Sand Through The Hourglass

As the lights blinked on in the laundry room, my gaze landed on the cracked plastic frame holding an old photo and a weathered postcard. Annika had been only a year old, almost twenty-five years ago now. It had been the first for her of many trips to a lake in Northern Minnesota. I would never forget that particular day. A frustrating day with a life-changing message from my dear grandmother-in-law.

***

The beach beckoned. There it was. I could see it, but would we ever reach it? It should have been a short walk from the rustic cabin; a curved path and about ten steps, a brief distance had I been unencumbered. I was, however, heavy laden. A foldout chair and a large backpack weighed me down. A blanket hung haphazardly over the chair. On either side of me waddled a one-year-old toddler and an eighty-year-old grandmother.

I scooped Annika into my right arm, moved the chair up around my left shoulder and grabbed Pella’s arm firmly with my left hand. 

Ok, I thought, at least a turtle’s pace is a slight improvement over the snail’s.

“Some vacation,” I muttered under my breath. The guys awoke at the crack of dawn and would be sunning and casting all day long. Sighing, I struggled to hold on to the squirming Annika. Pella stopped short. She had some trouble seeing the form of the steps. At least we had made it to the steps.

My heart constricted suddenly. Oh no, I had left the picnic basket at the cabin. Tears welled in my eyes. Water and crackers were the only form of sustenance in the backpack. There was no way to go back now. With a moan, I moved the group slowly down one more step.

Two limber teenagers hopped quickly around us, running and laughing into the water ahead. Honestly, it had taken them a full ten seconds to get there. Incredible! Had I ever been that young and carefree? The backpack was nothing compared to the weight in my heart at that moment.

Finally, we arrived at the last step. We moved ahead a few more feet as I lowered Annika to the sand, twisted to remove the chair, pulled it out for Pella and gently lowered her onto the seat.

Sighing again wearily, I laid down the blanket and wondered again about lunch.

Pella reached over and touched my shoulder.

“You’re missing it,” she said.

“What? Missing what?” I asked.

 “Missing the moment.”

“Grandma, what are you talking about? Is the sun too hot for you? I’m wondering if we need to head back to the cabin early for lunch. I forgot the picnic basket. Although I can’t imagine how I could have carried one more thing!”

“Honey, don’t worry so much. I remember how it feels to be a young mom. Your work is never done. But stop now. Smell the fresh air and breeze. Look at your beautiful daughter. Etch this in your mind forever.”

I turned and focused my attention on Pella, so frail and weak, with her head raised to the sun, eyes closed with a smile on her face.

There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere or maybe the shift took place only in my heart.

“Was it hard for you, too?” I asked softly.

“Oh I’m sure it was, dear. I know there were days when I would crumble into bed at the end of the day, wondering how I could do it all again the next. But you know, today, it all seems like a blessing. Those wild boys turned into fine young men. And now I treasure the memories of those days. I wish I had stopped more often to memorize the details, the sights and sounds. It all goes so very fast.”

The self-pity evaporated into the warm breeze. The crackers and water were sufficient as the sun shone on us for the next three hours. Annika fell instantly in love with the beach and the picture taken would become a favorite. Chubby legs, naked upper body, droopy diaper and a big pair of sunglasses. Sand clung to every inch of her including her hair, and she was giddy with joy.

And nothing seemed to bother the curly headed mom with the shovel in her hand and the goofy grin on her face as she looked down at her adorable little girl.

***

Reflecting on those long-ago beach memories, I realize the heavy laundry basket feels light today. I trace the outline of Annika over the plastic frame and then step outside, lowering the basket, lifting my head to the sun with a smile on my face.  I will call Annika in a little while, I think, as I hang the sheets on the line, and we’ll plan a trip to the lake. Tired moms of toddlers sometimes need a sudden shift in the atmosphere.

