The Unending Tug-of-War

 

        Does this picture remind anyone of anything that is going on right now post-election?

Well, it was going on in our house, too, the other day! (For your information, that was an old sock, not a good one!) And thankfully, the tug-of-war was just between the dogs.

If there has been something I have noticed this Christmas season, it is the peace in our home.

 That doesn't mean there isn't anything upsetting or imperfect or quite non-angellic. It doesn't mean nobody is ever unhappy, or that nobody is ever impatient or that nobody ever complains. There is just peace. 

We get through the hard moments and come out still loving each other and sticking by each other.  

The children either go to work or do their work at home, do their school, and play music with each other.

They do their chores, operate their businesses, help each other, play games with each other, and spend bits of several days decorating for Christmas.

                           There is love here. We aren't perfect by a long shot, but there is love here.

And joy! It's something that is hard to explain. But today when we heard about another young person flying to someone else's home for Christmas, one of the children couldn't imagine going somewhere for Christmas instead of being home!

We realized that many homes are unhappy and young people would be happy to go somewhere else for Christmas. But I also hastened to explain that when young people grow up, they start wanting to stretch their wings and live their own lives, even if they come from happy homes. Spending Christmas somewhere besides home is a fine thing, if the other choice is healthy and happy.

I was just happy to hear my children sounding like the happiest place to be for Christmas was home! 

I hope it is always that way. I hope they will always want to come home. I hope they will know that here at home they are loved.

They are welcome.

And they belong.

I know after they are married, things will be different. They may want to sometimes have their own Christmas, or be with the in-laws. I hope they will know that is okay, too.

But I hope that here at home there will always be love and joy and peace.

Black-capped Chickadee Hopping Near

  Jonathan motioned me to come over to the window a few mornings ago. There was Hannah, standing  very still by the bird feeder.

She stood with her eyes closed, very still, hoping the little black-capped chickadee would land on the feeder while she was there! The wee hungry little birdie hopped about, closer and closer! Finally--yay!--it flew right down to the feeder right in front of Hannah and got itself a beakful of sunflower seeds, the bird version of daily bread. 

       I can't help thinking--I wonder if God is just a little bit like that on a sunny winter morning?

 Does He just stand there sometimes, waiting for us to draw near for our daily Bread from Him? Does He stand quite still for those of us who feel uncertain that He is safe, that He is not out to get us if we make a mistake? Does He wish for us to draw close as much as Hannah hoped the little chickadee would come close while she was standing there?

"Draw near to Me," says the Lord, "and I will draw near to you." Yes, especially on an uncertain             December morning.

 

Family Photos

                                                              Well, we tried anyway.

With no one to take a whole family picture, first we took a photo of just Jonathan and me in front of our frosty tree.

                                                And then we took a photo of the children.

                           We tried anyway. It disintegrated really fast in the bright sunshine.

                                                      It disintegrated REALLY fast!!!

                             After many moans and laughs and encouragements, we tried again.

                                                                        Well, we tried!

                                                           

Charming Log Chapel and Wounded Hands

Sunday morning after a very uncertain night and early morning, my extended family was not sure what to do. It seemed almost disrespectful to just go on with life as if nothing had happened. As if Dad was not in the hospital ICU fighting for his life!

As if he was not on oxygen and hooked up to a Bi-PAP machine. 

But there were too many of us to just sit around in one house wringing our hands.

We decided to worship, just like usual. 

Just like Dad would want us to do.

"I was glad when they said unto me, 'Let us go into the house of the Lord."

And truly I was glad. 

Getting out of the house helped us.

The fresh air revived us. 

Mom and Dad's church had just shut down for a couple weeks because different ones were sick, and the family had decided to meet at a little country chapel, just us.

 

We all dressed for church and made a sort of caravan driving our many vehicles the twenty minutes away to a charming little log chapel built way back on a little property where there was a lake as well named Chapel Lake.

Friends of my family had told them about this chapel that was built by a wealthy business owner in memory of his wife. The chapel is open for public use such as weddings or other services as long as someone calls ahead so that the property guard can unlock the gate and let you in. 

  There are lots of picnic tables on the property for when the weather suits.    My relatives have worshiped here a few times, especially when missionaries or friends come through. The chapel is called simply Christ Chapel.

