" I wasted a lot of time today, " Harry said. "What did you do?" I asked. "Talked with Sarah several times; loaded some washing; paid some bills; picked up the mail and some groceries; put one coat of paint on the airplane; replaced the wicks and the oil in the emergency lanterns; repaired the legs of a chair; answered e-mail; went to the Planning and Zoning meeting; talked to a couple kids on Facebook; cleaned the garage; took a load of weeds to the recycle center at the landfill; picked up our meds; moved money from one account to another to cover an unexpected debit [no reference to me, the guilty party], and cleaned behind the washer and dryer. That was about it. Didn't get anything done on the house, really."
That made me laugh. It sounded like one of my days when I was the stay at home mom and he was the hard working bread winner. I just did lots and lots of seemingly unimportant and insignificant things that usually had to do with one of the 5 kids having to get somewhere or eat something or wear something. Now the roles are slightly reversed. I work at the opera company and he is retired.
So I have pondered a lot about time - wasted time, particularly. And I have decided that there is no such thing as time wasted in the service of our families. All that mothers do and all that fathers do - old or young, retired or working - that serves the family is good time spent; not wasted.
The day in 1976 when I got up at 5:30 to bake cookies for the boys to take to class for Halloween they do not remember. It was just one event in a long, not-listed and unnoticed, train of "Stuff Mothers Do." I will not be written up in a book or given any kind of prize. No fame. No fortune.
I could have spent 20-30 years of my life determined to do something to fulfil "my destiny." Who knows? Maybe I was meant to be a famous singer, composer, artist (not), dancer (never), writer. Maybe I would have discovered the cure for some obscure disease. Maybe I could have saved someone from drowning if I had been a great swimmer/lifeguard.
But I didn't.
And I am glad, because -
Although lots of my time was spent tired and much was used up doing seemingly endless, mindless little jobs and projects, it was ALL GOOD.
Even the time I spent wondering if I was spending my time appropriately was not wasted. We all have to figure those things out. We have to ponder and pray. We have to discover what is right for us. We have to have choices, make decisions, follow the Spirit. Live.
Whatever we decide is the right path for us, we will never waste time if our time has been overlaid with the desire to love and underpinned with the desire to serve.
Harry now spends all of his days in the service of his family, mainly us, since you - my children - are grown. He is so lucky! What a great way not to waste time.
Mom, the Retired : Driver, Cookie Baker, Washer of Endless Clothes, Maker of Endless Beds; Weed Puller, Floor Sweeper, Nose Wiper, Sad-Child Hugger, Singer of Bedtime Songs, etc ......................
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Thursday, October 8, 2009
pulling weeds
Pulling weeds can become very addictive. I found myself pulling them along the route Sarah and I took for a walk the other day... just to see if I could. She was only a little embarrassed because she knows, understands and accepts her mother. I wish it were as easy to pull out other things along the way.
Judy's birthday is in two days. She gave me a nice present when she told me not long ago she never had to forgive anyone, because she refused to take offense. She forgave as quickly as the deed was done or the unkind word was said. We are getting up there in years, you know, and yet she still manages to teach me a thing or two from time to time.
How nice it would be just to spray my heart with a no-offense spray, like a pre-emergent weed killer. Then the hurts and offenses would never arise and there would be no anger and nothing to forgive.
But on the other hand, it does feel good to pull up a deep rooted weed and toss it away. Some of them look pretty grandiose waving their fancy little flowers in the air like brave and wanton flags. But when you get close to the ground and give a good tug, they just come up - sometimes with a big whoop that knocks you over with the surprise of the ease with which it was done. And joy of joys, there underneath the smart aleck weed is always nice clean dirt or a little tiny new leaf from the vinca I have tried to encourage along the edges of the grass, or at least something that was being hidden and choked out from lack of water and sun.
Yesterday I was reminded that forgiveness was important with regard to anxiety and frustrating feelings I was experiencing at work. I pondered that and decided that maybe that was true and I should try. It surprised me how easily it was done and what pleasant things happened afterwards. I am kind of glad I had the weed to pull, because the relief is so pleasant. If things were always just easy and happy I know I would not appreciate them as much. I may even begin to believe that I deserve a weedless, trouble free life. Then if a problem came along, I may decide that I have been treated unfairly. Whatever. too deep for me on this beautiful morning.
I wish all my family a weed-free day today. Grams
Judy's birthday is in two days. She gave me a nice present when she told me not long ago she never had to forgive anyone, because she refused to take offense. She forgave as quickly as the deed was done or the unkind word was said. We are getting up there in years, you know, and yet she still manages to teach me a thing or two from time to time.
How nice it would be just to spray my heart with a no-offense spray, like a pre-emergent weed killer. Then the hurts and offenses would never arise and there would be no anger and nothing to forgive.
But on the other hand, it does feel good to pull up a deep rooted weed and toss it away. Some of them look pretty grandiose waving their fancy little flowers in the air like brave and wanton flags. But when you get close to the ground and give a good tug, they just come up - sometimes with a big whoop that knocks you over with the surprise of the ease with which it was done. And joy of joys, there underneath the smart aleck weed is always nice clean dirt or a little tiny new leaf from the vinca I have tried to encourage along the edges of the grass, or at least something that was being hidden and choked out from lack of water and sun.
