Nancy

Christmas Snow

December 22, 2015 by Nancy 8 Comments

The prognosticators say it may happen. We may see a fresh blanket of snow in our town on Christmas Day. Some say Christmas snow is magical…and perhaps it is. Was it really the top hat that brought Frosty the Snowman to life, or the snow itself?

But Christmas snow is more than magical to me. There’s a spiritual quality about it. Softly and silently it covers the last of the rusty old leaves in the gutters and curbs, the stained driveways and the potholed roads. Similarly, it seems to cover all the pain and disappointment of the past year, sending the heavenly message, “See, I am doing a new thing!” (Isaiah 43:19)

The year my husband and I lost both our moms we had great hopes for Christmas snow. Could it obscure those lingering, haunting memories of their last days on earth and leave only the good ones? Could it bring back my little-girl memories of making snow ice cream with my mom in our kitchen in Tennessee? Could it remind my husband of coming into his Colorado home, his mittens frozen from building snowmen, to his mom’s steaming hot cocoa with marshmallows?

Could it even bring us memories of my mom arriving at our frosty airport in her smart tweed suit, or of his mom coming up the snowy walk for Christmas dinner in her red coat, a bowl of homemade cranberry sauce in hand? We don’t question their joyful existence now near the heavenly “storehouses of the snow” (Job 38:22), but this time of year we sure miss our moms.

On Christmas morning we will celebrate the fact that God, in His great love for the people He created, sent His only Son to live among us, breathe our air, and close the gap sin created between us and God for eternity. If the fresh, white snow arrives, it will remind me that someday, only because of the grace and mercy God bestows on me, I will stand before Him in a spotless robe as white as snow. (Rev. 7:9-14)

The Christmas snow may come this year. If so, will you let it speak to you? Have a blessed and merry Christmas.

Holiday Transitions

November 24, 2015 by Nancy 15 Comments

As the leftover items from our yard sale were loaded into a big truck to be donated to a worthwhile charity this past summer, it wasn’t seeing doll furniture or well-loved dishes disappearing through the big open doors on the side of the truck that made me cry. It was the big straw turkey that had been a part of our Thanksgiving decorations for many years. He seemed to be looking at me saying, “What did I do? Didn’t I faithfully sit on your front porch through all kinds of weather? And I have to tell you, that pumpkin rotting next to me didn’t smell so good either!”

But he had to go because we were “downsizing.” Not only did I think there wouldn’t be a spot for him on our new front porch, I didn’t think we would want to store him the other 11 months of the year. Bye-bye turkey.

That’s just one of the holiday tradition transitions that we’ll be experiencing this year. With every move the question is always asked: Where will we put the Christmas tree in this new house? After a move like ours, the question will more likely be: Do we still have a tree? If so, where is it? And did we keep those dangling icicle lights or did we toss them?

Changes in holiday traditions can be unsettling. There’s comfort in knowing the fall leaves, pumpkins and gourds always go on the mantel at Thanksgiving, and the nativity set is always set up on the buffet in the dining room for Christmas. But what if you move to a home without a mantel? What if you sold the buffet at auction and got a pitiful amount for it? (Sorry, touchy subject there.)

I know I’ll enjoy decorating our new, smaller home for the holidays this year, and I will appreciate our decorations even more because they survived the move. Due to sentimental attachment or simple oversight, whatever we have now wasn’t culled, so decorating will be like introducing old friends to our new home. I’ll try to focus not on what has changed, but on what will never change.

Gone is the big oak dining table with three leaves that expanded to ten feet long. Yet no matter who sits around our smaller Thanksgiving table this year, we’ll still have warm memories of all the faces who’ve been around our table in years past. We’ll still get a lump in our throats when each person shares what he or she is most grateful for this year, and we’ll still praise God and thank Him for all the blessings He bestows on us day after day—including the opportunity to downsize.

When Christmas rolls around our cat, Molly, will still take up residence under the tree. We’ll still have the crèches and tree ornaments that remind us of the reason for the season: For to us a child is born, to us a son is given…And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6). My husband will still say that “Mary, Did You Know?” is his favorite Christmas song, and singing “Silent Night” by candlelight on Christmas Eve will still bring tears to my eyes. Yes, there will be changes and transitions this holiday season, but the people we love will seem even dearer, and the God we serve will still be sovereign over all. The best things in life transition well.

Valuable Resources on Aging

November 17, 2015 by Nancy 3 Comments

Enhancing the lives of older adults and those who care for them.

Dear friends, I honestly don’t expect to become rich and famous from these two books, but I know from feedback I’ve gotten from those who have used them that they meet definite needs. Therefore I’m trying to do everything I can to get the word out about their availability. If you know anyone caring for an older adult, or working in eldercare or care giving, please share this blog post with them. Thanks so very much.

THE HOPE OF GLORY is a devotional guide for older adults that brings a message of eternal hope as it reminds seniors who they are in God’s eyes: not old and useless, but men and women created in His image who still have a life to live and a story to tell. The 57 time-tested, interactive devotions (5 are for special holidays) are designed for:
» Seniors 65 and over.
» Group classes in Assisted Living or Skilled Nursing Communities, Senior Centers, and Church Sunday Schools.
» Meaningful one-to-one visits with older adults.

