Grandma

 

Ethel Mildred Papik was married to Albert August Witter on October 5th, 1921.  I, their second grandchild, was born on their twenty-sixth wedding anniversary.  This coincidence of dates always made me feel special.  But then again, my Grandma Witter always made me feel special.   

She lived to see me grow to adulthood, marry and become a mother.  She held and loved my first three children before she passed away on Christmas Day 1980.  She absolutely loved Christmas and it seems right that she arrived in heaven on that day.

Anyone who knew my mother, Eileen, my Uncle Joe or my Aunt Jolene know that even though economic times were difficult early in their marriage, Millie and Albert raised three strong people!  Devout Christians, and dynamic, loving family people, the Witter's and their children left an impact on the world as well as in my heart and the hearts of many.

My Grandpa Witter passed away on New Year's Day 1959 when I was eleven years old.  He was deeply loved and admired and in the prime of his career working for the Illinois Central Railroad.  He had just left our home in Nebraska days earlier to return to work when he suffered a massive heart attack in Gibson City, Illinois.  Grandma was staying with us a few extra days and was in fact helping my mother pack away the Christmas tree decorations when the phone call came in.  I knew Grandma loved Grandpa immensely and the sounds she made when she heard of his passing told me just how much.  There are some things one never forgets!  I am reminded of their great love each year when I pack away the holiday decorations.

Now, as a grandmother myself, I can say that all of the thoughts of my grandparents are happy ones.  I loved them perfectly, even though they were not perfect.  I can only pray that my grandchildren will remember me the same way.

My husband and I coincidentally settled in the same community as my widowed grandmother when as a young married couple we drove to visit her and found model homes on display.  On a cold, snowy February day we toured a house built on speculation in a new subdivision and made an offer that day.  We loved living close to Grandma, as well as near Aunt Jolene and her family, as we made our first house into a home. 

Grandma Witter was a great listener.  In fact I believe that is the quality I loved most about her, even though she was talented in many other ways as well.  When I was pregnant with my first child I attended LaMaze classes and shared the information with my grandma.  She listened carefully as I was so excited to tell her every detail about managing labor!  After my son was born, following a lengthy labor and unmedicated birth, I told Grandma all about the experience.  I will never forget when she said to me then, "I wanted to tell you it would hurt honey".  She always listened carefully and her advice, if given, was supportive and expressed in love.  As she saw me with my three babies over the following four years, she listened to all of my ideas on breastfeeding and child rearing.  As we talked together, she would tell me what she knew also.  Conversations always flowed easily because I had learned from an early age from her about respect, love and trust.

In earlier years when I was a child, growing up in Nebraska, I spent weeks during the summer in Kankakee, Illinois visiting my grandparents.  Sometimes my grandparents took me to their home on a long road trip.  This was prior to the Interstate Highway system and I remember how loving and respectful they always were with each other.  Other times, my Grandma would take me to or from her house on the train.  Because she had employee rail passes we would have our own private sleeping compartment.  This, of course, was a great adventure and such a special time together.

I loved these summers with my grandparents!  My Grandma always took my downtown to buy me a new pair of shoes.  I would visit the hotel restaurant, the Alden's beauty salon and the Merle Norman makeup studio with her.  Of course we would stop at the train depot and visit Grandpa at work also.  Every Sunday the three of us drove to St. Paul's Lutheran Church near the depot and attended worship service together.  Then we would go to a nearby drugstore, and while my grandparents had coffee and chatted with friends, I could explore the store.

My Grandma shared many of her talents with me.  She taught me to sew, both by hand embroidery and on her treadle Singer sewing machine.  I learned to make samplers to hang on the wall and give as gifts as well as learned garment construction.  She taught so easily and gently as she made learning fun.  My Grandma Witter was an amazing cook and baker!  She taught me many tips in the kitchen.  We would oftentimes eat in the living room on tv trays, however each tray was nicely presented and filled with a balanced homemade meal.  I still use the handwritten recipe book she gave me as a wedding gift.  

