The Gift of His Smile

I will never tire of my Dad's smile....ever.


He's made me smile since I was a baby.

 

I wish I could have seen his smile at age 18....not just in a photograph. 

If it is contagious now, I know it must have been contagious back then too.

No wonder my mother smiled all the time in photos of them together.  I can only imagine his playful personality back then.  

I'm blessed to be able to witness his smiles at almost 80.  Oh so very blessed. 

That smile lights up my heart and it always will.

If I had to choose the most special gift my dad has, it would be how he makes anyone and everyone  smile.  It can be a stranger in a restaurant, a new swim student, or the lady behind the grocery counter. It can be the person he meets on the elevator or in the parking lot.  He could always set anyone at ease with a smile and a very kind and often funny comment. He is a master at breaking the ice.

Building houses for Habitat for Humanity in 1991.

I know, I've been with him so much I catch myself doing it sometimes too.  But he is the master.  I'm not even in the same league.  It's stepping out of my comfort zone a bit to speak to people this way.  But for Dad, it IS his comfort zone.

He just flat out loves being with people, around people, talking with people, finding out about people and their lives.  He in return enjoys sharing about his own experiences.  I guess you could say he's always been a talker.  But he's also always been a listener.  There is a HUGE difference between just a talker and someone who does both.  

How many jokes have I heard through the years?  Oh too many to count!  How many times have I seen his fun and loving teasing?  Same answer as above.  To joke back and forth, this wonderful banter I never tire of is part of him still, yes even with this continual and steady losing of his memory.  God has allowed him to keep his wonderful sense of humor.  I honestly don't know what I would do without it.  The day he stops joking is the day I'll feel like I'll want to stop breathing.  

Perhaps it's just the fact he's always been a big kid..... I'm kind of like that too.  Gee I wonder where I get it from?  

I love the way he played with our boys when they were so little.  And I love the way he still plays with them now. Our motto for him seems to be, "Once a kid, always a kid."  My mother has shaken her head and smiled so often at his antics.  We have laughed until our bellies have hurt too.  He loves our reactions.  Those reactions keep the joy coming.  He loves nothing more than bringing people joy and he is incredibly thoughtful.

 

 

The correct way to blow out candles on a birthday cake....

My dad's way of helping someone blow out their candles, say, Mom for example.  Notice, he's not blowing air at the candles, but at Mom.   Oh the stories I could tell!! 

Through the times to come, I pray I will be able to enjoy his smiles and playful spirit as he battles this beastly disease of losing his memory.  It is constantly and gradually stealing parts of the dad I've always known and loved away into the abyss of the dementia world. 

Through the journey, we will not leave him.  We will joke as we go, we will laugh as we go and tickling matches with Granddad will continue.....

 

I love him too much to not keep the playful times rolling.

"You'll find that life is still worthwhile, if you just smile..."  ~Nat King Cole

 

I love you Dad.

The little purple flowers

There are some things that you appreciate all your life.

Little things.

Simple things.

Those kind of things I've found bring me great joy.

The little purple flowers....  Roman Hyacinths or some call them Old fashioned blue Hyacinths.
They were my favorite flowers as a little girl.
I remember them growing in our backyard as a child, under the Dogwood trees next to my Dad's shop.  

They would bloom every March.   I used to get so excited.


I still do....

I loved them so much, my mom made a dress for me at that age that was the color of those flowers.   I used to pick little bouquets of them and put them in my room.  Their scent filled every corner.

Right before my folks moved from the house they lived in for over four decades, my mom took me to the yard one day and told me to dig up whatever I wanted to take to my house to plant.  She and I went under those Dogwoods and dug up many of those bulbs. 

We also dug up Iris and Jonquils, not knowing what color they were, and she cut Yellowbell for me and rooted it.  The Yellowbell from their yard actually came from my grandmother's yard 2 blocks away.  She loved her bushes and shared some with Mom.   

In front of one of my grandmother's Yellowbell bushes

The bush is so easy to plant.  You can cut it off, root it and literally stick it in the ground and it will grow. Grandmama and Yellowbell are a memory for me that go hand in hand.  

All of these flowers were part of a backyard that was a haven of peace for me growing up.  A place I loved calling home.

So now I've got these beautiful flowers as an extension of my childhood home all over my yard.  

 Every year in early spring, these flowers remind me of the simple joys in life.  They flat out make me smile.  It's like God is smiling with me.  Spring has come and there is hope of a new season once again.

