Word Therapy

Lessons from my Grandpa

It's been almost a month since we said goodbye to my Grandpa, and I'm thinking about him today. I shared a few things at his funeral that he taught me, and I noticed that two of these legacy points showed up in our lives today.  Namely, butter and saltines, and little girls going to work:

 

Here is the comprehensive list I shared at the funeral of things that my grandpa taught me:

• A well-oiled quartet is one of the most beautiful sounds that will ever reach the human ears.
• A little raw hamburger straight from the grinder never hurt anyone, as long as it comes from your own shop and a local cow.
• It’s more interesting to ask questions about the happenings of other peoples’ lives rather than talking about yourself all the time. Maya Angelou said: “People won’t always remember what you said, but they will remember how you made them feel.” I remember feeling valued  because my grandpa showed a genuine interest in who I was becoming as a young person.
• Kids can work too. Whether stamping packages of freshly wrapped meat, hauling cattle at the ripe age of 3 years old in the old truck with no seatbelts or carseats in sight, or just sitting on the counter marveling at the steady stream of “worms” coming out of the hamburger grinder, don’t be afraid to introduce your kids to your culture of work.
• Differing political views create opportunities for vigorous and robust dialogue that sharpens the mind and doesn’t need to be a force that drives a wedge in a relationship.  We can love fiercely those with whom we disagree.
• Cultural literacy is best handed down by someone who has “been there and done that”. My grandpa would often stump me with weird euphemisms that were brand-new to my young mind. He would insert some funny old saying into our conversation that left me scratching my head, my face wrinkled in confusion. He would silently laugh at me, his face twisted up in his unforgettable grin, just before he would explain what he had just said, giving me wisdom beyond my young years.
• Saltine crackers with butter is a Grade-A snack.
• Whistling is a totally viable option for a second language.
• Don’t neglect the lost art of communication and following through. Looking back over old emails between my Grandpa and I, I re-discovered that he was recruiting people to pray on my behalf when I had a cancer scare in my 20s, and then taking the time to pass along to me all of the prayers and well-wishes that his friends offered.
• Jag ska gå i skolan imorgon. My one Swedish sentence that I know, I learned from him. Don’t let google translator replace your ancestral heritage! Learn from those who have immigrated here.
• Picking up a slug with your bare-hands in order to win a scavenger hunt, is a sure way to amaze and win the heart of your granddaughter.
• Showing up in the lives of your grandkids matters. I have all of these memories of my grandpa because he made it a point to spend time with all of his grandkids.
• A legacy of faith is an unfathomable gift. The building blocks of my faith were laid here at this church, where I saw my Grandpa faithfully attending and serving every Sunday. This is the greatest gift of all.

 

Older generations, take time to invest in the next generation. Next generation, put your phones away for 10 minutes and glean from the overflow of wisdom and experience that the older generations have to offer. And above all, trust in Jesus more than you trust in anything on earth, as we look forward to the day that He returns and makes all things right.

For my Soul Friend

I'm sharing today, the story of a friendship that is such a gift.  I wrote this post a while back, and I sent it over to my friend Laura at Seasoned with Salt.  She has it up on the blog, and I'd love it if you'd read it and see the faithfulness of God working through a very difficult time in my friend's life.  

Here are the first few paragraphs...

I watched her raise her arms as her beautiful alto voice reverberated across the sanctuary, and tears filled my eyes.  The Spirit of the Lord was on the move no doubt, and that in and of itself always makes me cry. Some people laugh, some people dance, some people kneel, I typically cry.

But my eyes were also overflowing because this day marked such a victory.

As the lyrics “let go my soul and trust in him, the waves and wind still know his name” rolled off the stage, through the mic, and into the hearts of the hearers, I rejoiced inside because I knew my dear friend sang this from a place of legitimate, hard-fought, battle-weary victory.

I met Cindi 3 years ago when we joined a bible study together. We carpooled for the thirty minute drive, and when I picked her up she darted from her front porch. I remember her practically dancing her way to my car. I would find out later that she has quite the flare for the dramatic, with a background in theater and musicals.  We built a deep friendship in record time.  Daily phone calls, getting to know the ins and outs of each others’ lives, quickly led to a kinship that is a rare treasure.

Within just a few weeks of getting to know my new friend, she walked a little more slowly out to my car one evening as I picked her up for bible study.  She said her knees hurt and she had “pockets of fluid” in her joints.  What we thought would come and go quickly because we are completely healthy and vibrant 30-somethings, spiraled into a plethora of afflictions that would send my dear friend into her recliner for nearly three years.

Find the rest over at Seasoned with Salt

Grantidotes Days 5: 6

Two days in one! Yesterday was so packed full that I just could not get to the keyboard to sum up my gratitudes from the day.  It was a beautiful kind of busy; full of connecting with people, and for that I am so thankful. If you want to read previous days, or what this is about, go here.

1.

I’m thankful for friends.  I’m so glad to live life in relationships with other women.  Growing up we all want this right? Isn’t that so much of the angst of the school years?  And even in adulthood and motherhood, we are continually looking for that kindred spirit, the one(s) who get us and love us no matter what we are going through, what we look like, what stupid thing we say, or how difficult our idiosyncrasies are. I count myself incredibly blessed for the friendships that I have.

