Tag Archives: grandma

The co-grandma adventure

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IMG_4177I’m a grandma. Yes, I say it proudly. I became one alongside my co-grandma, my son-in-law’s mom, Maureen.

We’ve been friends for a long time, becoming closer once our kids started dating.  In fact, after Kimmi and Nathanael’s first date, Maureen called me at work and when I answered the first thing she said was, “Is this the possible future mother-in-law of my son?” We laughed with hopeful hearts, and then with full-to-bursting hearts, we hugged at their wedding the next year.

We don’t communicate regularly but whenever we get together we have a wonderful time. I love her.

I got a call at work on a Thursday from my sweet first-born girl telling me she would be induced on Saturday. “I’ll be there!” I told her excitedly. Not long after, I got a text from Maureen in Indiana asking if I would pick her up on the way. Her husband Jim would be flying in later. What a great plan!

It was a spotless sunny day for me to drive from Illinois to grandma-hood. Maureen called when I was about 2 hours from her house asking if she had time to bake cookies. What a great idea! Cookies are always a good idea, especially Maureen’s cookies. I finally got to her house and hopped out of the car, got a big hug from my friend, put her things in the trunk (including freshly baked cookies) and we took off for Ohio.

The rest of the drive was much more fun. We talked and talked, about the baby, about our kids, about blessings and struggles of ministry life (Maureen is a pastor’s wife, too).  Once we arrived, a late night run to Cracker Barrell was in order due to Kimmi’s craving for biscuits and gravy, then the kids were off to the hospital to spend the night and Maureen and I settled in at their house.

The next morning after their greyhound, Danny was taken care of, we hopped in the car, found a Starbucks, found the hospital, delivered said Starbucks to Kimmi and Nathanael, and sat down in the room with them to wait.  Whenever it was time to check Kimmi’s progress, Maureen and I would step out in the hall, waiting for permission to come back in. The last time we stepped out it was time for Kimmi to start pushing.  The labor room was in a hallway with only three rooms and the other two were empty at this point.  The grandma plan was to stand outside the room, with a foot in the door to keep it slightly open like any respectable eavesdropper, in hopes of hearing the long-awaited miracle moment of Ezra’s birth and first cry.

Our hearts were beating fast and we leaned close to listen until we were interrupted by a nurse we hadn’t seen yet that day, who must have just come on shift. With a stern expression, she instructed us that it was hospital policy to not allow visitors to congregate in the hallway and that we would need to go out of the labor hallway and out to the waiting area. Reluctantly, begrudgingly, we obeyed. Maureen dubbed our new friend “Nurse Deitzel” as she had a militant, “keeping order” air down pat.

We sat alone in the waiting room down the hall…waiting. Maureen flipped absent-mindedly through a magazine, I messed around on my iPad.  I set it down to find a water fountain and as I was walking back, Maureen hopped up and said excitedly, “The lullaby! It’s playing! He’s here!”  (whenever a baby was born, Brahm’s lullaby was played over the speakers in the maternity ward.) I scrambled to my chair, “let me cover up my iPad real quick!” only to realize the song playing was from the game “Candy Crush.” Argh!  Crestfallen, we sat back down only to spring back up as Nathanael came through the doorway beaming, “He’s here!” Lots of hugs shared, he gave us the details so we could update family and friends who had been waiting with us and keep tabs through texts.

The moment finally came when we could walk, practically skip, back down the hallway and into the room to see Kimmi sitting up in bed, with her precious boy all wrapped up, lying still and quiet in mom’s arms. Yes! Finally! Praise God. So proud. So blessed. So happy I couldn’t even cry.

The grandmas went to pick up pizza and bring it back, only to pass “Nurse Deitzel” in the hallway. We smiled cheerily at her and marched right on to the room where our grandson was. No stopping us now!

The next day was all fun: Lots more getting Starbucks, food for lunch and dinner, holding Ezra, visiting with the new mom and dad…just being grandmas. I love this role.

Maureen had to leave Sunday. I stayed until Tuesday, so got to hold little Ezra John (EJ) his first night at home in between feedings so his Mommy (my beautiful daughter!) could hopefully sleep a little bit.  EJ and I slept on the couch – I will never forget that night. I was exhausted the next day driving home but also still riding the high of all this love.

EJ will never lack love and I often thank God that we share grandparenthood with Jim and Maureen, two of the best who love Jesus so much and love people so well. Dear friends. Fellow co-grandparent adventurers! And it’s just beginning.

