Doing Hard Things - Aaron sharing from his heart

My feet and those of my boy - both of us getting 
ready for the service. I love how our feet 
are touching, I didn't realize it until now 
when I posted the pic. 

My middle OS Aaron entered the world with great gusto on August 30,1996. Almost exactly 17 years later, on a beautiful summer’s day in the Chicagoland area, that same precious child approached a microphone and through words, gave a final gift to the grandma he loved dearly.

Pretty sure I used that entire box of Kleenex!

My grandma’s memorial service brought forth countless blessings. On every level, from the music selected, the pictures featured, the location of the service to the tender common spirit filling the morning, it was obvious that the Lord had given us a day to reflect and celebrate a remarkable person. 

Aaron was the first family member to speak.This wasn’t his choice and he fretted about the pressure and enormity of the task. Not a lot of teenage guys would relish his position. From the perspective of a great-grandchild, my OS desired to recognize and share a central message about someone we all adored. Prone to migraines, we had been praying against him having one during the service and praise the Lord, he was fine. But think of how many adults cower in front of a microphone, let alone how many grown ups willingly speak at a memorial service about someone they love... Ok, now you have a slight understanding of the pride I had in my OS. 

Aaron spoke from this podium (so did everyone else).
You can see a funny picture of Nathan 
and Grandma in the background. 
We always had so much fun with her.  

My boy had worked so hard on his message. He sought counsel from teachers, asked for prayers, listened to our advice, changed a few words and added others. He considered his outfit, his hair (it really is that important!) and his shoes. But the foremost thing Aaron desired was to fittingly articulate the impact Grandma had on his life and on the lives of all the great grandkids. 

At the beginning of his message, Aaron accidentally omitted the name of his big brother, Nathan when he was recalling all of the great-grandchildren. True to form, Aaron gracefully recovered and it gave us all a moment to chuckle when he humorously, begrudgingly inserted Nathan’s name in the list. :)

Grandma and her boys at The Sound of Music.

As a music lover, Aaron equated Grandma’s life to a soundtrack. He told of the time we took her to see The Sound of Music. Grandma seemed less interested in the actual performance but more focused on the time with us as a family. Grandma closed her eyes, still fully awake and hummed away at familiar songs. Aaron recalled how he looked over at her during the musical and observed such joy on her face. My OS said that the soundtrack of Grandma's life was one with strong notes and crescendoes, beautiful and melodious. It was a moving and fitting analogy.

He continued and the tears in Aaron’s eyes and voice mirrored everyone else’s as we wept during his message. My ever growing pile of Kleenex only increased when Aaron spoke of Jesus and His love for all of us. While we were there to mark Grandma's passing, we celebrated the depth of happiness she gave to us all. Aaron acknowledged the Source of that love, Christ our Lord. I sat there draped in the arms of my other two OS and the Hubs never more thankful for this family I’ve been given. 

I like to imagine that my grandma is in heaven and that she could see us on August 27, 2011. Since there is no sadness or pain in heaven, in my heart I envision her utterly resplendent and I wonder if tears streamed from her sweet face. Not from sadness or cancer or dementia but from joy. I picture her absolutely overwhelmed being in the presence of the Lord, worshipping Him forever and for this one shining moment, seeing her handsome teenage great grandson confidently speaking of her and standing near her portrait. Oh how that picture in my heart brings me peace. If only everyone could be loved like this on earth and then to have that love exceeded in heaven, I want to live that kind of life now and eternally.   

Thank you Aaron. Thank you Grandma. 

Thanksgiving is mixed with sorrow, tears erupt with little warning and that’s the way I process grief. I realize that it’s going to be like this for a while as I have mourned other loved ones in the past. It is possible to be simultaneously sad, proud, grateful...after all that’s just what happens when you are Aaron’s mom and Grandma’s grand-daughter. 

What kind of question was THAT?

Contemplate your road

Earlier in the week my friend Michele asked my middle OS a question. She did this in front of me and it wasn't the sort of question most well-behaved women pose...

Not only was the question unusual but so were Aaron's and my reaction. 

Ok, so this was her question -

"Aaron, did you write your obituary today?"

What would you think if your bestie asked your kid that question?

With nary a hint of awkwardness, Aaron smiled and said that yes, he had indeed written his obituary. It was almost as if she had asked my OS if he was going to play his guitar, nothing shocking entered his response.

And if it's possible to be an outside observer of yourself, I was surprised by my own reaction to that question. I didn't smack Michele upside the head nor did I burst into tears, something I can do with the greatest of ease. I just listened to their verbal exchange.

How strange it is that two of my three OS's have written their obituaries. How peculiar that I am telling you. How not surprising that I am NOW crying as I continue to type this post. 

During their junior years in high school, it has been a standard assignment at our sons' school. In British Literature class, students  pen their own obituary. Neither of my OS would have set out to do this independently but I'm glad they did. Trust me, you learn a lot about your kids with this type of homework.

So by now, you're wondering, "Well, what did they write? What did you learn?"

Nate's senior pic 2008

Nate was 85 and he died on a Thursday after saving his grandson from oncoming traffic. (Ok, I find that part funny, I mean, how old is his grandson???) "Nathan lived an exciting life that was marked by service to his country and service to the Lord." My OS achieved a measure of political stature in his lifetime and was well respected in his community. He was married and had a quiver of children.

Aaron was a nonogenerian, just three years shy of being 100. He enjoyed a long marriage and was blessed with six kids, 17 grandkids and ten great-grandkids. He had been a pastor for 41 years.

