Twas The Write Before Christmas: Day 7

The Brightest Light

One year ago today, the world lost one of its brightest lights.  She, the woman who lived and loved to the full, is still so very much a part of who I am today.  She is the one who gave me a love of words.  She could weave a story as intricately as a beautiful tapestry. 

When she spoke, you would stop whatever you were doing just to hear her stories, because she carried stories of the past, present, and future with her every day.  And if you closed your eyes and listened carefully, you could almost see and feel and breathe the stories she told. 

Not a day goes by that I don't think of her and wish for just one day more.  The day we found out our littlest peanut was growing in my womb, I thought of her.  She loved children and would gladly take the time to hold, rock, and talk with the littlest ones.  Oh, how she would have loved to meet her two newest great grandchildren. 

There are days that the grief still so overwhelms me I can't breathe.  But there are also days that the memories of the nearly 28 years I was blessed to have her here make me smile and laugh, even through the tears.  I am so grateful for every single one of those years and for the woman who helped shape me into the woman I am today. 

Just yesterday, my daughter asked about her great mommy.  She often wears a little gold bracelet that used to belong to my grandma and every time she says, "my great mommy give this to me".  I smile as tears glisten my eyes and tell her, "yes, and oh how she loved you, so very much".  

Linking up with Bigger Picture Blogs for this year's Twas The Write Before Christmas.  Check out this year's prompts here and join in the fun!

 

Twas The Write Before Christmas: Day 1

Silent Night, Stille Nacht

 

Family.  It's the picture that comes to mind the moment the sweet melody of Silent Night finds its way into my memory each year.  We're all gathered round the home that love built, dishes piled high and our bodies nourished after another meal together.  In the midst of this circle, my grandfather sits, gently rocking back and forth in his favorite chair, his long, lean legs sprawled out before him.

The caroling books my aunt created years ago are passed around and soon the room is filled with melodies of Christmas.  We laugh as we act out the words to 12 Days of Christmas and smile as we sing Merry Christmas to the pizza delivery guy.  And somewhere in the middle of all this beauty, my grandfather makes his request for the song he loves to hear every year.

We turn the pages to find the words of Silent Night and slowly begin to sing.  As the words on the page reach their end, my grandfather's voice continues on in the words of his German heritage.  The room is silent except for the voice of this patriarch who has carried this family through many storms and taught us the value of family.

This will be the third Christmas without his strong, deep voice mesmerizing us with Stille Nacht.  And yet, every year since he left this earth, I remember and somehow, if I close my eyes and listen carefully, I can still hear him singing.  I can still picture him perched in his chair, smiling at all the faces of the ones he loves, and reminding us that even though he is no longer here with us, he still lives on in each and every one of us blessed to call him father and grandfather.

Linking up with Bigger Picture Blogs for this year's Twas The Write Before Christmas.  Check out this year's prompts here and join in the fun!

 

Just Write: One Last Time

Photo taken with Instagram (mom2vanda)

Last night, my husband cuddled up next to me on the couch.

"Talk to me, please?" he said.

My mind was a mess of thoughts, but I couldn't seem to put words to them.

How do I put into words the memories locked deep inside a heart that is still aching one loss, two losses, now three?

It always seems unfair when the world keeps going while our hearts are still grieving.

The world seems to stop the day a loved one dies and for the days leading up to a funeral.

Friends send prayers and love.  Family gathers together to hold each other tight.  Words don't need to be spoken, just a simple hug, an understanding glance.  

I walk into the church, preparing myself to bury the third grandparent in three years.

And it all comes back to me...

walking down the halls to my grandpa's bed side, watching him struggle to stay awake, hearing the nurses and doctors rushing about with concern as his oxygen levels drop without warning...

the phone call from my sister telling me to hurry back, hearing the words "he's dying" for the first time...

holding his hand, whispering words of love...

one last time.

I hear the phone ring and I remember the day my mom found my grandma lying on the bathroom floor, confused and disoriented.