And they remind me of time spent with my mom.  I loved receiving the flower bulbs from her 11 years ago,  but what I loved most was the time we shared together digging them up that afternoon.  

Now I get to pick them for her.  Each March I bring her a huge vase full of Yellowbell.  The boys and I did that today.


And I don't forget a small cluster of  Jonquils and Roman Hyacinths.

"I love you a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck."

 

It's what Mom says to her grandsons almost every time before we leave to go home.  

"I love you a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck!" 

There is nothing quite like the glow on her face or the sparkle in her eyes when she's with either of our boys.

 

 

A heart with "Grandmom" on the back. And another heart with "Philip" on the back of it.  She kept his, and he kept hers.

It's almost Valentine's Day..... 

Here's to loving in abundance!

"I love you a bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck."

This Christmas Day

It is Christmas Day.  We are awaiting our first snow fall on December 25th since 1947.  I've never in my life had a white Christmas.  I've always dreamed of one.

Last night I curled up on the couch and watched "The Nativity Story".  Under a new afghan my mother in law gave me, I sat with the Christmas lights in the living room and pondered what the first Christmas might have been like, until I got sleepy.  The cookies were on the plate for Santa.  The straw was in the manger. I had laid the baby Jesus doll in the manger. It was ready for the boys to find tomorrow morning.  The stockings had their surprises hiding inside.  All was quiet and it was after midnight, when I wished Jesus a happy birthday.

This morning I was awoken by two little boys wishing me a Merry Christmas, and telling me baby Jesus was in the manger.  I loved that moment.

And today has been filled with the unexpected, yet the precious at the same time.

My youngest son had a stomach virus yesterday which prevented me from celebrating Christmas with my husband's family most of the day.  I really missed seeing everyone who had come from out of town and the entire Christmas Eve celebration is one of my favorite days of the year.  I was definitely bummed to not be able to go with Philip.

The blessing, in not being able to go, was having a very quiet and peaceful day at home with my son, who by afternoon was feeling much better.  We made Christmas cards and listened to Christmas cd's.  I even played some Christmas tunes on the piano and printed out pictures of the kids for grandparents.

Later that evening, one of my husband's older sisters and her husband and two kids came by just to say "hi" and check on our youngest.  It was so thoughtful.   I got to hug my niece, who is bound for Spain in less than 3 weeks.  She is studying her junior year abroad.  That was so wonderful to hug her neck and wish her well.

My nephew, Thomas and his sister, my niece Christina

I remember my Junior study abroad trip to Paris, like it was yesterday. Oh to be 21 again and see the places of the world!

Jardin du Luxembourg, Paris 1988

I told her to soak it all in.

Then this morning, after being notified that the baby Jesus was in the manger, we got out the video camera and started videoing  our first moments of Jesus' birthday.   My oldest took the baby Jesus doll out of the manger and held it.  I think starting this 5 yrs ago made an impression on him.  My 6 yr old was excited but did not cradle the baby for the camera like my oldest did.  It was precious.

Then those awful words I was afraid I "might" hear today, I did hear.

"Mommy, I feel sick...."  Yes indeed.  Our oldest was soon very sick to his stomach with the same stomach virus his little brother had the day before.  And it has lasted all day.  He did such a good job trying to open presents from family members, but he really was struggling. I could see his sickness was taking some of the joy out of him.

"Why did I have to get sick on Christmas Mommy?  This is the worst, best day ever!"  Meaning one of his favorite days of the year and yet he's sick as a dog.

"I don't know honey," I reassured him.  "Things like this just happen, you will be better very soon.  And we can keep celebrating this coming week."

Celebrating Jesus doesn't just have to be on December 25th.

So I've been cleaning up sickness and washing my hands all day.  The unexpected definitely came.

This sickness has kept me from celebrating the way we usually do with my parents.  We had planned on bringing them over today for Christmas lunch.  We will postpone our celebration until next week. It also kept me from seeing them today.  My brother was able to bring Christmas to them though at the retirement community and they were able to eat lunch together.

He sent me these photos today.  How they touch my heart.

My Daddy is losing his memory.  He is doing pretty well all things considered right now.  One thing is for sure, he has not forgotten his true love in Mom. 

I got to talk to both of them today.

And I'm very thankful my brother was able to bring some Christmas cheer to them today and get them together for lunch in Mom's room.

