Some days you just need to fold yourself into a cute little basket and sit with your thoughts for a while.
But seriously. What DO little people think about sometimes? Earlier this week, I was talking to my 6 yr old grandson about a lamp that was given to his mom. The lamp belonged to his Gigi who had passed away recently. He just couldn't understand why she forgot to give it to his mom before she "left". He later told his mom "I guess she was excited to go to a very special place!" Sweet boy. I can just imagine what he must be thinking. Gigi died and left suddenly, no doubt very excited to get to her special place that she didn't have time to give away her stuff. Oh man. Out of the mouths and minds of babes. But for real. Where's my basket? Because I have some thoughts I want to sit with for a while. #ThursdayThoughts #grief #heaven #children #outofthemouthsofbabes #basketsforalloccasions
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When I was a freshmen in high school, an extracurricular club decided to sell carnations as a fundraiser. The carnations were sold in three colors...red, pink, and white.
The red carnations were for those in "long-term committed" relationships and vowed to stay together forever...or at least until the end of month. If you received a pink carnation, it meant someone was crushing on you...which could go one of two ways. White carnations...well, you were liked. But not "liked" like. Just liked. Here's how it worked. Orders were placed early. Red carnations were $3. Pink carnations were $2. White carnations were $1. Recipient instructions were given and unless you were receiving red carnations, pink and white carnations were generally given anonymously. Which meant you were left wondering the inevitable question of "Who likes me?!" And to make this blessed event even more special, flowers were distributed during break-time. So EVERYONE witnessed this exchange of red, pink, and white carnations. I received a single white carnation. At least I was liked. I was just happy to receive a carnation. Because not everyone received one. Thank goodness the break lasted just a short time. Flowers were shoved into lockers and replaced with textbooks and binders, thus ending another painful high school/life experience. If you are suddenly reliving those awkward high-school days with flashbacks, I apologize. But it is Valentine's Day. Today, you may not receive the flowers you want AND deserve. Do yourself a favor and buy some flowers. Surprise someone anonymously. Or treat your self. Because you are loved. #valentines #highschoolmemories #flowers #treatyourself #youareloved It's funny how a picture can transport you back in time. I remember this day like it was yesterday. My grandma had scolded me for taking her picture. She didn't have her hair done. She wasn't wearing her glasses. She didn't look her best. But like any good granddaughter, I took her picture anyway. And I'm glad I did. It's one of my favorite pictures. Her eyesight had failed her and it was difficult for her to see but that never stopped her from doing what she loved to do. This is the grandma who gave me a loaf of cinnamon raisin bread for my birthday one year. This is the grandma who beat breast cancer. This is the grandma who lived in the tiniest of houses and yet made space for all her kids, spouses, and grandchildren for family dinners. No chair, no problem... we just sat on the floor. This is the grandma who faithfully watched her afternoon soaps, while perched from an ottoman just inches from the TV due to her limited eyesight. (And don't even bother trying to visit with her if her shows were on. ) This is the grandma who loved genealogy, card games, cribbage, lemon drops, rhubarb pie, fresh cut flowers, crossword puzzles, kitchen table visits, and family. So many memories of years gone by. I miss those years. I miss family. But oh, the memories....I cherish them all. #grandparents #family #memories #ThrowbackThursday #grandmalife Do you remember childhood birthday gifts from grandparents? My maternal grandma had 20 grandkids and lived on a very fixed income. Therefore, birthday gifts from Grandma Shadduck rarely, if ever, happened.
And if it did happen, it was a special gift worth remembering ... even decades later. While I don't recall which birthday I was celebrating, I do remember my surprise and excitement in opening up my very own loaf of cinnamon raisin bread! That loaf of bread, purchased from a small grocery store, with funds that supported a grandma's fixed income, was the sweetest gift ever. (No pun intended!) It was a true gift of love. Last week, we celebrated the birthday of one of our grandsons, and it seemed only fitting that he would receive a box of pop-tart bites - his favorite. He was surprised and excitedly announced ... "This is a silly gift!" But I hope, years from now, when he celebrates his own grandchildren's birthdays, he will remember the year he received a box of pop-tart bites and realize it was a true gift of love. Written in memory of my dad who is celebrating another birthday in Heaven! #Mondaymemories #birthdaycelebrations #giftsoflove #happybirthdaydad Circa 1980 - I still remember the soft grey shirt and the rock necklace that I wore. I remember feathering my hair the night before and hoping every strand would stay in place for yearbook pictures the next day. I remember the plastic framed glasses. But that's about all I remember about this girl who I used to be.