Her children rise up and call her blessed. Proverbs 31:28 (NKJV)

My Wife of 50 Years

For my wonderful, 92 year old father-in-law, Bert, one of my heroes.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”

Matthew 11:28

     I can’t find her in the place where she lives, my wife of 50 years, even though I try. I bring her clothes, make sure she’s clean and listen to the words I no longer understand. I can’t stay away and I can’t stay long.

     I return to the home we shared, she and I, and there I find her, my wife of fifty years. I find her in the scent of the vanilla perfume sitting on the mirrored tray. I find her under the quilt she so lovingly made, and I find her in the brush I use on my fine white hair. The same brush she used each day trying to manage the hair that never stayed just right.

     Her hair is the one thing that brings a rare smile as I say, “Honey, your hair looks pretty today.”

     I guess when you worry and fuss about something over an entire lifetime you never forget, even in a mind almost gone. And so I chuckle a little and I sniff, and I snuggle and I brush trying to find her, my wife of 50 years.

Dear Father in Heaven,

Comfort me in this time. Help me remember all of the wonderful years past with my spouse. I know you understand her and you understand me. Keep  us both safe in your care. Amen

Road Trips and Rocking Chairs

Even as a moonstruck newlywed, I was determined to work on our relationship as a couple. If and when we had kids, the two of us would always be front and center.
 

And then we had kids. Exhaustion hit and the business and busyness of raising two daughters left us little time to focus on one another. Our girls were three and five the year my husband turned forty. It was high time for a get-away weekend to rekindle our love. It would be a surprise.

 

His peers at work expected me early on a Friday afternoon to sweep him away to a cozy, clean cabin three hours north of where we lived in a suburb of Minneapolis. We would be greeted with a basket of goodies upon our arrival.

 

My husband looked bewildered as we exited his office building. I couldn’t wait to hear his response to my surprise.  He turned to me.

 

“Will we have a TV at this place?” he asked.

 

“Well…no, I don’t think so.” I replied warily.

 

A TV? I thought to myself; couldn’t he imagine a weekend away from everything with his bride? His next words hit me hard.

 

“It’s World Series time you know.”

 

Uh oh.

 

My plans to avoid rush hour traffic went by the wayside as we scurried home to retrieve a TV. After sitting in traffic for hours, we became lost in the darkness of the north woods of Minnesota.  Finally, after an extended time of circling the general vicinity, we spotted a small sign heralding our destination.

 

The tired looking attendant handed us our basket and our key.  Relief shone on my face as we unlocked the door to the cabin and it was everything I had imagined. Stepping in, I turned to the side to witness the love of my life’s reaction to the lively fire and the north woods atmosphere.

 

My romantic partner for the weekend was bent over plugging in his precious television set right next to the kindling fire.

 

There was absolutely no reception.

 

He looked at me, once again, in bewilderment, followed immediately by a look of panic. He moved quickly around the small sitting area and kitchen, into the bedroom, and returned with a small clock radio.  There were beads of perspiration on his forehead. Once again, he bent over with cord in hand.

 

And once again, no reception.

 

The look on his face moved from panic to hopelessness. We sat in the two comfortable rockers in an uncomfortable silence. My mind swirled. The anticipation, the hope, the romance of the long-awaited weekend came crashing down in confusion.

 

What would we talk about all weekend? What was I thinking? Where were the kids when you needed them?

I  suggested we just go to sleep and start fresh in the morning.

The next day dawned a crisp and clear October day. The view across the lake was spectacular, the trees a vibrant array of color. After a long trip to the nearest grocery store, we decided to go for a walk.

Finally, romance! We headed out hand in hand into the beauty of nature.

That’s when we heard the first shots.

 

“Oh no!” my husband exclaimed. “It’s hunting season! We better take cover.”

 

So much for our weekend away. We took another drive and went out for dinner. There was no sign of a sports bar. We left early Sunday morning.

