by jphilo | Aug 22, 2011 | Family
This is one of those days when we’re thankful our former pet, Abby the dog, moved in with my brother and sister-in-law. She went to live with them a few years back, after Anne went to college, and I started traveling more.
This weekend, while we were helping Anne and her husband move, my sister-in-law texted to say Abby had had a seizure. A bad one that required sedation. The next text said Abby was doing better, but today’s message said they’d started again.
Worse than ever.
My sister-in-law, who created dog heaven on earth for Abby since she joined their family, is taking this health turn for the worse very hard. She said it’s hard to watch this pipsqueak of a critter suffer so. I can’t imagine what she’s going through.
But I do know this.
If not for my sister-in-law’s soft heart and willingness to welcome our former pet into her home, Abby would have suffered much more this weekend, kenneled while we were gone or being cared for by a friend. We would have worried and driven too fast to get home to her. Still she might have thought we’d abandoned her.
Instead, Abby feels loved.
Today, even suffering seizures, our former doggy is not alone. She’s surrounded by people who will do everything they can to alleviate her suffering. People who will cry for her and care for her and attend to her every need.
Thank you, Val, for loving her so.
by jphilo | Aug 19, 2011 | Family
After a day on the road (hence no blog post yesterday), we have arrived in paradise. This week’s paradise is the back yard of some of our strategically placed relatives. Their back yard ends where the lake starts. The lake is where their pontoon boat is docked. The pontoon boat is where Hiram did his devotions this morning. With a slightly less adventurous nature, I did my devotions on the sun porch. The sun porch ends where the back yard begins, the back yard that ends where the water begins. You get the picture.
Paradise.
We’re staying in paradise for a few days while we help the daughter and son-in-law move into their new Ohio digs. They’ve been staying in paradise all week, while the son-in-law attends graduate school orientation, the daughter job hunts, and the two of them do the bank thing, the driver’s license thing, and all the other stuff associated with moving. It’s been a pretty stressful week, but you know where they’ve been sleeping at night?
Paradise.
Now, I know some people consider bunking with relatives a dicey proposition. But for us, with a large extended family on both sides, its a godsend. We get to see paradise in a variety of shapes and sizes. Beside lakes in Ohio, Iowa, and Minnesota. In the mountains of Idaho and Alaska. Near the Black Hills of South Dakota. You name your paradise, we can find it. We love each visit with relatives in their far-flung paradises, but at the end of each trip, when we drive down our bumpy gravel road to the old farmhouse on the hill, surrounded by corn and hay fields, do you know where it feels like we’re going?
To paradise, of course.
by jphilo | Aug 16, 2011 | Family
This post from August 11, 2009 shows how life can change in two years. Our son and his fiance are now married. They are busy with their present jobs and contemplating new employment opportunities they hadn’t expected. Our daughter, who still lived with us two summers ago, moved to Ohio this week, where her husband will start grad school.
Two years later, we’re all too busy and too scattered for a family visit to the Iowa State Fair this year. But two things remains the same: the good relationships we have with our children and their spouses make these the best days, and the butter cow is as tacky as ever.
These Are the Best Days – Recycled
Our son called last night to say he and his fiance are coming this weekend. They want to go the State Fair Saturday. “We’d like you and Dad to come, too,” he said. After our call ended, I went upstairs and asked Anne if she wanted to come, too. “Yeah,” she said. “I’d love to.”
When I went to bed, something James Herriot said in one of the books in his All Things Wise and Wonderful series came to mind. He was talking about the days when his children were eight and ten, the age when they were old enough to be good company on his veterinary rounds and young enough to still believe he was smart. “I didn’t know it at the time,” he said in his book, “but those were the best years of all.”
For a long time I looked upon our years of parenting our kids through middle childhood in the same way, especially when Allen was away from us and struggling. But now that he is whole and in our lives again, along with the wonderful young woman he will marry, and now that Anne’s on the brink of independence and values every little scrap of wisdom we share with her, I think an even better time has come.
These days of sharing life with our adult children are the best by far. They’ve been rendered more precious by having been denied them for seven long years, so precious, in fact, that I don’t have to wait until the future to realize what a treasure they are. I recognize now, today, what a treasure it is to have my children with me.
No matter how hot it is Saturday, no matter how much my feet hurt, no matter how tacky the butter cow may be, I will be truly grateful all day long.
So, what’s changed in your life and what’s stayed the same in the last two years? What’s the tackiest thing you’ve seen at the Iowa State Fair? Leave a comment, so we can compare notes.
by jphilo | Aug 9, 2011 | Family
Today’s recycled post from August 8, 2009 is one of my all time faves, for several reasons. First, the accompanying photo is downright gorgeous. Second, the post is a good reminder of how much things change. Third, the post is a good reminder of how things stay the same.
Two years later the heritage geraniums are blooming their deep, intense red. Two years later, Mom’s Alzheimer’s is slowly and inexorably advancing. Two years later, she’s still with us. She’s still here.