2.

I’m thankful for dreams.  God could have made us to have black screen in our mind’s eye all night when we sleep.  But no. He lets us live different experiences, see new things, go to amazing places, maybe even fly in our dreams.  Of course there are bad dreams, and sometimes I have those, but last night I had good ones and I do so love waking up in the morning after a night of interesting dreams.

3.

I’m thankful for simple traditions.  I remember as a kid, so vividly, driving around with my parents, listening to Christmas music and looking at Christmas lights. It was nothing fancy. There was no magic Pinterest-inspired Polar Express goodie box for the car, no cup of hot chocolate, just a car and a Burl Ives or Bing Crosby Christmas cassette tape. It was MAGIC though.  Tonight we ate dinner and I asked Kevin if he wanted to take the kids out for a drive to look at lights and we did.  It was so easy but so fun. I turned on the Classic Christmas pandora station-packed full of Burl Ives and Bing Crosby, and we made the loop up to Leavenworth via Stines Hill and North Road, driving by downtown Leavenworth (always amazing this time of year) and circling back via East Leavenworth Road. 

4.

I’m thankful for Unexpectedly Quick Reconciliation

Tonight at bedtime we had a bit of a blow-up with one of the boys.  As a punishment (and as a means of letting the other two kids get to sleep without enduring the tirade) said boy had a sleeping bag laid out for him on the bathroom floor.  As I went back to the bedroom to read a bedtime story to the other brother, other brother exclaimed “Oh! I love this book!”. I looked to see which one he had grabbed, and he picked one we hadn’t read for several months.

This book. Oh man. If you haven’t read it, you should.  I cry almost every time I read it.  I usually make it to the last couple of pages and then lose it, but tonight, I was done by the time the boy turned 2.  I realized that my last baby is already out of the baby phase and is not in the beginning phase of the story anymore.  Then I realized that one boy is almost to the part where the boy in the book turns 9 and then it hit me: Milo is 9 next year and that means we are HALFWAY DONE getting him to 18.  That means we are halfway done having him live with us.  I died a little inside and moved from gentle tears to full on crying.  All three of them are just sprinting through their childhoods it seems!  

Around that time the boy who had been banished to the bathroom meekly entered the room and I saw his crying face and he saw mine and all the previous rage was traded for a tearful reading of the second half of the book.  Talk about a perspective shift.

Sometimes when this particular boy and I butt heads, we both get so stubborn and dig our heels in and usually no one wins.  It was nothing short of a miracle that his heart softened from down the hall, and he chose to come back to the room, at which point he found me palpably nostalgic and tenderhearted and ready to make quick amends as I realized that this young man is such a gift.  I guess you could say it was a coincidence that out of all the books we have; Berenstain bears, Curious George, Dr. Seuss, that this particular book was picked tonight.  I don’t think it was a coincidence.  I think God directed a boy’s eyes to a book that would shift the atmosphere of the entire family on this night.

 

5. I’m thankful for hot showers.

There’s something so wonderful at the end of the day about taking a hot shower. I wish every mom around the world could enjoy one, but I know the reality is that many women have to carry dirty water to their homes each day and a hot shower is something that dreams are made of.  Such a simple thing we take for granted, but really such a luxury.

 

6. 

I’m thankful for a girl with good fashion sense.  Who doesn’t love some zebra print sunglasses?

I'm Too Old For This

I’m too old for this.

 

Listening to country music that is.  Today in the car, I had George Strait radio playing on pandora and midway through a Kenny Chesney song on Highway 2 I had tears running down my face.

 

It seems that the lyrics that I sang along to without more than just a hint of emotion in my teens, all of the sudden are too much too handle.  

 

I think this old age of 32 has allowed me to see and experience trial, love, and loss in my own life and the lives of those around me, to the extent that now the lyrics hit home and I can’t hear them without real stories coming to mind.

 

Then there’s the issue of song lyrics that all the sudden click now that I’m an adult.  The lightbulb has come on, and I finally get what those words mean.  Some of the things my 6 year old self was belting out, Lord have mercy.

 

I had no idea the level of semi-scandalous romantic escapades I was singing about.

 

Or the political undertones in a song that had absolutely no bearing on my young tender mind, all of the sudden make complete sense.

 

Alabama- “Daddy was a veteran, a southern Democrat, they oughta get a rich man to vote like that”  “The cotton was short and the weeds were tall, but Mr. Roosevelt was gonna save us all”

I literally remember singing this song out loud and I was absolutely clueless as to what a Democrat was or how a rich man might actually vote.

 

Then there was the uber romantic Mark Wills song that instantly swept me back to high school when I was freshly in love with a dark skinned, Levi-wearing, s10 driving, #17 jersey-decked boy with black hair and mean moves on the wrestling mat and the football field.

 

I remember being so gosh-darn teenager-status-in-love.  Head over heels.  Don’t you tell me we are not getting married because we SO ARE.  And we actually did, but I know we are the exception rather than the rule.

 

All of this to say that next time I better be judiciously using the waterproof mascara if I anticipate any walks down 90s country lane during my day.  And I better pass out the earplugs to all the kids because you know I’ll be singing along with every song and probably with the windows down.

 

Where are my 90s country people at?  Do you love this post? Check yes or no;)