There has been a wide assortment of mistakes made over what now spans twenty years of marriage. Some valuable lessons have been learned.  It is now understood we need to agree on a spot for a get-away. My girlfriends and I shake our heads at our clueless spouses when we spend the weekend at a cozy, clean cabin in the north woods. My husband and his buddies don’t give us a second thought as they huddle together in front of the large screen TV with the great reception.

Years ago, one of our daughters told us she liked to hear the sound of our voices when she was going to sleep. We bought two comfortable rockers of our own. And a tradition took hold for us to sit and talk when our daughters were tucked safely in their beds. Our voices soothed them. All was right with the world when they knew we were near.

Our times to talk have changed, along with the furniture and along with the season of our lives, but the tradition remains. Our current comfortable purple (yes I said purple!) rockers are wearing out fast. Our daughters go to bed long after we retire for the night.

We wait and listen for the sound of their voices as we are tucked into bed. And when we hear them, sometimes late at night, we know all is right with the world.

The uncomfortable silences of old have somehow turned into jewels of memory. That moonstruck honeymooner has grown up some from her somewhat naïve but always well-intentioned views.  And the often hard-learned lessons of marriage have matured into the well-worn comfort of a life together that has and will continue to stand the test of time.

And so, with laughter and tears, frustration and worry, with deep joy intertwined with deep sorrow, our lives have merged into one. The wonders of watching our daughters grow into beautiful young women cannot be easily expressed. We will continue to wait together as we listen for the sound of their voices, coming and going through the years to come.

In the meantime, we understand our need for time alone, just as we understand the need to be with friends. And our hands still reach for each other when we go for a walk. We are ready to take cover together when we hear the distant sound of danger and, along with good conversation, we can rock away the hours in a comfortable silence.

“For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife and the two will become one flesh.” Ephesians 5:31

Rambling Mind, Restless Body, Resurrected Heart

My life as a writer is viewed as curious by many. Lost in fictional characters, deep thinking and quiet days makes me, to the casual observer, melancholy and isolated. Most of my family and friends are out there, in the real world, on the outside, their lives filled with details and noise.

     My husband says,

“You think too much.”

     It’s true. My eccentric ways can be annoying. In the middle of a conversation a stray thought takes flight, traveling an unexplored path to a destination unknown. I blurt out a nonsensical remark.

     “Where are you? Weren’t we just talking about dad’s birthday party?”

 my husband asks.

     How do I explain? This chaotic mind is derailed at the slightest nudge. Forgotten missions left behind include open cupboard doors, light switches left in the “on” position, and delayed meals. It is certainly a challenge for my logical, left-brained husband, not to mention my two adolescent daughters.

     “Mom! I explained all of this yesterday! Why don’t you ever hear what I am saying? Ugh!” 

     Today, this rambling mind is going out. My mother-in-law is in last stages of real Alzheimer’s disease, not the type my family accuses me of having. 

     My brother, twenty-two years my senior, is in the last stages of a neurological disease that began in his toes. It has continued in upward motion until it now affects his speaking and swallowing.

     I imagine the two of them joined, mind and body, to make one whole human being.

     So today is a day for the real world. Today is a day for visiting the nursing homes.

     My body is restless, another consequence of the writer’s life. I go for a long walk and think about the day. As I return home, I drop to my knees in helplessness and hopelessness, wondering what to say to them. How can I help? How can we cope?

     There are no answers and I leave the questions with the one of my heart, Jesus. As I repeat His name over and over in praise, He answers my hopelessness with a resurrected heart. Body, mind and spirit are rejuvenated. I move out into the world with renewed energy and an eternal perspective beckoning hope.

     I read comforting Scripture from the book of Psalms to my mother-in-law. It calms both of us. Suddenly she says, “You are so beautiful.” It brings tears to my eyes. Other days, most days, she is filled with unrest and anxiety. I don’t believe she knows who I am, but I believe the Holy Spirit within both of us connects. It is a rare moment to treasure from one rabling mind to another.

     As I leave her side, I feel blessed. God can transform a situation in miraculous and unexpected ways. And I move on to my next stop.

