Legacy

Simeon is one of my favorite people in the Bible. Took me many years to unearth his story and realize the beauty and the value in his life, but once I did, he was an instant favorite. Simeon {if you haven't uncovered his story yet} was an old man who had received a promise from God that he would not die until he saw the Messiah.

Mary and Joseph took Jesus to the Temple when He was eight days old, and that was the day Simeon met - and held - the Son of God. The day the promise was fulfilled.

When I wrote the chapter on Simeon in my Advent book, I wondered what it would have been like to wait your entire life for the fulfillment of a promise. I wondered if he ever talked about it to others and if, along the way, people rolled their eyes and thought he was crazy. I wondered if he ever started to doubt that he'd heard God correctly. I wondered if, as years crept by, he began to fear he made up the whole thing.

This past Sunday, our pastor preached about Simeon and Anna and the legacy of their lives. He preached about how their faith was strengthened by the lifetime of work they'd seen God accomplish in not only themselves but in those around them.

Pastor Steve shared stories of people in his own life who had invested in him from their senior years and had been able to guide and encourage him out of the wealth of their own faith journey.

And then he reminded all of us that such people still exist. They exist in our own church and in the pews around us.

And then he brought them all to the front of the church.

 If you click on that picture to make it bigger, you'll see that stretching as far as our little camera could get, from the left to the right is a row {sometimes two and three people deep} of people 65 and older who have been part of the legacy of this church and of the lives of those of us remaining in our pews.

The picture isn't even as powerful as the moment was in real life. I'm not sure any of us escaped without a tear or two. We stood and thanked them with applause - for their faithfulness in lives that have had many mountains and valleys.

A handful of them read Scripture to us, and we listened while voices that have lived the truth of the words passed them forward to us.

And among that crowd were some I've known since I was old enough to have memories. People who attended the church where I grew up. People who invested in me personally.

Here are two:

June {in the red jacket} and Harold {in the black suit} are friends of my parents, and I've known them my whole life. June taught my Sunday School class when I was little, and she taught me to look up Scripture in the Bible. Harold directed the handbell choir and let this awkward junior high girl join and take a spin at something new.

I'm thankful for them and ALL the seniors God has put in my life along the way, from childhood to now, who have taught me by example how God works in life. And just a couple of days away from Christmas, I recognize the gift each of them are to me. {And Ryan has just as many in his life!}

Maybe this Christmas you can give the gift of a note or a phone call to one of the seniors in your life - someone whose walk with the Lord has encouraged you! Someone who has been faithful in leaving a legacy for you to follow.

 {This last photo courtesy of the College Wesleyan Facebook Page}

Tributes and Such

Yesterday on our BLT show, we spent the hour sharing stories of some of the best traits we inherited from our parents {or grandparents} {or mentors}. It got me all in the mood to pay tribute to some of the people who have made me who I am so today is tribute day here in old Shafferland.

I mentioned a couple of days ago that last Sunday would have been my Grandma Kesot's 100th birthday, so I'm going to start with her.

Grandma Kesot: Grandma was already retired {all my grandparents were, actually} when I was born so I remember her as a stay-at-home wife who dearly loved being with her husband. In fact, I think that's where I got the idea that you can be married forever and still genuinely enjoy spending time with your spouse. It wasn't just something she said. It was something she did. She loved her family and doted on us. She cooked for and hosted all the holidays, and she baked {and decorated} cakes for all our birthdays. Grandma and I became extra special buddies during my high school years, after my Grandpa died. I spent a lot of weekends at her house, and I loved that time with her. I appreciated her undying devotion to everyone she loved, and I hope that her love for and dedication to my Grandpa is something I replicate in my love for Ryan.

Grandpa Kesot: Well, Grandpa had much more of a quiet strength about him than I've EVER had about me, but one of the things I remember most about him was that sweet twinkle in his eye. He could say so much{good} with one look. He was so funny...so often when he didn't mean to be. He'd get words mixed up {like the time he told us all the cartridges wore out in his knees} and then those words would become our words. I can't even come UP with the word cartilage now without much effort. We'd tease him and he took it all in good-natured stride. Grandpa died when I was going into my freshman year of high school, and I miss him. I appreciated the gentle way he served as our family patriarch and if I ever stop being so bull-in-a-china-shop, I hope to find within me some of his gentleness.