After Grandpa passed away my visits remained a very special part of my summers.  Grandma taught me how to keep a house neat and do a job well.  She even taught me a little poem to that effect. Her bed was made each morning and the dirty dishes never lingered long in the sink.  At one point later in her life she had fallen and broken her hip. After her recovery she required one shoe made a bit taller to accommodate her uneven gait.  I don't ever remember hearing her complain.  Acceptance came easily to her as she trusted God to help her through life.  My Grandma Witter was beautiful inside and out.  She always had her hair done nicely, her "face on" and wore a dress, hose and shoes every day.  The days the "Avon Lady" visited were special. Grandma and I played many games and loved our Canasta challenges.  She had a small bookshelf at the end of her couch and I enjoyed reading the Reader's Digest Condensed stories.  I watched the first Happy Days episode with her.  Grandma always stayed up on the current news of the day and I learned to respect the importance of journalism.  I became good friends with the girls my age who lived on either side of Grandma's house.  We played together often and were allowed to visit the brand new shopping mall together several streets away.  After it rained we could splash barefoot in the water that ran down the street near the curb.  At the end of each day I would sleep next to Grandma and as we said goodnight we always prayed The Lord's Prayer together. 

While a teenager, after my family moved to Illinois, I saw my Grandma more frequently.  I so enjoyed seeing her with my younger cousins.  She taught me how to love young children and that as a grandparent it was okay to spoil them just a bit.  Her youngest grandchild, Michael, could ask Grandma to make pancakes any time of day and she would happily do it for him. Also during these years the three families would gather together at Grandma's house for holidays.  I so enjoyed these gatherings and time with my aunts and uncles and older cousins too.  Christmas was the most special occasion and Grandma insisted on making the entire meal herself.  In her latter years she made sequined ornaments for each family member as well.  We exchanged gifts, took pictures, ate a grand meal and played games.  Christmas meant family time at Grandma's and everyone looked forward to it!

Now that I am a 73 year old grandmother I think of Grandma Witter at specific times.  When I am sewing on black fabric I am reminded of how she would tell me how difficult this task was.  At the time I couldn't understand, but now my old eyes do indeed understand.  When she would get in the car to drive I would wait patiently for her to remove her glasses and put on her prescription sunglasses.  Now I do the same thing when I get in the car.  There was a specific side street path she would take to avoid turning left on Kennedy Drive without a stoplight.  I do the same thing.  I too have a grandson named Michael.  I don't believe I have made pancakes for him other than at breakfast time, however, he, along with his nine cousins, know that Grandma would do just about anything for any one of them.  And when it is Christmastime, gathering together with family seems like the perfect, most comforting, loving, busy culmination of the year.  

Other than these specific times when I remember Grandma Witter, I do believe she is also softy woven into the fabric of who I am.  Unwavering faith and trust in God; expressive and unconditional love for every family member; understanding current events and the world; having moral values, patience, kindness and respect; spending time with and valuing young children: fostering independence and wise decision making as children grow; enjoying travel; keeping a clean house; overcoming adversity and loss; perseverance and logic; love and respect for people outside of family;  enjoyment of books and games; understanding that listening carefully is the most important aspect of conversation; creativity and hospitality; limiting unsolicited advice giving; respecting traditions and family gatherings: are all gifts my Grandma Witter gave to me by living her simple, ordinary, extraordinary life.

Grandma was born one hundred and twenty years ago and has now been gone for forty years.  In five days her daughter, my mother, has been gone for one year.  Here I am to carry on.  Here I am to love and care for my husband, my children, my grandchildren, my friends and yes, my fellowman, known and unknown.  God gave me two amazing women to show me the way.  I am forever grateful for His many gifts, and in His strength I carry on the great traditions and ideals set before me.  

Grandma Witter your love lives in me and I will pass it along to those who come after me.

Unknown

Walking along a sunlit forest path, you have no idea when a tree branch strewn across the path might knock you off your feet causing a painful sprain to your ankle or a scrape to your knee, or when storm clouds might suddenly fill the sky and burst forth with an unknown downpour drenching you.  Or even worse yet, one really doesn't know if a cliff awaits off to one side of the path and as your shoe hits loose rocks, you may completely lose your footing and tumble head over heals down a mountainside and find yourself trapped with a major injury or even worse.  On the other hand, one's journey through the forest may be refreshing to the body and soul, with beautiful vistas to be seen and contemplated. Or you might find a contentment of fulfilling exercise goals and spending quality time with someone special walking alongside you.  Perhaps, nature at it's best intrigues you and taking in plant and animal life gives you satisfaction.  Although you think you know where you are heading and what to expect, no one actually knows for certain where the path will lead or what obstacles might arise.  Oftentimes we cannot control the unknowns we come across.  Usually though we can control our response and learn from the adventure wherever it takes us.  We can also find joy where we least expect to find it.

