Death is not a Disease

In this world nothing is certain but death and taxes.

 

This quote has been contributed to Benjamin Franklin, Mark Twain, Daniel Defoe, and plethora of other famous people. All people who were much wiser than almost anyone living today.

 

Recently on a trip out to my parents, as we passed the small cemetery on the way to their house, Ethan commented, “When I die, I’ll get it a stone, and it will say E-T-H-A-N.” Even my three-year-old is smarter than most people today…

 

Sometimes it can be a little unnerving to have a conversation about death with my kids, but death is a part of living. Especially as a Christian. The fact that Christ died is pivotal to our faith and hope (followed, of course, by His resurrection). And while they know about Covid, masks, etc. the obsession of the media with death is not a part of their world. However, they have had a great deal of death in their young lives this past year: great-grandfather, great aunt, and grandfather. So, we have had conversations about death. Positive conversations about Christ, and Heaven, and hope. Because death is a part of life.

 

Now if we didn’t know before 2020, we certainly know now that so-called journalists In America have no interest in telling the truth, or even simply reporting information. Instead, they all want to manipulate and terrify. Hence, they focus on death and scaring people into being afraid of getting sick. Because no one wants to die. So, let’s allude people into thinking they can somehow avoid it.

 

In searching for other things on the internet recently, I came across a couple of ludicrous articles. Here are a few quotes:

 

“Before it (Covid-19) came along, there was a reason to be hopeful about U.S. death trends. The nation’s overall mortality rate fell a bit in 2019…”

 

“The more steps people walked, the lower their risk of dying was…”

 

“Research has shown that people who sat for eight or more hours every day had a 59% increased risk of death that those sitting less than four hours per day…”

 

So, apparently, in 2019 some people who should have died managed not to die, thereby bringing down the mortality rate in the U.S. And if it hadn’t been for Covid, even more people could have beat out death in 2020. I guess by walking more. Because if you walk a lot, you decrease your risk of dying. And since I certainly sit less than four hours a day, I guess I’m going to live forever.

 

Really?

 

Let’s get our facts straight. Death is not a disease. It’s not something you “catch”. You can’t be vaccinated against it. And you can't exercise or eat healthy your way out of it. It’s inevitable. You will die.So the question is not if you will die or not…the question is where will you go after you die?

This Week

It would seem 2021 has started slowly, but here we are already nearing the end of January. Perhaps it’s simply because work has been a bit slow for me, something that hasn’t happened for months. I should probably enjoy the reprieve. I doubt it will last long.

 

And things have been mostly normal around our house as well, for which I am grateful. I’m good with no sudden excitement, although I don’t mind thing outside of our normal schedule. On Tuesday, Emry and Ethan had a couple of little friends over for the evening so their parents could have a date night. This visit reminded me of the angst I often experienced as a girl when friends came over and didn’t want to play what I wanted to play. Sometimes it’s funny how long forgotten feelings can come rushing back as if they happened only yesterday.

 

It dawned on me Wednesday when I told Emry the date for her math page that it was Inauguration Day, a fact I stated aloud.

 

“Mama, is that the day you wear green?” she asked, thinking of St. Patrick’s Day.

 

“No, Emry,” I replied. “It’s the day you wear black.”

 

Thankfully, she didn’t pursue that response.

 

And Emry and I both practiced quite a bit for her first on-stage dress rehearsal: me with hair and make-up and Emry her dance piece. I suppose I should be grateful Emry finds such huge delight in make-up because then she’ll also sit still as I wrestle her unruly hair into a bun. But all I see is dollar signs and hurt feelings during her teenage years when make-up will be a “necessity”. Still, it all paid off. She looked adorable as she marched out the door in her Minnie Mouse dance attire, hair and make-up complete (aside from lipstick which we applied later). She was not at all worried about the rehearsal, quite excited that she was going to be on stage! 

 

Unfortunately, we couldn’t go inside and watch her and the live feed was set up at quite a distance, but from what I could see she did really well…and remembered her right from her left. As the other mothers and I waited in the lobby after the dance was over, the girls came giggling down the hall.