Grandma Freelan: Grandma and I were buddies...and if there's one thing about her in her dealings with me...she was long-suffering. When I was little, she'd come stay with us for a couple weeks at a time now and then, and when she did, I took over. I played nurse and she was my patient. I played teacher and she was my student. I played piano instructor and she sat dutifully on the bench and pressed her thumb against middle C for four counts before I gave her a check mark on that page. She was so patient. {Yeah, I didn't inherit that one.} The other thing I remember about her was how devoted she was to her prayer time, and I'll tell you what...until the day she died, I was one of the three most-prayed-for-ever grandkids you ever met.

Grandpa Freelan: I didn't want you to think I ignored him, but he died before I was born, so I can't tell you what I remember most!

Mom: I shared this on BLT this week, but my Mom is a funny lady, and I have been told I have a delightful blend of both my parents' sense of humor. And the thing I shared on the air was that I always appreciated her devotion to her quiet time. She's a morning person {yeah didn't get that either} and I remember watching her do her devotions while I ate breakfast before school. A million things to do before she headed out to work, but she always made time for that and it was such a great example to me. And my goodness, does she ever have a servant's heart. She lives to help others, and I admire that so much about her.


Dad: The other half of my sense of humor came from this one. He's funny too, though in a completely opposite way from Mom. Dad is a HARD worker and has put in many late nights {got that from him} working to make sure everything was in order for the family. And from him, I inherited my love of studying the Bible and really digging in to learn all sorts of things about it. I appreciate the foundation he gave me in an above-average knowledge of Scripture when I was just a little thing!

And now I have the joy of a whole new family - with in-laws! I have two mothers-in-law and two fathers-in-law and I appreciate so much how all four of them have welcomed me in and made me feel like I belong. They're all kind, generous people who have been a joy to get to know in the last two years.

Ryan's dad (Gary) and step-mom (Lynn) have included us in their celebrations, they made the trip to Florida for our wedding, and I enjoy it when Lynn sends a text out of the blue to share about something she read on the blog or a fond memory she has of time spent with us. I really treasure that! I appreciate witnessing their love for and commitment to one another and to the family.

Ryan's mom (Nita) and step-dad (Allen) have made me feel every bit as much their child as Ryan is. I've appreciated their hospitality, Nita's photography documentation of our relationship, and their constant willingness to help us with anything we need. I also appreciate how they've included my parents as part of their huge family too! They're encouraging and affirming to both of us, and we appreciate that.

And of course I saved the best for last. Ryan has really changed my life, not just in all the obvious ways, but in the character traits he teaches me on a daily basis. He is such a good listener. He's hysterical and can get me to laugh even when I am so sad or so angry. He loves me even when I'm {ahem} grouchy. And probably THE biggest thing I've learned from him is how to have a generous spirit. He gives and gives and gives to anyone in need. He always sees the good and the potential in people and wants to help in any way he can. I've watched him buy a tank of gas for a total stranger {while I huddled in the corner with the phone at the ready to call 911 because I have watched too much TV}, I've watched him haul a car a long distance for my co-worker who had no way to get it to the shop, I've watched him sweep branches off the roof of his great-aunt and uncle who couldn't do it themselves, I've watched him help his co-worker bust up a slab of concrete and haul it away, and I've watched him treat his patients with dignity and the utmost in kindness as they struggle to rehab. He is amazing. I'm blessed to get to learn from him every day.

 Oh goodness. I could go on for days. {And some of you already think I have.} But these are just a few of the folks who have showed me how to live well. I'm grateful to have been part of their lives. And I hope SO MUCH that I can leave even a fraction of this in the lives of others. Truly.

Join me? Honor some people who have blessed you? 

