My Youngest Son--Part 2

To my youngest son,

Dec 27th is a day for me to remember!  Happy 40th birthday. Wow, I am having a tough time wrapping my brain around this. My baby is turning 40 years old. When did that happen? What has happened to the last four decades? And mostly, why did it go by so fast? I hope you know how much you are loved, how much you were wanted, and how proud I am to be your mom. 

When I discovered I would have my 3rd baby, I was so happy--for many reasons. To name a few--your big sister and brother were about to have another sibling! Your dad and I knew we wanted three children, so we were excited to hear the news! Baby number 3 was on his way. Oh, yes, I knew you were a boy before I was even tested. I just knew. Just like I knew you were going to be a great little brother. I loved that you were the perfect size when you were born, not too small like your sister or too big like your brother. Just right. Within a few months, I watched as your personality emerged. Super funny, intelligent, and easygoing. Until you were two, however, I'll skip that part; most kids go through the terrible twos, so why dwell on it. Right?

I always thought it was interesting when you were school-age. You were much wittier than most of your teachers. I could see it, but they could not. You seemed to outsmart them at every turn. But, once in a while, you'd get a teacher who saw you! The real you. The bright, witty Curtis. And they thoroughly enjoyed having you in their class. Those were outstanding years for you. They helped nurture you.

I never doubted that you would turn into the man you are today --a great husband --hard-working and a great provider. A great father - you always loved kids! And, a wonderful son. But, I can honestly say a son who became a real man- thank God for answering my prayers. And by real, I mean gentle, tender-hearted, and kind - actual fruit of the spirit. When I carried you, I prayed for you just like I did for your siblings. I prayed for your childhood, adulthood, and future spouse and children. And, God, in all His wisdom and mercy, gave me you and answered every prayer.

Continue, Curtis, to always put God first, serve Him all of your days, and do what is right in the sight of God. These are the words of wisdom I want to give to you. You are an amazing son. I am so proud of you. I love you so much. I love everything God has done in your life, and I will continue to pray for you until I take my last breath. 

Happy 40th birthday!

God bless you and yours and thank you for being my son.

Love, Mom

This Is Where Home Is

As I age, I always make wonderful and fascinating discoveries about myself. For example--I discovered that my true home doesn't reside inside a house. It's taken me all these years to discover that my true home is where my husband, children, and grandchildren live. Not in proximity to my house per se, but almost. It isn't necessarily living distance--it isn't as though I need to live closer to them (although I certainly would be okay with it). It's more like a feeling of closeness when we are all together. That time of "living" and "being" together. 

Our sons live within a 30-minute drive, and our daughter lives about 6 hours away. And my life feels complete when she and her family visit and join us for the holidays. That's the only way I can describe it. It's a completeness that makes my heart feel safe. Knowing that my baby chicks are within my wings reach. Silly as it might seem, it's a feeling that appears extremely real to me. 

Yes, there are some holidays, some horrible holidays, that I have to share my children with their in-laws. I will be sincere here and say I hate that part. The part about sharing my kids' lives. I don't want to share. I understand that the in-laws wish for their time also; I really do. I just don't like to share. I want my kids close by--joining in our family fun, playing games, laughing, eating, and watching TV together. Sometimes, I want to stop time. I want them home. With me, especially during the holidays. It's a weird feeling; it feels selfish, yet they, indeed, are my feelings. My very selfish feelings. 

Tonight, as I write this, everyone is where they are supposed to be--according to me. My daughter and her husband are sleeping here in my home, and my oldest grandkids are here also. My sons are close by in their homes, all within 30 mins of each other. That is home to me. It's that special feeling of peace, safety, and love, and once again, I feel as though I can protect them--for I am their mom. 

How do I describe this feeling of home any better than this? For this is where my home is. It's in the heartbeat of my family. Snuggled in their beds, safe and sound, with their mom watching and praying over them. Just as it should be. 

Merry Christmas, kids--I'm so glad you are home.