     As I rub the good hand of my brother on his frozen and rigid body, I remember his born-again moment two years ago. My brother, Jim, has lived with depression for much of his life. He could not imagine a loving God in that dark world of his. But, as God often does, He brought a glimmer of light into the darkest of places, at just the right time

     As Jim’s body began to wear out, the right people appeared. There was the motorcycle-riding chaplain visiting the nursing home. He and Jim clicked. An old friend, motoring down the avenue in her wheelchair, came to see him with a Bible in her hand. There were the hymns sung on Sunday mornings. The hymns of old made him cry the tears that had never been shed.

     On a beautiful fall day, about two years ago, on his wife’s birthday, he met us with the incredible words, “ I have met Jesus. I am born again.”

     For these last two years, he has a peace and calm and humor about him not found in most of us. He is content and I marvel at the wonder and awe of this God of ours. And these restless bodies connect. I am grateful.

     Through His Spirit I am redeemed and resurrected. And so are they. So are they.

     Jesus knows the way through all of the suffering in this short life.  Rambling minds, both real and imagined, restless bodies aching for relief, become His as we are resurrected with Him now and eternally. One day with open minds and healed bodies we will see clearly, as His resurrection becomes ours forever.

However, as it is written, “What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived”-the things God has prepared for those who love him.

1 Corinthians 2:9 (NIV)

Happy Easter!

     This weekend, in addition to the Easter bunny and candy eggs, sit back in wonder and celebrate the good news of the empty tomb. Jesus offers the greatest gift ever given and all He asks is that we believe. All other religions take hard work, duty-filled prayer, endless obligations, finding a place of bliss through our own efforts, or believing we come back to life again and again before we get it right. I think it’s an impossible dream to believe we can work our way to God.

     God needed to come to us and He did, Jesus Christ, the Son of God, lived among us, suffered our sins on a cross, overcame hell and death and rose again. Believe and be saved. He is risen! He is risen indeed! Hallelujah!

Holy Week

     After darkness covered the globe as Jesus died, there came a day. A Sunday, one day above all others. The tomb is empty! He is not there. The first to see the empty tomb were the women, His followers. They loved Him so.

     Mary Magdalene was the very first person to see Jesus alive!

When Jesus rose early, on the first day of the week, He appeared first to Mary Magdalene, out of whom He had delivered seven demons. She went and told those who had been with Him and who were mourning and weeping.  Mark 16:9-10

     Women in the days of Jesus were looked at as less-than, below men in every way. Men were not even allowed to speak with them in public> Jesus, however, looked upon them with favor. He picks Mary, this woman previously filled with demons, to be the first missionary after His resurrection. He loves each one of us equally, each one of us uniquely, each one of us to be used for His purposes. Go tell. The tomb is empty. He lives!

Jesus,

Thank You for the witnesses that began the testimonies of Your love. So many witnesses saw You after You rose from the dead. And we see You today. Give us the wisdom to share the truth with others. You are alive! And we can live forever, too.

Amen

Holy Week

     The words of Jesus on the cross give us more insight into God's image, into His plan. We see His heart, His love, and His ability, even then, to see the resurrected hope to come.

When they came to the place called the Skull, they crucified Him there, along with the criminals-one on His right, the other on His left. Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”  Luke 23:33-34a

     One of the criminals mocked Jesus, the other one believed. That’s all. He just believed.  And Jesus said to him and He says to us as we live out our last breaths:

Jesus answered him, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with Me in paradise.” Luke 23;43

     And after all of the agonizing hours on the cross, as He suffered all of our sins on Himself:

When He had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that He bowed His head and gave up His Spirit. John 19:30

     Even then, on that horrible cross, He wants to forgive, He wants to promise heaven, He wants to offer hope. The Holy Spirit of the One and Only Son offers Himself as the final sacrifice. The Lamb of God, the one with the words of eternal life has overcame death and we are forgiven. If it finished. Amen