree at Graceland talking. He asked me why I came to Graceland and I asked him the same question. We both agreed. We came to get our degrees and we came to find someone to spend our lives with who shared our beliefs.
Today, we were talking about a trauma someone in our town was experiencing. Terry said, "One moment, one mistake can change your life, either for good or bad. It's your choice." At first I thought he was being callous and I thought, "Easy for you to say!" Then I realized he knew exactly what he was talking about. He chose to make it a positive thing. He followed his dreams and became a doctor as a result of the "bad" thing that happened to him.
Happy anniversary Terry! I hope when you remember on your anniversary, you do 2 things: 1. You thank God for directing your life. and 2. You feel proud that you made something good out of one of the most difficult times in your life.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Convicted
I'm reading a book called Love and Respect. It's a marriage book and reminds me often to be more respectful of Terry. It's a pretty convicting book and today it reminded me of another part of my time when Matt and Nathan were small. Susan was the only one I talked to much during those first 2 years of med school. She was busy with her little ones too though so mostly it was over the phone. Once we tried to go out together and both Nathan and Bryan screamed at the top of their lungs as we tried to talk over them. Finally we just both burst out laughing. It was not fullfilling! One particular day I was really frustrated with Terry. I started sharing my frustrations with Susan on the phone. Every time I would say something negative she would share with me something from Terry's perspectrive. Finally I just hung up on her! But as I stomped around the house angry now at Susan as well as Terry her words began to slowly seep into my brain. I remembered how Grandma Pyfer used to tell me not to criticize someone unless I had walked in their shoes a mile. By the time Terry came home I had a new perspective. I think Sisters are the best gift in the world. Husbands too.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
nostalgia
If ever there was a vivid memory in my life it is the first two years of Nathan's life. It was a time of extremes. On the one hand, those first 3 or 4 months was a terrible depression. Terry was stressed, having tests every 5 weeks and so fearful of failing. And I was trying to work part time at a pre-school in Independence, wanting to be home all the time. We didn't have a babysitter who we knew very well. One of Terry's classmates' wife had just had her second child and we she offered to babysit. I would pick up Matt and Nathan and their diapers would be literally falling off because she didn't know how to put them on right. She was a good and kind person and I knew they were safe but I would leave them off and cry all the way to work many mornings because I hated to leave them. Susan told me if I wouldn't have had so much guilt I would have been fine. Maybe she was right. But I was not able to do that and I finally decided it was too much. I felt very divided and couldn't get over the feeling.
The job was a good learning experience for me. I taught the 3 and 4 year olds and I still remember some of them. I had to get tough and still be tender.
By Christmas Terry and I had found out we could get help from Vocational Rehab because of his leg being shorter than the other one. We also got help that we could pay back year for year by working in an area of need so we got a stipend every month and money for school. So after that I could stay home. It took me, however, most of that year to begin to climb out of that depression. I remember feeling like I was in a dark whole that I couldn't climb out of.
One day Terry took the kids to his parents house and I had a rare moment alone. I was working on some cleaning job and was horrified when I realized I did not want them to come back. I wanted out! And as I was thinking that, the words from the bible came to me, "Let this cup pass from me." Through the spirit I knew that Jesus understood my feelings. He too had wanted out. I felt a peace I hadn't felt for a long time.
In the middle of all of that, there were times of extreme joy. Each day I took the boys for a walk, pulling the wagon with Matt in the back with his arms around Nathan. I loved those walks. Sometimes Matt would forget to hold Nathan and Nathan loved to watch the wheels go around and he would fall on his head. I would get after Matt and it would work for awhile. Pretty soon we got the hang of it.
We lived in "little Italy" in Kansas City about 4 blocks from the school where Terry went. We had great neighbors but the surrounding area was not so good. It was a mofia area and 2 times people were shot within blocks of our house. Hooded men went into a bar at the end of our street and shot someone. Another time in a yard just over one street from us.
But I never felt unsafe. Maybe my need to be outside overrode my need for safety!
This was also a time when Terry and I grew closer. We had more time for us. We had been surrounded by friends and now we had no couple friends. We were across town from family and didn't go there often. We had wonderful times of intimacy and talks by our fireplace.
The boys were so precious and fun to be with. Everywhere we went people told us how cute they were. They would play together all day, so creative and funny. Matt would say, "Bye, Mom."
"Where are you going now?"
"Los Degos" or "Cali-fornia"
They built homes and trains and cars with blocks and toys. Our "dining room" was their play room and they were constantly creating.
Once I quit work I was in heaven home with my boys.
The job was a good learning experience for me. I taught the 3 and 4 year olds and I still remember some of them. I had to get tough and still be tender.
By Christmas Terry and I had found out we could get help from Vocational Rehab because of his leg being shorter than the other one. We also got help that we could pay back year for year by working in an area of need so we got a stipend every month and money for school. So after that I could stay home. It took me, however, most of that year to begin to climb out of that depression. I remember feeling like I was in a dark whole that I couldn't climb out of.
One day Terry took the kids to his parents house and I had a rare moment alone. I was working on some cleaning job and was horrified when I realized I did not want them to come back. I wanted out! And as I was thinking that, the words from the bible came to me, "Let this cup pass from me." Through the spirit I knew that Jesus understood my feelings. He too had wanted out. I felt a peace I hadn't felt for a long time.
In the middle of all of that, there were times of extreme joy. Each day I took the boys for a walk, pulling the wagon with Matt in the back with his arms around Nathan. I loved those walks. Sometimes Matt would forget to hold Nathan and Nathan loved to watch the wheels go around and he would fall on his head. I would get after Matt and it would work for awhile. Pretty soon we got the hang of it.
We lived in "little Italy" in Kansas City about 4 blocks from the school where Terry went. We had great neighbors but the surrounding area was not so good. It was a mofia area and 2 times people were shot within blocks of our house. Hooded men went into a bar at the end of our street and shot someone. Another time in a yard just over one street from us.
But I never felt unsafe. Maybe my need to be outside overrode my need for safety!
This was also a time when Terry and I grew closer. We had more time for us. We had been surrounded by friends and now we had no couple friends. We were across town from family and didn't go there often. We had wonderful times of intimacy and talks by our fireplace.
The boys were so precious and fun to be with. Everywhere we went people told us how cute they were. They would play together all day, so creative and funny. Matt would say, "Bye, Mom."
"Where are you going now?"
"Los Degos" or "Cali-fornia"
They built homes and trains and cars with blocks and toys. Our "dining room" was their play room and they were constantly creating.
Once I quit work I was in heaven home with my boys.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Nathan
Terry and I wanted to have two boys close in age. I never used any birth control and never had any periods between Matt and Nathan. When Matt was about 7 months old I got preganant. We were very happy but others made negative comments about the wisdom of having 2 so close in age. Both Mom and Kathy Sacry encouraged me though. They were definitely for close in age kids. When I called Terry's Mom she said, "You're kidding!" (negative tone)
I had a good pregnancy. I'm sure I had the usual symptoms but don't remember much. I did get very sick with bronchitis. I refused to take any medicine or even go to the doctor at first. When I finally gave in he told me I was near pneumonia. He was angry with me and told me I probably did more damage to the baby by not taking medicine that if I had. Of course I felt awful. I quickly recovered after that.
I also had lots of allergy problems with both boys and since I couldn't take anything had a constant sneezing dripping time. It was during Nathan's pregnancy that I became allergic to cats and I have been ever since.
I gained 30 pounds with Nathan, the most I ever did. I couldn't tie my shoes so Terry did it for me. The doctor figured I was due about the end of May so Mom and Diane came the end of May, stayed 2 weeks and went home. Then Terry's parents came for 2 weeks and left. Then Karen Woods (now Garber) came 2 weeks and then left. (During that time Grandpa Carroll died. I couldn't leave as it was June and Nathan was due any day! I heard about the funeral. All my siblings were pall bearers and on the way to the cemetary the processon went through a cattle drive. Grandpa loved cattle drives so we thought that was neat.)