(Ezra John will be two in September! I wrote this shortly after he was born and never posted it. Reminiscing brings it all back as if it were yesterday.)

As It Should Be

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Two weeks ago this very night I was standing next to a hospital bed, peering at the chubby-cheeked, puffy-eyed, quiet little one nestled on my daughter’s chest, skin to skin. He opened and shut his hand slowly, his eyes locked on hers as if to say, “There you are, sweet mom who has been carrying me. I wondered what you looked like. I love you.”

The entire weekend opened the old memory boxes in my mind from 1990 when I had my first baby, Kimberly. How surreal to be the ones waiting from across the room (Nathanael’s mom, Maureen, and I), the ones not feeling the contractions but watching with rapt attention each one being drawn out in jaggedy rising and falling lines on the screen over Kimmi’s bed. How truly wonderful to sit and ponder the miracle of life, of a woman carrying a living child, of the baby’s journey from that warm, safe haven out into the world.

We already knew the baby was a boy, and his name was Ezra. The sound of his heartbeat swished along all day on the monitor, our constant companion and reminder there was a little one involved in this labor whom we couldn’t see yet but was absolutely real and alive and amazing.  Psalm 139 played over and over in my head:

“You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body
    and knit me together in my mother’s womb.
Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
    Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.
You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,
    as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.
You saw me before I was born.
    Every day of my life was recorded in your book.
Every moment was laid out
    before a single day had passed.

How precious are your thoughts about me, O God…”

During the early part of the day and into early afternoon, our time was spent visiting and laughing with Nathanael and Kimmi, as the epidural had done its work and the contractions swelled along without bothering her much.  But as evening approached, I noticed Kimmi getting really quiet and realized she was feeling them. The medicine wasn’t masking the pain as much anymore and so the labor became true to its name.

Sitting across the room, remembering how those contractions feel, I was aching for it to be over for her. Of course, I was helpless to make the pain go away or make things progress any more quickly. It was all part of the process. She didn’t speak much, only what was really necessary. Ezra’s heartbeat kept swishing away, the sun went down and the lights were dim. Nathanael sat on a rolling stool by Kimmi’s bed, holding her hand, sometimes bending down to kiss her cheek, quietly watching the contractions and baby’s heart rate on the monitor.

That image of the two of them in those hours is imprinted in my memory. I saw Kimmi’s husband being her comfort, strength, and more. They are becoming a family, these three, I thought to myself. There were many times when I got to comfort young Kimmi, watch over her, be there for her, and so forth, but now she will more often turn to Nathanael and they will figure things out together. As it should be.

It’s a new chapter of their lives and in ours. Life keeps moving through seasons, bringing change upon change, and we’d do best to roll with it and accept things as they come. Though I’m still a mom, now I’m also a grandma! And, oh my goodness, how I love that little baby boy. As I pray for Ezra and his mom and dad, I will keep trusting God to watch over all three of them as He always has. I get to love on them and watch from my place, but God will lead them and write the story of their sweet family for them.

And that is as it should be.

Remembering Flo

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Today would have been my Grandma Neal’s 90th birthday.  Five years ago, on a December day in Columbus, Ohio, grandma was on her way to her second Christmas party gathering of the day, blacked out while driving and drove off the road.  By the time the ambulance got her to the hospital, she had already gone to be with Jesus.

My mom and her brothers are going to celebrate her today, scattering her ashes (what remains of her earthly “shell”) at the foot of “her mountain” in Huachuca City, Arizona. Grandma used to live out there in the Sierra Vista valley surrounded by desert hills and it’s the perfect resting place.  She would have loved knowing they are doing that today, and that they’re doing it together.

I miss her.  As I’ve thought about her this week, a fresh sadness at her absence in our lives has washed over me.  There was so much good about my grandmother, who wasn’t perfect of course, but was a vibrant, genuine, extremely loving woman of God.

I miss her impassioned voice when she prayed to Jesus, whom she loved more than anything or anyone.  I miss hearing her cheerful voice and laughter and seeing her make strangers into friends at the grocery, the bank, restaurants and even at the door of her apartment, inviting the pizza delivery boy to church.

I remember so many things, so many good memories are swirling around in my heart today.  One that stands out is how, following my mastectomy, my mom and grandma came to take care of me and help John with the house and the girls.  After mom left, grandma stayed longer and watched over me, brought me my meals, told me to take naps, sat with me and talked, prayed with me, and folded laundry while I sat on the couch.  It was a precious time and it was the way she loved people the best.

