Category Archives: Gratitude

A Grateful Lesson in Letting go of our Children

22 Sunday Nov 2015

Posted by in challenges of motherhood, expectations, Gratitude, importance of prayer, Motherhood, Parenting, Thanksgiving

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Letting go of our children reaps a harvest in unexpected ways.

As much as I want it to, time doesn’t stand still. In fact as we age I’ve found that it actually seems to move at a faster pace. Kids grow up, graduate from college, leave the nest, and settle into a new life as they seek independence and start a career or family.

Whether our children choose to live nearby, across the state, or across the country, we will be faced with challenges to our parenting and our ability to let go.

It’s a timeless lesson in love and sacrifice.

My older son graduated from college a few years ago and, because of a lucrative job offer, immediately moved out of state. There was no time for transition between the two major milestones.

It was a crazy time for my husband and me as parents. We experienced the pride of his graduation and excitement for his new life. We packed up all of his belongings and settled him into his new apartment. Then we had to face the tearful goodbyes.

Those first few months were pretty rough on all of us. Our son expressed his dissatisfaction with being so far away from his friends and family.  It was hard for him at work—starting over as the low man on the totem pole and learning the technical aspects of his job and the organizational culture. I think if he hadn’t been bound by a two-year employment contract, he would’ve seriously considered moving back home.

He recently made an expected visit to our area, and surprised his father on his birthday. I don’t think he realized what a gift that was to our family—away from the normal holiday rush that soon awaits us. For that one day it felt as if he had never left home—like one of his visits home from college.

In our short time together, I was struck with his maturity and the dramatic change in his demeanor. He said someone at work told him that the first six months on the job would be the worst. Well, he survived that and is now applying for a one-year assignment in another country. That’s quite a shift for someone who had a hard time looking beyond his present circumstances as a new employee.

As we talked about his life in his new home state, I also noticed his maturity in other ways. He was making adult decisions, making new friends, learning more about himself, his likes and dislikes.

Then it hit me. Our letting go had given him a chance to find his own way. Letting go had been a process. In occasional conversations during this time, his father and I had offered our encouragement and support. We came to trust our son to make his own decisions and for God to guide him (and us) along the way.

We sacrifice for our children in so many ways when they are young—our time, commitment, and finances. We pour our love and our hearts into them, hoping and praying that they will become wise and godly stewards of their time and talents.

Through it all, I know this to be true: they grow up way too fast, but letting go always reaps a harvest in some unexpected way.

In parenting our children and preparing them for adulthood, we can be grateful for these unexpected blessings.

What lesson have you learned in letting go of your children?

~ Ardis A. Nelson

Serendipity on Grandparents Day

29 Thursday Oct 2015

Posted by in childhood memories, generations coming together, Gratitude, Influence of Grandparents, leaving a legacy

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My grandson

Caden in a school program last year, dressed up as Andrew Jackson and reading a history report to an audience of parents and grandparents

One of the perks of living close to grandchildren is the privilege of attending their school programs. And once a year the local public schools host a “Grandparents Day” when they invite grandparents into their grandchild’s classroom for an hour to sit with them, meet the teacher, tour the school, and observe a little of the educational process. Yesterday my husband and I went to our grandson Caden’s classroom, along with many other proud grandmas and grandpas. We were impressed with the order and the creativity we observed, the energy and dedication of the teacher, the smiles on the children’s faces.

But I didn’t expect to be “part of the program.”

A week or so ago I received a letter in the mail written by Caden and mailed from the school. The teacher had given the students an assignment to write a letter to a grandparent asking about their family traditions when they were kids. You can believe I found the letter delightful. I gave the request thought. We do, of course, want to pass on a legacy to our grandchildren and share our histories with them; but the challenge comes in finding the right time and means (and “the teachable moment”).

I kept my reply short and hand-written, giving a few details from my childhood, then mailed it to Caden. I did wonder whether the teacher would see it, and what she would do with it.