Christmas Time

I find myself becoming so reflective at Christmas time. I think most of the birth of Christ and what God means to me. And also, I think a lot about my memories. Many memories contain my parents and relatives; however, most are of my husband and children. They are memories of past Christmases. All that to say--I am reflecting. And, when I remember, I learn about myself. When I do that, I can grow and change, hopefully for the better. That's what this is all about. Growth and change. 

I actually have a lot of quirks. Most people don't care for their idiosyncrasies; they wonder if they irritate others, are too different, or fit in. They question themselves. Oddly enough, I don't do that. I have learned to be content and embrace my quirks. I like them. I'm a little strange, and that makes me--well, me.  

During our pandemic years, each person I've talked with had a unique way of dealing with their isolation. My method was to pretend it wasn't happening. So, each morning I made a plan. I got up, drank my coffee, got ready, and went somewhere--anywhere. I had to go and get out. My husband and I did some pretty silly things. We made picnic lunches and ate them by ourselves in the car. We took long drives along Lake Erie. In other words, we made the best out of a bad situation. As restaurants and businesses were closed, we were forced to make due with what we had. We did a lot of hiking and biking. Cleaning and baking. Remodeling and gardening. Anything to make the time go faster.

And now that things are back to normal and we are about to experience a typical Christmas with family and friends, I have again begun to reflect. I can look back on 2 years of crummy Christmases and holidays, and I can see that growth took place.  

I've come to realize this: I am living each day as if it's my last. I get up thankful, and I go to sleep grateful. I get ready each morning, and I'm ready to explore, wonder, and appreciate all that I've been blessed with. I plan my days and pack them full of time with my friends. I make plans to get together with my children and grandchildren. I want to experience life to its fullest each day. So that when I lay my head down at night--I can say--this has been the best day ever. I can pray and thank God for all that happened--good and bad, for each encounter, and I find that each endeavor is a learning experience, and I can see growth in my life taking place. It draws me closer to God, makes my heart more thankful, and makes me reflect on the goodness, mercy, and grace of the God I serve.  

What better time than Christmas time.  

Time to reflect, time to heal, time to praise, time to worship--at Christmas time.

11 Boxes

I don't know how it happened. Well, yes, I do. I know how it happened. It happened because I love Christmas. I do. I love it so much that I've lost all self-control. So I have boxes and boxes of decorations. And that's not including the trees, wreaths, and garland. In those 11 boxes are nothing more than knick-knacks and bric-a-brac, from Santas and sleighs to candles and manger scenes. And believe me, each one holds a memory.

Some--friends gave me, and some were handmade by my children. Some were from European Christmas markets, and others were found in wonderful gift shops. So tell me then--which should I dispose of? Which memory shall I throw away? This is what I face each season as I ask my husband to haul those 11 boxes down from the attic. So what do I do with these memories of mine?

After almost 49 years of marriage, 3 children, and 8 grandchildren--do I toss the handmade ones? Do I throw away the photo ornaments? How about the one from Germany that we picked up on vacation? Do you see the dilemma here? This is what I face each year.

We have downsized homes substantially, which means fewer rooms, fewer walls, and less floor space. So, where do I put my treasures? As I walk around our house, where do these memories hang? 

However, I've made myself a promise. Each year I will donate one box of tchotchkes until decorating for Christmas is manageable. Notice that I did not promise to stop buying. I cannot stop doing that. It goes against my nature. But, donate, I will. And I did. After putting out my favorite and most loved items, I donated one box to charity. I shall never again view, touch, or hold those memories in my hands. They are gone. Hopefully, to create a memory in someone else's home. 

And as we pack up 10 boxes of decorations after Christmas this year, I hope I don't miss that 11th box. With 10 left to love and then deciding next year what to donate, I shall be happy with what I'm left with. 

I really hope I don't hit up the after-Christmas sales and fill that 11th box again. But I'm really going to try. I promise. I really do.