I loved the scene of all the uncles and aunts and cousins and Grandma heading to a picture-perfect chapel.

I had hardly ever been so eager to go into the house of the Lord.

Sam entering the chapel.

It had been such a strenuous weekend that nobody in particular had an order of worship or a sermon, but we simply began to sing together, one hymn after another, beginning with "How Great Thou Art." 

Gabriel's family sang for us the beautiful, assuring song, "Come and Rest" that they had sung at the funeral for former God's Missionary Church president Paul Miller. It was the same arrangement my family used to sing long years ago, with another song added in as a medley, "In the Riven Rock I'm Resting," I think it was.

Four cousins--Ezra, David, Gabey, and Regi sang the very same arrangement of "Dare to Stand Like Joshua" that my brothers used to sing as a men's quartet years ago. 

It was outstanding, and such a special surprise to my mom. Sorry my photo of it was so fuzzy.

Kezia and her two little girls sang a beautiful song of assurance, a lovely contemporary song. 

I shared a children's story from Alaska, a true story about a young lady who decided to enter her sled dogs into a 60-mile race having practiced only two times two days beforehand!

I bought the book at an airport in Alaska in August and also bought a sled dog hat which Jonathan wore during the story, pretending to be one of the sled dogs who got into a tangle with the others.

Jonathan the Sled Dog did a great job of growling and snarling at the little boys in the front row and making even Rose nearly jump out of her skin!

The point I made in the story that morning was that in the race that we are running to heaven, 

we must keep going until the very end.

We must not stop even if we fall off the sled; even if we get stuck in dogfights that leave us wounded and suffering with headaches, like that girl did. 

We must not give up even when we have lost our way like she thought she did.

We don't have to be the first, the best, or the fastest--but we must finish the race!

Elon then shared a Psalm and encouraged testimonies of God's goodness to us this year. 

Of course, Mom shared. While it was distressing that none of the family was allowed in at all to be with Dad, one redeeming thing about it was that every single one of us could participate in the worship service at the chapel, especially Mom who enjoyed every minute of the music and sharing time. God always works for good in the middle of distressing times.

After dismissal, I couldn't help wandering up front by the stained glass window. The wounded feet and  hands spoke to me.

Sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words. 

Without those wounded hands, no chapel would grace a beautiful meadow.

No family would gather to worship.

Nobody would be redeemed. Nobody would be transformed.

We would be without hope. 

But because of those wounded hands, we gather, like little children to the feet of Jesus.

We worship, we adore, we are glad. 

And by His stripes we are healed.

Because of His love, we love and are loved.

It was one of the most inspiring and enriching family times I have ever experienced,

Forsake Not Thy Mother [or Father] When They Are Old

I told Dad he didn't need to try to go outside for the clan photo, but he insisted.

Ezra managed the camera, and his sister Pearl helped arrange all the noisy cousins, uncles, aunts, and grandmother.

Then we saw Fain and brother-in-law Chris running back to help Dad out the door, along with Craig. The three "body guards," as they were dubbed, walked with Dad out to the photo shoot outside where the rest of us were shivering in the cold and hollering, "Four. More. Years!"

The sun was about to set in more than one way, although I had this hunch that it wasn't setting yet.

After the photo shoot, I watched my brothers accompany my dad back inside.

Dad--always the independent, stubborn one, now so frail he could hardly breathe. 

And my brothers, who have scratched their heads over and over at my dad, just standing by him and making sure he got inside okay, and then standing helplessly as he tried to get his breath again. 

 Some day, if the Lord tarries, we will all grow old. How we model treating our parents when they are old is going to be a big influence on how our children treat us when we are old. 

Our children, too, will think we are stubborn and independent and crazy sometimes. They will scratch their collective heads and remember hurts and have to ask God to help them to forgive us.  

But I hope they will still love us and not forsake us when our strength is gone.

Now we can walk by ourselves, even help to carry others.

 But there are many elderly around us, not just our parents. A lot is to be said for how we treat them, how we care about them, how we do not abandon them--even in the time of Covid.

When my dad's mother was still living, we spent years going to see her once a week, and my sister and I often stopped once or twice a week at her nursing home on our way home from college classes. 

We took Grandma along on any singing appointments in the area, helping her out of the vehicle and rolling her into the church or community building in her wheel chair. 