Then yesterday, as I sat at Caden’s desk in a third-grade classroom full of boys and girls and grandmas and grandpas, I was surprised when the teacher explained about the letters. She held in her hand the response I had sent to Caden. Then she called Caden forward to read my letter to the class! He did so—loudly, clearly and happily. This “blew me away,” as they say.

Here is what I wrote and Caden read:

Dear Caden,

Thank you for asking about my family traditions. When I was a girl my father was a preacher, so many of our traditions happened at church, with special services on Christmas and Easter. There was exciting music, lots of people, and the children had special parts. I usually got a new dress on those holidays. And my mother cooked delicious dinners. My favorite Sunday dinner was fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy.

Every year I looked forward to two big events: Christmas and summer camp! We also celebrated Thanksgiving. I loved the smell of Turkey dinner roasting in the oven. My sister, Beverly, and I kept asking, “Is it done yet?” To help us wait, Daddy encouraged us to make lists of all the things we were thankful for. Even today, when I’m feeling impatient, it helps to stop and think of the things I’m thankful for. Today, grandchildren are at the top of my list!

Love, Grandma

Most days we don’t wake up with the thought, “How can I show the world I’m a Christian—and the difference faith in Jesus makes—today?” We just live life and let Him lead. And the same goes for passing on to the next generations our values, faith, and life lessons learned.

Sometimes the opportunities come in serendipitous ways.

~Catherine Lawton

The Blessing of ‘Imperfect’ Children

06 Monday Jul 2015

Posted by in challenges of motherhood, encouraging each other, Gratitude, importance of prayer, Parenting

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Pre-school-graduation

What a challenge and a blessing, walking with Cameron from preschool graduation (above) to Class of 2015 graduate.

For those of us who have children with learning disabilities, educational milestones like a high school or college graduation are especially significant. It is a very proud moment indeed, one that celebrates the journey as much as the goal.

My youngest son was diagnosed with ADHD at the onset of high school, and was greatly challenged by a rigorous curriculum at a new school in our district. He persevered and recently received his diploma as part of the first graduating class at his high school.

What I’ve been struck with in hindsight is how eager I was to compare my son’s journey to his older brother. These two intelligent boys forged their own educational paths through different schools. The older one started school at a very early age and rarely needed any homework help or guidance. He was considered the ‘perfect’ child and made parenting easy.

His younger brother put in a tremendous amount of effort, but was hindered by his learning disability from keeping pace with his course load. Before he was diagnosed, we didn’t understand how someone so bright could have so many academic problems.

He challenged my husband and me. At times it was hard to not internalize his academic struggles as a reflection of our parenting. At other times, I began to think I had failed him miserably.

Like other parents with more than one child, I learned the hard way what it means to be proud of, to love and respect my kids for each of their unique gifts. In the process, I also learned a lot from my son. His struggles with ADHD helped me to come to terms with my own adult-diagnosed ADHD. We pursued treatment together and bonded in loving ways.

As graduation neared, I was reminded of a friend who told me she prayed a blessing over her son every night when he was young. She would recite Deuteronomy 6:24-26.

The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.

I was touched when I heard that she recently sent the Deuteronomy blessing to her now adult son in a card as he celebrated the first birthday of his daughter. What a beautiful spiritual legacy she is leaving her grandchild.

Blessing and praying for our children is one of the greatest gifts we can give them. Graduation seemed to be the perfect time for me to give my son the spiritual gift of a blessing. So I wrote this prayer/blessing:

May Cameron grow into maturity as a godly man, clinging to his faith when the challenges come his way. Lord, bless his hands and may the fruit of his labor serve to glorify you. When the time is right, bring a godly woman into his life that appreciates him for his uniqueness and heart of compassion. Lord, guide his footsteps and give him godly wisdom and discernment for the journey. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.

I invite you to likewise write a blessing to say or silently pray over your children. Even if your kids are now adults, it’s not too late. I know the faithful prayers of my mother made a difference in my life. Pray about what the Lord wants you to say.

