Category Archives: Children

A Happy Ending

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It was back to the cemetery for our family today, a tradition of nearly 50 years. If we count our parents’ visits, it’s much longer than that.

Rosehill Cemetery

So, in this morning’s cold rain, 8 car-loads of relatives left Michigan and headed toward Chicago’s Rosehill Cemetery located at Bryn Mawr and Western Avenues. Though we have no formal program there each Memorial Day, the family historian (Mary) encourages people to prepare memories, even silly ones, about any of those buried in the family plot.

Today our brother Tom started, having brought a book detailing the history of this interesting cemetery, including its Civil War veterans. He read aloud, describing the notables buried nearby, and we were reminded of the care some take to leave detailed burial instructions for their heirs. All of us hope to be remembered well, and in an effort to shape the thinking of those still living, Rosehill burial monuments range from fascinating to bizarre.

Explaining who is buried.

This morning Mary brought photos of past cemetery visits when the adult children present today were still babies. Her notebook included large photos of each deceased relative, and she showed the children how to match the pictures to the tombstone names. The idea of death being a part of everyone’s earthly life is a topic we’ve all been encouraged to freely discuss.

We talked about Nate (the most recent death) and his loyalty to his law clients, his infectious laugh, and his soldiering on through difficulties.

We also talked of Dad bringing Mom to this spot on some of their first dates in 1940. He was letting her know that family was a top priority with him, and it might even have been a test to see if she felt the same. Now, after 50 years of marriage, they’re buried side-by-side.

Dad had also mentioned that since his brother and mother both died in the early 1900’s before effective embalming and weatherproof caskets, their bodies had probably decomposed. He told us, ”Most likely their remains are feeding the roots of this big oak tree here.”

We found his comment odd and also funny, but it revealed an acceptance of death as part of life. Dad believed, as the rest of us do, that those buried in the family plot had gone ahead to better lives.

Key words? “Gone ahead.”

These deceased relatives now know far more than we do about life after death. Though their bodies may have deteriorated at the end of their lives and after death, their spirits  soared to life-spectacular. That’s why we can stand at the cemetery every Memorial Day and talk openly of their lives and deaths without spooky feelings, uncertainty, or fear. We’re confident each of them is privy to a happy ending. Thankfully, the rest of us can be sustained by the same hope.

Prayer of gratitude

Traveling 200 miles today to be reminded of that was well worth the drive.

“In [God’s] great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you.” (1 Peter 1:3-4)

The Last Laugh

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Skylar, my oldest grandchild at 5½ now, has always had a way with words. Children like her keep the rest of us entertained with their interesting comments, and one of Skylar’s two year old remarks has stuck with me. She and her family were visiting from Florida, and a dozen of us were seated around my dining table chatting. Skylar’s loud, animated jabbering was interfering, and finally her mother said, “Skylar! You can’t be so loud at the dinner table. Please talk softer.”

Laughing Skylar

Always thinking and not particularly interested in obeying at that moment, she looked directly at Linnea and said, in a quiet voice, “But Mommy, it’s good to laugh.” And quick as a wink she threw back her head, opened her mouth wide, and let out a rip-roaring, ear-splitting, drawn-out mega-laugh. She knew her mother wouldn’t say, “No laughing allowed!”

Although Skylar had the wrong approach, she did have the right idea. Scientists tell us we all benefit from a good laugh, and most of us don’t do enough of it. We’ve heard of Hollywood’s artificial “laugh tracks” and know the whole idea is to get us laughing more, enjoying the benefits of giggles and guffaws and the shows that cause them. Group laughter is a way of sharing in a happy experience.

Producers and directors recognize the power of a good laugh and have learned how to expertly blend natural and fake laughter. They’ve studied how wrongly placed laughs can ruin a story line, and how laughter that’s too loud or too long can offend listeners. Who knew there was such a thing as “wrong laughter?” But harnessing correct laughter translates to dollars and cents in the world of show business.

