Anniversaries and Memories

 

April 2^nd is a day of anniversaries. It marks the 82^nd anniversary of my parents’ marriage and it marks the 1-year anniversary of Wendy’s homegoing.

Over the last few weeks as I saw this day approaching, I have spent time reflecting on both events.  Memories flooded my mind.  So many, too many to list.  But with each memory there also came those momentary flashes of sorrow because I miss my folks and I miss my dear cousin so very much.

These three family members of mine had so much in common.  First of all, they were family people.  My parents were always inviting people into their home – not only to visit but often to live.  Each one was made to feel a part of our family.  Wendy (and of course, Raymond) did the same.  I experienced first hand what it was like to enjoy the hospitality at the Smith “farmhouse” and I know that they opened their home up over the years to family members to live with them for extended periods of time.

Secondly, they knew the value of hard work.  A classic motto is “Weimers work!”  My folks were always busy doing something.  Working at their respective jobs, around our farm, at the church, etc.  On and on.  Rarely did you see either one of them sit down for very long.  And Wendy, whew – could that girl work!  I couldn’t believe how she took a property in Farmers Valley and carved it out to become a real showplace.  And her gardening, canning and cleaning energies were enjoyed and utilized by all who knew her.  Literally at night when I would visit, I would see her sit down for rare moments and literally fall asleep from exhaustion.  Not because she had to work that hard – but because she wanted to.

Lastly, and likely the most important similarity was their love for our Savior, Jesus.  My mom and dad truly knew what it was like to walk with Jesus.  They turned to Him in times of need, praised Him for answered prayer and trusted Him for eternity as life began to ebb.  They shared their faith with those that entered their home, diligently served in their local church and gave sacrificially to the furtherance of the gospel.  Wendy (and of course, Raymond) did the same.  I believe if there is one characteristic of Wendy that I wish to emulate it is her steadfast faith in Jesus.  Her life had its ups and downs for sure, but through it all her faith in Jesus never wavered.  Even in the last weeks of life when pancreatic cancer was wearing her earthly body down, she still clung to Him.  Her legacy left to her husband, her children and the rest of her family and friends who knew her is one we all cherish.

So, on this “anniversary” day, I reflect on blessings.  I reflect on being given truly wonderful parents that I miss every day.  I was blessed by their steadfast love and commitment not only to Jesus but also to our family and to each other.  They had 61 years of married life together and they lived out their love in so many ways.  And I was blessed to have my dear cousin, Wendy for nearly 64 years.  We grew up as playmates together on the family farm in the Valley and we ended that time as best of friends at her “farmhouse” in the Valley.  I miss her so very much.  I think of her each day as I look at the many gifts she gave to me over the years and as I read the Spurgeon book she gave to me each morning.  I thank God for her life, her love and her friendship and I look forward to the day when I will see her and my folks face to face.

Every Knee will Bow

 

It was May 2023 when my husband, Dave and I were mulching around the shrubbery at our home when I first felt the “twinge”. With each successive day the twinge in my knee grew more and more disabling. The enjoyment of walking became a thing of the past.  Cortisone shots and gel shots gave only temporary relief.  Finally, after nearly a year of treatment, my orthopedist said “if you were my mom or my aunt, I would tell you that you need a new knee.” And so, with calendar in hand I scheduled my left knee for replacement.

October 19, 2024 became “the date.” Everything was scheduled around that date. Countdowns began. But the discomfort continued to worsen and I finally broke down and asked if there were any cancellations on the surgeon’s schedule.  If so, could I please have that date?  Three times they called me to place me earlier in his calendar. We settled on August 29^th.

With family and friends praying for my well-being I headed to the hospital for an early morning surgery.  I was even blessed to have one of my Zoom small group friends come to see me in the pre-op room to pray with me.  I felt at ease and thankful.  All went according to plan and I was sent home later that day to begin the daunting task of recovery.

The next day I headed to PT for my first experience with what was to come.  Fortunately, again I was blessed.  A long-time friend of mine has a son who is a physical therapist.  He along with his teammates continue to give me great care and encouragement (along with a little “discomfort”) as I learn to bend this new knee.

