1 Year

Mason (my cousin) is 1 year old today.

I wrote about his birth last April. Click here to see that post.

It has been a fun year getting to know him and we look forward to many more!

April 26, 2012

April 26, 2013

Happy Birthday Mason!

13

My Wesley...

My son...

My boy...

...is 13 today.

Wesley is around 5' 8" now.

His feet just recently grew to a men's shoe size 10... the same size his dad wore.

So we pulled out his dad's shoes (which I had packed up to donate) for him to try on.

And his feet fit into most of his dad's shoes.

In many traditions, 13 is the age when a boy is considered a man.

But for my boy, he just naturally started stepping up to that position in so many ways when he was just 11 1/2...on the day his dad died.

In many traditions, 13 is the age when a boy is given much more responsibility.

But for my boy, he just naturally started shouldering it on his own.

And even though I've praised him for being "the man of the family," I've tried not to expect more of him than I would have before.

But for my boy, he just naturally started doing it.

Now I still have to remind him to take out the trash.

But that's okay - I had to remind his dad too!

In many traditions, 13 is an age to be celebrated.

And for my boy, that's exactly what I plan to do!

At Peace

I just got a phone call from my friend.

Her father, also my friend, died very peacefully over an hour ago.

I can only imagine his view now.

But ours is sad without him in it.

He is at peace.

But we must grieve.

"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble."

Psalm 46: 1

What Matters

I received a phone call this afternoon (Thursday) from a friend of mine.

She became a friend of mine when I was her preacher's wife.  And she was the parsonage committe chairman so I really got to know her well over the years.

She phoned me today to tell me that her daddy is dying.  And this woman, grown and married for over 20 years, told me that it gave her strength to know that my children know how she feels.  She's the second grown woman in the middle of a death of a parent who has told me that... that if they, as young children, can make it through it - so can she.

She also told me that something my late husband said a lot when he was her preacher has helped her through this very difficult time.  

I am good friends with her family too.

Her dad brought a cooler full of ice on the day Rob died and he kept refilling it every day for a week or so.

Her mother brought food and comfort.

Her father loves being a Ruritan.

Her mother loves snowmen.  When I looked for a Christmas gift for her, I tried to find snowmen items.

Her father loves to talk.

Details I know from getting to know them.  Details I know from being a part of their lives.

And them a part of mine.

That's what happens with friends.

I still remember the glistening tears in their eyes the first time I saw them after Rob's death.

I went to the Hospice Home tonight to see my friends.

And to wish him "farewell."

My friend who had called me was so happy that I came.

The visit with her dad was beautiful, peaceful, and even through the sound of his rattling lungs as he struggled to breathe, it was a visit full of grace.

And he still likes to talk.

He told me how good it was to see me.

He said he didn't want to go without seeing me - that he wanted to see all of his friends 

and I was one of them.

I told him that I was honored that he counted me as one of his friends he wanted to see before he left us.

He told me how much my late husband had meant to him and that Rob was "such a sweet man."

He told me that our family and our ministry meant a lot to him.

He told me he had thought about me and my children so much lately.

I told him Wesley will be 13 on Sunday.  He couldn't believe Wesley is that grown up.

We talked about how God will take care of his family and how sad he is to be leaving them.

He will be leaving behind a wife, a grown daughter and son-in-law, and a grown son.

We talked about death.  

We talked about what matters now - the love of God.  

I told him to tell Rob I said hello, that we miss him, and that we're doing okay.

And as we talked about Heaven, I told him I am a little jealous of him.  

He will get to be with Jesus soon and will get to see Rob and all of the other loved ones he knows who are already there.  He will be at peace.

It was tough to say goodbye knowing it might be the last time.  

He didn't want to let go of my hand - so I didn't let go either - and we talked a little longer.

I kept making him laugh with things I would say - which made it harder for him to breathe.

So I had to try to stop making him laugh - but it was good to see him smile.

And as I did say goodbye and that I love him, I told him I would try to get back to see him.

He grinned and said he would see me - either here or there.

I said, "That's right, I will see you one way or the other."

I watched his wife as I turned around and I saw in her eyes how tired she is - and how sad.

But I also saw strength.  And because I know her and because I know of her trust in God, I know she will survive.  And I know God will help her.

He had told them all (his sister, his wife, his daughter, and his son) that he wanted them to go home for the night so they were leaving.  None of them had eaten and they invited me to go with them to get some supper (it was almost 9 p.m.) and I went.  And even though it was in sad circumstances, it was good to be with them.  It was good to be there in their time of need and it was good to see them.

And on a personal note, it was good to be with church members who remember our ministry - people with whom I have a history - people who know me.  It was good to be with church members with whom I can reminisce about things my Rob said or did.  In fact, they were the ones who brought up his name first and because they miss him too- they reminisced right along with me instead of looking at me like they are tired of hearing it or that I really should be "over it" by now.

It was good to be with people to whom my presence mattered. 

Post Office

This is a personal message to a postal worker I know.

I just got home from the post office.

I had gone there to mail our (mine and Mama and Daddy's) tax returns.

And my friend was gone.  

I knew she was changing post offices soon but I didn't know it was this soon.  

The workers there said I missed her by a couple of hours.

So, since I know she reads this blog... 

(in fact, last week she told me she had missed my writing since I really haven't posted many blog entries lately - 

I have just been so busy with life and taxes and such!!!!!!) ...

...and since I know of no other way to get in touch with her 

(since I cannot remember her last name)...

...I thought I'd use a blog entry to say, "I'll miss you!"

: )

20 years - April 3, 1993

Twenty years ago today, I met my Rob.  

(Click here to see last year's post for more on the day I met him - April 3, 1993). 

During our life together, we had discussed this day many times.

It was to be the beginning of our year of celebration.

20 years since we met.

20 years since our first date.

20 years since our first kiss.

20 years since he asked me to marry him.

All leading up to our 20th wedding anniversary on January 1, 2014.

We had talked of taking a cruise for our 20th.

Instead, I am chartering waters without him.

And, without even meaning to, I am counting time backward instead of counting time forward.