It's Not Writer's Block

No, it isn't writer's block. It's--I don't have time to write. So, it could be time block. I just don't have time. I love to grab my computer, and jot down some thoughts and ideas, just as I love to grab my kindle and read a bit. However, I am at a loss--for time. 

By the time evening rolls around and dinner is made, I'm ready to cozy up, throw a blanket on my lap, watch some TV, and knit. But, instead, the thought of thinking hurts my brain. It's a problem, though, that needs to be fixed. I need to write. It's how I process; without it, I will eventually crash and burn. And nobody wants to see that.

Without this way of processing, my thoughts tend to pile up like a wreck on a foggy night on the freeway. Get the picture? As each story of my day or week goes by without an outlet, my brain begins to overcrowd. Things get messy up there, and pain (also known as emotions) begins to back up. I truly never realized how much I depended upon this outlet of writing and how important it is to me.

My goal now is to write about something going on in this brain of mine. I want to put my thoughts down and rid myself of this backlog of emotions. I find that by just grabbing my laptop and writing--poof. Brain drain commences. It's incredible--this way of downloading my innermost thoughts. It's like jumping into a pool on a hot summer day. Refreshing is the word I'd use. I need to be refreshed weekly, if not daily. 

So, there you have it, my first of many brain dumps. I promise to start the week off right-- brain dump at least once weekly. Tell my stories, share my thoughts, and make writing a part of my life again. Story by story, I'll make time for writing. I promise. 

Memories of Laura

My first real friends were my cousins. Perhaps yours were also. I have 33 first cousins. Yes, you read that correctly. I was one of the oldest, which I liked. It meant that most times, I was a ring leader, especially for the girls. Depending on which side of the family we visited determended the type of play that transpired. And just how bossy I could become!  

This particular memory is of my mother's side. I am writing about my younger cousin Laura. She was 4 or 5 years younger than me, the daughter of my mother's oldest sister. I was the oldest girl cousin and, yes, very bossy. Laura's older sister and my little sister were the same age and hung out. My job was to watch out for them as we all played together--making sure they toed the line. My relationship with Laura was a little unique as we had many things (despite our age) in common. One of which was our love for animals--primarily horses. Man, could that little girl draw! She would sit for hours drawing pictures of the most beautiful horses. I loved seeing them as I had absolutely zero drawing ability. We would sit for hours talking about horses and dogs, sharing books and movie recommendations, and loved being together. Even though several years separated us, we were very compatible. 

For many years, as I was growing up, my family would go to theirs for Thanksgiving or Christmas. My aunt always bought my sister and me little gifts that meant so much. I have such great memories.  

And then something horrible happened. My aunt, uncle, and 2 of my cousins were killed in a horrific private plane crash. Laura and her older sister were not on the plane and were left without their parents and siblings. They were only 16 and 18 years old. Laura went to live with her older sister and, in my opinion, never fully recovered emotionally from that horrific accident. 

Still, though, we remained close--the 3 of us, and lived close by each other for many years. Laura had a son and then eventually a grandson. She had her job, raised her child, and had a few friends. As the years went on, she became more and more withdrawn. She developed some major medical problems and had significant weight issues. The more weight she gained, the more of a recluse she became. When I would come back home for a family visit (from 2500 miles away), she would make excuses not to be able to join in on our cousin's family reunions. It made me so sad.

We conversed via Facebook and emails, and she even commented on my blogs. She was a faithful reader. I loved reading her posts, opinions, funny memes, and comments. Oh, how I shall miss that. You see, she passed away last week in her home of natural causes. Most likely heart failure. She was alone and seated at her desk, probably getting ready to type something funny on Facebook. Just a few hours before, she had posted funny comments on some of my grandchild's photos. And, now she's gone.

That fast, that quickly, her death sneaked up on us all. I shall miss her tremendously. However, her sister, who is now my closest cousin, my soul sister cousin, shall miss her the most. She will need loads of prayer. She now has lost her entire immediate family. Thank you, God, that she also has lots of cousins to pray for her. She has an awesome husband and three wonderful children to help her through this loss. She has great friends and a wonderful church family. And she will need them because a loss like this is a significant loss.

