Memories

A Christmas Homecoming

December 17, 2019 by Nancy 5 Comments

A common refrain from those living in care facilities is, “I just want to go home.” This sentiment is most often expressed by those in memory care who may not be able to remember why it was that they needed a safe, different environment in which to live. One facility I visited installed a bus stop in the hallway. Just sitting on the bench waiting for the bus seemed to calm the residents wanting to go home until the desire to do so passed them by.

This makes us sad, but we can understand that all hearts yearn to go home—especially at Christmas time. If we can’t take our seniors home for Christmas in the real sense, what can we do to bring home to them?

A good place to start is with the story of the first Christmas recorded in Luke, Chapter 2. Although our elders may have heard this passage of Scripture read in church services every Christmas of their lives, they may not have thought about the fact that none of the main characters in the story were home on the first Christmas.
Joseph had once lived in that region which is why he was required to transport his pregnant wife on a donkey, taking her with him to register for the census in Bethlehem. But it wasn’t home to him. Mary likely had never been there before. She was young, about to give birth, and far away from her family and familiar surroundings. Surely she yearned to go home.

And then there’s the Baby Jesus himself. The star of the story. He certainly wasn’t home. He left the glories of heaven, where He reigned next to Almighty God, and humbled himself to come to earth as a tiny baby born in a stable surrounded by animals. Jesus later said, “For I have come down from heaven not to do my will but to do the will of him who sent me…For my Father’s will is that everyone who looks to the Son and believes in him shall have eternal life…” (John 6:38, 40). He left His celestial home for a significant purpose.

Sharing this perspective on the Christmas story may lead to some heartfelt discussions about home. It’s common for elders to let messages of discouragement bring them down, especially over the holidays. They may remember all the years they decorated their homes, baked for days, wrapped presents, set beautiful tables, served scrumptious meals, and then they wonder, “Did any of it matter? Does anyone even remember those Christmases?”

The best gift you can give an elder parent is to tell them, “I remember.” If possible, go through old photos and create a small album of photos from Christmases past. Include recipe cards for favorite annual treats or other mementos of your family Christmases.

As you look at the album with your loved one tell her, “I’ve tried to make your crescent cookies but they never turn out as good as yours.” Or tell him, “I really believed those footprints you made in the snow were from Santa!” It doesn’t matter what you share, just that you say, “I remember.” With or without an album of photos, sharing fond Christmas memories with the elders you love may be the best gift you can give them. Merry Christmas to all!

First published in Pikes Peak Senior News, Winter 2019-2020.

A Harvest of Memories

September 13, 2018 by Nancy 16 Comments

What is it about the first crisp morning of fall that brings a rush of nostalgia—especially to those of us with more than a few decades behind us?
Of course so many of our memories are back-to-school ones. Even before the temperature begins to change, several of the stores I frequent set out their offerings of school supplies. I blame back-to-school memories for the fact that I’m a glutton for the smell of new pencils and colored markers, the feel of fresh notebook paper, and the aisles of all things “back-to-schoolish.” I have to stay away from such displays because one year I bought a purple binder I didn’t need, well—just because it was purple!

Yes, the memories in the back-to-school category are plentiful indeed. I remember wearing a new plaid dress to the first day of school each year—the only new outfit I would have until Easter. I wore my hair in a ponytail throughout elementary school, but my mom would always take me to get my bangs permed before school started. I would show up looking like I had a Brillo® pad glued to my forehead! My school photos prove it.

But fall nostalgia doesn’t stop there. At any age autumn makes us think of cozy sweaters, warm socks, hot chocolate in front of a fire, and front porches decorated with an array of brightly colored pumpkins and other gourds, corn, and mums. It’s the time of year when we may go for a walk in an old jacket just for the joy of hearing the leaves crunch under our feet. Having an old dog as a companion completes the experience.

I grew up in Tennessee, so my memories of fall drives through Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg to the Great Smoky Mountains through the years are replete with recollections of the fall displays on every corner. No cornstalk or scarecrow goes unappreciated in that part of the country in the fall!

And of course fall means the return of football, as my husband is so quick to point out. For him, the nostalgia centers around two-a-day practices and the year he was a high school running back playing for the state championship! Ah, the glory days. When he sees the football team practicing early in the morning on the dew-covered field at the high school near our house, it all comes back to him.

My teenage football memories center around cheering at high school games, but that little girl with the curly bangs remembers watching her parents go off to University of Tennessee football games on September Saturdays. My mom always wore a wool suit (no matter how warm the temperature on game day), heels, and a bright orange mum corsage. I was sure she’d be the prettiest fan there!

For many farm families, fall brings more than a harvest of memories. It brings the actual harvest of the last of the crops and the joy of sharing the bounty with friends and family—or getting it to market. It’s also a time to cut and bale the hay, storing it in the barn for winter. As a girl, I loved throwing my school books down as soon as I got home on warm fall days, running to the barn to jump on my horse, Dolly, and riding through the freshly mown fields near our house. The smell of hay still transports me there in an instant.

What about you? What memories of fall do you treasure? Savor the nostalgia this year. Let it seep into your soul like a bowl of steamy oatmeal on a frosty morning.

Welcome, fall! We’ve missed you.

Family Ties

July 30, 2017 by Nancy 24 Comments

Mid-summer brings farmers’ markets, and I can’t visit one without looking for the freshest green beans I can find. Not just because I love fresh green beans, but because of the memory of close family ties they always invoke.

