my fiftieth year – Page 3 – The Welcome Home

30 Favourite Things #2

Okay… so yesterday I told you that I’d be posting “thirty favourite things” from the last year… things that were big or important to me that I never really wrote about — some of the “life changing” or “significantly impacting things” from my 50th year. And I’ve been thinking that I have so many significant things to share — but what are worth telling — or, more importantly (considering this is a public venue), what are worth reading? So I’m attempting to tell the stuff that’s worth reading.

June was an extremely busy month and, as such, some of the ‘big things’ that happened were very obscured by some smaller busy-ness – but weren’t small things at all.

Probably one of the most cherished events or most significant events I’ve ever experienced have been the births of each of our children and witnessing the births of our grandchildren. The incredible gift of life — the experiencing God in the indescribable instance of birth is truly one of the greatest treasures I have or will ever have. So, then, on the eleventh of June I had the great honour and privilege of caring for my friend who was labouring with her sixth child. When my husband and I arrived at their home, our friend was in the throes of labour and the waves of pains were wracking her body as the time drew nearer for the birth. Her husband and mother were there comforting and caring for her. It became obvious that the midwife would not arrive in time for the birth and more obvious that her husband and I would be the ones to care for her during the actual birthing of the baby. Continually working with her to give her assurance and comfort, I trusted God to guide our thoughts and decisions. Time, space and propriety does not allow for the recounting of all the (very significant to me) details of this wonderful night.

Surely the presence of the Lord was in that place — great peace was intermingled with the thrilling anticipation of the impending birth. She was so beautiful and serene there in the warm water and as the baby was born – “in the caul” – into the waiting hands of his father, it was so obvious the blessing of the Lord was on him – on the mother – on the baby – and surely giving me great peace and comfort. The father is a fireman — but that’s not why I had no fear. He has helped with births as I have in the past, but that’s not why I had no fear. I had no fear because the presence of the Lord was so evident.

As the father moved to gather necessary things, I was so honoured to place the baby in the hands of the mother and to hold him there with her so that I could more carefully assess the baby’s colour, breathing and cord. Everything looked very good as it was a very, very smooth birth (note, I never said very, very easy or pain-free). But you know… if there was pain, if there was too much or if it was hard, my friend showed none of that. She was as if to be carried through on the wings of angels — that’s the only way I can describe her beauty and countenance. I will never, ever forget that most wonderful night.

The midwife did arrive some time later, was pleased with our ‘work’ and completed the care and assessment of the baby and mother. God had surely blessed that whole labour and delivery and it was very evident to me the prayers of the saints were with us.

I prepared a meal and tea to drink and brought it up for our serenely resting friend… in her arms was the precious newborn Timothy who had been so named for our missionary son. This was surely one of the greatest honours we’ve ever received. We prayed and do pray the Lord will bless, guide and use this little 2nd :o) Timothy in great and mighty ways all the day of his life.

When I awoke after a few hours sleep in the morning… I cried with awe, joy and thankfulness at the goodness and mercy of the Lord. He alone does wondrously and all things well.

30 Favourite Things #1

Helloooooooooooooo there… I’ve been missing this place. Or, rather, I’ve been missing from this place. I have been racking my brain as to what to do to jump back into the blog pool… it’s sort of like exercising… I love it when I am exercising, but I do not like to ‘have to’ exercise — blogging’s like that sometimes — and like exercise (or any other somewhat beneficial thing, I love it. I don’t love it. I miss it. I don’t miss it. If you’re a blogger, you totally know what I am talking about.

So, here I am… and for the next 30 days I will be posting “thirty favourite things” from the last year… things that were big or important to me that I never really wrote about — some of the “life changing” or “significantly impacting things” from my 50th year.

I know, I know… I am going to be pretty much obnoxious concerning my fiftieth year. I have started a Bucket List…
I’m glad I have been able to do some things on my “bucket list.” The things I am going to share in the next thirty days aren’t necessarily “bucket list category” type things.

(Yes. I did see the movie. Yes… I don’t recommend it to everyone. Or anyone, really. But I did see it. And I’m pretty glad I did. But I am not recommending it.)