 

“Well, no tears!” one mother said.

 

My thoughts exactly.

 

Parenting fail: I didn’t get a picture of her before the rehearsal! And she had pulled out the bun and wiped off the lipstick soon after. So, this is the best one I have, complete with ridiculous masks. She’s the back middle.

Being a Dance Mom

Back in fall when enrolling Emry in her dance class, we had the opportunity to allow her to join the “b-Boppers” group, a young dance team to get the littlest girls interested in furthering their skills. Usually this little team would take a great deal of dedication since they represent the studio at parades, half-time shows, etc. But with Covid, those sorts of things weren’t going to happen. The cost wasn’t too great a difference from regular class, especially as she would get nearly another half-hour of instruction a week plus a couple more weeks per session. The instructor I really like was in charge of her class, and she would be working Emry (and the other girls) hard to fine-tune the things they were learning. All told, it was an opportunity we felt would benefit Emry. And it has. I guess I just didn’t know how much it would demand of me.

 

First, of course, is getting Emry to practice. Honestly, that isn’t usually difficult. She’s happy to pull out my laptop and run through her routine several times every other day or so, especially before a performance. (And is she ever psyched to be allowed on a real stage this weekend for her first dress rehearsal!) It’s helped greatly that her instructor (Miss Kelsey) chose a song she loves – Minnie’s Bow-tique.I can’t complain about that part at all.

 

The costume is also cute and she really likes. But the things that go with it, well…

 

From pictures I’m sure you have seen that Emry’s hair is…let’s say unruly. It curls, it doesn’t part in any precise location, and it seems to grow in at random lengths so she has natural side bangs that some girls might envy. All of this adds up to being very difficult to put in almost any hairstyle, especially a bun. Which is exactly how she must wear it, of course: a low bun with a left-side part. At least we have one thing going for us: if you can actually find it, her natural part is on the left. With a great deal of water, I have figured out how to get that done. But the bobby pins are about to be my undoing and I should probably get another can of hairspray to be on the safe side. It’s going to take a lotof it to get all those curls and random lengths to lay down for an hour.  I’m really hoping the headband Minnie ears will help!

 

And if the bun wasn’t hard enough, there’s the make-up. Earlier last year my abhorrence of youtube finally dawned on me: why do I need to watch a video when I can read the instructions or story three times as fast? What a waste of time! But I’m going to need youtube for this one. If you know me at all well, you know I don’t wear makeup. And I have a very elementary idea of how to apply it. In fact, we had to go out and buy the red lipstick, grey tones eye shadow, and pink blush. Emry is beyond delighted, while I am simply hoping she won’t turn out looking like a clown. 

So we will practice. She will practice her dance. I will practice the hair and make up. Perhaps by the time competition arrives in April and her final performance in May, we will both have it down. But more likely she will be fine…and I will need more lessons! 

My Mom

Over the past fifteen years, I’ve probably posted a lengthy write-up on my mom on a yearly basis. Sometimes twice a year. I’m guessing I’ve written things even three or four times a year. Because there’s always something more to say about my mom. For nearly every day of my life I wonder how she did it!

 

Honestly, my mom made her life as a mom look effortless. My friend Allyson will say the same thing about her mom, and yet we both agree as mothers ourselves that it could not possibly have been that way. (Although Allyson also makes motherhood look effortless, so after I wonder how my mom did it I then wonder how Allyson does it…) Perhaps it’s a good thing they made it look so effortless: then we actually wanted to grow up and be moms ourselves. If we had known how hard it would be, we wouldn’t have signed up for it!