Published by Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas, 2014. 294 pages. Winner of an Illumination Book Award for Excellence in Christian Publishing. Available in print or electronic form from Amazon.com, Barnesandnoble.com.

TAKE MY HAND AGAIN is a faith-based guide for helping aging parents. The change in roles when adult children must begin caring for their aging parents is confusing and daunting. Those who wish they had a good friend or neighbor who traveled this path before them will find this companion guide especially helpful. Take My Hand Again includes an overview of common care options and questions to ask—of professionals, of prospective care facilities, and of the aging adults themselves. Readers will find much-needed hope and encouragement from real-life stories sprinkled with humor and relevant Scripture that give valuable insight into the challenges of the aging process. This book provides practical help for every step of the caregiving journey. Assisted living facilities find it helpful to give a copy to each family that comes to them for help.

Published by Kregel Publications, 2015. 224 pages. Available in bookstores or online at Amazon.com or Barnesandnoble.com.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Nancy Parker Brummett is the author of six books. Her writing and speaking ministries now focus on older adults and those who care for them. Nancy journeyed with her mother and mother-in-law through their adventures in aging and holds a professional certificate in gerontology. The Hope of Glory is a collection of lessons she wrote while volunteering to lead a devotional hour in assisted living. Take My Hand Again is based on her personal experiences, interviews with others in caregiving roles, and relevant research. For more information on Nancy’s life and work, or to schedule her to speak, visit her website at www.nancyparkerbrummett.com or find her on Facebook, Twitter, or LinkedIn.

Family Markers

November 11, 2015 by Nancy 24 Comments

My sisters and I had a unique and humbling experience recently. We were asked by citizens of a neighborhood in Knoxville, TN, where I grew up, to attend the dedication of a historical marker erected in honor of some of our French-Swiss ancestors who settled in East Tennessee in the mid-1800s. Alongside the marker was an old mill grindstone, donated by our family.

My great-grandparents, Alfred and Elisa Buffat, founded the Buffat Mill which became the largest grist mill south of the Ohio River. Like other families of French-Swiss immigrants, they settled in the valleys of East Tennessee, close to the Appalachian Mountains, because the region reminded them of their home in Switzerland. The site for the grist mill was by a creek that still runs through the property today.

In 1976 my father donated some of the land he had inherited to the county for the establishment of a neighborhood park. It was in this park, by the creek, that the ceremony dedicating the marker was held on a drizzly day the end of October.

My sister Mary, Knox County Mayor Tim Birchett, and me. — My sister Mary, Knox County Mayor Tim Burchett, and me.

As I sat there with my sisters, listening to the mayor speak about the importance of community and legacy, I was fighting back tears. I knew how very proud my dad would be that his grandparents were being honored in this way. And I was proud of him for all he did to preserve their legacy. “You won’t know where you are going if you don’t know where you’ve been,” he would tell my sisters and me as he launched into another history lesson about our family. We would roll our eyes, impatient to go outside and play.

At some point the stone was moved to the front yard of our family home where it sat for decades surrounded by flowers and shrubbery until my sister Mary arranged for it to be donated this year. “I remember sitting on the stone eating my peanut butter and jelly sandwich on days Mom would pack my lunch and send me on an adventure,” my sister Patty said. Now we sat looking at the stone in its place of honor.

Although I wrote a book about my great-grandmother Elisa in 2000, The Journey of Elisa, I don’t feel I’ve done enough to pass family history down to my own kids and grandkids, and I vow to look for more opportunities to do so. After all, don’t they deserve a chance to roll their eyes at me?

My friend Jan Keller, publisher of The Country Register, came up with a creative way to share family history. She and her husband visited the homestead of her pioneering ancestors in Eastern Colorado. The homestead once included an old rock well house and a windmill. Collecting a few of the rocks now scattered on the ground, she gave one to each grandchild for Christmas along with a little book telling them about their great-great-great grandparents! Jan said, “I told them their Grandpa Joe touched those rocks many times as he built the homestead, and now they have one they can touch.”

If Jan and I have such “family markers” in our families, surely you do also. If necessary do some research and learn stories about ancestors that you can share with those who follow you. There could be a grindstone or an old rock well house in your family’s history, too. Or perhaps your family markers include a productive farm or a grocery store that sustained a community for generations. Regardless, we all have family markers, and they are all worth remembering.

View a YouTube video of Nancy talking about The Journey of Elisa in 2011 here:

Feeling Invisible

October 13, 2015 by Nancy 20 Comments

A common comment coming from the lips of aging adults with enough boldness to speak the truth is, “I feel invisible.” In her book Voices of Aging, author Missy Buchanan presents perspectives on several key topics from the point of view of the adult child and the aging parent. One elder said, “Sometimes I feel obsolete. Unnecessary. Irrelevant. Like a carton of milk whose expiration date is long past.” Another aging parent said, “I remember sitting in my room while my children talked about me as if I weren’t even there.”

No one should feel so invisible. If we take the time to look into the eyes of older people, and truly listen to what they say, it’s possible to see both who they were, and who they still are.