Full Circle

Yesterday I told you about my parents' 60th anniversary...thanks for your warm wishes for them, both here and on Facebook! They stopped by our house last night to see us on their way home from their official anniversary trip...and they brought us Rise n Roll donuts. I realize there is something a bit backwards about receiving gifts FROM the anniversary kids, but hey. Did you hear me say Rise n Roll??? Yeah we didn't turn those down.

Anyway. Last night I had some fun with the rest of Mom and Dad's wedding pictures, and I thought you might like to see what I did!

As you may have gathered, I am kind of a fan of doing recreations of pictures. It's a Pinterest-induced addiction.

But Ryan and I planned our wedding so quickly that I didn't have time to scope out Pinterest for picture ideas. So all these things...just a lovely coincidence.

You saw the picture on the left yesterday. Mom as a bride in 1954. Yours truly as a bride in 2012...fifty-eight years later. Someone on Facebook commented that we look a lot alike...and we do. Mom was 17 when she got married. I was twice her age. But if you saw my senior picture next to her wedding photo, you'd see just how much alike we looked back then!

On the left...my sweet Grandpa with my mom. I loved Grandpa so much and dearly miss him. I would have loved for him to have met Ryan. They would have been buddies. I do find it interesting that neither Mom nor I carried a traditional bouquet in our weddings.

Quite a change in venue...from the church to the beach. But I am thrilled that we have the same photo from both days. {Click on the photo to enlarge it.}

In all those years of planning, I can truly say I NEVER thought I'd see the day when I ended up with the smallest wedding party of ANYONE in my entire family - especially my parents! But nonetheless...here are our parties!

Clearly neither of us like messes. Get that cake IN HIS MOUTH without dropping crumbs!!

Mom and Dad had the little bride and groom from the store on the top of their cake. Ryan and I had an acrylic silhouette of us holding hands on ours. Mom and Dad's cake was NOT mocha flavored. And we served cupcakes to our guests, while they served the cut tiered cake. But otherwise, it's the same. Well. Minus the palm trees. :)

True love - separated by 58 years and 1700 miles.

Mom and her girls...and me with mine. :)

Dad with his guys and Ryan with his. :)

Two love stories. Fifty-eight and a half years apart. But this girl is very thankful for them both.

Sixty Years

Sixty years ago today, a couple of crazy kids said I do.

You might recognize them a bit more like this:

Yes! As of today, my parents achieved a milestone I won't see until I'm 94. {And I am just cantankerous enough to make it to 94, thankyouverymuch.}

They got married at 8:00 in the evening, at the little Friends Church where Mom grew up, and we get to peek in on some of the details of the day courtesy of the fact that newspapers were more than just newsy on the wedding announcements back in 1954.

The Rev. William A. Wagner, pastor of the Bethel Friends Church and a cousin of the bride, performed the single-ring rites before the altar, which was decorated with palms, two seven-branch candelabra and standards of white gladioli. Family pews were marked with white satin bows. 

Given in marriage by her father, the bride was gowned in white Chantilly lace over taffeta. A sweetheart neckline accented the gown's fitted bodice, which was trimmed with sequinned medallions of the lace and long lace sleeves ended in bridal points at the wrists. Her fingertip veil of imported illusion was held in place by a cap of lace and accordion pleated satin, studded with pearls and rhinestones. She carried a white Bible and a white orchid tied with white satin streamers in lover's knots. 

Reception in honor of the couple was held in the Christian Education building of the church. A three-tiered wedding cake decorated in yellow and white and topped with the traditional bride and bridegroom centered the bridal table.

{And that's about a quarter of the newspaper article. I never would have made it as a writer then. I didn't even know the proper usage of some of those words!!}


And so they were married...and along the way had three daughters...and have welcomed sons-in-law and a grandson and granddaughter. {And a host of grandanimals, but only MISTER Freelan will claim those.}

Sixty years is a huge deal. HUGE! Not many people have that accomplishment to their name, and I'm proud of my parents for persevering through a whole lotta life to reach this day. Thankful that they pushed through hard days and enjoyed good days and provided a good life for my sisters and me.

Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad! Thanks for the legacy you've created through the last 60 years!

60 Years

This past Saturday, we helped celebrate Ryan's grandparents' 60th wedding anniversary.

60 years.

The ironic thing is that later this year, my parents will reach the same milestone.

My parents. His grandparents. Same accomplishment. And we are part of their legacy.

His grandparents had an open house...where a beautiful lace-covered dress hung against the wall - yellowed, but still completely intact and a testament to vows spoken years ago.

 A banner hung by the door with their wedding photo...and as I passed through at one point during the day, scoping out a new place to take pictures, I heard an open-house-attender say to his grandma, "Man you looked as scared out of your mind as I did on my wedding day."

Because 60 years ago, weddings weren't paid for with loans and inspired by Pinterest and entrenched in elaborate ceremonies and registries and first looks and such. They were solemn commitments between two barely-adults who had heard stories of how their parents made it through the Depression with nothing to their name and they were about to make their own way - with no guarantees.

And sixty years later, they sat with their children behind them and proved...it can be done.

That the cake and the confetti and the spread of food and the perfectly arranged centerpieces are but a symbol of sixty years of celebration, certainly, but also of hard work and grit and sheer determination. That this crew of five made it this far because of Jesus and His grace over their home.

Their kids had kids...and then THEY began having kids, and the room swarmed with generations bubbling over with pride in the generation the followed....

And in the middle of all this mix, Ryan and I came to be part of this legacy.

And though our wedding day looked different than theirs...and we were far older when we got married, I hope all those many years down the road, we carry on this legacy of determination and faith. We may not make it to 60 years {and if we DO, we'll be well on our way to 100 and unlikely to remember a blessed thing about it} but I hope we leave behind a legacy of love!

Heritage

I have been blessed with a great heritage.

The church I grew up in was filled with great people who loved me deeply and took time out of their lives to make an investment in mine. Many of them continue to check on me now and then, and each time they do, I'm reminded of how purposeful the Lord was in placing them where He did when He did.

One such blessing to my life is Jody. (So excited for her...her first novel is set to release this October. If any of you love fiction, you should check it out! It's called The Preacher's Bride and is published by Bethany House.) She and her husband were youth pastors at our church for a while, and they both made a deep impact on me.

I may have mentioned this before, but it's been a while, so I'll say it again. One Sunday, we had a visitor who said some very rude things to me during class. That very week, I received a card from Jody (which I still have!) encouraging me to put aside his words and know that my value comes from the Lord and not from the words of others.

This week, I received an email from her, encouraging me on my journey, promising to lift me to the Lord, and reminding me that He is faithful. To know that she, lo these many years after I graduated from youth group, would take time out of her schedule as wife and mom and teacher and writer...to encourage me...reminds me of what a blessing God gave me in her!

The summer Jody and her husband were married, another couple filled in as our youth pastors. Though their time with us was short, they made a lasting impact on me.

Their oldest daughter just embarked on a new journey...and I am thrilled for her. I've never met her in person, but to read her writing tells me she is one of those rare treasures who pursues the Lord with pure abandon. It also tells me that the training I received for that brief summer was just a snippet of the training she's been so blessed to receive these last eighteen years.

And again, even though I'm not in their youth group anymore, I do sometimes like to go back to them for wisdom. And here is a piece of wisdom he shared with me recently: The people God used mightily in Scripture were passionate, forward-moving, flawed people who really loved God at their core, yet did not allow legalism and fear to "spoil" who God made them to be.

I want to paint that on my wall!

Thank You, LORD, for the heritage You gave me (more years ago than I plan to put into print). Thank You for your faithfulness to me. Instill in me the passion and drive to plunge ahead in my journey, flawed though I am, but loving You to the core.

Bits for Sunday, August 9, 2009

I worked on writing a Bible study today. Those are always quite a production here in Bekahland…Bibles spread all over the living room, notebooks with all my late-night research scribbled inside, and the trusty computer ready to take on every word I write down. A few hours later, I emerged with a study mostly written. Well…entirely written, but still in need of some tweaking.