I stare at her, at me, and I try to remember my 15 year old self. I wish I can remember a little more about who I was. What things did I think about? What were my dreams and wishes? What were my worries and fears? Time has a strange way of erasing from my memory the girl I was back then. But maybe that's not entirely a bad thing. This year is my 40th class reunion, and though our graduating class was small, name tags are not out of the question (iykyk ). We are not the same people we were back then. Life has a way of changing us into the individuals we are today. And that's not an entirely bad thing. #ThrowbackThursday #whosthatgirl #yearbookphoto #80snostalgia #nametagplease #ClassOf83 #kansasgirl #thatwasthenthisisnow I read this quote recently and I thought it to be so true. "Grief is not going anywhere, so keep on swimming!"
But what if you can't swim? Or in my case, what if you're a poor swimmer who now requires nose plugs, ear plugs, and goggles just to go under water in a 5 ft pool? I've never been an athletic swimmer. I can swim when and where I need to but to be honest, I'd rather just lounge in a floatie and occasionally kick my feet and paddle my arms to get where I'm going. Can you relate? Swimming is hard work. It's exhausting. Even for the most experienced swimmer. And grief is hard work. It, too, is exhausting. Even for the experienced griever. But you've got to keep swimming. And if you can't swim, then get the biggest, best, floatie you can find, and keep on paddling. And know, while grief never leaves you and some days the waves are rough, calmer waters await. #griefjourney #keeponswimming #keeponfloating Whatever is happening in life, take a moment and clean the kitchen sink. I mean, really clean it. Use a scrubby, a little bit of elbow grease, and an appropriate cleanser in order to rid the sink of coffee stains, food splatters, and water drops. And then, wipe it down . (Don't skip this step!) Using a worn kitchen towel, dry every part of the sink and polish the fixtures with a soft cloth until they shine.
And then... Step back and take a deep breath. For just a few moments, be ok with knowing nothing else matters except for the simple task of cleaning and appreciating a spotless kitchen sink. And when you are ready, take another deep breath, turn off the lights, and shut the door. Tomorrow is a new day. A new chapter of life awaits. When you return, know that a clean spotless kitchen sink will greet you, settling your soul and giving you the strength to tackle whatever life throws at you. And when life gets tough or hard or sad, just clean the kitchen sink. #acleansinkisahappysink #lifelessons #grief #shinysink #tasks #justbreathe
Years ago, when I was pregnant with one of my girls, I remember having a conversation with my grandma regarding an induction process for the birth plan. She emphatically told me, "That baby will come when it's good and ready."
She was right, but it still didn't make the waiting any easier. Labor is hard work. Watching the clock, holding a hand, counting out breaths, waiting, waiting, waiting until the blessed event happens. When my precious mom (and most recently my wonderful mother-in-law) was dying, we sat by her side and watched the clock and held her hand and counted her breaths and waited, waited, waited until the blessed event happened…laboring her way into heaven. Giving birth to new life is hard work. No matter if the new life is that of a tiny baby just beginning its life on earth or that of a person who has lived life on earth and is preparing for new birth in heaven. And everyone’s labor experience is different. Some people labor quickly while others linger for days. Some seem to labor effortlessly and for others, the labor is a struggle with each breath. It is hard work . But oh, how sweet the rewards of labor. #heavenawaits #laboranddelivery #deathandlife #heaven Waiting rooms welcome difficult conversations one moment and casual conversations the next. And when no words are said, there's the hum of a vending machine that fills the silence.
Just like a vending machine is filled with an assortment of snacks, waiting rooms are filled with an assortment of emotions. Fear, worry, anxiety, sadness, uncertainty, shock, numbness, confusion. And just like the hum of a vending machine, waiting rooms hum with the weight of emotions. And so we wait, while listening to the hum. |
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