Certain years hold life’s memories and experiences that find a place deep in our souls. Recollections may be warm and sweet. Others could be heart-wrenching.
After seven years of infertility, we were blessed with the adoption of our first son — just 12 days old — in November 1988. Two years later, at three weeks old, our second adopted son was placed in our arms in March 1991. We’ve thanked God over and over through the years that their birth mothers chose life. In October 1995, I miraculously gave birth to our only biological child; a daughter.
Recalling each one of those events bring back a rush of emotion — Tender, scared, grateful, anxious, thankful, overwhelmed, sleep-deprived — all full of joy and motion. Blanketed by love.
I remember crying at one point because I couldn’t get one of them to nap. It brought me up short as I had cried wanting to be a mama, and here I am a crying mama. It all came with the territory. I learned, grew and came to cut myself some slack.
The years flew by when our kids were small. We were parenting three precious little souls and tending a farm. Both, at times, were blurry.
Fast-forward to 2009. It remains in my heart as a year of ecstatic hilltops and heart-crushing valleys.
My mom passed Jan. 24 of that year. By then, both of my parents had been in the nursing home system for two years. Their minds were sharp, but their physical bodies were wearing out.
I was on my way that morning and had planned on stopping for a coffee-to-go when I received a phone call from a good friend that happened to be a nurse on staff.
She simply said without explanation: “Kay, come as soon as you can.”
I’ll be forever grateful to her.
The coffee forgotten, I sped to the nursing home in time to sit between my parent’s beds, holding my dad’s hand in one and my mom’s in the other. I could tell that she was close to going home.
After praying aloud, I bent down to her ear and softly whispered, “Go ahead, Mom. Jesus is waiting.”
In a tranquil peace, she quietly slipped away. I profoundly sensed the presence of heaven’s angels.
Just four months later, I was again privileged to be with Dad when he drifted away from his physical bond to join Mom. Within months, my siblings and I were orphaned. We all acknowledged, because they knew Jesus as their Lord and Savior, they were more alive than we were, skipping together on streets of gold. What comfort that brings.
Later, in spring of that year our middle son won a state baseball championship. The emotional rollercoaster of moving up and winning the games one by one to make it to state was hair-raising. Working the cows around the games, we attended every single one, as was our custom.
Later that year, that same one left for college. It created a hole in our home. He was (is) a strong personality. I came home crying and bereft. While I was proud of him, I missed his presence in our home, his shoes at the door, his voice in our airspace.
Crying again in 2014, our youngest left the nest to attend college and after graduating, went on to serve the Lord in missionary work, literally traveling around the globe for six years. Many times during those years I felt God ask me, “Do you trust Me?” Yes, Lord.
We gave wings to our chicks and darned if they all three just didn’t fly away.
June 10, 2023, was the day my older sister left me. She went, cradled in the arms of Jesus, joining my mom and dad. Her passing has left a hole in my heart that cannot be described. There are so many things that I want to share with her. She was the only one that was with me my entire life. Until she wasn’t.
That same year, our oldest son, who’d lived in California for 10 years, moved to Green Bay. Due to unexplained circumstances, while still staying in touch, at one point six whole years had gone by without physically hugging him. It crushed me.
He’d moved after my sister had passed so she didn’t know (or does she? It’s a mystery). She would have cried with sweet gratitude that he’d be living closer.
All of these moments in our lives have moved us to tears of grief or tears of joy — many times within months of each other. All make up the fabric of our short flesh life on this good earth.
Because we believe and accept that our savior Christ Jesus shed His blood on the cross in our place, our debt of sin is paid. Therefore, our future in heaven is secure. We have eternity to catch up with our loved ones waiting there.
(“But as it is written: ‘Eye has not seen, nor ear heard nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him.’” 1 Corinthians 2:9, New King James Version)
Kay Reminger was born and raised on a dairy farm, and she married her high school sweetheart, who happened to farm for a living in Leopolis. Writing for quite a few years, she remains focused on the blessings of living the ups and downs of rural life from a farm wife’s perspective.
