Saturday, May 22, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
Her Birthday
Friday, May 14, would have been Grandma Berkheimer's 97th birthday. She loved lilacs; each year the lilacs bloomed right around her birthday so we had the joy of seeing her enjoy her favorite flower as a "birthday present" from God. One year while she still lived in Florida, Mom even shipped her some fresh ones in bloom.
This year we had an early spring. When the lilacs bloomed, we placed a fresh blossom on Grandma's grave. And on Friday, in an act of honoring her and remembering her birthday, we put a bouquet of artificial ones at her gravestone. Recently as my children and I were discussing heaven, someone said, "Don't you think heaven is filled with lilacs just for Grandma?" I can't even imagine the beauty of heavenly lilacs!
WHERE THE ROSES NEVER FADE
(Music by Robert Metzgar Words by Janie West Metzgar, 1929)
I am going to a city,
Where the streets with gold are laid;
Where the tree of life is blooming,
And the roses never fade.
Here they bloom but for a season,
Soon their beauty is decayed;
I am going to a city,
Where the roses never fade.
Loved ones gone to be with Jesus,
In their robes of white arrayed;
Now are waiting for my coming,
Where the roses never fade.
Here they bloom but for a season,
Soon their beauty is decayed;
I am going to a city,
Where the roses never fade.
Here they bloom but for a season,
Soon their beauty is decayed;
I am going to a city,
Where the roses never fade.
Where the roses never fade!
But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~1 Corinthians 2:9~~~~~~~~~~~~
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Honoring Mom
Mother's Day 2010
This week was Mother’s Day; most of us spent time honoring the special ladies in our lives. And while this blog is mostly about Dad, I want to take the time to honor a very special lady in my life.
Why is it that hindsight is always clearer? Now that I am a mother myself, I can begin to understand some of what Mom sacrificed for me.
"Mother's Are.." by Floyd Wood
Blowers of noses and washers of ears,
Smoothers of bumped spots and wipers of tears,
Bathers of babies and umpires of spats,
Finders of boots and mittens and hats,
Helpers with lessons and makers of beds,
Shakers of dust cloths and combers of heads,
Button-sew-oners and winders of clocks
Menders of dresses and darmers of socks.
Tellers of stories and readers of books,
Judges and juries of conduct and looks,
Doctors of heartaches and hearers of prayers,
Generals directing all family affairs,
Tenders of home fires and builders of men,
(Oh, for the gift of an adequate pen!)
Mom has been one of the most patient individuals I have ever known. When I think of the fruit of the Spirit, her life exemplifies those verses of Scripture in Galatians 5:22-23, “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.”
Even though she is out of the season of “active’ mothering, with children in the home, she now fulfills her role in parenting as confidant, advisor and friend. (As well as this stage in her life of grandparenting with joy!) And now as she is an on-looker to Dad’s dreadful illness, I am amazed at her fortitude. Watching her beloved sweetheart of over 55 years slip quietly away must be so agonizingly painful. God has given her the grace and strength she needs for each day.
“THANK YOU,” seems so inadequate to express how much I appreciate all that Mom has been to me and all that she continues to do for me. I found some words (I guess it’s considered a poem) several years back. I wish that I could claim authorship (it’s written by Sheryl Hoffman), but its sentiment echoes what is in my heart.
Mother,
You’re such an important part
of my life.
Sometimes I take for granted
that you know how I feel…
but on Mother’s Day,
I want to tell you
how much I appreciate you.
You’ve always been
understanding
and patient with me.
You’ve helped me to see
that by trying hard
I was doing my best.
But most of all,
I’ve always known
I could depend on your love
and support…no matter what.
And that has given me
a special kind of confidence…
something that
can’t be measured in ordinary terms.
If I could give you
anything in return
for all you’ve given me,
it would have to be
the love I hold
in my heart always
for you.
I LOVE YOU, MOM!
(One of Mom's favorites: Lily of the valley)
This week was Mother’s Day; most of us spent time honoring the special ladies in our lives. And while this blog is mostly about Dad, I want to take the time to honor a very special lady in my life.
Why is it that hindsight is always clearer? Now that I am a mother myself, I can begin to understand some of what Mom sacrificed for me.
"Mother's Are.." by Floyd Wood
Blowers of noses and washers of ears,
Smoothers of bumped spots and wipers of tears,
Bathers of babies and umpires of spats,
Finders of boots and mittens and hats,
Helpers with lessons and makers of beds,
Shakers of dust cloths and combers of heads,
Button-sew-oners and winders of clocks
Menders of dresses and darmers of socks.