I love that face. I love that boy. 

Oh how I long for these to be their true stories. Long lives, fruitful, productive, reproductive men who loved their families and the Lord. My heart's cry is for them to breathe their last completely satisfied with what they gave to others, praising God for every page in their book of life. And while the thought of them actually having an obituary is more than this mama can handle right now, I appreciate the exercise of them consciously thinking about how they are living. 

In my next blog post, I am going to share with you my obituary. It is of a different sort and I've been waiting for the right time to put it out there. Since I strive to be honest and don't want to string it along just in the hopes of getting a few more "hits" on my blog, I do not have a terminal disease. 

Have you ever thought about your children's legacy? How do you think you would react to this assignment? I'd love to hear!

In Memory and Honor of Mr. Beall, someone I never knew

I never knew Mr. Beall but I have heard a lot about him and tonight I want to honor this teacher who taught my husband a couple of things about how a republic works and a much deeper lesson about caring.

It was 1979 and in typical teenager mode, my DH thought he was fearless and immortal. Perhaps that is why one day he was goofing off after school at Maconaquah High School in Bunker Hill, Indiana. It was before swim practice which was held about 1/2 mile away and I guess, since Mark had nothing better to do and was trying to show off, my DH had a great idea and I use that term loosely. He mused, "How about if I sit on the hood of my buddy's car and have him drive me to swim practice?"

With nary a second thought, the guy agreed and Mark jumped onto the hood of the car, grabbed tightly to back of the hood and said, "Let's go!" Weeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! According to Mark's recollection, the guy cooked along pretty fast about 40-50 mph and they quickly reached their destination. No biggie, no consequence, no nothing, Mark didn't think anything of his antics until the next day.

That's when Mark strode into Mr. Beall's Government class. Everyone sat down, got ready for class and before Mr. Beall started his normal lecture, he announced he had something to read. The stubby little teacher pulled out a newspaper article and without anyone else knowing, glanced intentionally at the cocky and really cute 17 year old swimmer aka my DH who was sitting at a desk.

Mr. Beall proceeded to read a story. He was known for having a file cabinet stuffed with newspaper articles. Long before the Internet, Mr. Beall had an arsenal of facts, stories and notifications. If there was a tidbit or a snippet, Mr. Beall must have had them neatly categorized, waiting for the perfect moment to share. And a perfect moment had arrived about 24 hours ago. 

And so he began to read. Most of the students were clueless as to why he was reading this particular story. But the cocky and really cute 17 year old swimmer aka my DH was keenly aware of what Mr. Beall was doing. The teacher shared with his students a newspaper article about a young man who took a joyride on the front of a car and fell off. He cracked his head on the pavement and died instantly. As Mr. Beall finished the story, he paused, looked at that kid and promptly told his class to open their books for the lesson.

That happened 31 years ago and although Mr. Beall has since passed away, his memory will live on. I can't tell you how many times I have heard that story. I can't tell you how many times our OS have groaned as Mark begins to repeat the "Mr. Beall" story.

But you know what? I love Mr. Beall. And you know what else? This world needs more Mr. Bealls. We have a shortage of people who care and are willing to stick their necks out and risk being mocked or hated when it comes to young people. I am now on my soapbox...

Today I had a Mr. Beall moment, I think. I dropped a friend from my facebook. He was a high school student, someone that had been in one of my classes. A very handsome young man I taught several months ago but lately his language on his facebook has become so curse-laden and offensive, I felt that I had no choice but to delete him as a friend. Before I did that, however, I wrote to him and explained why I was doing this. He in turn, promptly wrote me back and said he could care less whether I was his friend or not. 

Ouch.

I wasn't expecting him to be devastated by losing me as a friend but I have to admit, that hurt my feelings. And that's when good, ole, may he rest in peace, Mr. Beall popped into my mind. Mr. Beall risked popularity and ridicule to try to help someone. I tried to do the same. 

I wasn't trying to be this boy's mama or get in his business. I was sincerely wanting to be his friend in the truest sense of the word. Even though my oldest OS thinks I should have never written to the kid and simply let him go, I thought he deserved more. Like Mr. Beall, I wanted to give that boy something to think about.

I asked Mark, "did you ever tell him thank you?" He thought for a second and said, "I don't know. I'm not sure." I guess that's how my story will have to end also. 

We always have lessons to learn. I am a work in progress and that's an understatement but what would this world be like if someone didn't speak out? 

I'd love to hear your stories and recollections of people who made a difference in your life. Maybe it would help me feel better. I have no regrets about what I did, I just wish his reaction would have been different. Here's to you, Mr. Beall. Thanks for caring enough about that cute and cocky 17 year old kid who is now my precious husband and father to my babies. 

Blog referral

Today is the shortest blog post I have ever done. I simply want to refer you to 

thehokeypokeyplace.blogspot.com 

This week happens to mark the 22nd anniversary of my father's passing and I always approach this week with some fear and sadness. My dad didn't leave the kind of legacy a daughter needs and so when I read thehokeypokeyplace I reflect upon its entries as a wife, mom, daughter and Christian believer. Jim is one of the most honorable and courageous people I will ever meet. Ironically we have never met in person just via the Internet but we have several things in common. My husband and son also read his blog so there isn't anything inappropriate going on, just thought I'd mention that. 

Once you read this man's blog, I hope it moves your heart as much as it does mine. Let me know what you think.