Our ‘imperfect’ children teach us that we are imperfect parents and imperfect people. However, if we are open to the Lord’s lessons throughout the challenges, we will also learn that we are perfectly blessed to steward them into adulthood.

~ Ardis A. Nelson

May Day Memory

01 Friday May 2015

Posted by in childhood memories, Gratitude, leaving a legacy, Remembering Mother

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The first day of May always reminds me of my mother and May Day flower baskets.

When my sister and I were little, Mother helped us make tiny baskets with handles out of paper cups on May Day. Then we filled the baskets with whatever flowers we could find — from neighborhood gardens, along sidewalks, and “wildflowers” from the vacant lot and alley. Then we’d sneak up onto the front porches of the neighbors’ houses, ring the doorbell, then dash behind a bush to hide. The lady of the house would find the basket of flowers on her door and exclaim how lovely and “I wonder who gave me these beautiful flowers?! That was sooo nice of them.”

We’d tingle with delight, sure that she had no idea who left them. Actually she had probably been watching through her window as we picked a few of her flowers to add to the bouquet. But she went along with the “magic” and really made this rite of spring special for us.

Thank you, Mother, for teaching me the joy of such simple things like surprising the neighbors with a few spring flowers on May Day.

Generations of Blessing

05 Wednesday Feb 2014

Posted by in generational patterns, God as our parent, Gratitude, importance of prayer, Influence of Grandparents, leaving a legacy, the healing journey

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Grandchild-1A few years ago, when my daughter-in-law was pregnant with our first grandchild, I sat in church as she and our son participated in the worship team—David playing guitar and Hannah singing. I thought of the baby Hannah was carrying—just past her first trimester. I watched the parents-to-be standing before the Lord and the congregation pouring forth the praise, proclaiming their faith with all their energies, their hearts, their voices.

It dawned on me that the baby—who by now had formed arms and legs—would be sensing this devotion and somehow experiencing the glory and presence of God.

Gratitude and joy rose within me, and the Lord assured my heart that His hand was already on that child as it has been on past generations; that the devotion and faithfulness of the parents would bear fruit in the children, again.

When my mother carried me, she and Daddy—just 20 and 25 years old—were preaching and praying and singing and piano playing. Honestly, I think the “language” of music and prayer were the first languages with which I became familiar.

Twenty-four years later I carried David and, during those nine months, often sat at the piano playing classical music, church music, choir music, and quartet music. My husband was singing; we were often in the midst of praying. And though we had struggles within and without, our faith was bedrock, rooted in “the ground of our being,” deeper even than the dark, moist bed of new life, the womb.

And now it comes to me like a revelation that God is continuing His faithfulness, His friendship with us—to the next generation, to our grandchildren! What a reward, what a hope, what a comfort, what a joy!

Alone at home the next day, Monday, I thought on this again, and the Holy Spirit moved my heart to rejoice and weep and pray for this new life. A sort of sing-song prayer came to me, and I wrote the words out in poem form:

God Bless the Baby
~
Oh, sweet baby,
Little baby Lawton,
Baby, do you hear it?
Hear your mama singing?
Hear your daddy praying?
Baby, do you hear them?
Blessed little baby.
~
God bless Hannah;
Bless her little baby.
Let it hear the singing,
Hear her heart’s devotion;
Make the Maker real,
Present every moment.
~
God bless David;
Bless his little baby.
Let it hear the praying,
Hear the strong assurance,
Feel the Father’s nearness,
There for His baby.
~
Oh, sweet baby,
Little baby Lawton,
Baby, do you hear it?
Hear your daddy singing?
Hear your mama praying?
Baby, do you hear them?
God bless the baby.
~
Amen.