Tellers of stories and readers of books,
Judges and juries of conduct and looks,
Doctors of heartaches and hearers of prayers,
Generals directing all family affairs,
Tenders of home fires and builders of men,
(Oh, for the gift of an adequate pen!)
Mom has been one of the most patient individuals I have ever known. When I think of the fruit of the Spirit, her life exemplifies those verses of Scripture in Galatians 5:22-23, “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.”
Even though she is out of the season of “active’ mothering, with children in the home, she now fulfills her role in parenting as confidant, advisor and friend. (As well as this stage in her life of grandparenting with joy!) And now as she is an on-looker to Dad’s dreadful illness, I am amazed at her fortitude. Watching her beloved sweetheart of over 55 years slip quietly away must be so agonizingly painful. God has given her the grace and strength she needs for each day.
“THANK YOU,” seems so inadequate to express how much I appreciate all that Mom has been to me and all that she continues to do for me. I found some words (I guess it’s considered a poem) several years back. I wish that I could claim authorship (it’s written by Sheryl Hoffman), but its sentiment echoes what is in my heart.
Mother,
You’re such an important part
of my life.
Sometimes I take for granted
that you know how I feel…
but on Mother’s Day,
I want to tell you
how much I appreciate you.
You’ve always been
understanding
and patient with me.
You’ve helped me to see
that by trying hard
I was doing my best.
But most of all,
I’ve always known
I could depend on your love
and support…no matter what.
And that has given me
a special kind of confidence…
something that
can’t be measured in ordinary terms.
If I could give you
anything in return
for all you’ve given me,
it would have to be
the love I hold
in my heart always
for you.
I LOVE YOU, MOM!
(One of Mom's favorites: Lily of the valley)
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Studies in Lamentations (from Pastor Bob Reid’s series, Lamentations ~ Tears in Troubled Times)
Today’s message was “When Grief Overwhelms Us” from chapter 3
Despite the cause of my grief (is it my sin or because I live in a sinful world?), God is with me in the fires of the furnace of my affliction. God isn’t absent, adversity (like the flash bulb of a camera) has blinded me to his presence. The writer of Lamentations (Jeremiah) was emotionally bruised, bitter, broken, buried in affliction (for the sin of a nation).
Verses 19-24 “I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I remember them well, and my soul is downcast {it sinks} within me. YET THIS I CALL TO MIND AND THERFORE I HAVE HOPE: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, ‘The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.’” Wait quietly for the Lord (not with the noise of complaint or emotion.)
On what do I focus? Loss, grief, injustice? Those only deepen my grief. Will I choose to focus on the pain or the one who loves me in my pain?
Verse 40: “Let us examine our ways and test them, and let us return to the Lord.”
“Affliction is God’s sheep dog to drive us back to the fold.”
“God’s mercy rides to our door on the black horse of affliction.”
Verse 57: “You came near when I called you, and you said, ‘do not fear.’”
In our times of affliction, God draws near for the soul who seeks him; hoping and waiting quietly, submitting to him.
Despite the cause of my grief (is it my sin or because I live in a sinful world?), God is with me in the fires of the furnace of my affliction. God isn’t absent, adversity (like the flash bulb of a camera) has blinded me to his presence. The writer of Lamentations (Jeremiah) was emotionally bruised, bitter, broken, buried in affliction (for the sin of a nation).
Verses 19-24 “I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I remember them well, and my soul is downcast {it sinks} within me. YET THIS I CALL TO MIND AND THERFORE I HAVE HOPE: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, ‘The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.’” Wait quietly for the Lord (not with the noise of complaint or emotion.)
On what do I focus? Loss, grief, injustice? Those only deepen my grief. Will I choose to focus on the pain or the one who loves me in my pain?
Verse 40: “Let us examine our ways and test them, and let us return to the Lord.”
“Affliction is God’s sheep dog to drive us back to the fold.”
“God’s mercy rides to our door on the black horse of affliction.”
Verse 57: “You came near when I called you, and you said, ‘do not fear.’”
In our times of affliction, God draws near for the soul who seeks him; hoping and waiting quietly, submitting to him.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
May 4, 2007
Today’s visit. The weather was warm and shady under the large tree on the front lawn of the home. My children played and romped in the grass, even climbing the trees. The only vehicle to drive past belonged to the mail carrier. It was so peaceful to sit undisturbed, gazing out over the farmland meadows, a warm breeze tousling even Dad’s short hair. TJ paused from playing catch with his sister to calmly sit on the bench beside Poppy’s wheelchair and hold his hand quietly. That image is frozen in my mind. “Whose yard are we in?” Dad wanted to know.