I must have thought Nathan would never come because on July 11 I was in charge of Church school worship, Terry was preaching and I was in charge of a baby shower for someone else. Our friends took over and we went to the hospital. I got up early and finished a cake for the shower between contractions.
Dr. Yardy assured me that this one would be easier. I was all loosened up now and things would be fine. He went on vacation that Saturday and Nathan was born on Sunday afternoon. The doctor who took over for him was an OB. I did fine until the pushing came. I said to Terry at one point, "Kill me. Don't let anything happen to this baby but just kill me." It was a hard day for him. I could hear the doctor down at the end saying things like, "Yeah that Yardy told me this would be an easy one. She'd already had a big one to make the way." and "Come on Buttcus(sp?) get out of there." (Terry explained later that Dick Buttcus was a large football player.) Nathan had the cord around his neck and the doctor had to use forcepts like Matt. He looked a little better than Matt did when he came out. Not a long an narrow head, just a smaller hematoma and red eyes. He had a large head and was 8#13oz. He was so developed that his fingernails had grown over the end of his fingers and they made him wear little mits to keep him from scratching himself. He was a beautiful baby, so round and quiet and even then he seemed gentle. I remember holding him in the delivery room but not feeding him. He didn't seem hungry. His cry was more pathetic than mad. Like Matt if he cried hard he would pass out, even in the delivery room. It must have been an emotional time for me. Unaware of post partum depression, I sat in the sits bath and cried wondering why I felt sad. The next day I went home and in a week we moved to Kansas City where Terry started medical school.
Children were not allowed then to come into the hospital so Terry brought Matt to the hospital and I looked at him out the window and waved to him down below. He seemed so big.
I had wondered if I could love another child the way I loved Matt. I was amazed at how instantly I loved this child. Terry's parents took Matt to Independence and we left the next day. Nathan was in a little bassinet and as we prepared to leave, saying good-bye to all our dear friends, I started to close the door without picking him up. Bill Gardner still teases me about almost forgeting my child in Illinois. Looking back I think it must have been a very emotional time for me. Loosing Grandpa, our friends, moving, having 2 children close in age, the trauma of the delivery. But at the time I just remember being focused on my children's welfare. Worrying about being separated from Matt and centering on Nathan's needs. We left a home of great joy, spiritual learning, lots of friends - a very simple life. I had no idea what lay ahead!
I had a good pregnancy. I'm sure I had the usual symptoms but don't remember much. I did get very sick with bronchitis. I refused to take any medicine or even go to the doctor at first. When I finally gave in he told me I was near pneumonia. He was angry with me and told me I probably did more damage to the baby by not taking medicine that if I had. Of course I felt awful. I quickly recovered after that.
I also had lots of allergy problems with both boys and since I couldn't take anything had a constant sneezing dripping time. It was during Nathan's pregnancy that I became allergic to cats and I have been ever since.
I gained 30 pounds with Nathan, the most I ever did. I couldn't tie my shoes so Terry did it for me. The doctor figured I was due about the end of May so Mom and Diane came the end of May, stayed 2 weeks and went home. Then Terry's parents came for 2 weeks and left. Then Karen Woods (now Garber) came 2 weeks and then left. (During that time Grandpa Carroll died. I couldn't leave as it was June and Nathan was due any day! I heard about the funeral. All my siblings were pall bearers and on the way to the cemetary the processon went through a cattle drive. Grandpa loved cattle drives so we thought that was neat.)
I must have thought Nathan would never come because on July 11 I was in charge of Church school worship, Terry was preaching and I was in charge of a baby shower for someone else. Our friends took over and we went to the hospital. I got up early and finished a cake for the shower between contractions.
Dr. Yardy assured me that this one would be easier. I was all loosened up now and things would be fine. He went on vacation that Saturday and Nathan was born on Sunday afternoon. The doctor who took over for him was an OB. I did fine until the pushing came. I said to Terry at one point, "Kill me. Don't let anything happen to this baby but just kill me." It was a hard day for him. I could hear the doctor down at the end saying things like, "Yeah that Yardy told me this would be an easy one. She'd already had a big one to make the way." and "Come on Buttcus(sp?) get out of there." (Terry explained later that Dick Buttcus was a large football player.) Nathan had the cord around his neck and the doctor had to use forcepts like Matt. He looked a little better than Matt did when he came out. Not a long an narrow head, just a smaller hematoma and red eyes. He had a large head and was 8#13oz. He was so developed that his fingernails had grown over the end of his fingers and they made him wear little mits to keep him from scratching himself. He was a beautiful baby, so round and quiet and even then he seemed gentle. I remember holding him in the delivery room but not feeding him. He didn't seem hungry. His cry was more pathetic than mad. Like Matt if he cried hard he would pass out, even in the delivery room. It must have been an emotional time for me. Unaware of post partum depression, I sat in the sits bath and cried wondering why I felt sad. The next day I went home and in a week we moved to Kansas City where Terry started medical school.
Children were not allowed then to come into the hospital so Terry brought Matt to the hospital and I looked at him out the window and waved to him down below. He seemed so big.
I had wondered if I could love another child the way I loved Matt. I was amazed at how instantly I loved this child. Terry's parents took Matt to Independence and we left the next day. Nathan was in a little bassinet and as we prepared to leave, saying good-bye to all our dear friends, I started to close the door without picking him up. Bill Gardner still teases me about almost forgeting my child in Illinois. Looking back I think it must have been a very emotional time for me. Loosing Grandpa, our friends, moving, having 2 children close in age, the trauma of the delivery. But at the time I just remember being focused on my children's welfare. Worrying about being separated from Matt and centering on Nathan's needs. We left a home of great joy, spiritual learning, lots of friends - a very simple life. I had no idea what lay ahead!
First and Second Grade
I was one of three students entering first grade at Cardwell Grade school when I was 6 and a half. Gay Armstrong, Barbara Ballard and myself. (Susan was one of three also and when someone asked her about her class she said she was second to the dumbest!) Gay and Barbara were cousins and I never thought they liked me. (Barbara told me later in high school when we were friends that she didn't like me because I would always come with my granparents to the cemetary looking all beautiful with long golden curls and a dress on and she was there in her grubs.) I don't remember playing with anyone or caring if I did. The life I enjoyed was at home and I could go there after school. I did like school and did well. I only remember the wonderful smell of learning. The Dick and Jane books. I loved to learn and loved to please the teacher. First and second grade were in the same room and I believe Mrs. Crian was my teacher. We got to have a carton of milk after recess in the morning and one person was chosen to go get it each day. Each blue plastic carrier was full of just the right amount of cartons with only a few chocolates. We had to take turns having chocolate. I LOVED it when my turn came both to pass out the milk and to have a chocolate. Sometimes we got to be picked to clean off the chalk boards with a special longer eraser that made it look nice and clean. I remember that Norman Tebay wet his pants during class one day. I can still see his pee slowly running across the hardwood boards toward my desk. I felt a mixture of sadness for him and horror that he would do such a thing. At Christmas time one of those years Mrs. Crian sang, "O Holy Night." Her voice was incredible and perhaps I had never heard an operatic type voice because the feeling in my chest as she sang is clear to me even now. I sat in my chair transfixed.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Firsts
It is certainly true that most parents do not love any of their children more than the other. It is also true that there is nothing like your first. I don't love Matt more but I remember more the "firsts." Listening to the first heart beat; feeling the first movement; the first time he kicked Terry in the back when we were sleeping like spoons; the first time I looked at OUR child; the first time he sucked; the first time I got covered with poop. And I remember the wheres like people remember where they were the day Kennedy was shot. Daisy Matthews, our pastor's wife gave him his first bath. (though she said he wasn't very dirty!); Matt rolled over for the first time on Jim and Cindy Woodly's floor on a braided rug covered by his blanket. He sucked on a straw for the first time at a McDonalds when we were traveling. His first step in our living room at 8 months. The first time he had a tummy ache and Terry counted the times he walked him around the table in our dining room. His first laugh when I sneezed. The first time I left him with someone and was gone for an hour. His first birthday as he and Katie sat beside each other in high chairs with their cupcakes and made a mess. The first time I gave him a ride in the back of my 3 wheeled bike. His first day of kindergarten when the bus forgot to leave him off. The first time you realize he is his own person, quite apart from you. His first kiss. His first mistake. His first day at college. His first love.