I still have my joy today.  I look at my family and how grateful I am that my father in law is with us this week, my youngest son is getting over the stomach virus and that my husband is my partner in life.

Ohhh....too many blessings to count.  And the Jesus doll in the manger reminds me that the Christ child gives all of us hope in this world full of sickness, pain and misery.  There is hope, peace, and joy in the midst of it all.

The small joys of Christmas are worth celebrating.

Chocolate Peppermint Brownie Torte on my grandmama's Dessert Rose china.  I made it yesterday afternoon for the first time.  It is our Jesus cake this year. 

A Christmas card my son made.

For me, the small things are the ones I remember quite fondly.

Happy birthday Jesus.  You are my heart.


P.S. Lord,
Thanks for another blessing.  My little boy is coming around and feeling better.  Keeping the popsicles down now and says he feels much better.  His smile is back!!   I'm so glad.

And the snow is on it's way....

Correction.  It's here!

This is Christmas

 

 Christmas is hope.

Christmas is God's love come down to us.

Christmas is a baby, Emmanuel.

It is the first part of the greatest gift ever given.

It is joy to a lost world.

It is the reason we look to the cross.

If there were no miracle

in a baby boy that clear and wonderous night

there would be no way to heaven.

God took the ordinary

and manifested his glory that night.

An ordinary stable,

An ordinary field,

Ordinary shepherds,

A simple manger.

A willing and servant's heart in Mary,

An obedient and compassionate man in Joseph,

A plan so powerful it would change the world.

Judith Poston Crovi

12-19-2010

Dancing Through the Pain

The nights of the dance of suffering.  Those I will never forget.  My Mom was in debilitating pain from a herniated disk in her back for about 2 months this year.  Excruciating pain.  It affected everything she did.  She often times could not sit in any position for longer than 10 min.  Couldn't walk more than a few steps at times.  Sometimes she could never get comfortable.  It took awhile for doctors to diagnose the pain.  At this point she was still on Hospice and they helped her manage her pain at this time until surgery.

Many of those days I was needed by both of my parents.  Mainly to help with monitoring Mom's blood sugar, or monitoring insulin shots, sometimes having to give them to my mother myself.  Daddy was burned out.  My brother and I worked shifts.  He took care of the mornings so I could home school.  I would come around dinner time and would stay until the bedtime insulin was given.  Most of the time she could still give herself her shots.  But sometimes it was easier for my brother or I to do it for her when she didn't remember things well. 

I've witnessed a lot in my life, but nothing quite like I did during the period of suffering in my mom's life.  It really affected us all.  Many times we felt helpless with the pain.  It was hard to manage nerve pain.  56 years of marriage though is a comfort and this incredible bond the two of them have.  I've never seen a love like this one.  The sacrifice and devotion coming out day after day after day.

At 77 years of age, with his own health issues, Dad's heart would still move heaven and earth for her.  He would save her life if he could, or die trying.  Christ spoke to me so much through him these nights.  I would just cry the minute I walked out the door and many times on the way home.  Oh I hated to see her suffer.  And oh, the way my daddy took care of her as best he could.  It just overwhelmed me, the love he showed her as frail and burned out as he was.

They would dance in little steps, arms around each other, round and round ever so slowly in a circle, until Dad got her to a position next to the bed where she could sit down.  Then he'd go down with her the whole way until she could comfortably sit on the edge of the bed.  Next step was to swing her legs around.  Often a painful step.   This process often could take up to 20 minutes or more just to get her from the wheelchair to the bed....actually a short distance.

What was so significant through this routine of getting her in bed, was  the way he would talk to her.  So loving, so gentle, yet so strong.  "Come on now, honey, we're going to go right over here.  Put your arms around me.  Let's just move nice and easy like.  That's right.  I'm here.  I'm not going to let you fall.  That's good.  Nice and easy.  Nice and smooth."  Even through her protests that she was hurting or was scared, "Don't let me fall.", if he sensed she was in too much pain.  He'd just stop and hold her for a minute.  Then he'd begin again.  "Alright we're almost there.  We're just dancing a little dance here.  Getting closer to the bed.  We're going to dance a little more now.  That's good.  Ooooh, I like dancing with you!!"  There his personality came out.

I would smile when he made comments like that.  The whole time he was looking at the floor to make sure they both didn't fall.  Amazingly enough, they never did.

Sometimes she would say things like, "You do?" when he said he liked dancing with her and other times she would not smile or respond to him.  He would say these things anyways.  He loved her.  He wanted her to feel comfortable and loved.  

