Another lesson from Dad

My birthday was Friday. I went about the day like it was any other. Aside from a ton of Facebook postings wishing me a happy birthday and a few close friends/ family that remembered, it was an ordinary day.

I didn’t want it announced at TJ’s Science camp that morning. I didn’t even tell the old friend that invited us to her house for a swimming “playdate” for the kids. Later in the evening, one of the children told a neighbor who replied to me, “I had no idea it was your birthday!” Good! I didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to myself or force anyone to feel that they had to make a big deal out of the event! Birthdays are for children; they become less important as the years march by.

When Dad’s birthday would roll around each November, he would say, “I’m not having a birthday this year!” or “I’m not opening any gifts this year!” Now I understand exactly what he meant!

Oh and by the way, when I told Dad it was my birthday, he said, “What are you now, 21?” HA! I can only hope someone says that to me every year! :)

"Mama, swing me the Poppy way!"

Today, Carly, TJ and I had a picnic lunch at the park and played on the swingset. Yes, even me! It's been a LONG time since I played like a kid on the swings! I guess I'm a child at heart...swinging high above the bar trying to kick the leaves on the tree still gives me a thrill!!! :)
It reminded me of yesteryear when I would beg Dad to push me on the swing that he had hung in the giant maple tree in our backyard...splintery blue ropes from the hardware store that ate into the branch high overhead--and my hands, too! (Dad didn't like heights--in later years anyway--and I always wondered how he had managed to climb out on that limb!) with a removable wooden board for a seat. (Way cool, because without the board, one could more easily stand to swing!) I used to try to reach those leaves with my foot, too!
I couldn't wait until 4:12pm (or 4:19pm if he stopped to pick up cheesesteaks for a surprise summertime supper) when Dad would pull in from work and he would push me on the swing with an "underdoggy" or stand in front of the swing, still in his work clothes, just out of my reach to taunt me as I tried to reach him with my barefoot toes. Or he would make me lock my knees with my legs out straight so he could push the bottoms of my feet or hold onto both rope swings as I waited up in the air with anticipation for when he would let go.
Today I had the privilege of showing my children how Poppy used to push me on the swing! Yes, there was a little heart tug for me that Dad can't show them himself, but knowing that I have to now live his legacy and hearing the laughter and squeals of delight brought a smile to my face. And hearing repeated requests from a certain, curly-haired, four-year-old, "Mama, swing me the Poppy way!!!" was more thrilling to my heart than any old swing-ride!

54 Years

Fourth of July

It feels strange to not be sleep-deprived or have a nervous stomach from traveling this weekend, stopping at some rest stop in Virginia or looking for the ever-elusive Krystal Burger. I will be spending the Fourth of July in Pennsylvania this year for the first time ever (where Roman candles--most fireworks actually--are illegal! And especially no bottle rocket wars allowed!) And missing the Ferguson Family Reunion for the first time in my entire life!

Thinking back over the many car trips south, the memories flood my thoughts. First we thought we'd never get going!!! "I'm not going to Tennessee this year," we'd hear for months prior! Then Dad would want to trim the hedge or mow the grass right before we left. Mom doing last minute laundry. "Don't forget my brown belt!" Singing gospel hymns or "O, My Darling, Clementine" in the car to pass the time; Dad trying to harmonize and laughing because it sounded so bad! Watching for the "Hungry Mother State Park" sign. Arguing over the pronunciation of Wytheville, VA (soft or hard "th" sound??). "Don't run on the dock, play-ze." On the all-night trips, seeing the sun rise on the Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River (sing it, John Denver!) Dad taking the "short cuts" (!) In the early years, pulling over for a few hours to sleep at the rest stops--never could get comfortable! Occasionally having Mom talk Dad into finding a dinky little motel in some remote area off the interstate. Breakfast at Shoney's. Searching for the road back to Mom's old homeplace in Dandridge, TN. Caravaning with more than one vehicle--one year having a car break down on the holiday! A/C (to keep the drivers awake) cold enough to "hang meat in the cooler"!! Counting the miles to Roanoke, Bristol then Crossville. And such relief and joy at finally arriving at the Inn or receiving a warm, inviting welcome at Aunt Vi's cozy home. There's nothing like it in the whole wide world!

I am looking forward to that wonderful, miserably long trip (in August this year) to make new memories!

PRICELESS

Then and Now

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~~~~~~~~~~~~