We were not ashamed of an aged grandma. My dad strongly taught us to honor the elderly.

Now he is reaping what he taught and modeled.

Kenn and Iva dropped everything and traveled down on Thanksgiving Day--

making sure they wouldn't have to regret not coming down.

Mother-daughter hug--they were willing to hug a second time when I saw it happen the first time and didn't have my camera ready.

It's okay that this one is a bit blurry. Maybe it was supposed to be that way. 

While the girl cousins had their Lifeline Gifts gathering, the boys and men returned from Black Friday shopping and started working at projects that needed to be done--unloading a trailer of wood, dealing with branches, leaves and trash, loading up scrap metal. Jonathan measured the stove pipe and figured up how much new pipe was needed. 

Chris, (Kezia's husband) and Jonathan trimmed some branches on the tree near the front door. Those branches kept scraping the big vans that kept pulling in and out.

 

There were enough leaves to keep everyone in the clan busy for a while

. Of course, the leaf and trash fire was a great gathering place for all. 

Sam zoomed around the place with one of the clan's zero-turn mower/leaf blower.

 

No end of cousin fun as one after another got their turn inside the tarp full of leaves!

 Reminded me of Fain's wedding when he got tossed into the air and was caught in a big blanket while his anxious wife hoped he wouldn't land wrong!

Three little boys having lots of fun together!

What is down between those cracks?

 I tried to convince him to only carry two at a time instead of four!

 Ezra fixing the fire in the new wood stove that the men and boys had installed a couple days earlier. It is working so well, and is so cozy to watch through the glass doors.  It was such a comfort to my dad!

Saturday morning was somber as Dad asked the guys to bring in the old hospital bed from out in the garage somewhere. The brothers and in-laws tried and tried to figure out how to get all the gizmos working on it, but it really wasn't working. Thankfully, even in the midst of trouble and anxiety, the guys could still crack jokes and enjoy the sunshine. No need to be morbid. We know Dad doesn't want us to stop living cheerfully.

One person after another was googling and calling around and trying to find a used hospital bed, only to end up late that evening taking Dad to emergency. His renal failure was causing fluid build-up, and Dad hadn't wanted any intervention at first. His doctor had said dialysis would not extend his life, so everyone was feeling pretty helpless, like this was probably the end. (It wasn't.)

We didn't know the evening was going to end up that way when one of the clan called and suggested that the clan get together after the photo shoot and sing for Dad. We started off with "Stand By Me," an old favorite that Elon used to sing as a solo with us others behind him. 

"When I'm growing old and feeble, stand by me!

When my life becomes a burden, 

And I'm nearing chilly Jordan,

Oh, Thou Lily of the valley, stand by Me!"

We sang "How Firm a Foundation" at Mom's request. We sang one hymn after another that we had learned way back when Mom and Dad first had us children start memorizing hymns.

"I Need Thee Every Hour," "Abide With Me," "I'll Walk With God," "My God and I," "If I Can Help Somebody," and finally Dad's quavering voice began, "The Old Rugged Cross." Fain quietly slipped up to try to play bass on Dad's big bass viol that Dad tried so hard to learn to play in his old age. Fain did great, using one string!

 Little ones were so precious, playing quietly around Grandpa's knee and tiptoeing on the floor as we sang.

Chris and Kezia's little boy snuggled up to his daddy--

and was soon sound asleep, despite the music!

So was another little boy that is almost as big as his mother!

Outside, the young people watched the leaf fire. 

The generations move along. 

Sam stayed behind to watch the fire when Jonathan and I headed off for supper with Fain and Regina's family. So we weren't there when Dad finally decided to ask Elon to take him to the ER. Because of Covid, none of us were allowed much inside the door of the hospital. It would be days before we would see Dad again.

Mom would spend many hours on the phone, either with doctors, nurses, or family members, relaying information and messages.

Hannah looking at all the photos of families and grandchildren that Mom has on her refrigerator. It is obvious who is important to Mom and Dad.

I couldn't help snapping a picture of these hats! They are so my dad! Because of his bald head, he has to wear a hat even indoors much of the time to stay warm. I remember him wearing a stocking cap to bed when I was wee little.

 

 This is the Scripture plaque on the church where we worshipped Sunday morning.

"Love the Lord your God with all your heart...and love your neighbor as yourself."

Especially your mother and father when they are old.