And it all comes back to me...

the days of waiting, the gaining hope one day and losing it the next, the family flying in from all over, walking down the same hall way and a road we've walked before...

the phone call from my dad as we prepared a Christmas dinner we never got to eat...

holding her hand, whispering words of love...

one last time.

The text messages from my mom are still there, telling me great grandma was failing, plans for hospice were already in place, and it was time to stay another goodbye.

Holding her hand, whispering words of love...

seeing her smile and the light of recognition in her eyes as I walked in the room...

watching her hug my husband close and telling him she was so glad he was there...

hearing her talk about my little ones and knowing how much she loved them...

kissing her forehead, watching her struggle, saying goodbye, and somehow finding the strength to walk away...

one last time.

It never gets easier...and the memories pile on top of one another in a continuous, never-ending journey of grieving.

The only hope I have is found in this: no matter what heartbreak comes my way, Jesus is enough, more than enough.  

These three empty pieces of my heart will always ache and can never be replaced or filled...here on earth.  But there will come a day when all my tears will be wiped away and will be no more.  

"In the world you will have tribulation. 

But take heart; I have overcome the world." 

(John 16:33)

There is no valley, 

there is no darkness 

there is no sorrow 

greater than the grace of Jesus.  

There is no moment, 

there is no distance,  

there is no heartbreak 

He can't see you through.

(Point of Grace, There Is Nothing Greater Than Grace)

 Linking up with Heather for her weekly free writing exercise, Just Write.


 

Bigger Picture Moments: Oh, My Heart

Last weekend was not just another Mother's Day.  It was the first Mother's Day my mom and her brothers spent without their mom.

The day before, we drove to my grandparents' home for a day of yard work.  As we pulled in the driveway, Valerie said "that's great mommy's house!" and oh, my heart near broke.

It was painful to see the heaviness in the room as my mom and her brothers sat down and talked about plans for the home they grew up in, the home they watched their father build with his own hands.  Every single time I walk through those doors, I feel their presence.

Because, if walls could speak, they would tell the story of the home that love built and the love that made it a home.

A few weeks ago, when my mother in law came to visit, the kids were so excited to see their grandma Hanes.  But, my sweet daughter whose name reminds me of my grandma every time it passes through my lips, was confused as we anticipated her coming.

"Great mommy come visit?" she asked as her eyes searched mine.  It was like a gut punch to my soul.  Oh, my heart.  I miss her so.

I know that my grandma will not, cannot be forgotten, because she lives on in each one of us, in the legacy that her and grandpa left behind.  Each of us who knew and loved her and share pieces of her DNA also share pieces of who she was, a woman who loved life and lived it well.

As I walked around their home, eyes behind the camera lens, memories kept flooding my heart.  I could feel my grandma's laughter, her insatiable zest for life.  I could hear my grandpa's footsteps as he walked down the hall to say hello on our last visit.  I could see their hands held tight, smiles brighter than the sunshine outside, watching the ones they loved celebrating the life they so loved.

I wonder how many years down the road I will still feel their presence in their home.  I hope it never goes away, but that, as new memories and family legacies are built within its walls, that their love is always there, an everlasting flame reminding us of what really matters.

 

Bigger Picture Moments & 5 for 5: Age

 
We sat around the island in my mom's kitchen, four generations of women forming a circle with our hands.  Because as much as pictures speak a thousand words, hands are like a glimpse into the past and this photo of four generations of hands tells more of a story than any our smiling faces would.

My grandma's one hand has only four fingers, a birth defect that has never bothered or slowed her down.  It's a hand I would know anywhere.  Every wrinkle in her hand is like a memory woven into her skin, of years gone by, ages well lived.  Hers is a hand that has held the hand of her lover as she whispered goodbye on his last day.  Hers is a hand that has welcomed generations of children and grandchildren and great grandchildren in warm embraces and words of affirmation and love captured on paper. 

My mom's hands show the lines of a woman who has raised five children and welcomed two grandchildren with open arms.  Hers are the hands of a wife who has loved her husband even through the hard years of rearing young ones and a daughter who has cared for her aging parents with such tenderness and love.  Hers are hands that planned and organized and held us all together in the good times and in the bad times. 

