My family is an interesting mix of people. There are the "big city slickers", the "country folk", and people living in the area in between. There are those who are uber educated, and there are those who have never even seen a college campus. Families teach us what is normal, they set the stage for all of our future interactions, relationships, and initial world view. The things taught to us by our family stick with us. God makes us who we are, our identity is found in Him once we are adopted by Him, but He uses family to give us glimpses of human depravity, love, compassion, mercy, grace, and millions of other aspects of Himself.
There is something so special about being related to someone...to know that some of who you are is because of who they are. Genetics comes alive when you realize the reason you are so much like another person is because of a microscopic tidbit of DNA. Whether it's having the same laugh, nose, quick temper, distractability or sassiness, knowing someone else out there shares that with you is an incredible feeling. Even if you aren't close to your family, it only takes one shared look, one glance at a crooked nose, one distinct giggle to make you feel known...deeply, truly known. Isn't that what we all long for? To be known? To invite someone inside? Scary as it may be, we want it. We crave it. This desire occasionally manifests itself in unhealthy ways, but it can also be such a freeing experience. To let go of your hang-ups, inhabitions, fears and doubts...to put out the "WELCOME" sign over your heart, and hold the door open wide. I am frequently surprised by my family. Over the years I've under estimated them, not understanding their immeasurable value. To think of all the love I've missed out on, the hugs that could have been; to think that I've been galavanting all over the place begging for scaps from others, when I've had a feast so close by, is a tad troublesome.
The time for change has arrived, dear friends. Let's see where God takes this.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Fathers be good to your daughters
When I was much younger...probably 5 or so, I left "love notes" in my daddy's lunch bucket. I'd wake up every morning, and write something like "Have a good day!", "I love you!" or draw a smiley face on small slips of paper. I'd sneak into the kitchen, and stick them in with his lunch before anyone could see me. I think I only did that a couple of years, but I used to love picturing him opening it and smiling. He really didn't ever say anything about it at home, but I knew he liked it. A couple of times my mom found them in his overalls when she did laundry.
Probably until I was around 8, a few times a week right before bedtime, my dad and I would get into my parent's bed, and call my grandfather (dad's dad). We'd take turns talking to him, and when the call was over, we'd talk about our days for a bit. Afterwards, I'd crawl out of their bed and go to my own room where my mother would be waiting to read me a bedtime story. I used to look forward to talking to my Papaw, and daddy before bed. It was our thing.
Sometimes in the evenings, my dad and I would sit and watch TV together. He'd sit on the floor at my feet and hand me a brush, to have me brush his scalp. You see, my father is completely bald...only about 8 hairs on his head...maybe. I've never seen him with hair (other than the afore mentioned 8). He's got a very shiny head...looks like a Milk Dud. :-) Anyway, he said he loved it when I brushed his scalp, and honestly, so did I.
May 2005, I'd finished my first year at Baylor, and my parents had come up to help me move out of the dorm and back home for the summer. They had a UHaul trailer hitched to their truck, and we'd just finished putting everything in. We'd been on the road about an hour or so and my mom was talking to me about something, when from the back I heard a very quiet, "She drives like me" from my dad. It was an unexpectedly, intensely sweet moment. I'm sure he doesn't know I heard him, and I don't think he wanted me to. I looked in the rear view mirror and caught him looking at me, and smiling to himself.
Zooming into the more recent past, a couple of weeks ago when my father was in the hospital, I went back to East TX to be with him. I was there 5 nights, and I spent 4 of those nights in the hospital in a chair right next to his bed (I made my mom sleep on the fold out bed across the room). At night he didn't sleep very well, so neither did I. If he moved even a little bit, I'd wake up. I imagine that's what it's like when you have a newborn.
Don't get me wrong, my father and I had a horrible relationship for the longest time during my pre-teen/teen years, but things have gotten better. As it turns out, we both secretly loved each other very much, but the only one who knew it was my mom. Every once in a while she tells me of comments he made about me when I was younger...things he did for me, sacrifices he's made even now...for his "little dumpling". He's absolutely adored me all my life, and I never would have really known if not for my mom telling me.
This brings me to my point...Fathers: TELL your children (especially your daughters) how much you love them, and back it up with your actions. Be intentional about creating special moments with them, so that they'll have those fond memories to reflect on when they get older. Mothers: Encourage your husbands to be great fathers. Help him understand how important the father-daughter relationship is, and how essential it is that his children see AND hear how much he loves them.