Incredible.
Absolutely incredible.

And all I could do was stand there and watch and pray they BOTH did not fall.  He had her though.  He was making sure she got in bed.  He was her rock through this suffering.  I hated watching her in pain.  He hated watching her in pain.  But once again, he was not going to leave her.  And I was not going to leave them, nor was my brother.  There were several nights like this that I witnessed that February.  And I have no idea how many more were similar in nature, when I was not with them.

Oh isn't this what Christ does for us?  He never leaves us in our suffering.  He slows down and holds us tightly when we are scared.  He wraps His loving arms around us and guides us where we need to be.  He whispers truth and reassurance to us as we dance together, and he tells us He likes just being with us. 

I saw this in my Dad that night, a mirror of Christ.  Thank you Lord for showing this to me through an earthly father.

No other love have I seen quite like this....

A Doll Bed for Baby Jesus

The tradition started 5 years ago.....

I remembered the baby doll bed my daddy had made me when I was five years old.  Hand made out of  oak.  A piece of plywood for the bottom.  

It was something I remembered playing with in my room as a child.  

I had a big doll, I used to put her to bed there.  She and the doll bed went hand in hand.  

I believe what prompted my memory of this bed tucked away in our attic, was the annual Christmas meeting for my MOPS group that year.  It was all about things other moms did to put Jesus first at Christmas.  One mom mentioned they did a Jesus stocking.  And there were other people who shared too.  Some did not even exchange gifts.  These were a couple of mentor Moms with grandkids.  They put cards on their tree of things they were doing in their grand children's honor instead of exchanging gifts.  Sometimes it was gifts to a charity, or money towards a missions trip.  Every year the children were excited to see what Grandmom was doing that year for them in Jesus' name.

I guess all of this opened my heart more to the Lord's voice and I remembered the baby doll bed.  An idea came to me.....


Why not have our own manger?  Why not use something my Daddy made with his own hands?  He loved woodworking and simple carpentry. I wanted Jesus to come to life more for our then 5 year old son. 


So I got it down out of the attic, cleaned it and waxed it and placed it on the hearth.


It has been there every Christmas since.....  We put straw on it the week of Christmas.

During Advent we put whatever the theme is that week in the manger.  It might be a star for "Jesus is the true star of Christmas.  He is the bright and morning star."  

Or it might be a crown.  "He is the stable born king."  

Sometimes we put just a purple satin box there and fill it up with hand made paper hearts each time we see each other doing something for Jesus' sake.  

That box filled with love, is placed in the manger on Christmas morning.  Each year is special though, whatever we do.


That first Christmas we put out the doll manger was one of my most treasured memories.  I had told Joseph to look in the manger if he woke up before me on Christmas morning and to wake me if he saw the baby Jesus.  I woke early and finished my slumber on the living room couch.  I was awoken later by 5 year old Joseph with the baby Jesus doll in his arms wrapped in a blanket.  He said nothing to me except these precious words.....


"He is born, Mommy.  He is born. " 

We hugged and I said, "Yes, you are right, He is born."  
He hugged the baby doll lovingly.

The next year, 2006 was no different, he loved finding the baby Jesus each Christmas morning.  
 

2006

Our youngest is now 6 and he carries on the tradition of wonderment in finding the baby Jesus in the manger each Christmas.  

I can't wait for the excitement this year.  Even though my oldest just turned 10, I know he will enjoy helping his brother find the baby Jesus.  


This year I kept hearing, "Take down the stockings from the fireplace.  They overshadow me."  They were hanging right over the manger.  I had sensed this before but this year I am acting upon this message.  "Ok, Lord, I won't put the stockings there, I will do something different.  Help me see what You want, what You have in mind." 

These stockings  speak volumes to me of my mother's love to create.  She loves to sew as did my Grandmother.  They are special, all hand made and full of memories.  I am waiting to see how the Lord will change this tradition to His liking.  I want all focus Christmas morning to be on Jesus this year..... and in years to come.  Gifts are wonderful, and I love the excitement on each of my son's faces when they open a gift.  But I want that to be secondary to the true meaning of Christmas.  And who knows, we may wind up filling those stockings with something different in years to come.... only the Lord knows.  I'm listening though.

Amazing what he continues to whisper to my heart each year. 

What is God whispering to your heart this Advent season?  How is He drawing you closer to His Son?