“Don’t judge my story by the chapter you walked in on,” reads a poignant anonymous quote. But isn’t that what we do? If we meet someone for the first time at the end of their lives, don’t we too often forget that this is simply one chapter? Would we want those who meet us later in life to make that same error in judgment?

This week I will add another assisted living Bible study class to my schedule. I sought a location close to our new home so it will be easy for me to visit there during inclement weather. I felt the Lord leading me to the place I selected, but when I met with the activities director there I learned that 90% of the residents have dementia. Will they still have moments of clarity when they can hear the truth of the gospel presented in the lessons in The Hope of Glory? Will the old hymns stimulate their long-term memories and put a smile on their faces? I pray so. But if not, the homemade cookies and hugs I offer will have to be enough of a reason to show up.

Most important, as I look forward to meeting these dear old souls, I pray I’ll be able to see who they were at a younger age, and who they authentically are today. I want to know about the earlier chapters of their no doubt fascinating lives, and appreciate the totality of the lives they have lived. I don’t want them to say, like another older person in Buchanan’s book, “My life is a library filled with books that no one reads anymore—books of adventure and romance, advice and how-tos.” As I get to know them, I hope to explore all the volumes of their lives.

Even people in their sixties, those categorized as “young seniors” but on the far side of “prime,” can feel invisible at times. Meeting the residents in the patio home community to which we moved this past summer, I sometimes think quietly to myself, “I sure wish I’d known you sooner.” And I wouldn’t be surprised if those who met me for the first time thought the same thing.

Recently we had a social gathering in our community and as I met each 60-plus person I couldn’t help but surmise: He must have been an effective CEO before he retired. She was obviously a beauty queen or a cheerleader. He was probably an excellent athlete earlier. She has no doubt been a patron of the arts her whole life. That couple must have always been partiers! Seeing them as they are now provided me with plenty of clues to the earlier chapters in their lives, and I’m looking forward to getting to know more about each person here. None will be invisible to me.

From the youngest to the oldest, we can all feel invisible at times. Yet we are never invisible in God’s eyes. He always sees us as we are and wherever we are, and only He sees who we ultimately will be when all the trappings of this earth fall away. Invisible? Not on His watch.

A Door With a Story

September 19, 2015 by Nancy 14 Comments

We just moved to a new house and I was so happy that we inherited a refrigerator with a magnet-friendly door from the past owners. No sterile, stainless steel, magnet-resistant fridge door for me. No sir! Centuries from now when archeologists dig around to learn more about our culture, I’m convinced it won’t be the computers at Norad nor the Space Center in Houston that will attract most of their attention. No, rather they’ll all gather around tables examining decayed construction paper or bits of ceramic magnets as they attempt to understand the hub of communication in our society—the refrigerator door.

Whenever I’m a guest in someone’s home I love gazing at their refrigerator door because that spot, more than any other, tells the story of their family. Families with young children have the most colorful and crowded refrigerator doors, with construction paper art, magnetic alphabet letters, and reminders about school activities, dental appointments, or soccer games. (Thanks to daughter-in-law Abigail McConnell for sending the photo of their family refrigerator above!)

For years I didn’t have any watercolor ponies or construction paper ladybugs on my refrigerator, and I really missed them. Finally, the grandkids were old enough to create refrigerator art for us. Then fairy princesses with ruffly dresses and long eyelashes and stick people families were held in place on our refrigerator by magnets reading, “My Grandchild Did This.” Heaven forbid a grandchild who visited us then didn’t see one of his or her creations hung in the refriga-gallery.

Given the use of refrigerators as art galleries and message centers, it’s no wonder refrigerator magnets are such hot-selling items in gift shops across the country. I gave up long ago trying to have any sort of design theme with mine, although I understand collectors of certain types of magnets are very serious about their choices. Magnet-backed photo holders are often my choice. We have one whole side of our refrigerator dedicated to family photos in magnet-backed acrylic frames, and our adult children still check to make sure they are well represented when they visit. It’s almost as if they believe if they aren’t on the refrigerator, they might not still exist. Otherwise our magnet assortment includes a few hummingbirds with broken beaks, a ceramic taco, message magnets reading, “Some Bunny Loves You” and “Slow me down, Lord,” and lots of advertisements for everything from pizza to dry cleaning. The archeologists will be hard put to understand what mattered most to us when they dig all this up!

On our old fridge, magnets that weren’t used for artwork held up invitations to special events, cartoons we particularly liked, or newspaper clippings. (I knew I was a real newspaper columnist when someone told me she had clipped one of my columns and put it on her refrigerator. Wow! Whatever else I write, I’ve already earned my spot in the annals of our civilization.)

All our magnets went into a plastic sandwich bag when we moved, so our recently acquired fridge is a “blank page” at this point. But this fall I’m sure I’ll post schedules of our favorite football teams and grandkids’ sporting events. From there the story will continue. What about you? What story does your refrigerator door tell about your life and your family? Make it a good one.

This blog post also appeared in an issue of The Country Register in the US and Canada. Pick up a copy at your local antique or crafts store!