My hands are just beginning to show age, smooth lines slowly becoming wrinkles as my story unfolds.  These are the hands of a young mom, deep in the midst of nurturing young hearts and souls.  They are hands wrapped around her husband, safe in his embrace after a long, trying day.  They are hands that clean messes left by toddlers learning to be independent and explore their world.  They are hands gently drying a little one's tears and holding them close, wishing time would slow down, that age would not catch up with these moments.

And then there are the hands of my daughter, in that in between stage of baby and toddler.  Hers are hands that make sense of this big world around her through touch and feeling.  Her hands reach for her mommy, still so dependent on her security and understanding of all the things she has yet to learn.  Her hands clumsily grasp a little spoon, trying over and over to learn the simple task of putting the food on her plate into her mouth.  Hers are hands that haven't yet seen age stretch and scratch and bruise.

Each hand tells a story, but each story is interwoven into one of generations of women following in the footsteps of the one who has gone before.  Our hands formed a circle, uniting the years and times and ages into one beautiful story of life and love and the timelessness of age. 

 

5 for 5: Pictures

It is said that pictures speak a thousand words.  To me, they also speak a thousand memories.  One photo can unlock a whirlwind of memories, for the better or for the worse.

Last fall, after transferring all our photos to an external hard drive, our external hard drive crashed.  We tried everything to retrieve years worth of precious photos.  And yet, it still sits in our desk drawer, a prison with no key, holding captive a myriad of memories.

I called my husband in tears when it first gave me an error message.  He tried to assure me it wasn't a big deal, but to me, it was a huge deal.  Photos are my treasures, the one earthly possession I hold onto with a firm grasp, the reason I have an entire shelf of our bookshelf devoted to scrapbooks and several totes full of scrapbooking supplies.  

In our first year of marriage, my husband has teased me often.  "Why are you taking a picture of another person?  You already know what he/she looks like."  

I read this quote yesterday, "When you photograph people in color, you photograph their clothes. But when you photograph people in black and white you photograph their souls” (Ted Grant).

Pictures are a mirror to a person's soul.  I capture moment after moment of the same people, because they are the souls most precious to me.   And I want to remember these moments with them, because each picture tells a different story, unraveling a lifetime of memories.

A few photo treasures of mine...

Walt Disney World, January 1998: This photo tells so many stories.  The one in the wheelchair is me with my youngest brother on my lap.  My heart surgery was a few months away yet and my energy level was so low I couldn't walk through the park.  The guy waving at the camera is my friend's dad, who works at the park and was nicknamed "Mr. Disney" by my youngest brother and sister.  This is one of our most memorable family road trips, because on the drive there, in our 11 passenger van, half of us got the flu, making for a long and stinky drive...but one we will never forget. 

 Upper Peninsula Michigan, Hanes family vacation, 2010:  This photo doesn't exactly tell a story, but it still speaks a thousand words.  My son is 10 months here and almost ready to walk.  During the day he was a happy, easygoing little guy, but the moment the sun set he became a teething nightmare.  I was completely exhausted from lack of sleep and my undiagnosed struggles with depression and anxiety the entire week and even had a meltdown in front of my husband's entire family...a shame I still struggle with.

 Klein Winter Family Day, 2008:  My grandparents loved the outdoors, especially my grandma who grew up in the big woods of northern Wisconsin.   Our family started a winter tradition years ago of gathering at my aunt and uncle's home in early February to celebrate grandpa's birth and enjoy skiing and sledding on their land.  This photo is bittersweet as I miss these two deeply, but it also reminds me of two people who loved and lived life well. 

 4th of July, 2006: Every year, my dad's family gathers in the small town he grew up in for a 4th of July parade, complete with farm machinery, square dancing, and llamas.  As kids we loved collecting bags full of candy from the people throwing it out during the parade and as adults we now enjoy making "bets" on how many tractors or horses we'll see in the parade.  This photo was taken one month before I married my best friend and the smile on my face reminds me of the excitement and anticipation of that big day.