This brings me to the point of this post. For well over 67 years my left knee faithfully bent with little fanfare.  I could run, I could jump, I could get down on my hands and knees to mop the floor and more importantly I could kneel by my bed to pray.  How often I did this was often subject to the needs at hand.  I found myself kneeling to pray when I was at my worst.  There was that feeling of humility before my God that kneeling produced. The question I now have is “why only when you were at your worst, Carol?”

I recognize now that bending my knee comes at a cost.  It hurts.  Not as much now as it did in late August but it is still something I am very mindful of.  When my therapist stretches me for range of motion, I recognize just how much I took for granted before.

And bending my knee before my Father also comes at a cost.  While at the moment I cannot kneel by my bed I am bending my knee mentally as I come to Him for every need that I have no matter how great or how small.  He is the Sovereign One who reigns in majesty over all of my life.  He knows my frame.  He knows my weaknesses.  He knows my needs.  Even before I ask them – He has it all in hand.  I rest in that. 

Philippians 2:10-11 (ESV) says “So at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”  There will come a day when EVERY knee will bow.  There will be no question.  No matter the condition of the knee we will bow in humility before the King of Kings and Lord of Lords!  Will there be pain with the “bend?”  I have to believe that for those who are in Christ we will bow gladly.  But for those who know Him not and have rejected the gift of the salvation He provides the pain will not only be obvious but it will be permanent.

So as my knee rehab journey continues, I will use it as an illustration to myself that bending the knee is not only a physical gift but it is a spiritual one as well.  It reminds me of just Who is in control and how great my need of His grace and forgiveness.  

Remembrance Revisted

 It has been said that Confederate women were seen decorating the graves of their fallen heroes and continued on to do the same for those of the Union soldiers. This heralded the beginnings of Decoration Day or as we more commonly call it, Memorial Day. The lack of concern about whether or not the fallen were friend or foe truly speaks to the solemn beauty of the day. It is a time for us to remember those who bravely fought and died for the freedom that we enjoy today. And also, those from generations past who greatly influenced the people we have become.

For many years, while growing up, Mom and Dad would load us kids into the Oldsmobile and take off for the different cemeteries where our grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins or friends lay at rest. The trunk of the car would be filled with blossoms of various colors and types all meant to garnish the markers and to let others know that these people were cherished and remembered.

Little American flags waved brightly by the tombstones of soldiers from long ago wars and some were even marked by an occasional medal or remembrance of a particular event in history.

As a child, I must admit, it was not always something that I enjoyed. In fact, sometimes it seemed really like a waste of time and money to go traipsing all over the country going from plot to plot when I would have been much happier playing outside or reading a good book. But, still we went. And now, I am glad that I did because it taught me lessons about life and death and remembering, something that many people don’t do enough of.

While decorating the graves of relatives and friends who have passed away does not carry with it that same significance as decorating the graves of soldiers it does help to bring to mind the brevity of life. How often we take for granted the presence of a loved one only to find them taken from us by the cruelty of death. The small gesture of remembrance is only a token of what could or should be done during the lifetime of those that are near and dear to our hearts.

It has been nearly twenty years since my father passed away. In recent days memories of my childhood have resurfaced to remind me once again of the principles he lived by and the man of integrity that he was. It has been a time of remembering what was and seeking to understand what is. His influence continues to live on in the lives of his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Remembering that propels me to a greater desire to live the legacy those generations before me lived.

The author of the book of Hebrews wrote a verse that has often come to mind when I think about my Dad and others who have gone on before me. “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” I like to think about my Dad being in that cloud of witnesses, cheering me on, encouraging me when the going gets tough or sometimes even chiding me as he used to when I was a child.

Remembering him as he was is also a lesson to me of many attributes of godliness that I would like to believe is becoming a part of my heritage as well. Integrity, humility and a contrite spirit were all marks of my father. One of the greatest gifts that he gave to our family was a dedication to walk in truth and to teach us about our need of a Savior and the love of God.

Heritage and remembering is so much a part of the essence of Memorial Day. While we watch the parades and listen to rousing speeches of patriotism and honor it would be a good time to take stock of what is going on within our hearts and lives. Are we passing on to our children the same values and virtues of our forefathers or have we so lost our way that we cannot even remember the good of the past? Do we take time to sit down with our children or their children and remind them of the goodness of God? Or have we become so wrapped up in our own way that we have lost the reverence for the One who holds the earth in place?