Grandma was a hands on person, she showed her love by serving.  For a time she worked in the V.A. hospital treating old soldiers with respect, cheering them up with her ever-present smile, washing their old tired bodies and keeping them comfortable.  For years she watched over and took tirelessly care of my grandfather when he was battling Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s disease.  I remember one time she went over to my other grandmother’s house, Grandma Shultz was wheelchair bound at the time, and gave her a decent bath.  Humility and love was wrapped up in her tall, fair-skinned, Norwegian body.

She made friends with her neighbors, no matter what nationality.  At her last apartment complex she had befriended several Indian families and had them over for dinner, took them jello salads, and enjoyed dinner in their homes.

She was acting out her love for Jesus by loving people.  She did it well.  I want to be more like her.  I love her so much, still, and miss her so much today my heart aches.

When her ashes are scattered it will be meaningful and special, but Grandma isn’t in those ashes.  She’s with God in heaven.  If Grandma had her way she’d be surrounded by cute little white doggies, lots of flowers and maybe even a concrete donkey or set of frogs on a love seat in her heavenly garden.  I can imagine her sitting at the foot of a mountain with Jesus, smiling and talking with Him, praying still for her children and their children to know Him.

I remember you, Grandma Neal, and I love you!  Someday I’ll sit with you there.

‘Til the very end

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The goodbyes began this week.  It seems as though we’re walking in between waving farewell to friends here and waving hello to friends ahead.  It’s usually a good thing if that in between period doesn’t last too long.  More than anything, more than sadness, I feel deeply thankful for the connections we’ve made here knowing I don’t have to break any of them.  I get to keep the friends I’ve made and take them along with me in my heart as I meet new ones.

One of my goodbyes will be to my 96, almost 97, year old grandmother Retha.  She lives in a nursing home in Anderson and I went by to visit her today.  Luckily she was up in her wheelchair instead of lying in bed, so I took her down the hall to a nice, open room with big windows letting in the sunshine.  We sat facing each other and catching up.  Grandma does remarkably well considering her age.  She was really happy when I told her John has a pastorate now and we have a good place to go live and serve.  She was also happy it’s not terribly far away.

A good friend of mine, who has been friends with my grandmother for much longer, is a lady named Ann Smith.  Ann radiates joy and life out of her relationship with Jesus, even now in her eighties.  The last time I saw her she gave me a Bible verse to read to my grandma.  I shared it with grandma today.  It’s Isaiah 46:3-4: Continue reading →

Touch

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Never underestimate the power of a touch, of holding a hand, of a really good hug.

We went to see my grandmother today.  She’s 96 1/2 and making the most of her days.  Today she advised us to try writing with our left hands so that if we ever lost the use of our right hands we’d be prepared.  (She has lost the use of her right hand due to a stroke)   She also told us her thinker wasn’t fast enough as she was having trouble getting the words she wanted to use to surface when she talked with us.  She grinned a lot as we sat on the front porch of her nursing home, enjoying the autumn sunshine and breeze.  She always asks us what we’ve been doing and didn’t disappoint today.  The girls shared about school, boyfriends, hobbies, etc.  Grandma always asks for them to bring her pictures they’ve taken or drawn, come play music for her, share and leave bits of themselves with her to enjoy when we’re not there.

You need to know something about my grandmother.  Continue reading →

Snippets

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Just a few recent thoughts…

Last week I went through an awful day of emotion and wrestling with God over the possibility of going to a town or church where I didn’t want to go, where I didn’t think I would be happy, where it wasn’t my “style.”  As I vented to him all the way driving to work, I pretty much heard him say, “So, are you saying you refuse to go if I ask you to go there?  You refuse to obey?”  I remembered that if God’s promises are true, and I believe they are, then going where He says to go will be good in the long run because He promised He has good plans for me and my family.  I also remembered, with his help, that this is not about me!  How many times do I have to learn that lesson?  Sheesh.  I’m sure that is what He is wondering, too.  Just when I think I’ve learned all about surrender, God takes me to a deeper level.  It hurts and it’s hard.  It was a difficult, emotional day but it ended in peace when I finally, in my heart, submitted to Him and said “Uncle” once more.  Whatever you say, God.  Seriously.  I give.   I joked with a good friend that afternoon that sometimes surrender feels like the “S” word to me.  I don’t mean that disrespectfully, just being honest.  Sometimes it stinks (at least it seems to at the moment).  My friend asked, “so what you’re telling me is you’re standing in a big pile of surrender right now?”  We laughed really hard and the day got better from there.