NICU, July 2008: Our journey into parenthood began with one of the scariest experiences of my life.  Our sweet pea started having seizures less than 12 hours after her birth.  This is one of the first photos of her after she was airlifted by helicopter to the nearest NICU and reminds me of those trying days of praying and waiting for her to be well again. 

 

Two Years

As much as I'd love to post beautiful and meaningful words about Easter and all that it means...today is a day that will forever be etched on my heart and the memories have been flooding my mind all week.

My pastor told me once that even 10+ years after his mom died, he still cries sometimes...and now I understand why.  It's been two years...and sometimes I still miss my grandpa so much it hurts.

Add to that the fresh wound of grieving for my grandma...and, well, my heart is aching.

Two nights ago, I couldn't fall asleep until almost 1 in the morning.  My mind was racing with so many thoughts...until it settled on the fact that I just miss my grandparents more than I can put into words.

I sat down and wrote in my journal as the tears came.  Words I thought I would share here...but that I just needed to process for my own broken heart. 

I can never forget those days before Easter Monday two years ago...the hearts breaking, the tears falling, the hours waiting.  Two years...and I don't think this ache will ever go away...

Bigger Picture Moment: Legacy of Love

 
Today, on the 2nd day of February, a month that celebrates love, I'm reminiscing about one love story that holds a special place in my heart. It is a love story I've not only heard, but seen played out in the lives of two people who not only spoke their vows, but lived them every single day of their 62 years together.

I still remember watching my grandma sit at the bedside of the man she vowed to spend her life with, till death do us part.  She held his hand, whispered words of love, cried as she said goodbye, and watched as he breathed his last.  Even after his spirit was gone and his body was left an empty shell of the man we all so loved, my grandma sat there talking to him and sharing her heart as she began to process life without him.

I watched her body go limp as they carried his body away for the last time, held up by her eldest son who never once left her side that day.  I heard her grief over the phone when I called her one day shortly after as she whispered through her tears, "I just miss him so much". 

Through the years, I watched their love continue to blossom, my grandpa reaching over to hold her hand, leaning down to kiss her in the middle of a family gathering, eyes shining with a love so deep.  I saw the way they held each other up through the hard times and knew that one day I wanted to find a love like theirs.

In the last year and a half since he left her side, she continued to journal and write him letters, this time writing about her "life after Paul".  She shared with me stories of their years together, of the house they designed and built together, of the family they raised and cherished together, of the losses they walked through together.  Her eyes still held a sparkle every time she spoke of him.

I remember my mom saying once that she hoped they both died at the same time, because she couldn't imagine the one without the other.  When grandpa died, we were so grateful for the time we still had with grandma.  Still, she once said, "I know I have so many family and friends who love me...but, at the end of the day, it's just me."  I know there wasn't a day that went by she didn't miss him, feel the emptiness where his presence used to be.

I can only imagine what life would be like without the man I loved for 62 years.  I pray for many more years with my husband, because I want to know that kind of deep love that weathered a lifetime together.  I want my children to see our love lived out loud, so they can continue that legacy of love in their own homes one day.

Joy Dare: Week 4

Photo credit: treehouse1977

You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

(Psalm 16:11)

 The quiet of last week was disrupted when my husband found out Tuesday afternoon he had to leave the next morning on a business trip for three days.  He had never gone on a business trip so far from home before and I immediately felt the panic start to rise.

It was fear that made me remember where I once was and how my husband helped me walk through that dark valley to find peace and contentment in Him.  And how would I manage for three whole days without him?

I know it might seem silly, but I didn't realize how much I depended on him until he had to leave.  I am so thankful my parents opened their home to us while he was gone...but, more importantly, for the fullness of joy He promises in His word, no matter what circumstances surround me.  He is the one who shows me the path to a life of freedom and hope and joy.

In Him alone is the fullness of joy and pleasures forevermore. 