The umbilical cord is cut but it is like there will always be an invisible cord connecting you even after death. I have come to believe that same cord connects us each to God. It's hard to imagine a God that big. Amazing enough to stay connected to billions of people age to age. Maybe that's why we sometimes stop believing. It seems so impossible. So beyond our capacity to understand. I suppose that would be why we call God, God.
The umbilical cord is cut but it is like there will always be an invisible cord connecting you even after death. I have come to believe that same cord connects us each to God. It's hard to imagine a God that big. Amazing enough to stay connected to billions of people age to age. Maybe that's why we sometimes stop believing. It seems so impossible. So beyond our capacity to understand. I suppose that would be why we call God, God.
Matt
It was 1974. We had been married almost 5 years. We had been living in Columbia, Missouri. Terry had just finished his respiratory therapy degree there and he had accepted a position at Parkland Junior College in Champaign, Ill. as an instructor.
Time to have a child? I wasn't sure I was ready. Terry was excited and I figured it was time. So we went off the pill that I had been taking since we got married.
We went off in May and moved the end of the month. June 1 we were in Urbana (twin city to Champaign)and I felt awful. I "knew" I was pregnant. Terry was sceptical. He thought the whole thing about women being sick was ridiculous. I was TIRED like no other tired. My breasts hurt, everything made me nauseous. A no brainer! I think then we had to go to the doctor to find out. No quick tests. And then the news came. We were going to have a baby! Terry's whole attitude changed. He was gentle, caring, sympathetic. And excited!
The sickness didn't last too long. The tiredness stayed. I am embarassed to remember that we went to a party at someone's home for his work. Maybe Christmas time. After some visiting (which I hated), I was so tired I went into the bedroom where all the coats were on the bed, scooted them over and went to sleep. I didn't care what anyone thought.
We lived in a 3 bedroom, fairly large apartment that was attached to our church there. Our home was the center of activity alot. There were 7 young couples who we did things with. Especially the Gardners, Bill and Barb. All the couples had a baby that year. We were first and Lynn and Christy Misselt were the last. The Gardners baby, Katie, was born 3 months after Matt in May. What a fun and exciting time! Being the first to deliver, everyone was watching and waiting and excited for our delivery.
On February 25th, early in the morning I felt rotten. My whole lower stomach hurt.
I went to the bathroom and was standing at the door of our bedroom. Terry woke up and asked me what was wrong as I leaned against the doorpost.
"I feel awful. My stomach hurts."
Excitedly, "Maybe you are starting labor!"
Angerly, "I am not in labor. I'm 2 weeks early!"
"How do you know? Lets time it."
Reluctantly, "It just hurts all the time. OK."
Sure enough. 10 minutes apart. (I didn't think it was supposed to hurt this much.)
We called the doctor and he told us to go to the hospital. For some reason that walk to our old rickety garage is a vivid picture.
At the hospital we found out I was only dialated to a 1. But because I was in so much pain they kept me. It was about 7 in the morning. Sometime later they started a drip to get me going. I have no wonderful, glorious feelings about that day.
We had taken lamaze classes but I felt so unprepared. I never screamed. Just alot of moaning. They gave me demoral(sp?) once but it only made me sleep until the contractions and then I was not mentally prepared for the next contraction.
Terry was by me constantly. He never even left to eat. At one point he gently patted my hip and said I would be alright. I kicked him. He and the nurse laughed and it made me mad.
Finally it was time to push. In lamaze they told me this part was usually about 3 minutes. It took forever! At one point I passed out and they had to revive me.
Another thing I remember is Terry pushing on my stomach trying to help. They used forcepts.
When Matt finally arrived around 7 in the evening,Terry thought he was dead so he put his body between my face and Matt. When I finally saw him his head was long and narrow, eyes black and blue and he had a large hematoma on his head on top.
I remember thinking I should love this child or be excited or something. Instead I was just hoping they would take him away so I could sleep. His apgar score was very low at first but then by the morning it was ok.
I was black and blue to my knees which made my mother furious - at someone!
Dr. Yardy had been a missionary doctor who had delivered many babies in the "bush."
He was used to women suffering.
Matthias Vernon Reiff was 8#2oz.
The next morning I was able to be happy and thankful for my little boy. In fact, I was thrilled! We had wavered between Todd and Matthias. Matthias was a family name in the Reiff family. Vernon after Terry's Dad.
Our friends came two at a time, most of them pregnant, to visit me. I went home the next morning because we had no insurance. It cost us about $2000.
Mom, Dad, Diane, Randy, Terry's parents and Judy all came to stay for a week.
I spent most of that time in bed.
I remember Matt sleeping in the cradle at the end of our bed. One time I was needing something and Mom came to see if she could help. I appreciated her but I wanted Terry. Before Matt was born my loyalty seemed to always be with my family of origin but going through that with Terry changed all that. I felt connected to Terry in a new way. We were a family.
Time to have a child? I wasn't sure I was ready. Terry was excited and I figured it was time. So we went off the pill that I had been taking since we got married.
We went off in May and moved the end of the month. June 1 we were in Urbana (twin city to Champaign)and I felt awful. I "knew" I was pregnant. Terry was sceptical. He thought the whole thing about women being sick was ridiculous. I was TIRED like no other tired. My breasts hurt, everything made me nauseous. A no brainer! I think then we had to go to the doctor to find out. No quick tests. And then the news came. We were going to have a baby! Terry's whole attitude changed. He was gentle, caring, sympathetic. And excited!
The sickness didn't last too long. The tiredness stayed. I am embarassed to remember that we went to a party at someone's home for his work. Maybe Christmas time. After some visiting (which I hated), I was so tired I went into the bedroom where all the coats were on the bed, scooted them over and went to sleep. I didn't care what anyone thought.
We lived in a 3 bedroom, fairly large apartment that was attached to our church there. Our home was the center of activity alot. There were 7 young couples who we did things with. Especially the Gardners, Bill and Barb. All the couples had a baby that year. We were first and Lynn and Christy Misselt were the last. The Gardners baby, Katie, was born 3 months after Matt in May. What a fun and exciting time! Being the first to deliver, everyone was watching and waiting and excited for our delivery.
On February 25th, early in the morning I felt rotten. My whole lower stomach hurt.
I went to the bathroom and was standing at the door of our bedroom. Terry woke up and asked me what was wrong as I leaned against the doorpost.
"I feel awful. My stomach hurts."
Excitedly, "Maybe you are starting labor!"
Angerly, "I am not in labor. I'm 2 weeks early!"
"How do you know? Lets time it."
Reluctantly, "It just hurts all the time. OK."
Sure enough. 10 minutes apart. (I didn't think it was supposed to hurt this much.)
We called the doctor and he told us to go to the hospital. For some reason that walk to our old rickety garage is a vivid picture.
At the hospital we found out I was only dialated to a 1. But because I was in so much pain they kept me. It was about 7 in the morning. Sometime later they started a drip to get me going. I have no wonderful, glorious feelings about that day.
We had taken lamaze classes but I felt so unprepared. I never screamed. Just alot of moaning. They gave me demoral(sp?) once but it only made me sleep until the contractions and then I was not mentally prepared for the next contraction.
Terry was by me constantly. He never even left to eat. At one point he gently patted my hip and said I would be alright. I kicked him. He and the nurse laughed and it made me mad.
Finally it was time to push. In lamaze they told me this part was usually about 3 minutes. It took forever! At one point I passed out and they had to revive me.
Another thing I remember is Terry pushing on my stomach trying to help. They used forcepts.
