Category Archives: Thankfulness

Sneak Peek #1

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Excerpt from THRIVE AND SURVIVE, ZERO TO FIVE:

When I (Mary) was a new mom with only one child, Luke wanted to be my right-hand man in everything I did—just like all two-year-olds. My goal that day was to make a batch of pepparkakor cookies, a traditional Swedish favorite. The dough must be rolled thin before using cookie cutters to make shapes.

I planned to involve Luke by giving him his own ball of dough and hoped he’d be content with that while I got the cookies made. What I hadn’t counted on was that his attraction to the flour was greater than to the dough.

As I dusted the cookie cutters, he dusted his hands, face, hair, clothes, and everything within a ten-foot radius. My kitchen was quickly deteriorating, but I decided to let him do what he wanted and gave him his own scoop of flour. He poured and spread and patted his treasure until it had puffed itself wall-to-wall. But I got all my cookies baked, and Luke had thoroughly enjoyed himself.

Cleanup was significant, but picture in my photo album tells of a success. Luke’s big smile, shining through his floured face, says, “Mama and I had fun today!”

SIDEBAR:

BENEFITS OF HAVING FUN WITH CHILDREN

  • Builds strong relationships
  • Keeps mom young
  • Presents opportunities to teach
  • Provides release of stress
  • Brings shared laughter
  • Builds happy memories

A Lovely Look-Back

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Reminiscing brings pleasure to those of us getting up in years. We find joy in looking back over our shoulders at the many ways God was active on our behalf.

Not long ago the Lord initiated a look-back that surprised us all. My adult kids and I were following a road map of all the places Nate and I had lived in the Chicago area after we were married – a tour set up by Linnea.

First stop was a tidy bungalow Nate and I called home right after he graduated from law school. We lived there with an aunt who kept me company when Nate had to go on active military duty.

Next we visited the city apartment building where we lived for a year as Nate settled into his first lawyering job in Chicago’s Loop.

After that we drove to a three story walk-up on the north side of the city. Back in 1972, it had charmed us because of its proximity to a small patch of beach on Lake Michigan’s shoreline. If Nate and I hung our heads out the apartment window and looked left, we could see the water.  

We then drove to the suburbs and stopped at three houses, the first in Deerfield where we lived for three years, the second (also Deerfield) for five years, and the third in Prospect Heights where we raised all seven of our children and lived for twenty-nine years.

As the kids and I drove along that day, they urged me to share memories linked to each location. I was honored that they were interested.

We hadn’t planned on getting inside any of these special places except at our last stop. I’d written to the current owners of our old farmhouse, warning them not to be alarmed if they saw a crowd congregating in their cul de sac taking pictures – because it would just be us.

When we knocked, Theresa warmly invited us in and led us to a lavish hot chocolate / dessert bar in the kitchen. She encouraged us to tour the house at our leisure and offered to take pictures.

She got a kick out of our reminiscences and was happy to hear how much we loved the house. Then, as we hiked upstairs, God had a sweet surprise waiting for us.

Louisa’s old bedroom, now pink and green with fresh white woodwork, was a far cry from her decorating — glitter-painted walls festooned with hundreds of 4×6 photos. As we complimented our hostess on the room, she asked a question.

“Would you mind looking in the closet? Maybe you can explain something to me.”

Wedging ourselves into the small space, we turned and saw a loopy ballpoint script written on the inside of the door frame:  “A happy heart makes the face cheerful, but heartache crushes the spirit.” (Proverbs 15:13)

Louisa caught her breath and said, “Oh my gosh! I wrote that! When I was thirteen!” It was a quote that had impacted a middle-school girl enough to tattoo it in a private place – seventeen years ago.

 

As Louisa took a picture, her eyes brimmed with tears. Theresa watched in wonder… which is when we asked a question of her. “It looks like you painted around this writing to leave it there. How come?”

Her answer was simple. “We thought it was a nice blessing over our house.”

Louisa remembered that year as being up and down, much like the written proverb. But on our tour day, God showed us that his living words had been on her mind, influencing her young life.

Even now, years after we moved away, those words are influencing still.

“Write [God’s words] on the door frames of your houses.” (Deuteronomy 6:9)

In Memory Of….

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February 2019 is in the books now, along with Valentine’s Day. We widows don’t look forward to February 14th like we used to when our men were with us, but no widow ever forgets how things used to be.

Even though Nate was a big gift-giver, I don’t miss the gifts nearly as much as the giver… especially on February 14th.

This Valentine’s Day, however, included a lovely bright spot. I received a unique gift that was linked back to my favorite giver.

 

Linda is both an old and a new friend. We met 50 years ago in 1969, as newlyweds. What brought us together was our teaching assignments at the same southern Illinois grammar school. We carpooled that year and forged a happy friendship in the process.

After two years, though, she and I moved apart, and our lives filled with children, homes, and separate schedules. In a natural way, our friendship dimmed. But in 2017, we reconnected through my blog — and our friendship was reborn. It’s been rewarding getting to know each other all over again.

And that’s where Valentine’s Day comes in.

Collecting the mail one day, I wondered what a padded envelope from Linda might contain. Inside was a pretty Valentine card and a heartfelt note that had Nate’s name in it. She wrote, “I saw the thing that is in this package and thought instantly of you and Nate.”

I couldn’t imagine what it was but didn’t waste time guessing. Unrolling the red tissue, the first thing I saw was the back side of her gift. She’d written an inscription on the crème-colored stone, and these four words jumped out at me:

“In memory of Nate.”

 

It’s been years since anyone used those words in my hearing, and they touched me deeply, so much so that I broke into tears. No one remembers a man like his wife does, but knowing someone else was remembering him, too, surrounded me with comfort.

When I turned over Linda’s gift, I found a lacy red heart and the words, “I love our story.”

My sentiments exactly.

 

One widow friend told me recently the thing she most fears is that people will forget about her husband. With the passing of time, fewer friends mention him, and his face isn’t in any of their photos. No fresh stories surface about him, nor are there any memories that haven’t already been shared.

And maybe that’s why Linda’s gift meant so much to me. She suggested packing it away with my Valentine decorations, but I prefer keeping it next to Nate’s picture on my dresser, where I can see it every day.

“God loves a person who gives cheerfully.” (2 Corinthians 9:7)