Yesterday I was reminded that forgiveness was important with regard to anxiety and frustrating feelings I was experiencing at work. I pondered that and decided that maybe that was true and I should try. It surprised me how easily it was done and what pleasant things happened afterwards. I am kind of glad I had the weed to pull, because the relief is so pleasant. If things were always just easy and happy I know I would not appreciate them as much. I may even begin to believe that I deserve a weedless, trouble free life. Then if a problem came along, I may decide that I have been treated unfairly. Whatever. too deep for me on this beautiful morning.
I wish all my family a weed-free day today. Grams
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Happy Birthday, Libby
Today is Libby's birthday. She is having fun for the two hours that Peter is in pre-school while Anna is in school and it is just Libby and Eli time. Happy birthday, dear Libby! I am happy for you.
I remember times like that when for some reason I could spend a few delicious hours alone with one child. What treasured memories. Some of the children didn't get that as often as did Norman, the first, or Michael, the last. But eventually you all did.
I hope that in spite of our large family I was able to give focused time, love and attention to each one of you, my children. I would like to be able to give it to each one of you, my new daughters and my grandchildren. I have been blessed by your love for me and it has been the greatest joy of my life to be your mother and grandmother. I hope I have enough time on this earth to clearly inform and demonstrate to each of you, singly, not as a mass of people with the same last name, that it does not matter to me whether you are short, tall, fat, skinny, blonde, brown, red, trumpet players or book readers, dancers or singers or cooks or runners or sitters or serious or cheerful or studious or playful, or if you like bright colors in your rooms, or earth tones, if you are a designer label Ames or a thrift store junkie, if you are an engineer, or an artist, a teacher, if you are tidy or unorganized, if you tie your shoes or not, if your hair is long or short, your pants baggy or tight, you play LaCrosse or Scrabble, you like Classical or Jazz or Country or Pop, WHATEVER .... none of that makes a bit of difference to my love for you. You are mine. You are my children and my children's children. I accept you as a great big bouquet of many colors and types of flowers, and you are all beautiful to me. I love you each, singly, as if I picked one of those flowers and gazed upon its differences and its beauties and sniffed its fragrance and felt my heart swell up with love and gratitude. Always know that. Believe it. Say to yourself your whole life long: my mother, my mother in law, my grandmother ... knew me, accepted me and loved me just because I am who I am.
"Grans"
I remember times like that when for some reason I could spend a few delicious hours alone with one child. What treasured memories. Some of the children didn't get that as often as did Norman, the first, or Michael, the last. But eventually you all did.
I hope that in spite of our large family I was able to give focused time, love and attention to each one of you, my children. I would like to be able to give it to each one of you, my new daughters and my grandchildren. I have been blessed by your love for me and it has been the greatest joy of my life to be your mother and grandmother. I hope I have enough time on this earth to clearly inform and demonstrate to each of you, singly, not as a mass of people with the same last name, that it does not matter to me whether you are short, tall, fat, skinny, blonde, brown, red, trumpet players or book readers, dancers or singers or cooks or runners or sitters or serious or cheerful or studious or playful, or if you like bright colors in your rooms, or earth tones, if you are a designer label Ames or a thrift store junkie, if you are an engineer, or an artist, a teacher, if you are tidy or unorganized, if you tie your shoes or not, if your hair is long or short, your pants baggy or tight, you play LaCrosse or Scrabble, you like Classical or Jazz or Country or Pop, WHATEVER .... none of that makes a bit of difference to my love for you. You are mine. You are my children and my children's children. I accept you as a great big bouquet of many colors and types of flowers, and you are all beautiful to me. I love you each, singly, as if I picked one of those flowers and gazed upon its differences and its beauties and sniffed its fragrance and felt my heart swell up with love and gratitude. Always know that. Believe it. Say to yourself your whole life long: my mother, my mother in law, my grandmother ... knew me, accepted me and loved me just because I am who I am.
"Grans"
Monday, October 5, 2009
My Sister
Happy Birthday to my sister Judy ... October 10
I only ever had one sister, and her name was Judy.
She was my first friend.
She played dolls with me.
She taught me how to sing, play the guitar, crochet, and sew.
She taught me to laugh.
She taught me to love flowers.
She made my wedding dress when she was still just a girl herself, and then -
She sewed soft things for my babies.
She taught me to bottle anything that grew on a tree and
To make mincemeat out of green tomatoes.
She taught me that you could not handle bread dough “too much”
Or pie crust “too little”
She taught me to love beauty in all things and
To work to make something beautiful out of something plain.
She was always kind, never thoughtless or impatient with a “little” sister.
She was my protector against the harsh realities of childhood.
She taught me to pray and to know that my prayers were heard.
She taught me to love going to “church” and to have faith in the Lord.
She taught me to love the Scriptures and to believe them.
She taught me how to change diapers (when we used pins) and to care for a wee baby.
She taught me patience in trials.
