Tuesday, October 13, 2020

Let the Wind blow

 Dear Emily,

What a year this has been!  We have learned so much  . . .  about what we

don't know, what we can't do, and where we aren't supposed to go.  This 

week our family of 17 has to miss our daughter's wedding in New York.  

NOT because New York isn't safe, but because our little state has increasing 

cases of the plague.  Many tears have been shed,  but our love is abundant 

and will not be confined to our physical presence.

We are, after all, spiritual creatures.  We don't know which way the Wind 

blows, but we know that He is full of Love and able to carry ours across 

state lines.  In my imagination, He is the Farmer who plucks us, the 

dandelions, from the fertile soil and blows our fuzzy seeds thousands of 

miles to our daughter who will plant them in the garden of her heart for 

a future day when we can be together and celebrate.

We are, also, abundantly grateful that most of our loved ones and friends 

have escaped the virus.  We have learned how to safely be with our children

who live near us and are no longer afraid to smooch and snuggle with our

beloved grandchildren. Our prayers are for those who are gravely ill, those 

who have lost loved ones, and our mayors,  governors, and president who 

must make impossible decisions about life and liberty.



"The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it but do not

know where it comes from and where it is going; so is every one who is

born of the Spirit."  John 3:8

Monday, April 27, 2020

To Linger

Dear Emily,

What does it mean to linger?  The dictionary says it is to be
slow to part.  I love that.  In this time of waiting out the 'walrus'
(our 2 1/2 year old grand daughter calls this the cowonawalrus,)
I find myself longing to linger near those I'm not allowed to be

When I say, "goodbye" to grandchildren that I can't hug or kiss,
that parting is full sorrow.

My hope is that soon this ole' walrus will burn off.  Until then I will
linger with the Lord and my husband and feast on whatever crumbs
the six feet distance from my grandbabies can afford.


"We have lingered for Thee eagerly"
Isaiah 26:8

Thursday, December 28, 2017

Dear Emily,

Colorful paper in piles on the floor.  Sweaters, socks,
and jammies in happy heaps nearby.  Books stacked
in towers of promise.  Tears of joy and sorrow linger.

Outside my kitchen window, the snowman leans
precariously for his lost glove.  The snow now a sweet
memory.  As are lost grandparents who, of course, are
not really lost but waiting in heavenly realms.

Angels singing, earth rejoicing.


Tuesday, December 19, 2017


Dear Emily,

I just happened upon this old blog and took
a trip down a winding, dusty road.  You know
what?  I encouraged myself.  How was I so
naive and full of hope? Where did my lilting,
winsome babble go?

No matter; I have grandchildren to restore it.
The Lord is so good at restoration.

"God will restore everything you lost; He'll
have compassion on you; He'll come back and
pick up the pieces from all the places where
you were scattered."  Deuteronomy 30:3

Our old precious pastor, Brother Bill, used to
warn us not to become 'weary in well doing.'
It just makes us wearier.

How do we become feistier in well doing?


Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Two Years Later

Dear Emily,

More than two years ago I was swept into my parents' aging vortex.


Not even raising five teenagers prepared me for the heartache, frustration,
and exhaustion of that battle.  I think of it as a battle, because I was at war
with doctors, nurses, siblings, and even the parents for whom I was advo-


In my life was consumed by this.  My poor, loving husband watched his
wife wither into an old woman whose eyes were wrecked from crying.

Yet, here I am now, somehow on the mossy shore of the same ageless
river that once tried to drown me.  My parents are still fragile but happy,
sometimes.   I am older and wiser with advice:

1.  Before your parents lose their capacity to care for themselves, make
copies of EVERYTHING: driver's licenses, medicare cards, insurance
cards, birth certificates, social security cards, doctors, medications.  One
day every important document will scatter everywhere: in their cars, in
their shoes, in their silverware drawers, under beds, under dressers,
under water.

2.  If you can afford it, hire a home health care nurse to supervise the
dispensing of meds and to interface with doctors.  The medical world
likes to use vocabulary no one else can speak.  An advocate helps.

3.  Obtain a Power of Attorney before you need it.  Trust me, you will
need it.  It is the crown and scepter of parental care.

4.  Maintain one or two relationships to vent, whine, and even punch.

5.  Cast all your cares on the One who loved your parents from the womb
and maybe even more now that they are unable to care for themselves.


"Even to your old age I will be the same, and even to your graying
years I will bear you."  Isaiah 46:4

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Raising capital

Dear Emily,

Notice anything different?  Yep, I'm making myself use capital letters,
because I'm a grown up now.   As soon as my parents began to depend
on us kids more, I knew it was time to capitalize.

I've learned to capitalize the importance of trusting my siblings and to
delegate.   Another lesson is from Philippians 2:3, "Do nothing out of
selfish ambition or vain conceit . . . but consider others before yourself."
It is a capital offense to whine about the difficult decisions we must

Ours have been capital parents, giving us all they knew to give, and
now it's our turn.

I've been in denial, pretending things were not slipping down that
slippery slope.   I've also been a hypocrite, thinking I was a devoted
daughter.   Now is when the rubber meets the road, and I pray I can
meet the challenge.

Which brings me to my favorite Alexander McCall Smith quote,
"Denial and hypocrisy get bad press; there's plenty of room for both."


Friday, November 22, 2013

beauty obsessed

dear emily,

when i was your age, i went days without moisturizer much less makeup.
NOT because i was overwhelmed with keeping up with five children, but
because i had a makeup addiction.   the acknowledgement of my disorder
led me to fast beauty products for a season.

my poor husband never said a word except, "i like you better without it."
he also said, "i like you better with some meat on your bones."  what
a gift.   him, not the extra 'meat'.

i realize now that my beauty obsession had its roots in a comment from my
father when i was young.  i have a gorgeous mother and not the kind of
beauty that requires eyeliner or even lipstick.   she rises from her sleep with
a pink flush on her perfect cheekbones.   i was proud when she walked the
halls of my highschool, because she was prettier than the cheerleaders.

when my dad said, "you will never be as beautiful as your mother," i thought,
"well, duh."  i don't think he meant to be cruel but was complimenting her, as
i was outgrowing my awkward, cygnet years.   he didn't realize how hurtful
the remark was to his seventeen year old daughter.

how kind of the Lord to give me a husband who loves my heart.  "beauty, oh
beauty, where is thy sting?"

now, let me just say that i have a loving relationship with my father, and i
still like makeup.  every barn needs a nice coat of paint.   this is a fun beauty
blog written by a young friend.


"it came about when he came near to egypt, that he said to sarah his wife,
'see now, i know that you are a beautiful woman . . . '"  genesis 12:11