When Matt finally arrived around 7 in the evening,Terry thought he was dead so he put his body between my face and Matt. When I finally saw him his head was long and narrow, eyes black and blue and he had a large hematoma on his head on top.
I remember thinking I should love this child or be excited or something. Instead I was just hoping they would take him away so I could sleep. His apgar score was very low at first but then by the morning it was ok.
I was black and blue to my knees which made my mother furious - at someone!
Dr. Yardy had been a missionary doctor who had delivered many babies in the "bush."
He was used to women suffering.
Matthias Vernon Reiff was 8#2oz.
The next morning I was able to be happy and thankful for my little boy. In fact, I was thrilled! We had wavered between Todd and Matthias. Matthias was a family name in the Reiff family. Vernon after Terry's Dad.
Our friends came two at a time, most of them pregnant, to visit me. I went home the next morning because we had no insurance. It cost us about $2000.
Mom, Dad, Diane, Randy, Terry's parents and Judy all came to stay for a week.
I spent most of that time in bed.
I remember Matt sleeping in the cradle at the end of our bed. One time I was needing something and Mom came to see if she could help. I appreciated her but I wanted Terry. Before Matt was born my loyalty seemed to always be with my family of origin but going through that with Terry changed all that. I felt connected to Terry in a new way. We were a family.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
love
I did not love Terry when we got married. I loved the way he was always clean and neat and the way he smelled each day when we met. I loved his passion for life and enthusiasm. I loved his openness. I loved his love for me.
But I did not love him. I didn't even know what love meant.
I married him based on three ideas. I wanted to marry someone who shared my faith. I would not marry anyone who drank. And I knew whoever I married would be my partner for life. No matter what. The rest was attraction.
But I did not know that there would be times I would wonder why I made that decision. I did not know there would be times I would believe he was selfish, mean, ignorant and the worst person in the world. I didn't know love was about working to understand why he acted that way so I could truely love him. About praying for him when I would rather hit him.
I did know (believe) that God was faithful to His promises. One promise was that God says He will not let us be tempted without giving us a way to be free from that temptation. So when I was tempted to give up, God brought me a book, a friend to listen to me and advise, a class to take. And I grew and changed.
I believedGod would always be a faithful partner in my marriage. And God has always been.
I have lived my life based on scripture. When things have been rough, I have read, prayed, worked to keep my relationship good with God. And God has always been faithful.
This morning and many mornings,I have laid in bed with tears in my eyes. Tears of gratitude that God gave me this good man to marry. I have offered up so many prayers of thanksgiving - daily - that this is the man I chose.
This man who has prayed with me for my children, cried with me when we have suffered loss, held me and listened to my worries,this man who chooses to learn how to be a better husband and then puts it into practice. I am so grateful for this man who will read with me good books. For a man who comes humbly to me, seeking my forgiveness, not because it's easy but because he believes God wants him to do it.
This man who almost every day tells me I am his best blessing. This man who has provided for me so I could be a stay at home Mom and so I could volunteer to serve God in ways that doesn't bring in money.
God knew what love was and that if I put my trust in Him, I would love this man and I would be more happy than I could imagine.
Terry heard me tell my mother yesterday that I loved having the Christmas tree up early because then when I have my prayer time in the morning I could read by the lights. This morning Terry got up early to go to his men's group. When I got up the tree lights were on, waiting for me. He knew I would love that and I did.
God is so faithful.
But I did not love him. I didn't even know what love meant.
I married him based on three ideas. I wanted to marry someone who shared my faith. I would not marry anyone who drank. And I knew whoever I married would be my partner for life. No matter what. The rest was attraction.
But I did not know that there would be times I would wonder why I made that decision. I did not know there would be times I would believe he was selfish, mean, ignorant and the worst person in the world. I didn't know love was about working to understand why he acted that way so I could truely love him. About praying for him when I would rather hit him.
I did know (believe) that God was faithful to His promises. One promise was that God says He will not let us be tempted without giving us a way to be free from that temptation. So when I was tempted to give up, God brought me a book, a friend to listen to me and advise, a class to take. And I grew and changed.
I believedGod would always be a faithful partner in my marriage. And God has always been.
I have lived my life based on scripture. When things have been rough, I have read, prayed, worked to keep my relationship good with God. And God has always been faithful.
This morning and many mornings,I have laid in bed with tears in my eyes. Tears of gratitude that God gave me this good man to marry. I have offered up so many prayers of thanksgiving - daily - that this is the man I chose.
This man who has prayed with me for my children, cried with me when we have suffered loss, held me and listened to my worries,this man who chooses to learn how to be a better husband and then puts it into practice. I am so grateful for this man who will read with me good books. For a man who comes humbly to me, seeking my forgiveness, not because it's easy but because he believes God wants him to do it.
This man who almost every day tells me I am his best blessing. This man who has provided for me so I could be a stay at home Mom and so I could volunteer to serve God in ways that doesn't bring in money.
God knew what love was and that if I put my trust in Him, I would love this man and I would be more happy than I could imagine.
Terry heard me tell my mother yesterday that I loved having the Christmas tree up early because then when I have my prayer time in the morning I could read by the lights. This morning Terry got up early to go to his men's group. When I got up the tree lights were on, waiting for me. He knew I would love that and I did.
God is so faithful.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Thanksgivings
My favorite Thanksgivings were at Grandma and Grandpa Sacrys. Grandma would let Susan and I help her set the table. I loved it. I never felt like she was worried we'd mess up but she was careful to show us how it was done with the fork on the left, napkin underneath, the spoon and knife on the right. We got to fill the coctail glasses with shrimp with sauce over the top; the glasses with ice for the water or juice and the fruit glasses with a fruit salad or jello. We'd put butter on plates and salt and pepper shakers on. When she served the meals the table was overflowing. We all joke about her "side dish" because we always had to have one and I'm not sure now what it was. If the mashed potatoes got too low she'd go out and start peeling and make more potatoes in the pressure cooker. There were always left overs. I remember more about the preparation than the actual meals. It seems like there was lots of laughter and fun. We all loved being together. I think there was lots of teasing too. The meal ended with Grandma's cranberry pudding with sauce over it. Or other desserts like pumpkin pie. Her butterhorn rolls were the best. Everything was good. The kids ate in the kitchen most of the time at the kitchen table. That was a fun place to be too. But as we got older we loved being with the adults. When the meal was over we kids would go outside and play while the women cleaned up. I don't recall what the men did. I never even thought about it being unfair. I'd still rather be inside with the ladies all working together, visiting and being together.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Loved
Struggling with my faith. In fact, seeming to have none. Believing sometimes that God is not involved and when God is, He sits in judgement of me because I'm not too good at obedience. Finding myself empty and wanting to be more obedient but discouraged. I decide to memorize some scripture. The one I chose would help me with obedience:
As for mortals, their days are like grass.
They flourish like a flower in the field;
For the wind passes over it and it is gone,
and it's place remembers it no more.
But the steadfast love of the Lord is from
everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him.
And his righteousness to children's children.
To those who keep his covenant
And remember to do his commandments. Psalms 103:15-18
Driving down the road, working on the verse I come to the part,
"and it's place remembers it no more."
And suddenly I remember.
Another time when I was discouraged. Walking into
the dark morning of my living room. I see lights in the valley.
I realize that our home is also one of those lights.
And that someday, someone else will own our light, and
we will be gone from this earth.
I ask (not expecting an answer), "What is my value? If I
am here today and then gone. What difference does it all make?"
More clearly than any words I have ever received,
"Your only value is in the love I have for you."
Both then and now. I realized I was not valued because of all the
things I do. Like the value of a child in the eyes of her/his parents,
I am simply loved because I am God's child.
I feel hope like I have not felt in a very long time.
I remember that I obey because I am loved, not loved because I obey.
Today, I feel like singing, praising. Thank you, God.
As for mortals, their days are like grass.