Sometimes I think about the things we laugh at in our spiritual lives and wonder if our behavior is always appropriate. Are we “laughing wrongly” as Skylar did that day at the table?

Maybe we can learn something from her laugh-wrapped disobedience. I have a hunch most of us do something similar on occasion. Haven’t we listened to our heavenly Parent’s instructions (or reprimands) with a hint of wrong laughter deep inside us? He tells us something important, and our inner laugh track quietly says, “Yeah, right. Ha ha.”

He says:

  • Put someone else’s needs atop your own. (We say, “Laughable.”)
  • Make decisions now, based on life after death. (“Oh sure.”)
  • Love your enemies. (“Ridiculous.”)
  • Believe that the devil is out to destroy you. (“Absurd.”)
  • View suffering as an effective teacher. (“Preposterous.”)
  • Trust your life to an unseen God. (“Outlandish.”)

How many times do we outwardly agree with him while inwardly thinking, “He can’t mean that!” But he hears our wrong-laugh track and is not joining in. What he wants from us instead is “correct laughter,” which is the deep satisfaction that bubbles up after cheerful, wholehearted obedience.

As for Skylar’s loud laughter at the table, she miscalculated her mother’s response, and during her time-out, she wasn’t laughing.

“This is love: that we walk in obedience to [Christ’s] commands.” (2 John 1:6)

Trying to Trust

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Welcoming a new baby is an immense blessing, a gift from God unmatched by any other. Along with every newborn, however, comes a list of responsibilities that can scare even the most well-prepared woman. The buck stops at mommy, and it’s her job to make sure baby grows and thrives. But what about mommy?

Babies have erratic sleep patterns, and a cat-napping little one translates to mama-exhaustion. Worst of all is the middle-of-the-night, wide-awake baby who thinks it’s playtime. Although mothers usually thrill to a baby’s giggles and grins, during the night it’s cause for despair.

Snatching sleep

Last night, 6 month old Emerald did the playtime-at-night thing… for hours. When I came downstairs this morning and saw rumpled blankets on the living room floor, I knew it’d been a night of action with Birgitta eeking out bits of sleep in the midst of Emerald’s playground…. surely a mothering low point.

New moms, though, aren’t the only ones who battle sleeplessness. Sometimes when Birgitta is “doing a night” downstairs, I’m upstairs doing one, too, wasting precious zzzz’s tending to my worries.

Of course the struggle is all in my head but is no less real than what’s happening downstairs. Yesterday, for example, while climbing a small dune, I stepped over something frightening: a long, winding snake track in the soft sand. Fearful of snakes, I froze, wondering if the track-maker was nearby. My eyes followed its trail till it disappeared into the woods, and from the markings, I could tell it was a big one.

Snake track

Then last night, as I put my head on the pillow, I asked God to spare me from snake nightmares. He did, but I forgot to also mention stray thoughts. About 3:30 am I was awake and wondering:

  • What would make a snake cross an exposed sand dune like that?
  • Did it come out of a hole close-by?
  • Were there others lurking about, maybe a nest of wriggling babies?
  • Might snakes be in the woods outside my house?
  • Could a snake get into my house? Could it climb the steps?
  • Would a snake try to bite me?
  • Would it be something I could ever forget?

Birgitta’s sleep deprivation wasn’t her fault. Mine was.

As a Christian with an invitation to access Christ’s power, why did I lie awake and agonize as I had? Didn’t I trust God to take care of me? Haven’t I memorized Scriptures about pushing back fear? And the most poignant question, don’t I believe God would help me cope if I had a snake-encounter? [shudder]

Snake evidence

In the light of day, the Lord let me know the purpose of last night’s misery: he’s working on my trust issues. Although it doesn’t feel very good to be tested, the Bible tells me he’s going to do it again anyway, probably in the near future. I’m only hoping it won’t have to do with snakes, but….

*            *            *            *            *            *

All things considered, maybe Birgitta has the better night-time gig.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him.” (Romans 15:13)