I’d rather go to a saint’s funeral than a sinner’s party. Marking a life well lived calls me higher. Reminds me to live in such a way that my grandchildren will remember my love and follow my faith. Such was my mother Agnes’s farewell. Mom was the sweet and sticky stuff …
Three-year-old Ezra calls me from his face-up position on the living room floor. A bulky mass of grey and black wool obliterates his torso. Both boy and dog are grinning. “Nana! Cash is lyin’ on me ‘gain. Could you git him off, please?” “Come, Cash,” I call. The dog looks …
Like the sweeping arc of a lighthouse beam, illuminating, for one glorious moment, some unutterably lovely scene, a beautiful season of life will soon end for our family. Our six grandbeans can no more race the three hundred steps between their parsonage and our home, the shortest legs pumping …
Tabatha. Butterfly Bean. Water baby. Newly baptized Christian. As a grandmother with a passion to see her grandchildren following Jesus, that last one thrills me. Nearby water has a magnetic attraction for our grandbeans, especially during the dog days of summer. Our warm weather visits to nearby Good Spirit Lake, …
“I’m not having a heart attack,” I said. But no one listened. Things move fast when you show up at emergency complaining of chest pain and trouble breathing. So many people checked me out, poking and slapping wires and sticky pads all over the place, that I felt like a …
In 1754, English author Horace Walpole coined one of the most delightful words in the English language. He formed it after reading a Persian fairy tale titled, The Three Princes of Serendip. Throughout the story the princes kept discovering, “by accidents and sagacity…things which they were not in quest of…” …
The mother of a toddler told me that her son had started calling her God. “I didn’t get it,” she laughed, “but we finally figured it out.” Every mealtime, the family grace included, “Thank you God, for this food.” Since she had prepared and served the meal, the child came to …
I won’t lay a wreath at our local cenotaph this November 11th – not because I wouldn’t like to. I’ll be a thousand miles away, caring for my smallest grandbean, now two, while his parents take in a conference. Ezra stands at our fridge rearranging the vintage Dick and Jane …
Judy, my friend and colleague – and a highly involved grandmother – returned late one evening from a weekend away, weary to the bone of chasing grandchildren and battling wind at outdoor sports. At home, wanting nothing more than bed, she found the cupboard bare of bread and bottled water. …
By almost three, her siblings had vocabularies like small dictionaries. But our fifth grandbean Lois spoke only a few words. Mama. Nana. Up. Buh buh, (Bye, bye). And “SHUSH!” She used that one often, especially on loudmouthed Ernie, our parrot. One evening, when crying uncontrollably, she even used it …