So, here’s one of the most recent things I was so glad I did during my fiftieth year — I was most honoured and privileged to make the wedding cake for two people I love — two families I love. Nathan and Larissa were married on Saturday, February 21st. And here is their cake:

wedding cake

Each tier was 2 layers… the cake was almond/butter/buttermilk and the filling was raspberry for some of the cake layers and ganache/bavarian for others. My husband blessed me by helping frost the layers… (the troweling of pools and decks has the side benefit of expertise in ~~troweling~~ frosting cakes. :o) And I was most blessed to have my friend, Rhonda, help me as well. (She even brought the Starbucks coffees — And, No., I did not get cup #280.)

All the “pearls” and strings were piped on and the roses and the little Groom and Bride were made from Fondant. I prepared those a couple of days before the wedding. The frosting was Buttercream. The cakes were set on a base of glass blocks which were lighted underneath. Isn’t that so cool?!?!? There was a 16″ – 14″ – 12″ – 10″ – 8″ and 6″ top cake and 3 – 14″ side cakes that looked just like these except that I didn’t (for obvious reasons) have them as part of the cake. Can you imagine?!?! I had prepared enough cake for nearly 600 people… and there were over 500 at the wedding. However, that number included babies and children of all ages. It was a beautiful day – inside and out. It was a beautiful covenent wedding — Happy Happy Happy day. Praise the Lord — He is only good.

Loved it. Can you tell?

#2 tomorrow.

Good morning, new year…

[thank you for the personal letters inquiring as to my lack of blogging… i love you and will keep writing, still]

I’m sitting in my husband’s office… it’s early and the sun is shining. I love this time of year – the sun shines at an angle such that it comes streaming in the south/east windows and casts an apricot/pink glow. I love that the days are growing longer a minute or so a day. I love that a whole new year looms large before us. I love that there’s hope and promise and potential. Potentiality… that’s what I love and that’s what I think I’ve forgotten for a few months now. Potentiality. A great big bunch of potentiality.

I haven’t felt like blogging. O, I mean, I have felt like blogging — I feel like it every day — but I haven’t felt like editing my thoughts or editing what goes into print here. That takes a different kind of thought — a different kind of energy. Every now and then I feel like just writing. And every now and then the thought hits me that I would like to write without walls. I’d like to talk plainly about so many things. But then I think it might seem that I am referring to some incident shared in confidence or that I am being too critical about things or whatever. Sometimes I’ll be in the midst of an event and I just want to write about it… from my perspective… not to say something to the others involved, but simply making observation. Amazingly, many times I will be in the midst of this or that event or activity and I’ll read a similar account in the paper or a magazine or book or whatever and I’ll consider writing about it — or at least commenting on it and then I stop. I stop bcz the similarity to my ‘real life’ situation is so parallel – and I consider what might be thought… Ack… so I don’t write about it — well, at least not here. At least not at the time. I write things in my head all day long. I think of things I wish I could say all day long.

I wish we weren’t all so quick to misjudge what we read or hear. We’re quick to jump to conclusions about things that are said…. assuming others have ulterior motives for teaching or saying whatever it is they’re saying. When, in reality, most often people are just making observations; they’re just communicating their thoughts, ideas or experiences. And bcz – though we don’t like to think so, we’re all pretty much the same, stories are often going to have a familiar ring to them… different women’s life experiences are going to be pretty similar. Different but similar. Seasons are seasons — each have similar characteristics.

We all have stories. We all have lives that should be journaled. Some public, some private. We all want to be recognized. To some degree. We all want to be loved, appreciated, cherished, validated, needed. By someone. Some, by lots of someone’s. And we all have something to say. Some ~~of us~~ want to say more in a more public manner than others do. Ironically, sometimes the more we want to be heard, the less we say.

I’ve been thinking about all this a lot lately… and, as is typical, surprise! I’ve been feeling like a: zero. But last night… I was wiping dust from underneath a tall cabinet. I was lying down on the floor to reach under the cabinet, and from there, the height and size the cabinet was significant. I was thinking: my life is just a ‘zero.’ And I was thinking (almost in protest, but probably in an attempt at self preservation): …but a ‘zero’ holds a place. A ‘zero’ next to another ‘zero’ has place. And even if there’s just a measly ‘one’ next to the ‘zero’ — the ‘zero’ has great significance. I was envisioning a zero next to… say… a 1 and 5 zeros.