I will miss you, Laura. I know that if you were reading this blog, you'd be telling me not to be so sad. You would be telling me that you are happy. That you are not only with your God, but you are finally with your mom and dad, your brother and sister, and with our grandparents! You would tell me--it's ok, I'm happy. So, Laura, I will heed your words, and I'll be happy for you and take care of your sister--don't worry.

Rest in peace, sweet cousin; I shall miss you forever.

When I Was Born

When I was born, I was born into a family of three. Soon after, my little sister was born. Now we were four. And then, when I was eight years old, I found out that I had an older half-sister. So we were now a family of four and a half. Kind of. However, that's a whole other story.

I had a Granny and Paw Paw and a Grandma and Grandpa. I was closest to my Grandma, we were thick as thieves, and she was pretty much my favorite person. I also had 9 aunts and uncles, then add in their spouses and viola! 18 of them. Add their children into the mix, and before too many years went by, I had 14 cousins on my mom's side and 17 cousins on my dad's side of the family. So yes, 31 first cousins--to play with, grow up with, hang out with and learn all about those close family ties that are very important to our development. 

Let's not forget about my parent's cousins--I actually thought they were also aunts and uncles in my early years, which added to my cousin count. I was in heaven--so many little cousins to play with. So many cousins to have fun sleepovers with, share secrets with, and, yes, even fight with. We were a brood to be reckoned with, that's for sure. Hurt one cousin, hurt them all. We were a fierce bunch. It's funny that one particular cousin has become more like a sister to me. I've nick-named her my soul sister cousin. We have become very close over the years. We have each other's backs. We pray for each other, listen to each other, and try hard to see each other across the miles as much as we can. Those family ties are just that important. I don't ignore those. They are even more crucial now than ever. Memories are what I will have to hold on to in the future. So, I will work my hardest to preserve them.

Since I was one of the oldest cousins, I observed our family's growth. Many babies, lots of little ones running about, and a couple of older cousins that got us into trouble--more than a few times. I believe my best memories are those that wrap around my extended family. They were incredible times, from playing in their backyards, playing in the sprinklers, and having sleepovers. I miss them. A lot. The older I get, the more precious those memories become. I want those times back; there are things I want to say to some of them. Especially to those I've lost.  

As I've mentioned before, I was closest to my paternal grandmother--we were 2 peas in a pod. I'm told I look like her, act like her, and have the same sense of humor. That makes me proud. I wish I could have told her how much I love her. I valued those summers staying at her house, picking blackberries and making cobblers. I loved staying up late, watching TV, and laughing. I also want to tell her that I saw her cheating at poker and never said a word. She was awesome!

I have others in my family that I was close to--for example, my aunts. One died of cancer,  another aunt from a plane crash, and another from a heart attack. Gone way too soon. Sometimes, I get very nostalgic when I think of things they've missed out on. I wish they were still here. I want them to see what I've seen. Their children and grandchildren...so much loss.

And then there is the horrific loss of 2 of my nephews at ages 17 and 24 and my niece at age 6. What do you say when you think of them? How does one heal from the loss? When I dwell on what they were unable to experience in life--it is too much. To lose family creates a deep sorrow. It is an emotion that should not be visited often. Instead, I believe we should dwell on the memories--the good ones, the funny ones, the stories of our family that bring about a smile. I like to let that smile rest a bit deep inside of me and then move on.

I wonder, what will my children's memories be? Of their grandparents, aunt, uncles, cousins? Will they be bittersweet, like mine?  How different will their perspective on life be?  Will they be shaped by their memories like I was? And, will they one day look back and wonder--what should I have said when I had the chance?

I am thankful for my family--for all of them, from young to old, from the past and the present; I absolutely love the memories--from when I was born.  