One year ago this week I was at the airport waiting to embark on an amazing adventure.  I was taking an unaccompanied "path" to Japan, followed by a trip to Thailand and Vietnam.  Following this trip to the other side of the world I was looking forward to returning home and celebrating the Fall and Winter holidays, a family Christmas, and a happy 2020.  My family and myself were all in good health and two new grandchildren were on the way to joining our family.  Hubby and I were enjoying our retirement as well as making plans for a cruise vacation and future travel together.  You could say I was literally on top of the world as I flew over Alaska and Russia on my way to Japan.  My path looked straight and clear.

Overjoyed to be with my daughter and her family in Japan, we reconnected as we awaited the birth of her fifth child and my ninth grandchild.  With the birth of a beautiful healthy baby in early October we were overjoyed.  Two days later our joy was dampened, for while celebrating my birthday we received news that my mother had suffered a serious brain bleed and was not expected to survive.  And thus our grieving as a family, residing in three countries, began, and my path changed unexpectedly.  I headed home early away from my daughter and her hubby, the sweet new baby and his four darling siblings, totally missing my vacation time planned in Thailand and Vietnam with my son and his family.  I arrived home after my mother had passed but in time to plan her funeral and host out of town family. The following week I was present as she was laid to her rest during a trip for Hubby and me to her burial place next to my dad.  Several days after our return, on October 31st an early snow covered our Midwestern town and perhaps we could have seen the unusual snowfall as a reminder that nothing is for certain and anything can happen.  The path, so filled with hope and promise in September, had been rocky indeed.

2020 arrived with all the hope each new year brings.  I celebrated New Year's Day at home with three of my children and their families before taking my son to the airport the following day.  He and his family flew home to Thailand and I looked forward to seeing them later in the year when they returned for their annual visit.  Of course now we know that being together again remains unknown.  The world is a different place and circumstances and travel restrictions have changed for everyone.  

As 2020 continued we all soon began the terrifying slide down the analogous mountainside.  For me, even before Covid-19 had spread to the entire USA, I faced an emergent illness and hospital stay, a cancer scare and surgical procedure and the death of my dear aunt, who was laid to rest in February. Shortly thereafter the shutdown began. 

Six months ago, on March 14th, Hubby and I went shopping in a store, got a haircut and picked up food from Applebees.  That's the last time we have done any of those things.  Other than necessary doctor and dental appointments, we have sheltered in place with time for local family visits planned in advance with all involved cooperating with social distancing.  This is our personal choice and we respect that others have made different choices.  Our new normal includes shopping online, picking up groceries in the trunk of our vehicle and experimenting with home haircuts.  With avoiding restaurants and fast food venues, we have learned that cooking and baking at home has many benefits.  Our love of going to the theater and the movies has been temporarily satisfied via cable tv.  We worship online with our church family in Florida.  I have taken up an old hobby and found fulfillment in giving to others.  Not being able to go to the fitness center, Hubby enjoys his walks around the neighborhood where he spreads his distanced cheer to everyone he meets.

Remarkably we have done very well during these six months.   We have found joy in celebrating the birth of our tenth grandchild, attending the birthday parade for our four-year-old grandson, socially distancing at the Sweet Sixteen birthday of our oldest grandchild and celebrating our Fiftieth Wedding Anniversary with a drive by party.  Each of these occasions, although different than originally planned, was filled with joy and thanksgiving.  The times we could be together with family here have been truly happy times.  Although we realize nothing is normal, and once in a while our gatherings are bittersweet as we realize life as we knew it has changed and we long for the days before Covid and wonder when things will be normal again.

Thus we have learned that our life path in 2020 is challenging. This six months of slipping down the mountainside have not been all rosy and joy-filled.  We have seen neighbors struggle through Covid and recently had a scare of our own.  Hubby has had a recent hospitalization and new diagnosis.  We have learned to deeply appreciate the essential hospital workers in our time of need.  We attended the burial of our son-in-law's father while not feeling we could attend the indoor events.  We have grieved with others while not being able to attend memorial services.  We have prayed for a friend recently diagnosed with returning cancer and we pray for a cousin on Hospice.  We have cried at the deaths and illnesses of so many people here and around the world.  Having children in three countries, we have prayed mightily for each person's safe-keeping as well as for our friends and families in many areas.  We prayed as our daughter gave birth in the Spring during the height of the coronavirus pandemic in Chicago and were sad when we could only see our new granddaughter through glass when she came home from the birthing center.  We prayed too as six of our grandchildren in three different countries recently returned to school during a pandemic and as our daughter and son-in-law return to teaching as well.  There have been many challenges for each of us as I know there has been for each of you.    