They flourish like a flower in the field;
For the wind passes over it and it is gone,
and it's place remembers it no more.
But the steadfast love of the Lord is from
everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him.
And his righteousness to children's children.
To those who keep his covenant
And remember to do his commandments. Psalms 103:15-18
Driving down the road, working on the verse I come to the part,
"and it's place remembers it no more."
And suddenly I remember.
Another time when I was discouraged. Walking into
the dark morning of my living room. I see lights in the valley.
I realize that our home is also one of those lights.
And that someday, someone else will own our light, and
we will be gone from this earth.
I ask (not expecting an answer), "What is my value? If I
am here today and then gone. What difference does it all make?"
More clearly than any words I have ever received,
"Your only value is in the love I have for you."
Both then and now. I realized I was not valued because of all the
things I do. Like the value of a child in the eyes of her/his parents,
I am simply loved because I am God's child.
I feel hope like I have not felt in a very long time.
I remember that I obey because I am loved, not loved because I obey.
Today, I feel like singing, praising. Thank you, God.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Rain
Though Grandpa struggled with his faith, I think of him as a man of faith. I remember once he shared with us that he wanted to obey God and not work on Sunday. The hay was ready to be put up and it was due to rain. All his neighbors were working all Sunday to get the haying done but he decided he shouldn't. Monday it rained. He said it rained all around him but it didn't rain on his crops. I know sometimes he worked on Sunday and I know God does not always bless us by changing the weather to suit our desires, but I believe, and Grandpa believed, God gave him that blessing to strengthen his faith and reward him for his righteousness.
Driving the car
When I was an early teen my Grandma Cora always let me drive when we went anywhere together. I didn't have my license. One day, going over the cattle guard, out the front gate from the Ranch I got too close to the right side of the gate and took off the strip from her car. I frieked! I felt so bad! She acted like nothing had happened, "That's ok, don't worry about it," She calmly said. It was the last I heard about it.
It's the middle of the night and I can't sleep. I had 3 cups of caffeine today. When I am awake in the night I pray God will help me not drink caffeine, but, yesterday, I was driving to the little place where they make wonderful Vanilla Chai.
I wanted that Chai. I could just taste it and reasoned that I allow myself one cup a week. I thought about prayer as a way to not drink it but I didn't allow that thought to stay. In fact, I hardened my mind against thoughts of even checking in with God. I did not want Intervention at that moment!
This morning as I started to pray again about my caffeine enjoyment, I couldn't because I knew I would just do it again. I talked to God about how I could listen better to God's leadings. And I remembered something I had heard from Apostle Sukini years ago. He was from Japan and had many thoughts on mind control. He told us we should be, as Christians, like when we first learn to drive a car. You know how, as you know how to drive well you go on automatic? Sometimes you can drive through town with thoughts other places and don't even remember the trip? But as a new driver, your attention is always riveted right on the road. That's what our goal should be toward God. To keep our attention always on God's will. To constantly be drawing on the Holy Spirit for guidance, assurance, grace, understanding, and, yes, for help in resisting temptation.
And even though God is like Grandma and forgives us instantly and completely, I want to have integrity in my prayer life, doing my part to make it happen.
It's the middle of the night and I can't sleep. I had 3 cups of caffeine today. When I am awake in the night I pray God will help me not drink caffeine, but, yesterday, I was driving to the little place where they make wonderful Vanilla Chai.
I wanted that Chai. I could just taste it and reasoned that I allow myself one cup a week. I thought about prayer as a way to not drink it but I didn't allow that thought to stay. In fact, I hardened my mind against thoughts of even checking in with God. I did not want Intervention at that moment!
This morning as I started to pray again about my caffeine enjoyment, I couldn't because I knew I would just do it again. I talked to God about how I could listen better to God's leadings. And I remembered something I had heard from Apostle Sukini years ago. He was from Japan and had many thoughts on mind control. He told us we should be, as Christians, like when we first learn to drive a car. You know how, as you know how to drive well you go on automatic? Sometimes you can drive through town with thoughts other places and don't even remember the trip? But as a new driver, your attention is always riveted right on the road. That's what our goal should be toward God. To keep our attention always on God's will. To constantly be drawing on the Holy Spirit for guidance, assurance, grace, understanding, and, yes, for help in resisting temptation.
And even though God is like Grandma and forgives us instantly and completely, I want to have integrity in my prayer life, doing my part to make it happen.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Grandpa in bed
One wonderful memory was when I was pretty small. I'm not sure how old or how often this happened. We spent the night sometimes with Grandpa and Grandma Sacry. We would climb into bed with Grandpa in the morning. Grandmpa would bring us a tray full of coffee. Of course, if was not much coffee: about a 4th coffee, half milk and a 4th sugar. Then we would sit on the bed and drink it with Grandpa and Grandma.
When I remember this I feel delightful laughter.
One day Grandpa and Grandma were in bed. He always kept a pistol in a holster on the bedpost where he could reach it. He said, "Cora, hold still." He laid his weak arm over her and shot. The mouse that had been sitting on the top of his dresser fell into her open underware drawer. Boy was she mad! It was a good story we all laughed about for years. Even Grandma laughed later.
The hardest part of Grandpa in bed was when he was sick. I knew from earlier stories that Grandpa had almost died before. I don't know how many times. Once with a perferated ulcer. He said when his fever was so high he dreamed of the creek up the South Boulder canyon and had a hard time passing that stream without stopping to get a drink for years after. Toward the end of his life we would come home for vacations. One time especially, I thought he would die before I returned. He was very sick and I was told he might not live. But, he had escaped death so often that no one ever knew for sure. I would gently kiss and hug him, feeling and smelling this man I loved so fiercely as he laid in his bedroom. Then climb in the car and cry alot of the trip home. And he would live. And I was glad. I still feel his presence in the front bedroom of the Ranch house.
When I remember this I feel delightful laughter.
One day Grandpa and Grandma were in bed. He always kept a pistol in a holster on the bedpost where he could reach it. He said, "Cora, hold still." He laid his weak arm over her and shot. The mouse that had been sitting on the top of his dresser fell into her open underware drawer. Boy was she mad! It was a good story we all laughed about for years. Even Grandma laughed later.
The hardest part of Grandpa in bed was when he was sick. I knew from earlier stories that Grandpa had almost died before. I don't know how many times. Once with a perferated ulcer. He said when his fever was so high he dreamed of the creek up the South Boulder canyon and had a hard time passing that stream without stopping to get a drink for years after. Toward the end of his life we would come home for vacations. One time especially, I thought he would die before I returned. He was very sick and I was told he might not live. But, he had escaped death so often that no one ever knew for sure. I would gently kiss and hug him, feeling and smelling this man I loved so fiercely as he laid in his bedroom. Then climb in the car and cry alot of the trip home. And he would live. And I was glad. I still feel his presence in the front bedroom of the Ranch house.
Carroll Forest Sacry
I learned from Grandpa Sacry that people are not "good" or "bad" but a mixture of both. I learned it, not because he said it for both he and Grandma Sacry spoke often of the "good guys" and the "bad guys" as if you could spot their color by seeing them walk down the street. (appearance really did seem to have a lot to do with it!) I know it because Grandpa was such an enigma himself. I can't imagine another person so full of qualities I respect and qualities I hate. And yet, to think of him brings such lonesomeness and longing to have him back that I can hardly stand it. When he died in 1976, for the first time I NEEDED to know about heaven and hell. For a long time I pretended he was just up in the pasture so I could handle his death. I wanted to know I would see him again.
Grandpa was "crippled" most of his life. I knew him first walking with a cane. But most of the time I knew him in a wheel chair sitting in the kitchen by the wood stove, in his silk sheeted bed or driving his truck. I can still feel the stubble of his beard on his cheeks, how it felt to kiss his lips (we were all lip kissers then), the soft squishy lump at the end of his elbow and his very bony arms and legs. Mostly, I felt warm and loved in his presence.