~

–Catherine Lawton

Hope Realized

23 Monday Dec 2013

Posted by in challenges of motherhood, emotional needs, encouraging each other, expectations, God's healing love, Gratitude, the healing journey

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Nativity

Nativity (Photo credit: maury.mccown)

THE BLESSING COMES BACK — a poem

Naively, I thought that the innocent babe of Bethlehem
would always be mine to hold.
The child who ran to me with an injured knee
was completely content to receive my comfort.
I thought that I had all the answers.
Now I cling to that small window of time,
when I was able to convey a mother’s
love, values, and beliefs.

When the door of His childhood closed,
He seemed to be a million miles away.
I felt He was beyond my reach.
He spent His days in reflective silence.

What is He intently preparing to do? I pondered.
Who is this person who stands before me?
I—who bore Him, fed Him, trained Him—
shouldn’t I have some say?

But here He was in front of me, taller than me.
His confidence and focus made me wonder:
Other than bringing Him into the world
and helping Him grow physically,
what role did I play?

The circumstances of His life moved Him many miles away.
I could no longer embrace Him.
I thought about Him every day.
Where was His life taking Him?
Did He realize that the distance between us
would determine our destinies?
Did He, like me, ever reminisce about the good old days
when we lived in sweet simplicity?

Time passed, and I spied Him through the crowd
in the marketplace with His disciples.
He was always glad to reunite with me;
He always hugged me hard.

Then, I witnessed the reason for His life . . .

As I looked up at Him on the cross,
I understood everything was pointing
to that horrible day.

After three hours, He said, “It is finished,”
And my heart broke within me.
And my soul, like the tabernacle curtain, tore in two.*

. . .

Once again, He stands before me.
He cannot hide the nail-punctured wounds.
His thoughts are laid out like building blocks
of all that is noble, true, and pure.
His heart pours out with rivers of love.

I thank God for our small window of time together.
I am blessed beyond measure to be His mother.

*Matthew 27:51

~ A.R. (Alice) Cecil

Editor’s Note: This poem, written from the viewpoint of Mary, the mother of Jesus, is taken from Alice’s just-released book of poetry, In That Place Called Day: Poems and Reflections That Witness God’s Love.

To Our Followers: THANKS and a TIP (Free Book Drawing)

10 Thursday Oct 2013

Posted by in Gratitude, the healing journey

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I and all the contributors to this blog appreciate everyone who has chosen to “follow” our posts by clicking the link on the right of this page. We want to say,

 Thank You!

Here’s a tip for all our faithful followers:

The publisher of our book, Journeys to Mother Love, is holding a drawing for free copies of their new releases during their 2013 “Fall Book Fling.” This week the drawing is for the Christian novel, Gadly Plain. I wrote a post about this book a while back. The next drawing will be for Unwrapping Wonder: Finding Hope in the Gift of Nature. After that, copies of three audio books will be offered. Last but not least in the Fall Book Fling will be That Was the Best Christmas! by one of our Journeys to Mother Love authors and bloggers, A.R. (Alice) Cecil.

Click here to enter your name in the current free-book drawing. Check back regularly and enter each drawing during Oct – Dec.

We hope you’ll continue to journey with us. Together we’ll share experiences of healing and forgiveness in our relationships; encourage each other, as we share heartaches, challenges and joys; and learn and grow in our capacity to love God with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength, and to love others as ourselves.

~Catherine Lawton

Through all the Changes Life Brings, Mother is the “Glue”

19 Sunday May 2013

Posted by in Gratitude, Learning to appreciate Mom, leaving a legacy, losing mom too soon, the healing journey, when mom has alzheimer's

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Kerry Luksic

Kerry Luksic had a great relationship with her mother. Her mother had always been the strong, capable, “sharp dynamo who raised thirteen kids.” Then her mother got Alzheimer’s and their roles began to reverse. In Journeys to Mother Love Kerry shares her journey of accepting the changes in her mother and realizing that her mother’s love for her hadn’t changed.