Although we have been in our home for much of the time, we are well aware of the political climate and the divisiveness in this country and are deeply saddened by it. The Black Lives Matter cause has certainly been on our hearts and minds as well, as it directly impacts our family, and as it challenges our personal thoughts and actions.  We have seen long-standing friendships and family relationships challenged in light of so many issues in our world. We have seen truth marginalized and no cohesiveness of thought in our local community or our country. Instead of coming together in difficult times, relationships have been torn apart.  There has been much to deal with and to consider during 2020 and much to pray about indeed!  Who had any idea the 2020 path would be so filled with pitfalls?

Yes, I am still clinging on as I work to stay on my path.  I have learned many things:  Virtual hugs do not feel the same, but poignantly mean the same.  Don't take anything or anyone for granted.  Respect for each other is more important than ever.  Encouragement means so much.  My ideas may be different than yours but that doesn't mean they are wrong.  The sun still rises and sets each day.  God still sits on His throne and Jesus still lives in my heart.  Family and friendships are still the most precious gifts we have and relationships need to be cherished and cultivated.  Kindness matters and can be expressed digitally as well as in person.  Safety and security matters to everyone.  Journalistic integrity still matters.  Science still matters. Actions still matters.  Faith still matters.  Babies are still being born and people are still dying.  We have a finite time on this planet.  Hate, fear and lies are not beneficial.  Truth and facts matter.  Caring for and working towards the common good still matters.  So many lessons and thoughts as I reflect!

As far as I've gone in one year, I am amazed at the strength I still have in spite of the slips, falls, missteps, mistakes, illnesses, joys and sorrow I have encountered.  I am a different person this September than last September and hopefully a better one.  So many days of this path seemed difficult but wow, what character they have built in me.  I was so weak some days, but God saw me through.  Whether I was weak or strong, sad or happy, anxious or in peace He remained the same, and thus my journey continues knowing this to be true.  I walk forward and hope that my response to my journey in some way uplifts you as you travel along.  As I have said for many years to strangers and friends alike, "We're all in this together."

The path of 2020 had a beginning and will have an end.  On December, 31st we will reach the end of this path and at midnight I believe we will all rejoice that it is over.  No doubt we will feel like we have completed a marathon.  We will begin a yet unknown 2021.  Hopefully we enter it just a little wiser and a whole lot stronger, remembering the many life lessons we are learning this year.  We each can build on what we have learned about ourselves, about our families, about the society we live in and perhaps societies that seem foreign to us, and about the planet we share.  May we bring our best selves into the future as we reflect on the lessons we have incorporated along the way.  

May joy and peace, wisdom and hope, patience and gratitude, faith and love, along with sweetness and harmony be yours wherever your path leads.

Walking

Do you remember what you were doing on Sunday afternoon, May 25th, 1986?  Our young family of five along with my Grandpa Beezy in a wheelchair and my dear Aunt Ginny, and neighbors and friends from the community were standing in the middle of the closest major intersection near our house in a little community about an hour south of Chicago.  It was the Hands Across America event designed to raise awareness and contributions towards hunger and homelessness.  The concept was to form a human chain across our country.  Holding hands was to be a symbol of our unity as a nation.

Wow, have times changed!  Now, suddenly we are asked to distance ourselves, not only as a practical life-saving strategy but also because we care about each other.  Six feet suddenly seems like the greatest distance in the world!  

Oh, to hold a hand right now!

Thus far, in my walk through this uncertain time, I am constantly reminded of what I always took for granted.  I could make a long list of these precious things currently missing from my life, as could each of you.  We are daily, even moment by moment, reminded of these things.  No matter how long my list might be however, on the top of that list is the ability to give and receive a hug.

Three days ago my seven-year-old granddaughter, along with her daddy and mommy came knocking on our patio door as a surprise.  They brought smiles, encouragement and a couple of grocery items.  Yesterday my three-year-old grandson came to play in our backyard while his daddy and pregnant mommy sat several feet away from us on the patio.  Having only seen these dear ones on a device screen for several days, it was delightful to see them in person!  However the yearning to touch them and hug them was unbearably sad.  Emotions I have never felt came pouring out of some place I had never gone to before.