She taught me faith in people and affirmation of their goodness.
She taught me never to stop loving people.
She taught me to believe in Christmas.
I only ever had one sister, but that was all I ever needed.
My Sister Judy -
From her Sister Susan, Christmas 2008
Saturday, October 3, 2009
In His Own Time
On Sunday morning I had a great experience with Sarah. We talked about something silly and we both laughed. We were on our way to church. It struck me how our conversation was so normal between a mother and a daughter and how that was an answer to prayers offered over and over again beginning 30 years ago. Sarah has a lot of challenges and one of those made normal interaction between us impossible for all of her childhood and young adult life. She has always been adorable and lovable and we have loved each other without reservation, but I could not just talk with her and laugh with her in the normal ways that mothers do with their daughters.
Since she was our only daughter, I used to mourn for the loss of that in both of our lives. And I prayed every day, not that a miracle would happen and she would be a normal everyday girl, but that we could just enjoy each other without this wall between us. In those "olden" days I would always receive a peace and comfort from my prayers, but the little miracle I wanted didn't happen. At least it did not happen on my time-table. But it has happened gradually and over a long period of time and with the help of modern medicine and mostly with the real answer to prayers that were answered in the Lord's way and in His time. He does hear all of our prayers and He always answers our righteous desires, but not in our way and definitely not always on our time table. I was thinking on Sunday about how our time is different from His. It was an immediate answer on that eternal scale. I wish I could go back to 30 years old and know all this stuff, but I can't. However, I know it now and that is very sweet.
Since she was our only daughter, I used to mourn for the loss of that in both of our lives. And I prayed every day, not that a miracle would happen and she would be a normal everyday girl, but that we could just enjoy each other without this wall between us. In those "olden" days I would always receive a peace and comfort from my prayers, but the little miracle I wanted didn't happen. At least it did not happen on my time-table. But it has happened gradually and over a long period of time and with the help of modern medicine and mostly with the real answer to prayers that were answered in the Lord's way and in His time. He does hear all of our prayers and He always answers our righteous desires, but not in our way and definitely not always on our time table. I was thinking on Sunday about how our time is different from His. It was an immediate answer on that eternal scale. I wish I could go back to 30 years old and know all this stuff, but I can't. However, I know it now and that is very sweet.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Patience
I was reminded this morning how hard it has been to be patient. I used to be in a hurry. Wanted everything to happen right now. No patience. In those days I frequently did things that were my short-term, right-now solutions to challenges that might have benefited by a little longer view. For instance, one day in about 1970 when we were living in a beautiful location between Shelley and Idaho Falls and temporarily housed in a very ancient house, built around 1900 from pieces of other buildings erected before that, I suddenly became disgusted with the kitchen. I spent an entire day and money we did not have to paint the cupboard doors dark blue and cover all the other odd surfaces with a "gorgeous" matching contact paper with matching blue flowers and dark green foliage. Hey! I liked it. It was bright and pretty and put a smile on my face.
Needless to say Harry was shocked and amazed when he came home. But he smiled and said whatever made me happy was fine with him. That started me on a yearlong journey of covering over the old worn out surfaces in the entire house with anything that suited me... bright blues, greens, and oranges were the colors of the day, and we had them everywhere. :) :) Was that a bad thing to do? Not at all. But it would have been better not to have spent the time and money on that temporary fix when we knew the house was coming down in a year anyway. We were about 25 then.
I did some similar "creative decorating" when I was 45 in our current house in Providence. Tulip contact paper in the kitchen that time drove Harry the Wise to put his foot down, and he began taking the entire house apart piece by piece and rebuilding it. Now we are 65 and he is still at it. Anytime I look at contact paper with a longing sigh, he gets out his handy little hammer and saw and knocks out another wall. Now I have a window in a closet, and I love it.
Granny A
Needless to say Harry was shocked and amazed when he came home. But he smiled and said whatever made me happy was fine with him. That started me on a yearlong journey of covering over the old worn out surfaces in the entire house with anything that suited me... bright blues, greens, and oranges were the colors of the day, and we had them everywhere. :) :) Was that a bad thing to do? Not at all. But it would have been better not to have spent the time and money on that temporary fix when we knew the house was coming down in a year anyway. We were about 25 then.
Granny A
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Beginnings
It is only October 1, and yet winter came yesterday with a little snowfall that is gone today, but whose presence lingers on the tall mountains that grace both sides of this quiet valley. It is a new beginning. I had just learned to love summer and to appreciate the value of working, pulling weeds, knocking down dead trees by any means possible, watching dead things come to life with a little sprinkling of water, listening to the birds, enjoying the neighbor's cat jump through my piles of brush. Now that time is past. It is a new beginning. Winter will bring a fresh perspective and new opportunities to watch and learn. I have always loved beginnings - Morning, Monday, January, First Day of School, New Book, New Job, New Song to Sing - even Garbage Day! They are chances to start over and try to do things better; to use old knowledge in a new way. I will think of this early winter as the beginning of something wonderful and exciting and NEW. I can't wait to see what it will bring.
Grandmother
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