This is a time to remember. This is a time to put aside the laissez-faire attitude that seems to permeate our country today. The sacrifices, the honor, the desire to put others ahead of self are attributes that were a part of the generations past. Let us put off the foolish behaviors of greed, deceit and selfishness as we honor those who have gone on before.

Load up the cars with your children and the flowers. Decorate the markers of those who have left your earthly life. Remember them for the lives that they lived and the sacrifices they made. Thank God for their lives and then dedicate yourself to live on in a manner that would bring a smile to their lips and a song of praise to their hearts.

--Update

Since first writing this blog post in 2009 many others who I loved and cared for have passed away.  My wonderful mom, my oldest sister, Judy and my dear cousin, Wendy along with many others.  This Memorial Day I will be thinking of these three women and what they brought to my life.  Each of them in their own unique way brought the light of Christ to this lost and dying world.  I am thankful for each one and their impact on my life.  

Musings of a Little Sister

Lots of thoughts go through your mind when you get the call that someone you have known your entire life has passed away.  In the past two plus weeks I have done a lot of musing about my sister, Judy since I got the news.

First of all, I recognize that the text message prayers, the long chats about my Bible study plans, the questions about the well-being of my kids and grandkids and just the general sister chit chat ceased.  I find myself rereading last messages.  The one in particular where she laughingly said she needed to "hop to it" to get her to do list done before she moved to her new home makes me smile and cry all at once.  That was just days before things turned for the worse.  

Second, I think about all of the ways she prayed for me.  She cared so deeply for the needs of each member of my family and the friends that I had shared with her.  I can remember when my friend, Beverly was going through her leg amputation - Judy called me frequently for updates so that she would know how best to pray.  Or during COVID when she joined in the livestream for our church (as well as her own) and she would mention how she prayed for our pastors even though she never knew them. My kids, Geoff and Claire as well as Dave's kids and our grandkids were always in Judy's prayers.  She wanted more than anything to know that they had put their faith and trust in Jesus.  Because to Judy our eternal destination was of the upmost concern.  I miss not being able to share those concerns with her because I knew she was genuine when she said she was praying.

Finally, I remember her last real words to me a week or so before she died.  She asked me what I was teaching in my Bible study this fall.  I told her I was teaching I Peter.  Her words to me come to my mind each time I open my Bible and prepare for my next meeting.  She said "Study hard."  Always the student.  Always the teacher.  

Judy was special.  There is no other real word to describe her.  Her heart for others and her love for Jesus challenge me.  She lived what she believed.  She cared more for others than she did for herself.  I pray that I can be more like her because she was so much like Jesus.  I miss you already big sister.  Enjoy what you have earned dear one!  Well done good and faithful servant!

Pilot Me

 It seems that I have been in a grand funk for quite awhile.  Lately I have been struggling with where I am in life, what I need to be doing with the rest of my days, how I can be an encouragement to others when I feel discouraged myself and on and on it goes.  

Sure, I have a lot to be grateful for.  And I am.  I am grateful for my husband who puts up with all of my emotional ups and downs with great grace.  I am thankful for my family that even though I have disappointed them time and time again they still like to hang out with me.  I am thankful for my church and my brothers and sisters in Christ who challenge me to be better.  And I most of all am thankful for my Savior Who continues to offer to pilot me through all of life's ebbs and flows.

I came across this mirror with the inscription on it "Jesus Savior, Pilot Me" while I was cleaning out a drawer in our spare room.  It was my mom's.  I can even remember where she had it.  It was on the bookshelf that was above her desk in the den.  It was there that she poured over the finances of our little family.  It was there where she often wondered where the money was going to come from to pay the bills on the little farm dad wanted to have.  It was there that she wrote out checks for college tuition, cars, insurance and first and foremost the tithe.  It was there where she wept and prayed over the many hurts of her family and friends. It was there where I am sure she prayed, "Jesus Savior, Pilot Me."  And I believe He did!