A memory I have of my grandmother feels as if it happened only yesterday. She is sitting on our screened-in back porch with a big silver bowl in her lap and a big brown bag of what we call “string beans” in Tennessee on the table beside her. I am 12, and as I watch her snap, snap, snap I’m lulled by the rhythm of her pace and mesmerized by the sight of her gnarled 90-year-old fingers as she works. The method she used until it was second nature, and which is now second nature to me, involves snapping off each end, peeling down the string, flipping the bean around and giving two quick snaps between your thumb and forefinger. Snap…snap…zip, snap, snap. That’s the string bean symphony.

I remember wondering if the bowl fit perfectly in her lap because it was made to do so, or if her lap had just molded to the shape of the bowl over the years.

On those hot summer afternoons I had my best talks with Granny as I watched her snap. I would occasionally ask a question, knowing it could be quite a few more snaps before I got an answer. My questions were both trivial and monumental, but her answers always seemed profound and comforting.

My grandmother died two days after suffering a stroke on her 90th birthday. Through the years, each time I sit down with a bag of beans to snap I feel tremendously comforted and reassured that everything will be okay. It gives me a feeling of connection that transcends time and location. When my first granddaughter was two and visiting with us, I encouraged her to snap string beans with me. After snapping off each end, I handed the bean to her and told her to break it into little pieces, never dreaming she’d be able to do so without help. Her chubby little hands tightened down on the bean and she twisted it until it snapped. “Ouch!” she said, as if the snapping noise indicated the bean had been hurt. I handed her another bean. “Ouch…ouch,” she exclaimed as she gave it two perfect snaps.

The tears in my eyes as I watched her caught me by surprise. Now a new generation was snapping beans. Ninety-year-old, gnarled fingers…two-year-old, pink, chubby ones…we were all connected. The strings that hold us together can be as simple, and strong, and purposeful as those on the beans. With a lot of “ouch” when they break.

In his book Growing Wise in Family Life, Chuck Swindoll writes, “I know of no realm of life that can provide more companionship in a lonely world or greater feelings of security and purpose in chaotic times than the close ties of a family.” In Psalm 68:6 (NIV) we read, “God sets the lonely in families.” In the day in which we live families are greater gifts than ever. Encourage those you love to remember their family ties and draw strength from them.

If this sounds familiar that’s because it is excerpted in part from my first Back Porch Break newspaper column in 1995! Hope it still brings a smile or a tear–the good kind!

A Moving Experience: Part Two

July 29, 2015 by Nancy 18 Comments

In every move there is the physical side and the emotional side. Physically you are dealing with the logistics of the packers, the movers, the storage locker, what can’t be packed, where to put houseplants, pet relocation, etc. Even in a local move, the “to do” lists can be extensive.

Then there is all the emotional baggage. We prepared for the move we made in June out of a house we’d been in for 26 years for the better part of two years. All the fixing up and spiffing up that precedes a move had taken a toll on our personal time and our checkbook. We were ready.

Still, I expected the departure to be wrenching. Every place I looked in that house another memory would wash over me. (Imagine my consolation in knowing that those memories are still with me now although the house is not.)

I’ll never forget seeing our oldest granddaughter Francesca climbing up the steps from downstairs by herself for the first time. Her dark hair was in two ponytails that stuck out on either side of her head. She wore a red sweater with a black Scotty dog on it. As she climbed each step she was saying, “Juice! O’s!” letting me know it was time for breakfast.

Similar memories of visits from all 12 of our grandkids are permanently with us wherever we go. We shipped the stones with their handprints to their parents before the move, but we’ll never be without their impressions on our hearts. And in their hearts, they have so many memories of “Papa and Grancy’s house.” A collection of finds from the family room provided a history of those visits. Behind the bookcase that was too heavy to move for cleaning was one blue Barbie shoe, a marble, an orange plastic Easter egg, some cat toys, a green Hot Wheels car, a wooden block, and one red checker. Oh the fun we had!

And then there were all the gatherings that occurred under that roof! Graduation parties, engagement parties, showers, Bible studies, holiday meals with departed moms, dinner parties with friends…and on and on. God blessed us richly when He provided that home to us and our blended family.

How, I wondered, would I be able to say good-bye not only to the memories, but to the everyday joys I experienced there, especially in the last 20 years when I’ve been working from home and such a part of daily life in that house? I was saying goodbye to the deer who greeted me most every morning, the hummingbirds, the rainbows from the deck, the gardens I nurtured and cared for year after year. I was saying good-bye to the pink sunrise reflections on Cheyenne Mountain, and to neighbors we’d known for so long. It just seemed like too much good-bye. More than I could face.

But the Lord knew that. That’s why He showed us the new house He picked out for us just as we were ready to give up and look for an apartment to rent. We were energized by the discovery of the new house as we patched nail holes and cleaned at the old one. Amazingly, although there had been tears at unexpected times in the preceding weeks, when it was time to get into the car and drive away for the last time, I didn’t cry. Instead there was just a sense of blessing and relief flowing over my husband and me. The words from a favorite praise song came to mind and made their way to the refrigerator at the new house, where a month later even the cats feel right at home: He gives and takes away. He gives and takes away. Still my heart will choose to say, blessed be the name of the Lord.