Yes, for each of us the life we had has changed forever.  Perhaps only in a movie could we have imagined this life we are now living, the plot of which would have seemed like fiction three weeks ago.  Oh, it was so much easier when this story was taking place on the other side of the world.  We could watch the news and think, thank goodness that's not happening here.  

For me it was a bit too real as I have two families I love dearly who are living in the far east.  My son and my daughter and their families were closer to the epicenter of disaster and that made it more worrisome for me.  However, it was still far away from my daily life, and perhaps to shelter my own response, I kept my emotions in check.  

Now, not only one country, or one region share this awful thing, but the entire world shares it.  This is the reality.  This is the fact.  This is how the world is connected, and a result of how the world is connected.  We can debate who did what to make it worse or who made the best decisions along the way but the fact is we, the world, are all in this together.  If we debate, let our discourse be for the common good and to prevent this from ever happening again.

The tragic losses, the physical and emotional suffering, the fear of the unknown, the loss of control and the major and minor daily inconveniences are our new reality.  None of us knows what the next hour or the next day will bring.  The only thing we can do is to keep walking through this.

I choose to walk through this new reality living my best life possible right now.  Oh yes, there have been tears.  I let them flow and then I take a moment to refocus and get on with my walk. I am going to follow scientific data that indicates social distancing is the best thing for me, for my immediate family living in three different countries, for my neighbors and community and for the potential benefit to every single person in the world.  I am going to encourage you to do the same.  I am going to be grateful for all the people who are on the front lines.  Their sacrifice is truly incredible! I am staying busy within my own little world hopefully still contributing by sewing masks and by staying in touch and encouraging each of you.  I am going to pray that good things can come out of what we are going through, and of course I am praying for a swift end to this world pandemic as well as our safe keeping.  

Gratitude, along with distancing and encouraging and praying and walking is all I can do. It is also everything I can do.  In my mind the way the 2020 version of Hands Across America (and the World) works is that we are standing six feet apart from each other, but perhaps when we have walked through this time together we will be closer than ever.   Our new perspective will have forever changed. May we be willing to learn the lessons form this walk and have a better understanding of what is truly important!

Keep walking!  

Keep loving!

And oh yes, keep hoping that hugs will never be restricted again!

Homecoming

The sun was shining brightly on the October day in Iowa...the day I took my mother home.

So much had led to this morning.  Saying goodbye, with tears pouring down my cheeks at the airport in Okinawa, while the two-year-old called over and over, "Good-bye Grandma" was a moment I will never forget.  Leaving my daughter and her family of seven too early was painful.  Rerouting my itinerary to make it back home to avoid the typhoon and sitting in an airport in Seoul made the trip home almost surreal.  Saying hello to the daughters who had been by my mother's side during her last days and at the moment of death was sweetness and tragedy mixed together.  Their strength in my absence is a gift I will hold in my heart forever.  Settling into home with my dear Hubby after a three week absence was comforting and safe as the jet lag hung mysteriously over me and funeral plans were being made.  Oh the emotions as I arrived home to begin my mother's homecoming!

Days later family surrounded us for a short time.  They arrived from near and far.  Friends came and shared their fond memories and condolences.  Everyone was here and then they were gone.  The love, the togetherness, the tears, the laughter, the remembering, the stories, the sorting, the visitation and the funeral...it was a blur.  It was all good.  It was blessed.  Suddenly it was over.  Mother was honored but she was not yet home.

Twenty-five years ago I had not the strength to go to Iowa for my father's burial.  I thought I didn't have the strength to go and so I did not go.  I have always regretted that moment of weakness, that moment I thought I could not do one more act of public grieving.

This time I was the only one to accomplish the task.  I accepted that.  Hubby and I moved forward with the plan.  I would take my mother home.

A bus ride, and airplane trip and a rental car helped us accomplish the mission.  We arrived at my hometown of Council Bluffs, Iowa.  We drove around looking for places I remembered...my house on Bluff street, my elementary school, Bloomer School, my grandparents home on Locust Lodge, the church, St Paul's Lutheran, where my parents were married.  The places I remembered were precious to me on this October day.

The next morning Hubby and I arrived at the cemetery.  The hill to my parent's gravesite was as I remembered.  The roses in my arms felt precious as I had chosen four roses for each of our parents.  For my dad there were three red roses and one pink rose.  For my mother there were three white roses and one pink rose.  Yes, our parents had produced one dear pink girl and three handsome, precious sons.