Grandpa was mean sometimes but I never remember him being anything but kind and loving to me. To share about my life without sharing about him would be impossible. He was my namesake and I always felt connected to him. I can remember the feeling of my chubby little legs toddling down the sidewalk between my first home about 50 yards from where he and Grandma always lived when I knew them. They looked forward to our coming (Dennis, Susan and I). Iknew it by the warm welcome we always received. We seemed to be the joy of their lives.
I understand that now that I have Grandchildren. It is largely because of them that Iknow how to Grandparent.
I realize I am not following my theme of enigma. It's because there is so much I want to share about Grandpa. I think I will post all week about him.
The mean part. One day all of us kids were told to pick rock out of the upper field. I was sick so I just rode in the truck with Grandpa. The others were in the field. Sitting there with the sick stomach I heard Grandpa scowling and complaining about Jim being lazy and not working very hard. I was very close to Jim and watching Jim with my sick stomach I realized that he was sick too. Grandpa rolled down the window and began yelling at him about being lazy and telling him to work harder. Right then, Jim fell over. I can't remember anything else about that day.
Another time Grandma and Grandpa were babysitting us when we were about 10 and 12. Grandpa was in the wheel chair in his dining room. He was mad at Jim and took his cane that was hooked on the wheel chair side and started whacking Jim with it. Jim grabbed the can and started hitting him back. I was in agony believing Grandpa was inappropriate but loving him fiercely and loving Jim too.
Looking back, I realize so much of the "mean" stuff Grandpa did, he did out of his own weakness and feeling out of control. There were so many things he couldn't do. Like put Jim in "time out." And how he had to rely on others to do his work and even get him out of bed for the day. When Dad was first married he worked for Grandpa on the ranch. He said it was hard to get any money out of Grandpa and he finally had to go into electrical work just so he could be free from that stress. Grandpa went through the depression doing everything he could to make ends meet.
I remember him constantly in new pursuits, buying and selling pigs, antiques (he had his own store for years), fruit, etc. And he was known as "stingy" all ofhis life.
He was a gentle man. It seemed he constantly had company because he loved to have people visit. Coming to the Ranch meant being able to visit with Grandpa. People would sit in the kitchen and talk for hours. And I would listen. He could argue without causing tension. Missionaries who came through made sure to have time for him. People came to hunt alot. He would go with them, driving them up into the hills and shooting (and hitting) out the front window. I can still see him hoisting the rifle tothe window, barely able to lift it as his muscular distrophy got worse.
He got out of bed every day unless he was really sick. He always wanted to go to town (Whitehall or Butte). He was a people person and didn't let his disabilities stop him.
Grandpa was "crippled" most of his life. I knew him first walking with a cane. But most of the time I knew him in a wheel chair sitting in the kitchen by the wood stove, in his silk sheeted bed or driving his truck. I can still feel the stubble of his beard on his cheeks, how it felt to kiss his lips (we were all lip kissers then), the soft squishy lump at the end of his elbow and his very bony arms and legs. Mostly, I felt warm and loved in his presence.
Grandpa was mean sometimes but I never remember him being anything but kind and loving to me. To share about my life without sharing about him would be impossible. He was my namesake and I always felt connected to him. I can remember the feeling of my chubby little legs toddling down the sidewalk between my first home about 50 yards from where he and Grandma always lived when I knew them. They looked forward to our coming (Dennis, Susan and I). Iknew it by the warm welcome we always received. We seemed to be the joy of their lives.
I understand that now that I have Grandchildren. It is largely because of them that Iknow how to Grandparent.
I realize I am not following my theme of enigma. It's because there is so much I want to share about Grandpa. I think I will post all week about him.
The mean part. One day all of us kids were told to pick rock out of the upper field. I was sick so I just rode in the truck with Grandpa. The others were in the field. Sitting there with the sick stomach I heard Grandpa scowling and complaining about Jim being lazy and not working very hard. I was very close to Jim and watching Jim with my sick stomach I realized that he was sick too. Grandpa rolled down the window and began yelling at him about being lazy and telling him to work harder. Right then, Jim fell over. I can't remember anything else about that day.
Another time Grandma and Grandpa were babysitting us when we were about 10 and 12. Grandpa was in the wheel chair in his dining room. He was mad at Jim and took his cane that was hooked on the wheel chair side and started whacking Jim with it. Jim grabbed the can and started hitting him back. I was in agony believing Grandpa was inappropriate but loving him fiercely and loving Jim too.
Looking back, I realize so much of the "mean" stuff Grandpa did, he did out of his own weakness and feeling out of control. There were so many things he couldn't do. Like put Jim in "time out." And how he had to rely on others to do his work and even get him out of bed for the day. When Dad was first married he worked for Grandpa on the ranch. He said it was hard to get any money out of Grandpa and he finally had to go into electrical work just so he could be free from that stress. Grandpa went through the depression doing everything he could to make ends meet.
I remember him constantly in new pursuits, buying and selling pigs, antiques (he had his own store for years), fruit, etc. And he was known as "stingy" all ofhis life.
He was a gentle man. It seemed he constantly had company because he loved to have people visit. Coming to the Ranch meant being able to visit with Grandpa. People would sit in the kitchen and talk for hours. And I would listen. He could argue without causing tension. Missionaries who came through made sure to have time for him. People came to hunt alot. He would go with them, driving them up into the hills and shooting (and hitting) out the front window. I can still see him hoisting the rifle tothe window, barely able to lift it as his muscular distrophy got worse.
He got out of bed every day unless he was really sick. He always wanted to go to town (Whitehall or Butte). He was a people person and didn't let his disabilities stop him.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Journey
When I go to the Ranch I feel at home. I walk the creek and I know each rise and fall of the earth. All my senses come alive as I smell the smells I have known all my life; hear the silence like no other place I have been. Each place I see can bring up a memory from my past, both good and bad, but mostly good. The place I grew up. The place I learned and understood. And each time I return it seems like even the rocks can talk and tell me how far I have come and, sometimes, why I have come on this journey. The Ranch brings with it the peace of "knowing"
myself better.
I wonder sometimes where and when my spiritual journey began. Was it as I played with lambs and other animals and lived close to nature? Was it as I listened to Grandpa Carroll struggle with his faith? Was it when I overheard him talking on the 9 party line with his friend Harold about if it was possible to not lust after women? Was it when I sensed his fear of Hell? Was it as I listened to the many missionaries who stopped at the Ranch and shared their experiences of God answering their prayers in marvelous ways? Was it as I sat around Grandpa's living room, basking in the presence of the Holy Spirit as my family and others prayed and shared testimony? Was it the faith I saw and continue to see in my Mother as she went about her life believing, confident God is with us?
I remember being in church when it was at the town hall, willing with all of my heart, to focus my attention of the words being shared from the pulpet. Wanting, above all else, to know and understand God. Even in high school when others were intent on their activities or boys (not that I didn't also enjoy these!), my greatest desire was to please God, understand God's ways, do God's will. I thought when I was grade school age that I might be a nunn. Not realizing, of course, that it was not an occupation that was consistant with the church I attended. I just knew that these women had an inside track to what I wanted most.
When I was driving home one night after a date with my "first Love" he told me he believed i was "the one" the girl he would marry. I told him that if God told me to marry someone else, then I would. He didn't like that very well. He thought I was crazy. But I believed God would lead me. And God did.
Looking back, I wonder why I was so intense about this. Why did I, early on, desire God so much?
myself better.
I wonder sometimes where and when my spiritual journey began. Was it as I played with lambs and other animals and lived close to nature? Was it as I listened to Grandpa Carroll struggle with his faith? Was it when I overheard him talking on the 9 party line with his friend Harold about if it was possible to not lust after women? Was it when I sensed his fear of Hell? Was it as I listened to the many missionaries who stopped at the Ranch and shared their experiences of God answering their prayers in marvelous ways? Was it as I sat around Grandpa's living room, basking in the presence of the Holy Spirit as my family and others prayed and shared testimony? Was it the faith I saw and continue to see in my Mother as she went about her life believing, confident God is with us?