I’ve been thinking about when I was 5. And all the years between then and now. I sometimes feel like I’m 5 still. I’ll write later about adding a ‘zero’ to. that. 5. For the next 81 days I’ll be thinking about that a lot.

more later. Happy new year.

life’s monuments

I woke up this morning with the sun beginning to paint the sky and I thought back to yesterday morning…

My first thought was: I did it! I did something I had been wanting to do – something I had planned to do ten years ago – but ten years ago I had a new baby, I had a new daughter in law and lots of other things going on. But I still had this goal – this “thing to do!” in my life. Now, for many, this wasn’t that momentous a goal – it wasn’t something of a ‘big deal’ to them and, over the years, some have laughed when I shared this goal of mine. I don’t know if it was bcz they saw me a I am now? Or as they think I am now or what? I don’t know. They didn’t know me when I was younger… didn’t know I loved to tap dance, I loved trampoline and tennis and swimming, I was cheerleader, I taught preschool, I was a cook… and on and on. So, lots of my life in the last thirty years has been defined, in large measure, by what I used to be.

It’s that way now. Now, I sit with women who are pregnant or have new babies and I join in their conversations…and their sentences begin, and are punctuated with, “I am…” — but mine begin and are punctuated with, “I used to…”

I used to do a lot of things and so, I guess that’s why I have been taking a hard look at my “bucket list” over the last few years. Instead of a new list — a list of stuff I hope to accomplish before I die, I’ve sort of been considering all the stuff I’ve done and then have been thinking: well, okay… so all that happened; what do I want to be sure and do, see or say in my lifetime. Well, one of those things was this goal… this goal to climb Mt. Pilchuck. I know I’m not talking about a big deal for many – but for me it was a big deal – a big deal bcz I didn’t even know what it actually entailed, it just looked hard. I look out my livingroom window and see this mountain – and from here, seeing that 5324′ peak has been such an amazing site – and I have often thought: I’m going to climb up there.

Well… I did it! And now, as I look out this morning, I see that peak and say: Thank you, Lord, I did it!

pamela at the mt. pilchuck summit

look ma, no hands!!

pamela at the mt. pilchuck summit

from the look out tower at the summit – 5324′ :o)

wes and pamela at the mt. pilchuck summit 92608

on our way back down the mountain

Here’s a photo of Mt. Pilchuck from a distance.

No Greater Joy

I suppose I’m still in my travels down the melancholy memory lane. I don’t know if the Autumn season has brought all this on or not — I don’t know if the realization of my own life-season of autumn has brought all this on. Whatever the case, I’m still strolling among falling leaves.
To God be the glory… Great things He has done.

samuel baptism

Wes baptized Samuel and three more of our children on the first of this month. I truly know no greater joy than that our children walk in Truth — and no greater sorrow when they do not. I know lots of parents have high aspirations for their children — they want their children do do more, know more, be more than they are/were and they have lofty goals for their children’s future – their future accomplishments, fame and fortune. And… I suppose I have a measure of hope and desire for each of our children – but I suppose that, in reality, I only truly hope one thing for them and will trust the Lord to finish His work — and that is that my children know and walk with the Lord. Whatever else they know, whatever else they do will only be of any lasting value if it’s in the will of the Lord.

My husband’s birthday was yesterday and of all the gifts he could have wished, he was thankful for his children and so grateful to God for those who walk in Truth. We sat for a long time in Starbucks yesterday morning… reminiscing, thinking, thanking, planning. We had to leave long before our reminiscing finished.

My father’s birthday would have been today… I’m remembering a lot of things today. One year ago today, my husband had a heart attack. I never loved him so much as that day. I love him more today. If there are no tomorrows, I’m sure glad for today.

Have I done a-n-y-thing… really?

Have you ever asked that question? Have you ever been in a valley and wondered what in the world you’ve accomplished in life – or if the things you’ve done have any lasting value?

As I was praying and going to sleep the other night, I asked the LORD about the value of time and accomplishments to this point in my life. I wondered: have I done anything — really?

