What Joy Shall Fill My Heart

My larger-than-life grandmother died this morning between five and six. I was with her until around 3:30, and around 5:00 she fell asleep and went peacefully sometime after that. As my uncle said "she was always dignified, and she didn't want an audience." Indeed. She always did things her way, and even to the end she had more endurance than I did.

We had a sweet last night together.  Earlier in the evening I decided I wanted to sing to her.  Her pastor and I sang "How Great Thou Art", which is a song my grandmother played and sang on the organ in her sunroom a lot. She knew it by heart, and she liked to show off on the high notes.

When Christ shall come 
with shout of acclamation
and take me home what joy shall fill my heart
then I shall bow in humble adoration
and there proclaim, my God, how great Thou art!

He is great and I am so grateful.

{my grandmother holding baby Annie in summer 2011}

We Must Risk Delight

Here is where you can find Jack Gilbert's poem, "A Brief for the Defense."

"We must risk delight.  We can do without pleasure,
but not delight.  Not enjoyment.  We must have
the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless
furnace of this world."

Oh yes.  We must.

Water Under the Bridge

After church and a nap on the sofa today I visited my grandparents. They were sleeping when I got there.  Granddaddy in his chair, Grandma in the hospital bed.  I sat quietly for close to half an hour before Granddad woke up.  He looked over at me and smiled sleepily, "how long have YOU been there?"

My grandmother is so tiny, so frail.  I held her hand.  She cannot speak properly anymore, but she woke at one point and I gave her some liquid on a sponge-stick.  That's all she seems to be taking.

"I'm dying," she said to me in her barely-there voice.  I nodded. "Yes," I said.  We just held hands and looked at each other.  I can't not cry. I try every time and I fail. This is a hard truth.  

Later Granddad was holding her hand and I slipped into the adjacent sunroom.  "I love you honey," he said. And then....he brushed her hair.  He just gently brushed her hair on her pillow. My heart breaks at his devotion. 

 While standing in the sunroom I absentmindedly picked up an old-fashioned photo album. It was my mother's baby album, with sweet and poignant photos of my grandmother holding my mother.  It took my breath away to look at them. My grandmother was so beautiful; my mother was so happy. 

My grandfather held onto me before I left.  "I remember the first time I saw you," he said.  "Your parents were living in that little apartment.  Grandma and I went to visit you there...." He was quiet for a while.  "So much water under the bridge since then."  Yes, I whispered.  He just held me longer.  And I held onto him.

Each time I come and go I check on her shoes.  They are neatly placed under the hospital bed.  They don't move.  But they are there, like someone placed them there just in case.  And that breaks my heart a little bit, too.  

My sweet grandfather. Please pray for him. 

Those Who Sow with Tears

{A Psalm of joy in the midst of hardship.}

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,

we were like those who dreamed.

Our mouths were filled with laughter,

our tongues with songs of joy.

Then it was said among the nations, 

'The Lord has done great things for them.'

The Lord has done great things for us,

and we are filled with joy.

Restore our fortunes, Lord,

like streams in the Negev. 

Those who sow with tears

will reap with songs of joy.

Those who go out weeping,

carrying seed to sow,

will return with songs of joy,

carrying sheaves with them.

--Psalm 126

A Summer Hiatus

This summer has felt suffocating and I have decided to take an extended break to re-orient myself into autumn.  

Feeling overwhelmed is tough stuff.  The factors vary from situation to situation, but this summer my 'factors' have included a husband working excruciatingly long hours, two trips, multiple projects at home that need(ed) to be completed, events to attend, and so on. We have been too busy, and I need to take some time to reflect on how to apply the brakes and slow things down--or to prioritize the must-dos. Today  I was reflecting darkly on all of my failings and suddenly felt guilty about many circumstances well beyond my control.  This type of negative thinking is not healthy or normal for me, and it's an indication that I need breathing room and a fresh perspective.

 My maternal grandmother, who lives up the hill from us on the same farm, is now under hospice care as the Alzheimer's that has picked at her for years begins to sail away with her mind and body.  

My excellent husband turned 40 yesterday.

How, then, shall we live?   I need to embrace the season and its limitations--and embrace my own limitations--and narrow my focus even more.  I can't do everything.  

Choosing to live with joy means choosing to live well in the midst of the difficulties.  It means choosing to live in kairos time, and not hyperventilating over the chronos time. So that is my goal as I step back in this season. I can't change most of what is happening around me, but I can shift my perspective to embrace the moment, give myself and my family the compassion we need, and live in joy. 

The Glorious Flight: Louis Bleriot

My children love The Glorious Flight, the picture book story of the flight of Louis Bleriot, who was the first person to fly across the English Channel.  If you love to speak in a French accent (I do), this book is perfect for you.  But even if not, it's a wonderful read.  Louis Bleriot gets the flying bug after he crashes his car into a vegetable cart because he's distracted by an airship flying over his small village.  The book shows the various incarnations of his "aeroplane" and features some wonderful, wry humor. His arrival over the white cliffs of Dover is cause for celebration!

Bleriot's legendary flight was made 106 years ago today!

The Soul and Spirit of the House

"Their house....was a gigantic, rambling three-story affair with gabled roofs, numerous chimneys, a screened porch, and a large balcony overlooking the spacious garden where the children played.  They dug caves and climbed trees and put up tents.....

"There were animals in the house proper as well.  One room in the house became a zoo for the children's pets, which included rabbits, guinea pigs, turtledoves, squirrels, lizards, and snakes, and a natural history museum for their collections of birds' eggs and mounted beetles and butterflies.  The two eldest girls had another room set up as a dolls' house, and on the first floor the three eldest boys had a workshop, complete with a carpenter's bench.

"Their mother presided over the well-appointed home; the staff included a governess, a nursemaid, a housemaid, a parlor maid and a cook.  Upstairs was the schoolroom, with desks where Paula taught the children their lessons....

"Paula Bonhoeffer had memorized an impressive repertoire of poems, hymns and folk songs, which she taught her children, who remembered them into their old age.  The children enjoyed dressing up and performing plays for each other and for the adults.  There was also a family puppet theater, and every year on December 30--her birthday--Paula Bonhoeffer put on a performance of 'Little Red Riding Hood.' This continued into her cold age, when she did it for her grandchildren.  One of them, Renate Bethge, said, 'She was the soul and spirit of the house.'" 

                           --from Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy (Eric Metaxas)