Her story, “Finding the Blessings in Alzheimer’s,” takes us on the emotional roller coaster of a daughter dealing with Alzheimer’s disease in her mother. Then she concludes:

“It’s true that dealing with Mom’s Alzheimer’s disease hasn’t killed me. In fact, it has made me stronger. It has reinvigorated my perspective to appreciate every day, since you never know what lies ahead. It’s true that things could be worse with Mom. She could have died years ago or her illness could have progressed at an even faster rate than it has. I know several women who have lost their mothers and it’s one of the hardest things to get through in life. The loss of a mother leaves a permanent hole in your heart and can tear families to shreds. Mothers are the glue of most families….

“Even though Mom no longer knows who I am, she shows immense delight when I visit her and still recognizes the love between us…. I believe it’s through Mom’s life lessons that I have the strength to accept her fate and the role reversal the disease imposes. Mom’s lifelong mantras, ‘You don’t give up, you offer it up; you look at the bright side of life; you put your head down and just keep going’ are a constant part of who I am.”

Thank you, Kerry, for sharing your story with us, and for the reminder that mothers are often the “glue” of their families. As a mother, through all the changes life brings in myself and in my children, I pray God will help me to be “good glue.”

~Catherine Lawton

Grace to Broken Mamas on Mother’s Day

12 Sunday May 2013

Posted by in challenges of motherhood, childhood memories, Gratitude, Learning to appreciate Mom, Parenting, the healing journey

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Mother's Day card from a child

I was cleaning my kitchen and an image of the upcoming Mother’s Day flashed in my mind. I pictured myself alone. By myself. No kids. No husband. Just me. It felt refreshing. Of course this mental image came right after all three of my children came in like a swarm of bees buzzing around me with, “Mama, can I have?” “Mama, can you get me?” “Mama! He hit me!” A constant buzz of wants, cries, and whines.

I pulled out a snack to calm these kiddos of mine. Looking at them sitting quietly (only because they had a mouth full of cocoa puffs), I resumed reality. I do want my Mother’s Day to be a celebration—more for the sake of my children, because I remember when I was a little girl excited to celebrate my mom. I would present her with the best handmade card ever created. Every year I gleamed with pride as I held out the pink construction paper fashioned into a fabulous declaration of “# 1 Mom!”. My mother accepted it with a smile, knowing that no matter how shaky my 5-year-old handwriting was, or how my crayon meant to draw a kitty cat that instead looked like a flat turtle with pointy ears, she loved it. I’m sure the idea of propping her feet up with a good book crossed her mind, but she always celebrated with her daughter instead.

Mother’s Day is a celebration. No matter how my relationship was with my mom, she decided to keep me, nurture me the best she could, and, simply, be my mom. I love her for that. And I thank God for knowing my mom would be the one for me.

Often times on the days when I feel so overwhelmed being a mother myself, I will hear an encouraging message reminding me of how God hand-picked me to be the mother of three creative, caring, spicy kids. They stretch my patience, my mind, and even my skin (as evident of the marks on my thighs!) But they also widen my heart and tame my selfishness.

I now understand my mom’s smile as she held the Mother’s Day card I made for her. She liked the card, sure; but she saw beyond the scribble. She saw a child, her child, drawing a different view of the world for her—a world that offered grace to a broken mama.

My sweet babies show me grace every day by wrapping their arms around me or cupping my face and saying, “I love you, Mama.”

Now that’s worth celebrating!

~Treva Brown

A Gift of Flowers

06 Monday May 2013

Posted by in generations coming together, Gratitude, leaving a legacy

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Purple tulips with card

My sweet mother has been gone from her home on earth for more than forty years, but I still think of her every spring about this time. For several reasons: first my birthday is towards the last of April and that day years ago Mother gave me life. Also, even though she already had four living children and couldn’t afford another, she gave me love and nurturing. And, of course, Mother’s Day is coming up soon.

But more importantly, I think of Mother because spring is the planting season. Mother taught me the love of gardening and how to plant each seed, each bulb and each small, rooted plant. She showed me the way to clip cuttings from geraniums and roses and other plants to start new growth, thereby having a cheap way to multiply beautiful flowers and shrubs.