I remember being in church when it was at the town hall, willing with all of my heart, to focus my attention of the words being shared from the pulpet. Wanting, above all else, to know and understand God. Even in high school when others were intent on their activities or boys (not that I didn't also enjoy these!), my greatest desire was to please God, understand God's ways, do God's will. I thought when I was grade school age that I might be a nunn. Not realizing, of course, that it was not an occupation that was consistant with the church I attended. I just knew that these women had an inside track to what I wanted most.
When I was driving home one night after a date with my "first Love" he told me he believed i was "the one" the girl he would marry. I told him that if God told me to marry someone else, then I would. He didn't like that very well. He thought I was crazy. But I believed God would lead me. And God did.
Looking back, I wonder why I was so intense about this. Why did I, early on, desire God so much?
finding peace
I think the dark mornings are my most difficult hurdle. If I can even get up to turn on a light I feel better. This morning I got up, ate, did my lesson for Bible Study and then went outside.
It's a wonderful fall day. Stepping out the door brought me joy. I knew I needed to move so I began getting in wood, emptying the ashes, compost, peelings to the cows. Walking in the leaf covered grass was nice. After a half hour of work I sat in the swing and listened. Peaceful.
Noise behind me and I saw several small birds in the lilac bush. Watching them was so centering. "In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God. All things were made by Him and without Him was not anything made that was made." Words from John made me wonder how God knew what we would love. Or if God created us to love the creation.
It's a wonderful fall day. Stepping out the door brought me joy. I knew I needed to move so I began getting in wood, emptying the ashes, compost, peelings to the cows. Walking in the leaf covered grass was nice. After a half hour of work I sat in the swing and listened. Peaceful.
Noise behind me and I saw several small birds in the lilac bush. Watching them was so centering. "In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God. All things were made by Him and without Him was not anything made that was made." Words from John made me wonder how God knew what we would love. Or if God created us to love the creation.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Abba
This morning I woke up grumpy. I think it's because of a little white dog moving around in the night but I can't swear to it. Anyway, when I got up to have my prayer time (needed it!), I thought how I wanted to just be close to God. Sometimes I'm tired of asking God for this and that and to help my kids and all my requests. So this morning I decided to just breathe in and out the word, "Daddy." which is the meaning of Abba. Jesus called God "Abba." I started doing that and it was delightful. Like coming to a loving, accepting, wise and caring Father who loves me no matter what and knows me better than I know myself. I realized I could just bring all my problems to Him (though part of the time I thought about it being, "Mommy" and that was nice too.) So I was talking to "Daddy" about how I was upset about something and then I began to laugh because some of my problems sounded so silly. And I could sense God laughing with me. Not at but with. I did share some of my fears and worries, not wanting God to fix but just wanting to share with my "Daddy." It was a delightful time. I didn't want it to end even when I had to leave.
Some people believe it's not appropriate for us to call God our Father since so many people have rotten fathers and they can't get away from that image when they pray to a heavenly father. My Dad is not perfect but he listens good. He cares about my well being. He hates to see me hurting. He makes me feel loved and special. He's gentle and kind. Maybe that's why I can pray like I did this morning. Dad's a good Dad to unload on and so is God.
One of my greatest blessings is knowing I am a blessing to my parents. I wonder if I am a blessing to God? I hope so.
Some people believe it's not appropriate for us to call God our Father since so many people have rotten fathers and they can't get away from that image when they pray to a heavenly father. My Dad is not perfect but he listens good. He cares about my well being. He hates to see me hurting. He makes me feel loved and special. He's gentle and kind. Maybe that's why I can pray like I did this morning. Dad's a good Dad to unload on and so is God.
One of my greatest blessings is knowing I am a blessing to my parents. I wonder if I am a blessing to God? I hope so.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Growing old
When I was about Jr. High age I noticed that Mom had a place on her arm that was kind of wrinkley. It was right below her armpit. The rest of her arm was smooth and pretty but that part was different. I don't remember not liking it. I just remember thinking that she was getting "old." Now I have that same thing on my arm. And because she had it first I have a kind of mixed emotion. I love it because it's a connection with her but I don't like the thought of being "old." The same is true of the spots on the back of my hands. I love every part of Mom. It would be impossible to think about those spots in any other way but just a connection with her. She is my Mother and my hero. I watched those hands as they lovingly put lotion on each baby. I loved their strength as she kneaded bread, fixed lunches, pounded meat, burped babies, fed the clothes through the wringer washer, stirred cream of wheat... I don't remember a time when her hands were not important to me. In fact, a few years ago I found out about a place where they would make models of people's hands and since then I've wanted to do that with my parents.
In 1995, when I had my brain surgery and my face looked funny I realized that people don't really love you because of how you look as much as how you live, how you love. And I began thinking about the most important people to me. I've stopped thinking about their physical characteristics. They seem beautiful to me regardless of how they might be viewed by society.
And the longer they are in my life, the more beautiful they become. The more I love to be with them. In fact, I notice that I am especially drawn to their odd characteristics, like bulging eyes or long nose. It's what makes them who they are.
It's still hard to look older. I'm vain and I don't like getting wrinkles or grey hair. But it takes the edge off when I realize that I am loved, not for what I look like but what I love like. If I'm loving I will be more beautiful every day.
In 1995, when I had my brain surgery and my face looked funny I realized that people don't really love you because of how you look as much as how you live, how you love. And I began thinking about the most important people to me. I've stopped thinking about their physical characteristics. They seem beautiful to me regardless of how they might be viewed by society.
And the longer they are in my life, the more beautiful they become. The more I love to be with them. In fact, I notice that I am especially drawn to their odd characteristics, like bulging eyes or long nose. It's what makes them who they are.
It's still hard to look older. I'm vain and I don't like getting wrinkles or grey hair. But it takes the edge off when I realize that I am loved, not for what I look like but what I love like. If I'm loving I will be more beautiful every day.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
"Home"
The bright sun sparkles off the snow topped mountains. The crisp wind blows the orange and brown leaves around the yard. I love fall time. I love being outdoors. I love where I live most when it is full of people, especially little people. Well, ok, when my children and grandchildren are home. I love working outside with Terry and smelling the way he smells when he's outdoors. Even though this is a beautiful place, I don't love it because it's a beautiful place. I love it because of the memories it has and because of the hope that more memories will be made. Most of the time lately I don't care if I come home. And that bothers me. It's comfortable, yes. But it does not bring me joy. Mostly it just seems empty.
When my Mom moved from the Ranch and went to KC and my Dad moved and married Marlene I thought my home was gone. But then I visited Mom in KC and I felt home again. Her apartment was "her" and I felt safe and loved.
For a long time the Ranch felt only painful. Like looking at an old scrap book, remembering a time of happiness and joy and wondering if it would ever be there again.
I don't remember when the Ranch became important to me again as a place of refuge. I find myself wanting to live there again. Some of it is just nostalgia I suppose. but some of it is so that I can make it a home again, a place where my children can enjoy having fun with their grandchildren. My little toddler/preschool/schoolage/adolescent legs know each part of that "home." I loved playing in the creek, catching tadpoles, riding horses, playing with calves and lambs, catching chickens, drawing houses in the dirt, pretending they were my house when I grew up. Hiking and driving into the hills, climbing trees, catching the bus. Picking apples, chokecherries, sweet peas. Riding in the back of the truck, climbing on the haystacks, chasing animals with sticks and stones. Following sticks as they floated down the creek. Wading.
I know what it is to live and play freely. I want that for my grandchildren.
But, ultimately, home is not about a place. It's about being loved, feeling free, feeling a connection with others you love. It's about feeling "safe." For me, the Ranch was a place where I was surrounded by people who loved me immensely. The same space could mean just the opposite to someone else.
I always thought when I grew older I would love to live in a small 2 bedroom home in town. Like Grandma Pyfers, Grandma McDades, and other old women I knew who always had cookies waiting and were always glad I came by.