Probably until I was around 8, a few times a week right before bedtime, my dad and I would get into my parent's bed, and call my grandfather (dad's dad). We'd take turns talking to him, and when the call was over, we'd talk about our days for a bit. Afterwards, I'd crawl out of their bed and go to my own room where my mother would be waiting to read me a bedtime story. I used to look forward to talking to my Papaw, and daddy before bed. It was our thing.
Sometimes in the evenings, my dad and I would sit and watch TV together. He'd sit on the floor at my feet and hand me a brush, to have me brush his scalp. You see, my father is completely bald...only about 8 hairs on his head...maybe. I've never seen him with hair (other than the afore mentioned 8). He's got a very shiny head...looks like a Milk Dud. :-) Anyway, he said he loved it when I brushed his scalp, and honestly, so did I.
May 2005, I'd finished my first year at Baylor, and my parents had come up to help me move out of the dorm and back home for the summer. They had a UHaul trailer hitched to their truck, and we'd just finished putting everything in. We'd been on the road about an hour or so and my mom was talking to me about something, when from the back I heard a very quiet, "She drives like me" from my dad. It was an unexpectedly, intensely sweet moment. I'm sure he doesn't know I heard him, and I don't think he wanted me to. I looked in the rear view mirror and caught him looking at me, and smiling to himself.
Zooming into the more recent past, a couple of weeks ago when my father was in the hospital, I went back to East TX to be with him. I was there 5 nights, and I spent 4 of those nights in the hospital in a chair right next to his bed (I made my mom sleep on the fold out bed across the room). At night he didn't sleep very well, so neither did I. If he moved even a little bit, I'd wake up. I imagine that's what it's like when you have a newborn.
Don't get me wrong, my father and I had a horrible relationship for the longest time during my pre-teen/teen years, but things have gotten better. As it turns out, we both secretly loved each other very much, but the only one who knew it was my mom. Every once in a while she tells me of comments he made about me when I was younger...things he did for me, sacrifices he's made even now...for his "little dumpling". He's absolutely adored me all my life, and I never would have really known if not for my mom telling me.
This brings me to my point...Fathers: TELL your children (especially your daughters) how much you love them, and back it up with your actions. Be intentional about creating special moments with them, so that they'll have those fond memories to reflect on when they get older. Mothers: Encourage your husbands to be great fathers. Help him understand how important the father-daughter relationship is, and how essential it is that his children see AND hear how much he loves them.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Right on time
So you learn a lot about yourself and your parents when one of them is in the hospital. For the past few days, the three of us have been in this one largish hospital room with my slightly cantankerous father being the focal point. I've had a couple of medium sized realizations, that have been kind of cool. The first came to me this morning when the doctor suggested we go ahead and talk to a social worker about applying for disability benefits from social security. We talked about how my father likely will not be able to return to his job in the same position he was in before. My father really isn't wanting to return to the workforce at all, which is understandable since the man is almost 61, and obviously not in good health. I told my parents I could help them with the application process, and they sort of said "yeah, okay...let's go find the social worker." Mom and I went in search of the hospital sw, and when we talked to her, all she said was "you'll have to go to the Social Security office in your area. I can't do anything." I figured that's what she'd say...I could have saved us the trip down the hall.
Mom and I returned to my dad's room, and mom told him what the SW had said. They were soon trying to figure out what SS office they were supposed to go to, and what they would need. Meanwhile, I'd quietly slipped into the corner with my laptop, and had gone to the SS website. Within seconds, I had a list of the documents they would need, and the address of the appropriate SS office. I'd even started calling to set up an appointment, but the line was busy (big surprise). My parents were still trying to figure out what to do, and I finally shared the information I had with them. The both kind of looked at me, and I think I changed from "Oh, that's just our daughter who doesn't know anything," to "This is a professional who can help us." The conversation changed, and my mom started asking me what forms did she need to get, and how could she make an appointment. She's out now, with the little grocery list of info I told her they'd need, trying to get everything.
