Tag: love

Cousin Truths

On By Piano girl2 Comments

Twenty-four!  That’s how many first cousins I have on my mom’s side of the family.  With twenty-four cousins, there was always somebody ready to play.  Kickball, basketball, riding bikes, king-of-the-hill on grandma’s front porch-never an excuse for boredom!

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As much as we loved playing together, we were not always nice to each other. One particular story comes to mind.  I was spending the night at Aunt Mary’s house.  She had six girls but was always willing to add one more.  Her oldest daughter, Rebecca, was born twenty days after me, and we were always close growing up.  One of us could be pretty bossy-not saying which one…

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We loved to play pretend.  This particular day we were playing house. Rebecca and I were the moms, the younger sisters divided between us as our kids.  A make-believe phone call was made, an invitation to visit offered, with only one condition.  Barbara could tag along, but not Janice-she would have to stay home.  In other words, we didn’t want to play with Janice.  The youngest of our pretend family, we decided she was too little to play.

Well, Aunt Mary got wind of our little plan, as usual.  She sat us down for a chat.  “Girls, imagine if I invited your Aunt Geneva over for coffee, and told her to bring Aunt Martha, but not Aunt Linda (her youngest sister).  How do you think that would make your Aunt Linda feel?”  Of course, that would not be nice, and sounded completely ridiculous!  We got the message.

I know it sounds simple, but sometimes simple is exactly what we need.  Gentle reminders, for both children and adults, encouraging us to walk in another’s shoes. Remembering our actions are capable of greatly impacting the feelings of others.

At that moment, Aunt Mary could have simply given us a consequence or made us go play outside.  After all, there were seven girls playing inside the house!  Instead, she chose to be calm and thoughtful in her response, giving us a real-life situation we could easily understand-and would never forget.

Thankful for cousin memories and the wisdom of simple truths.

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Yellow Roses

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Yellow roses are quite captivating.  Yellow is not my favorite color, but when it paints the petals of a rose, it causes me to remember sweet faces.  Memories of my Grandma Mahar and my father-n-law immediately come to mind.  They both loved growing roses, and yellow ones always seemed extra special.

Last week I saw yellow roses in a new way.  A beautiful cascade covered my Aunt Pearl’s casket, a single yellow rose placed carefully in her hands.  Their beauty, like a blanket of peace, provided comfort during a difficult time.  I would imagine Pearl’s love of roses came from her mother, my grandma.  And that she passed that love on to her children.

Flowers in this setting may seem insignificant to some, but I would disagree.  Anytime objects bring to mind images of those we love, they have value.  If we allow them to jog our memory, a cascade of yellow roses may turn into a flood of sweet faces.  Faces of those who loved us.  Faces we never want to forget.

Letting Go

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Why is letting go so hard?  I remember the day we dropped off our son Robert at college.  I cried the entire drive there and back.  Two years later it was Rachel’s turn.  She was staying a little closer to home, but it was still difficult to leave her in that tiny dorm room alone.  One more year and it will be Ryan’s turn, my 6’3 baby.  I’m trying not to think about that just yet.

Today brings a different kind of letting go.  Letting go of someone who was never mine, but who found a lasting place in my heart.  Today marks one year since my first visit to an Emergency Children’s Shelter.  I went to see a former student who had been removed from her home.  That visit quickly turned into one of many.  There were phone calls, we celebrated holidays, a birthday, enjoyed movies and shopping.  And even though I knew deep down our family was not the final answer for this child, the thought was always in the back of my mind.

Recently someone said to me, “What do you think your family could provide for this child that another  family could not?”  That stung, but it was exactly what I needed to hear.  Suddenly the words “letting go” began invading my thoughts.  And then it hit me-maybe our purpose had simply been to provide love and friendship during a year of uncertainty and confusion, and that was ok.

How appropriate that on this day, one year later, I receive word of a foster home placement.  Today some of my tears are selfish because I will miss her, but most are grateful-grateful for caring foster parents and a fresh start for our precious friend.  I hope to share more about this past year’s experiences in the future, but today tears must fall as I once again learn how to let go.

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens…”

Ecclesiastes 3:1

Separation

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I wrote the following poem based on my connection with a former student.  Recent news stories concerning the separation of children from their parents brought it to mind.

 

Deserved vs. Received

 

I deserved contempt, judgement, death.

I received forgiveness, grace, life.

I deserved exclusion, distance, rejection.

I received community, acceptance, adoption.

This is Love.

 

This child deserved love, safety, a community.

She received hurt, fear, isolation.

This child deserved affection, a home, a family.

She received neglect, loneliness, strangers.

This is Sin.

 

“Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins.”  I Peter 4:8

 

Beginnings

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I love music.  Music has been a constant in my life since I was a little girl.  Sometimes it seems the only time my brain is truly at rest, is when I’m behind the piano.  There are many thoughts constantly swirling through my mind, and it is often difficult to for me to make sense of them.  I’ve found that writing them down often helps, and I’ve decided maybe it’s time to share some of those writings.  I will begin on a rather personal note…

All Things Bright and Beautiful…

all things grey and gloomy

There is much discussion these days concerning depression.  It is a very important topic. Speaking from personal experience, it is one that I need to talk about more often.  It’s difficult to admit feelings of depression.  They come in so many forms-sometimes sadness, sometimes anger, sometimes crying-almost always without explanation. That’s not to say that specific events won’t trigger depression, however there is often no clear answer.  The reason-depression is an illness, an imbalance-not an emotion or emotional response, and certainly not a lack of faith.

My personal experiences with depression began over 15 years ago.  I was a young wife and mom of three young children. We lived in a quaint Oklahoma town, had amazing friends, a “bright and beautiful” time. Yet somehow I found myself struggling to control my emotions.  Feelings of frustration and anger, almost “outside of myself” experiences left me exhausted and confused.  I clearly remember on several occasions thinking, “Why am I reacting this way?  Why can’t I control this?”  It was staggering, that feeling of not being in control.

Thankfully, my husband is one who viewed this as a medical issue that needed to be addressed.  So I discussed my feelings with my doctor and began taking anti-depressants. Modifications have been made over the years, but thankfully medication continues to have a positive effect on my mental well-being and helps me cope with everyday life. The solution may not be perfect, but it is one I accept as necessary.

That being said…the depression is still there.  Most days are good.  But then a season of the “grey and gloomy” will come.  Sometimes it will make me angry, angry that I have to take medicine, angry that I can’t just snap out of it!  That’s when my husband gently reminds me if I had heart disease, I would seek treatment.  If I was diabetic, I wouldn’t hesitate to take medications.  And the list goes on and on.

As for my faith in Christ, I do not believe it is a lack of faith which causes my struggle with depression. On the contrary, my faith reminds me there is always hope. Hope that travels with me, right alongside the struggle.

“Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.”

Hebrews 10:23 NIV