 

Mom gave birth to nine children, one a whopping twelve pounds at birth! Mom homeschooled all of us, most of us for the entire twelve years of our education. And all but two of us have a bachelors or associates degree. Mom packed up and moved us around the country twelve times, not counting the few times she moved before any of us were born. Most of the houses she lived in were not her own, yet she made them our home for the few years we were there. She brushed the hair of six daughters for years, sewed our clothes, made the meals we so often complained about, took us to more activities than we can remember, and was often a single mom as my dad was traveling for work. And I could keep going…

 

Like all wonderful moms, my mom has now graduated to being a grandma. I’m not sure how she would compare the two jobs, but she goes at being a grandma like she went at being a mom: effortless success. She spends time with the kids, learns to know them better than she knows herself, teaches them things, disciplines them when necessary, and generally just puts up with everything they are as kids. And my kids think the world of her. In fact, they can’t wait to celebrate her birthday with her on Saturday.

 

Because today is my mom’s birthday. And I think I can honestly say I am more grateful for her life than for anyone else’s on earth. Truly, where would I be without her?

 

Making “surprise cookies” with Emry and Ethan this Christmas.

My Kids as Late

With the holidays upon us, it’s been a little while since I’ve told stories of what my three little rascals have been up to. Because some days I honestly wish there was such a thing as a dull moment!

 

Emry:

 

She is currently being my little entrepreneur – a trait I certainly want to encourage. One day before the holidays, the weather was quite decent so she and Ethan were outside playing while Ellyson napped. I was in the dining room working when Emry and Ethan dashed in, breathlessly asking me for a hammer and nails. When I asked why they needed those items, Emry informed me they were going to use them on sticks to build…and she presented me with her design. She had carefully drawn a balance beam she wished to build. Not wanting to entirely burst her bubble, I managed to explain how sticks were not going to achieve that design but we could find something to rig up (which we did with some boards and cement blocks). But I also showed her a picture I had on Pinterest where I keep backyard ideas for the day when we will have our own home:

 

She may have looked at the picture for all of twenty seconds before she grabbed Ethan, dashed off to his room, and I then heard them bang out the front door. I went back to work as five or ten minutes passed. Then she came flying back in.

 

“Mama! Come see!”

 

I got up and followed her out to the front patio. She and Ethan had his wooden blocks scattered everywhere and she had built this:

 

 

The landscape architects and park designers I work for were quite impressed!

 

But since landscape architecture is a career that will take years to arrive upon, Emry has meanwhile decided a hot chocolate stand is a good stepping stone. Or, thanks to big tippers like her grandfather, she can at least start saving for college!

 

 

Ethan:

 

We don’t watch the news in our house and we don’t really listen to it either, except the things Ed likes to listen to, or things he and I might say to one another. Hardly things one would think a three-year-old would pay attention to. And yet sometimes it seems they soak in the culture from the air they breathe.

 

One day in December we were driving out to my parents, probably listening to Christmas music which is probably why the subject of a white Christmas came up. While Emry understood the reference to mean a snowy Christmas as she then said something about snow, Ethan apparently had no clue. For when Ed teased me that I am always dreaming of a white Christmas and I readily agreed that I heartily wanted a white Christmas, Ethan piped up:

 

“But, Mama? How about a black Christmas?”

 

So, perhaps hoping that my son will steer clear of a career in politics, we included a tool set on his Christmas list. Actually, we included it because he is forever wanting to get Ed’s tools out and fix just about anything that looks or could potentially become broken. Now that he has his own tool set, though, there aren’t enough things in the world to fix!

 

 

Ellyson:

 

And Elly? Well, she just gets cuter by the day!

My Fourth Sister: Grace

Today is my sister Grace’s 31^stbirthday. And though she may not think so, how young she is!

 

Over a year ago, Grace got married. I wanted to blog about it. Nearly everyday that week, I would go to bed thinking about how to write a post honoring Grace on her wedding day. But then I would start crying. And then I couldn’t think straight. And then I would decide I just couldn’t do it. So, I never have.

 

And now you’re probably thinking: why were you crying over Grace’s marriage? I mean, aside from the fact that you have turned into your mother and cry at the end of Pollyannaso you may as well cry at weddings, too. But I wasn’t even at the wedding. And that is why I was crying.