The second "Ah-ha!" moment happened sometime between Friday and right now. In a previous post, I mentioned being afraid to face my parent's aging/mortality as a single woman. I've come to realize now, that for the time being, I'm actually in a great position to deal with my parents' aging/health issues. Unlike my siblings, I'm freer to be here with them when they need it. For the past few days, I've been spending the night right at my father's bedside, making my mother eat, and keeping on top of the hospital staff. Don't get me wrong, my sister and her family have been here to visit, but they haven't been able to stay as long. My parents feel more comfortable asking me to do things, because they know I don't really have anyone depending on me (like children or a husband). Because I was the last one to leave home, I'm the one that most familiar with their day to day lives, which is helpful when talking to the nurses, doctors, SW's, etc. My point is, God knows what He's doing. I may not always be particularly happy with my singleness, but He's definitely got a purpose for it. He's incredibly faithful, and will meet me at the point of my needs...not prematurely, not late, but right on time. I see now why the song, "He's an On Time God" was written. :-)
Mom and I returned to my dad's room, and mom told him what the SW had said. They were soon trying to figure out what SS office they were supposed to go to, and what they would need. Meanwhile, I'd quietly slipped into the corner with my laptop, and had gone to the SS website. Within seconds, I had a list of the documents they would need, and the address of the appropriate SS office. I'd even started calling to set up an appointment, but the line was busy (big surprise). My parents were still trying to figure out what to do, and I finally shared the information I had with them. The both kind of looked at me, and I think I changed from "Oh, that's just our daughter who doesn't know anything," to "This is a professional who can help us." The conversation changed, and my mom started asking me what forms did she need to get, and how could she make an appointment. She's out now, with the little grocery list of info I told her they'd need, trying to get everything.
The second "Ah-ha!" moment happened sometime between Friday and right now. In a previous post, I mentioned being afraid to face my parent's aging/mortality as a single woman. I've come to realize now, that for the time being, I'm actually in a great position to deal with my parents' aging/health issues. Unlike my siblings, I'm freer to be here with them when they need it. For the past few days, I've been spending the night right at my father's bedside, making my mother eat, and keeping on top of the hospital staff. Don't get me wrong, my sister and her family have been here to visit, but they haven't been able to stay as long. My parents feel more comfortable asking me to do things, because they know I don't really have anyone depending on me (like children or a husband). Because I was the last one to leave home, I'm the one that most familiar with their day to day lives, which is helpful when talking to the nurses, doctors, SW's, etc. My point is, God knows what He's doing. I may not always be particularly happy with my singleness, but He's definitely got a purpose for it. He's incredibly faithful, and will meet me at the point of my needs...not prematurely, not late, but right on time. I see now why the song, "He's an On Time God" was written. :-)
Sunday, July 27, 2008
To live is Christ, to die is gain
So often it seems Christianity is portrayed as something that makes you weaker, more timid...a person afraid of their own shadow. It's more fun to reticule and torment Christians, because their beliefs keep them from doing anything about it other than thanking and blessing you. The truth is...being a real Christian takes uber amounts of courage. The awesome thing is...the courage comes from Christ and His love. This week, I've been faced with my father's mortality. Understanding and really believing the fact that if you don't have Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior, you will go to Hell takes on a whole new context in times like these.
A friend and I were talking about how it seems we (Christians) tend to be a bit more afraid to witness to our own family members or close friends for various reasons. The idea that once you put that out there and call someone a sinner...and that those words can't be taken back sort of glues your tongue to the roof of your mouth. We desperately don't want to be that person. These thoughts crossed my mind as I was considering whether or not I could/would talk to my father about Jesus. It's important not to let DNA get your thoughts all twisted around. The fact that you don't want your loved one to spend an eternity in the fiery pits of Hell, separated from Jesus forever should be just the can o'spinach you need to drive you to unashamedly witness to them. My thought is...I can live with the awkwardness that can sometimes come from being that person, but they can't live without Jesus.
A friend and I were talking about how it seems we (Christians) tend to be a bit more afraid to witness to our own family members or close friends for various reasons. The idea that once you put that out there and call someone a sinner...and that those words can't be taken back sort of glues your tongue to the roof of your mouth. We desperately don't want to be that person. These thoughts crossed my mind as I was considering whether or not I could/would talk to my father about Jesus. It's important not to let DNA get your thoughts all twisted around. The fact that you don't want your loved one to spend an eternity in the fiery pits of Hell, separated from Jesus forever should be just the can o'spinach you need to drive you to unashamedly witness to them. My thought is...I can live with the awkwardness that can sometimes come from being that person, but they can't live without Jesus.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
candles burning at both ends.