One of my nieces told her Mother once that she didn't feel "welcome" in her own home. She was only about 3 at the time and her Mother knew it was about how critical and crabby she (Mom)had been lately.
The house I lived in when I grew up was just pretty ordinary. All of us kids in 2 bedrooms. I never thought once about it not being ok. It didn't matter that it was less than spacious and perfect. In fact, having it that way made it more perfect because we could be closer together. We had to learn to share. We had to touch. We learned to love and grow together.
At my age I am thinking more and more about my Eternal Home. I have wanted to go there all my life. I never feel as welcome as I do when I feel bathed in the "Holy Spirit". I think the place where Jesus lives will be like that, welcoming, loving, full of grace and truth. A sense of belonging. If only we could all go at once so good-byes would not be so hard.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Having a daughter
Since I have just been with Terra, my mind is on her and on the gift of daughters. This relates to my growing up. In our family, there was a boy, Dennis Keith ( Aug. 6,1948; girl, Susan, Sept.20, 1949 and then me, Carol Ann, Jan 27, 1950. Then, for a long time there were boys: James Dale, Aug 15, 1952; Randy Lee, Sept 13, 1954; Kenneth Floyd, Nov.30, 1956; Kerry Lon, Sept 12, 1961; Brian Todd, March 21, 1963. Each time Mom went to the hospital we would be at Grandma and Grandpa Sacry's house and we'd get the call and it was another by and everyone would say, "Well, boys are nice." And they were not only nice, but adored! I came from a family that LOVED little kids. Babies were always a blessing. Mom looked her best when pregnant and Dad never treated her more sweetly than when she was pregnant. And they both delighted in children. My most wonderful memories were of the little kids. Our lives centered around the adorable things they said, the cute ways they looked, the hugs and kisses. This was true of our immediate family and also all of our extended family.
There did develop along the way, however, a great desire for another girl. So when I was 17 and Jim was 15 and we were in highschool Mom was going to have a c-section and it seemed the whole school knew it. The date was March 2, 1967. We were in study hall when over the intercom the secretary asked if Jim and Carol Ann Sacry would please come to the office. The study hall came alive and many started to go with us. The study hall teacher told everyone to sit back down and we rushed to the office. It was there we learned that Diane Marie was born! As we entered the hall (the bell had just rang) and the news spread. People were yelling, "Sacrys had a girl!" It was an unforgetable moment for us. That evening we went to the hospital to see her. She was a darling girl with lots of hair and beautiful LONG eyelashes. We were so proud.
I was thinking about that when I was with Terra last week. And, for the first time, I wondered if my excitement over her being a girl was connected to those years waiting for another Sacry girl? When I was pregnant with Terra I wanted a girl badly. I had wanted to start with 2 boys. I loved having Kerry and Brian as little brothers close in age and I wanted 2 sons like them. But I really wanted a girl too. One day when I was quietly praying, I felt sure that I was going to have a girl. Sure, but with a little doubt. Could it really be true? So, when, in the delivery room I found out that I had a girl, I was elated! I kept saying, "It's a girl! It's a girl! It's a girl!" Terry said, "I didn't know you wanted a girl so bad." I will never forget when they put her up on my stomach and she began nursing eagerly. I felt somehow complete.
And when Terra was able to have twin girls I also felt a part of something bigger. My Grandma Cora had twin girls aborted when the doctor told her she couldn't carry them without hurting herself. Cousin Carla had twin girls who died a week before their due date in her uterus. And my brother, Kerry had twin girls. I wanted her to have twin girls too. But it seemed too good to be true. It was a great joy to have that thrill for my daughter.
There did develop along the way, however, a great desire for another girl. So when I was 17 and Jim was 15 and we were in highschool Mom was going to have a c-section and it seemed the whole school knew it. The date was March 2, 1967. We were in study hall when over the intercom the secretary asked if Jim and Carol Ann Sacry would please come to the office. The study hall came alive and many started to go with us. The study hall teacher told everyone to sit back down and we rushed to the office. It was there we learned that Diane Marie was born! As we entered the hall (the bell had just rang) and the news spread. People were yelling, "Sacrys had a girl!" It was an unforgetable moment for us. That evening we went to the hospital to see her. She was a darling girl with lots of hair and beautiful LONG eyelashes. We were so proud.
I was thinking about that when I was with Terra last week. And, for the first time, I wondered if my excitement over her being a girl was connected to those years waiting for another Sacry girl? When I was pregnant with Terra I wanted a girl badly. I had wanted to start with 2 boys. I loved having Kerry and Brian as little brothers close in age and I wanted 2 sons like them. But I really wanted a girl too. One day when I was quietly praying, I felt sure that I was going to have a girl. Sure, but with a little doubt. Could it really be true? So, when, in the delivery room I found out that I had a girl, I was elated! I kept saying, "It's a girl! It's a girl! It's a girl!" Terry said, "I didn't know you wanted a girl so bad." I will never forget when they put her up on my stomach and she began nursing eagerly. I felt somehow complete.
And when Terra was able to have twin girls I also felt a part of something bigger. My Grandma Cora had twin girls aborted when the doctor told her she couldn't carry them without hurting herself. Cousin Carla had twin girls who died a week before their due date in her uterus. And my brother, Kerry had twin girls. I wanted her to have twin girls too. But it seemed too good to be true. It was a great joy to have that thrill for my daughter.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
I believe
I believe in God, the creator of eveything, the mystery, beyond my understanding. I believe God's greatest desire is for His/Her Love to be returned. Relationship. That God is like a huge ball of love, desiring us to open to that Love but will not enter us without our permission.
And I believe in Jesus Christ who is God come to earth for us. A gift so that we understand God better. And that the Cross is the greatest part of that mystery that is Jesus. The greatest part of that mystery for us is that Jesus showed that God loves us and showed us God's solidarity with us in suffering and even death. And in life ever after.
And I believe in the Gift of the Holy Spirit, my first Love. That bears testimony to Jesus Christ and God the Son and that through that Spirit we have life abundantly, and beautifully even in the worst of situations. And I believe that Holy Spirit binds us together as a human family in ways not possible through anything else. She redeems, cleanses, brings joy and peace. Through that Spirit we are able to forgive and be free from the sins that separate us from each other and from God.
And through that Spirit we are given communion and community with any and all of God's children if we choose.
And I believe in Jesus Christ who is God come to earth for us. A gift so that we understand God better. And that the Cross is the greatest part of that mystery that is Jesus. The greatest part of that mystery for us is that Jesus showed that God loves us and showed us God's solidarity with us in suffering and even death. And in life ever after.
And I believe in the Gift of the Holy Spirit, my first Love. That bears testimony to Jesus Christ and God the Son and that through that Spirit we have life abundantly, and beautifully even in the worst of situations. And I believe that Holy Spirit binds us together as a human family in ways not possible through anything else. She redeems, cleanses, brings joy and peace. Through that Spirit we are able to forgive and be free from the sins that separate us from each other and from God.
And through that Spirit we are given communion and community with any and all of God's children if we choose.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Blog purpose
Hi from Carol Ann, Mom, Oma, etc.
I've decided that I want to have a blog because I think it's a great way to share my life story with my children and other family members who care. That way, if you have any questions before I die you might find the answer here and you might also find more questions that i can answer the next day. It will be very random, not chronolgical most of the time. Even if it's just a chance to express myself it will serve its purpose. I'd like to write every day, but... I know my inconsistancy and I don't need another thing to feel guilty about. So, we'll see. I love you all. Mom
I've decided that I want to have a blog because I think it's a great way to share my life story with my children and other family members who care. That way, if you have any questions before I die you might find the answer here and you might also find more questions that i can answer the next day. It will be very random, not chronolgical most of the time. Even if it's just a chance to express myself it will serve its purpose. I'd like to write every day, but... I know my inconsistancy and I don't need another thing to feel guilty about. So, we'll see. I love you all. Mom
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