Well, interestingly enough — and I don’t consider it a fluke by any means — my busy-as-a-bee, Hannah, was ordering up our storage closet in the attic and she came across many ‘treasures’ and, yes, other things, too. Among the ‘treasures’ she set out in the hallway for me to look through were several boxes of photographs, letters, cards, artwork, journals and an old Bible. Contained in the boxes were answers to my ponderings.

Some of those boxes hadn’t been opened in ten years. As Naomi tried on my wedding dress and as beautiful Kathryn tried on my veil, I marveled that I began making that dress 31 years ago and, thus, sort of began my journey to home & family at that time, too. I marveled that the little dress holds such fascination each time a little girl of mine sees it and then I know the next question will be if it can be tried on and have a picture taken. My bridal bouquet – though not properly dried, still looks sweet to me.

In those boxes were piles of childrens’ papers, photos of hundreds of days gone by, awards, a plaster of paris handprint mold of a hand of a three year old — that two year old is now twenty-nine and has children of his own. In those boxes were letters and cards commemorating birthdays, mother’s days, births of children, gifts given and many more “accomplishments.” There were childrens’ clothes and little gifts I couldn’t part with.

In the photos I saw my younger self… at the beach with different children… at home celebrating different milestones, birthdays, newborn’s and children at play. There were photos of funny faces and skinned noses and knees… photos of parents the age I am now. I looked carefully at the background of some of the photos: the homes we’ve lived in and the decorations – both familiar and forgotten. I smiled at the messes in some and marveled at the order in many. I miss some of the furnishings, blankets and flowers I see in the photos. I realized I had made up the charts and schedules I saw on walls in the photos, and I sewed most of the dresses on the little girls and many of the curtains, valances, aprons, tablecloths and placemats… I nursed and diapered and bathed the babies, watered the plants, arranged and rearranged the furniture, decorated the cakes and pushed the swings I saw in the photos.

I read journal accounts and prayers for the children I saw in the photographs and could almost hear their little voices as I sat in the hallway yesterday looking at all the memories I held in my lap. Hundreds of photos sparked many more memories. They’ve stayed with me through the night and into this day…

I wondered how all that could have been accomplished in such a short time — for it really doesn’t seem possible that this much time has passed already. But it has passed and it has passed so quickly. In just a very short time, life’s been going by.

I came across a little bag in a plastic bag. On the bag was written: “John & Laurie’s wedding (and in all caps) SAVE (underlined).” Curious, I opened the little bag and found a couple of imprinted napkins: John and Laurie – June 30, 1990; also in the bag was a (used) plate and fork from the wedding cake; a receipt from the Tux Shop; the little box the tuxedo shirt cuff-links came in, and there were several little gold rings that were tied in the teal ribbon around the tulle sachets of birdseed — I know this bcz one of the circles of tulle was still completely intact with the birdseed and little gold rings and another wasn’t. That boy was so sentimental – he saved everything. And yesterday, I was so glad I had saved some of his “everything” when he moved away from home when he got married ten years ago.

Well, that precious couple… the John and Laurie whose wedding memories I held in my hands yesterday… have remained such a blessing to me, in June I had the unbelievable privilege of assisting John helping Laurie in the birth of their 6th child (the midwife didn’t arrive until quite awhile after the birth). That’s a story for another day — I realize I haven’t written about that marvelous event (and so many more things).

Anyway, to close for today and leave some for tomorrow… I guess the LORD answered my question — and it sure was in a gentle way.

to mothers who got their hands dirty.

Today I’d like to acknowledge the mothers who came before me… mothers who worked long before days dawned and long after suns set — women who, without conveniences, running water, power and supplies, cared for their families – putting them before themselves and tenaciously pressed on through the years of their lives. It does not escape me that life for women in many places in the world live such a life today.

I feel as though I cannot personally relate – I have photos in my possession and have heard numerous stories my children have told me about living conditions in places in Mexico & Africa… I’ve listened to Christian sisters share specifics in testimonies of daily life in those and other ‘foreign lands’ and the effort mothers expend to simply survive from day to day. Still, I’ve not been able to sincerely relate — though I’ve sincerely attempted to grasp the reality of life for women the world over. I say women… for the simple fact that that’s who I’m relating to. Stories of men and their lives and work the world over would be another angle to which I cannot relate.