In the course of my research, I found this sentence in a Matthew Henry commentary, and it stuck with me. I was researching Peninnah, the “other woman” in the marriage of Hannah and Elkanah. Peninnah was the one who had the kids Hannah longed for…but she didn’t have Elkanah’s love…because he reserved that for Hannah alone. The commentary said, “Peninnah could not bear the blessing of fruitfulness, but she grew haughty and insolent; Hannah could not bear the affliction of barrenness, but she grew melancholy and discontented.”

Peninnah could not bear the blessing.

Wow.

Hannah’s problem was a social curse. To be childless in those days was disastrous. Men needed children…sons, especially. It wasn’t just about carrying on the family name, although that was part of it. They needed children to help with the family work. They needed warriors to protect their people. Women needed children to provide for them when they grew old and were widowed. To not have children…was unthinkable.

Peninnah’s problem was a personal curse. More than likely, she was brought into Elkanah’s life just to bear children, since Hannah could not. And that is exactly what she did. The Bible doesn’t say how many, but it implies that there were several. A household filled with a wonderful mix of personalities and potential. Little creative minds just begging to be cultivated into all they could be. Cuddlers and pranksters, jokesters and thinkers…little lives bubbling with promise and hope as little lives do best. Teachable moments in the family tent…storytelling around the fire after dark…watching the blossoming interests even in childhood. Hers was a rich and blessed life! And yet she could not bear the blessing.

Made me wonder if I’m unable to bear the blessing, too. If I’m missing the glory of what I have because I’m too engrossed in what I wish I had. If I hurt God’s heart when He sees me choosing to overlook what He has placed in my life. Choosing to focus my energies on trying to coerce him to see things my way.

I don’t want that to be my legacy. I don’t want people to look over my life – now or when I’m gone – and say I was unable to bear the blessing. I want to embrace it. Live it fully. Love every minute.

Bits for Sunday, June 14, 2009

My mind has been hopelessly overwhelmed by thoughts this week. So overwhelmed, in fact, that I sat down to journal (several times) and could not get the thoughts to transfer from brain to paper. They just swirled around up there and never found an exit.

Monday evening, as I huffed and puffed my way through a run, my phone rang. It was my friend Kristin, calling to tell me she’d just heard that someone we went to college with had died unexpectedly that afternoon. She was my age. She had just gotten married two weeks before. And that news was the very last bit of news I expected to hear in the middle of a run. After I heard it, I wasn’t sure if I should run harder or stop running entirely. And suddenly the things I’d been praying about as I made my way through the lap seemed dreadfully unimportant.

But the news of Jana’s death brought about a mental pause for me...one that I think was long overdue. I read the memories people shared about her online and was reminded that it’s the common moments that matter most. Those are the ones that stick in people’s minds and perhaps even mold them just a bit.

I love people. I love to spend time with them and share life – the pivotal moments and the pitiful ones, too. Whether it’s goofy chats or going out for ice cream or a day of hard-core scrapping or meeting a new significant other…I want to be there. I want to experience those moments with them and make a memory that they can grasp if one day they should get a phone call about me.

Later in the week, as I caught up on my scrapbook, I flipped through the pages from this year and smiled. Smiled because I saw within the pages exactly the sorts of things I’d always hoped I would see. When I was young and dreaming ahead about life, I figured the pictures would be of a husband and kids – and they’re not. Maybe someday they will be and maybe they won’t. But they are full of life. Full of fun moments and friendships and laughter and joy and…making the most of everything.

I’m thankful for my friends. For those who have made a place for me in their lives, invited me to be a piece of their family even though I’m not really such, and loved me despite my sometimes stupid actions. I’m thankful to have their smiling faces captured in my scrapbook as a reminder of the great times we’ve shared together.

When I read Jana’s obituary in her hometown newspaper, I saw an article about a 26 year old woman who died during her wedding reception…an aneurysm no one knew she had. They said she had been a healthy, active woman her entire life, but in a second, she was gone forever.