I recall the first day in early spring when I drove the few blocks to Mother’s house and together we spent the morning browsing in a nearby nursery looking to buy tomato plants. Mother reminded me my birthday would be soon and said she wanted to buy me a gift of flowers that were already in bloom, that I could plant in the yard. A lovely present that lasted all summer! I chose red salvia and a blue flower (I don’t recall the name). Usually I planted seeds and had to wait for blooms. The luxury of immediately having plants in bud or full bloom thrilled me.

When Mother’s Day arrived I gathered a pretty bouquet and presented them to Mother. And so the ritual between us was started. I am happy to say it continued for many happy years. Mother lived to be almost ninety-three and continued to garden on a small scale until about two years before her death.

To this day I enjoy digging in the dirt. It is difficult for me to stoop, so I have purchased large pots I can use outdoors. When spring comes each year I rejoice in the new life of the birds and I never fail to think of my mother and the joy she brought into my life with the love of gardening. I only hope she can look down and share the happiness with me this year. I am passing on the love she taught me to my great-grandson, and I think that as long as the earth stands and plants grow, my mother will not be forgotten.

In a few days I’ll say again this year, “Happy Mother’s Day, Mother. I LOVE YOU!”

~ Verna Simms

Filling the Jar with Rocks

29 Monday Apr 2013

Posted by in encouraging each other, Gratitude, reach out and touch, show love by serving

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 Rocks in a Jar

Ever since my “invest in people” nudge from the Lord referenced in “Walking My Mother Home,” I’ve paid more attention to those little nudges. Following that first nudge has led to dramatic changes in my life including my friendship with Rosa, Pedro’s mother, and my one-on-one investing in others who God puts on my path.

This is the story of a recent people investment that had profound results.

I was pleasantly surprised a few weeks ago when I got a call from Sandra, a new friend my husband and I met at a marriage workshop we recently attended in California. My surprise turned to sadness when I heard her brother had passed away. Sandra had dropped everything to fly to Washington State to see him before he died. On that short trip she hadn’t had time to meet with me, but would be back in town for the memorial service.

A few weeks passed and I was surprised to see that the memorial service was scheduled at the country club a mile from my house. Initially Sandra had hoped we would connect over a cup of coffee, but her time was filled with family obligations. That was perfectly understandable.

Regardless of that, I knew I would go to the memorial service. I didn’t know Sandra’s brother. I didn’t know her family. I barely knew her. Yet after an intensive weekend together in couples’ counseling sessions, we already had a heart connection. I didn’t consider not going.

After hugs on my arrival, she seated me next to a relative and bravely took her position up front with the immediate family. As the service started, I felt a nudge to record the proceedings. That isn’t totally out of character for me. My digital recorder is an indispensable tool for my writing. I didn’t really give it a second thought.

Family members read letters filled with sweet stories and memories of Sandra’s brother. The chaplain shared a story (author unknown) about sand, pebbles and rocks filling up a jar. The point of the metaphor was that the rocks are the important things in our lives—the people and things we can’t replace—and that we should make them a priority. If we fill our lives (the jar) with the unimportant things in life (the sand and pebbles) we won’t have room for the rocks. It was a fitting reflection to end the service.

When Sandra and I connected after the service, she mentioned how disappointed she was that her elderly mother couldn’t attend the service. She so wanted to have the service recorded but there were family objections to that.

“Really? That’s so sad,” I said. I felt goosebumps as I remembered I had recorded the service. I confessed my transgression to her. She was thrilled and started to cry. Sandra proceeded to tell me how anxious she had been about that for the past few weeks. My recording was answered prayer for her. It was a kiss from above and a reminder of God’s amazing love for us.

Sandra and I stole some time together on the deck of the clubhouse overlooking the golf course, basking in the warmth of the sun. We caught up on our lives, prayed for each other and reflected on how perfectly God had filled our jars on that very day with what was truly important—time together and the simple gift of following a nudge to invest in people.

