Category: everyday life

sisters

June 1, 2019

everyday life, healing

Any apprehension I had melted away at the dinner table that night. She was adorable and polite and I loved her instantly. Mary did too. They talked late into the night. I let them. Normally, I was a stickler about bedtime, but this was different. I was going to let Mary experience sisterhood for the first time. Pack 14 years of missed-out comradery into 2 weeks. Hair and nails and instagram. Giggles and whispers. So much teenage laughter.

We were visiting my sister awaiting the birth of her third baby and she just happened to have another niece staying with them. To be honest, I was apprehensive. The house would be crowded with 2 families plus an extra. Where would we all sleep, and rest, and hang? What would this 17 year old stranger be like? My worries had been unnecessary. My children’s cousin cousin (as I think of our relationship) was the perfect housemate.

I don’t want to diminish or not mention the cousin who Mary spends a week with every summer. Only months separate them in age, and every year for about a week, they’re inseparable. But this felt different. This new cousin of a cousin was a few years older, like an older sister.

Over the years, I have longed for Mary to have a sister. But not just ANY sister. I wanted the sister who was there with me by my side when Mary was born. My yearning was only ever for Abby to not be gone and for Mary and Abby to have grown up together. I didn’t want another daughter, a different daughter.

After Abby died, along came Jackson, a third brother. I can’t even believe how many people seemed disappointed. They assumed that God had taken a girl, He’d give us a girl. A few people actually said well, the next one will be a girl. But there was to be no next one. Our family became complete after 5 babies.

Then something happened as I scrolled facebook. I saw photos from a wedding. They were candids of the pre-teen sister of the groom with her brother’s new bride. The mother of the groom was so happy that her daughter now had a sister. I was transfixed. I had a new realization. And the tears came and wouldn’t stop.

These were happy tears, tears of delight. For the first time, it occurred to me that if Mary’s brothers married, she would have instant sisters. And if Mary married, who knows how many her new husband might bring to the family for Mary.

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Grandpa, a man of many hats

July 23, 2009

christianity, death, everyday life, heaven

I’m cleaning today, digging through a drawer that is stacked with papers and photos. I found a piece of notebook paper folded in sixths. On it was the memoir that I wrote for my Grandpa Herrick’s funeral, who died February 3, 1996.

When I think of Grandpa, I see a man with many hats. I think a lot of us here gave him at least one over the years. I see a man with many plaid shirts, suspenders, belt buckles and tools.

When I think of Grandpa, I see a man in a chair. Reading, doing crossword puzzles, winning at Scrabble, and snoring.

I remember one time he accused us grandkids of eating the toilet paper because it seemed to disappear whenever we visited.

When I think of Grandpa, I see a man who was always building and making things for the people he loved. He and my dad built the house on Beecher road. He built the cabin in the woods. The bunk beds. A see-saw and swing for us grandkids. A fort in a tree so he could hunt for deer. When he wasn’t falling off ladders, he was climbing them, to erect a bigger than life satellite dish on the roof.

I’ll always remember the love and care he showed Grandma. The last thing he made …only minutes before he collapsed, was a sandwich for her.

For me, the most special thing he built is the simple wooden chest that still sits in the corner of my room. What once was filled with toys is now filled with linens and blankets. Even after 20 years, my name that he carved in the bottom of the toy box has not faded. Neither will these memories. The assurance that Grandpa is in Heaven makes the pain a little less and the memories even greater.

Isn’t it lovely that I have this old photo to go along with this memoir? Based on how old my brother and I look, I’m guessing this was taken around 1977.

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a portrait

July 5, 2007

everyday life, healing, loss

One of my husband’s aunts has painted a portrait of Abby. She finished it several months ago and it has been “curing.” I assumed that we’d be bringing it home with us from our family vacation in September. And I wondered how we would keep it out of harm’s way in a minivan with 4 kids and all our stuff. I have been anticipating seeing the painting, wondering what my reaction will be. Will I cry uncontrollably or just smile and let out a contented sigh? Will it take some getting used to or will I love it immediately?

No longer will I have to wait until September. I have word that it is on its way and will arrive Monday or Tuesday. I’m feeling kinda nauseous. So much for having 2 more months to prepare for it. And yet, I’ve been contemplating it for quite some time. First for over a year and half, I was reluctant to choose a picture for it. How could I possibly pick just one photo; what if I chose the wrong one? After I finally made the decision, a month or so later, I heard that the portrait was finished and the artist was pleased with the finished product. Part of me has been happy that it has been curing 950 miles away! Out of reach, out of sight.

I am very excited, yet also very apprehensive! Please pray for peace. I’ll let you know how it goes.

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top 5 things not to say at a funeral

May 9, 2007

christianity, death, everyday life, grief, healing, heaven, loss
In the two years since my daughter’s death, several people have asked me what they can say to a friend who has just lost a child or another loved one. My answer has always been,

There are truly no words. Just listen. Get your friend talking.

Ask about their loved one. Ask what they miss the most, what they remember. If you have some stories to tell about the person who has just died, tell them. They will grasp onto your memories and cherish them.

Here are five things not to say to the grieving family at the visitation or funeral and why you shouldn’t say them:
1. You can always have another child. OR you’re young; you can get married again.
2. Don’t worry. You’ll see him again.
3. At least he didn’t suffer long.
4. He is in a better place.
5. Be thankful he died at an early age. He doesn’t have to experience pain and heartache on this earth.
Although these might be true statements, they are not helpful and can be very hurtful. You can’t replace a person by having another child or remarrying. The parents will want this child back. The widow will want her husband back. The child will want his parent back.

For Christians, death is bitter sweet; yes, we’re glad that our loved ones are in heaven and we look forward to seeing them again. But the reality is that we would much rather have our loved one here right now with us.

A note to pastors for mother’s day
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grief on ice

December 2, 2006

christianity, everyday life, grief

Unexpected grief. Happens a lot. But who would’ve thought it could be during the Ice Wars? Skater Michael Weiss described the program he was about to do as emotional and spiritual. Hmm. . . what did he mean?

When Weiss’s music started, I immediately recognized those first notes of I Can Only Imagine. The song had been sung at my friend’s funeral in August and was played at the funeral of my brother’s mother-in-law in November.

Surrounded by Your glory,
what will my heart feel?
Will I dance for you Jesus,
or in awe of you be still?

Hearing this Mercy Me song reminded me of the recent funerals and of all the people in my life who have died. While the commentator droaned on about triple toes and double salchows, I was wishing he would just stop commentating and let me sing along to the song. I almost didn’t notice when Weiss did a black flip because I was thinking of Abby and Beth and Barbara all singing and dancing in heaven. And I just found out another sister in Christ had lost her husband.

Will I sing “Hallelujah”
Will I be able to speak at all?
I can only imagine
I can only imagine

I have lost many loved ones recently and the only thing that makes it okay is knowing I will see them again. Because of God’s saving grace, they have been released from the pains of this world and are living in glory. As the song continued, I imagined seeing my Saviour and letting my daughter Abby take me by the hand and show me the wondrous things she has discovered. I could only imagine heaven.

Later into the Ice Wars, Angela Nikodinov dedicated her program to her mother who had died recently. She skated to Faith Hill’s “There You’ll Be.” More death. More emotion. More grief on ice.

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Category: everyday life

sisters

Grandpa, a man of many hats

a portrait

top 5 things not to say at a funeral

grief on ice