These two women are proof that you just never know when your life’s work is complete. They were done far too soon in my opinion. It’s proof that God’s timetable and ours do not always match. And I long ago stopped trying to figure out His reasoning.

I hope to live many years and add a whole room of scrapbooks onto my house, but I hope the moments I have, however long or short they might be, are filled with love and serve a lasting…an eternal…purpose.

Bits for Sunday, March 2, 2008

When you hear a great idea, you’re supposed to pass it on, right?

Well, several months ago, this seed of an idea was planted in my mind and is just too good to not share…so I’m sharing it today. I’m sure it’s not an original idea, but I suppose if I made it through this much of life without hearing of it until recently, surely someone else is the same way. So for those of you who already thought of this…come back next week, and I’ll try to come up with something original.

Last fall I participated in one of Beth Moore’s Bible studies. Not directly live and in person with her, you understand, but one of her video studies. A church in town offered her Believing God study, and since last year’s theme for my personal Bible study was faith…it seemed appropriate to learn more. And Beth is a very wise and grounded teacher, in my opinion, so I was excited to learn from her.

One week she taught from Joshua 4 – part of the account of the Israelites finally crossing the Jordan into the Promised Land. Verses 5b-7 say, “Each of you is to take up a stone on his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the Israelites, to serve as a sign among you. In the future, when your children ask you , ‘What do these stones mean?’ tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever.” To illustrate her point that week, Beth had surrounded her teaching area with huge rocks…twelve of them.

In our small group discussion later, our leader shared this idea…and I loved it so much that I adapted it a bit and have added it to my covenant list for this next decade.

My small group leader is a mother of two girls – and while I am not sure of their ages, they’re not too terribly old. She decided to start teaching them early about the relevance of God in their day to day lives. Of course she wants them to be well-grounded in the accounts told in Scripture, but she also wants them to be aware that God did not stop being personally involved in people’s lives after Revelation was written.

So she purchased some rocks at the craft store (the kind you use in decorating) and each time the girls recognize God’s answer to a prayer they’ve prayed, they write the date on one of the rocks and put it in a jar. As they watch that jar fill up with rocks, they’ll be reminded of times when God was actively involved in their lives.

Well, you know me…I love tangible learning methods. So I borrowed (stole?) her idea and added to it the extra step of journaling…because everything in my life involves journaling. How is it that I have avoided carpal tunnel up to this point?

The covenant I made with God is that over the course of the next ten years, I want to keep track of even some of the ways He works in my life. I’m aware that He’s more involved than even I recognize on a daily basis. But I want to capture those moments that need to be kept for my own remembrance as well as the preservation of my spiritual journey for my kids…if I ever have kids.

When I was little, I used to read the Grandma’s Attic books…anybody remember those? One of the stories was about Grandma’s button jar and how the storyteller would sit down beside her grandmother, pull out at button, hand it to her, and then wait to hear the story of that button…because every button had a story. Well, I may not have a jar of buttons, but I do have a jar of stones…and when someone pulls out a rock and hands it to me and says “What does this mean?” I want to be able to go to the journal, find the story and share how God worked in my life in such a powerful way that I wanted to remember it always.

Just Thoughtlets

Tonight I was out for a walk and as the clouds cleared from the sky, I could see the trails of planes in the sky.

What a difference six years makes.

I thought back to six years ago - as I'm sure you all did at some point today. I thought back to where I was when I first heard the news. I was at work - in a division meeting, actually -and someone from another office came in to tell us that the twin towers had collapsed. I was unaware this nation possessed twin towers and couldn't have begun to tell you where they were located. I didn't grasp the seriousness of any of it until later that morning when I accompanied a friend to the doctor's office and sat in the waiting room, watching TV while she went back into the exam room. For about two hours, I just sat and stared...and wondered what would happen next...and where.

Later that afternoon, I had a dentist appointment, so I spent more time watching TV...and more time wondering. That evening I had a show scheduled (I used to sell stamps/scrapping supplies) - and we decided to go ahead with the show despite the events of the day. I remember stopping at the gas station on the way home and paying only slightly more for gas than we currently pay for it - because every station around here freaked out and I think prices went up to around $4 a gallon.