 

Grace has spent the last many years of her life in Kenya, aside from a couple of trips home. My mom says if you saw her there, you would know it is where God created her to be and serve. Which is a comfort, but doesn’t make the fact that she’s nearly half way around the world easy. Within those years, she met a young man. A Kenyan. They started courting. They received my parents blessing to marry. So, when Grace returned to Kenya the last time now a year-and-a-half ago, it was to marry Victor. And who knows when she will ever return home on another visit.

 

But while the thought of rarely seeing Grace (or even never seeing Grace) again on earth is not something I contemplate on long, at the time of wedding in September 2019, I was crying because I couldn’t be there. My parents were there. My sisters Sally and Jenny were able to go. Even my sister Katey managed to get her husband (or other help) to care for her boys so she could go. But I couldn’t go. Ed couldn’t get off from work. I couldn’t leave Emry or Ethan. And since those first two items were true, thinking about how to scrounge up the money didn’t need to be considered. I couldn’t go. Period. End of story. Moving on.

 

But it doesn’t mean I didn’t want to be there. Oh, how I wanted to be there. Even though I have little to no desire to ever see the African continent or experience anything that has to do with it, I wanted to be there. I wanted to help her get ready, and wait hours until the wedding actually started (in Kenya no one rushes to do anything and absolutely nothingstarts on time), and understand very little of what was going on. I wanted to sweat in my dress,  be touched by all the children who have never seen a white person in their life, and see a glimpse of the place Grace now calls home. And since I couldn’t do any of that, I did the next best thing. I rejoiced with her from a very long distance…and I cried.

 

Today Grace is 31 years old. It’s been along time since I awoke one morning, found out I had a new sister, dressed in my favorite plaid skirt and red Scottie dog sweater, and happily went to school to tell everyone I met I had a new sister. But I am just as proud of that sister today as I was then. I just often wish she lived a lot closer.

 

Grace and her husband, Victor

7 Months!!!

Today little Ellyson is seven months old! And it seems so much has happened between six months and seven. For one, she is now sporting two teeth – the bottom front ones. She is rolling over quite well and wiggling her way over to the things she wants, although she far prefers to be left in a seated position surrounded by toys so she needn’t go anywhere at all. She loves to play peek-a-boo, adores bath time, lights up when she hears music, and can’t wait to be in the midst of Emry and Ethan’s games (which is not at all a safe place to be).

 

She is weighing in at over fourteen pounds and twenty-six inches in length (by far outpacing both siblings when they were here age). She doesn’t have as much hair as either of them did, although I am now happy to say her hair is growing even if it is slow. She loves to smile, has quite the belly laugh when tickled on her chest or bottom of her feet, and she fills me with joy no matter how tired I am since sleeping at night is not a foregone conclusion with her. She’s a good eater of all the things she has tried, not completely pushing anything aside although she could live without bananas. But she also doesn’t have a favorite food, except she really enjoyed the bites of pancake with syrup on them one morning for breakfast!

 

And even though Ethan hates to hear her cry, she sometimes disturbs Emry’s well-laid plans, and she seems to think I don’t need to sleep; we all love our little Ellyson and wouldn’t want to be without her!

7 Months!!!

 

With Sock Monkey

 

Because you can’t have a photo session without Emry and Ethan…

2021 Reading Goal

The last several years I have set myself a reading goal. Some years I have been very brave. After all, over 700 pages of tiny-print War Between the States history is a bit intimidating to even the most avid reader. Some years I have just tried to have some fun. And, most recently, I have tried to be more honest about the fact that I don’t have as much time to read and need to be realistic. But I still like to set a goal…perhaps, because, it’s about the only year-long goal that is achievable for me.

 

This year I have been exceptionally realistic. I often think it is Ellyson that has proven to be a handful of a child and edged in on what little reading time I have. The truth is that while she does through us parenting curveballs, it’s really the fact that I now have three kids instead of two that eats of the time I use to read in (and sleep in, and shower in, and eat in, etc.). So, I have gone with a goal that should be readily achievable: read one book with a title that begins with each letter of the alphabet.