What are you filling your jar with?

~ Ardis A. Nelson

THREADS of LIFE: Expressions and Experiences

07 Friday Dec 2012

Posted by in childhood memories, generations coming together, Gratitude, leaving a legacy

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Mother and Daughter Sewing

Over the years, I’ve come to appreciate the value of connecting with people. The threads of the lives of others, running back and forth through the threads of our own lives, serve to create a fabric of strength and elasticity.

One such experience was set in place when, as a child, I signed up to be a member of the 4-H club. Then I realized joining meant participating, which meant I needed to select a project from one of the categories. For me, the choices narrowed down to cooking or sewing. I chose sewing since the idea of new clothes appealed to me. Immediately, though, some obstacles became apparent. My mother did not sew and, therefore, our family did not own a sewing machine. Minor details, like not having an instructor or the means, never entered my mind when I checked the little box by the word “sewing” on the 4-H application.sewing at the dining room table

My mother could have reprimanded me by asking, “What were you thinking!?” But, instead, she said, “There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

(My mother colored her speech with expressions. “Every dog has his day,” “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” and “A rolling stone gathers no moss” are but a few of the many gems that gave me a love for words and became one of the tools that I use in my fondness for writing.)

The cat was skinned with an idea my mother had: I could sew at my aunt’s house on Sunday afternoons. This aunt never married, so her life and home were open to invasion from her pubescent niece. My aunt blossomed in the experience. I’d show up to find she had purchased yards of fabric: three yards of tiny blue and pink daisies on a cream field, four yards of bright green and bold peach flowers on a soft green background, two yards each of blue, yellow and lilac. My aunt’s house became my fabric store. I was seriously okay with her selections. I could tell she was having fun and the idea of sewing was already beginning to settle into my spirit, even as it was declaring: “This is not a fit for you.” But, I was committed to the club and now I was committed to my aunt.

pretty fabric

I sewed, and then ripped out what I had sewn with an intriguing little instrument called a seam ripper. Finally, in order to move the project forward, my aunt said, “Well, maybe it’s good enough.” Under these agonizing circumstances we “whipped out” an apron when I was ten years old, a skirt when I was eleven, and a blouse when I was twelve. The apron, like those potholders made of loops, endured in the family for decades. The skirt and blouse were worn once or twice, and then I conveniently outgrew them.

I remember the last day of our three-year run. It was a Sunday in April and my aunt’s green walls were being painted gray by the late afternoon’s pink sun. My aunt turned off the sewing machine and turned to me. “Let’s go get a cookie to celebrate all you have achieved,” she declared.

What had I achieved? One apron, one skirt, one blouse, but, more important, I had connected with a dear aunt and with the club, as my projects won third, second and honorable mention ribbons.

I am thankful for the connection I have had with my mother through her expressions that live on as part of a colorful tapestry in the fabric of my life.

~ A.R. Cecil

Birthday Thankfulness

24 Saturday Nov 2012

Posted by in childhood memories, Gratitude, leaving a legacy, the healing journey

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Thursday was my 53rd birthday, the 8th time in my life that my birthday fell on Thanksgiving. I deliberately carved out (pun intended) a little ‘me’ time to write this post after pondering my birthdays of yesteryear and the day I was born.

I know that my mother was not awake when she gave birth to me. Back then, doctors administered a combination of pain and amnesia medications which would render a woman unconscious during childbirth. My father waited expectantly in the waiting room, probably with other fathers, for word of my birth.

In those days, there were no ultrasounds to ‘preview’ the child’s gender. “It’s a girl!” were likely the first words I heard as I entered the world.

I was named after my father’s sister, who eventually became my godmother. I wasn’t very close to Aunt Ardis. She always lived hundreds or even thousands of miles away throughout my life. She couldn’t have kids of her own, but she was honored to have a niece named after her.