The funeral director from Illinois was present.  He had driven from Illinois to western Iowa with our mother's remains.  Also present was the pastor from the church where our parents were married in Council Bluffs.  All was in order as I gazed at the hillside Hubby and I had to traverse.

As if heaven opened to me, all of a sudden, there was family arriving.  My cousin, who I had never met, had arrived to help me through this moment.  She brought her husband and told me that her brother would also soon be arriving.  There, in the midst of emptiness, she and her family arrived as if a multitude of angels had appeared.

The depth of the cold morning hit me as we sat down for the committal service.  I was shivering as the pastor began.  I reached for my newfound cousin's hand.  I thought I couldn't do this thing.  But I knew I was not alone.  My father's family was there with me.  I could do this thing...this bringing my mother home.

I look back now to this moment in Iowa.  It was blessed indeed!  Hubby and I were there along with the family that were meant to be with us.  My mother, along with my father were with their maker.  They were surrounding us with heaven that October day.  Their remains, all that we could claim, were on that gentle sloping hill in a cemetery in Iowa, but their souls were together and far beyond what we could even hope or imagine.

The sun was shining brightly on the October day in Iowa...the day I took my mother home.

Reality

Caught somewhere between the reality of a three-year-old and a ninety-six-year-old, my daughter and I found joy on this day in late July.  

It was somehow a terribly busy day in which we failed to accomplish all we set out to do.  Then came that moment.

My mother who has recently suffered from bouts of dementia, especially when ill, began to tell a story.  Four generations were traveling in my van together to take her for a scan of her neck.  Yes, she had broken her neck in January and needed one final CT scan, however that is a story for another day.  She began by saying,  "I was going to ask Justin if this was real or not."  She continued to tell an amazing story about her new apartment.  "You know there is a fire alarm on one wall and a phone thing on another wall.  Well, sparks were shooting between them and the alarm was making a sound like it was on fire."  On and on she went with her story.  

I reassured her, as I had done previously many times.  I gently reminded her that if something seems too unusual or unreal, it must not really be happening.  She patiently listened to me, and whether she accepted my analysis or not, she sweetly did not argue.  Rather she described in more detail what she had "seen".  

Three-year-old Wesley in the back seat was listening intently!  I reassured him that what Beezy thought she saw was not real.

After a few minutes of quiet had passed, Wesley began telling a story.  "Flames and sparks were shooting from the wall.  The firefighters and police officers came to help."  Wesley went on and on with his own animated version of the "spark story".

We were driving through the countryside and Beezy, my mother, began singing about the corn growing in Iowa...a song I had heard often as a child.  Wesley told her the music would make the police officer stop our car.

And so our morning went.  Wesley's mother and myself smiled and smiled.  And patiently listened.

The three-year-old and the ninety-six-year-old had stories to tell us.

We were blessed today to be the listeners.  And to contemplate the circle of life.  Today we fit in the middle of the circle and could tell reality from fiction.  Some day we will be somewhere else in the circle.  Hopefully, someone will be listening with joy to our reality.  Hopefully someone will still love us not matter what!

House

Excitement prevailed for this family of five one day in May nearly thirty-one years ago.  Dad, Mom and three school aged children were moving into their big new house.  Oh it was kind of an ugly house, built in 1978 and still decorated in browns and had lots of paneling.  The carpet was the ugliest ever seen!  But the brown house was nice and big and would be a great house for our large family. Sitting on that ugly carpet in the living room we ate our first meal together along with our gracious movers, friends, who volunteered their services.

Before we knew it, after some significant renovations, the house began to feel like home.  Celebrations began as birthdays came along in the house on Princeton Avenue.  Children, grandchildren, mom and dad were celebrated. Yes, there were lots of birthday parties, each one creating memories along the way and honoring life and family.

In this house, weddings and babies were celebrated with showers.  People were welcomed into the family at engagement parties.  Anniversaries were a time for reflection and a celebration of continuing love.  The season of tea parties began while we lived in this house and The Bourbonnais Tea Ladies became a symbol and vehicle for lifetime friendships.  

The house sheltered friends who gathered in.  There were so many people! Friends of each of our children, as well as the many friends we met along life's way, came through our front door. They all graced the house with their presence and their personalities.  Hopefully people went away a bit happier for joining in with our family.  Some came into our lives for a season and some for a lifetime.