On Friday, my mother will turn 61. With each passing year I take a closer and closer look at my parents' mortality. This may sound morbid to some of you, but others of you are probably nodding your heads in understanding. The older my parents get (my father will be 61 in October), the more I think about my own lot in life and the lots of my siblings. As some of you may know, I do have two biological siblings. A sister, 37; and a brother, 38. I don't have a working relationship with either, and I mainly know about their lives through the bits and pieces I get from our parents (even now it feels weird saying our parents). Both my brother and sister each have a child, and my sister has been married for 15 years. Now you may be wondering how my parents' mortality ties in with my brother and sister. You see, the older my parents get, and the more single I get (okay, so maybe singleness doesn't really increase, but occasionally it feels that way); the more resentment becomes a concern. Given our family medical history, I'm somewhat concerned about how many "good years" my parents have left.
The resentment comes in when I start thinking about all the things my parents have shared with my significantly older siblings. They (my sibs) got my parents when they were a young, fresh, newly wed couple. Both got the "new parent" smell. They were involved with all kinds of things, and their childhoods were like the Golden Ages. They got to go through their 20s and finding their way in life when my parents were middle aged. My father walked my sister down the isle. I remember when he had "the talk" with my future brother-in-law before he proposed. Facing my parents' mortality as a single woman scares the crap out of me. I think back to how they took care of my paternal grandfather during his last years of life, and I know they couldn't have done it without each other. Christians, I know we aren't supposed to worry about tomorrow, nor what we shall eat, drink or wear, because God will handle it, but that doesn't mean that I don't.
What if my parents pass away before I finally get established in a career, marriage, or in some other way? What if the Lord FINALLY blesses me with children, and my parents are there to share in that? Sometimes I find myself anxious to give them grandchildren just to "make it up to them". They were definitely part of the movement of "grandparents as parents". They practically had to raise my nephew (who is 15 now), because in someways, I feel my sister wasn't ready to be a mother...and she didn't chose a husband wisely. They haven't gotten to be just grandparents, because I was only 10 when my nephew was born. So not only did they have the mid-life child to raise, but they had to start over again with a grandchild that lived with them off and on.
I guess, if I'm honest, I'd say I want to make them proud. I want to be the child that has a good working relationship with both of them, went to college, got married, had a family and was just a well behaved, Christian woman. I want them to see that before it's too late. So this is where the resentment that my brother and sister "got them first", comes from. I feel as if I now have half the time to be 4 times better. Not to mention, I don't want to face their mortality as a single person because I know I will NEED the love and support of someone who's there "for better or for worse". This may sound old fashioned, but I sometimes sense that my father worries about whether or not I'll be taken care of if anything ever happened to them. Just something to think about: what do you want your parents to see happen in your life before they pass? Brings new meaning to the words "die happy", huh?
The resentment comes in when I start thinking about all the things my parents have shared with my significantly older siblings. They (my sibs) got my parents when they were a young, fresh, newly wed couple. Both got the "new parent" smell. They were involved with all kinds of things, and their childhoods were like the Golden Ages. They got to go through their 20s and finding their way in life when my parents were middle aged. My father walked my sister down the isle. I remember when he had "the talk" with my future brother-in-law before he proposed. Facing my parents' mortality as a single woman scares the crap out of me. I think back to how they took care of my paternal grandfather during his last years of life, and I know they couldn't have done it without each other. Christians, I know we aren't supposed to worry about tomorrow, nor what we shall eat, drink or wear, because God will handle it, but that doesn't mean that I don't.
What if my parents pass away before I finally get established in a career, marriage, or in some other way? What if the Lord FINALLY blesses me with children, and my parents are there to share in that? Sometimes I find myself anxious to give them grandchildren just to "make it up to them". They were definitely part of the movement of "grandparents as parents". They practically had to raise my nephew (who is 15 now), because in someways, I feel my sister wasn't ready to be a mother...and she didn't chose a husband wisely. They haven't gotten to be just grandparents, because I was only 10 when my nephew was born. So not only did they have the mid-life child to raise, but they had to start over again with a grandchild that lived with them off and on.
I guess, if I'm honest, I'd say I want to make them proud. I want to be the child that has a good working relationship with both of them, went to college, got married, had a family and was just a well behaved, Christian woman. I want them to see that before it's too late. So this is where the resentment that my brother and sister "got them first", comes from. I feel as if I now have half the time to be 4 times better. Not to mention, I don't want to face their mortality as a single person because I know I will NEED the love and support of someone who's there "for better or for worse". This may sound old fashioned, but I sometimes sense that my father worries about whether or not I'll be taken care of if anything ever happened to them. Just something to think about: what do you want your parents to see happen in your life before they pass? Brings new meaning to the words "die happy", huh?
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