Aunt Ardis died many years ago. Sadly, I was not able to attend her funeral. When her husband, Uncle Edgar, died six years ago, the executor of the estate gave me the opportunity to take some personal belongings for a keepsake. I took the small amount of inheritance I received and flew to their home in Wisconsin to explore the estate. I returned home with a beautiful set of china and some silver pieces that grace my dining room table every holiday.

More than that though was the treasure trove of cards, letters and keepsakes overlooked by other family members who arrived before me. That night in the solitude of my hotel room, I scoured through the pile and was blessed beyond belief as I read letters from my mother to Aunt Ardis, filling her in on my childhood and sending her my school photos. My aunt had every letter and Christmas card I sent her as an adult as well.

I also read through the condolence cards sent to my uncle when she passed away. I really got a feel for who she was, even though I didn’t know her well when she was alive. Being in her home and going through her belongings also gave me a glimpse into myself. Best of all was finding the original birth announcement my parents sent to her decades before. She kept all of my mementos—and in the process, left me a legacy of love!

That trip was a precious gift to me from above. It gave me more wholeness and helped to fill in the gaps of my earthly identity. It is the gifts like this, the ones that touch my heart, that mean the most to me. This Thanksgiving birthday was celebrated with gratitude for the One who has transformed my heart in so many ways over the last few years.  He has redeemed the years that the locusts have eaten (Joel 2:25).

Thank you, Mom, for giving me life. Thank you for investing in me. Healing and wholeness are true gifts to be celebrated on Thanksgiving and everyday.

~ Ardis A. Nelson

“Thank You” ~ The Magic Word

20 Tuesday Nov 2012

Posted by in childhood memories, generations coming together, Gratitude, leaving a legacy, Parenting, reach out and touch

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candy dish

When my daughter, Christina, was small I took her weekly to Suzuki violin lessons. After an intensive hour of tuning, fingering, bowing, ear training, phrasing and  performing the musical pieces, the bow was loosened and the half-size violin securely closed into its case. Then the teacher, Mrs. Sloat, would pick up a cut-glass, covered candy dish in which she kept treats for her students. She held the dish in the air with one hand grasping the knob of the crystal lid. She bent close to the little pig-tailed girl, and her elderly face was a picture of captivating anticipation.

“What is the magic word?” she’d ask.

“Please,” said my daughter shyly but eagerly.

Then the lid was lifted off the candy dish and Christina was allowed to choose and take two pieces. But that wasn’t the end of the session yet. Mrs. Sloat held the lid in the air above the dish with another irresistible look of expectancy in her face.

Little Christina knew what was expected. So she said the other magic word: “Thank you.”

Then Mrs. Sloat replaced the glass lid with a soft musical clink and set the candy dish back upon the table, the weekly ceremony completed, and a child trained, motivated, and rewarded.

We teach our small children, from the time they can speak in syllables, to say “thank-you.” We’re pleased when teachers and others support us in that endeavor of encouraging politeness and gratitude in our children. Then, how rewarding it is when they begin to say thank-you all on their own. Magic words indeed!

When your child comes to you with nothing to gain, not asking for anything but expressing unsolicited, heartfelt appreciation, the reward is sweeter than candy to the fine-tuned parental heart.

My husband and I experienced this when our son and then our daughter went away to college. Our training was pretty much completed. Now it would be tested. And there was no guarantee that our children would heed or appreciate the upbringing they received. Doubts plucked at my parental heart: Did we prepare them well enough? Did we teach them all we should have? Will they leave home and embrace a different way?

After a few weeks of college dorm life and hearing about other students’ family situations, our son called home and said, “Mom, Dad, I’m so thankful for you both! I never realized before what good parents I have. Thank you for all you’ve done for me. And for who you are.”

Happy tears came to our eyes as we hung up the phone that day. Love is the reward of love. And hearing your grown children say, “Thank you,” is music to parents’ ears.

English: Hard candy Česky: Tvrde bonbonyBe sure to say “Thank you” to – and for – your mother and father as you are giving thanks to God for all his blessings this Thanksgiving.

~ Catherine Lawton