We brought our fourth child home from the hospital to this house.  "It's A Girl" printed on a sign, draped the large front window to hale her homecoming.  All the thrill of new life along with the sleepless nights were lived here for our final time as new parents.  The sweet joy of babyhood filled these walls.  And before we knew it, that joy arrived again at the birth of our first grandchild, Elliana, who came home to our house as a newborn.

Yes, children have filled the brown house on Princeton!  For the first eleven years, a daycare business was operated here.   Over eighty children grew and played.  Big wheel bikes squealed down the gently sloping driveway along with sounds of laughter being heard up and down the street.  The backyard, which we fenced in, was a wonderful play yard, complete with swing set, sandbox, castles and forts.  And in the summer a "Slip N Slide" and small pool provided hours of joy.

Four teenagers passed through this house and grew into adults.  Lots of laughter and teasing was shared.  Events and graduations were celebrated.  Four kids learned to drive while we lived at the Princeton house.  Four college searches were accomplished. And, at times, doors were slammed, harsh words were spoken, guidance was given and tears were shed. In the end, four amazing, capable adults emerged.  They went away to college and eventually found spouses.  They moved in and out of our house as they began their early adulthood.  We all learned a lot!

And now, they gather back into our house, their childhood home.  They all made us grandparents and the eight little people who call us Grandma and Grandpa are such a delight to us.  Each birth filled our hearts with incredible joy, and each time the children and grandchildren came through the front door more memories were made.  Each Christmas and Easter, along with any other day of the year were reasons to gather together. The house even sheltered four generations at many of our gatherings as the "Greatest Generation" visited and loved and shared their wisdom with all of us.  Eventually a wheelchair was carried up and down the front steps to accomplish our gatherings.

Of course we had a good time keeping the Princeton house looking it's best inside and out.  Over the years many decorating projects were accomplished to keep the house looking nice, and stylish as well. One summer three teenagers painted the exterior and oh, what an experience that was! A bedroom was added as our family grew.  Eventually a wall between bedrooms was removed because so many bedrooms were no longer needed.  In later years we worked on making a perennial garden in the back yard and felt a sense of accomplishment as the plants pushed through the ground and grew bigger each year.  The beauty was truly enjoyed.  The fence, which was no longer needed, was removed.    

The brown house on Princeton sheltered us though many recoveries from surgeries, too many to count actually.  We came home to our sweet house, and through it all, the home therapies, the IV treatments, the tube feedings, all was accomplished within the walls of our house.  Learning to walk again over and over was a pattern too often followed.  However the most essential goal of recovery was achieved numerous times for both hubby and for me.

Recently we realized that our dear house on Princeton is too difficult to take care of.  The steps that we used to run up and down are now a challenge.  Taking care of the lawn and exterior has become too difficult and we are counting on the help of our kids and neighbors more and more.  And before our eyes we realize we can't stay in this house any more. It is time to say goodbye and find a house where we will be safe and also independent.  The home search has begun

.All of a sudden, but not really, everything changes!

                                                               ++++++++++++++++

Never having completed this blog entry, I come to finish it now nearly one and a half years later.  We are settled in our new house, the tan ranch on Bethel, and of course, are already making new memories here.  However, I wanted to finish my thoughts on the brown house on Princeton where so much of our life as a family of six happened.  When we sold that house, I wrote a personal note to the young family moving in there, a family of four.  I told them of all the little idiosyncrasies about the house that only we knew and I wished them a happy life. Once I wrote my thoughts to them I could move on. The new family has already made lots of changes inside and out, making the house their own, and that is the way it should be

With the help of our local children and their spouses, we staged, we packed, we stored, we cleaned, we listed, we sold and we moved.  Saying goodbye to the house was not difficult for hubby and me, for we knew the time had come to move on with life in a different place.  

Thank you brown house on Princeton.  You did a great job providing four walls where we could make a home for so many years.  You showed us that a house, even a seemingly ugly house at first glance, can become a home...a home where all six of us became the people we are today.   