I’ve been thinking more about loving people in their own love language.  Lately God’s been showing me how to love my girls in the way that shows love to them the most.  I’m still trying to figure out one of my girls – I think I know but am not sure.  The other two – I’ve got them nailed.  John and I took assessments this past year and one was the love language profile.  One of my big love languages right now is “acts of service”.  When someone helps me with something it makes me feel loved.  I also love hugs and attention and words of affirmation but at this point in my life, acts of service speak loud and clear.  Once John found out, he’s been helping more around the house and showing more thoughtfulness…and you know what?  It’s true!  I feel so loved and valued by him, more than before.  The biggest reason is that I know he’s doing those things purposefully to show me love, knowing it means something to me.  John’s biggest love languages are touch and time.  I’ve been trying harder to pay attention to him when we’re at home and not get too absorbed in the computer or other things that I just exist in the same house or room with him.   What are the love languages of the special people in your life?  Try to find out and then show them love that way.  Watch what happens!

Yesterday I blogged about this wonderful time of rest God is giving us and how good it felt.  Well, today, I felt restless and kind of weird.  Pesky, fickle emotions!  I think sometimes we rest out of obedience.  God actually tells us to rest and we need to obey, on purpose, and rest…be still.  I feel like He’s telling me that today.  Rest, be still, but don’t just sit there…draw nearer to me, Mimi.  I’m going to work on that.  Wait…wrong choice of words.   I’m going to try more intentionally to just be close, dwell near and in Jesus right now.

What funny, odd, silly creatures we humans are sometimes.

We went to see my grandma on Sunday afternoon.  She was actually pretty perky, sitting up in bed, watching TV.  Rather than greet us when we got there she first asked, “What channel is the game on?”  So we helped her get on the right channel.  She is starting to show some dementia because she asks the same questions from time to time.  She joked about getting her phone and remote (both laying next to her hand on her bed) mixed up and John teased her about pointing the phone at the TV by mistake and accidentally calling someone.  She laughed.  At one point she said, “Too bad I don’t have any games we could play” to which I replied, “That’s okay, Grandma, we’ll just watch the game.”  Then she asked us about our church situation (very coherent and sharp).  John answered her as she turned back toward the TV and seemed to zone out for a moment.  Then she said, “Too bad I won’t have any games for us to play, we could make one up” to which I replied, giggling to myself, “That’s okay Grandma, we’ll just watch the game.”  I love her.  I could just imagine what kind of game that would be.  She’s become thinner and tinier, her blue cowl-neck sweater swallowing up her small shoulders and little frame, but she welcomed our hugs and kisses just as warmly and as we left said, “I love you.”

I better go to bed so I can get up and workout with my Wii coach on the game “Active” which is my new favorite thing.  This simulated personal trainer business reminds me of stuff I saw in Tomorrowland at Disney World when I was younger and thought “Yeah, right, that will never happen.”  🙂

You’re special and God loves you very much.  Good night.

Grandma came to see me

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Last night I dreamed I was at some meeting or seminar with my boss and his wife, Cindy. Each morning of this seemingly week-long meeting, my grandmother (who died over a year and a half ago) came to see me, gave me a hug, said some encouraging cheerful words and left. On the last day of the meeting (somehow I knew this in my dream) I realized it was also the last time she was coming to see me. I sat with my boss and his wife at a table, feeling a lump grow in my throat. Cindy asked me, “You’re going to really miss her aren’t you?” I began to cry, not able to hold it back anymore. I awoke and was actually crying a little on my pillow.

I do miss my Grandma. It’s funny how weeks will go by and I won’t think about it much, but then out of the blue a memory of her will surface or an odd, wonderful dream like this one and the pain of her not being there anymore bobs to the surface.

What will my daughters and hopefully grandchildren remember about me someday when I’m gone, not coming to see them anymore?

The first things that pop into my mind when I think of Grandma are her joy for life, her love for Jesus and openness in talking about him to anyone and everyone, her cheerfulness and often humorous enthusiasm, her smile, her loving pet names for us like “dolly”, and her faithful, tenacious love. I knew she was behind me 200% no matter what. She made sure of that.

So it doesn’t surprise me that she’d make a cameo appearance in one of my dreams to remind me how much she loves me. I look forward to the day when I’ll get to hug her again, kiss her soft cheek and see those twinkling Norwegian blue eyes. I won’t have to miss her anymore.