67. His faithful love that endures forever
68. hope and acceptance despite my imperfectionns
69. this Truth: He not only does good, He IS good
70. a quiet morning with my little ones
71. parents who are always happy to open their home up to us
72. sweet goodbye kisses from my husband
73. a birthday gift card for Starbucks
74. time spent with my mom and dad
75. cell phones that allow my hubby and I to sing "Away in A Manger" to the kids before bed
76. two little ones who slept peacefully all night and waking to my smiling son saying "I wake, mommy!"
77. remembering as we clean the home that love built and continuing the legacy of love my grandparents left
78. freely sharing my heart with a sweet friend who ministered to me with her open home and heart
79. the joy of a reunion after three days of missing my husband
80. sitting beside my husband at the school auction and seeing his smile as he pulls me closer with his arm around my shoulders
81. my daughter's excitement and cooperation at her first dentist appointment today
82. a morning walk with a little bit of running and remembering why I am doing this
83. lovely goodies in today's mail - my birthday Kindle, two good books, and a new magazine subscription
84. de-cluttering the basement and getting rid of more "stuff"
85. friends reminding me I'm not alone
86. the words of our church worship ministering to my heart
87. reading Organized Simplicity and talking with my husband about how all the "stuff" in our life gets in the way of what really matters

Bigger Picture Moments: Blessings Through Raindrops

Photo Credit: SoNo_PolarBear

My memory verse from last week (which I totally forgot about...so I'm working on it a week late) is the first part of James 1:17, "Every good and perfect gift is from above..."  I've been thinking about this verse a lot this week, especially since my sister made her pregnancy official on facebook.

When she told us a few weeks ago, I was surprised and completely excited.  I can't wait to spoil another little nephew or finally have a niece to shower with pink and frills.  But the most exciting part of her announcement came when she told us her due date - August 28th. 

To most people it is just another day, but to our family it has a special place in our hearts.  On that day in 1948, my Grandpa and Grandma Klein began their journey of life together, a marriage that lasted 62 beautiful years and has been the most precious legacy to us.

I can still clearly picture in my head seeing my sweet grandfather hold out his hand to my grandma as they were walking through the woods at my uncle's house.  Theirs was a love that was not just empty words, but a lifetime of holding each other and walking together in good times and in bad times, in sickness and in health. 

When my mom reminded us what that date meant, I immediately saw a picture of my grandpa and grandma, holding hands and walking through life together...and I knew this was one of those good and perfect gifts from above.  Because it's no coincidence that her due date is that exact day.  It is a blessing that comes through rain drops, a reminder that, even when life is hard, God is working all things together for good to those who love Him and are called by His name. 

Linking up with Bigger Picture Moments at Melissa's today.

The Home That Love Built

If walls could talk, these walls would share the bittersweet memories...

of a mother who cherished her days spent watching her children grow, 

of a husband who loved his wife more each and every day, 

of a father who designed and built the home with the sweat of his own hands, 

of brothers and a sister who learned that family was the most precious gift in this life, 

of marriages celebrated and grandchildren welcomed, 

of Christmas and Thanksgiving gatherings with tables piled high with food 

and the happy chatter of a family who knew how blessed they were to have each other, 

of a family growing together through the joys and sorrows of life, 

of a family gathering around the bedside of a mother and father, grandfather and grandmother, great grandmother and great grandfather 

saying their last goodbyes and the tears that mixed in with the dust and dirt of the home that love built.  

***

My sister shared this video with me today and, as I listened, tears filled my eyes as I remembered the grandfather and grandmother we loved so dearly who will always hold a place in my heart that will never be forgotten.  It's not about getting over a loss like this...it's about learning to live and laugh and smile at the precious memories you hold onto...even when it hurts.

A Year in Photos: 2011

Cupcakes in California: January

Growing in the Lord: February

Our Texas Adventure: March

The Real Me: April

My Gluten Free, Dairy Free Life: May

Summer Lovin': June 

My Sister's Wedding: July



Celebrating Five Years: August

  Becoming a Runner: September 

Finding Myself: October

 A Habit of Thankfulness: November

A Different Kind of Christmas: December