Something tugged at my memory to recall a day similar to this one: warm, sunny, with bright blue skies and blossoms everywhere, the world alive with spring, yet something dying inside of me. May 4, 2007. The neurologist confirmed what we had known (yet hoped wasn’t true) for some time. Alzheimer’s. As I dropped Mom and Dad off at home that day following the appointment, Mom quietly said in a hollow voice that still rings loudly in my ears, “Somehow the day just doesn’t seem quite as pretty anymore.”
Today, as I scanned the scene before my eyes, I reflected on what I can truly be thankful for in all of this:
...So far, since the day of the diagnosis, we have had three more years with Dad.
...My children have all had the chance to know their Poppy. Tonight at bedtime prayers all three of them prayed, “Thank you, God, that we could go to see Poppy today.” (TJ added “because I haven’t seen him in a while”---it hadn’t even been a week!) And Carly added, “and thank you that Grammy and Poppy are married” (She has weddings on her mind, preparing for her role as “flower girl”!) Recently, Dad looked directly at Emily, raised his finger to point toward her and said, “that’s my girl, right there.” She quietly said, “I know, Poppy.” And the tears fell silently without him seeing her wipe them from her cheeks.
...Dad is in a peaceful, pleasant environment. Oh, how thankful I am that he could be moved away from the other facility! There we would never have had the privacy (or the room) to enjoy an afternoon visit on a spacious front lawn in serenity and quiet, surrounded by nature’s beauty.
...Dad can still go outside! Carly asked Poppy, “Can you walk? Do you want to walk to the van?” “Well, Carly, maybe some other time.” He can’t walk, but at least he can still enjoy being outdoors.
...He still knows us and loves us. He told Mom recently that he “wouldn’t trade her for the whole world wrapped in gold!” Emily took her piano books along today to play for the other residents. Dad wanted to hear her play, “later,” he said. As we were leaving, Dad was settled into bed for a rest. I told him I had to go to work. “That’s no fun,” he responded. I asked if it was OK if Mom watched the kids for me. “No!” he said, “I’ll watch them…. Those kids of yours are dear.” “Well, Dad, they are a handful.” “Would you expect them to be anything else otherwise?”
And my heart is grateful as I ponder the truth in the words from Alfred Lord Tennyson: “Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”
Thank you, God.
Something tugged at my memory to recall a day similar to this one: warm, sunny, with bright blue skies and blossoms everywhere, the world alive with spring, yet something dying inside of me. May 4, 2007. The neurologist confirmed what we had known (yet hoped wasn’t true) for some time. Alzheimer’s. As I dropped Mom and Dad off at home that day following the appointment, Mom quietly said in a hollow voice that still rings loudly in my ears, “Somehow the day just doesn’t seem quite as pretty anymore.”
Today, as I scanned the scene before my eyes, I reflected on what I can truly be thankful for in all of this:
...So far, since the day of the diagnosis, we have had three more years with Dad.
...My children have all had the chance to know their Poppy. Tonight at bedtime prayers all three of them prayed, “Thank you, God, that we could go to see Poppy today.” (TJ added “because I haven’t seen him in a while”---it hadn’t even been a week!) And Carly added, “and thank you that Grammy and Poppy are married” (She has weddings on her mind, preparing for her role as “flower girl”!) Recently, Dad looked directly at Emily, raised his finger to point toward her and said, “that’s my girl, right there.” She quietly said, “I know, Poppy.” And the tears fell silently without him seeing her wipe them from her cheeks.
...Dad is in a peaceful, pleasant environment. Oh, how thankful I am that he could be moved away from the other facility! There we would never have had the privacy (or the room) to enjoy an afternoon visit on a spacious front lawn in serenity and quiet, surrounded by nature’s beauty.
...Dad can still go outside! Carly asked Poppy, “Can you walk? Do you want to walk to the van?” “Well, Carly, maybe some other time.” He can’t walk, but at least he can still enjoy being outdoors.
...He still knows us and loves us. He told Mom recently that he “wouldn’t trade her for the whole world wrapped in gold!” Emily took her piano books along today to play for the other residents. Dad wanted to hear her play, “later,” he said. As we were leaving, Dad was settled into bed for a rest. I told him I had to go to work. “That’s no fun,” he responded. I asked if it was OK if Mom watched the kids for me. “No!” he said, “I’ll watch them…. Those kids of yours are dear.” “Well, Dad, they are a handful.” “Would you expect them to be anything else otherwise?”
And my heart is grateful as I ponder the truth in the words from Alfred Lord Tennyson: “Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”
Thank you, God.
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