My mother tells me stories of my grandmother and her methods of cleaning, cooking, sewing, making soap, heating kettles, boiling water and doing laundry in large pots, hanging clothes by necessity – not choice – and a myriad of other things she did for her family. Her story is unrecorded… as are the stories of the lives of most all mothers the world over… mothers who got their hands dirty. Mothers who really worked hard – or mothers who really worked really hard.

In addition to the chicken we have for eggs, we’ve been raising chickens — meat birds — raising them for food. There’s been one purpose for them. Week after week they’ve been growing. We after week we’ve been taking care of them. Saturday that part of the deal ended — they lived up to their end of the bargain.

Friends of ours graciously taught us how to handle the chickens when they lived up to their end of the deal. As I stood there, a flood of emotion washed over me – a strange mix of sadness, remorse and nausea. Then, I thought of the mothers who’ve gone before me… mothers who did whatever it took to put nutritious food on the table for their families. I thought of the mothers who didn’t have the butchering conveniences I had before me, nor the running water for the process.

Now, I wasn’t alone in this whole process, for a couple of our boys were tackling the job with sincere eagerness to do well and Wes was right there working alongside them. I’m glad our friend prayed before we began the process — I really had a terribly hard time with the initial ‘taking of a life’ and watching the helpless animal struggle for a moment. The dipping in boiling water was not as challenging and the ‘defeathering’ was even less so. Then came the moment for which I had not been prepared. You know those packets with the “giblets” in them – the neat little packages you remove from the store bought chicken or turkey? Well, there was not a neat little baggie or paper sacklet for the most inward parts of each chicken. This was clearly a challenge to my sensibilities. By the third one, I realized that this was a job that just plain needed to be done.

And then that thought came to me, once again, that mothers who have gone before me had done this innumerable times. I thought about that for quite a few moments. I smiled at the thought that I had now crossed into a new territory for myself. It was another of those accomplishments that made me a kindred spirit to those mothers who’ve gone before me… mothers who got their hands dirty.

Today is the first day…

Yes, today is the first day of my 50th year. And, as I alluded yesterday, I am most surprised I lived long enough to blog that line. Now, for those who do not know me personally or for those who do, my comments yesterday might be surprising. I mean, there is not really anything outwardly that would really indicate illness. Sure, twenty unnecessary pounds; sure, gray hair; sure, appearance of age and lack of aggressive physical fitness. But, for the most part, I just look my age — so no real indication of why in the world I never thought I’d be this age.

Well, I’ll tell you. As I have battled depression of sorts, and occasional hopelessness, regret and a host of other negatives through the years, it’s been a constant vigil to keep those thoughts at bay – to take captive those thoughts that exalt themselves against the Truth of God. I determine to be joyful; I determine to be optimistic — to press on, to look for joy, to see the King in all things.

Even in those things I write about that are not making the mark or that are falling short – I still look for the Lord in those situations. It may not seem like it… it may not seem loving to write about the compromises in the church today, it may not seem loving to point out church teachings and fallacies that are inconsistent with the Word of God. And, believe me, when I say joyful, I’m not meaning lighthearted, for I am anything but lighthearted about the atrocities of compromises in the church, in homes and Christian families. But I am joyful in Jesus – because I see all of these terrible things must mean one thing: the enemy is fighting the families — fighting the church and therefore fighting against God. And my joy comes from knowing Christ is and has the Victory. He is our peace.

So today’s the first day of my fiftieth year.

Wes took me on a morning date to Starbucks – to get a coffee, to talk, to reminisce and to celebrate the gift of one more year. Together. I loved it. I love him.

Here’s what was on my cup for this day:

The Way I See It #280

You can learn a lot more from listening than you can from talking. Find someone with whom you don’t agree in the slightest and ask them to explain themselves at length. Then take a seat, shut your mouth, and don’t argue back. It’s physically impossible to listen with your mouth open.
John Moe
Radio host and author of Conservatize Me.

So, on this, the first day of my fiftieth year, I want to begin by listening more. More and better. I want to listen at length — I want to listen at length to explanations at length. Well, except to gossip. I want to resolve to never listen to gossip. But other than that… I want to be characterized as a woman who listens at length.

Ah… the mail’s here… Birthday cards, birthday cards!! :o)