 

For instance, for “A” I could read A Study in Scarletby Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. For “B” it could be Bradyby Jean Fritz. And so on. Several years ago my goal was to read twobooks for each letter, which I accomplished. It was fun to find books for some of the letters and I read a few things on my list that had been there for years simply because of the letter their title started with. So, I thought it would be fun to repeat the goal, only with lesson titles. Twenty-six is a very easy number to reach…but fifty-two might not happen.

 

To be honest, I’m not off to a brilliant start. As the year closed, I pulled from my shelf a book Netflix had just made into a movie. As usual, the book is much better. In fact, I had forgotten how good it is, and since it is the first in a series, well… The unfortunate thing is that each title starts with a “C”. So while I have now crossed “C” off my list, I will be able to cross it off four more time, making my reading count for the year at least thirty.

And if some of my favorite authors come out with new titles that start with letters I’ve already checked off (and they will since I already know several of the new ones coming out), then my list will just get longer. But that’s okay. I’m an over achiever. At least when it comes to reading books.

Fifteen Years Ago

Fifteen years ago today in what seems the very long-ago year of 2006, I posted my first blog-post. I recall it being a list of reasons as to why I was starting a blog, so I went back to look at it and see where the past fifteen years has taken me. For, to be honest, I often wonder why I continue to keep a blog. For I’m often behind, back-dating posts written in my head as I fall asleep and finally find time to actually write. It’s not as if I have a wealth of readers. I don’t post recipes, or DIYs, or anything people find to copy. So, why do I keep posting?

 

Fifteen years ago seems like a different life. I decided to post a blog in order to join the millennial generation I was born into and prove I wasn’t that old. (Oh to be 25 again!!!!) Because a friend of mine (whom I actually babysat ages ago and is today a college professor) urged me to. Pre-don’t-need-a-college-ID-to-have-Facebook (do you remember those days?), it sas a way for me to keep people up with what I was doing – not that I now have or ever will have Facebook. I thought it was a good way, in the midst of my hours of scribbling, to keep an actual journal I could look back on. I wanted to do more contemplating and thinking about what the Lord was doing in my life. (If I thought such time was scarce then, I can barely find five minutes now…and I really should be doing something in those five minutes!). And I wanted to glorify God. 

 

I find it a bit odd that most of those reasons ring as true today as they did then. Although some have changed. For one, I have no time to write at all now and I sorely miss it, so keeping a blog is my few moments of practice. Within those moments, I usually am able to think about things just a little. And now it’s a chance for me to write about my kids. Not because anyone is terribly interested in them, or because they are the epitome of their generation, or because they’re smart or cute. They’re just kids growing up in a very difficult world (although, thankfully, they don’t yet realize that). But one day when I am old and can’t remember a thing or  amlong gone, perhaps they can look back and laugh at the things they did as kids, or the fun we had as a family, or the difficult times God saw us through that they may not have even known about. And, honestly, I want to remember those times, too.

 

Because if fifteen years has taught me anything, it’s that we forget. Sometimes we think forgetting is great. Difficult times are moments we would rather not remember. Although those are the times when we most see God at work and when we learn the lessons that will see us through more times to come. On the flip side, amazing things happen that we think we’ll never forget. But we do. Which is almost as bad because joyful memories also remind us of how great our God is. 

 

2020 has been a hard year. Right now, 2021 looks like it will be even worse. It’s bleak, and sometimes I think that’s because we have forgotten. We have forgotten how to get through hard times. And we have forgotten that there are joyful times. And we certainly haven’t learned from either. 

And, so, I’m going to keep blogging. Even if very few read it. Even if what I write is of little importance to the world at large. Even though it takes up time when I should be folding the laundry. Because I need to remember. I need to see God at work through the bad and the good. And I need my kids to one day see these things, too, so they can know God is faithful in a world that forgets.