Geranium Whispers – Recycled
On this rainy Friday morning, I bustled around the house, opening window shades. The clouds were thick and the house was gloomy, so I eagerly coaxed the weak light that penetrated the clouds inside for a visit.
When I opened the shades to the patio, the blossoms of an heirloom geranium took my breath away. Mom gave me the plant over a year ago, when she still lived in her own home and had no idea she would soon break up housekeeping. Decades before her mother, Josephine Newell Hess, had given her a slip from the plant her mother, Cora Rose Newell, had given her a slip from in the 1940s.
Had Mom waited one more winter, it might have been too late to pass on the plant and the history behind it. In the past twelve months, Alzheimer’s has taken its relentless toll on her memory, stamina, and abilities. Our daily phone calls get shorter and shorter as she finds it increasingly difficult to hold up her end of a conversation. She still loves to read and do crossword puzzles, but has no interest in visiting friends or going new places. Quilting and jigsaw puzzles confuse her. She can’t make decisions.
Slowly but surely, Alzheimer’s is turning my steely, determined mother into a soft, hesitant whisper of a woman. But this morning, when I opened the shade and those bright red blossoms waved at me, they comforted me and reminded me that all is not lost.
“She’s with you,” they whispered. “She’s right here.”
“Thanks,” I said, and then I waved back.
by jphilo | Jul 26, 2011 | Family
A quick look through July posts from the past few years, and this week’s recycled post was a no brainer. Two years ago this week, Allen called with big news that delighted us all. He and the love of his life were engaged. Our delight (and theirs) has only increased in the past two years. Abbey and Allen complement one another beautifully, and she is a blessing to our family.
Big News – Recycled
On Sunday, the last full day of our vacation, an email with the subject line “ET Phone Home” landed in my inbox. The cryptic message from my sister said, “You and Hiram need to call Allen (HE IS FINE), no need for angst.”
Immediately, I knew our son had one of two things to tell us. Either his beloved truck Rumblefish had died, or he and Abbey were engaged. I was pretty sure it was the second because he’d told me he was saving for a ring. A few minutes later, he confirmed my hunch. He’d surprised Abbey on Thursday evening with the question and the ring. She cried and said yes.
Allen and Abbey took us to supper after our flight from Spokane to Minneapolis Monday. The wedding details haven’t been fleshed out, but they’re tossing about a tentative date of April 10, 2010. The word “happy” does not adequately describe either their delight with one another or the fun we had talking about wedding plans.
Those of you who’ve been following Allen’s story know he was in a monastery for over five years, preparing to take final vows as a monk, and that he left at the end of last November to be treated for post-traumatic stress disorder. So you may be thinking, “Hmm, this seems like a pretty fast 180 degree turn.” On the surface, that’s exactly what it looks like. But if you look back six or seven years, to the days before Allen entered the monastery, you’ll see Abbey in the picture. She and Allen first met after their junior year of high school, and they clicked immediately.
But the full story is theirs to tell, not mine. I’ll just say that for me it illustrates how God uses His mercy, grace, healing and restoration to meet the deepest needs of our hearts and set all things right. So welcome to the family, Abbey. You are a joy beyond anything we could have imagined or conceived.
by jphilo | Jul 25, 2011 | Family
My cousin, Leo Hess, was featured this past Sunday’s edition of the Sioux Falls Argus-Leader. He’s one of the thirty-nine grandchildren born to the eight offspring of Vernon and Josephine Hess, formerly of Pipestone, Minnesota.
Cousin Leo owns a motorcycle repair and souper-upper shop in Sioux Falls. He’s also a former motorcycle drag racer who was severely injured a few years back when he tried to set a speed record at Utah’s Bonneville Salt Flats. You can read the story about his crash, recovery, and work, as well as watch a video of Leo at the Argus-Leader website.
Before you cruise over there, I want to reassure those of you who know me well that Leo and I are really, truly cousins even though…
He was a dare devil growing up, and I was a goody-two shoes.
He likes speed, and I don’t.
He’s a gifted mechanic while engines are a mystery to me.
He defines motorcycles by brand and engine type, while I define them by color.
He likes to ride Harleys, and I like to look at red bikes with lots of sparkle.
But we are cousins, and we have one family trait in common. Neither the video or the article mentions this trait. It was passed along by another cousin. Leo raises geraniums in his motorcycle shop. They could be offspring of the heritage geranium passed down from Grandma Josie’s mother to Grandma, to her children and then to her grandchildren. They could be related to the offspring that grace my flower gardens in the summer and winter over in my home. Or they could be a different strain of entirely. Either way, this mutual love of flowers can be traced directly from Grandma Josie to her descendants.
So when you read the story about Leo, picture him watering his geraniums.
Imagine him enjoying their red, sparkly blossoms.
Imagine him breathing in their spicy scent.
Imagine him thinking about the geraniums on Grandma Josie’s windowsill.
Now can you see the family resemblance?