I Chose The Good Things

It's true about me, I'm a little Pollyanna.  I can't help myself. It's just who I am.  I chose the good things.  To look at, to live through, to cherish, even in the really bad times--silver lining and all that.  It isn't that I don't see it or feel it--those bad things, I do.  It's just that after a time of praying and analyzing the situation and then going through the emotions of it, I chose to look at the positives. 

So, here they are.  When Covid hit our world, it took a devastating toll on me.  And others, I am sure.  People were dying, being locked up in their homes, and losing family members and friends.  Businesses were shutting down, and restaurants closing. It was horrific.  And I became very depressed.  I knew it wasn't a deep depression where medication was needed. I knew from my education it was clinical depression.  So, after really praying hard about it, I looked outside of myself and made the decision to keep busy.  I had no idea how long this Covid thing was going to last, but I was determined to do my best.

Before the vaccines came out and we knew that European travel was out at least for a few months, we bought our first little travel trailer.  We made our own happiness.  We traveled locally mostly, as some states (I know, hard to believe) were shut to us.  When that first summer was over, we had no idea that summer number 2 would be just as bad.  But I'll get to that later.  During that first summer, as I said, we had to make due with the resources we had.  We had our RV, our home, and our family--as friends weren't allowed to gather.  We watched church on TV, did minimal shopping, traveled about in our RV, and did some home improvements.  In other words, we made the best of a bad situation.  

When we bought our current home almost 4 years ago, we knew that every single room required renovation.  We did the kitchen and bathrooms right away, and then room by room, we changed out flooring, we painted, and we put in new lighting.  Our home was built in 77' and hasn't really been touched since.  We had a lot to do.  So what better time than during a pandemic, right?  That first summer, we began slowly, one room at a time--first our master bedroom, then the bathroom, then came the...well, you get the point. There was so much to do. 

We made it through that first year by keeping ourselves very busy.  Then the following spring--vaccines came out.  We were so excited, we lined up, got jabbed, and thought--woohoo Europe is next!  Nope.  It didn't quite happen that way.  Not everyone got on board, and so the virus grew.  Many businesses remained closed, many more people died, and depression once again reared its ugly head!  I thought we were done with this!  Why weren't people taking this seriously?  Also, during that time, I lost many friendships and family relationships--I blame it on the cult of Trump.  But I don't want to go into that here.  It's too heartbreaking.

Summer number 2 living with Covid brought about an even bigger RV, and again away we went.  We were now allowed (because of vaccines) to travel into other states, so we ventured further out.  We had a wonderful summer--2 weeks away, 2 weeks home.  However, still no European travel for us.  We then again decided to finish up the restoration of our house.  We had always figured it would take us about 5 years' worth of home projects to finish it, but thanks to Covid, we are now in the home stretch.  We are almost done!  It's February now, we will begin our camping travels again in April, and if things go according to plan, we might even get to go to Cannada this year!  Alas, no Europe, however.  That will have to wait another year,  I know that I would not be able to handle wearing a mask on a plane for 9 hours, plus the airport time--forget it.  With my allergies, cough from medication, and asthma--I wouldn't make it. It would be too stressful.  I'll have to wait.

It seems as though this virus is dying out.  Yes, there are variants; however, those of us that are fully vaxxed will most likely live through them even if we get covid.  And, one day, life might return to normal--no masking, with stores and businesses reopening, etc.--one day, soon, I hope.  I want normal again.  I liked normal.  It felt safe. I got to do what I wanted when I wanted to do it.  I got to go places and see people. I was able to be in large groups of people and not spread out.  Starbucks used to be open--all the time!

I want normal again.  However, until that happens, I will choose the good things to dwell upon.  I will try to keep busy, and I will pray for my friends and family (even though they've dumped me for their cult leader). I will plan trips, whether they are in an RV or eventually to Europe.  I will think of new fun things to do to my home, I will invite friends over, I will be with my kids and grandkids, and mostly, I will be very thankful.  I will continue to choose the goods things.