In a reflective mood with the New Year coming to a close, I realize I’ve become more nostalgic, recalling the past and enjoying the memories as I age. I like to stay home more and find deep contentment in that.
My family and extended family are close to my heart and treasured. I love them with a fierceness that cannot be put into words. I understand that life and good health are gifts to be cherished and held dear, and as a result, I’m taking better care of myself and encouraging my family to do the same. Physical activity is balm for my soul and a deep, sound, refreshing sleep, a blessing.
I am grateful for the ability to remember that God, in His great wisdom, has designed His beloveds in such a way as to give us the gift of memory. I’m so thankful He has denied us the ability to foresee the future. If we would know what is to come to pass in the New Year, we may live in dread. We are commissioned to trust Him. He alone knows. And that’s fine by me.
As I age, I have become more and more grateful for the way I was raised. My childhood years were happy ones, filled with home-cooked meals, good hard work, fair discipline, much love, give and take, sharing. Mom and Dad were not perfect. There were times when life seemed harsh and unreasonable, the workload never-ending in my small mind. However, there was the underlying knowledge that our parents deeply loved us, with an unconditional love and total acceptance.
Sitting on top of my computer desk, I have a picture of Mom at my husband’s and my 25th wedding anniversary party, 10 years ago this coming October. Mom and Dad still lived at home but were getting more and more dependent on us kids for their daily care by that time. Shortly after, we made the heart-wrenching decision to place Mom in a nursing home, her wish after a particularly difficult period.
That time for Dad without Mom right there was very trying, on him as well as on us kids. We would visit Mom and then go back to make sure Dad was OK, splitting our time between our beloved parents. A few agonizing weeks later, Dad was reunited with his bride, same place, same room.
For more than 60 years, they had seldom been apart, living and working together, raising their family on the farm that had been in my dad’s family for generations. For some reason, the staff at the first nursing home we chose would not allow their beds to be close together. As a family we decided to move them into a nursing home that would be more conducive to Mom and Dad’s particular needs and wants.
Their one heart’s desire was to have their beds touching so they could hold hands as they drifted off to sleep. The second nursing home’s response to our request touched our hearts deeply: “But of course!” That’s all we needed to hear and knew that this final earthly dwelling-place would bring them dignity and comfort.
Now almost five years since they’ve gone “home,” occasionally as I pass that particular nursing home, gratitude fills my heart. On one hand, I am appreciative of the tender care they had received while there, and on the other, I’m so glad they’ve been set free from their ailing physical bodies, receiving instead the glorified bodies Jesus died to give them.
The other day as I fed my outside heifers in the skidsteer I was again tucked in my Prayer Chair. Hot tears slipped down my cold cheeks, soaking into my wrap-around scarf as I recalled my dear parents and how much I missed and loved them, thanking God for the gift of memories held dear and for keeping them in His tender care while waiting for the rest of us to join them.
Reflecting back on the year as it closes down, I am grateful. It’s been a year of challenges to be sure, but first and foremost I remember the blessings as I trust the One Who holds the future and believe in the good plans He has for His beloved children.
Happy New Year, everyone!
(“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord. “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”Jeremiah 29:11)
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