I heard it from my grandmother—the question of her day:
originally written for my “Family Time” Column in Fountain of Life Magazine, Jan/Feb 2016
It seems we are a people who love new beginnings.
Turning over a new leaf. Wiping the slate clean. Starting over. Waking up to the dawn of a new day. Continue reading
It was a moment to cherish.
There I sat in her living room watching this precious woman, my grandmother-in-law, play her special version of patty-cake with my fifteen-month-old daughter. I couldn’t understand the words (they were in another language), but the affection was clear.
And I knew I was blessed to be there. Continue reading
They looked at me like I’d killed their grandma. Or at least stolen their candy.
In truth, I’d tried to save them from the machine that ate it.
I was on an overnight field trip with several hundred middle schoolers.
And where there are middle schoolers, Continue reading
For my kids, Easter baskets always came a week early.
On Palm Sunday.
My mother-in-law sewed adorable outfits, matched them with sweet fancy hats, and brought baskets full of goodies. A Palm Sunday tradition I believe started by my husband’s grandma.
Because Continue reading
I met him once. Rev. Billy Graham.
It was a Monday night. A friend and I were on our way to Art Survey 101, and we had just reached the third floor. He rounded the corner from the hall, courteously dipped his head, and asked, “Would you know where the so-and-so office is?”
Okay, you know he didn’t really say, so-and-so. It’s been 25 years, and the tiny details are long gone. Suffice it to say, it was an ordinary question. And we gave an ordinary answer. “On the 2nd floor, just to your right.”
He thanked us kindly, and down he went.
But my friend and I? We were left staring.
“Was that who I think it was?” Continue reading
He gave a speech.
He thanked his teachers. He thanked his dad and me. He thanked the people giving him the award.
And then he thanked his twin sister. For their almost eighteen years together.
He paused, looked down, then said to her, “It’s hard to think of our possibly being separated next year for college.”
There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Continue reading
She wrapped her presents with her eyes closed.
Why we didn’t wait until Dad got home to do it, I couldn’t tell you. It meant no disrespect for him; he’d obviously helped us buy them. But each birthday and Mother’s Day, we stood on a stool by the washing machine and made Mom close her eyes as she helped us put her gift in a box, cut the paper, fold perfect crisp corners, and put just the right amount of tape on all the seams. As far as I know, she kept her promise and never looked. She always acted surprised when she reopened them…
We tried to get her to close her eyes while we mixed her cake, but I imagine she peeked a little there. Continue reading
I could write a post, but, today, I think this picture suffices:
15 years later, how you would caption the photo?
My daughter asked it. “Mom, why is there a cloth sign tied around our tree?”
Because I am now officially a tree hugger.
See, we got a notice in the mail. From the City Forester.