Category Archives: Aging

Worth the Wait

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1990Scripture says children are a blessing (Psalm 127:5). I’ve always found that to be true and was excited, from about the age of 12, that one day I might have some of my own. When adulthood finally came, much to my delight, kids came, too, and as predicted, they brought blessings.

They also brought a big surprise — that the joys of being a parent continue even after children become adults.

In all my years of hands-on mothering, no one ever told me about this happy phenomenon. Nobody mentioned that receiving a heart-felt letter of love from a 30-something would trump even the charming artwork of a kindergartener. The loving touch of an adult child is, I believe, one of the parenting “rewards” the Bible promises.

When I was in the thick of full-time mothering with 7 youngsters at home, there were some days when I craved time away from these blessings. But not so with my adult kids.

7 plus 1.

(L. to R. Lars, Linnea, Klaus, Birgitta, me, Hans, Louisa, Nelson

Rather than the energy drain young children can be, time with adult children is more like a filling-up. It gives me great pleasure to sit back at family gatherings and listen to my brood talk together – whether it’s politics, theology, or just reminiscing. There’s something incredibly appealing about listening to and watching them.

And then there are the one-on-one moments when a depth of heart is shared in confidence. Little children are enchanting, and for many reasons I love being around them. But they don’t need friendship from their parents as much as guidance, protection, and teaching. Once they’ve grown up, however, children and their parents have the happy option to just be friends.

I especially enjoy when my adult kids find new ways to say “I love you.” For instance, late one night Louisa decided to make Swedish pancakes — long after I’d gone to bed.

Louisa's pancakeThe next morning, I came downstairs, opened the fridge, and found an “I love you” waiting for me – a pancake with my name on it. (She calls me Midge.) Despite being tired after a long day of work and errands, Louisa had thought kindly of her old mama, reaching out as a loving friend. Though the pancake was yummy, far more delicious was the connection she’d taken time to make.

As I gain in years, I know the relationships with my adult children will continue to be important. And another thing I’ve learned for sure: Children truly do bring blessing…. all the way along.

“Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from him.” (Psalm 127:3)

Beach Bums No More

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IMG_4053Not a day goes by that I’m not grateful to live near Lake Michigan. Even on days when I don’t go to the beach, I can smell the lake’s fresh water and hear the music of its waves.

And with beach rocks all over the house (around clocks, picture frames, mirrors, and on door mats), my thoughts are never far from the shore. All my neighbors feel the same.

1951Mary, Tom, and I grew up spending summers on this same shoreline (left: 1951) and raised our collective brood of 17 children here. But the most authentic beach bums in the whole family have always been Mary and me.

Neither of our husbands enjoyed baking in the sun, and both were glad they didn’t have to — since Mary and I had each other to do that. Despite too much sun exposure (and the dermatologist bills to prove it), the gains have more than outweighed the losses.

Mary and I moved through 70 summers side-by-side, but then my beach buddy got terminal cancer. God graciously gave us one last summer together, though, before he carried her to heaven.

M & M.During that time we both understood that we wouldn’t be sitting on the sand together much longer, and Mary wanted to talk about it. The soothing sound of the waves made those difficult conversations easier as we faced the reality of what was just ahead.

And then… how well I remember the moment she let me know her beach days were over. Though it came as a shock, she did it gently. It was probably just as hard for her to say, as it was for me to hear.

We’d been to the beach the day before, and on this perfect weather-day we’d agreed to go again, around 2:00 PM. I drove the few blocks to her cottage to pick her up, since riding bikes was no longer an option. But when I got there, she was seated in a chair on the lawn, dressed in regular clothes.

“You know,” she said, “I think I’m going to skip the beach today. Is that OK with you? I’ve been thinking about taking a nap instead.” Not once in all the years had Mary every turned down an invitation to go to the beach.

We locked eyes and in that instant we both knew what she had just said – our beach-buddy days were over. “Sure, that’s fine,” I said, with a heavy ache growing inside. “A nap sounds like a good idea.”

I sat down next to her in the yard, and we talked for a few more minutes. She chose the topic: her own funeral. She’d always been a realist, and her practical side was eager to sort out the details.

After 20 minutes or so, she stood up slowly and said, “Well… I’m pretty tired, so I think I’ll go lie down for a little. Greet the beach for me!”

But the beach didn’t factor into my afternoon either. It would have been no fun at all without my beach buddy. Instead I just went home and cried.

(…to be continued.)

“Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you.” (Psalm 55:22)

Young Love (#86)

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September 1, 1969

 

Nate and I were getting closer to the start of a new school year in Champaign – him is law school, me as a teacher. After a double birthday party in Wilmette for my brother Tom and our Dad, the next event was seeing Tom off to college in the East. He had transferred from Wheaton to American University and would be driving to Washington DC the day after his party. We wouldn’t see him again until Thanksgiving.

Bye bye TomMom was clearly having trouble letting go – her baby, a first son, the boy who’d arrived after doctors said “no more,” the child born on her husband’s 50th birthday. Her words were that Tom wasn’t ready to launch, but the truth? She wasn’t ready.

Tom was thrilled to be spreading his wings. After a breakfast together, we waved him off, and I wondered how Mom would cope. When he’d been a Wheaton student, she’d made frequent visits to his campus 25 miles from home. She would do his laundry, bring his favorite foods, drive him home for weekends – in other words, continue as a strong presence. Now there would be 1000 miles between them, and it was a blow to her.

I didn’t understand that at all. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have anything to do.

Bible study girls.She was the every-week organist at Moody Church (two Sunday services, Wednesday prayer meetings, Thursday choir practices). She ran 4 children’s choirs. She cooked dinner at the church for over 100 people every week and taught a Sunday school class of high school girls (left). She hosted a young people’s Bible study at her house.

The church was 45 minutes from home, but that didn’t stop her from driving there repeatedly each week to practice on the 4-keyboard organ, nor did it keep her from attending many other church meetings – such as Missionaides, a group that sewed for missionaries. Each week en route to that, she’d pick up a crowd of elderly ladies who wanted to go but didn’t drive.

Kids galore.She accompanied at scores of weddings and funerals, entertained weekly at home, welcomed youth groups for their socials (right), and spent time memorizing entire books of the Bible. (That was why she kept pages of Scripture rubber-banded to her steering wheel.)

Mom was also managing the redecorating of their new home, painting every room herself. She was shopping for carpeting, drapes, appliances, and furniture with the goal of having it all in place before our November wedding.

Oh… and she was planning that wedding. With everything else going on, it had sunk to the bottom of her long list, and as it turned out, mine, too. Nate and I were on the verge of moving out of town when it finally dawned on me why my parents had wanted us to wait a year before getting married. But it was too late to worry about that now.

UnloadingNext on our agenda was to load up again, clock those 156 miles back to Champaign, unload (with law school friends, left), and prepare for a new school year.

As for the wedding? It would come together eventually…. somehow.

“Nothing will be impossible with God.” (Luke 1:37)