I have been praying a lot lately that God would help me to learn how to truly once and for all forgive myself for the things that I have done over the course of life that brought pain to many.  I have been praying over Psalm 19:12-13 "How can I know all the sins lurking in my  heart?  Cleanse me from these hidden faults.  Keep your servant from deliberate sins! Don't let them control me.  Then I will be free of guilt and innocent of great sin."  In other words - "Jesus Savior, Pilot Me!"  I know that by His grace I have been forgiven - I just need to claim that victory for myself.  

It is not by chance I came across this today.  I look at it as an answer to the prayer I have been praying.  In the words of Carrie Underwood "Jesus, Take the Wheel!"  

Beanie

 

Today on the day before Mother's Day I am thinking about "Beanie." I never really knew the origin of the nickname that my mom had but her two brothers and her five sisters all called her that so I am pretty sure she was dubbed that when she lived "down home." 

When I look at this picture of my mom and my uncle Glenn it makes me smile. This would have been before she and my dad were married so I am thinking she was 18 or so.  It was World War II timeframe. 

Mom always said she felt gangly as a teenager. But I think she was beautiful. Her smile here is the same smile she had when she was 89. It was the smile she gave when she heard us come in the back door when we came home to the Valley.  It was the smile she gave when she saw her grandchildren and great grandchildren. It was the smile she gave when she welcomed family and friends into our family home. Her smile came straight from a happy and contented heart.

I miss Beanie. I miss being able to call her on the phone and hear her voice. I miss being able to pour out my heart about the things that matter and some things that don't and have her understand. I miss her telling me to "keep on keeping on" when the way gets wearying. I miss her prayers. She prayed for us all - every day and often many times during the day. I miss that when I needed prodding that she was willing to do it. 

I think about Mother's Day and how this is now my 10th one without her. I wish I had told her more often how much she meant to me. I wish I would have gone home more and spent time with her while I could. I wish I would have done more to have made her life easier. But I cannot go back. I can only remind myself how blessed I was to have this woman as my mom. And I pray that a little bit of "Beanie" comes through to her youngest child. Maybe in my smile. I love you Mom!

On Saying Goodbye

 Today we said our goodbye's to Flora.  It was a lovely service filled with all of the truth and humor that made up her life. As I looked around at the many people that were there to honor her life I reflected a bit more on just what Flora meant to me.

There was a time in the service that they asked for people to speak up about their remembrances. I was not comfortable to do that for many reasons but I certainly had a lot I could have shared.

About 25 years ago I got to know Flora.  Really even before I became such close friends with her daughter, Beverly. Flora worked with me during a time in my life when I was really struggling.  She would often see me crying or just sad and she would take the time to  listen.  Often times she would say a few words of encouragement but sometimes it would be words that were necessary to help me get back to where I needed to be. There was never a word of condemnation.  She just knew the right thing to say at the right time.  And she always committed to pray for me. I will always cherish that about her.  And I want to be that kind of friend to others. 

Flora wrote a book that she just got printed and bound a couple of months ago.  It is a chronicle of her life stories.  What a treasure.  She wrote of the highs and lows of her life and most of all she wrote about her love for her Savior.  I was honored that she gave me one and that she wrote an inscription just for me in its cover. As I think about her doing this it has challenged me to get busy and write down the stories of my life.  Maybe that will be the gift that she gave to me - the challenge - the inspiration to get busy doing what I have always wanted to do.

At the end of her book she concluded with a passage from Psalm 73.  I share it now because it was her testimony.  She truly knew she was held by our Father. 

"Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand.

You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will receive me to glory.

Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

For behold, those who are far from you shall perish, you put an end to everyone who is unfaithful to you.

But for me it is good to be near God. I have made the Lord God my refuge."

You are now with our Savior, dear Flora.  You likely never knew just how much you meant to me. It was more than just apple dumplings we made together.  You wrapped my broken heart at a time when few knew it was damaged. The twinkle in your eye and the smile you always showed me - even when you were in such discomfort will always be the image I will see when I think of you.  You are now with your loved ones who have gone on before you.  Maybe if you could - would you look up my folks?  I am sure my mom would love to meet you.  You both had so much in common.  Most of all - that you both loved me!