I know, I know, you’d expect that to read Like Mother, Like Daughter. People often describe how children look like, sound like and act like their parents. As we grow older, we begin to understand the opposite is also true. The voices of our own parents can be heard when we speak and their images seen in our reflections. Perhaps wisdom allows us to see our children as teachers through a two-way mirror Continue reading “Like Daughter, Like Mother”
Tag: family
Coffee
My earliest memories of coffee stem from my Grandma Mahar’s house. Always a fresh pot brewing, Grandma was glad to share a cup. She had nine children and twenty-six grandchildren, so someone was bound to stop by for a visit. Visit is the key word, because in our family, drinking coffee meant conversations around the kitchen table.
Several years ago I realized coffee for me equates to a comfort food due to this strong childhood connection. Not only does it provide literal warmth, it also provides fond memories of growing up in a family that talked, listened, argued, disagreed, and loved, often over a cup of coffee.
Today getting coffee is a common social convention. Whether it’s friends visiting, a nervous first date, a job interview, each may be witnessed at the local coffee shop on any given day. Some may consider the practice routine or mundane. As for me, an invitation to coffee is neither. It’s an invitation to talk, laugh, maybe even cry-enjoying the time our paths are allowed to cross.
Coffee
Fancy or Plain
Black or With Cream
Home or Coffee Shop
Makes no difference to me
Coffee
Warmth and Comfort
Friendship and Family
Laughter and Memories
More than it appears to be
My Father-n-law
Today we celebrated Father’s Day. I prepared the requested chicken enchiladas and yellow cake with chocolate frosting for lunch. Our family, including my mother-n-law, spent the afternoon together, ending our day seeing The Incredibles ii. Such a nice day! But someone was missing, my father-n-law. He passed away February 2, 2016 after a hard fought battle with cancer. Many moments today I sensed we were all thinking the same thing-we miss Dad, Papa, Bob. None of us said anything, but his memory was present.
We do talk about him often. How he liked to razz the grandchildren about their love interests. My mother-n-law once called him the nosiest man alive! How he would do everything in his power to make sure we all had what we needed and wanted. He was so very generous. We knew he loved us, no doubts! Though our celebrations may now feel incomplete, they must continue. They must be sprinkled with precious memories of this one who teased us, quizzed us, provided for us, and loved us so well.
A Father’s Day Story
How do you measure success? Money, material possessions, travel, adventure? Facing constant pressure to seek the “next best” makes success difficult to define. A recent conversation with my dad led my thoughts to this subject. As he gathered souvenirs to share with children at their church’s VBS, I began questioning him about his travels and compiling a list of his mission trips. The word “success” permeated my thoughts.
My dad is a carpenter, strong and gentle, a man of few words. A hard worker who spent much of his life building homes. I believe however, his work in volunteer missions truly defines his success. My dad ventured nineteen times to Brazil, five times to Mexico, twice to Guatemala, and once to England. These trips often involved church construction in poor, remote locations. He also volunteered in twelve U.S. states on multiple occasions, building, remodeling and repairing churches, as well as working in tornado and hurricane damaged areas.
Mom often accompanied dad on these trips. Both now in their seventies, they once again prepare to travel, this time to South Dakota. Most people would say, “You’ve done enough, rest.” Nevertheless, they continue to be faithful, embracing opportunities to serve others. In the words of my dad, “Not too bad for a bashful old country boy.” Now that is what I would call a success story!
Happy Father’s Day dad! I love you!
Piano Girl 