Facebook

Facebook has become more than any of us ever imagined it would be.  Personally, I enjoy it for the most part.  I obtain a lot of news daily from news agency feeds I subscribe to.  I skip by the ads and have learned I don't need to read everything that comes through my feed.  Most importantly however, I enjoy seeing what my friends post.  I loved the end of the school year photos and of course the prom and graduation photos.  I find joy in seeing your babies and kids.  I like to hear about the fun you are having on your vacation and enjoy your smiles in new places.  I appreciate my friends who post the rainfall amounts. I feel close to you when prayer is requested or an obituary or Go Fund Me comes along. I even appreciate the opinion posts that so many of you put up.

I will admit it makes me happy when you like my posts.  And believe me when I say, it makes me feel closer to you.  I have relationships with people I would not have in any other way.  Friends from my childhood and brand new neighbors fill my thoughts as Facebook provides a forum for us to communicate.  Many of my children's friends are my friends also and I absolutely love seeing you succeed in life and raise your families.  If you are my friend on Facebook that means I care about you.  It's as simple as that.

Delighted am I indeed to live in a country where I, and all of you, are free to say what we believe!  I understand that we enjoy freedoms in this country that people elsewhere envy.  When I put up a post on Facebook or comment on yours, that is an honest opinion from me and I believe it also is an invitation to you to give your opinion.

My thoughts ran deep yesterday as my friend and I spent the day together.  We chose the excursion to the Illinois Holocaust Museum knowing it would be interesting but also heart-wrenching.  Heart-wrenching indeed it was!  Standing in a railway car which once traveled back and forth loaded with one hundred people at a time crammed into the space for four days hit a spot in me that words cannot describe!  In fact, I cannot write any more on this subject.  It is too close right now.

To my surprise there was also a special exhibit on slavery in this country from 1808 to 1865.  Interestingly the other three people in our excursion were black ladies of our generation.  Also interestingly enough, my friend and I both have  grandchildren who are biracial.  So as we walked through the exhibit each of us were touched in unique and profound ways.  Seeing ads in newspapers of the time which advertised lots in reference to selling people was absolutely indescribably shocking.  The entire exhibit made me sick.  How could people have done that?  How could people have watched them do it?  How does anyone think this is not still impacting us today?

The lovely elderly docent, a Jewish woman of course, who showed us through the museum asked us to notice that during both of the eras described above, there were people who remained silent.  She suggested that they were as much to blame as those who committed horrendous acts against their fellow man.

As you can imagine, my friend and I were tired physically and emotionally by the end of the day, having toured the Chicago Botanical Gardens as well as the museum.  The day was a moment in time for us to reflect and also to enjoy our longtime friendship.

And so, after my day, thinking of all of you, I shared some very brief thoughts on Facebook...opening my heart to you.

Honestly, I had no idea my short post would generate a debate between my friends.  However, I respect that each of you had the right to say what you wanted, and needed, to say.  The fact that we don't agree is fine as long as we can accept that my ideas may be different than yours.  And that's okay.

And thus the abortion debate came about.  

I would like to state my personal thoughts on the subject once again.  I personally could never choose to have an abortion.  I do believe every person conceived is unique in all the world.  My four children are precious to me beyond words...as are the four babies I lost when they were only very small embryos.  At the time I carried them they were as precious to me as the four who grew nine months within me.

My experiences have helped form my beliefs.  One of the children I lost was growing in my fallopian tube.  That embryo was cut from me because it could have killed me if left where it had implanted.  That decision was made between me and my physician.  One of the children I carried to full-term could have been aborted as well.  Twenty weeks into the pregnancy a blood test was performed, which I did not know about, and I was told that there was a strong chance that the child had Down Syndrome.  The suggestion was to find out, and if indeed that diagnosis was confirmed, I could still "take care of it".

If you know me you know that I love deeply and with all of my heart.  Telling you the above stories certainly sounds much simpler than living through them actually was.  You can only imagine the angst and the decision making process I went through.  Yes, I understand some things on a very personal level.  The things that I describe above happened in my body.  I would never want my government to tell me what I could or could not do in either of those situations.  I do not believe the government has a place at all in decisions which involve a woman and her body.  I find it horrendous to criminalize a doctor or a woman for making these very personal decisions.

Compelled to write this blog post in response to a simple Facebook conversation is a freedom I have enjoyed today.  I don't expect you to agree with me or disagree.  And I don't care how long you want to discuss it.  I respect your right to do so.

I am still grieving for all who have been lost unnecessarily...during the time of  slavery in the United States, the Holocaust or through abortion. I grieve the loss of my four children who had every potential in the world to make a difference, just as their four siblings still have the opportunity to do.  

I will listen to you.  Please listen to me.