My parents were on vacation, and I was scared that the whole country would shut down and I'd never see them again.

I watched Oprah this evening and saw some children who faced that very reality that day. Their parents weren't on vacation - but they never saw them again. They were a courageous little bunch...Oprah's guests. They laughed and cried and spoke honestly.

One of the kids said that what happened that day shaped their lives. They all became a little less kid, a little more adult, and much more grateful and determined to honor the lives of those they lost.

And though I didn't lose anyone close to me that day, I know the pain of a life lost too soon. Too unreasonably, it seemed. And those losses have shaped my life too.

My hope is that I won't forget those who passed through my life and out of it all too quickly. I want to remember them as vividly as Oprah's guests remembered their parents who died six years ago. I hope I honor them and the legacies they left behind.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

It is Grandparents’ Day – so happy holiday to all you grandparents on the list! I spoke at my church tonight and told a story about my Grandma Freelan, so I thought I would make today a tribute to my grandparents and tell a little about them.

My Dad's Dad died before I was born, so I don’t have any stories about him. I just will mention him here so you don’t think I forgot him!

Dad's Mom was already migrating to Florida each winter by the time I showed up on the scene. Each year, she’d spend a couple of weeks with us in the fall and in the spring on her way to and from Florida. I lived for those weeks – I thought they were the best thing ever. It was probably the best vacation my Mom had from me when I was little. Because when Grandma was in the house, nobody else mattered.

And bless her heart, she put up with so much. Anything I wanted to do to her – I could do. Some days I was a teacher, and I’d set up a whole classroom and make her my student. I’d teach her history and English and writing and whatever else I was learning in school. She had to do homework and take tests and try to excel above the 20 other imaginary (yet very smart) students in my class. I was a tough teacher.

Sometimes I was a nurse and she had to have shots and medicine and her blood pressure taken and who knows what else. There’s a scary thought – me as a nurse. Just for the record…if you happen to see me wearing scrubs in a billboard photo in a few months, please know that I’m a nurse in photos and playtime with Grandma only…and you wouldn’t want me to try anything more than that where healthcare is concerned.

And sometimes I was a piano teacher. I’d sit beside her at the piano and make her count in four-four time. I’d set the timer and make her practice between lessons. It was great!! Finally, I could be in charge and let someone ELSE do the practicing!

I loved Grandma – tonight at church I shared about what a prayer warrior she was – how I think she prayed for every person on the planet by name. And she did not get off her knees until she had named them all. Grandma was the warrior to have on your side. I miss her – and I miss her prayers.

My Mom’s parents were much closer to me in location, so I spent a lot more time with them than just a couple of weeks twice a year. They spoiled me rotten. When I was little and spent the night at their house, they’d take me out to McDonalds and buy me a real Happy Meal with the toy included. Grandma would make root beer floats and I’d sleep on the couch with a row of dining room chairs beside me to keep me from falling on the floor. They always brought me a bell for my bell collection any time they went on vacation.

They came to grandparents day at school every year and everyone always knew they were my grandparents because they were the oldest ones and because my Mom and my Grandma look exactly alike. Grandma decorated my birthday cake every year and I still have a little green ceramic doll that sat on top of the cake when I was five.

Grandma and Grandpa were a great example to me of how to be best friends forever. They did everything together for as long as I could remember…and before that even. They had devotions and coffee together every morning. They went to church every week. They prayed for their family and were involved in each of our lives as much as they possibly could be.

I am thankful for their influence on my life. I love the way they welcomed me in to a family that already had a set dynamic, but they made room for me. I always felt special and welcomed in their presence. And I love it that now I have memories to relive every day when I wake up in the home that was theirs! (Although I do wonder what they’d think of the purple bedroom.)

So Happy Grandparents’ Day – and thank you to each of my grandparents that I had the privilege to know. Thank you for being the best grandparents ever. I miss you so much.